#hm i should probably get more flannel

[iznaekkoya]

secrets ~ bang jeemin

1111 words, rated G

tags: friends to lovers, secret pining, happy ending

You and Jeemin, for all the many years you’ve been friends, are still allowed your personal secrets. This isn’t the movies––you don’t have to tell each other absolutely everything, and having secrets isn’t inherently harmful.

Like when you had that hipster blog in middle school where you painstakingly curated a feed of girls in cozy flannels or denim, pictures of beautifully arranged cups of coffee and tea, of tastefully blurry sunflowers with four or five different filters layered on top of each other. Jeemin could never––can never––know about it, because you’d never hear the end of it. She would probably think it’s a cute relic of the past, but then every artisanal coffee shop and infinity scarf you see will come with a pinch on the cheek and a reminder of something you’d like to stay dead and buried, thank you. Fall time would be miserable.

Or that time that you almost crashed your mom’s car trying to drive to the store in the middle of the night before you got a license. Jeemin didn’t need to know where that ice cream came from, not when she looked so excited to suddenly have a pint of cookie dough.

All of this to say, secrets are normal. Healthy, even.

That’s what you’re telling yourself, anyway, since the thought of her figuring out your massive crush on her is life-shatteringly embarrassing.

“Y/N,” She hums, holding up two different blazers in the mirror. “Which of these two would you say is more business formal?”

Heat rushes to your face. “I don’t even know what that means. How is that different from regular business wear?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you might have a clue, because I was prepared to show up to the interview in that red dress with some kind of cardigan. I mean, I’m glad I saw their message about attire being business formal before I left, but now I feel like I’m overthinking it,” she huffs, dropping down into the desk chair behind her and rolling closer to where you sit on her bed.

The red dress looks amazing on her. You’d hate for a bunch of stuffy office workers to get to see it and not fully appreciate how radiant she looks in it, how that shade of red isn’t too orange or too blue, and how it brings out the warmth in her eyes. Not that you can say any of that.

Instead, you say, “Definitely not the red. Maybe just a blazer over some kind of collared shirt, and a pencil skirt? That’s how all the girls on Suits dress.”

Jeemin giggles into her hand. “Not sure if I should be taking fashion advice from the legal malpractice show.”

“Megan Markle looks so good in it, though.”

“Yeah, but I’m not trying to appeal to any workplace romance fantasies. Just want to do my job, get paid and leave.”

Thank God, you think, stewing with jealousy over just the thought of some random coworker making moves on her. You’re no stranger to watching people flirt with and date Jeemin over the years, and it’s never gotten any easier. Not when so many of them just liked her because she’s pretty, and didn’t take the time to get to know her as a person. Jeemin is so much more than just pretty, and you’re sick of people tossing her to the side once they realize the fantasy of her wasn’t enough to keep them interested. It drives you crazy.

“Y/N?” Jeemin asks, wheeling over and poking you in the thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” You can feel your cheeks reddening. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about you having workplace romance. I don’t think you’re the type, honestly.”

“You’re right. I’ve always preferred having a preexisting bond with my partners. Plus, it would be too much, having to see my girlfriend at work and at home. We’d never get a break from each other, it’d be exhausting.”

Are you hearing that right? Since when? Jeemin went on so many blind dates, used the dating apps more than any person you know for years––she only deleted them a few months ago, and that was just because of one too many bad dates. Where is this coming from?

“I didn’t know that,” is what you choose to say, after much deliberation. “I always thought you preferred to keep them separate.”

“Nah,” she says, desk chair spun so she can rest her elbows on the foot on the bed. Her forearm knocks into your thigh. “I’m over that. It took a while, but I realized I would only consider dating someone if they were a friend first.”

You chose a little bit at that. Through what you’re hoped are well-masked coughs, you fight to keep this little nugget of conversation going, hoping to prod further.

“Did something change your mind?”

Her gaze rakes down your body, sending chills up your spine. “Someone, yeah.”

Another cough wracks through you, this one unable to be concealed. You can only hope now that your face isn’t embarrassingly red. “Oh,” you say, through coughs. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she says, using your knees as an anchor as she slides the chair to be directly in front of you, leaning forward. Being on the bed, you have a lot of height on her, but it doesn’t matter. This is Bang Jeemin, her very existence can send you into a panic under the right circumstances. “Do you want to ask me who?”

“Do I?” you manage to spit out. You don’t know what to do with your hands.

“Don’t play dumb,” she says. Now she’s getting out of the chair to loom over you, which makes you infinitely more nervous. “Ask me who.”

“Uhh…” you say, dumbstruck. “Who?”

You know the answer. It feels like some kind of fever dream, but you’re not that obtuse.

Instead of an answer, you get a kiss. You’ve spent enough nights dreaming about it to know that her mouth would feel incredibly warm on yours, but her slightly chapped lips take you at first by surprise, but becomes what pulls you in more. The reality of it: the imperfection as you two find your rhythm, mouth gently gliding together like two slightly worn but connected puzzle pieces. It’s amazing, and it’s over too soon.

“You’re terrible at keeping a secret, y/n.” She cups a hand against your warm cheek, noticeably cool. “You always get so red.”

You just laugh, and bury your face in her tank top. “Shut up,” you say, not meaning it.

She hums for a moment, pretending to consider it.

“Make me.”

[blurbsinsinning]

𝖙𝖜𝖔; 𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞

kinktober, day two - robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ (mdni!), teasing, finger fucking, top!reader

“Hey, stranger,” You greet, the bass-heavy music underscoring your flirtatious remarks, “you really should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away often.”

The girl, very clearly nervous, ignores your flirting and asks, “Wait, you’re asthmatic, since when?”

Your heart squeezes and you chuckle softly. “It’s just a pickup line.” You reassure her.

She visibly relaxes. “Oh. Sorry, I'm really nervous.” You were pretending to be strangers. At least, you were supposed to be. You’d asked Robin to do this for you, and to her credit, she was doing her best to play along. “Uh, well, maybe I’ll just have to start carrying around an inhaler.”

Neither of you can hold back your giggles at her attempt at a smooth response. 

“I’m still not asthmatic!” You say, still cackling.

“What else was I supposed to say?” She protests, laughing just as hard.

“I don’t know, stranger. Maybe just flirt back.” You playfully roll your eyes.

The ‘stranger’ collects herself and with a deadpan expression says, “Let’s have sex.”

You snort, “Wow, where’s all the foreplay, pretty girl?” She smiles at the nickname, an adorable blush on her cheeks, amplified by the party lights. 

“I can’t help myself when a gorgeous lady like you is in front of me.” She hesitantly takes a hold of your waist, which you eagerly lean into, settling her nerves. She smiles with her tongue in between her teeth, leaning in to kiss you.  

You kiss her back, taking over with a hand cradling the back of her head, the background noise of the party fading out leaving only the woman’s quiet whimpers against your lips.

Somehow, you stumble your way to a bathroom in the venue, bumping into walls and disgruntled partygoers along the way. You summon all your strength and place Robin on top of the counter, kissing down her neck at a now perfect angle.

In between the kisses you press to her neck, you ask, “You gonna let me take you right here? Hm?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, eyes shut. 

“Anyone could walk in, you know. I bet you’d like that. You just want everyone to see how pretty you are, all breathless like this for me,” You ramble on as your hands come up to the collar of her shirt. 

Robin’s makeshift costume (a red flannel and jeans) made for easy access, the buttons were flimsy and wonderfully easy to tear open. 

“But they don’t get to,” you continue on, “only I do. Only I get to see you like this, isn’t that right?”

She desperately tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping away from her with every button you tear open. “Who - who says they already haven’t, stranger?” 

You drop the charade. “Nobody, Robin. No one gets this.” You tear open the buttons with even more vigor. 

She nods, pressing up into your touch, her hands grip your shoulders. “Just you, promise.” Robin sighs out as you finally finish unbuttoning her shirt. “Keep going,” she encourages you, as if you’d stop. Not when you have her squirming under you, her body begging for more. For you.

You want to tear off her jeans and make her fall apart right there, in the bathroom on the counter, where probably everyone could hear Robin’s moans. You’ll save that for tonight. For now, you’re content to grab her perfect tits over her bra, groping them as your lips smash together once more.

Your hands make their way down Robin’s body and under her jeans, rubbing her pussy over the cotton of her panties. She rolls her hips against your hands, moans against your lips until she can’t help but let her head fall back. 

“Everybody’s hearing you make me yours,” she moans out, in awe. You grin, biting her lips softly while your skilled fingers dip under her panties, teasing her entrance.

She bucks her hips again, trying to slide your fingers in herself, but failing and whining out in frustration. “So needy,” you chide, your fingers sliding up to rub her clit. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream. “C’mon, stranger. Cum for me.” 

It takes her a little while longer to get there, you slide your middle finger inside her and let your thumb stimulate her clit, but eventually, she’s falling apart. Her cries of pleasure echo throughout the bathroom, the symphony dying down as she finishes riding out her orgasm on your hand. 

She scoots herself back and rests her head against the cool tile and shuts her eyes with a pleased smile on her face.

[abedsweaters]

Season 6 Episode 9: Grifting 101

So i figured as part of finishing this series I should actually rewatch one of the episodes in full and I was like hm! I think Matt Berry is funny, sure I haven’t seen the sting but it’s probably not as bad as i remember. And it wasn’t as bad? I think it had a decent amount of humor in it and Matt Berry is super funny in a unique way, but the things that made Community feel very special - i.e. the group bonds, the way the characters felt very genuine - is completely gone. This feels like watching an episode of a sitcom that I haven’t seen the rest of. Also sorry but Chang, Elroy, and Frankie really don’t fit in with the rest of them.

Outfit 1: Black and Red Flannel 3

Classification: Flannel

Rating: 5/5

I really the flannels with thee more distinct squares! It gives it a fun kinda mosaic feel.

Outfit 2: Gray and Blue Cardigan appearance #2: reviewed here

Outfit 3: Yellow Hoodie 2

Classification: Hoodie

Rating: 4/5

Good color! Inferior to the other yellow hoodie

Outfit 4: Gray and Pink Cardigan

Classification: Cardigan

Rating: 3/5

Fine! Didn’t get a very good look at it but the color is nice. 

[stanleysbuttonblog]

The morning after he’d properly woken up– from the coma. He’d spent a lot of the night scrolling through Tumblr and then falling asleep next to his boyfriend. So it wasn’t the most proper awakening.

Regardless, he was full of energy now, and he decided to text {SCEPTER}. He did genuinely want to hang out with her, especially if she was… upset. 

So he did.

_hey {SCEPTER} its stanley :) i am texting you if you want to hang out we can do that now

_narry is still sleeping lol i think hell be passed out for the whole day. did he sleep at all??

_he doesnt exactly need to but if hes using his powers he gets fucky if he doesnt :/

And then he waited for a response as he got dressed. Hmm, a blue flannel sounded nice today.

His phone pinged.

-Hey, Stanley. I’m in my garden, s’outside, in the left hand side of the woods assuming you’re facing away from the arena. Just, like, follow the direction the random trees are pointing. Like, the dirt gouges. :) it will lead you there. Maybe you can also see the stone tower?

_yeah okay!! im on my way now :D

He headed down out of the apartments, and headed into the forest. Which was… considerably more floral than he last remembered. Lots of black and white flowers. And blue ones. Oh, and a few sunflowers. He liked those.

He made his way into the clearing in quick time, and waved to {SCEPTER} immediately.

“Hey, Stanley!” She said. She was sitting, hood down, next to a pond shaped a bit like a crater. The flowers went up to the very edge of it. Around the edge of the clearing were fruit trees that were probably ready to be picked. On the right side was a massive stone pillar covered in ivy. It looked like it’d been grown from the ground.

{SCEPTER} had a pile of a few different kinds of fruits next to her in the flowers.

[Hi!] Stanley signed, walking over and sitting down across from her. [This is a nice spot!]

She tilted her head, “Thank you. I made it with my keyblade.” She smiled, turning a fruit of some kind over and over in her hands. It was about the size of her palm and a light blue color. It looked to be partially made of petals.

[Oh, that’s a cool fruit. Which one is that again?]

“Oh, this is- I haven’t named it yet. It’s kind of like a blueberry, I guess, but it’s something new. I dreamt it one time.” She offered it to him.

Stanley took it and held it gingerly, turning it over in his hand. He set it down in his lap to sign.

[You made this? Like, created it from nothing and from your imagination?]

“Well, yes, I suppose,” she said, and pointed to a low lying tree, almost a bush, along the edge of the clearing. It was pretty, he thought, but it had massive thorns almost everywhere. Come to think of it, all of the fruit trees did. “I grew it. Came from that one there.” She looked down at the pile, “I’m pretty sure most of these are either mixes or entirely something I made, actually. Not quite sure, though. Can’t really remember creating them.”

[Huh.] Stanley signed approvingly, looking at the rest of the fruits. [That’s… pretty fucking cool.]

“I’m glad you think so. Xigbar and Sora rushed out like ‘No! Stop!’” She picked up another fruit to hold- this one like an apple with pink spirals swirling all over it. “I’m afraid I can’t taste any of them,” She said sort of sadly, “If i’m right, that one-” She nodded towards the one she’d given him, “Should taste like vanilla, maybe. Half-remembered vanilla, perhaps.”

Stanley looked at it, and then carefully took a bite out of the fruit.

Hm.

[Vanilla, but not really all that sweet, which feels a bit weird, because most of the time you have vanilla in sweets, right? But it’s not like vanilla extract. Which I drunk one time because, y’know, it’s edible. But eugh, it’s bitter. Anyhow. That, and also a hint of just… kind of apple? Like, the apple wetness. But not the flavor. And the texture is like a grape.]

She smiled at him, “That’s how it tasted in my dream. I- it’s probably a bit odd because I haven’t tasted anything except swamp sauce and capsaicin in the last 2000 or so years, but you know.”

[I like it pretty well.] Stanley signed. [Can I try another one?]

“Of course!” She said, gesturing to the pile. “There’s a few of every kind here, I think. Though maybe I missed a few,” She looked around at the clearing.

Stanley picked up a fruit with a bright pink peel on the outside, which he took off, to reveal a green fruit segmented into little crescents which tessellated in a beautiful, spiraling manner.

He peeled out a segment and tried it.

[This one is sour, but also pretty sweet. It feels like how I want glowsticks to taste. Oh! Do you think it glows in the dark?]

She tilted her head, “Maybe.” She lifted the fruit she was holding to her mouth and took a bite- it sounded like a cartoonishly crisp apple. “I can taste this one,” she said, then pointed to a duplicate in the pile, “So be careful with it. It’s a sugar bomb.”

Stanley nodded, and chose to select instead a fruit that was remarkably yellow. It was shaped almost like a donut, with a strange webbed stem in the center that could easily be pushed out. He took a bite, and immediately felt an incredible sensation of deja vu. As a flavor.

Another bite. Huh, the seeds in here were twisting in a kind of weird way. This time, it was like a potato. Crossed with a raspberry. Crossed with a pineapple. Yeah, that was definitely deja vu.

[Tastes like deja vu. Which is potatoes, pineapples, and raspberries.]

“Oh, fascinating,” she said. He sensed an air of sadness around her.

[I mean, you might be able to taste the deja vu, even if you can’t taste all its parts? It’s a pretty overwhelming sensation.]

“Oh-” She smiled kind of sadly, “I think deja vu might be the last thing I need right now. It’s alright.”

Stanley looked at her, and reached out to pat her on the shoulder.

[Do you want to talk about… that now?]

After a moment, she nodded.

[Okay. So, uh. Your ex?]

“Yes. Worse than we thought.” She stared at the fruit in her hand. “I- have I told you I’m a mother? Or, I used to be?”

[Yeah, you mentioned it.] Stanley signed tensely.

“Well. Yeah. I had two daughters. Paphus was my eldest, I had her when I was one or so, and then Metharme, my youngest, when I was three. Paphus, when she was 14, we went on a walk in the woods and met the goddess Artemis. I… I let Paphus join her immortal maiden huntresses- they stay young forever. In retrospect, it was the best choice I’ve ever made, I think.”

Stanley stares at her for a bit, and then signs, with a sort of angry precision he doesn’t typically have.

[You were… one.]

She blinked, “Yes?”

[And you had a child. You– you got pregnant and had a child.]

She nodded, “Yes.” Like she didn’t see the problem with that.

