#which that post got like a hundred ish notes

[orcelito]

Ok I edited an addendum to the original post to acknowledge the oversight hfjshfkhd which ppl aren't gonna see bc it's being passed around in reblogs but it'll make ME feel a bit better at least

[caelivir]

red lips, dying for a kiss | rayne ames

— synopsis. in which rayne discovers that red lip combos are his weakness.

— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader

— genres. university au, friends-ish to lovers, rayne has a little bit of a crush

— word count. 2.3k

— warnings. very brief violence mention in the beginning, alcohol consumption (rayne and reader are 21 in this), making out (i tried to keep it brief), ooc rayne but he’s kinda drunk so

— notes. breaking theme for this one but it’s okay. i wanted to drop this on valentine’s day… clearly that didn’t work out. also as i go to post this hidden lights reached 1k notes which is absolutely insane to think of. thank you for giving it so much love. anyway, happy 100 followers! thanks for sticking with me. enjoy!

dedicated to all the rayne girlies. i pray we find (or already have) a man like him. ♡

ryoh’s parties are always a bad idea. rayne can’t count the number of times something has gone wrong. cops show up. someone locks every single bathroom from the inside. a dumbass jumps off the roof and into the pool. any incident you could think of has probably happened. the last one rayne went to nearly got him screwed over when he fought against a guy picking on his brother, and it was not pretty (for the other guy) to say the least.

from that moment on, rayne had made the decision to never attend another one of ryoh’s parties. it doesn’t matter who begged him or what the circumstances were. no one was going to change his mind on that.

unfortunately, ryoh grantz would not have that. it took three days and a two hundred dollar bribe to convince rayne to go because who would he be if not taking advantage of the rich.

so that’s where he finds himself now, standing in a circle with his friends as music blasts in ryoh’s mansion. they talk about who knows what as rayne wishes he could go home. he has to see it out though because this would be the easiest two hundred dollars he would ever make.

his second red solo cup of the night is filled with some unknown (but surprisingly delicious) concoction that sits untouched. he swirls the cup around in his hand, his eyes darting around the room for an escape.

rayne chugs his entire drink down, setting the empty cup on the first surface he finds before mumbling an excuse of having to use the bathroom, not caring whether his friends heard it or not. he stops by the kitchen to rummage through a cooler, skin freezing as he digs through the ice. he finds two cans of a beer brand that he likes.

he weaves through the crowd in the living room, trying his best to not bump into anyone or spill any drinks because the last thing he needs is another altercation.

unfortunately for him, life always has a curveball in store for him.

“hey, look! (y/n)’s here!” someone had yelled, causing people to push closer towards the front door. the flow carries him closer despite his protests.

the half blonde finds you easily. it’s hard to miss your bright smile, even in a room surrounded by dozens. a crowd surrounds you and your group of friends. they greet you with hellos, offer drinks, and fight for your attention. you try your best to address everyone as you and your friends inch closer to the dance floor.

rayne knows you. your friend groups overlap often so he was bound to meet you at one point. you're popular around campus, known for your friendly nature, kind acts, and most of all, you're known for your beauty. he hears about a new attempt to gain your affection almost weekly. you never seem to accept them for some odd reason. it doesn't matter who it is. the d1 basketball prodigy? the rich girl in your philosophy class? they'd be rejected all the same. your lack of care for relationships has sparked up rumors, but even those never seem to faze you.

as for his opinion on you, rayne acutally likes you, which is a rare feat considering that the half-blonde cannot stand the presence of most people. but in this case, he likes you. he has the smallest of crushes that he wouldn't dare to admit to anyone except his brother, maybe.

in the times your paths had crossed, you had been an easy person to be around, never doing anything to irritate him and always trying to include him in every conversation and activity. it makes him feel all warm inside. the thought of it brings the ghost of a smile onto his face.

he also can't deny that you are indeed one of the most beautiful people that he's ever come across. you would have to be a fool to try and deny that. it's a little shallow on his part to like you partly for your looks, but he can't help it when your smile has the power to blind angels.

"rayne?" your head tilts, surprise written all over your face. he locates two shots in your hands. "woah, i'm surprised you're here! people said you wouldn't come to these anymore!"

rayne is barely to pick up the sound of your voice over all the music. "got paid to be here." he speaks loudly, avoiding yelling as much as he can.

"well, that's one way to get someone to come to a party." you giggle.

it's at this point where rayne closely inspects your face. his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips, colored in a combination of reds. he's never seen it on you before, and paired with the rest of the makeup on your face, it stands out, commands attention.

and it looks… really fucking good. rayne takes the sight of you in fully. yeah, you look really fucking good tonight. the half-blonde gulps, forcing his eyes back up to your face.

"take this with me!" you urge rayne, holding out a plastic shot glass to him.

unwilling to bring himself to say no to you, rayne sighs, accepting it. the two of you raise your glasses up in a silent toast before pressing the plastic to his lips, tilting his head back, and letting the alcohol slide down his throat. it burns. it tastes horrid on his tastebuds. the half-blonde scrunches his nose in disgust, and you take the empty glass from him, how you went unbothered by such a disgusting beverage is beyond him.

as much as rayne wishes he could be with you, he desperately longs to find someplace quiet. the bass of the music pounds against his head. "i'll see you around, (y/n). have fun tonight. be safe." rayne says.

"oh okay. see you rayne." you frown, but maybe that's just the lighting messing with him. he swears there's disappointment laced in your voice, but that could also just be the alcohol playing games with him.

rayne makes his way upstairs. he prays that he won't barge into people having sex. luckily for him, it's still early, and the room that he chooses, the one at the very end of the hall, is empty. he relaxes the moment he locks the door as if a weight was being lifted off him.

the half-blonde sets his unopened beers onto the nightstand and lies on the made bed. he stares at the ceiling for fifteen minutes, contemplating his life choices. his thoughts drift to you and your gorgeous lips, but he’s quick to dismiss them. when he’s finished with that, he cracks open his first beer, leaving a ring of condensation on the nightstand, and opens up his phone.

the next hour or so is spent watching compilations of bunnies and sipping on his beers. it’s perfectly fine like this. save for the bass of the music bouncing against the walls, it’s peaceful. he feels the effects of the alcohol he drank humming in his veins. it puts him into a lighter mood. however, that peace is disturbed when there’s a loud pounding on the door.

“what the hell?” rayne mumbles under his breath. did someone confuse this room for the bathroom? the half-blonde pulls himself out of bed, unlocks the door, and cracks it open just a little bit to see who it is.

“rayne, is that you? oh my god, please let me in.” you beg, clasping your hands together in prayer.

confused, but without any complaint, he allows you into the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

you practically collapse on the edge of the bed, and rayne can sense that something is amiss.

“are you alright?” he asks cautiously, standing a foot away from you.

“do you ever just get sick of people?” you ponder suddenly, shooting to sit straight up.

“sure.” rayne shrugs, still unmoving from his spot.

“you can’t tell anyone i told you this,” you point at him with narrowed eyes, voice slurred. “swear you won’t.”

“i won’t.”

“good.” you nod. “as i was saying, i get so sick of people sometimes. being popular is fucking exhausting. i don’t know how much longer i can keep up with this. i swear i can’t enjoy things on my own time without people barging in or commenting on it.

“i can’t sit on a couch to catch my breath without people wanting to talk to me. not that that’s bad of course, i love talking to people, but christ, just back up a bit. like can’t they just take a hint and realize that i don’t want to talk? do you get that?”

rayne nods. “must be rough.”

“it is,” you groan and then sigh, standing up to dust off your clothes. you stumble from dizziness after having gotten up too fast. however, you shake the feeling out. “sorry, i shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you. that was a stupid thing to complain about.”

“no, it wasn’t.” rayne argues. “people who are always in your space are fucking annoying. i would know so there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.” at this point, he could tell the alcohol is doing its number on him, making him more vocal and bold.

“do i annoy you, rayne?” you ask, eyelashes batting at him, this innocent worry behind your eyes. it drives him mad.

“no.” he says sternly, inching closer, his gaze falling to your crimson lips. that damn red lipstick. he wonders what would happen if he were to mess it up. what would happen if he were to ruin that precise lining of color? what you let him cross that line? in his tipsy state of mind, he wants to find out.

“are you sure? because i know whenever we see each other i kinda cling to you, but if that bothers you, just let me know. really it’s no-” you ramble before rayne cuts you off.

“i want to kiss you.” the half-blonde mutters. his eyes stare deep into your own. your eyebrows raise in shock.

"huh?"

"i want" rayne's hand flexes at his side as he exhales, resisting the urge to touch you. "to kiss you."

