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belltari · 1 year ago

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Happy (early) Halloween!!

I finished editing this today but I couldn't wait until Halloween to post it so here it is, an EXTREMELY self indulgent ghoap sex-in-the-closet Halloween fic.

If you're under 18, you shouldn't be reading it.

warnings & tags: plot with porn (a halloween party, its what the boys deserve), terrible dad jokes, flirty banter, established relationship (I'm imagining that it's still new, like only Price knows and Gaz is putting the pieces together), some dom!ghost tones (nothing too dominant), pleasure dom!Simon (that man just wants Johnny to feel good), public sex (it's a blowjob in a closet), face rutting, cum eating, someone gets called a "good boy" a couple of times

it's about 3 thousand-ish words

This was my first time writing something this explicit, so please keep in mind that I have a lot to learn. The other writers in the cod fandom are excellent teachers and inspire me a great deal.

If you just want to read the porn, start reading after the ' -- '

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and have a great rest of your spooky season!

Approaching the mess hall, Johnny chuckles at the purple and orange 'Happy Halloween!' banner hanging above the doorway, it's very clearly homemade with streaky paint and clumpy glitter making up the words and what looks like an old, tattered tarp as the banner. He wonders if it was a team-building exercise for the recruits, as this whole party was a mixer for them to get to know each other better.

Paper party streamers act as a curtain on the wide doorframe, blocking Johnny's view of the interior of the mess hall, he can feel the bass of the music thumping in his chest and hear cheerful laughter from the other side. Pushing the curtain aside, he steps through to see the short corridor has been decorated. Plastic bats with light-up red eyes hang on strings from the ceiling, jack-o'-lantern string lights flickering along the walls accompanied with signs with sayings like "enter if you dare" and "turn back" written on them. When he gets to the end, he surveys the now-repurposed dining hall, more streamers, banners, and cheap plastic decorations decorate the room. The lights have been turned off and the windows covered, floodlights and spotlights covered with coloured transparent pieces of plastic are the only lights illuminating the room creating a dramatic scene.

Several tables are being used as pumpkin carving stations, one of the recruits is ripping the guts out and complaining about the smell, and another is stabbing their pumpkin with a hunting knife. Gaz is there, dressed as a vampire with a long cape and plastic fangs in his mouth, to supervise. He's laughing with them telling them they need to work on their techniques a bit more when he catches Soap's eye giving him a smile and a quick wave, he returns the gesture and continues scanning the room.

He turns to where the music is coming from, tables cleared from the corner creating a makeshift dancefloor. Recruits dressed as ghouls, goblins, witches, and all sorts of different costumes grind and dance together to the music, drinks in hand, and smiles on their faces. 'No better team bonding than getting absolutely shit-faced together' Soap thinks to himself with a grin across his face. He notices Price standing with a group of other captains and lieutenants, he's got a glass of whiskey in one hand and is using the other to help animate whatever story he's got everyone laughing at. Price is dressed in a tri-corn hat with a tall feather sticking out of the side and a knee-length red coat with gold adornments on the sleeves and lapels. 'Gotta be Captain Morgan' Soap smiles, shaking his head. Price notices him, giving Soap a smile and a quick nod which Soap returns.

Finally, he spots the man he was looking for, his broad back facing away from him. Soap approaches walking up to grab a drink next to Ghost. He has his balaclava rolled up to his nose, a half-eaten cupcake in one hand, and a plate of other confections in the other. "Thought you'd put a little more effort in L.T.." Soap says as twists open the bottle of beer he's picked up and turns to smile at Ghost.

Ghost is wearing his normal skull balaclava and skeletal gloves, but his 'costume' has the addition of a hoodie with the skeletal system of a torso and arms.

"Didn’t put much effort in 'cause my heart just wasn’t in it." Ghost response points to his chest where his heart would be.

Soap snorts. "Bet you've been waiting to say that all night."

"Gotta 'nother one for ya."

"Go on then."

"Why are skeletons so calm?" He pauses. "Because nothing gets under their skin."

"Ugh please no more." Soap says in a playful tone shaking his head.

"What are you supposed to be then?" Ghost asks, pointing to Soap while eating the rest of his cupcake.

"Thought it was obvious? The fluffy tail and ears, the roguishly good looks?" Soap pauses, looking at Ghost with a wolfish grin. "C'mon Ghost, I thought you were good at this?"

Ghost eyes rake over Soap’s form. Starting at his furry-eared headband, then down to his bright red collar around his neck. He pauses there for a second, Soap can see his Adam’s apple bob under his balaclava, before continuing further down to his distressed dress shirt that he’s left open at the top exposing his chest, he’s half tucked in his shirt to his jeans that he often wears on ops, the ones that hug his hips and thighs just right. And between his legs, a dark furry tail hangs ending just above his knees.

"Oh, I see you're one of those yappy little lap dogs."

"Oh aye. I'm very territorial and I never shut up. Watch your ankles L.T., I always go for those." Soap says stepping closer to Ghost. He looks down at the collar he's wearing, lifting his eyes back up, over Johnny's chin, to his smirking lips then setting on his bright blue eyes.

"Hmm" Ghost hums. "And is he a good boy too?" He said as he bites into a ghost-shaped sugar cookie.

"Depends on who's giving the orders, sir." Soap looks up through his lashes at Ghost, taking a swig of his drink.

Ghost looks around to make sure no one is paying any mind to them. When he's sure no one is, he hooks a finger under the collar pulling Soap even closer. He then leans into Soap's ear and whispers "Be a good boy then and go to the utility closet, lock the door, and don't open it until you hear three knocks of a beating heart." He doesn't wait for Johnny to respond before pulling away and walking over to Price, where Gaz has now joined him at the other end of the room.