Stanley stared at her, and then immediately went in for a tight hug.

He heard her gasp slightly, and then hug him back. After a moment she rested her head on his shoulder. 

He rubbed a gentle circle into her back with his hand, and didn’t let go. Nope. Not fucking letting go, they can just hang out here, together, and be comfy. Because this is somehow just the fucking start of what she wants to say.

Stanley doesn’t need to sign anything right now. He needs to hold onto his fucking friend.

“I-” he heard her say, “Stanley, that’s just background. That’s- I thought that was obvious. Of course I-”

He shook his head, and moved back to sign, but still remained close.

[No, that’s– that’s fucked up. You were one. Mentally one. You– that is what you meant, right? Because I count my age in a weird way too, but– you were a kid, right?]

She stared at the fruit in her hand, “I- I sort of came preloaded with some things. Knowledge of the gods, how to keep house-”

[That’s not… maturity. That isn’t what makes an adult.]

“I- I know, Stanley. I was- i still saw everything for the very first time. I was scared of the dark until well after Paphus was gone,” She said, “I- I still can’t read ancient greek, so. But that’s background. I- I knew all of that. That was my surface level understanding of ‘he sucks’.”

Stanley stared at her, took a moment to look up to the sky and stare deeply into it as he composed himself, and then looked back at {SCEPTER}.

[Okay. Go on.]

“Okay. So. I knew he was bad. I- I mean, admittedly-” she looked at him with uncertainty, “I-” she looked down, “I can’t talk to Xigbar about this part. I tried and he wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t give an inch. I-” She looked up at him, sort of hopefully.

[What is it? I can at least listen.]

“Well, it’s-” She looked back down at her fruit, “My feelings towards him- [Name Redacted], they’re… complicated.”

[Okay. What sort of complicated?]

“I- I hate him, obviously. I’m scared of him. I want to- what did you say?” She looked up at him, “I want to put him in the ‘torment nexus’?”

[Yeah. Tormentatastic]

She smiled slightly, “Yeah. Well. He also. I- using a parallel, I sort of asked Xigbar if he thought, maybe, [Name Redacted] might have cared about me? Don’t answer yet!” she looked up at him, then back down, “I- I was there for sixty years. S-surely, he. I mean, he must’ve, right? I- I have these, these memories, of early on, he’d help me brush my hair, and- and show me how to do things. I- Xigbar wouldn’t give an inch. He was insistent. But.” she looked up at him with nothing but uncertainty, “He-? He can be the worst person ever and deserve to die and… still have cared? A little? Maybe?” 

Stanley thought for a good bit, and then nodded slowly.

[I think he probably cared. I just– I don’t know if he saw you as human. I don’t know if he saw me as human. And– whatever that care was, I don’t think it’s the same as… loving an equal. You know, the kind that… actual relationships are built upon. But sixty years? He has to have at least gotten… attached.]

She relaxed, looking up at him thankfully, “So I’m not crazy? I- it’s not some lingering will-issue-driven thought?”

[What? No. Did you think you were crazy? Like, genuinely?]

“I- I thought something was going on!” She waved her fruit around in her lap a little, “I don’t know about crazy, but. Irrational. Disconnected from reality. Deluded.”

[Oh. That’s… bad. Still bad. You’re– no, you’re not delusional, {SCEPTER}. You’re right. This is a complicated situation, and– at the very least, his stupid Tumblr shows that he’s possessive. And that means– well, possessiveness stems from a desire, right? And obsessive– obsession stems from an interest. I think. I haven’t ever taken psychology.]

She looked at him appreciatively. “I- I’m- yeah. Yeah.” she nodded. “Thank you. I- it’s hard to think of him like- like a monster, you know? I- every time I do, I remember when he’d bring home a new flower, or braid Paphus’s hair, or-.”

[You kicked him in the knee for me. Long as you can do that, you know, when it really counts? It’s okay if your thoughts are… weird. Confusing. Whatever. It’s your mind.]

She gave him half a smile, “If you liked the knee kick, wait until you hear what I did when he snuck up on me in the hallway with two teenagers and a blind Xigbar.”

[Xigbar was blind? Is he still blind? And please tell me how you hurt him. Dick.]

“He snuck up on Xigbar in the kitchen and punched him in his good eye. It swelled shut. It’s better now, I healed him. Anyway, Xigbar shot him in the leg, then. But later in the day, after Sora and Riku showed up to bring Xigbar and I back here, he snuck up on me, yelled out ‘[OMITTED LAYER 2]’, and i- i don’t really know what came over me, but I snatched one of Xigbar’s arrowguns and then pushed him and Sora and Riku into the apartment and locked them in. Then i ran him down like a bull. Hit him with the butt of the arrowgun, though. Life force connection and all that. Then I told him to crawl. Like a worm.”

[Oh, hell yeah. That’s sick.]

She smiled at him, then it faded and was replaced with a sort of ‘Welp!’ expression, “And this was before I knew about the thing Xigbar was hiding from me. I mentioned that yesterday?”

[Yeah, you did. I. Fuck, what was it?]

“Well.” She said, her voice taking that gossipy tone she had yesterday, “So- and I’m saying this lightly or else I’ll turn into a tree- I told you about Paphus just now, how she went to the hunters? Well. Metharme did Not Do That. Metharme stayed at home and grew up and got married, and-” She froze, “Shit, I just realized I kind of left this entire detail out. [Name Redacted] was the king of Cyprus. I was a queen during all of this, by the way-”

[You were a fucking queen? Like. A queen. And you still had to do housework for him.]

She sort of tilted her head and gave a sardonic grin, “Yeah. What a dick, right?”

[Major dick. Okay, so… Metharme.]

“Okay, yeah. Uh. Trigger warning for, like, fucking everything, okay?”

[It’s [name redacted], that… kinda seems to be a given for him. You can go on.]

“I’m gonna tell it like I remember it, and then I’ll tell you how I found out what actually happened, alright? So- here I am, age, like, whatever. 23 plus 3, so 26 I guess. Metharme had gotten married, everything is great! Well one day, she goes missing. And we never find her, ooOOoooOooh~” She wiggled her fingers at him, clearly trying to add levity. 

[Yeah, alright.] Stanley said, smiling a little, even though he was not feeling that smiley. He, in fact, wanted to sort of just. Combination hug {SCEPTER} and also torment nexus [name redacted] and also get married to Narry and also see Cesare and play hangman. Just. Only good things. That would make him smiley.

He still smiles, because the attempt was good. Just. Hard to be funny when there’s… y’know. Everything else.

“So,” She said, “I’m a husk of a person back then, so I don’t really question it. I mean, I question it, but what can I do? So I don’t. I just wait until Artemis- the goddess- eventually gives me a brief blessing of will and then I took off in the night. And for a long time, I didn’t really think about it any deeper than ‘she went missing’. But then, I’m like, ‘I wonder if I have any descendants’, so I go to wikipedia and it turns out I have a fuck ton?? I’m talking like, Heracles and shit. He’s my great great fuck off great grandson. On his mother’s side, obviously. Like, I have descendants that are gods, Stanley, because Heracles became a god and then had kids. Like- woah? But- do you see the issue yet? With this picture?”

[Yeah. Cause. Paphus’s an immortal 14 year old. So no kids from her. And, you only had two kids.]

“Yes, exactly. And I’m thinking, ‘these have gotta be descendants of Metharme’. Only I don’t remember her having any kids before she went missing. And when I try to go to her wikipedia page, it just jumps to Beroe’s- that the earliest descendant I could trace, and that’s my great granddaughter. So I’m missing Metharme and her mysterious child. And I’m like, ‘Okay, so it’s not working for me. Maybe it will work for Xigbar’- and I’m like ‘Hey, Xigbar, can you look up Metharme?’ and he’s like ‘Yeah, sure doll’, and I'm like ‘cool’. And then I don’t hear anything back for like two days on the subject.”

[Ohhh no.]

“Yeeeaaahhhhhh-” she said, “So I’m like, ‘hey bestie, did it work for you?’ and looks at me and is like ‘no’ and I IMMEDIATELY know he’s bullshitting me, he gets this look. And I’m all trying to give him opportunities to backtrack and he doesn’t. So i’m like, ‘Okay, he knows what happened, and it’s bad bad.’ Yeah?”  

[Yeah, that’s reasonable. I mean, I don’t think he’d fuck around with you.]

She nodded, “And like- I drop it. I’m like, ‘he’s not gonna tell me’, so I drop it. But now it’s driving me nuts. So I- later that night- I grab two things of Swamp Sauce and down one and I go wander in the woods to yell at the gods. As you do. But I don’t find the gods in the woods, I find Xigbar’s dad.”

[Oh. Is he… bad?]

“He-” She sort of waved her hand, “He’s culty and weird and, you know, a biblically accurate angel, and he forced Xigbar to do his dirty work for 2000 years while he completely ignored him- but he’s not all bad. I’ve learned to tolerate him. For Xigbar.”

[Okay. So does this… yelling at Xigbar’s dad, how’s that go?]

“Well first I was yelling at a thingy in a tree, and then I realized it was Xigbar’s dad. But anyway I yell some shit that I don’t remember because I was trashed on two full flasks of swamp sauce. And then he unblocks me on tumblr as a sign of goodwill and then we have a conversation, and I’m all like ‘Xigbar is lying to meee’” She mimicked a cry, almost mocking herself, “and he’s all like, ‘yeah, he does that’, and then I’m like ‘My daughter probably got chased by a god and turned into a treeeee’  and he’s all like ‘I’m so sorry’-”

[Wait. Wait. Hold up. Tree? Why-- why would you think she was a tree?]

“I’m from ancient Greece, Stanley,” She tossed the apple-like fruit from hand to hand, “That’s just how it was back then. Sometimes you just turned into a tree. But anyway, so I’m talking to the Xigdad, and I’m all ready to tell him my name because I’m drunk and sad and lonely, but he already knows it, and I’m like, ‘well if you know who I am, do you know what happened to Metharme?’ and bitch goes ‘yes i do’ and I’m like ‘say more right now.’  Ready?” She leaned in a bit.

[Yeah.] Stanley signed, straightening up a bit as if to brace for the news.

“He tells me, that she was- trigger warning for [nickname redacted] shit- Cursed by a goddess to lust after my goddamn ex husband. You know, her father?”

[Oh no.] he signed. He took a moment to rapidly tap his fingers together, processing this information, and then he signed, very empathetically, [Fuck!]

“Fuck indeed, Stanley!” She said, nodding, her air still that of someone sharing gossip, “Fuck indeed. She goes into his room. And then. Yeah.”  She said, “And then! And then! She snaps out of it, runs into the woods, and turns into a tree. So I was right about one thing, at least.”

[I still don’t get how… the tree thing is normal. But alright.]

“Sometimes you just feel so bad about yourself that some god takes pity and trees you.” She said.

[Okay. So, uh-- so how do we get. I mean, I. She has to have a kid, yeah?]

She nodded as he signed, “The baby simply exits the tree.”

[What about her original husband? What happened with that guy?]

“I was there for that,” She said, waving her hand, “He ended up challenging Apollo to a thingy and then Mars killed him, like it was his business. Mars,” She said emphatically, “A roman god. Hello?”

[Yeah, I still don’t… get that. I just-- man, this tree thing must have been really normal. Like, who found her kid? Did he know about how she got cursed? To, uh, lust. Not the tree. I take it the tree was more of a blessing.]

“Y- Okay. Hold on. Back to the story, okay? So Xigdad tells me then and I start wailing, just losing it, and I’m about to cry out for, like, the tree thing to happen to me, yeah? Because I can’t take it. But Xigdad, he comes down and he’s like, ‘Hey, take my coat, you look cold’ so I do, and then he sort of half-carries me back to Xigbar and I konk out on him instantly. Xigbar, not his dad. And I wake up in the morning, blah blah blah, Xigbar and I watch Tangled, blah blah, I ask him, ‘What god cursed Metharme to do that’- and this motherfucker-” She held up her hands in a sort of ‘you’re not gonna believe this’ way- “Stanley, have I told you who my fucking mother is?”

[I don’t… think so. No. I know [nickname redacted] was your dad, kinda, in a weird way, but not your mom.]

“My mother-” She said, “Who brought me to life, was Aphrodite, okay? Guess who fucking cursed my daughter, Stanley.”

[Uh. Her.]

“Mmhmm!” She said in a sort of high pitched voice, sounding angry now, “My mother cursed my daughter to fuck my husband! And then turn into a tree! Now, Stanley, it gets worse yet! Are you ready?”

[I. I guess so? How can it get worse?] he signed, cringing a bit.

“The baby, yeah? Name’s Adonis. He is found, by, you guessed it, Aphrodite! And then he grows up, and has a motherfucking kid with- You guessed it! Aphro-motherfucking-dite!”

[Oh… oh, that’s just… erghhhhhh. She. What, she has to have raised him, right?]

“Ha! As if-” She paused, “Sorry. He’s rubbing off on me. But no! She didn’t raise him, she took him to the fucking underworld to be raised! By Persephone! And then she came back once he was grown, and- augh!” She waved her hands around, disgusted.

[Very gross.] Stanley signed in agreement.

“An-y-way-” she said, “That’s all I know so far. About that. There’s only one question left, and I was like ‘Hey Xigbar, do you know this?’ and he went ‘yeah’ and I’m like ‘Should I ask?’ and he went ‘Please no’, so I haven’t yet. It’s just- Where was I during all of this? And it’s like, sure, I don’t want to know, but I need to know!”

[I-- huh. Yeah. I-- I mean, if you need to, then… ask him. Or me! I can also check, right?]

She sighed, “I’m sure you can, Stanley, I do think it would work for you. But-” She sort of waffled, “I want to hear it from Xigbar, if I decide I want to hear it. Finish what he started, you know?”

[Okay. Yeah, I mean. You asked for him to tell you originally. And he lied. You have a right to know about your own fucking daughter.]

“Literally!” She said, “Thank you! Xigdad said the name thing! I- his names not Xigdad, it’s ‘ThE mAsTeR oF MaStErS’ but I’m not fucking calling him that. So Xigdad it is.”

[Oh yeah that’s really stupid. That’s not a name. That’s like. Two titles pretending to be a name. That are trying too hard.]

“Yeah, no, literally-” she said, “I have an excuse to be going by Showrunner- I mean, 1, it was originally to hide from [name redacted], and 2, I’m not fucking going by [OMMITED LAYER 2]. Oh, and 3, [OMMITED LAYER 2]’s not my name anymore. My keyblade took it-” She summoned her keyblade- it was a giant ornate key that was pink. It had a stripe along the stem that looked like Xigbar’s hair.

[Yeah. I-- I’m not. {SCEPTER} I literally date a guy who is the Narrator. Showrunner is cool. ‘Master of Masters’ is silly.]

“Thank you!” She said, “And he only calls himself that because he taught keyblade-ism or whatever to a bunch of people who eventually became masters of keyblade-ism themselves, but that’s like- that's just how it works? Oh, yeah, by the way, I got my keyblade from Xigbar, he said a poem thingy, he’s a keyblade master, he can do that.”

[Can I have one?]

She paused for a moment, looking at hers, “I think so. He’s probably not gonna want to, but like, I can be like, ‘Xigbar, you’re being mean and that hurts my feelings’ and he’ll cave.”

[Cause it just. I don’t necessarily feel like I really have to, but I think it’d be cool, y’know?]

“Oh, yeah, no, definitely. Mine was mostly just for shits and giggles with a side of therapy.”

[Oh, speaking of therapy-- is there anything else you need to like, get out of your system? Any more shit with your ex?]

“Ummmm,” She said, tilting her head and thinking. She dismissed her keyblade in a flash of light, “Hm. I’m not sure! That’s mostly what’s been eating me lately. I mean, there’s the whole issue of, like, being reminded of his expectations of me or whatever, but like, the combo of having a keyblade- a manifestation of my heart, and it doesn’t look like a wedding ring?- and Xigbar being, like, a normal fucking person, comparatively, that’s fading a bit. I was actually able to cook without feeling strangled. Made jackets, too.”

[Oh! That’s nice! If you do have stuff you want to talk about, y’know, I’m here.]

She nodded, then was quiet for a little while.

Stanley reached over to hug her again.

She squeezed him back, and then let go. “The Narrator and I vaguely talked things out, by the way.”