"why?" you whisper so quietly that he almost didn't hear you.

maybe this is a reckless decision. maybe he shouldn't be risking a friendship with a drunken mind, but honestly in the moment, he really couldn't care less. he can regret it in the morning if things fell apart.

"i like you." rayne admits.

a moment of silence falls onto the room. you stare and stare, sinking your eyes deep into rayne’s as his confession weighs further down onto you.

“oh thank god.” you exhale, pulling rayne in by his shirt.

rayne practically melts into the feeling of your lips, soft against his own. he can taste faint traces of alcohol on you. he places his hands on your hips to press your bodies together. his palms explore your figure, circling around your lower back, trailing upwards to your ribs and back down to your waist. your hands entangle themselves in his hair, eliciting a soft groan out of him.

kissing you is a feeling like no other. it’s straight euphoria, maybe even something greater than that. the butterflies flap violently on his stomach. fireworks ignite his blood. being with you is like soaring across the sky.

you deepen the kiss, exploring each other with such desperation that it makes you dizzy. his tongue moves against yours in perfect sync, as if it were a choreographed dance. by the time you pull away to catch air, you and rayne are breathless, huffing as the half-blonde rests his forehead against yours.

you beautiful red lipstick is now smeared across your mouth, staining at the corners and below the chin. rayne pulls his head back. his fingers graze over your lips, admiring the mess. he’s sure it transferred onto him as well.

“you got something right there.” you joke, pointing at him.

“shut up.” he whispers. however, a smile breaks out onto his face, betraying his words.

“so,” you say, snaking your arms around the half-blonde’s waist. “the rayne ames has a crush on me? i never thought i’d see the day.”

he hums as confirmation. “would i be wrong to guess that you like me too?”

“no.” you grin. “in fact, you’d be one hundred percent right.”

“wonderful.” he mutters, leaning in for another kiss. you turn your head, having him miss your mouth entirely.

“i’m starting to believe you only like me so you could have a make out partner.” you tease, causing the half-blonde to sigh at your antics.

“i like you because you’re kind.”

he pecks one cheek.

“because you’re fun.”

he pecks the other.

“because you’re intelligent.”

he presses his stained lips to your forehead.

“because you’re so beautiful.”

rayne kisses the tip of your nose.

“my beautiful, (y/n).” he mumbles with a barely noticeable slur, cupping your face.

“you should drink more often. i like this side of you.” you comment, looking up at him with a gaze that drives him crazy.

“please just let me kiss you again.” rayne quietly begs, his mouth centimeters from yours.

“kiss me whenever you want.” you whisper before colliding with him once more.

in the morning, ryoh has to pick the lock to get into the guest bedroom. he stumbles in pissed off and ready to blow up on the person who dared to put him through such a hassle.

however, the sight he walks into flips his mood instantly. ryoh finds you and rayne tangled in each other’s arms completely knocked out. upon closer inspection, he notes the matching lipstick stains on both of your mouths, and a knowing smirk spreads across his face.

the blonde man pulls out his phone, snapping pictures in different angles to solidify this moment in history.

“he better thank me for this.” ryoh says to himself before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

[prokopetz]

A question that's come up a few times regarding the revised draft of Eat God is how to come up with Expressions to go with your Forms. Some folks have gotten the idea that Expressions are meant to narrow the scope of your Forms by putting prescriptive boundaries on the circumstances under which they can be used, when in fact it's the opposite – they're meant to broaden the circumstances under which your Traits can be tagged for bonus dice by linking each one to a dimension of your character's personality; tagging a lot of Forms on tests relating to mental and social pursuits is going to be tough, but their Expressions give you added flexibility.

As a user on the Penguin King Games Discord aptly put it, Expressions reflect "[...] the lived experience of moving in the world in this particular muppet body". The current draft doesn't contain much by way of example, however (mostly owing to the Forms list not yet being finalised), so I thought I might offer a few examples here in case anyone would find that helpful. Here are some fairly prosaic examples of the sorts of Expressions one might attach to various Forms:

Bottomless Belly

Indulgent – You encourage people to try new experiences, culinary or otherwise.

Refined – That you can eat literally anything does not oblige you to be indiscriminate; perish forbid!

Firm Flesh

Patient – You've got all the time in the world.

Stubborn – You're hard-headed in more ways than one.

Hundred-Handed

Self-reliant – Who needs a helping hand when you've so many of your own?

Absent-minded – Sometimes the left hand really doesn't know what the right hand is doing.

Primordial Power (Fire)

Hot-blooded – Your feelings burn as hot as your flesh.

Fatalist – The flame that burns brightest burns briefest, and oh, you've burned so very bright.

Prismatic Pelt

Forthright – There's no sense being coy about your feelings when you literally wear them on your sleeve.

Unassuming – You prefer to fade into the background, both literally and metaphorically.

Superior Sense (Hearing and Touch)

Busybody – Oh, you know it's really none of your business, but you couldn't help but overhear...

Paranoid – Can anybody else hear that? How can they not hear that?

(You might notice that many of these pairs of examples adopt precisely opposite interpretations of the underlying Form – which is, of course, the whole point. The wordplay element of many of them is also encouraged, but by no means not mandatory.)

If anyone would like to try their hand at putting together some of their own examples, whether involving these Forms or any of the thirty-ish others in the game's current draft that I haven't covered here, please, feel free – I'd love to get other people's perspectives on how best to make use of this feature of the game's rules, and more worked examples is always better than fewer.

(Note: this brainstorming topic has been cross-posted to the Penguin King Games Discord if you're more comfortable posting over there.)

[billsbabydoll]

“𝒸𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃 ℴ𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝒿 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈.”

contains:SMUT<3

summary:while on my walk home, a very familiar cadillac pulls up beside me.rolling down the window calling out for me, my ex-boyfriend convinces me into his car for a quick “chat”.

WARNINGS:softdom!tom, sub!reader, light nipple play, pet-names, praising, blowjob, throat-fucking, make-out session, cat-calling, quickie, dry-humping, ex-sex.

notes:guys please excuse my last post im ovulating and i got horny in the middle of the night :3.

ugh today has been such a long and stressful day at work, finally im making my way back home, with music blasting in my ipod head-phones as i take in my surroundings, the orange sky and the sound of the city.

i was about 5-ish blocks away from my apartment before i randomly get the feeling of someone watching me and i was correct, i slowly turn my head over to the side of the road, taking a head-phone out of my ear and of course i see that stupid, ugly, pathetic cadillac i knew so annoyingly well and i instantly knew very well who eyes were watching me inside.

to no surprise he rolls the window down and stops the car, our eyes meet for the first time in 4 months.

“hii gorgeous, what are you doing baby?”he chuckles with that smug smile that i once absolutely adored, now only brutally hated.

i scoffed disgusted at his flirting, i decided to continue walking, putting my head-phone back in my ear.over my loud music i still managed hear his car driving slowly beside me and his long string of cat-calls.

“cmon doll, i’ll give you a ride!”

“schatzi (sweetheart), i know you hear me!”

“cmere, baby!”

“whats a pretty girl like you doing walking alone, it’s getting dark out y’know!”

i mean it was pushing 6:30 and the sun was already beginning to set, and i most definitely didnt wanna walk the rest of 5 blocks i had left on top of the 10 i already had walked.i sighed stopping right in my tracks taking my head-phones out of my ears and placing them in my tote-bag along with my ipod, before turning fully to the vehicle, signaling for him to unlock the door.

he smirked ignorantly, the door quickly unlocking with a switch of a button allowing me inside.i settle in the passenger’s seat, refusing to make eye-contact with him.

“how you been, i haven’t seen you since-well you know..”he questioned trying to make conversation as he began to drive again, his tone now more serious and gentle, taking note of my annoyed face and my refusal to meet his eyes.

“ive been okay just been busy with work, and you tom?” i replied obviously not interested in making small talk, especially with someone who dumped me.

“thats good, uh ive just been busy too with touring and promoting the new album, been thinkin’ about you a lot lately though schatz (sweetheart).”

“oh yeahh righttt.”i chuckle sarcastically, i know he had hundreds of girls throwing themselves at him everyday and night, heck they were even while we were together, there was absolutely no way he being honest.