Soap takes a deep breath, downing the rest of his drink, and grabs another one before joining the rest of 141.

When he approaches, Gaz is in the middle of telling Price about the pumpkin carving recruits and their 'interesting' techniques. But Soap's not listening, he's watching Ghost eat another cookie, licking the crumbs from the corner of his lip, laughing at something Price had said.

Soap's face gets hot, he downs a couple mouthfuls of his beer to try and cool down. "You good, Soap?" Gaz asks smiling at him.

"Aye, but this beer isn't. Has to be the weakest thing I've ever drank."

"It's probably a lot better than at piss tequila you drink." Ghost jokes.

"Think I'll go find ya some then LT. Maybe I can get you to come round to it." Soap winks at Ghost and turns to leave, only to be stopped by another captain holding a camera. "Group shot for the books, boys?" She asks. Soap looks over his shoulder at Price as he answers "Alright, come on then," waving the boys closer.

Price throws his arms over Gaz and Ghost's shoulders, Ghost rolls his balaclava back down over his jaw and Soap takes his place on the end next to him, snaking an arm around his back placing his hand on Ghost's waist.

"Say 'Happy Halloween!" The captain says as she readies to take the picture. Soap throws up the peace sign and the boys say the words the captain wanted when the camera flashes.

She comes over to show them the picture, they all look happy, even Ghost looks like he's smiling under his mask. They deserve a break like this after their last op. They move apart and Soap tells them he is going to find that drink for Ghost and excuses himself.

"Ma'am, could I get a copy of that picture?" Soap taps the captain with the camera on her shoulder on his way out. "Of course, hun! I'll make sure to give Price a few extra copies once I get them printed."

"Cheers!" Soap says raising his bottle in response "Enjoy the rest of your night."

"You too!" She says, giving a short wave to Soap.

'Oh, I will.' Soap thinks as he makes his way out of the mess hall and into the corridor leading to the utility closet Ghost wants him to wait in. He walks as fast as he can without looking suspicious, a tightness growing in his stomach and a heart wanting to break free of his ribs in excited anticipation of what's to come.

Rounding a corner, he meets a group of recruits.

"Leaving the party already Sarg?"

"Don't cha worry I'll be back, I'm only out looking for a little something stronger to drink." Soap responds with a wink as he walks backward down the hall coming to a corner. "You lads better get back there, don't want the captain to catch you out here." He turns the corner, hearing the recruits retreating footsteps as he approaches the utility closet door.

When he's standing in front of the door, he grips the handle, checking both ends of the hallway to make sure he won't be seen entering. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he opens the door and steps inside, reaching to his left to flick on the light and shutting the door behind him locking himself in.

He waits for what feels like ages. He finished the last of his drink a while ago and is now pacing around the small room.

"The things I do for this man." Soap signs. "This is ridiculous, what am I even doing in here?"

He checks his watch, 20 minutes have passed.

He's been waiting in a closet for Ghosts for twenty minutes.

"Oh, I'm so making you pay for this LT." He leans against the wall, readjusting his headband to distract him from the tightness in his pants that has been there for the last 15 minutes.

'Fuck it' he thinks, 'I'm not waiting any longer.' He reaches to palm himself through his jeans, moaning at the feeling of finally being touched. His briefs are wet with precum and creating a slick surface that his cock twitches against earning another sign from him. He reaches into his shirt to grab his nipple when a knock from the door startles him.

Knock-knock

Soap takes two long strides to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open. Ghost pushes his way in, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Jesus Simon, I thought you were going to make me wait here all night," Johnny says moving to stand chest to chest with Simon. He places one hand on Simon's waist and moves his other to take off Simon's mask.

Simon grabs his wrist and moves away. "Thought you were being a good boy? Think you need to learn some patience."

"My patience ran out 15 minutes ago." Johnny groans, freeing his wrist and ripping Simon’s mask off, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him. His hair is an absolute mess, sticking up in all directions and a smirk is plaster across his face, he's looking down at Johnny hungerly.

Johnny smashes his lips onto Simon's in a desperate sloppy kiss, tongue and saliva pushing into Simon's mouth. A moan escapes Johnny. Simon reaches one of his hands up to the back of Johnny's head, caressing his nape first then gripping the back of his mohawk to deepen the kiss.

Johnny pulls away breathing hard when Simon's other hand touches his cock through his jeans. "Fuuuuck" he moans into Simon's neck, placing several open-mouthed kisses there and bringing his hands to wrap around Simon's broad back grabbing fist fulls of his hoodie.

Johnny ruts against Simon's hand earning a chuckle from Simon, "Desperation looks good on you, Johnny."

"Can think of a couple other things that might look even better."

Simon pulls away from Johnny, placing a hand on his chest pushing him away, "Stay." He says as looks down at him with half-lidded eyes. His gaze wanders down Johnny's face to the collar he wears on his neck, then to his chest that heaves in excitement, shirt half unbuttoned showing off his well-defined pecs that are covered in dark hair. Simon takes his hand and brushes Johnny's shirt where he knows his nipple sits underneath, drawing a shutter out of him. He smiles, looking up to Johnny's eyes that are already staring back at him. Simon looks down to see Johnny has clenched his fists that hang by his sides and sees that he's straining against his jeans, a wet spot has formed where the head of his cock has been twitching, wishing to be free from the confines of his jeans.

"You gonna me show how good you are?" He asks Johnny.