He looked at her with some amount of surprise. [You talked?]

“Of course we talked.” she tilted her head, “I had to let him out of the snowglobe, and then I-”

[I didn’t think you’d do it personally. And I-- even if you did, I didn’t think you’d want to be around him. You don’t like him.]

“It’s not that I didn’t like him, Stanley, it’s that I feared him. But after the first time I came to visit you, check in on his progress fixing you, that mostly went away.”

[I mean. Yeah. Like, you can fear him, and he definitely has the capability to do… a lot of shit. But that doesn’t mean he’s just… going to.]

She nodded, “Yeah, well, I didn’t fear him for any eldritch reasons. If that’s the case, I’d be shaking in my boots from Xigdad. No-” She shook her head.

[Oh. The-- creating.]

“Yeah,” she said, “But then, during the talk, he found [name redacted] not only ridiculous, but also Yucky, and then indulged me in a bit of a talk. Oh, and he agreed to some additional nerfs- which I didn’t end up going through with! Aside from Necrogenesis, get that shit outta here- and said he’d listen to my authority, which had a large part in calming me down.”

Stanley nodded approvingly. [That’s good.]

“Yeah.” she said, “he-” she rolled her eyes, “during my little meltdown that made this clearing, he did  kind of show up and tell me I was inconveniencing him?? Which was rude. And he tried to give Xigbar a concussion or a broken neck or worse, which was SO fucking ruder, like excuse me that’s my goon and boyfriend-” she looked at him “I know. I know. Train Tracks, whatever. It was still rude, he did it right in front of me after he’d agreed not to do that. Tried to drop a big ass computer on his head, must’ve weighed, what, 15 pounds? more?”

Stanley winced slightly and then covered his mouth. To hide the small giggle. He really hoped it worked. Fuck. That would definitely have hurt, but also, kind of funny.

[Yeah.] he signed after a bit. [I, uh. He’s like that.]

She raised an eyebrow at him in a friendly sort of way, “I saw that laugh, Stanley.”

[Look it would be funny. Like a cartoon anvil. Right?]

“Except Xigbar’s not a cartoon.”

[He’s from a video game.]

She held back a giggle, and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Stanley. The name Tetsuya Nomura means nothing to me, and Kingdom Hearts is a place and a concept.”

[{SCEPTER} I had to genuinely believe that for a good bit so. Please stop. Actually.]

She said, “Yeah, okay, Sorry. You should talk to Sora, he’s delightful, and he’s not in denial like Xigbar is. He actually asked for the games so he could play them.”

[Xigbar’s… still in denial.]

“I honestly think it stems from a fear of losing what little control over his life he has. I get that.”

Stanley smirked at that. [Yeah. He definitely was upset when I suggested-- the horror-- that there was nothing he could do. Which, you know. Was genuinely horrifying for him. But honestly. It’s-- that happens. That’s life.]

“Yeah,” she said, “But- uh, nothing he could do about what?”

[About you being gone. For the time being, you know, while we were waiting for me to get summoned.]

She tilted her head, smiling fondly, “Aww, he likes me. Cringe.”

Stanley groaned. [You’re literally dating.]

“I know! I’m half making fun of him because he cannot take a compliment without turning it around. I think he’s scared. It’s kind of exhausting, honestly?”

[{SCEPTER}, he’s not here. Do you. Oh, do you want to bitch about him some more? I’m still really fucking pissed I think I need to like. Do a few things to annoy him.]

She smiled, “Annoy him, huh?”

[Clip a radio out of bounds and make it consistently play a song he hates to annoy him.]

“Hey, careful there. He and I share an apartment,” She said, smiling.

[Okay, well. What’s a song you like, that he doesn’t?]

“Honestly I’m not sure,” she said, “We haven’t really listened to music much. I’ll get back to you on that.”

[Fair enough. I’ll shelf that idea for now. Definitely doing it at some point, though.]

“Um-” She said, “About the compliment thing- lowkey, next time he does it, I kinda wanna just start being like, ‘Oh, me liking you in cringe? I’ll go talk to, uh, Axel then, he seems cool’- and just replace the coworker name. Mess with him. I think it’d be funny. Some of them are dead, but,” She smiled, “You know me.”

Stanley nodded awkwardly. [Yeah, I don’t have the best… relationship advice? I don’t have advice on relationships, period.]

“Not advice, really. Just messing with him. Make him squirm.”

[Oh, well. I definitely encourage fucking with him.]

She nodded, then said, “You really should talk to Sora. We can talk about Xigbar behind his back together.”

[Oooh. Sleepover night?]

“If Sora wanted to, that’d be so fun. We could-” She grinned, “We could play Kingdom Hearts?”

[Wait holy shit. Wait you can summon stuff. What if. Yes to kingdom hearts but also you could summon my game? Gods I wonder what that would even do.]

“Right, because you got pulled in normally,” she said, “What if we load it up and it’s empty?”

[I don’t think that’d… I don’t know? I mean, there’s like-- as I understand it, from my friend-- well, semi-friend-- 432-- there’s an theoretically infinite number of parables. And those are the copies of the video game. So. They’re probably still working. Hm. The Narrator might know?]

“That’d be crazy, though, wouldn’t it?” She smiled. “Uh, we could ask him, I guess.”

[I would like it if my friend and my boyfriend could also be friends.] Stanley signed with a smile.

“Sentences I also say about everyone else I know.” She said jokingly.

[Okay. How about that, then? I try being friends with Xigbar, and you do the same for Narry.]

“I have been trying that,” She said, “I’ve been practicing my utmost diplomacy.”

[Yeah, but I wasn’t there. And-- oh, you tried to be diplomatic?]

She said, “I mean, yeah. That’s generally my first step before being friendly.”

[If you-- yeah. Yeah, but, you see, he’s… him. So he’ll treat diplomacy with diplomacy. And, even beyond that, to get into his emotional core? You have to piss him off a bit. Specific sort of way. Over something he knows is kind of stupid or meaningless in the grand scheme.]

“I could kick his ass at Mario kart?”

[Yeah! Yes, exactly! But don’t insult his skill, he’s… he’s really insecure, honestly. Just do it, and like, still keep playing Mario Kart. Brag about your own skill, but don’t hit down at him.]

“Oh, I know, believe me. I’ve dealt with artist types before,” She said, waving her hand, then froze, “I- I don’t mean that in a-”

[It’s okay.] Stanley signed tensely. [They’re-- yeah. Artist types. In general.]

She nodded, “Yeah. Anyway, I kind of picked up on that during our talks. After the whole computer incident I left him alone for a little while then came back and apologized- for Xigbar. I didn’t do anything wrong there. But next step after that was ‘Oh, I see you’re working so hard, and that takes skill’- you get it.”

Stanley nodded, still a bit apprehensive, but agreeing nonetheless.

She paused- “Is something wrong?”

[Yes. But I don’t really want to-- it’s not-- it’s not something we can fix.]

She tilted her head at him, “Something I said?”

[Yes. But I don’t-- I don’t want to go into it any more.]

She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “Very well. I- I don’t quite understand what, but very well.” she picked up a fruit that ranged in color from white to blue to orange to red, and nibbled it. Her eyes widened, “Oh! Spice bomb. That, I can taste.”

Stanley nodded, picked up one of the swirled apples, and took an overwhelmingly sugary bite.

[goodluckclove]

UPDATE: I DID IT. YOU GUYS GET ALL OF IT.

It did not turn out how I imagined (aint that how it goes) but I think it's very sweet and loving and tender enough to probably cause physical damage somehow, so be careful.

Enough was enough. Scott took his hand and touched his fingers against the base of Edgar’s neck. He moved his fingertips until just where his beard was starting to fully come in. The ocean in Scott’s chest was calm and swirling with longing.

“It’s a good body,” Scott told Edgar. “I like your body a lot.”

Edgar fluttered his eyes again, a slight blush touching his cheeks. “You do?”

Scott nodded.

“I didn’t think...you felt things like that,” Edgar darted his eyes away without moving from the touch of Scott’s hand against his face. “When we spent the night together for the first time, we never really…”

“Had sex?” Scott finished.

“I’m not complaining!” Edgar quieted his tone and made that face that Scott assumed accompanied a bunch of internal insults. “I-It was great. And we did a lot. Honestly it didn’t even occur to me to push for more at the time, it was just – wow.”

There it was again. That slowly approaching ramble Scott loved so much. This was definitely the same person who asked him out on a date and then immediately spent five minutes describing the traffic patterns of his surrounding neighborhood.

“If you don’t like sex you don’t like sex,” Edgar quickly confirmed. “That doesn’t bother me. I like what we have.”

The acceptance was quick and entirely sincere. Edgar was more willing to accept Scott’s distaste for sex than Scott was himself. It was strange to imagine, after being handled in so many confusing ways by so many faceless people for years on end, who is was with now meant not being touched like that again for as long as they were together. Maybe forever.

His eyes felt warm and hot. This was the most beautiful person Scott had ever met in his entire life.

“I don’t like sex,” that was the first time Scott ever allowed himself to say that out loud. “But...I like other things.”

Edgar was maintaining eye contact with Scott, even though it was clear that he was more focused on the way Scott’s hand was now carefully working its fingers through the curls gathered on the back of his head.

“L-Like what?” Edgar managed.

There was no need for the low gold of Edgar’s magic for his large brown eyes to be nothing short of magnetic. It wasn’t until his lover averted his gaze for a moment that Scott was free to lower his line of sight to where Edgar had the first button of his flannel safely fastened. It wasn’t at the top of the collar, but rather a few buttons down, leaving an exposed patch of fair, warm-toned skin that went hidden slightly below his collarbone.

Scott saw Edgar button up his shirt that morning. Watched him calmly work his way through each button, fingers moving nimbly, and tried to stifle his disappointment.

“You should take off your shirt,” Scott said.

He heard Edgar’s breath hitch in his throat, then stutter in an attempt at laughter. “Are you serious?”

“Mm-hm,” Scott looked down and briefly considered the modest, brightly-floral sundress he wore that day. “Here, I’ll do it too.”

He moved around in place slightly to allow room for him to fumble off his dress and toss it across the room. Then he pulled out the elastic that tied up his hair and shook the locks loose and free around his face. With all that done he already felt a lot better, and while he half-expected Edgar to break down in a panic his lover watched him do all this with little else but curiosity.

“You really don’t like clothes,” he observed.

Scott grinned a moment, amused at being seen so clearly. “Shoes. Pants. Ultimately they all just slow me down.”

Edgar quirked his lips into a bemused smirk. He looked like he wanted to push the issue before ultimately deciding better of it. Scott felt his heart gripped by the middle and dragged up and out of his throat as Edgar’s eyes traced his body. Not with hunger. Not even with desire – just a quiet confirmation, a sort of unspoken security that came from making sure that everything meant to be there was.

As if Scott was meant to be there. He shivered, even in the safe warmth of the room.

After some further thought, Edgar looked down and quietly began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don’t understand why this is happening,” he said as it stripped himself.

“Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Edgar said. “I’m just confused.”

Once his shirt was unbuttoned he worked his way out of his jeans, eventually tossing them both towards the foot of the bed. He sat with his legs crossed on the mattress and his shoulders slightly drawn in. Because even though they’d gone to bed together like this every night since they arrived, now that Edgar knew Scott specifically was looking to see him undressed he suddenly had something to be embarrassed about.

Scott sat across from Edgar and tried not to look too outwardly enthusiastic. He decided to start by carefully adjusting his bond’s shoulders, guiding him to straighten up his posture and take more space in the room. Edgar allowed this. He looked embarrassed.

“This is not how I thought this conversation would go,” he said, refusing to look Scott in the eye.

“I like your chest.”

Edgar made the motion of speaking, though no words came out. From the edge of Scott’s vision he saw his bond grip the topmost blanket in his hands for a pulse. That would not be enough to stop him.

“You have good chest hair,” Scott gently ghosted his fingertips in lazy spirals across the middle of Edgar’s chest. “And here where it’s the thickest it kind of curls. It’s nice. It feels nice.”

He barely had two fingers pressed against Edgar’s bare chest and still had no problem picking up on the tremor of his heartbeat through every unsteady breath. His bond still refused to look at him.

“Edgar?” Scott questioned, stopping his movements.

“I’m out of shape,” Edgar said dully.

“You’re soft. You’re soft and you’re warm,” Scott grazed his thumb against the edge of Edgar’s breast. “I like touching you.”

Finally Edgar met his stare. “You don’t consider this sexual?”

“Do you?”

Edgar shifted his mouth to the side, shyly coming to rest his hand against Scott’s knee. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “No? I don’t think so? But – shit – I couldn’t explain why.”

The touch of Edgar’s hand against Scott’s knee felt like such a release. A sudden rainfall that covers everything at once so quickly that you can barely remember a time before the water. Scott smirked at his own weakness and tried to steady his senses.

“I think if this would be sexual it would be because it’s going to lead to...sex,” Scott tried not to laugh. “Do you want to have sex?”

Edgar was looking down at Scott’s hand against his chest when he said that. Once he gathered Scott was asking him a question, he looked up and tried to remember what was just said.

He shook his head. Scott finally snickered.

“So what do you want to do?” He asked Edgar.

This felt like a risk for the first few moments after the question left his lips. And again, something in Scott tensed uncertainly when Edgar moved forward and carefully pushed him down onto the bed. He felt his bond straddle him and create an uncertain new swirl of heat and pressure. Scott’s focus wavered and returned to him. He looked up at Edgar, who sat upright with a knee on either side of him, looking just a surprised as Scott was.

“I-Is this okay?” Edgar said. “I’m – um – not trying to initiate anything. I don’t...I just wanted to do this. I don’t know why. Should I stop?”

Scott didn’t know what to say to that. It was times like this when he was forced to remember how many people wouldn’t have given him an offer like that after getting him in a position like this.

Fear crossed Edgar’s face. He stammered an apology and started to move before Scott finally found his voice.

“Wait, please.”

Edgar waited. Scott stayed still. Gradually, over what felt like a very long time, everything relaxed. Edgar stopped holding his body to be only barely touching Scott’s. He fully pressed against him, completely unaware of the action. His expression made it clear he was more focused on watching Scott to see what he would do next.

So that’s where they were – Edgar Gallows and Scott Skylark Kaufner, alone together in Bluerose, Oregon. Where they were once strangers in a dirty walk-in, Scott now had Edgar in his underwear and sitting patiently on his lap. A few curls fell slightly in front of his lover’s face. The afternoon light that shone through the dirty window seemed to bathe him in fog.

By this point Edgar did not appear to realize that he was mostly nude and in what some would consider a compromising position. Scott felt laughter rising in his chest like a warm new tide, and soon it overflowed. He closed his eyes and threw an arm over his face to giggle happily.

In the darkness he heard Edgar speak. “Scott?” He said his name again, now also close to laughter. “Skylark, what? Am I – did I do this wrong?”

“Do it wrong?” Scott laughed again. “Didn’t you say you’ve dated people before?”

“Sure,” Edgar said. “But – talking. There usually wasn’t this much talking, I – I couldn’t just ask.”

Scott gave him another look. He relished in the pleasure of seeing every slack line that made up Edgar’s body. Without the bulk of clothes it was clear just how at ease his lover was.

“Ask me,” Scott whispered.

“Ask you what?” Without waiting for an answer, Edgar created his own question. “Can I kiss you?”

The joy Scott felt then was so immense that it matched the scope of daylight in his bedroom. It wasn’t in him, it was around him – on the walls, across both of their bodies, just filling every speck of air in the space.

“Yes, please,” Scott said, his voice barely audible.

Edgar didn’t kiss him immediately. He got closer until he was almost fully laid across the middle of Scott’s chest. The pressure of his body felt like the security of being deep underwater. Scott wanted to close his eyes and truly soak in the feeling, but his attention was fully captured the moment Edgar touched his finger to trace over his lips.

He outlined the bridge of Scott’s nose after that. Worked out the arch of each brow and shaped the curve of his cheeks. The touch was electric on its own – add to that Edgar’s satisfied smile and the air of idle contentment in his every motion, and Scott’s mind was left spinning.

It’s you, the touch seemed to say. It’s you and I’m happy it’s you.

Edgar touched his lips to Scott, hands meeting and fingers interlacing. Scott let go then and melted fully into the contact, into the kiss, into this magnificent person that tasted like black tea and still smelled like the same soap he used back in New Orleans. He felt Edgar sink further against him, and in response Scott broke their hands apart and outlined his fingers down his lover’s back.