“im serious, sometimes i ask myself why i let you go and, i mean really who would forget such a pretty girl like you hm?”he teased looking over to me, placing a hand on my thigh before looking back to the road ahead.

my heart begins to pump and race at the sudden contact of his large hand rubbing and softly gripping on my flesh, i could almost hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears.

i know i know what your thinking, and i was really struggling trying to maintain some sort of strength, i mean the guy dumped me!i also know hes just sweet-talking me like he always did but with someone so charming and handsome as THE tom kaulitz, it was like handing a child a huge lollipop and asking them not to eat it, absolutely impossible.

we sit in silence for another few minutes, still he continues to caress my thigh before he looks over to me again searching in my face for any sign of uncertainty or discomfort , to which he only finds willingness and desire.he nods, then proceeds to pull into an empty, quiet, hidden alleyway, parking the car before shutting off the ignition.

i waste no second more to quickly climb over to tom, straddling his lap my thighs resting on the sides of his own, capturing his lips into a hot kiss.he kisses back immediately toms hands finding their way effortlessly to my hips, helping me grind my clothed cunt against his urging length, creating a delicious friction.

we continue passionately making-out, our tongues swirling and intertwining perfectly into one-another.

as hes savoring the sweet taste of my lips, he removes his hands away from hips now using his left hand to lift up my skirt squeezing and slapping my delicate skin, his right hand finding its way inside my shirt, the tips of his fingers now rubbing fast circles on the buds of my tender breasts.

i moan lightly into his mouth, my eyes shutting as i take in the amazing sensation, my teeth biting down softly on his wet lips, my hips rocking recklessly against his seeking any further friction.

he pulls away from the kiss moaning and groaning with me, his cock begging to be released right at that instant.

“steig hinten ein, engel (get in the back, angel).”

i immediately comply, hopping off of his lap and climbing into the back seat, he follows shortly behind sitting down before going back to meeting his lips with mine.

he takes my hand in his and places it upon his groin, helping me begin to palm him through his baggy jeans, he groans into my mouth, his eye-brows furrowing together.

i take the lead now and pull away from his lips, looking into his eyes then looking down to his lap, i then lean over and quickly unbuckle his belt pulling his jeans down enough for his hardened length to be visible in his blue checkered boxers, begging to be pleased.i slip my hand in his underwear and pull his cock out, it swings out hitting his stomach before bouncing back up.

“your killing me here, c-cmon baby..”he whines impatiently.

i softly chuckle before i lowered my head down, my lips now not even an inch away from his leaky tip.i teasingly lick a few rings around his tip and lick up and down the sides of his shaft before i slowly take his length into my mouth.

he scoots up and relaxes his legs as he makes a make-shift pony tail out of my loose hair.i then begin to glide up and and down his cock, his tip once in a while kissing the back of throat.

“ohh f-fuckk keep sucking it that mmh-prinzessin (princess).”he praises, his head tilting backwards and hitting the headrest of the seat, his grip on hair becoming tighter.

i keep up a steady, quick, consistent pace throughout, using my left hand to stroke the extra inches i couldnt fit inside my mouth, i moan as i suck him off, sending high vibrations straight through his cock.

hes a complete groaning and whining mess, gripping my hair with one hand gripping the seat with the other.

“look ughh-into my eyes..”

“g-god i missed your fucking lips on my mmh-dick so much, doll.”

my watery eyes quickly looked up into his maintaining long eye-contact before looking back down.

he bucks his hips into my mouth seeking further relief, his orgasm coming in any moment now, his mouth hangs open mumbling desperate swears from his lips.he then grabs the sides of face with both of his hands and starts harshly fucking his cock into my throat.

i whimper as his tip rapidly stabs into the back of throat, my hands squeezing the leather of the seats, my eyes now crying from the brutality.

“f-fuck fuck im gonna cum!”

he announced before taking his length quickly out of my mouth and placing it on my blood-like-red lips.he pumps his length urgently, squeezing his eyes shut and with a primal grunt busts a fat load on my lips, covering my lips with his cum like lipgloss.

i lick the salty white substance from my lips, looking deeply into his eyes as i swallow, before an idea suddenly pops into my head-

“wanna finish this at my place, babe?”

“fuck yeah.”

THE END

[sleepy-platonic-yan]

(Platonic) Yandere Spirits + Teenage Reader.

Hello This Is My First Post. I Hope You Can Enjoy This And The Rest My Blog Will Have To Offer. Please Forgive Any Grammatical Errors.

Reader is gn, but the ghosts refer to them as their son—————

You and your mother had moved into a new house. After the tragic death of your brother and father, the house held way too many memories that made it so even walking down the hall could leave you sobbing.

Your mother wanted to really get away from it all, to go out in the country side and ‘blend with nature’, but that was not unexpected of her, she’s always been distant and ready to abandon things at a moments notice for work or her own personal desires. She would have put you and your brother up for adoption if it weren’t for your dad.

but at the end of the day all this really meant for you was that you have to do school online now cause mom bought a farm house in the middle of nowhere.

she made sure you were fine with it which was a bit unexpected, and at the time you really were! It’s just, the house was built in the Victorian era and had seen years of use, hundreds of families and many deaths. And although the house has had new things added like heating and hot water, the house freaked you out still is all.

As you pulled up to the house, its tall figure landing ominously against the moon in the sky, the house looks like it belongs in a horror movie. The large willow tree beside the house with a rope swing that sways in the wind making a ‘creeeek’ every once in a while doesn’t help either. You suck in a breath and don’t open your door, but your mother either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about your fear as she opens her door.

she goes to the back of the car and opens the trunk before shouting “(Readers name) get out of the car and carry your luggage! I ain’t carrying all of this” you mumble an affirmative and open your door. You keep an eyes on the swing, making a note of how it seems to have stopped for an odd amount of time before getting back into swinging ‘wind must be different over there?..’ you think.

you grab your one duffel bag and a few of moms bags before heading to the front door with her. The gravel path to the front door makes crunching noises with each step, making you hyper aware of how loud you’ve been since the second you got here. You shake your head, it’s fine. This is your house. ‘Is it tho?..’

As your mother grabs her key from her purse, you her a weird ‘crunch’ behind you, like the sound of something starting to walk up the path. You whip around but no one’s there. Damn, barely five minutes here and your already paranoid. Your mother opens the door and you walk in.

as you step in, you step into what seems to be the family room, wood floors throughout the house or as far as you can see. The room has a white couch with soft pink flowers as the pattern and white wood legs. That pattern stays with all the furniture in the family room. There is also a old-ish tv.

“hey mom, do you know why the previous owners left their stuff” you ask a bit suspicious, a huge house with good looking furniture selling for a absurdly low price yet it was on the market for months. There’s gotta be something off.

your mom shrugs and tells you it must just be because they don’t need them. You decide to just go with that. Yeah, they just didn’t need them. You and your mother walk around the first floor of the house a bit before ascending the stairs. The stairs are creaky and give a bit to much for your liking with each step. Again your mother doesn’t mind.

as you get to the next floor, it seems most of the rooms are old bedrooms. Your mother immediately goes to the master bedroom with a small yell of “just take any room, I don’t care”

as you look at the hall full of rooms, non seem particularly interesting or safe. You know you have to pick one tho so you peak in each.

Each room contains different items, but each have a painting of a different person. The only one the not have a creepy painting is one of the smallest, with no windows and the bare minimum items.

you end up picking the one that doesn’t have much furniture other then a bed and a desk. The desk is creaky and wobbles at the slightest push. As you toss your duffel bag on the bed the bed creaks loudly as well. You don’t mind, it’s better than being watched by a bunch of most likely dead guys.

You also don’t have much that you brought, so you don’t need much room. You lay down on the bed. This is fine, your just being paranoid.

as you sit down on the bed, or it’s yours now you suppose, you grab your phone from your jacket pocket. As you turn it on you are blinded for a minute by how bright it is, turning down the brightness, you quickly put in your passcode and flip to discord.

as you open up a group chat between you and a bunch of your friends, you begin to talk to them. You talk for a few hours, even hoping on call and showing them your room (they agree it has a creepy vibe to it), you finally say you have to go to sleep at around 3 am.

you remove the blanket that came from the house as you fear it could be moldy, so you’d prefer to just wash it. You take the duffel bag off the bed and open it, grabbing a blanket. The blanket that came with the house is admittedly much better, your blanket is thin and warm with a few holes. But never the less you turn off the lights and hurry back over the bed.

you realize a bit to late you didn’t change clothes, but in all honesty you don’t want to change in this house.

as you lay back on the bed with a creak, you can’t help but think you see things moving around in the darkness.

————

you wake up pretty late in the day. It’s summer break so you don’t have school, or else you would have never stayed up that late. As you sit up you notice oddly enough you’re covered in both blankets, not just yours. You could have sworn you just wore yours but but, uh you must have put it on in the middle of the night!

yeah, that’s what you did. You probably got cold, and put the thicker blanket on for warmth, and if you don’t remember it that’s fine.

As you sit up you notice something on your desk, a piece of paper with a cup of water. As you stand you walk over to the note, it’s from your mom

hey (reader’s nickname), I got a urgent call from work and i need to get back to the office by next week, and I have to leave now to make it. I know I said I work on line these days but they really need me. I know you’ll understand, your nearly a adult you can handle yourself for a few weeks, when I get home I’ll spend lots of time with you.