"Simon, please I-"

Simon walks Johnny backward until his back meets the shelf full of cleaning supplies behind them, shaking when they collide with it. Simon goes to plant a kiss on Johnny's mouth when Johnny tries to meet him halfway, "Ah-ah, I said stay" he scolds as he grabs Johnny's jaw with a firm grip. He places a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, then on the scar on his chin, and then one more on the pulse on his neck, he can feel it racing under his lips.

He suddenly pulls away and crouches down to settle on his knees in front of Johnny. Simon reaches for Johnny's belt unbuckling it, he unbuttons his jeans pulling them and his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs in one fluid motion, letting Johnny's cock spring free in front of his face.

A string of precum hangs from the half-covered head of his cock, creating a string that connects to the inside of his briefs. It twitches and another pearl forms under Simon's gaze. The pearl drops to the floor when Simon's gloved hand connects with his shaft, slowly moving his foreskin back to reveal his glistening, swollen head.

"Ahh, fuck" Johnny sighs, throwing his head back to smack against the self with a bang, knocking over a couple of the bottles.

"Careful, Johnny. Need to stay quiet, don't want anyone finding us do ya?" Simon teases as he starts lazily stroking his cock. He gets a hiss from Johnny, as he slides his gloved hand down his shaft to the base, creating a rough sensation for Johnny.

Simon's hand slides back up to his leaking head, thumb going to Johnny's frenulum drawing agonizingly slow circles on it. Simon looks up at Johnny to see his face contorted in pleasure with the overstimulation he's causing and that his headband has been knocked out of place. He brings his other hand to grip Johnny's balls, pulling them down gently. Johnny's chest heaves in when he releases a heavy breath, his hand shooting out to grip the edge of the shelf he's leaning on, his other hand hovering over Simon's head, hesitating to grip his hair. He looks down to Simon for permission, to which Simon responds by releasing his hand from Johnny's cock and catching it on his tongue.

"Yer gonna kill me." He breathes, getting a open-mouthed grin out of Simon. He wraps his lips around him before sucking on his head, flicking his tongue on the underside.

"Simon." Johnny warns.

Simon sinks his whole cock into his mouth, nose pushing into Johnny's pubic bone, a burning feeling in the back of his throat. He sticks his tongue out to caress his balls while he starts messaging them with his hand. Drool drops into his palm helping ease the rough feeling of his glove for Johnny. He slides Johnny's cock out of his mouth to take a deep breath.

"Think yer enjoying this more than me." Johnny chuckles at Simon looking down at the saliva dripping from his wet lips. Simon only looks up at him in response before pulling his cock back into his mouth, sucking and bobbing up and down his cock with a relentless pace this time. He never breaks eye contact with Johnny as he starts playing with his balls and moving his forefinger to brush against his taint. This makes Johnny buck forward deep into Simon's mouth and grip his own pec, wanting to place pressure on his nipple. Simon pulls Johnny's hand away, ripping his shirt open making a couple of the buttons fly free. He finds Johnny's nipple and pinches. Hard.

"I'm- I’m gunna-!" Johnny pants out. Bucking forward once again, pushing his cock farther down Simon’s throat, making his eyes water.

Simon can feel him twitching and pulsing inside his throat. He pulls his head away quickly just as Johnny starts to come, he tastes it briefly on his tongue before releasing his cock with a pop and feels Johnny's cum land on his face. One release squirts up his cheek stopping on his cheekbone and another across the bridge of his nose just missing his eye. More oozes out as Johnny grips the sides of Simon’s head to rut through his orgasm, rubbing and grinding his cock against Simon's face, his balls slapping against his jaw with a wet sticky sound. Simon closes one of his eyes as Johnny’s cock gets dangerously close to it, even more cum is leaking out of the tip as Johnny overstimulates himself. When he stops, he's breathing hard and hunching over, shaking from his orgasm, his cock jumps against the bridge of Simon’s nose. The cum pooled there drips down his face and over his chin, dripping onto his neck and disappearing under his shirt.

"Good boy." Simon says as he pats Johnny's thigh.

"Lemme be even better than,” he says, as he unsteadily crouches down in front of Simon, “and help clean you up." He sticks his tongue out, licking the cum off Simon’s neck, trailing up to his chin, then up and over his cheek. After he's collected it all in his mouth he kisses Simon, holding eye contact when he pushes it into his mouth with his tongue, smiling when he accepts it. Johnny pulls away, looking very impressed with himself, a string of saliva connects them and Simon swallows what he’s given him. Wiping his mouth with the back of this hand, Simon stands them both up, pulling Johnny's pants up, tucking him back in his briefs, and making his best attempt to fix his shirt.

Johnny places an arm around Simon's neck pulling him into a sweet tender kiss. "Let's get you sorted then." He smiles into Simon's lips, he reaches underneath his hoodie to brush along Simon’s abdomen, running his fingers through his happy trail, flattening his hand to slide into the top of his cargo pants.

Simon pulls away slightly, reaching up to fix Johnny’s fluffy-eared headband. "You know I don't need that."

"I know" he pauses "but I want too," Johnny whispers into his cheek. "I'll come to your room later. This time you'll have to wait for me." He smirks looking up at him.

"I'll be waiting." Simon kisses Johnny one last time, then steps out of his reach, picking up his discarded mask from the floor and slipping it over his head back into place. He grabs Soap's long-forgotten empty bottle and says, "Wait five minutes before leaving, yeah?"

"I know, Ghost. This isn't my first time." He smiles.

"And remember that piss tequila you were supposed to be findin'."

"You won't be callin' it that by the end of the night."

"Mmm, I doubt that." Ghost opens the door quietly to listen for anyone outside, when he hears nothing, he looks back at Soap over his shoulder and nods a 'see you' then steps out closing the door behind him.