This is your body, Scott tried to communicate with just the movement of your fingers. It is your earth and it wants you here so madly. I want you here so madly. You are my home, and your body is your home, and it does not need a gender for it to care for you unconditionally.

Scott felt heat and the dampness of moisture hitting his face. Edgar was crying. He realized it too and snickered wryly, pulling back from their embrace to wipe at his eyes.

“Jesus,” he said. “Sorry about that. What a mood killer.”

He could still feel the streaks on his cheeks and the side of his face where Edgar’s tears had met his skin. The dampness sparked static in the open air. Scott hoped Edgar wouldn’t notice. He prayed his lover wouldn’t move to wipe them away.

Scott was limp, sprawled out in bed and grinning at nothing.

“Can I tell you something else I want to do?” Edgar asked him, still uncertain – but markedly less so.

Anything. I love you. Talk to me forever. I will do anything you ask of me. You are so safe and good I will shift the orbit of the earth if it would ensure your security. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Good morning! My goal today is to write the most tender and physically intimate asexual smut of my goddamned life. I hope you have a good day. I love you.

[crankyfacedknitter]

I think I can make masks now?

I may be late on the bandwagon for making masks, but it’s been...a process. Three months ago I didn’t sew at all. I took two sewing classes (How To Use A Sewing Machine and Make An Apron, which was all straight lines, materials pre-cut, etc.) and picked up a few fat quarters of quilting cotton along with some remnants on a whim. A few days later, the lockdown was upon us. 

Two weeks later I ordered a sewing machine, the same one I’d used in the classes, so at least I knew how to work it. It arrived two weeks after that.

I watched videos about what made an effective mask, what shape to use, what were ideal materials, how to fit them, what wasn’t working. It became clear pretty quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to help our front-line workers. I couldn’t get elastic, cotton, interfacing, the plastic stuff to put in the middle that turned out to be unbreathable. I didn’t have fabric scissors or a ruler, only a retractable tape measure. My iron made noises like a disgruntled koala, and spat white stuff out with the steam. Bias tape, twill tape, shoelaces all sold out. I made some prototypes, held them together with hoodie strings. 

A friend posted a mask pattern she was using, being an experienced sewer, along with material guidelines (thanks to her degree in the subject). It took me two weeks to decipher that it wasn’t any different from what I’d heard before, there were just charts and maths reinforcing the decision to use two layers of higher-density (quilting) cotton, plus at least one layer of cotton flannel for moisture absorption between them, for civilian usage, not medical. There were four sizes, which seemed reasonable. They didn’t really fit. I didn’t know what alterations to make.

I learned how to make bias tape, using larger pieces of fabric. I pulled out top sheets from the linen closet that no longer had a fitted sheet to go with them, and used it for bias tape and more mask attempts. They were lumpy, and even with wire for the nose let too much breath out to fog the glasses. I got frustrated. 

A week later, I decided to try to work on my basic sewing skills. Surely that was the problem, right? I made a project bag with a zipper and box corners. I learned that a zipper foot would have made that easier. I made a Japanese-style knot bag and learned that sewing patterns can have basic construction mistakes the same as knitting patterns. My printer made the pattern pages different sizes, but only slightly. (Still haven’t found a solution for that.) I helped my youngest make the same pincushion pillow and fabric boxes that I had made. I sewed an altar cloth, and a pincushion-and-thread-catcher to hang off the side of the table for all the loose threads that just accumulate when you sew. They weren’t perfect, but they were better.

I bought a new iron, and a folding mat to put on the table so I didn’t have to set up a whole ironing board in another room. I got a pair of good scissors, and a magnetic pin dish (HIGHLY REC). I bought new thread, not relying on the stuff in my repair kit that had been there for years. Good thread, still plain white and black (they were running out of that too, online). I made bias tape, burnt the shit out of my fingers, and ordered a bias tape making kit so that process wouldn’t have so much swearing or sweating involved. (It’s been two months. It will be here soon.)

I found a different mask pattern. Someone took the Olsen pattern and made the nose cuts deeper, the chin longer but curved, the sides more swooped. They made it in 7 sizes. Surely one of these would be big enough for my fat face! I made the largest size. It was like going to the store as a kid, with your mom, and sticking your little face into the biggest bra cup you could find. Okay, scaling down. Make the next size down.

 It was still taking forever. I was still making stupid mistakes, like sewing it wrong-sides together, or putting the nose wire pocket on the chin, or cutting out two pieces and one was backwards, so to fit its mate, one of them was wrong-side out. Cut two inner linings. Cut two flannels. Cut two outer pieces. Cut a bias strip for the nose piece, fold in half and sew the short sides shut. Cut four lengths of homemade bias tape, and sew them down on one short side and one long side. Ironing between every assembly step. I could get through about one mask, maybe the cutting-out of a second, before my brain and body shut down, overloaded. I had to take a week or more off of sewing in between sessions, because it took too much energy. I was also helping two kids work remotely, and figuring out how to cook every meal like I was living in the country again, only without the extra chest freezer for resources. It was...a lot. It continues to be a lot.

I labeled the sizes so I could keep them straight, other than the basic measurements they were labeled as. It worked out as XXXS, XXS, S, M, L, XL, XXL. By the time I got down to working on the M, I realized that what I should do is cut out all the pieces at once, not include the flannel or interfacing, and just make some basic fit prototypes. By now I’d gotten a single roll of poly-cotton twill, so I didn’t have to use the bulky homemade bias tape for ties, and that helped, too. Just cut out the paper patterns all at once. Iron all the fabrics. Mark out the patterns on the fabric, all at once. Cut them piece by piece, all at once. Measure out the ties and melt the edges shut, all at once, and so on.

I got through the last four masks in two days doing that. They fit better, and it seems on this pattern, I’m a S/M, my kids are S/M and XS/S, and my husband still thinks he needs the biggest size. I think he’s a L. 

I got a rotary cutter (we already had a self-healing cutting mat, although small) and some more quilting cotton once our state opened up on Monday (don’t get me started). I’m still using the sheets, as they’re actually soft and dense and a neutral color, and good for linings. I ditched the fiddly tailor’s chalk and got out a sharpie. I folded the sheet so I only had to cut once for both sides. I actually pre-washed all my fabrics, which I hadn’t done before, and was startled by how much they shrank. Makes sense with what happened to the fit prototypes after washing. 

I’m learning how to make this easier on myself. I think I’m getting better at it.

Time to iron, and mark out XS, S, M and L patterns. I’m just going to do a bunch, and keep them in piles according to sizes. I don’t know what I’m going to do with them all yet, but it looks like we’re in this thing for the long haul. I think I’m finally ready to help.

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Daddys pretty slut

Remus just hits different amirite girls and boys and gays and theys

We love us an unbothered Daddy Remus

Warning: 18+, very smutty

Have fun!

“I’m sick of your tantrums, get over here.” Remus grits out. 

You were bored and decided to touch yourself a bit, whilst the boys were out, doing Merlin knows what. And just as you were about to cum, Remus came burstig through the door.

“Thought I wouldn’t know, hm? You’re really smart, pretty, not even bothering to hide your scent from your werewolf boyfriend.” He is mocking you and frankly you deserve it.

You wanted to slap yourself. Remus had told you so many times just how easy it was for him to distinguish not only your scent in a large crowd, but determine your emotions as well. And right now, you are soaked and needy. 

Your voice came out meek when you tried to beg for forgiveness. “Daddy I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to!”

Remus closed and charmed the door, walking over to you in heavy strides. “You should be thankful I didn’t tell the boys what is going on or this conversation would be very different. You know how they get.”

That did something to you. Sirius would have bend you over already, calling you every possible name in the book. James would probably fuck your face so hard you’d have trouble talking afterwards. They would give you the exact opposite of what you crave.

But Remus approached these situations differently, because he gave you precisely what you want and more. You want to cum? He’ll give you ten more. You want his cock in your mouth? He’ll have you suck for hours on end. You wanted him to stop? He wouldn’t touch you for days, until you were delirious with desperation. You have to be very careful what you wish for, but it actually doesn’t matter, because you lose either way.

Remus took off James’ burrowed flannel, looking at you with a thoughtful expression. You could see the clogs in his head turning and he sat down on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. 

He sighes, as if bored and you’d really think he was, if you wouldn’t have seen the slight glint of spitefullness in his eyes. He wants, no needs to punish you. He is livid, anger nearly boiling over, but he didn‘t let it show. He knows how antsy you get when he slips into the role of the calm dom.

You felt vulnerable sitting with your naked body against his fully clothed chest, tucking your head under his chin. 

“I thought we fucked the bratiness out of you already. How long has it been since we touched you? Seven hours and you’re already leaking like a pathetic whore?”

You whine quietly as his fingers harshly brush through your cunt, pinching your clit. “M’sorry Daddy.”

He kisses the back of your head, two fingers pushing inside, thumb against your clit. “You will be.”

Remus spreads his legs, automatically opens yours as well and wraps one arm tightly under your breast. His right hand keeps fucking you in a lazy rhythm, taking his time. He might not tell you that for the sake of scaring you, but this was his way of making sure that you were warmed up, ready to take whatever he gave.

You are panting already, pushing back. His long, thick fingers feel so full inside of your soaking pussy, rough pad of his thumb rubbing deliciously against your clit in soft strokes.

„M‘gonna give you so many cummies, baby, that you won‘t want to cum for a week,“ he spoke, lips brushing against the side of your temple. You knew better than to answer, and tried to kiss him but he pulled back.

„No, you don‘t get kisses. Sluts don‘t kiss their Daddys on the lips. Eyes on my hands, slut.“

You turn your head again, tearing up slightly of being denied your kiss.

„Daddy please, wanna kiss you so bad“, you whine, pussy clenching when he picked up his pace.

„Kiss my cock later, you don‘t get to have my lips. You don‘t fucking deserve it, slut. Why are you crying, hm? Ohh, you gonna cum aren‘t you. Fucking slut, you like this? Want Daddy to treat you like a fucking whore?“

„Yes! Yesyesyes m‘your whore, please wanna cum!“, you mewl, eyes rolling back.

„Daddydaddy m‘gonna cum, ple- ah fuckk“, Remus hand is fucking you so fast your chest is heaving with the effort to take the pleasure.

„Head back, open your mouth“, he commands. You comply instantly, letting him spit in your mouth, sucking bruises on your jaw.

Seeing him treating you so carelessly, spitting on your face and fucking you while he sat there, completely unbothered and calm, did it for you and you came hard. Your screams muffled by his hand on your mouth, his hand so big it covers your entire jaw.

„Pathetic whore, keep your voice down. S‘not not like anybody will come to help you out. Should be grateful that I‘m being so merciful.“

He kept fucking you for what felt like hours, and your already reached your sixth orgasm of the night.

„C‘mon babygirl, one more for your Daddy? One more for me baby, please?“, he cooed at you, lips smearing gently against your sweaty brow.

„Hurts, Daddy, don‘t wanna“, you babbled, so fucking tired. „Everything hurts Daddy.“

„Mm poor baby...How convenient that I don‘t give a fuck what you want, hm? You give me one more and I won‘t tell the boys anything.“

„Yes Daddy, everything for you. You forgive me Daddy right? Not mad anymore?“

Remus pushed his fingers back inside, gliding in easily, not giving you an answer.

„Daddy please, don‘t be mad, m‘your good girl. Fuck Da-“

He chuckles darkly, speeding up and curles his fingers harshly. Leaning down he bites your shoulder hard, squeezing you in his arms as you cry out, cumming on his fingers for the seventh time.

You are slipping in and out of subspace, babbling nonsense, nosing at his soft neck, stubble scratching your flushes cheeks.

„Hi Daddyyy“, you giggle between kisses, „Gonna fuck me now?“

„ Hi baby“, Remus croons, pressing his lips on yours, muttering against your lips. „M‘not Daddy anymore, baby. I forgive you, come back f‘me hm?“

His tone soft as he cuddles you, kissing all over your face, taking your shirt to clean up the mess you made with your cum.

„Ow, hurts, Daddy, Remus“, you tried to close your legs, but he spread them again, overpowering you without trying.

„Shh, be good, gotta clean you up before the boys get back.“

Finally letting go he let you pass out, tidying the room, before he slid in next to you, falling asleep just as fast.

He‘ll let this be your dirty little secret for now. You were his baby first anyway.

[basicallywhiterice]

countdown (na jaemin)

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: fluff. friends to lovers, college!au

summary: The three times you should have made a move, the two times you tried to, and the one time you didn’t need to.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cussing

a/n: alternatively titled “haechan being both the best and worst wingman to grace the face of the earth”

i. Three times you should have made a move.

“Hey! Jaemin! Over here,” Haechan shouts, waving at a boy clad in an oversized flannel across the dining hall. He turns, lighting up when he waves back, and all but runs over from the dish drop-off section.

“He’s my roommate,” Haechan introduces once Jaemin is in earshot. “Jaemin, this is y/n. Y/n, Jaemin,” Haechan introduces.

He’s cute, you notice immediately, his floppy hair swept to the side messily. Almost as quickly, you dispel the thought and do your best not to stare, extending a hand for him to shake on instinct. “Nice to meet you, Jaemin. So you’re the roommate who keeps losing his AirPods?”

In the second your hand hangs there, empty, you have enough time to go through all five stages of grief. You blundered in front of Haechan’s unfairly attractive roommate you’ll no doubt see again, about his AirPods? You prepare to draw your hand back and smooth it over your hair to relieve the awkwardness of rejected handshake.

Then Jaemin shakes your hand, eyes crinkling up as he beams. If you thought he was cute before, you’re a goner once his smile is directed at you. “Nice to meet you too, y/n. And yeah, that’s me. Were you the one who convinced him to get me the glow-in-the-dark Among Us case? That was honestly the best housewarming gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Hey, that was all his idea. Besides convincing him to spend an extra dollar on the glow-in-the-dark, I played no part in it.”

“I’m sure. In any case, you have excellent taste. Thank you for picking it out.” He turns to converse with Haechan, but you don’t hear the rest of what he says over the sound of you putting your foot in your mouth.

As soon as he walks away, you collapse into a heap of regret on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me your new roommate was hot before we got the gag gift?” you groan. “God, how am I supposed to flirt with him after that?”

“You just met the guy, relax,” Haechan reassures, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Stop overreacting,” he mumbles around a mouthful of his BLT.

You raise your head to glare at him for being your voice of reason, and he wiggles his eyebrows.

“You like him already, huh? Don’t worry, he actually thought the case was funny. You’re fine.”

You bury your face in your hands in lieu of responding.

Jaemin is in your Algorithms class, you come to learn, likes useless trinkets more than you do, and vehemently opposes your dislike of coffee.

“Just try it,” he coaxes when he orders his second americano in an hour. “Haechan likes it, and you trust him, right?”

“With my life,” you deadpan as you both glance across the library to observe his attempts to flirt with the junior making his Starbucks order. He drops his straw when he gestures with his right hand, and you both snicker when he bends down to pick it up. “Actually, I think I’ll pass.”

Jaemin shrugs, taking a short sip from his cup before wincing and fanning his tongue. “Maybe you’re right. Anyways, which block did you want me to read?”

You show him, making edits as he comments on your code, and thank him once the block is fixed.

“No problem,” he grins. “Let me know if anything else is confusing. I’m happy to help.”

Just as you open your mouth to start the ritual of asking for his number, Haechan interrupts. “I got their number,” he announces, setting his phone down firmly between you and Jaemin and holding out his hands for a high five.

You sigh and half-heartedly slap his right hand despite your annoyance. At least one of you can be lucky in love, even if it comes at the expense of the other person.

“What’s the most common fear you have?” you ask Jaemin, tracing the outline of a cloud against the pale blue sky with your finger.

“What do you mean?” he asks, turning to lie on his side. You drop your hand to rest on his beige blanket and meet his questioning glance.

“Like spiders, public speaking, dying single… what’re your fears that are common?”

He squints as a strong gust of wind blows his hair into his face. “I think you’re overexaggerating how common the intense fear of dying single is.”

“Why?” you ask, not entirely sure why you’re pressing him about this. “Are you not afraid of it?”

“Hm, I guess I’m a lot more scared of dying alone than dying single. What are your thoughts?”