There’s money attached to the back of the note, and I put all our food from the car in the kitchen.

love - mom

You sigh. it’s always been like this. Seems no matter where you guys live, mom will never be home. You know she works hard but it feels she doesn’t see you as a priority.

although in the back of your mind you recognize the writing looks different then her writing, and she always signs off with her real name and not ‘mom’

As turn the paper around you see that yes, there is money, and it is way too much. 500 bucks. You blink. What. You shake your head, you are not using all of that. You remove the money from the paper and throw the letter in the trash.

For some reason you have a gut feeling not to leave your room. Something feels wrong with this house and it’s even worse with no one else here. You grab your phone again and hop on discord, as you talk to your friends you let them know where you live.

Turns out some friends you met online live real close to you, and they’re cool to come over tomorrow to hang out and keep you company till your mom gets home. You just have to survive today and tonight.

After your friends have to go you’re left sitting on your bed with nothing to do, so you remove the bigger blanket again and decide ‘hey, best way to lose time is to sleep!’ After a bit you slip into unconsciousness.

//change of POV//

as the many pairs of eyes watched their sons eyes close, they can’t help but coo

their sons ‘Mom’ is not fit clearly, so they had to step up. And so far they’ve been doing great, their lovely son is even gonna bring friends over to meet them!

their son is adorable. And all theirs

[batboyblog]

I feel like some people can't be/refuse to be educated, or they're deliberately being obtuse because they're trolls, psyops, or they just fell for the trolls and psyops. But its still good to point out where they're wrong and to give actual, you know, facts, for the benefit of other people reading who might actually be reachable.

yeah, I mean I usually ignore them because usually its bad faith and when a post is getting hundreds even thousands of notes in a day you just can't keep up with the 10-20-ish people who say something, particularly if its in the tags because thats just hard or fighting in the replies which always feels weird

But I was in a bad mood and in general seeing the same either bad faith or straight up don't know comment over and over and over again is very annoying

the "lol Joe Biden didn't do anything about Student loans!" one is pretty annoying since Biden has forgiven well over 100 BILLION dollars worth of student loan debt, so like he has done a lot on student loan debt. I'm not a big deal but I remember I did one of my "what Biden did this week" posts and it had the student loan debt forgiveness for people who got defrauded by the Art Institutes, and a few people added their stories of being defrauded and being in debt to AI for years and the one that'll stay with me was an older guy who went to try to get a new degree to get a job in a different field kinda late in the game, his 50s or 60s and of course didn't get the jobs he hoped for because scam college and saying how he thought he'd die in debt and it was all gone, all forgiven. So just like people flippantly dismissing a very real life changing thing is very annoying

there are a few other very common annoying ones "why didn't he do this when he controlled congress before!" well he was busy passing the biggest climate change bill any government on earth has ever done, investing in our Infrastructure for the first time since before Reagan was President (Reagan 😒) listen Biden passed 4 of the biggest most transformationally progressive bills the US has seen since LBJ

American Rescue Plan

Bipartisan Infrastructure Law

CHIPS and Science Act

Inflation Reduction Act

on top of which he passed the first gun control law out of congress in 30 years, and other things, like the Respect for Marriage Act to protect gay marriage, or making Juneteenth a federal holiday (the first new federal holiday since MLK day in 1983)

SO! thats why he didn't do the things he wants to do in his next term he was busy doing equally (and in the case of climate change more important) things and thats why we should all be hopeful if Joe Biden is President with a Democratic Congress he'll get most if not ALL the things on his agenda done, because he's fucking good at this, we haven't had a President this good at pushing bills through Congress and using every switch and lever of the federal government to make major progressive change since LBJ or FDR, I guess his big mistake was naming it something boring like "Inflation Reduction Act" and not something sexy like "New Deal" or "Great Society"

sorry to go off on a tare there, but its just frustrating to see 40 (out of tens of thousands really) posts saying the same dumb shit and having no real way to respond

[daistea]

Do you think Mithrun (even if much later on down the line, and also by extension Marcille too i guess?) ever return to a point where he'd be able to develop new desires at an easier rate like he might have in the past, or would he be permanently affected by having lost his previous desires in the first place?

Honestly, I think this is who he is now. I mean, if you think about it, he spent only 140-ish years as his old self and now has several hundred years left. This is now the majority of his future, and while I do think he’ll live well and continue to adapt and experience all the things he deserves, he’s still irrevocably changed.

(I’m making an effort to think about people who have been changed by trauma/accidents/disabilities and I wanna note that those changes arent necessarily bad. Despite everything, it’s still you 🎉 But at the same time I don’t want to ignore/be all sunshine and rainbows/toxic positivity about the difficulties and challenges they face. Sooooo basically, it’s a nuanced kinda thing)

On the developing desires subject, the details are fuzzy tbh. I wish we got more post canon stuff about him. I like to think that he’d make the choice with his desires. He’d choose which ones to cultivate, but even then it’s a struggle. He makes the conscious choice to live everyday. I, personally, don’t think he’d ever return to what one might consider ‘a normal person/life’

That’s not exactly what you’re asking tho, I know. But the subject is so twisty turny and complex that I honestly think his ability to develop new desires would change day by day.

Um if you want my Other opinion, the opinion that’s not affected by rose tinted shipping glasses; he doesn’t spontaneously develop new desires. A lot of them are gone, and he would make the decision to spend the rest of his life with someone simply because he’s comfortable with them, or likes their company, or they make a good team. He’s not unfeeling ofc, but that desire simply isn’t there anymore and he learns to adapt his lifestyle around that fact. There’s nothing bad about that, it just is. I think that’s a lovely thought! But this is just another way to interpret his character ofc and what you choose to believe is up to you.

puts my romance goggles back on

Yeah if you wanna headcanon that he develops new desires and that it gets easier as it goes on, then you go right ahead! That’s also a lovely thought 💕

I personally headcanon that it doesn’t get easier, but he makes the choice to keep going and to live all while developing the odd desire here and there(after a lot of work, which would make it all the more satisfying for him in the end anyway)

There’s good days and bad days! And there’s ants on him.

We’re all just playing dolls tbh, and while we wanna respect all that Mithrun’s canon character represents and stands for… If you wanna imagine him developing new desires at a faster/easier rate, then go for it lol

[wrencatte]

mini-fic 5!! (ish) Post-Survivor. Rambler Crew + Mantis Crew + Cal's ponchos. Omniscient POV. 1k words Reminder! I post these on my Ao3 as well (a day or so later), including an alt version of mini fic 3 that's Ao3 exclusive!

“That is not a good look.”

Cal frowns and looks down at his new poncho, stretching it out from the bottom to put it on full display. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It clashes with your hair,” Merrin says.

“Everything clashes with my hair.

“Well, that is worse.”

“It smells,” Greez complains. “Where did you find that thing, the garbage?!”

Cal grins. “Actually – .”

“Please no.”

“I found it in an oggdo abode.”

“And you put it on?” Greez demands in horror, his voice higher and squeakier than Cal’s ever heard it get before.

Cal stares at him for a long, long moment before he lets out a sharp giggle, and then that giggle turns into a full-on cackle. He falls against the bar top for support. The present cantina patrons watch in amusement and fondness as their resident Jedi turns red faced at the force of his laughter. They don’t get to hear him laugh very often, and the smell of his ‘new’ poncho is nearly worth it.

Greez isn’t done: “Why the hell is there even an oggdo on this planet? I thought we left that sithspawn on Bogano!”

“Maybe it followed you just as the boglings did,” Merrin suggests, patting Cal on the back as he wheezes. “Perhaps you missed it on the ship, it seems quite miss-able.” That, for some reason, just makes Cal start back up again, covering his face as his ears turn bright red. It’s a borderline hysterical laugh, but everyone very carefully avoids making note of that.

Greez points at her. “You, be quiet. And you.” He marches up to Cal and starts tugging on his ‘new’ poncho, but all he succeeds in is yanking the Jedi around while he smacks at the latero’s hands. “Take it off! I can’t have you stinkin’ up my saloon!”

“Hey! Hey! C’mon, it’s not that bad!”

“No, it is.”

“It really is, Cal.”

“Sorry, Red, but that thing smells worse than nekko crap.”

Cal turns to his gathered friends with betrayed tooka eyes. It really only works on Zygg, who immediately looks away, hiding her face with a hand so she’s not swayed by them. Mosey covers her nose for emphasis even though she’s smelled way worse on her own adventuring. She’s even said so and Cal swears a bilemaw smells worse than the oggdo did. Cal covers his heart in mock betrayal before all the pointed looks and disgusted expressions makes him reluctantly give in and pull off the pink poncho. He drops it into Greez’s waiting hands. He knows when he’s been outnumbered despite what some people would think.