Soap takes in a deep breath. 'Think I gotta start wearing a collar more often.' He thinks. 'Maybe I should start wearing the throat mic again?'

#ghost has a sweet tooth and i wont hear otherwise #price and gaz are here but they play a small part so imma not tag em #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #bell writes

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lovelylogans · 1 year ago

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the parent trap

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: epilogue

Two very similar boys help their two very different families assimilate into one.

⁂

“Aw, Pa, do we have to?”

Patton—still entirely unused to driving on the left side of the road and therefore relegated to the passenger’s seat—gives Remus a Look through the rearview mirror.

“Even if this wasn’t suggested by the lawyer to clearly illustrate the harm that judge had on your upbringing, yes, I absolutely would have pushed for this on my own.”

“It’s a big upheaval in your lives, anyway,” Janus says, absently reaching over to pat Patton’s hand as he cranes his neck to watch for incoming traffic. “Too right you should have someone to talk to that isn’t related to you.”

“Or Virgil.”

“Or Virgil,” Janus amends. “And before either of you get any ideas, if you absolutely hate it there: fine. We shall find another child psychologist. But if you prank your way out of there, then that means you’re going to another child psychologist and your time in therapy will increase, as pranking the people you dislike is not a healthy way to express your feelings.”

The twins exchange a look.

Patton hopes that look means darn, any potential plan is foiled! but even he can see that there’s still some mischief brewing in those matching heads of theirs.

But any complaints are cut short by Janus pulling into the parking lot; sorry, the car park, he’s still getting used to all that.

Patton and Janus herd the boys in; they shuffle in, all together, to a cozy-looking if slightly bland waiting room, the other three taking up all the seats on the available couch as Patton approaches the front desk.

“Hi,” Patton says. “Appointment for Remus and Roman, under Parker-James?”

“Parker-James?” The person at the desk says, flipping through their agenda calendar. “Remus and Roman Parker-James… yes, I have you right here, he should be ready pretty soon…”

Janus flips through a spare copy of Vogue; the boys play some kind of hand-slapping game they must have learned at camp; Patton pretends to read the magazine in his hands while watching them both out of the corner of his eyes.

“Parker-James?” A voice calls from inside the office.

All four of them stand and make their way into the room.

The room is set up in mostly earth-tones; brown couches, leather armchair, nice wooden bookshelves stocked up with the books chock full of the latest therapeutic breakthroughs, a few plants tucked away in the corners.

The pops of color come from the cartoon decor; little figurines, paintings, a few stuffed animals tucked into strategic locations. Rubber ducks and Disney heroines and plucky child protagonist and superheroes, stretch as far as the eye can see.

And there’s a great tarp set up on the floor and transparent plastic wrapped over the chairs, hanging in front of the bookshelves with their decorations and books, with a variety of incredibly tempting, messy-looking acrylic paints ripe for any child to cause chaos.

“Hello there, boys,” the therapist says with a smile, setting aside his pen and notebook. “I’m Dr. Emlie Picani. I’ll be your therapist. Do either of you enjoy painting?”

The boys exchange a look, this one much less loaded with mischief, but both nod.

“Good!” Dr. Picani says. “Me too. I’d like this first session to be much less formal—and don’t worry if you get a bit messy with it, I’ve got all these tarps laid out and I believe your Dads have brought spare clothes if necessary. And, on that note—Dads, if you’ll take your leave?”

“Be good,” Janus says, smoothing a hand over Remus’s then Roman’s hair.

“Have fun, boys!” Patton says, and they take their leave.

Patton has a pretty good feeling about this.

⁂

“All right, Remus?”

“All right,” Remus says, getting pretty used to the way the British exchange this particular pleasantry. “Uncle Logan’s sent down—”

“Ah, a cuppa!” Grandfather exclaims, taking tray off Remus’s hands. “Now, I’ll be mother—would you like one?”

“What is it?” Remus says.

“Earl grey, looks like,” Roman says, taking his nose out of the book he’s reading long enough to look.

“Yeah, I’ll have one,” Remus says, flopping onto one of the numerous couches in the study. “Thanks, Grandpa Toby.”

Grandfather putters about with the tray for a moment, taking a moment to add something to his—Remus spies the amber-colored liquid in the glass bottle Grandfather keeps in an isolated place where the children can’t reach it.

“Here you are, Roman, bit of honey—Remus, yours with enough sugar to kill me—”

“No brandy?” Remus says, giving Grandfather a hopeful look.

“Certainly not,” Grandfather says, as if he didn’t literally just sneak away a healthy slug into his own teacup. “You’ll stick to your wines, and you’ll have to ask your fathers to indulge in that, besides.”

Remus considers this. “How many years until that wavers?”

Grandfather pauses.

“When you’re eighteen!” Roman squawks.

“Yes, certainly,” Grandfather says with an approving nod to Roman. “When you’re eighteen. That’s the responsible answer.”

Roman nods in satisfaction and returns his attention to his book.

“When I’m twelve?” Remus whispers.

“Certainly not,” Grandfather says, just as quietly.

“Thirteen.”

“No.”

“Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“...Eighteen.”

“Oh, puh-lease, as if you didn’t have moments of underage drinking, you can’t judge me for wanting to try things.”

Grandfather pauses, then waggles his hand side-to-side.

“Knew it,” Remus mutters, and he picks up a section of Grandfather’s newspaper. The sports section—Remus has been told in very certain terms about which teams the Jameses do and do not support, but it’s all gone in one ear and out the other—and pretends to read the articles while he really keeps an eye out to see if they’ve put any of the fun, rude chants in the paper.

(Tragically, no.)