A fleeting semblance of a pickup line involving the two of you and not being single surfaces in your brain, but it never reaches coherence. Instead, you respond, “Heights, probably.”

And rejection, you sadly add in your head. Definitely rejection.

ii. Two times you tried to make a move.

“Hey, did I spell this right?”

When you lean over to read Jaemin’s meticulously written flashcard, your knee bumps into his. He mumbles an apology but makes no move to shift his leg. You stay like that, reviewing your notes for your last midterm together, until Haechan opens the door to his dorm and you scoot to different places on the couch.

“Hey Jaemin!” Haechan calls when he’s halfway in the bathroom. “Don’t forget about the trash,” he reminds, closing the door.

“Oh shit, one sec!” Jaemin hollers back. You wince at the volume, and he sheepishly turns toward you. “Sorry. Gotta take out the trash once he’s done,” he gestures, hand sweeping outwards before he knocks a couch pillow over.

Before he can fix it, you blurt, “Take me out while you’re at it too,” without missing a beat.

He doesn’t have time to react before you start laughing it off awkwardly. You don’t want to—damn it, why can’t you just be direct—but the fear of rejection overrides your confidence.

“Funny, right? Because of how ‘take out’ has different meanings? I’m hilarious, I know.”

He stares at you for a second too long before letting out a delayed chuckle. Haechan spares you the awkwardness of hearing his reply when he exits the bathroom and sits down between both of you, though, and Jaemin leaves with the trash soon after.

“Nice save, Casanova,” Haechan grins as soon as Jaemin steps out, reclining back into the couch. His Cheshire-Cat-esque smirk only grows when you reach over to smack him with the knocked-over pillow. “Wanna get take out once he gets back?”

You throw the pillow in his face this time. “I’m never coming back here again.”

You find yourself waiting outside their dorm exactly twelve days later when your code won’t run after two hours of debugging and neither of them will answer your texts.

“Asshole,” you shoot at Haechan when he opens the door. “Please help me.”

“Tough luck. I’ve got a date tonight,” he says, smug.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you pick a better outfit than that,” you critique, glancing at his plain button-up shirt.

“Chill, I haven’t layered anything yet. And Jaemin picked it out, so good luck convincing him to help you debug. And getting a date with him. Coward.”

“You say that like you didn’t interrupt us the first time I was trying to get his number,” you whisper.

“And you act like you would’ve met him without me.”

“Touché.”

“Who’s getting a date with me?” Jaemin calls from his desk, pushing up his glasses and frowning at his computer.

“Me,” you call back, and he glances up, eyes widening when he sees it’s you. Ignoring Haechan’s impressed “damn,” you walk over to the chair next to Jaemin. “I’ll help you debug if you help me?”

“You want me to—help you debug? No way,” he says, and for a moment, you regret your boldness. “How’d you know I was dying over coding too?” he continues, and your worries disappear.

“Just a hunch,” you shrug. Haechan leaves when the two of you are hunched over your laptops, elbows brushing gently enough to make it look like an accident.

iii. One time you didn’t need to make a move.

“Y/n?”

You look up, halting your check of Jaemin’s backpack to make sure he hasn’t forgotten his AirPods again. “Yeah?”

His ears are tinged with pink and he can’t quite meet your eyes, but he looks like he’s trying his best to do so anyways. “Would… you… like to go out with me on Thursday? Maybe for dinner if you have time?”

You blink, holding your breath for three seconds just in case you misheard or he’s joking. Neither seems to be the case. “On a date?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes, a date.” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. You smile, and he stops.

Silently, you count down from three before answering to avoid blurting out your answer, but it comes out with the same level of enthusiasm nonetheless.

“I’d love to.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

First Date

Summary: The reader accidentally sends an angry email off to a co-worker but winds up with a date instead...

Pairing: Landscaper!Dean x reader

Square: First Date

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​​​ . Enjoy!

_______

You yawned as you trotted out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand down to your home office. You plopped down in your chair and got on your computer, checking your email with a tired hum. You saw an email from the facilities manager and sighed.

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m work from home now, jackass. Refund my parking pass. That was like five hundred bucks.”

You growled and typed out an angry email in response, getting so fed up when you finished you knocked your coffee all over your computer.

“Shit!” you said, grabbing some tissues and moping it up.

You saw a sent message appear on screen and you shook your head.

“No. No. No, I didn’t send that. Recall, recall,” you said, shoving the tissues aside. It’d already been opened though and the recall failed, your jaw dropping. “No! I just moved into this house! I can’t afford to get fired.”

You grabbed your phone and decided to bite the bullet, trying to dial the guy when you got an email back.

As highlighted in my original message below, your refund will show up next month along with all other refunds to staff now working from home.

You hit reply and started writing an apology, praying he didn’t report you to HR.

I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I wrote it to express my frustrations and had no intentions of ever sending it. I’m deeply embarrassed, Mr. Winchester, and apologize once again.

You bit your bottom lip and waited a minute, getting a response back.

Thank you for your apology, Ms. Y/L/N. Seeing as today is my last day and it was a mistake, I see no reason to pursue this further.

“Ah, thank you, thank you,” you said. “Now let’s deal with this coffee.”

Two Weeks Later

“So what’s the damage?” you asked. The man in the flannel and baseball cap wrote up a tally on his clipboard before looking back at the house and yard again.

“Normally, for total lawn maintenance, that includes your weeding, trimming, spring and fall clean up, etc. for a lawn this large, you’re looking at around eighty a week,” he said. “But we’re trying to break into this neighborhood so let’s call it fifty a week. We get ten yards around here, we’ll knock it down to forty. How’s that sound?”

“Fifty for everything?” you asked. “Including the snow removal?”

“We’ll negotiate a separate contract for that but I’d call that about 350 for that season,” he said. “So. We have a deal?”

“For fifty bucks, you got a deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Perfect. I will have a contract written up and sent over to you this evening,” he said. He dug around into his back pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Super Natural Lawn Services,” you said. “Winchester.”

“Hm?” he said, writing something down on his clipboard.

“Name sounds familiar is all,” you said.

“Used to be in charge of managing the grounds at a local place until they decided to have their staff work from home. Ms. Y/L/N,” he said with a smirk. 

“Oh my…” you said, Dean chuckling. “I am so-”

“I like running my own business a lot better,” he said. “Besides, you apologized. We’re all good. We’ll get that contract straightened out and I’ll get a team over Friday morning to start on your landscape design.”

“I really am sorry, Mr. Winchester. I-”

“Y/N. It’s good. I promise. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded and he headed back to his car, giving you a wave as he drove off.

Two Weeks Later

“Hey, Dean?” you called from your front porch. He poked his head up from where he was head first in a notebook, staring at the dirt edge around your house. “You want a drink? It’s really hot out.”

“I’m okay,” he said, sweating pouring off of him.

“You want to come into the air conditioning for a minute?” you asked. He was about to say no when he took off his hat and his hair was soaked with sweat. “Come on.”

“Alright. Just for a minute,” he said. He hopped up onto the porch and stepped into your foyer, letting out a sigh. “Okay, that’s nice.”

“You like lemonade?”

“Sure,” he said. He took off his boots and followed you to your kitchen, taking a seat at the table when you waved him down. You brought over a large glass, Dean gulping it down. “Do you have a minute? Now that your lawn is in good shape, I have a few ideas for landscaping near the house if I could pick your brain.”

“Sure,” you said. He flipped open his notebook and showed you a drawing, your eyes wide. “You drew that? It’s great.”

“Do you like that kind of style? It’s minimal upkeep but it’s not barren out there this way,” he said.

“I love it. How much does that cost?” you asked.

“It’s part of your weekly bill. I have a few other ideas in here you can take a look at and tell me which you like best,” he said. You flipped through the notebook with him, still liking the first one the most. “Alright. We’ll get that going for you then.”

“My neighbor was asking about you the other day. I gave her your name,” you said.

“Fingers crossed we get a bit more business around here then,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the drink, Y/N.”

One Month Later

You hummed as you sat on your front porch with your morning coffee, watching Dean across the street and walk around a yard with his team. They’d already done your yard for the week and you knew Dean was up to about six or so houses in the development. With a big stretch you glanced over to your car and saw something on the windshield. You got up and walked over, plucking off a note.

Found a problem with one of your plants. Rabbits were eating it. I’ll replace it later today.

You looked across the street just as he looked over. You gave a wave and he returned it before you headed back inside.

Four hours later you were getting home from the store to find another note stuck up against your front door.

Plant should be all good now. Enjoy your weekend.

“Hey,” you heard behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry.”

“Hi, Dean,” you said. “S’alright. I got your note.”

“It was a simple fix,” he said. “I actually am looking for my work gloves. I either left them at your place or the Jones’ but I didn’t find them over there.”

“Are they black?” you asked.

“Yeah. You find them?” he asked. 

“Maybe they’re near my new plant,” you said, nodding your head. He looked over and they were on the grass beside it.

“Ah. That’s what I get for taking calls while working,” he said. He grabbed them and started to leave, pausing at the driveway. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You single?”

“Why?”

“Cause if you’re dating someone, I don’t think my odds of getting a date will go very far,” he said as he spun around. You smiled and leaned against the porch post. “Single?”

“Why would you want to date me? I was very rude to you once.”

“You were pissed about throwing money away for no good reason. Trust me, I got plenty of emails that day. You’re the only one that apologized. Plus you may have once told the grumpy guy in the cafeteria to go do a job that makes him happy.”

“You knew who I was when I emailed you, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. I looked you up at work. You were nice back then. You always offer my crew cold water if you’re home. I just like you,” he said.

“Pick me up at seven,” you said as you spun around. “You decide what we’re doing.”

“Alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise a dress and heels.”

“Now I’m intrigued. I’ll see you later then, Dean.”

“Yes you will, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” said Dean when you opened your front door just before seven. You laughed when he held out a packet of flower seeds. “They’ll go great in a planter on the porch.”

“Thanks,” you said. You put the packet inside and locked up, following him to his car. “So what are we doing?”

“I figured we could do something and grab a bite after if that’s okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “Were you thinking of a movie?”

“Hopefully it’s more fun than a movie,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Okay, that is the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date,” you said, Dean chuckling as you both turned in your helmets. “I did not even know there was go-karting in this town. Like really nice go-karting too.”

“We could come back sometime,” he said. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Same,” you said. 

“Well follow me then,” he said, walking past his car in the parking lot and headed for the street. He took your hand and you walked across over to a diner, Dean walking the two of you inside and to a booth by the corner.

Twelve minutes later you had a double bacon cheeseburger with jalapenos in front of you along with a basket of fries and onion rings. You dug in, Dean smiling to himself as he enjoyed his own burger.

“Too much?” you said.

“Save room for dessert. They have out of this world sundaes,” he said.

“If it’s as good as this burger, I’m sold,” you said. “So what made you want to have a landscaping business?”

“I get to be outside, do some hard work but some mental work too. We’re doing pretty good for our first year,” he said. “I didn’t like my old job very much.”

“It sounds like this one is working out for you.”

“It is. Probably would have taken me longer to ask you out if I hadn’t sort of known you already but I don’t mind,” he said, taking one of your fries.

“You flirt with all your customers or just me?”

“Just you,” he said. “How’s it working out so far?”

“Pretty good. Want to go catch the music fest downtown after our meal? Main act comes on at nine,” you said. “Unless you’re not into rock.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You and me are gonna get along just fine.”

_____

[libra-kirishima]

Three Times All Might Kept Izuku From Losing His Virginity and the One Time He Didn't (Midoriya Izuku x Reader)

Day 13: Corruption/Loss of Virginity

(Hell of a title...)

Reader is All Might's daughter.

This was also originally just the ns/fw scene which I wanted to add more to.

NS/FW Content Warning (loss of virginity, a bit of femdom)

I.

The sound of the doorbell ringing caused your heart to leap out of your chest.

Panic set in as you wrapped your wet body in a towel before rushing down the stairs to the front door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” You shouted as you made your way down the stairs, through the living room, and into the foyer. “Did you forget your keys again?- Oh.” Your eyes were met not with your father, but Izuku. Green eyes looked your form up and down quickly. Soon after, a fiery blush spread across his face and down his neck. “Hey, Izuku.”

“Hi, (Y/N).” His eyes shifted to keep from staring at you. “I’m, um, here to see All Might.”

“Dad’s not here right now.” Tension formed in Izuku’s shoulders once those words left your lips. He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or grateful. “He’s still at the school, I think. Although he did mention swinging by the store to pick up groceries on his way home, so he could be closer than you think.” Your words sort of fell on deaf ears. Izuku was so consumed by his thoughts of you that he caught maybe every third or fourth word you said. “Come in. Please. Make yourself at home.” You stepped aside to let him in.

“Oh, I shouldn’t.” He answered, though it came out as more of a mumble. He tried and failed to conceal how excited and nervous it made him to think about being alone with you. When you grabbed his hand to lead him inside he gladly went along, lacing his fingers into yours as you pulled him along.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He won’t mind, and neither do I. Have a seat.”

He timidly sat down at the far end of your couch. You smiled kindly at him as you stood in front of him, moving directly between his open knees. Izuku swore up and down that you were trying to kill him. “Besides, I hardly get to see you anymore. You’ve been so busy.” You cupped his burning cheeks in both your hands. It took all of his strength just to look you in the eye. “I’ve been so lonely. I miss seeing you all the time.” You cooed. “I’ll be back. M’kay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You dashed back up the stairs to change, leaving Izuku alone with his thoughts.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.” He mumbled to himself. “This is not how you should think of your mentor’s daughter!” No matter how hard he tried to push his thoughts of you out of his head, your words still rang like a bell.

I’ve been so lonely. I miss seeing you.

He could still feel the cool touch of your hands on his flushed cheeks. Part of him wondered if things could be different  were you not All Might’s daughter. If you were any other girl, he wonders if he could hold you in his arms at night, knowing that he could call you his own. Feeling the love in your eyes and knowing that he was the only man you felt that way about. 

“Stop thinking about it!”

“Stop thinking about what, Izuku?”

“Nothing!”

You shot him a confused look, but shrugged and left it at that.

“Alright.” You moved back towards him, taking a seat right beside him.  You knew he was trying to keep his distance from you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “See any good movies lately?”

He shook his head hurriedly. You shrugged your shoulders again and resumed watching a docuseries about sea creatures. It was this time while you were distracted that Izuku allowed himself to look at you.

He swears you were trying to kill him. You wore nothing but a bra and pajama shorts, with a flannel loosely hanging off your shoulders covering you barely at all. Arguably less covered than you were in that towel.

You turned back and met his stare with a wide smile. The embarrassment on his face filled you with an odd sense of pride. When he looked away in shame, you smirked.

“Get comfortable.” You encouraged, curling yourself into his side. “You seem so stiff.” One hand reached across his chest to to rub his shoulders. “Think of this place as your house too.” The hand on his shoulder slid up his neck to his cup his jaw again. He leaned into your touch when you used your thumb to stroke his still burning cheek. “My dad says you’re practically his son anyways.” You giggled.

Your laugh was the sweetest sound in the world to him. You were working some kind of magic on him that he couldn’t describe. He was staring again. Equal parts wonder and shame. The implications of his mentor thinking of him as a son while Izuku had fallen for his daugher loomed over him. He could push them aside for a while. “What’s wrong Izuku?” You followed the direction of his stare down to your breasts.

Oh...

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen boobs before.” You added with a small laugh.

“I- uh-”

You cut him off with a gasp. 

“You haven’t?”

He shook his head.

“No way!”

Unsure of what to say, he shook his head again.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe- don’t you live in a dorm full of girls?” You asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“It’s actually mostly boys. There are only six girls in my class.” He answered. He missed the root of your question, but you were too intrigued to care.

“I thought you and the little brown-haired girl were a thing.”

“That didn’t really work out.” He admitted shamefully.

“Oh?” You knew you were probing, but couldn’t help enjoying how flustered he got. “Why not?”

“Both of our feelings got... complicated. There was someone else. It kind of drove a wedge between us...”

“Hm...” Your full interest was on him. “Have you even made it to first base?”

Your tone wasn’t condescending or snarky. It was warm and inviting. Smooth like velvet with a charm that made him want to tell you everything without question.

“No.” He answered. Part of him wondered if he should have lied to impress you. He probably would have if he stopped speaking without thinking first. “Not because I don’t want to, I’m just-”

“Scared?”