“Good,” Greez says, holding it as far away from himself as possible. Which isn’t very far, but Cal counts that as pay back for making him take it off in the first place. “I’ll just…run this a couple hundred times in the washer and give it back – .”

“Tomorrow?” Cal asks hopefully where he’s started to rummage around in the bag he’s been carrying around lately. Says it’s a better place to put all the seed pods and priorite he’s been finding around Koboh. Merrin joked once that it was the perfect size to fit a fully grown bogling and he really just wanted to show it the scenery. Cal hadn’t denied it.

“Never?” Merrin suggests then laughs airily as she dodges one of the aforementioned seed pods Cal throws at her good-naturedly. BD-1 beeps his protest at the seed pod being treated like that, earning an apology from a suitably chastised Cal. “I am just saying, you’ve outgrown the ponchos, Cal. This style you’ve cultivated over the years is much better.”

“But they’re comfortable,” Cal complains, still rummaging.

…The bag isn’t that deep.

Mosey eyes him suspiciously even as she says, “I’ve got a couple’a ponchos you can have, Red. They were my pa’s, but I doubt he’d mind if you took ‘em off my hands. They’re good for the mountain trails since it gets cold up there. And they’ve been stored up all nice and clean.”

Cal flashes her a smile. “Thanks, Mosey, but no thanks. I’m all stocked up.” Everyone watches in horror as he pulls out another poncho. It’s not nearly as garish as the pink one, but it’s still ratty and smelly and Cal pulls it over his head with a bright, beaming grin. “See? Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved!” Greez shrieks, flinging the pink one away. “You brat! Are you kidding me right now?!”

“I have four more!” Cal declares proudly.

“No,” Merrin whispers, aghast.

Cal nods, his smile getting smug now. “Yes. A crate of them just sitting there. It looked like someone tried to set up camp and the oggdo took offense to it. You can take one, but you can’t take them all!”

“Merrin,” Greez says, voice low and serious. Cal looks at him, eyebrow raised in a challenge. The latero puts one set of hands on his hips and points at Cal. “Get him.”

Green magick flares but Cal is already running out the main door, cackling loudly as Merrin gives chase. The rest of them are left behind to stare at Cal’s bag still sitting on the ground.

“Do you really think he has four more?” Moran asks, clutching his drink to his chest. He’s looking a little pale.

“We could throw out the whole thing?” Ashe suggests. “He can collect more seeds later.”

“Doma would kill us for the priorite.”

“Kark, she would.”

Before any of them can make another suggestion, a little body dashes through, scoops the bag up to her chest and pauses, giving them all a good moment to really take in the sight of Kata looking at them all wide-eyed and innocent… wearing a smaller and cleaner poncho in her favorite shade of purple. BD jumps onto her back with a happy beep, and she grins brightly at them before she then – runs away, giggling.

Greez blinks once, twice, and then swears loudly.

“I knew it! I knew they were working together! Those, those brats!”

[orangerosebush]

I recently remembered the following scene in AF (book one) with Artemis, Butler, and Juliet:

“Well, the thing is, Artemis,” she said hesitantly, twisting a strand of blond hair in a way that several of the local louts considered extremely attractive. “The bit about leprechauns.”

Artemis frowned. It was a bad sign. “Your point, Juliet?”

“Well, leprechauns. You know they’re not real, don’t you?”

Butler winced. It was his fault really. He’d never got around to filling in his sister on the mission parameters.

Artemis scowled reprovingly at him.

“Butler hasn’t already talked to you about this?”

“No. Was he supposed to?”

“Yes, he certainly was. Perhaps he thought you’d laugh at him.”

Butler squirmed. That was exactly what he’d thought. Juliet was the only person alive who laughed at him with embarrassing regularity. Most other people did it once. Just once.

Artemis cleared his throat. “Let us proceed under the assumption that the fairy folk do exist, and that I am not a gibbering moron.”

Butler nodded weakly. Juliet was unconvinced."

Each time Juliet laughs at Butler in a way other people cannot, the teasing highlights that they have a relationship with one another that is different and closer than their relationship with other people in their lives, people whom the siblings would not allow that kind of liberty.

In contrast, look at how cautious Butler is with Artemis in that same scene from AF! Butler staying quiet and shifting his weight uncomfortably would neverrrr happen post-TEC, IMO.

Like, look at this scene from TLC:

“Butler glanced at a passing couple, who were bewitched by Spain and young love. The man had a camcorder slung round his neck. Butler fingered his third button guiltily.

‘We may have ruined a few honeymoon videos,’ he noted.

Artemis shrugged. ‘A small price to pay for my privacy.’

‘Was there a third point?’ asked Butler innocently.

‘Yes,’ said Artemis, a touch testily. Still no sign of the individual he was expecting. ‘I was about to say that if there is a gunman on one of these buildings, it’s that one directly to the rear. So you should stay behind me.’

Butler was the best bodyguard in the business, and even he couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure which rooftop a potential gunman would be on. ‘Go on. Tell me how you know. I know you’re dying to.’

‘Very well, since you ask. No sniper would position himself on the rooftop of Casa Milá, directly across the street, because it is open to the public and so his access and escape would probably be recorded.’

‘His or her,’ corrected Butler. ‘Most metal men are women these days.’

‘His or her,’ amended Artemis.

It's so fun to see how late- and post-series Artemis kind of occupies a similar(ish)** role as Juliet for Butler. Let me explain!

Butler is 18 years older than Juliet, and then 22/3 years older than Artemis. Not to mention, you have Artemis and Juliet having had either one or both of their respective parents absent for significant periods of time during their young lives. Although Butler was a guardian of Artemis at one point in time, there's a reason*** why the French translation of AF has Artemis use "vieux frère" for Butler. Artemis and Juliet exist for Butler in this nebulous category of younger sibling-slash-ward, and I think that complexity makes their importance to Butler all the more interesting.

** The whole "Artemis is technically Butler's boss and thus often is telling Butler what to do -- rather than the other way around" thing is a complicating factor when assessing exactly what is the character of familial dynamic they end up developing.

***Admittedly "ami" wouldn't have the same connotation as "old friend", but I do want to highlight the sense of brotherhood invoked in "vieux frère" -- even though I also recognize that "vieux frère" has kind of a continental, "old pal"-y feel to it, which is also why it's something Artemis would say, LOL!

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Summary: After the battle with the Red Death, Berk can swear they see a glint of resentment in Hiccup's eyes.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Berk

Pairing: /

Words: 1 327

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Thought of this dark(ish)!Hiccup fic that takes place shortly after Httyd 1 and promised to post it today. So here it is!

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

----------

Up until a few weeks ago, Berk looked at Hiccup very differently than they do now.

He was the runt of the litter. Though born first that year way back when he was also the smallest. Both physically and height-wise he's even smaller than the girls his age.

As the chief's son, he didn't really live up to the title of heir. He seemed to skirt as many responsibilities as he could and couldn't even show up to his job on time.

He stood out like a sore thumb, his strange thoughts and ideas made everyone around him uncomfortable. It always made them wonder what was going on in that boy’s head.

They were a warrior tribe fighting in a war against dragons, but this boy could barely lift up a bundle of swords and he was useless in battle. He would run rather than stand his ground. And when his father feared the day he would ever have to face a real fight, he was rightfully scared that Hiccup would meet his untimely demise very quickly.

Simply put; the boy was useless. An embarrassment. They all knew it and Hiccup never did anything in his life to disprove that.

Until dragon training began and Hiccup seemed to have a real knack for dragons. He became popular, going from that embarrassment to the top student and even got himself the final test to prove himself a champion; the honor of killing a Monstrous Nightmare.

That didn't happen, though. Instead his secret dragon friend, Toothless was outed and he got disowned. It was an exchange done in private, but everyone could tell from the look on Stoick's face, the one of devastation, regret, but ultimately decisive. This caused a string of events that led the Vikings of Berk to find Dragon Island and the nest within, which was a thing they tried to find long before Stoick was even born.

The dragons inside were numerous, in the hundreds, but the big boss of them all- a queen if you will- was almost as big as the mountain she resided in. Not even an army consisting of every able man and woman of the village of Berk and every catapult in their arsenal would be enough to slay a dragon of this size.

They were doomed, fated to be squashed and eaten. Then Hiccup and his Night Fury friend came along and that's when their opinion of the boy changed.

"He's a hero!" They sang his praises after the battle.

"He battled the biggest dragon in Viking history and won!"

He'd lost a leg after the ordeal, he'd remained in a death-like sleep for a little while. Some feared he would never awaken, others assumed someone capable of such tremendous feats would be just fine.