And so they sit in silence, sipping their tea and reading their individual pieces of interest, and neither twin breathes a word to their fathers when their Grandfather cracks open the study window and busies himself with packing his pipe the instant the tea is done and spends the afternoon merrily smoking away.

⁂

Janus had initially been surprised that Patton had so willingly gone along with his insistence on filing a legal custody arrangement, even though they were once again back together.

The Patton he married nearly a dozen years ago probably would have insisted it wasn’t necessary, that they were together now and there was no point in it, but the Patton of today had fervently agreed and pored over the agreement with a metaphorical fine-toothed comb.

A decade without one of your sons was enough to change a person, Janus supposed.

Even if Patton tended to call it the Worst Case Scenario document.

“Okay,” Janus says, examining it. “Each boy returns to their original schooling, if necessary.”

“Even year summers are mine; odd year summers are yours,” Patton says. “The boys spend your birthday with you, and my birthday with me, when possible.”

“You have American Thanksgiving, always, which would mean I would always Bonfire Night.”

“Even year Christmas-and-Boxing-Days are yours; even year New Year’s are mine.”

“And Easters and other minor holidays in which the boys have a break from schooling alternate, with potential to revise the custodial arrangement until the boys are eighteen, at which point they’ll be free to spend holidays as they choose.”

They examine the paperwork in silence.

“Do you think we missed anything?” Janus says.

“I don’t think so,” Patton says uncertainly. “I’m sure Remy will tell us if we did.”

“Yes, that he would,” Janus says.

They stare at the paperwork some more.

“And now,” Patton says. “To file it away with Remy and hope we never need it.”

“To hope we never need it,” Janus agrees fervently, and Patton leans in for a kiss.

⁂

Not to be dramatic, but Remus has been dying from excitement looking forward to this moment literally since the moment their parents decided to send Remus to Roman’s fancy British school.

The fact that he has to wear a suit and tie kind of sucks, though. But it’s kind of nice that he’s going to be in all the same classes as Roman, if solely to spend more time teasing his brother and nothing else sentimental.

The school is smaller than Remus’s public California school; it’s all red brick and ivy, with a SOCCER field out back, a little bit outside of the edges of the city proper. He rides on the bus (also new—Virgil usually drove him to and from school, back home) and Roman escorts him to the office to make sure all of their paperwork is filed, like Dad told him to.

It is—he has to do hardly anything, just carry a form for his new teacher to fill out. He ignores whatever map they’re offering and just falls into step behind Roman.

The teacher meets him in the hall, signs his form, and goes into the classroom to introduce him.

Remus smiles to himself. Excellent. A dramatic entrance.

“Class,” the teacher says. “We have a new student this year—a Mr. Remus Parker, from California, in America. Come in, Remus, we can find a place for you next to your brother.”

Remus walks in, to whispers of wow, Roman has a twin! and American?! unhearing to all of it, his eyes searching the room for one familiar face.

He finds it.

All of the blood has drained from Dick Davies’s face, making him look even more pale and awful than usual. He’s slithered down in his chair, looking moments away from letting out a pathetic, awful whimper.

Remus offers his most bloodthirsty, shit-eating grin.

He does find a spot near Roman—near the back of the room, which is excellent. None of his American teachers would have made that mistake.

He waits until class is underway before he starts making mischief.

Like fucking Spalding he writes on a piece of paper, crumpling it into a ball, which he proceeds to chuck, full-strength, at the back of Davies’s head. Davies picks it up, frowning, and reads.

He lets out a really undignified squawking noise, which gets him giggled at by his classmates and scolded by their teacher. Roman grins sheepishly into his notebook, exchanging a look with Remus.

Yeah, Remus thinks. It’s going to be a fun year.

⁂

Janus loves London dearly.

He was born and raised there; he’s raising his children there. London is like another member of the family.

But Napa was certainly very nice at this time of year.

Janus lets out a pleased sigh at the sight of the sun, hands braced on the balcony railing as he looks over the vineyard sprawling below them.

“You’re like a cat,” a familiar voice says behind him, amused.

Janus smiles, but he doesn’t turn to see his visitor; instead, he simply theatrically tilts his face into the sunrays, taken up by the sweet, simple treasure of his body inundated by the sun’s glow.

“Sitting in the little sunspots and soaking up all the warmth,” Patton continues, pressing his lips to the nape of Janus’s neck; Janus can feel him smiling there.

“The boys are off,” Patton murmurs. “You’ll probably see them galloping out if you stand here long enough.”

Janus grins. “I’m sure Roman’s eager for the excuse to dress up as a proper countryman.”

“They look pretty cute in the flannels,” Patton says, and he wraps his arms around Janus’s waist. “You do, too.”

“It is yours.”

“Ah, that must be part of it,” Patton murmurs, and Janus laughs.

“I’m sure you were probably coming to soak up the sun before you return to the frigidity of London.”

“Well, I won’t lie—that’ll definitely be a nice part of being here again,” Patton says.

“And the other part?”

Patton presses another kiss to his neck, more lingering, more heated.

“Nice big house,” Patton says, “I think we’re the only ones in it” and Janus laughs; even after all these years, Patton can barely bring himself to say anything past the implication of innuendo.

“All right, then,” Janus says, turning to wrap his arms around Patton’s neck. “Bring me in we’ll do our best to keep each other warm.”

And Patton, pulling him along to their bedroom, certainly does.

⁂

“I guess there’s a lot to do on a vineyard this time of year.”

Roman surveys the grape vines, buzzing with employees and tourists alike, from his place tucked amidst the trees, atop Sprout. He is—once again—wearing the full wannabe cowboy outfit: flannel shirt, jeans, boots that Papa got for him practically as soon as they arrived in California, and his truly excellent cowboy hat.