He chose to respond with silence. You gave him a signature sweet smile.

Just where you wanted him.

“You don’t have to be scared with me, Izuku.” You cooed. “I’ll help you.” You shifted so your breasts pressed right up against his chest. “If you want...”

While his brain was still trying to process what you were offering him, you pushed yourself up to kiss him.

Quick. Chaste. A soft peck to serve as just enough to leave him craving more.

Izuku was stunned into silence, but his strong arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him. ”I- I’m- I, uh,” He stammered, desperately hoping that the logical part of his brain would return and remind him how wrong it was to form a relationship with his mentor’s daughter behind his back. How if he got caught, he might never be forgiven. He mumbled a weak “We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-”

“Izuku...” Your body moved to fully straddle his waist. Your other hand reached up to cup the other side of his jaw. “Kiss me.”

Rational part of his brain be damned. What All Might doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He reasoned with himself. It took no time at all for him to melt into the taste of your lips and the feel of your skin. The feeling of your hands in his hair made him regret not bending to your will immediately.

The hand in his hair tugged at the locks, evoking a whine from his lips and establishing yourself as the one in control. “Lay back.” You mumbled against his lips. He didn’t hesitate for a second to shift himself so he was laying horizontally on your couch while keeping you tight over his waist. One of your arms pulled one of his from around your waist and pinned it above his head, lacing his fingers in yours. An oddly tender gesture considering how determined you were to ravage him.

Just as he felt confident enough to slide his free hand from your waist down to your ass, you pulled away. Once you both heard the sound of keys jangling in the door from the foyer, you both scrambled apart and tried to look unassuming.

“Dad! Izuku is here!” You called before rushing off to help him with his groceries.

You turned back to Izuku and shot him a wink before leaving the room.

That familiar warmth rose to his cheeks again. A feeling he would quickly start to associate with you.

II.

The shadow of the Heights Alliance building loomed heavy over your head.

Before knocking on the door you took a deep breath and hoped he was home. 

You rapped your knuckles against the door, and after what felt like an eternity the door opened a crack. Three heads popped out from the small opening, one of which was a pretty girl with pink hair. 

Before you could speak a word, a voice called your name from behind. You turned your head towards the source, and your eyes were met with brilliant emerald green.

Izuku was sweaty and tired, clearly returning from training with a tall blue haired man in tow.

“Izuku!” You pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was looking for my dad and I got lost.” You lied.

“I think All Mi-” He stopped and shook his head, hoping to play off the panicked glare you gave him at the mention of who your father was. “I think all my teachers are in a meeting.” He corrected himself.

“Yes! Mr. Aizawa mentioned a staff meeting taking place this afternoon for the first year teachers.” The blue haired man added.

“Oh, what a pity.” You pouted softly. “I’m (Y/N), by the way. Apologies for not introducing myself sooner.”

“Iida Tenya. Pleasure to meet you. I take it your father works here?”

“He does, yes. He’s a first year teacher.” You answered with a kind smile and flirtatious eyes. Before your conversation could continue any further, you felt an arm pulling you to the side and the sound of Izuku’s voice mutter “You can come in if you’d like.” You waved goodbye to Izuku’s friend and followed him inside.

He spared you of introductions to his other classmates and pulled you up to his room. You had been there once before, when the walls were still bare and he had just moved in. The room was now undoubtedly his. Uniquely Izuku.

"Sorry, I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Mhm?" You smirked.

"What?"

"Are you sure?" You took a seat at the edge of his bed and giggled when he shot you a quizzical look. You patted the space beside you for him to sit, and he did. "I feel like that's not the whole story. What, with the way your eyes were burning into me while I talked to your friend and all." His expression turned anxious. The panic in his eyes vanished as soon as it came, hoping you wouldn't notice. "I think you were jealous."

"No, I- I'm not- I-" He stammered.

"So you are jealous!"

"I'm not jealous of Iida. He's my friend-"

"Seems a little bit like you are. Unless you brought me up here for another reason?"

"You're safer with me than anyone else in my class while you wait for All Might-"

"Because I'm in so much danger with a class of pro heroes in training..." You drawled.

Based on the way he clenched his fists into the comforter beneath him, Izuku was getting worked up in just the way you intended. Better put him out of his misery sooner rather than later.

Before he could speak another word, you reached over to press a kiss to his lips. Slow and sweet, but still entirely too short for Izuku's tastes. "I think you just wanted to get me alone again." His face flushed cherry red at your accusation, but made no move to deny it. You kissed him again. "Well I think we're alone now."

He was at a loss for words. Thoughts of you took over every corner of his mind and left him unable to form full sentences.

You placed a cool hand on his warm cheek and tilted his head to look you in the eye. "What are you waiting for? An invitation? Kiss me."

And he did.

A little uneasy at first, but you gladly took that as an invitation to take control again. Once again, you tugged at his hair to inform him who's in charge.

You slipped your tongue into his mouth, and he soon found himself addicted to the taste of your lips. It was obvious that he didn't know what to do with his hands. You moved to straddle his thighs, breaking the kiss to grab his hands in your own.

"(Y/N), I-"

"Shh..."

You moved his hands up to your clothed chest, resuming the kiss once you felt his hands root themselves there. "Don't be afraid, Zuzu." You assured him. "I don't bite... Unless you want me to."

"What does that mean?"

"Oh, my sweet innocent boy." You cooed, hands returning to cup his jaw. "You know, I'd love to show you, but... Can I be honest with you?"

He nodded frantically.

"Um... This is kind of weird but it feels like my dad is watching me corrupt his successor through these posters and I can feel his disappointment from the walls of your dorm..."

III.

Soft kisses trailed down the column of Izuku's throat until you stopped at his collarbone. His eyes opened in confusion until he felt you nip at the skin there, and soon after soothe the bite with your tongue. He wasn't sure what to make of the feeling until you did it again on the soft skin of his shoulder. When you bit at the meeting point between his neck and his shoulder, he let out a small moan.

"Is this what you meant by biting?" He asked curiously. You chuckled against his pulse.

"Mhm." You answered before tilting his head a bit further and sucking a dark bruise into the skin there. Your hands undid the last button of his uniform shirt and pulled it off his broad shoulders.

Once his shirt was off, your hands drifted lower and lower down his skin until they reached his belt buckle. His heart stopped beating in his chest when your cool hands passed his naval. "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm just-"

"Scared?" You asked. He gulped. You could feel his hands starting to sweat. "I told you, Zuzu, you don't have to be scared with me. Just sit back. Relax."

You pressed soft kisses to his lips as you undid his belt buckle and pulled his aching cock out of his pants. You pulled away to look at him while your hand started stroking up and down his length, using your thumb to smear the precum at the head.

The sight before you was addicting. Absolutely immaculate. You watched his innocence melt away with each stroke. The hungry look in his eyes told you that didn't know how to handle what he was feeling, but begged for more of it.

He felt himself on the brink of orgasm when you heard the front door open. All Might's voice called to you, announcing that he was home.

"Fuck."

Once again, you scrambled to put yourselves back together before you were caught. You kissed him sofly before calling "Hey! Izuku is here for you!" You took his hand and pulled him out of your bedroom, right as your father climbed up the stairs. "I wanted to show him the sad clown painting I bought at the thrift store."

Izuku would be concerned with how good you are at lying, if it wasn't something that worked in his favor.

I.

Ding-Dong

"I'll get it!" You called, racing down the stairs. Your dad answered the door first anyways. "Ugh."

"Young Midoriya!" You heard from the foyer. "I wasn't expecting to see you here-"

"Oh, he's not here for you, he's here for me." You added, stumbling into the room in your heels. "I'm his prom date."

"Oh."

"I told you about this."

"You didn't tell me Young Midoriya would be accompanying you."

"Must've slipped." You shrugged. "Sorry, daddy." You wrapped your arms around Izuku. Besides, isn't it better Izuku than another boy in his class?" You didn't give him the chance to answer before you were ushering Izuku out the door while muttering rushed goodbyes to your father. "Bye dad! I love you. I'll be back... Eventually."

Once you slipped out and shut the door, you shot Izuku a familiar look. He knew at the start of the night that you intended to ravage him. You quickly concealed the look with a kind smile and a bat of your lashes. The perfectly innocent girl everyone thought you to be.

"Let's go?"

"Yeah," Izuku sighed. "Let's go."

The train ride back to U.A. was agonizingly long. Your hand rested on his thigh, just high enough to make him nervous. He couldn't tell if he wanted you to stop or if he wanted more.

Despite the agonizing pace of the trip there, the dance itself seemed to pass him entirely. The last thing he remembered was taking pictures to send his mom before you kissed his lips and pulled him off to the side.

"Look at you, taking initiative, I'm so proud of you." You teased. Your shoe had snapped at the heel moments ago. Izuku lifted you up in response and carried you away from the dance, but where you weren't sure. That was until you recognized the area surrounding his dorm from the darkness. You looked back at his face and cupped his cheek, just as you had a thousand times before. He had to fight off his own urge to look you in the eye. If he met your gaze, he was sure his heart would stop. And he was too protective of you to drop you. Instead he holds you closer to his chest and asks you

"Did you plan this?"

"No." You giggled, burying your face into his neck. "Did you?"

"Not your shoe breaking." He admitted.

You kept yourself busy by pressing soft kisses to the skin of his neck. His blush was so rosy that you could see it even in the dark.

You caught the eye of the brown haired girl you thought was Izuku's crush, with her lips locked on those of a pretty girl in a suit that you recognized from the third year class.

"Oh, that's why things didn't work out."

"Part of it, but I'm not too upset about it anymore." He muttered, rushing you into the elevator and up to his room. "Besides, she helped me prepare. So I really owe her one."

"Prepare what?" You asked. He said nothing as he fumbled with the door to his dorm. He entered without turning the lights on and just stood there, holding you closely with your legs wrapped around his waist. "You can put me down now."

"Oh, sorry." He kissed your lips softly before releasing your thighs. You hit his mattress with a soft thud. Izuku stripped himself of his suit jacket, trying to hold himself back from looking your way. He knew you were watching. The innocent façade was long gone, leaving the girl Izuku has come to know in its place.

"Prepare what?" You asked again.

"Oh! I want to show you something." He moved frantically across his room before you could say anything, stumbling over a pair of his shoes on the way. He flicked the light switch on to reveal a setting completely different from what you were expecting. The walls were draped with dark fabric. Sheets, you presumed. Christmas lights were hung up around his room with push pins, casting a warm, dim glow in the room. He sat beside you on his bed as he spoke.

"I wanted you to feel comfortable." He admitted. When you met his eye you almost burst into tears. He watched you with all the love in the world. To Izuku, you held the stars in the sky. You were the reason the sun shines and the rain falls.

He loved you already and he'd show you every day until he was confident enough to tell you.

"Izuku..." You looked around at how pretty everything looked, amazed that he did this all for you. "Izuku, I-" You started, but you were completely at a loss for words.

"Too much?" He asked nervously.

"No! You didn't have to do this all for me." You swallowed your emotions and looked back at his nervous expression.

"I'm gonna ruin you." You told him in the sweetest softest voice he's ever heard. You moved to pounce on him, but he stopped you before you could take things any further.

"Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?"

"Oh..." You laughed softly and he stared to panic again. "I thought I was already your girlfriend." You admitted. "I was actually going to ask if you thought we should tell my dad about our relationship when you took me home." Izuku buried his face in his hands.

"Yeah we probably should."

You smiled softly as you undid the buttons of his shirt.

"You can go back to what you were doing now," He assured you. "Girlfriend."

"Good to hear." You said against the skin of his neck before leaving a purple bruise there. "Anyways, boyfriend," You tugged your dress off before fully straddling his waist. "I'm gonna ruin you."

[chrrispine]

inspired by @acklesy's post

Dean is placing a single pair of underwear into his duffle bag when he realizes I've never been to the beach before, or even on a vacation. Sure, he's been on a lifetime's worth of hunting trips, but this was different. He didn't need to pack flannels or an arsenal of weapons - or did he? He looked at his neatly packed bag that currently had shorts, a couple t-shirts, and his toiletries. "Hey, Cas? What are you packing?" Dean called across the room to Cas who was putting items into his own bag. "Well Dean, I packed a toothbrush of course since you told me we shouldn't share one anymore, those new swim shorts you bought me, and our toaster," Cas replied. "The toaster? Why are you packing a toaster?" Dean didn't think people packed appliances for vacation, but again, he wasn't so sure. "What if we get there and there's no toaster and we need to toast some bread," Cas reasoned. He had a point. "Alright, I guess we should probably be prepared for anything. I'll go grab a couple spell books and the coffee pot". Dean packed those items and a few more things he grabbed while walking around: a portable fan, some utensils, and a small lamp. Cas was sitting on his suitcase trying to get it closed. "I don't know Dean, maybe we shouldn't bring the waffle maker, it's not fitting". "Hm yeah we should be able to find waffles somewhere. Take it out then," Dean decided. Eventually, Dean and Cas packed the car with everything they needed, and a hell of a lot more, ready to embark on their honeymoon.

[glimmerglanger]

Snippet for Home (On the Range): I'm curious about any past relationships Cody and Ben have had, and so if you feel up to it, I'd love to watch them have the conversation about past loves that always has to happen eventually. :D

:D GOOD MORNING! I almost said this was the first of the follow-ups for "Home (On the Range)" but, in fact, there've been two already aha. This is the first one set AFTER the fic, though only by a week or so.