Then he woke up and Berk's opinion of the boy changed a third time.

Because now there's something... off... about him.

He's a smallish Viking tailed constantly by the Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself, who follows him as if he's the boy's shadow. Toothless is quite protective, nearly losing his human friend has taught him how much he doesn't want to lose him. There's something ominous about a young boy whose shadow constantly follows your every move.

When you see him out and about, there's this air of tiredness about him. It makes sense, according to Stoick, the boy barely sleeps. Night terrors are keeping him up at night. Terrible dreams about being burned alive that are so vivid he's said to wake up soaked in sweat and skin sensitive from an imaginary fire.

His lost leg has been a difficult adjustment. It's been a long and painful recovery, filled with all the tiny nuisances all the way up to the big problems. From slipping on patches of ice with his pegleg to excruciating pain confining him to his bed.

Then there are the responsibilities befitting the Hero of Berk, their Hope and their Pride. He's single-handedly responsible for the integration of every dragon that followed them home after the killing of the Red Death, the late tyrannical queen of the nest. There are over a hundred of them, it's a big responsibility for a boy dealing with the trauma of a battle, the loss of a leg, and his entire life being turned upside down. From the embarrassment of the village to their pride, it’s a strange and sudden change of heart.

It's much for an adult to deal with, let alone a young boy Hiccup's age, a teen.

So maybe that's why he's not just tired all the time, but angry as well.

It's not that he's throwing tantrums, it's not that he's snapping or shouting at random. There's just this undertone that people are never sure is really there until they hear someone else mention it. It's that his sass and sarcasm have a bite to it that wasn't there before. It's those moments in which he regards you with a silent seething. The anger is in the clenching of his teeth, the tension in his shoulders, the balling of his fists, in his eyes.

And everytime he's praised for his heroism, when his father's line "all we needed was a little bit more of Hiccup" is repeated back to him again, when his work with the dragons is questioned; that anger grows just a little bit more.

Hiccup is resentful.

Because his act of heroism stole his sleep and peace of mind, his innocence. He's a leg short and adjusting to it has been both arduous and painful. Each time someone is in need of his "Hiccupness ," he's reminded of the fact that it was not wanted before he lost all these things, before he proved to everyone that he's allowed to exist as well. And with every sleepless night, with every day spent confined to his bed, with every tumble into a pool of mud because of his pegleg, that resentment grows just a little bit more.

He didn't have to lose his leg. He didn't have to lose whatever little bit of childhood he could've still been holding onto prior to the Red Death. He didn’t need to know what it felt like to be burned alive. But he did and now he's suddenly accepted. All it took was for him to lose almost everything. But hey! At least the disownment was renounced.

Now can the rest of Berk tell? Does the baker read his mind when he and Toothless come for that day's bread? When the fisherman and his wife come to him with the complaint that a thunder of Terrible Terrors ate their latest catch. Do they see what he mourns? When a drunken guest at the Great Hall swings a friendly arm around him only to pull away when Toothless gives him an unfriendly glare. Does he just see the dragon's agitation or the boy's pleas to be left alone that triggered it? Or is it only the growing outer layer of anger that they all see? That slight unsettling feeling of looking at a boy who was once thought useless at worst and harmless at best.

And as for his father, he's still too over the moon with his son's accomplishments to see the growing darkness in the boy's heart, the illness in his mind. He's blind to what his village sees. Gobber sees it, but even he isn't sure how to tell Stoick.

What doesn't help either is Hiccup's connection with dragons. Because as that to the Vikings of Berk fades- with all but his five friends and fathers- the one with the dragons grows ever stronger. They're all he ever wants to surround himself with and they can hardly leave him alone.

So Berk leaves Hiccup be. They don't know what he's turning into. Will he remain their hero or become something else? All they can do is look away and pretend they don't see the resentment in the boy's eyes.

[miralines]

Before I say anything, I just want to inform you that I just randomly came across your post browsing the discourse tag for something else. I don't know who you are nor what's happening with ao3 users here. I don't know if you wanted a deep(ish)dive into someone's thoughts and reasons for choosing fics based on kudos and hits ratio, but 100% ignore if you didn't! Sorry if I am intruding by doing this!

I come from multiple giant fandoms and when there are multiple fic choices with tags and summaries that I like, I do choose to go by kudos and hits ratio. Just to pick which one to check out first. I did notice however, that in smaller fandoms or tags this couldn't be applied because there's not enough fics, so I just read what I'm interested in most.

Why? Kudos signify how enjoyed the fic is to me, because usually the more kudos it has the more talked about it is on other platforms. Why would that be important? It's just that I enjoy exploring content made by others after I'm up to date with a fic. It's really fun to see people talk, theorize, make art and speculate or scream over things that will or did happen. It's giving me an opportunity to find people with similar interests and see what they make overall!

Sometimes though, if fic in a fandom or a tag that's incredibly popular gets hundreds of hits and very few kudos, I choose not to read it. This is based on a few bad experiences I had giving those fics a chance, where something in them made me uncomfortable or hard to read. I don't have any very specific needs when I'm reading fics, I just enjoy reading as a part of enjoying the fandom, so when I see the general readers avoid giving kudos in fandoms where it's very usual to have a lot on fics, I don't want to read that fic for my enjoyment.

I really don't know much about this, I'm sorry! But yeah, I basically use kudos to hits ratio to oriantate myself and avoid something I wouldn't like based on previous correlations I made. I don't know if that's wrong or upsetting for others, but if you find it that way, I would like to know why too and improve! Sorry for any grammatical mistakes I made!

Oh hi anon! I wasn’t expecting anyone to reach out like this, but thank you for taking the time to write out your thoughts! (Also. Please do not feel the need to apologize for grammatical mistakes. I do not believe in ‘correct’ grammar; as long as I understood you, which I did, I think you’re absolutely fine and using language as it’s intended!) (I am. A particular kind of nerd and not policing grammar is something I have Opinions about hence this tangent lmao)

This got terribly long, so I’ve put a tldr above the cut and divided the rest under headers for ease of reading.

Tldr: I see your points with regard to differences between large and small fandoms, and with the specific goal of finding “sub-fandoms” for particular fics. I still disagree that kudos-to-hits ratio is the best way to decide what fics to read, both because it isn’t an accurate metric of engagement and because I dislike the idea of using engagement as the primary metric in the first place. When I use A03, I prefer to sort by what’s recent and use the tags and summary to decide what to read, or to use the (excellent) search function to find what I’m looking for specifically.

I’d also like to note to anyone else reading: I doubt this will be an issue, but if anyone is rude to anon I’m going to turn off reblogs on this post. I know this is something some people feel strongly about, and discussion is fine, but this is absolutely not worth being mean to another human about.

Size of fandom

To begin my more thorough response: This is an interesting perspective– not one I entirely agree with, but I can certainly see how in larger fandoms with a lot more content it would be valuable to be more selective. For context, my main fandom is an obscure storytelling band with under 3k total works on A03, and these days I mostly occupy a niche of that fandom (one specific album) with only 128 works. The largest fandom I’ve been active in currently has 37k works on A03.

I don’t know what your fandoms are, but as some examples of bigger fandoms, Star Trek currently has over 100k works, Supernatural has almost 300k, and Harry Potter has nearly 500k. That is a big difference! I’m currently working on a goal to read every fic in my 128-fic niche (with some exclusion criteria), but in larger fandoms it’s impossible not to be selective. This is all to say– I definitely agree with you that the size of a fandom impacts how a person can and does interact with it.

Fans of fics

Your point about wanting to interact with other fans of a particular fic also makes sense! There was a particular fic series in my largest fandom that had a pretty decent following, and I still have friends from that sub-fandom several years later. If this metric helps you find fics that match your goal of having that experience, I can see how the kudos-to-hits ratio could function as a potentially useful metric, though I still think its usefulness is a bit limited for reasons I’m about to go into.

Kudos-to-hits isn’t accurate

I have two reasons for thinking that kudos-to-hits ratio isn’t the best way to determine what to read. The first is purely numerical. If you’ve been watching this discourse, you’ve probably already seen people discussing how users can only leave a single kudos, but may be responsible for 20-plus hits on a work. This is especially applicable to multichapter works, which in my experience are the fics that are able to develop their own following. If you want to sort fics by engagement, it seems like at the very least, using comments for the ratio is a more accurate measurement.

Using engagement as a metric at all

Secondly, though, I (and I believe, a lot of people) dislike the notion of using engagement as a metric to measure fics in the first place. I think the current discourse is partially due to some regrettable phrasing on the part of the OP of the post I was vaguing– if I recall correctly, they said that they use this metric to determine if a fic is “worth reading”. I think this phrasing was hurtful to a lot of fic writers who may not have large followings or a lot of engagement, but who work very hard on their fics and feel frustrated that this person implied that they aren’t worth reading. I have fics that are personal favorites of mine, but that I haven’t gotten a lot of feedback on.