Remus—a more experienced rider and therefore permitted to ride Papa’s Cinnamon—looks over at him with an expression that reads duh.

He’s also in jeans and boots, but he’s wearing a band t-shirt with one of Virgil’s old flannels thrown over the top, and a black cowboy hat. Basically the all-black, goth-equivalent of Roman’s red-and-white, wannabe-cowboy outfit.

Roman decides to read it as fond, reasserting his grip on the reins. “It is nice to feel warm weather, though.”

“Oh, you’re telling me,” Remus says. “I’ve never seen snow like I’ve seen in London—and it doesn’t even stick around very long! All the cars water it down to gray slush—”

“—and Dad and Uncle Logan would not be pleased it you started tracking that inside,” Roman says hastily, lest Remus resume his ideas of dirty snow snowball fights. Roman does not want to deal with slush down the back of his newest jumpers, thank you.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Remus sighs, waving him off, and turning his face to the Napa sun. Weak as it is, Roman thinks, it’s certainly much warmer here than it is back home in London, where carolers and bell-ringers have set up shop on practically every corner.

It’s not their first time back in Napa since their parents resumed their romance, but they are here for the longest; they’ll be back in London in time for Christmas, Boxing Day, and New Years’ with Grandfather, but the James-Parkers have decided to take advantage of the stretch of much better weather down in Napa while the pair of them are off school.

So: plentiful horse rides in the vineyard, getting up the courage to maybe splash around the much chillier pool, occasional jaunts into nearby cities and towns, baking cookies with Virgil and Uncle Logan.

Roman’s really looking forward to it.

“You know,” Roman says, contemplative. “The last time I was around this spot, Papa was trying to tell me he was going to marry Maddox?”

Remus makes a dreadful gagging noise. “Ugh, could you imagine?”

“I bet we’d be stuffing his Christmas cookies full of cinnamon so he’d choke on them.”

“Stuffing his stocking with dead fish!”

“Wrapping up a list of numbers for divorce lawyers as a present for Papa!”

“Pushing him out on an iceberg with the penguins!”

They both crack up at the memory of Maddox flailing in the middle of the lake.

“I’m really glad our fathers sent us to the same camp.”

“Ugh,” Remus complains, then, “yeah, I guess I am too.”

They sit in companionable silence for a while. There are a few birds, perhaps on their way south for the winter, chirping quietly in the trees. The distant murmur of people in the fields reaches them in a hush. The fields are less verdant than it was in the true depths of summer, but everything here is certainly much greener than anything in London. The scent of wildflowers wafts on the slight breeze, distant but there.

It’s really very nice.

Then:

“Raceya!” Remus shouts, and him and Cinnamon are off like a shot.

“Hey, no fair!” Roman yelps, digging his heels into Sprout’s side, and they speed off after his brother, kicking up dust behind them.

⁂

Logan thinks that Janus has placed a sprig of mistletoe in the doorway leading from kitchen to dining room solely for the purpose of attacking Patton with kisses whenever he goes to get everyone more wine.

Not that Logan is complaining. It works to his advantage, too.

Logan waits, quiet, as the sink shuts off, as the last cabinet closes, and then he takes a purposeful step forward.

Just in time to catch Virgil coming back from washing the dishes.

“Oh,” Logan says. “Look at that. We’ve been caught under the mistletoe.”

Virgil grins at him. “Accidentally, I’m sure.”

“Was I being too subtle? No, I want to kiss you.”

Virgil laughs. “Merry Christmas, Logan.”

“Merry Christmas, Virgil,” Logan whispers back, and Virgil leans in, pressing their lips together, Logan leaning back against the doorframe and wrapping his arms around Virgil’s neck.

They thoroughly fulfill the criteria of kissing under the mistletoe.

⁂

It’s almost weirder to Patton that he isn’t experiencing a ton of déjà vu.

Sure, it’s his second wedding day; sure, it’s in the same place as it was last time; sure, it’s to the same man, but other than that, there isn’t much else that’s the same.

For one thing, their relatives have managed to make it this time, Patton’s dearest regret of eloping the way he did; his sister, Linda, is standing beside Janus’s father, their heads bent together, discussing something very intently.

Their boys, in matching suits of white—Remus with a basket of flower petals, an errant rose probably plucked from a floral arrangement stuck behind his ear. Roman holds the rings, smiling up at Patton.

(They’d considered the boys for the opposite jobs—Roman surely would have liked to be tossing flower petals everywhere—but then Patton thought priceless wedding rings and Remus’s brand of mischief and they’d quickly swapped them around.)

Patton smiles back at his son, reaching down to ruffle his hair, thinking better of it, and instead squeezing his shoulder.

“You ready, Pat?” Virgil murmurs from his rightful place at Patton’s side as his best man.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready,” Patton confesses, adjusting the lapels of his silver-gray suit jacket, mindful not to crush his boutonniere of a tiny, pale pink rose and white alstroemerias. “I should be more nervous, right? I should be nervous, but I’m just really excited.”

A corner of Virgil’s lip quirks up, his eyes straying back toward where Logan is ducking back to see to any of Janus’s last-minute needs.

“Or maybe,” Patton suggests innocently, “all this talk of weddings is maybe leading you to think about…?”

Virgil laughs, a nervous, gleeful giggle, as Remus blitzes down the aisle, pelting anyone and everyone with rose petals.

“What, your wedding could make me think about my potential wedding?”

“Maybe you should,” Patton says, “think about a potential wedding, I mean” and Virgil snorts.

Roman gives Virgil an excited look at the thought of another occasion for fancy outfits, and he has to prodded into remembering his entrance timing by Vendela.