This is a (not that) little Codywan snippet. Established relationship and it got VERY SPICY. Grown-up conversations ensue.

~~~~

The temperatures had dipped well into chilly, at least overnight, when Cody suggested they head out deep into the ranch one evening. “You can see every star up there,” he said, pulling Ben into a kiss. “Thought it might be nice. And we’ll want to do it before it gets any colder.”

Ben wondered if the suggestion had anything to do with the astronomy lessons he’d been prepping for class, even as he hummed agreement. They piled blankets into the bed of Cody’s truck, along a sleeping bag and a few thermoses full of something warm.

It was dark by the time they pulled up onto the ridge of a hill, deep inside the borders of the ranch. Cody turned the lights off, nothing but the rumble of the engine breaking the stillness of the night, and said, “It’ll take a bit for our eyes to adjust. Half an hour, maybe.”

“Oh, really?” Ben said, hooking a finger into the collar of Cody’s shirt and pulling him over, murmuring, against his mouth, “whatever shall we do to fill the time?”

Cody huffed a laugh, mouth welcoming and warm, swearing briefly when Ben added, after a beat, “You know, I’m not sure there’s any way I can fit into your lap over there.”

Cody’s eyes caught the light of the stars outside, just a little, as he rasped back, “Good thing we’ve got the entire bed of the truck, then.” And he popped open his door, allowing in the cooler outside air, even as he turned off the truck.

The air felt nippy on Ben’s face as they climbed up into the bed of the truck, but it wasn’t so bad, really. They’d spread out the sleeping bag along the bed, keeping away the chill of the metal, and there were plenty of blankets.

And, well.

Kissing Cody always warmed him up, anyway. Ben thought about pulling his close, the stars as yet unseen stretching overhead and the hills rolling all around them, the Tetons watching, sentinels in the distance.

Cody swore when his phone buzzed, pulling it out of his pocket and taking a step away from the truck as Ben finished sorting the blankets, considering that he’d never had sex in the back of a truck before. It seemed a nice idea, making love out under the endless sky.

He grimaced when he recalled that he’d left his wallet back at the house, condoms along with it, though he’d slid a packet of lube into his front pocket. He frowned, swinging over the side of the truck to see if Cody had brought his wallet, plucking it from his pocket as he said, “--Rex, I swear to God, if you try to come out here right now--”

He winked when Cody looked over at him, waving the wallet, and listening to Rex laugh, his voice distant and distorted through the phone.

Ben left them to it, climbing back up into the truck, flipping Cody’s wallet open, pleased to find a familiar little foil square tucked inside. He drew it out, planning to set it aside for use in a bit, when they needed it, and frowned.

It felt...odd.

He tilted it around - noting the brand - and peered at it in the light provided by the moon and the stars. He blinked, grabbed his own phone, and turned it on to get enough light to read it properly, sure that he’d misread the expiration date, because--

“Something wrong?” Cody asked, the truck dipping slightly as he stepped up onto the bed, apparently done with Rex.

“Well,” Ben said, putting down his phone and turning the condom in his fingers. “Aside from the fact that this condom expired five years ago, not really.”

Cody paused, still standing, looking down at him. “Oh,” he said, as Ben turned the little packet again and then, on a whim, tore it open. He’d never actually seen one expire before.

“Hm,” he said, wrinkling his nose. Apparently, they were not one of the things that stayed good, even long, long after they expired. Any moisture had long since disappeared. The condom itself looked like a dessicated snake skin, or something like it. “I don’t think this’ll work,” he added. “Though we could try rehydrating it, I suppose, I--”

“Let’s not do experiments on the condom,” Cody said, taking it out of his fingers and tucking it into a pocket. “Should we go back to the house? Get another one?” He sank down, close by, and Ben considered it, but--

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to entertain ourselves,” he said, looped an arm around Cody’s shoulders, and pulled him close.

He’d gotten familiar with the best ways to take off Cody’s clothes, unbuttoning his flannel shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, tugging his undershirt out of his waistband. Cody pulled the blankets up around them, the warmth from his skin translating into Ben’s body as Ben shimmied out of his jeans, pulling his own shirt over his head.

The moonlight shone off of Cody’s skin, caught in the dark curls of his hair. Their breath steamed the air - the temperature had really plunged with the fall of night - but Ben didn’t feel cold, not as they tangled close together, trading kisses that set a fire in his veins, not with Cody putting off heat like a furnace, warm hands all over Ben’s skin.

And Ben had become rather fond of the idea of getting fucked under the stars, in the brief time he’d had to consider it. Just because it wasn’t going to happen the way he’d initially assumed didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen at all.

“Here,” he rasped, rolling onto his side, grabbing for the jeans and the lube in his pocket, pulling it out, “Here, like this, ah, Cody.”

Cody’s weight felt good against his back, warm and solid, Cody’s teeth scraping along the curve of his shoulder as he settled, taking the packet of lube from Ben’s fingers without any of the hesitation he’d displayed the first few times they were intimate with one another.

“Like this?” Cody rumbled, right against his shoulder, and Ben heard the wet movement of Cody slicking up his own cock, felt the smear of the rest of the lube over the back of his thighs and--

Exhaled, hard, when Cody ground against him, overheated flesh sliding together. Probably, they were making more of a mess than they should have done, out in the middle of some field, out in - in such an exposed place, but--

It was hard to care, with Cody sucking a kiss into his neck and grinding against him, panting out, “Spread your legs, just a little,” and when Ben listened, slotting his cock right between Ben’s thighs, rocking them together.

If there were anyone around, Ben hated to think what would have been overheard, the two of them swearing and gasping and groaning. He knew he cried out, loudly, when Cody slid a hand over his hip, gripping his cock and stroking him, so sure and so steady and--

Well.

The sleeping bag was going to need a wash when they got back home.

So was Ben, in all honesty.

He laughed, hoarsely, when Cody pulled away from him, leaving his inner thighs smeared with come. It was quite warm, at first, but Ben knew that wouldn’t last. “See,” he said, sprawling onto his side, thighs held apart, groping for something to wipe up with, “a condom would have prevented this mess.”

“Sorry about that,” Cody said, and then, “here, use my shirt.”

And then he used it himself, wiping up the mess all over Ben’s legs and cock. He even smeared away the mess on the sleeping bag, as best he could. Ben watched him - he was easier to see, Ben’s eyes must have adjusted, and said, “Why did you have an expired condom in your wallet, anyway?”

Cody balled his shirt up, the mess tucked away inside, and shrugged. He tossed it into one corner of the bed of the truck. “It’s just the one I’ve always had. I never really checked the date on it.”

Ben blinked, turning that over in his head, even as Cody settled close to him, naked under the blankets. Ben said, as Cody curled an arm around him. “The one you’ve always - you - what does that mean?”

Cody shrugged, stubble rasping against Ben’s shoulder, while Ben wondered if Cody had really avoided using a condom before, because that didn’t sound like him at all, and--

“I got it, ah, years ago. When I was - when I thought I might need it. But then I didn’t. I kept it, just in case. But…” He trailed off, shrugging again.

Ben blinked up at the clear, shining stars, and then rolled to face Cody, gut doing something strange. “Wait. Did you never--”

“I did stuff,” Cody said, still staring up at the stars. “A few times with, uh, with a guy I really liked. He competed, too. We were friends for a while. And then one day I just wanted to kiss him, so I did. And we, well. Fooled around, I guess. But then I beat him, pretty soundly, and he didn’t want to anymore.”

Ben blinked, processing that. He’d known that, sooner or later, they’d end up having a talk about their pasts. That kind of thing happened. “He didn’t want to anymore?” he asked, trying to get his mind around anyone not wanting Cody anymore, he was--

“Yeah, I guess.” Cody sighed, tucked his arm behind his head, and stared starward. “And I’d already bought the string of condoms, even though we’d only needed two. But then it was over, so. And I put one in my wallet.”

Ben watched his expression carefully. He didn’t seem upset. Just...relating the story. “And then you never used it,” Ben said, quietly.

“Never needed it,” Cody said, shrugging against the sleeping bag. “I’ve been busy since then. And didn’t have anyone I particularly wanted to use it with.”

“Oh,” Ben said, the cold air nipping at his exposed skin, but ever so warm under the blankets.

“What about you?” Cody asked, before he could wrangle another thought together. “Yours aren’t ever expired.”

“Ah, no,” Ben said, and then shrugged, settling against Cody’s side. “I’ve always been very careful to use them.” He felt his ears heat.

Cody hummed, curled an arm tighter around him, and said, “I know you’ve been with more people’n me, Ben. It doesn’t bother me. Hell, I’m glad one of us knows what we’re doing.”

Ben exhaled a little, snuggling in closer against the cold. It had, probably, been foolish to worry, to brace for disapproval. He traced patterns on Cody’s chest under the blanket and said, “I had no idea that you didn’t, ah, know what you were doing.”

Cody snorted, rolling onto his side, brushing a kiss to Ben’s cheek and then his mouth, fingers tracing down his spine. His expression, what Ben could see of it, looked a bit smug. “I learn fast,” he said, tone warm and low. “Especially when I get hands-on instruction.”

“I see that.” Ben crooked his mouth, brushing Cody’s hair back from his face. He figured, feeling soft and content, that if they were going to discuss their histories, he might as well finish it all, and went on, “I haven’t had many long relationships. Just...brief flings. A longer thing with a girl, right before I started college. And Luminara and I tried to make something work, once. But we’re much better friends than lovers.”

Cody nodded, said, “I never was very interested in girls.”

“Mm, I gathered.” He leaned in for another kiss, shivering when Cody brushed his callused fingers a little lower. He rasped, gut tightening, “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry,” Cody murmured, nipping his bottom lip. “And sorry we don’t have all the supplies we need.” Ben hummed, not overly concerned by the lack, not when they could trade sweet, lazy kisses, occasionally glancing at the stars, until Cody went on, “You know. We could - well. We’re together. Just the two of us.”

Ben turned away from his contemplation of a constellation he couldn’t name, nodding, and Cody went on, “We could get tested. I mean. I don’t think I could have caught anything, to be honest. And if I had, I think I’d have noticed in the last couple of years. And you’ve been careful, you said. But better to check. And then…”

He shrugged, and Ben considered it. He’d never slept with anyone skin on skin. Qui-Gon had been exceedingly clear about all the possible consequences of skipping out on protection. Even with Satine, young and giddy half the time, he’d always been careful.

But - he didn’t plan to share his bed with anyone else, he considered, staring across at Cody in the dark, under the brilliant light of the stars and the moon. He didn’t want to kiss anyone else. Or pull anyone else close in the night.

His heart ached in his chest, sweetly, and he said, “And then we wouldn’t need supplies to have sex in the back of your truck?”

“Mm,” Cody said, rolling closer to him, one elbow braced by his head, leaning down to kiss him, “Or to make love under the stars, either.”

Ben shivered, curled an arm around him, and felt his stomach swoop, imagining that, imagining them skin to skin everywhere. He said, his voice gone to a rasp, “That sounds very nice,” and Cody smiled against his mouth, kissing him again.

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Unfaithful | Part Three

Series Summary: After dreaming of your perfect wedding since you were a little girl the big day is almost here. But after meeting the priest you start to question your relationship.

Pairing: Hot Priest x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2828

Warnings: abusive behaviour, a lot of angsty stuff, drunken behaviour and a pinch of fluff

A/N: Please be warned there will be some themes of toxic/abusive relationship in this series. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Two | Masterlist

- - - - -

I sit alone on the bench outside the church, looking out at the empty graveyard in front of me. 

The miserable grey clouds above part and bright sunlight beams down to earth, shining on the Priest who is now walking up the path toward me. The light seems to be following him and as he moves closer I realise he’s dressed in a magnificent purple and gold gown. 

“Why are you wearing that?” I ask

“This is what I’m going to wear when I marry you” 

“Wow, I love it! Not sure Daniel will-”

“Who’s Daniel?” He asks and I laugh, but his serious face tells me he’s not joking.

“Daniel? My fiancé, the man I’m getting married to…”

“What are you talking about? You're marrying me remember?” He sits on the bench next to me, taking my hand and showing me the engagement ring on my finger, a ring I’ve never seen before.

“I- I don't understand. We’re engaged?”

“Are you feeling okay? Yes, we’re engaged and in a few weeks we’ll be husband and wife!” He holds my face gently in his hands and looks deeply into my eyes “I love you Y/N!”

He leans in and kisses me passionately.

— — — — 

My eyes shoot open and I realise I’m in bed. It was just a dream. Why do I feel slightly disappointed? 

Every night since that night at the church the Priest has been in my dreams, and every night the theme has been the same; the Priest and I are in love. 

I shake the thought out of my mind and roll over, reaching over to hug my real life fiancé but my arm falls straight down on the mattress. He isn’t there. 

I sit up and reach over to grab my phone off the bedside table. 9:30am! I must have needed that lie in. I roll out of bed, wrap my dressing gown around myself and head down stairs to the kitchen. I need coffee. 

Walking into the kitchen I find Daniel sat at the table waiting for me. 

“Morning!” I greet him cheerfully as I fill up the kettle “coffee?”

“No thanks.” He responds dismissively, changing the subject. “The other day, when I came home from the pub and you stormed out… where did you go?"

“I just went for a walk” I answer honestly

“Where?” 

“I don't know, I just wondered around for a bit and found a bench to sit on” 

“Alone?” 

“Yeah” I lie

“So you sat on a bench in the dark and drank all alone” He places an empty silver and green can on the table and looks at me accusingly, waiting for a response. 

“You went through my bag?” I silently curse myself for not throwing the can away yet.

“I was looking for something”

“What?”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” He slams his hand down on the can, crushing it against the table “You met him didn’t you? Father whatever his name is. I saw the same can of G&T in his office”

“Okay fine, yes I saw him. I didn’t plan to. I just went to the church to think. I thought it was empty but he was there and we talked for a bit”

“And drank”

“I was upset so he offered me a drink.”

“And then you lied to me about it” he says, getting up and slowly walking over to me.

“Because I knew you’d overreact!” I respond, poring the boiling water into my cup and stirring the coffee.

“Oh I’m overreacting am I? Tell me, how am I supposed to react when another man flirts with my fiancé in front of my face?”

“He hasn’t flirted with me Daniel, he’s our priest! He’s just trying to get to know us, but you won’t let him!” 

“I don’t want to get to know that creep!” 

“You know what? I can’t be bothered with this right now” I roll my eyes before saying three words I would instantly regret “You're being pathetic” 

I can almost see the red mist in Daniel’s eyes as he grabs my coffee cup and throws the boiling hot contents straight in my face. I suppress a scream as I wipe the coffee from my eyes, the liquid burning my skin. I run upstairs as fast as I can and lock myself in the bathroom, immediately  splashing cold water over myself. I soak a flannel in water and hold it over my face for a few minutes, trying to cool my burning skin. Daniel starts banging on the door, begging me to open up so he can apologise. When he starts to mention his dad I shut out the sound of his voice, choosing to ignore his excuses. I’ve heard them all before. 

When my skin finally starts to feel a little less on fire I remove the flannel and examine my blotchy red face in the mirror. A few small blisters have already started to form on my cheek and down the side of my neck. I bring my hand up to gently touch them, and hiss with pain as eyes instantly fill with tears. I cover my face with the flannel again and sit on the floor, leaning with my back against the door as Daniel continues to talk on the other side. I stay like that for however long it takes for him to finally leave me alone. Once I’m sure he’s gone I go silently to the bedroom, quickly get dressed and go downstairs. As I’m putting my shoes on Daniel comes running to me.

“Where are you going?” 

“To the hospital”

“No no, please- please don’t go. I’m sorry!” He panics.

“I need something to fix this” I argue, gesturing to the blisters and peeling skin.

“I can fix it!”

“Not this time” I walk out the house, slamming the door behind me. I hear it open again and I turn back to glare at Daniel as he’s about to step out. “Leave me alone!” I warn him before walking off, surprised that he actually obeys me for once. I hail a passing taxi and climb in the back. 

“A&E please” I say and he looks at me through the rear view mirror, his eyes widen as he sees the state I’m in but he doesn’t say anything. He just silently drives me where I need to go. 

— — — — 

“And how did this happen?” 

“I was carrying a cup of coffee when I slipped and fell, throwing the whole lot over myself.” I lie as convincingly as possible as the doctor examines my skin “I can be such a clutz sometimes”

I let out a small awkward laugh which the doctor ignores.

“Hm. Well you're lucky, there’s no permanent damage. It will be painful for a few days but it will heal. I’ll prescribe you some cream which will soothe it but in the mean time go home and take it easy. No more ‘accidents’ okay?” 

I can tell by her voice she doesn’t quite believe my story. 

“Thank you doctor” I say, taking the tube of cream off her and walking outside.

As I stand waiting for another taxi I realise, I’m not ready to face going home yet. There’s only one person I really want to see right now. 

— — — — 

Once again I find myself stood outside the big wooden doors of the church, suddenly doubting whether or not I should be here. I know I want to be here but I also know that if Daniel found out it would create yet another drama. I’m so trapped in my own moral dilemma that I don’t hear the footsteps approach behind me. 

“Y/N?”

I spin around to see the Priest walking toward me. His face goes from confusion, to horror as he sees my skin.

“Holy shit! What happened to your face?”

“I don't really wanna talk about it right now”

“Thats okay, you don't have to tell me anything” he smiles a gently smile and my heart flutters.