Of course, this is just part of writing, and it’s an important skill for any writer (of fic or anything else) to learn to handle rejection or just lack of feedback. But I also think that particular post was phrased in a thoughtless way that interacted poorly with pre-existing insecurities (this is part of why I suggested that post was bait– the phrasing seems to me like a perfect storm to make writers upset and defensive, but of course this could also be due to the OP just being a bit careless with their words, and not expecting to have hit quite nerve they did).

There’s an excellent post here on engagement on fics and what a realistic assessment of “successful” engagement metrics are based on professional standards (which includes a stat about how Harry Styles, one of the most popular and successful current celebrities, only gets a 1:30 ratio of likes to views on his social media. I don’t know what ratio you’re using, but iirc the post I was discussing suggested 1:10). Personally, though, I worry about both authors and readers depending too much on statistics, especially in a broader cultural context when it feels like everything is performed, measured, and monetized. Most social media platforms have gone from a place to share with friends to a place to compete for attention and make money and fame off it. There’s a lot of cultural anxiety around that at the moment, which is another reason I think this discussion has gotten so big.

Why I disagree with using engagement

I think this discussion, at its heart, is a debate about what fandom should be, and I feel focusing overmuch on engagement statistics contributes to a fandom culture uncomfortably close to the commercialization of everything else on the internet. I feel that fic should be enjoyed as art (whatever art means) and not as a product. I’m not saying you’re personally approaching fic that way, but unfortunately there does seem to be something of a broader trend towards that, which troubles me.

As a writer, I would hope that when people come across my fic, they give it a chance based on the metatext information I give them in the tags and summary, the quality of my writing, and whether my work matches what the reader is looking for. Judging it based on the numbers feels reductive to me, and makes me feel like nothing about the work or passion I put in matters; just the popularity. My fics aren’t going to be for everyone, and I understand that. If someone comes across my fic and decides they’re not interested, that’s their prerogative. But I hope that potential readers don’t discount my work just because it doesn’t meet a numerical standard that, in my opinion, is extremely arbitrary.

My suggestions for what to do instead

As a reader, I default to sorting by what’s been posted recently, and then using the tags and summary to decide what to read. That’s what those things are designed to be used for, and I think they’re much more informative than the stats. Worst-case scenario, I start reading and then go back to the search. All I’ve lost is a couple minutes.

In large fandoms, this might be an inefficient way to search for fic, and I recognize that. I’d encourage you to try using A03’s (fantastic) search function to find what you’re looking for– you can both include and exclude fandoms, characters, pairings, and tags. I have come across people who don’t realize that A03 has no algorithm, and haven’t realized they need to learn to use the search function. This is understandable, given the state of most of the internet and what these (often young) fans have learned to use before, but I think learning to search and filter is a vital skill to develop. I have no idea if you’re in this boat, anon, but if you are, please check out the search. It is, in my experience, the best way to find what you’re looking for on A03, and can at the very least supplement numbers-based selection.

Conclusion

I don’t think you have a moral responsibility to stop using engagement as a way to determine what you want to read. Frankly, this isn’t that important. I don’t think you even strictly need to stop using kudos as the measure instead of comments, though I think that would be more accurate if you do prefer to sort by engagement. But I do think you could be surprised at the hidden gems you could find if you didn’t limit yourself to only reading fics with high ratios. I don’t know the nature of your bad experiences in the past, and obviously how you use A03 is up to you. But I think there are better ways to decide what to read.

Thank you again for reaching out– you’ve helped me understand the other perspective as well! I really do appreciate your explanation. I hope I’ve been as respectful as you have, and that I’ve helped you understand where writers who share my opinion are coming from. If you’d like to continue talking about this or respond to any of my points, please feel free to shoot me another ask or a message. I hope you’re doing well and that you have a nice day!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

for the WIP ask game >_> "Pandora's Bastion" sounds so cool!

HECK YEAH I could talk about this one for HOURS

(sorry this took a million years to post, I am easily distracted and have the memory of a foghorn)

Okay, okay, so, like, it's a weird (ish) one, which is already saying something because most of my personal projects are some degree of strange, in one form or another (probably because I've had most of these as concepts for years at this point, and most of them at least partially stem from any combination of Gender Identity, Complicated Family Dynamics, and Mental Health)

This is also one that I haven't done anything concrete for other than note-taking, but there's still a lot of stuff in my brain about it. It's legit one of my longest existing ideas! This has been cooking since 2013! Since there's a lot I can say about it, I'm going to put a 'short' summary below, then expand upon it under a read-more :3

Summary: The last (known) Earth-born human, who has given up most of their humanity to stay alive centuries after the planet's 'death' (no longer viable for human life), discovers another of the lost "sleeper ships", AKA one of the vessels that humanity used to travel to other habitable planets. Inside is only one living human, Jeremy King*, who has a small connection to the protag's family. Unfortunately, he is unable to cope with how long he has been asleep for, and becomes the novel's antagonist, desperately attempting to reassemble any remaining pieces of Earth culture/history (even if it means dismantling the systems that have been built upon those remains). His knowledge of Earth is what allows him to pose a threat to the protag. However, he does not actually realize who the protag is until the very end of the book, at which point he experiences a breakdown. Going along with the themes of the novel (elaborated on under the cut), the protag decides to 'let go' of a piece of their immortality. *working name, of no relation to the several people with that name I found just now by googling

Protag Summary: In another (several) reference(s) to various pieces of religion/mythology, the protagonist has several names. It's also important to note that their gender identity, biological features, and other identifying traits are intentionally kept vague/unknown (you'll see why later). Most commonly, they are referred to as Legion ("My name is Legion, for we are many." -Mark, 5:9), but also answers to Nobody (Odyssey my beloved), Zero, and Unison. There might have been another name I am currently forgetting. Anyway, the main reason for that goes back to their form of immortality. The actual original Legion is in a form of cryosleep at the very heart of the titular Pandora's Bastion (originally called Pandora Station, before I got worried about the online radio service and copyright). The Legion that everyone knows... is actually several dozen cybernetically enhanced clones, that are all linked together and work in, you guessed it, perfect unison.

Read-more time!

The Setting, Universe: So, when I was younger, I was kind of obsessed with the idea of having this huge, branching story taking place over thousands of years. I called it Bloodlines, and it was split into three sort of sections: The Era of Earth (from roughly modern times to eh maybe a thousand years later?), The Span of Space (the first several hundred years after humanity leaves Earth, as they become a part of intergalactic society), and The Time of Triam (everything past that). Triam being the name of one of the most important characters in the whole series/a Goddess from an important Space Religion. Now, a lot has changed over time, and I'm still debating whether or not to break things up into more universes, because of conflicting ideas. But originally, Pandora's Bastion was going to be the only story that really involved all three sections, although it primarily takes place in The Time of Triam.

The Setting: The story mainly takes place around the titular Pandora Station/Pandora's Bastion. Originally, the name was chosen simply because I liked the sound of it, but I think in some ways it has actually become pretty fitting. Pandora Station is essentially a city built on/around a huge chunk of space rock (not big enough to be considered a moon, though I've considered changing it to be one). If you've played/know about the Mass Effect series, than know that Pandora was heavily inspired by Omega, to the point where the initial version was basically just "Omega but translated into my story universe". Honestly still needs more editing. The original (in canon) purpose of the city was mining/research, but it was abandoned after the research was completed. This was all conducted by one of the non-human species from the setting. Eventually, Legion's "sleeper ship" encountered the station, and Legion (who was already on the edge of what most would consider human at that point) moved in. A couple of decades later, a group of alien mercenaries decided to build upon the pre-existing structure, being unaware of Legion's presence in the heart of the city. Over time the city became a sort of haven for mercenaries, bounty hunters, criminals, and general misfits (think Omega from ME2/3, Knowhere from Marvel, or any part of Nar Shaddaa from SW). For a few hundred years prior to the official start of the story, the station/city has mainly been controlled by one lady, currently named Caldhrik Tarakova. She serves as an anti-hero of sorts throughout the Bloodlines storyverse, and is arguably Legion's closest ally, although even she isn't aware of Legion's status as being Technically Several Dozen People With A Hivemind (at least not at the start of the story). The two of them have a deal, with Legion supplying extra security and intel, while Caldhrik makes sure nobody tries to get into the maintenance areas of the city, since that's where they chill.