“How about we get through this wedding before we start worrying about another one?” Virgil says.

Patton grins, links arms with Linda—Janus’s father has gone back to join Logan and Patton’s once-groom-now-groom-again—and waves Virgil off on his walk down the aisle.

And now Linda squeezes his arm, rubbing up and down.

“Last chance to back out,” Linda jokes, her brown eyes and tan skin accentuated by the pale rose gown and matching shawl that Janus has put her in.

“Not on your life,” Patton says, breathless and giddy, which makes Linda laugh.

“Ready?” Vendela murmurs and, before he can answer, she says “and go” and suddenly Linda’s walking him down the aisle.

He feels a little awkward with everyone’s eyes on him, but he finds it’s easy enough to tune it out when he smiles and waves to his friends and family—the folks who help him at the vineyard, cousins and aunts and uncles, friends from school and beyond.

He finds it easiest of all when he focuses on the end of the aisle: the officiator, Virgil with his hands behind his back, smiling at him fondly; and his boys, handsome in their not-quite-matching white suits, discreetly elbowing each other.

When they reach the aisle, Linda stands to kiss him on the cheek.

“Love you,” she murmurs.

“Love you too.”

She departs to her seat. Patton takes a moment to once again squeeze Roman’s shoulder and to ruffle Remus’s already-messy hair before he stands at the altar, staring down the aisle.

It somehow takes forever and also just a moment before Janus makes his entrance.

And Patton loses the air from his very lungs.

Janus—handsome, always—seems to have moved from beautiful to ethereal.

He’s stunning, wearing a self-made suit with a tailcoat in all white, from his intricately-knotted tie to his shining white oxfords, except for the soft patch of pink over his heart that denotes his boutonniere that matches Patton’s.

Patton blinks out the first of many, many joyful tears of the day.

Patton can barely notice the way Logan is smiling shyly at Virgil.

(He does notice, in fairness. But it’s very difficult to not be staring at his ex-husband/husband-to-be.)

Janus smiles at him, that familiar wicked curve of his mouth, the port wine birthmark across his cheek, those mesmerizing eyes, and Patton beams back, cheeks aching and sure that he looks very silly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

At last, at long last, Janus’s father kisses Janus on the cheek, gives Patton a very firm handshake, and goes to offer the boys a paternal pat on the shoulders before he finds his seat beside Linda.

Logan ascends, taking a brief moment to give Virgil an unchoreographed kiss on the cheek before he flees back to his place.

But then Janus is standing before him, smiling. He’s so handsome. He’s so incredible. He’s so happy that this is the father of his children, the man he’s married once, the man he’s going to marry again.

Janus offers his hands. Patton seizes them, squeezing hard, almost blinded by his happy tears.

“I love you,” is all Patton can say, murmured under the swell of music.

“I love you too,” Janus whispers back, under the rustle of everyone sitting down again.

He can hear Roman’s daydreamy sigh and can only hope that Remus will suppress the urge to go “UGHHH” at an inopportune time in the ceremony.

“Ready?” The officiator murmurs. Patton and Janus nod, not taking their eyes off each other, and the officiator turns on his microphone.

“Friends, family, and loved ones, we are gathered here today…”

Janus squeezes his hands. Patton smiles at him.

Yeah.

They’re ready.

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#my fic #my fanfic #tpt fic

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brinefathomcaves · 9 days ago

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Brinefathom Caves Level 6, Week 2

6.14: The Drying Room

6.15: The Cursing Well: Small stone well made of feverish stone. Blood instead of water at the bottom. Scorched wooden sign hanging from it says “Who Would You Like to Curse Today?” in Infernal. If a creature throws a coin in and says a name aloud, there is a 3-in-4 chance that the named creature is cursed to be under the continual effect of the slow spell and a 1-in-4 chance that the curse rebounds on the wisher. Rebound chance increases by 1 each time the same creature uses the well within a week. Inside bucket (currently lowered and full of blood) is a switch that opens secret door to 6.16.

6.16: The Blood Money

6.17: The Skin Chamber: Odor of stale sweat. Surfaces made of what appears to be goblin skin, complete with outsize freckles, blemishes, and wiry hairs. Skin is 1” thick, with 11” of flesh behind it, then stone. Scabs formed around northern doors, must be cut through. Skin continues through hallway. Empty.

6.18: The Goblin Pits

6.19: The River of Fire

6.20: The Infinite Invertebrates

6.21: The Gelatinous Crossroads: 30’ cubical room, entrances at vertical center. Wisdom (perception) check to notice that it’s completely filled with transparent goo. Creatures that enter can’t breathe, take acid damage, and must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be restrained. Fire melts paths through that last for 24 hours. Empty.

6.22: The Dead Invertebrates: Smell of rotting seafood. Large pile of dead invertebrates (from 6.20) badly hidden under stone-camouflage tarp in corner. Empty.

6.23: The Mismatched Doors: Each door has a barred window at head-height for a medium creature. North door’s window shows view appropriate to south; south door’s shows view appropriate to west; west shows view appropriate to north. From outside, windows work normally. Empty.

6.24: The Insinuating Song

#brinefathom caves #brinefathom caves level 6 #megadungeon #dungeon23 #dungeon24 #dungeons and dragons

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jupiterswasphouse · 1 year ago

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[PHOTOS TAKEN: JULY 7TH, 2023 | Image IDs: Four photos of a tiny black wasp with mostly transparent wings (likely subfamily Aphidiinae or Eucoilinae) on a white woven tarp /End IDs.]