“I know it’s the middle of the day and you're my priest but… I don't suppose you have any more gin?”

“You’re in luck” his smile turns into a grin as he lifts up the bag in his hand and I hear the sound of cans clattering inside it.

— — — — 

A couple of hours and a few too many drinks later, the Priest and I are ever so slightly drunk and currently laughing about… well I don't actually know what. Everything just seems hilarious after a few cans of G&T. 

“You know, I think I’ve laughed more with you in the past week than I have in the past year with Daniel” I say, as he hands me another can “Maybe if you’d have been the Priest here when I was a teenager I wouldn’t have stopped coming. Teenage Y/N would have loved you. The old Priest just seemed so… judgy. I couldn’t think of anything worse than telling him my sins” 

“Hey that’s reminds me, you’ve never confessed to me! We should it now” 

“Oh no no no, absolutely not”

“Come on! It’ll be fun”

“Fun for you maybe, not for me! You just want to find out all my secrets”

“Of course I do, that’s why I do this job. That and so I can wear the outfits”

“You’re terrible” I laugh, shaking my head at him

“I know! That’s why you can tell me anything and I won’t judge you. I’ve probably done much worse” 

I get an idea. 

“Okay fine. I’ll confess to you. But you have to confess to me in return” 

“That’s not how this works”

“It is now! I’ll tell you my sins and you tell me yours”

“I’m a Priest, I don't sin”

“You're drunk in a church in the middle of the afternoon, pretty sure you're sinning right now”

“Good point” he thinks for a moment before getting up out his chair “okay, deal. Lets do this” 

I follow him out into the main church toward the confession box. He pulls open the curtain and gestures for me to enter. I do and he closes the curtain behind me before getting into the next box. I can just about see him through the holes in the wall. 

“You go first” I say quickly.

“Okay, um… I drink alcohol in my office on a regular basis”

“That’s a boring one!” I wine

“We’ll get to the good stuff eventually. Your turn”

“Fine. When I was 8 I stole a pencil topper from a bitchy girl in school because I liked it and I didn’t think she deserved it”

“A pencil topper? You criminal!” He laughs 

“It was shaped like Mickey Mouse!”

“How are you not in jail yet” he says sarcastically and I can hear the amusement in his voice “My turn. Sometimes when I hear Pam calling for me I hide in here and lie to her about where I am”

“I don't blame you, that woman scares me” 

“Right?! She’s terrifying!” 

We both burst into laughter, and as it dies down I realise it’s my turn again. I take a deep breath and speak again. 

“I lied to my Daniel about being with you the other night because I knew he’d get angry.” 

Without thinking my hand comes up to gently touch the burns on my face as my mind takes me back to the incident this morning. I snap out of it and turn to look at the wall. For a brief second I catch the Priest looking through the hole at me, but he turns to face the front. 

“I broke my vow of celibacy last year”

“I’ve been having inappropriate dreams about another man while laying in the same bed as my fiancé” 

“I’m in love with you” 

“What?” I say, trying to see him through the holes in the wall but he doesn’t look at me. He just stares down at the floor.

“I’m-” he pauses “I love you”

He finally looks up at me, the sudden eye contact almost takes my breath away. I don't know what to say, I’m completely lost for words. The intensity of his dark brown eyes is too much and I’m forced to look away, looking down as I fiddle nervously with the sleeves of my shirt. 

“Y/N?” 

I quickly get up and walk out of the booth, but he stays put. I stand for a moment looking at the curtain, wondering if he’s going to come out. When he doesn’t I realise its up to me to make a choice. 

I could tell the Priest how I feel about him. I could admit that I’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss him, to hold him, to wake up next to him.

Or I could leave right now and pretend none of this happened, go back home to Daniel. The man I’m engaged to marry. The man who I’ve loved since school. The man who, just this morning, threw boiling hot coffee in my face. 

I make a decision. 

I open the curtain to see the priest still sat on the tiny bench, and he looks up at me with wide eyes. He watches as I squeeze into the booth with him, placing my hands on either side of his face. He stands up slowly so our faces are inches apart and slowly moves in. 

“I love you too”

He looks into my eyes one last time before I close the gap, our lips crashing together. I keep expecting to wake up any second now, for this to just be another cruel emotionally confusing dream. 

But this is real. 

I’m kissing a priest. 

Part Four

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_domestic_violence_hotlines

[riddlegecko]

Prompt- Hannahs been wandering through the woods chatting with her tree friends and runs into perkys buds and now Emma and ziggs are dealing with this post child talking to trees

Or

What kind of conversations do these two have while high?

If you remember that one fic idea I proposed like a week ago- the one about Hannah's Nightmare Time journal, then this is kinda connected to that idea. It alludes to some ideas I have for that fic, though I'm still not sure if I'll ever write that whole thing. Also, dog. Enjoy!

Ziggs sat in a chair on the porch of Emma's farmhouse, watching as stars began to appear in the evening sky. That was one of the nice things about living out here, away from the city, the lack of light pollution to blot out the stars. Emma was inside, preparing veggie wraps from a recipe Ziggy had shown her for dinner. Crickets chirped, a gentle breeze shook the leaves of the Witchwood's sycamore trees, Emma's dog Velvet laid at Ziggs' feet. Yep. Another lovely night in paradise.

Shutting their eyes, Ziggs allowed the crisp evening air to wash over them, clearing their mind. Honestly, they might've drifted off for a moment had Velvet not suddenly sprung up and padded away.

"Hm?" they hummed in surprise, watching the collie trod off towards the woods. "Velvy, where ya going, girl?"

Knowing full well how often people got lost in the Witchwood, Ziggs stood up to go follow Velvet before she wandered too far. Thankfully, she stopped at the wooden fence, staring out into the forest and flicking her fluffy tail back and forth. Ziggy crouched down beside her, gently patting her back.

"What's out there, girl?" they asked. "Whaddya see?"

Velvet made no noise, simply sitting down with her gaze still fixed on... whatever it was she was looking at. Thinking that Velvet had just heard a chipmunk or something, Ziggy was about to get up and usher the collie back to the house.

"You're sure this is the place?"

Ziggy froze, startled. Velvet began barking. That... was definitely a human voice. So either a camper had wandered close to the farm, or Ziggs was about to get fucking murdered. They stood back up, awkwardly gripping the fence.

"Hello?" they called out over the sound of the dog's barks. "Anyone out there?"

Silence. Then, the sound of footsteps, coming closer from the woods. Ziggy flinched. Shit, should they have grabbed a pistol first? But before they could consider bolting, Velvet quit barking and the figure emerged from the shadows.

...It was a kid.

A young girl, probably around fifteen or sixteen years old. She was clad in a red striped shirt and a pair of overalls, with a thin yellow flannel covering her arms. Her dark brown hair was styled into twin braids. Ziggs relaxed their grip on the fence, and looked down at Velvet.

"Velvy, go get Emma, girl," they told the collie, gently scratching behind her ear. The dog took off towards the house, and Ziggs looked back up at the mysterious forest child. "Um... Hey?"

"Hello," the kid greeted them, her voice soft and polite. "Is this Perky's Buds?"

Ziggs wasn't sure how to respond. Did this kid just spookily emerge from the woods to ask for weed? They weren't allowed to sell to minors... Unless, this girl was just older than she looked?

"Yeah, this is the place," Ziggy replied. "So, um, who are you?"

The girl held out her hand. "I'm Hannah," she said. "Hannah Foster."

Ziggs awkwardly took her hand, shaking it. "I'm Ziggy, friends call me Ziggs," they introduced themself. "So, what brings you here so late?"

"Just investigating," the girl- no, Hannah responded. "May I come over the fence?"

Investigating? Was this kid a fucking narc or something? But before Ziggy could ask about that, Velvet's bark rang out once more, followed by Emma's voice.

"Slow down, girl!" she called out. "I'm comin', I'm comin'!"

Ziggy whirled around to see Velvet eagerly bound outside with Emma following a foot behind. Emma soon noticed the stranger on the other side of the fence, and approached curiously.

"Ziggy, what's going on?" she asked. Her eyes darted towards Hannah for a second. "Who's this?"

"Hannah Foster," Hannah answered. "I came here to investigate something. May I come in?"

"Investigate?" Emma echoed skeptically. "What, are you an undercover narc or something?"

Ziggs bit back a snicker. Hannah smiled softly and shook her head.

"No," she said. "I just wanted to document a few things."

Emma turned to look at Ziggs, who simply shrugged. They were as clueless as she was. After a moment of contemplation, Emma turned back to Hannah and nodded.

"Sure, knock yourself out, kid," she replied. "Just don't go sneaking the product while our backs are turned, 'kay?"

Hannah smiled wider. "Thank you," she said, climbing up over the fence. She pulled a pen and what looked to be a book bound in white leather out of her flannel. "I'm just gonna take a few laps around the area, then I'll be outta your hair."

Ziggs and Emma shared another confused glance, before following after Hannah. Velvet eagerly padded alongside the girl, who gently patted the dog's head as she surveyed the crops.

"So, um, Hannah?" Ziggs piped up. "Were you... talking to someone out there?"

"Mhm," Hannah hummed in response. "The trees. Freed them, Webby says."

Ziggs blinked in confusion. That was a... loaded sentence.

"Freed them?" Emma repeated in bafflement. "Who? The trees?"

Hannah nodded, scribbling something into the book. "Uh-huh," she said, looking at Emma with respect in her gaze. "Set their souls free, the ones you cut down anyway. They called you a savior."

Ziggs grumbled softly. If there was one thing they'd disagreed with Emma on about this business, it was how many trees she'd cut down to make room for everything. But this kid was saying that she'd... freed them? What? This was so fucking bizarre. And based on Emma's utterly puzzled expression, she was probably thinking the same thing.

"Marijuana, not tinder..." Hannah observed in a hushed tone as she eyed the crops. Gee, how astute... She nodded, once again scrawling something down in her book. "That would explain the smell, and their demeanor..."

"Wh- demeanor!?" Emma sputtered, almost a little offended. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Not yours, technically," Hannah calmly explained. "The scarecrows'."

Ziggy tilted their head to the side. "We only have one scarecrow," they told her. "And I'm like ninety percent sure he's not alive."

That seemed to catch Hannah's attention. "Where is it?" she asked with intrigue.

Without a word, Ziggs rushed forward and gestured for Hannah to follow, which she did. Velvet tailed along eagerly, with Emma a few steps behind. Within moments, they'd arrived at the farm's scarecrow. A chill fellow, clad in some old clothing of Emma's- namely a worn-out flannel and some ragged jeans, and Ziggy's beanie. To top it all off, a jack-o-lantern-esque face drawn on a burlap sack they'd found in the barn.

"Here he is!" Ziggy exclaimed proudly. "We had a bit of a Nighthawk problem early on, so we made this guy to scare 'em off. His name is Todd."

Hannah eyed Todd up and down, her expression unreadable. "Huh..." she said. "Looks different from the ones in Nightmare Time..."

At this point, Ziggy just wasn't gonna question the kid. No matter how she answered, they'd be left more confused than before. Hannah surveyed the scarecrow for another several minutes, before continuing on her merry way around the farm. Curious, Ziggy sneakily peered over Hannah's shoulder, just to see what is was she was actually writing.

"CROPS

Nightmare Time = Tinder Crop

Real World = Marijuana Plants

DOG

Nightmare Time = Timberwolf

Real World = Collie (Border?)

OWNERS

Nightmare Time = Scarecrows

Real World = Human (presumably)

Actual scarecrow (Todd) looks nothing like NMT scarecrows (no Grateful Dead tee, no skunk tail)"

Once again, Ziggy decided not to ask.

~

After another several minutes of following Hannah as she observed the farm, the kid finally stopped at the entrance. About time, as the sun had now fully gone down, with only the lights on the fence and the stars overhead illuminating the area.

"Alright," she said. "I think that's all I wanted to see."

"Well, I, uh..." Emma stammered, sounding unsure. "I hope you found what you were looking for?"

Hannah nodded, looking satisfied. "I'd best be going then," she declared. She looked to the two farmers. "Goodbye, Emma. Ziggy."

Hannah spun on her heels and started down the path, but Emma rushed forward, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second, kid!" she exclaimed frantically, stopping Hannah. "Are you planning on walking home from here?"

"Yeah, it's like, late," Ziggs added on, equally surprised. "W-we can give you a ride home, it's no trouble, really!"

Hannah smiled gratefully. "No thanks, I'm fine," she declined politely. "Webby can lead me home."

With another farewell- and a quick scratch behind Velvet's ears, Hannah left through the main entrance of the farm, disappearing into the night. Silence. Then, the two farmers turned to each other.

"Emma?"

"Yeah, Ziggs?"

"What the fuck just happened?"

[clinttbartton]

Jack gets sick on the road. Sam knows how to dad. Set early season 14.

read on ao3

---

Zepplin plays softly through the Impala's speakers. The early morning darkness outside smothers them like the knitted blanket draped over Jack where he's stretched out across the back seat. His head is pillowed on his jacket, and his legs are curled up near his middle.

Sam and Dean slump in the front seat, Dean behind the wheel and Sam scrolling on his tablet without really reading anything in an effort to stay awake. They speak in murmurs back and forth about the hunt they're returning from, about how they need rest.

"And showers."

"And about four pounds of bacon."

About how Castiel and Mom are waiting for them back at the bunker.

Just as Sam is finally getting into the article he has open, Jack shifts from lying on his side to his back and makes a noise in his sleep. Nightmares aren't uncommon for Jack, not for any of them, and Sam wonders if he should wake him or let him ride it out.

As if he’s read Sam’s mind, Dean glares and gives a shake of his head to Sam’s unspoken thought of pulling over and checking on the kid. Dean's been driving a long time and no doubt he's gunning to get home as fast as possible. He knows from experience too that pulling over isn't going to magically chase the nightmares away the next time Jack falls asleep. Sam concedes for the moment and turns back to his tablet.

The third time Jack cries out, Sam reaches his arm over the seat and pats Jack's leg. "Jack, buddy, hey."

Jack wakes with a start and groans again. "Sam?"

"Hey, it's me, I'm here. You okay?"

"I- I don't think so." Jack shivers under the blanket and winces as he shifts again. "I was having weird dreams. I'm cold, but when I have the blanket on me I feel too hot, like I'm on fire. And I hurt all over."

"Hurt? Like aches?"

Jack nods. Sam sighs. Hm. Not just nightmares then.

"Sounds like you might have a fever, kiddo. We'll pull over soon," he shoots Dean a pointed look across the front seat, "and take your temperature, get some medicine, alright?"

They pull into a Gas-n-Sip just as the approaching sun is painting everything gray, and Sam pops the glove box open to find the thermometer he stowed in there shortly after Jack lost his grace. Dean raises an eyebrow, as if he isn't the one who’s kept baby wipes in the trunk since before Sam turned twelve, and Sam rolls his eyes, straightening up as he steps out of the car. "What? Never know when we might need it."

He sticks the boxy end of the thermometer between his teeth so his hands are free and rummages in the trunk to pull out what he's looking for, a bottle of ibuprofen in case Jack doesn't have a fever after all. He strides around to the back driver's side door and swings it open where Jack's head is resting.

Sam hates to wake him now that the kid's finally gotten to sleep, but it's unlikely he'll have another chance to check him over until they're home.

"Jack?” he murmurs. “Wake up, sit up for me."

Jack groggily cracks his eyes open and tries to pull the blanket tighter around himself. It takes him a few moments to process what Sam said, but eventually he hauls himself upright and slumps against the seat, flushed cheek pressed against the vinyl. Under the florescent gas station lights and the early morning sky, Sam can see the dark circles under Jack’s eyes and the sheen of sweat at his hairline and the goosebumps on his arms where the blanket isn't covering them.

"How much longer until we're home?"

"A lot longer if we keep hamming and hawing," Dean calls from where he's pumping gas. He's only being a dick because he hates to see Jack sick too and wants to get home so he can fix him soup and Cas can heal him, but his impatience does nothing but piss Sam off.

"It's hemming and hawing, Dean," Sam snaps over his shoulder. He turns back to Jack and brushes at the hair hanging in the kid's eyes.

He takes Jack's temperature: 100.6. Not dangerous, but he's definitely come down with something.

"I'm gonna run inside for some medicine. Do you want the syrup kind you drink or the capsules you swallow?"

Jack thinks a moment. The last time he took capsules, he'd nearly gagged trying to swallow them, so Sam isn't surprised when he croaks, "Syrup, please."

Sam pushes Jack's hair back from his forehead one more time before unfolding himself from the backseat. He returns with Nyquil, a bottle of water, and a portable pouch of applesauce. Jack cringes when Sam hands him the cap full of thick blue syrup.

"Three, two, one," Sam counts down for him, and Jack pinches his nose and tilts the cap back to swallow the medicine. Sam motions for him to do it again to get the sip he missed at the bottom, then lifts the corner of his flannel so Jack can wipe the lingering syrup from his lips.

Jack gulps down half the applesauce pouch to rid his mouth of the medicine taste before pushing it toward Sam. Sam twists to poke his head out the door to ask Dean if he wants the rest, who grabs it immediately. Probably not the best idea if they want to avoid the rest of them getting sick, but Sam doesn't think Dean's eaten since lunch yesterday.

Dean tosses the empty pouch into the trash can next to the gas pump, double-checks that the gas cap is on, and slides into the driver's seat. "You gonna ride back there with him?"

Sam nods and reassures Jack he'll feel better in twenty minutes or so when the medicine kicks in. Jack shuffles closer until he's pressed against Sam's side and leans his head against Sam's shoulder. Sam wraps an arm around him, pressing a kiss into his hair.

With his free hand Sam texts Cas an update on their ETA and that Jack's not feeling well. Cas replies with a thumbs up emoji, a crying face emoji, and a yellow heart emoji seconds later. Sam sends back a purple heart.

Before they get far down the road, Jack resituates himself with his head in Sam's lap so he can stretch out across the back seat again. He drifts off to sleep easily this time. Sam tucks the blanket more tightly around Jack's shoulders and cards his fingers through Jack's hair the rest of the way home.

[nanyoky]

@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.