#wasps #wasp #insects #insect #bugs #bug #bugblr #hymenoptera #entomology #arthropods #invertebrates #inverts #photos #photo #Wasp House Sights

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thecglcatalog · 21 days ago

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Election Week Deal: The Toy Soldier Sale

Today we salute the selfless souls who re-train radicalized young men from militia fodder to sweet, obedient infantilized slave-boys. Such men are just searching for a sense of belonging, a code of behavior – and we’re honored to partner with the firm hands who provide it.

Through November 8, take 25% off the adult-baby items on this page with the code “BRO.” They’re ideal for helping former disaffected young men – and even legitimate military veterans! – feel out their new identity as your age-regressed little pet.

Sparkle Camo Underpants. Sweet little Y-front cotton briefs come in a seven-pack with two each of green, tan, and grey camo, plus a bonus pair in white. Edge trimming is metallic, and a pretty scattering of matching glitter dots adorns the backside. Specify trim color: Perfect Pearlescent, Rose Gold, Sterling Silver.

First Responder Slut Tees. Let baby show his respect for the things he values without losing sight of his new purpose in life. These transparent mesh tees are slightly cropped and adorned with the names of military and public services. Standard jersey short sleeves, crew neck amplify the contrast with the humiliating overall look! Specify FIRE DEPT (white/red), ARMY (tan/green), COAST GUARD (white/navy).

Water Pistol Onesie. Gun culture may have been important to your little toy’s life, so let him explore that interest in an age-appropriate way with the Water Pistol Onesie. Multicolored plastic squirt guns, many of them in the process of ejecting a stream and splash, tumble all over this super-soft cotton flannel onesie. Four multicolored crotch snaps to coordinate; lapped shoulders; three-quarter sleeves.

Mommy’s Tough Guy Onesie. Ringer-tee snap-crotch bodysuit in T-shirt jersey has “Mommy’s Tough Guy” in applique letters on the front. Also available in “Daddy’s Tough Guy.” Jersey with short sleeves, crew neck, five-snap crotch. Lettering and ringer details are white. Specify body color: Heather Grey, Dark Red, Ocean Blue, Iceberg Green.

Adult Baby Military Hats. Irresistibly adorable little caps to adorn baby’s head – and strip former symbols of power of their masculine mystique. Cavalry Stetson is slightly too small for most adult heads, but has an adjustable chin strap; its signature badge and tassels are baby pink. Police-style Patrol Cap has black patent leather brim and strap, your choice of navy body with gold teddy button or powder blue body with rhinestone heart button. Sailor Hat in neatly starched white cotton has an embroidered anchor and pins to the hair at a jaunty angle.

Shooting Stars Spanker. Your little patriot probably associates stars with rewards for valor. Give him a gold star for naughtiness instead with this super-stingy spanking rod of flexible nanoplastic, which has cutout stars that leave a distinct red mark on his bottom. Specify color: light red, butter, sky.

Clothespin Soldiers. With the ideas he was given about masculinity, baby might struggle for a while to relax into doll play. Help him transition with a set of clothespin-doll toy soldiers! They’re modern spring clothespins with an extra steel rod to hold a wooden bead head. Little felt military uniforms and painted jackboots turn them into cute and classic toys – that have a pinchy bite sure to make his nipples snap to attention. Set of 6. Specify coat color: classic red, powder blue, or sparkle pink.

Tarpaulin Nursery Softies Gift Set. Whether he associates them with field tactics or camping, crinkly tarps are a sweet personalization for his new nursery! Two throw pillows with steel grommet corners and a folding nap mat are packed inside a toy box with matching upholstery, steel grommet finger loops, fitted lid. Specify blue plastic tarp, Olive Drab nylon canvas, or Tactical Black nylon canvas. The box arrives tied with a burlap ribbon that secures a miniature tarp teddy on top!

Tin Tank Baby Walker. Adult-sized version of a first-year essential shaped like an antique tank! Stand-up bouncer on locking casters has a stretchy-springy supporter in the middle. Lower your slave through the top hatch into the seat and let him push himself around with his knees, or lock the casters and tie his ankles to the eyebolts in the back of the play tray so he can’t reach the floor and has to stay where you put him. Play tray includes toy periscope, swiveling toy cannon, buttons to push that produce “whoosh” and “bang” noises, some interesting unmarked dials (they’re actually a thermometer/barometer), and a recessed slot for a snack, puzzle, or board book. Plastic and molded metal; specify color: buff, black, olive drab.

Cavalry Charge Play Set. Adult baby boy rides to the rescue! Spring-frame wooden bouncy horse has a screw port for a dildo at the rear of its saddle (and another one between the hind legs for display … or multi-slave play, for that matter). Slide your little man’s hole onto the dildo, hand him the vibrating rubber sword (don’t worry, it’s too flimsy for him to hurt himself!), and top off his look with baby cavalry hat and a white clip-on play cape attached to his nipples or onesie shoulders. Charge! Also includes a nylon Rocking Horse Girth in Tactical Black for keeping him on the horsie. Specify horse finish: white/red accents, pine/black accents, stained oak.

Soldier Peg Doll Anal Trainer. Special edition hole-gaping practice toy has five subtly contoured peg dolls in a row, from a two-inch cadet to a nine-inch general! It’s carved from smooth wood with a glossy wipe-clean finish that won’t absorb lube. Specify your peg soldiers’ painted uniforms: green forest camo, buff desert camo, black with gold accents.

#forgive the topical nature of this post #it's getting scary in here and baby Rosemary needs an outlet for her big scared feelings #gender affirming kink #or possibly bitter satire #forceregressed #forcemasc #cg/l blog #md/lb kink #dd/lb kink #humiliation kink #cnc agepl@y #@nal training #bd/sm babyboy #uniform kink #military kink #MURICA

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