Legion's Backstory (More mythology references whoooo): So, as previously stated, Legion's birth name, gender, and race are all left intentionally unstated. The purpose behind this is that they act as a sort of representative of Earth, being the last Earth-born human alive (excluding Jeremy King, but they'll outlive him). I didn't want to have any sort of awkwardness where the symbolic vision of humanity is just, like, a white guy, or something. I can't find my notes about it, but there's supposed to be some stuff that encourages the reader to see Legion as a version of themselves. Honestly, I've sometimes wondered if the story would work better as a weird multi-media thing. Anyway, Legion was born on Earth a few years before their family left Earth. At that point in the setting, Earth was already going downhill fast, and space exploration was a HUGE thing. As Earth declined, however, there was a realization that it would be easier for the big companies to abandon the planet than to help heal it (there's a whole bunch of stuff that leads up to that, but it's mainly explored in Burn-Smoke, not Pandora's Bastion). So, naturally, they start fucking off into deep space, sending dozens of massive Sleeper Ships to planets that have the most potential for life, knowing the journeys will take close to a century. While this starts, huge conflicts break out among those left scrambling on Earth. Jeremy King was one of Legion's neighbors, and was deployed in combat not long before they were born. Various countries and their governments form alliances (some of them unlikely) to create more Sleeper Ships, forming gigantic waiting lists to ensure the "important people" get off world. Legion's family is fairly lucky, managing to get their household on one of the mid-tier ships (as time went on, the ships that were made lost quality, as the available resources diminished). Because of this mixed quality, the ship initially launched with most passengers awake (as opposed to being in cryosleep, as intended). By the time they enter the cryo pods, Legion is roughly 13-15. Again because of the lower quality, not all the systems are fully automated, requiring occasional human work. As part of an agreement made by the human passengers, the ship's AI (named Prometheus) occasionally wakes up a human, trains them in maintenance, and has them be a helper for 5-10 years before selecting a new human to take their place. The humans rotate out in such a way that there are actually usually 2 people awake at once, with one starting to train their replacement. Eventually, young Legion is selected, and spends several years with a kindly stranger as a mentor, before the mentor is returned to cryosleep. Not long afterwards, there's a disastrous malfunction, caused by impact with space debris. Most of the ship's power becomes limited, and Prometheus has to hurriedly teach Legion how to access and repair equipment that is meant to be fully automated. As things worsen, the AI is forced to decide which systems to cut power to, in order to A: ensure there's enough power left to complete repairs, B: ensure Legion survives long enough to make said repairs, and C: maximize how much of the ship and it's contents will survive.

Prometheus, although very conflicted about it, ends up needing to shut off most of the power to the cryo pods. Legion is able to complete repairs and reboot the system, but by then the damage is done, with most of the other passengers dead, and the rest with little to no chances of survival. Now essentially truly alone with an AI, Legion becomes devoted to going through the ship's digital archives, which contain immense records of Earth history, culture, and scientific marvels. The mentorship between Prometheus and Legion turns into a friendship, and eventually the two end up performing a merge (Prometheus getting linked into Legion's cybernetics), which they deem necessary as part of extending their lifespan (allowing them to finish what's left of their mission). By the time Legion reaches Pandora, they're fully accustomed to having a super computer for a brain.

Rough musings on themes: The story goes over the ideas of preservation vs adaptation, exploring the difference between upholding tradition and refusing to grow. Both J.K. (Jeremy King) and Legion are desperately grasping onto pieces of the past, with J.K. tearing apart the present for it, and Legion diluting both the past and themselves in an attempt to save even the smallest fragments. At the start, neither of them are fully accepting of the fact that humanity lives on through what it has become- not just by what remains of Earth. Both of them are relics of the past, but Legion (who has no actual memories of their homeworld) acts as a representation of future generations, of the sort of Mythological Children that we talk about when discussing the legacies we'll leave behind. (that is to say- what did J.K. and his generation leave for Legion to inherit? what culture, values, what problems? what did their fear and desperation instill in the last cradle of humanity?)

Anywho/anyhoo/anyho/anyhow/anyway (all of which I am fond of saying), this is already a mountain of information that probably actually says very little, and I could (and gladly would!) talk about it for even longer. But I think this is good for now :D

[thetragicallynerdy]

So I made it back to the gym for the first time in 4 (ish) years today! Hooray! For context, I used to powerlift pretty seriously, but got a bad concussion/brain injury 4-ish years ago and had to stop. While I still have a brain injury, I'm at a point where going back to the gym and trying to start lifting again (very lightly and slowly) feels okay.

I'm going to be doing a sort of journal on here, entirely for my own tracking/benefit, because I'm too lazy to journal things just for myself but will happily yeet it into the world. If you don't want to see this stuff and follow me, block #lifting . There's gonna be some technical stuff in here, feel free to ask questions as well if you want lol.

Some notes after today:

I'm doing stronglifts 5x5 - basically a very simple program of back squats/bench press/barbell rows on day 1, and bench press/deadlifts/overhead press on day 2. 5 sets of 5 reps for each lift, some stretching pre/post, and home.

I got in and out with stretching in just under an hour, which was the goal! I wanted to be able to stay an hour, and I did, which is rad.

Sensory wise the gym is a bit of a nightmare, but wearing a ballcap for light and noise canceling earbuds helped, as did going during the day when it's less busy. It's definitely busier during the day than it was pre-covid, possibly due to ppl working at home and being able to duck out. But I didn't have to wait for a rack/bench at all which was great.

I lifted really light - just the bar for all three lifts (45lbs for the uninitiated). I still came home with a pressure headache, which is definitely from doing actual lifting. It wasn't bad enough to not go, and has subsided to something really managable with rest and food, but something to watch for. I think I need to watch my breathing more too, especially on squats, because it's still instinctual to try and do the valsalva maneuver while doing a lift - which puts a ton of pressure on my head and is very unhelpful. Gotta breathe through the lift! I came home with some neck pain too, which I suspect is from rows.

Squats - definitely the worst on my head. (And by that I mean not 'mental game' but 'headache/brain injury wise'.) I did squats first, and next time I'll save them for last because I am 90% sure that's where most of the pressure headache came from. Moved well, though, much better than air squats at home do which is hilarious. I did low bar, which I think will be necessary for avoiding neck pain.

Bench - felt great. Bench is my weakest lift traditionally, but it was by far the easiest on my head - potentially due to the combo of stability from lying down during, and having a stable place to sit after, as well as less full body movement (which leads to less fatigue, etc). Might have to try sitting on the ground between squats instead of on the rack to see if that helps.

Barbell rows - eh. They were fine. Harder on my neck and lower back. A bit more of a struggle form-wise.

Weight wise - I think it's going to be a bit of a mental game to not push myself to lift more. Physically I can lift a lot more weight than my head can handle, as heavier lifts lead to more pressure on the head. Squats today felt super easy in terms of actually moving the weight, and so did bench. But having a disability means being really careful moving forward and adding weight to my lifts. Which sucks, and is something I'm probably going to be navigating feelings around for a while - I want to be able to do so much more than I can. Complicated grief even while returning to a beloved activity, etc etc.

There's also the aspect of "last time I was here I could lift several hundred pounds, and now I'm back down to the naked bar", which kind of feels shitty (even though I know why, and am super proud I'm back at the gym at all). I'm also aware of an aspect of it that's connected to like, being read as a woman at the gym, and expectations that women lift less. Which is weird, but an aspect of it.

Anyway - all told, it went good, about as well as I'd expected if not as easy as I'd hoped. I'm curious to see how deadlifts etc go when I go back (either later this week, or early next week - the goal is 1-2 times per week). I think that honestly even if it ends up that I can just do bench and some other upper body/seated stuff (there's a lot of machines, even if I prefer free weights), that would be better than the nothing I've been doing. I'm really glad I made it back, even though it feels like it's going to be a long slog to get anywhere close to where I used to be (which might not even happen). Anyway. Yay lifting! Yay being a gym bro again!

[senashenta]

Horror High: Chapter Ten

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Here we are, at the last chapter, for those few of you who actually stuck it out with me! A fluff and smut chapter with a high-ish note ending for you. And I have several follow-up one-shots to post after this as well, so I’ll be posting the first one, Cheap Motel, in a couple of weeks—or maybe sooner, if the mood strikes me, so keep a look out. <3

Thank you to those of you who actually DID read all of Horror High, and especially those who left comments or kudos. There weren’t many of you, and I appreciate you all. After the follow-up one-shots, there’s an actual SEQUEL to Horror High in the works, Storm Season, which will have chapters like Horror High has, but it’s somewhat important that you read the one-shots because Storm Season directly hinges on the last one.

Unless. Unless you don’t like smut, in which case avoid the one-shots like your life DEPENDS ON IT. They are insanely smutty, for the most part. :|

Anyway, thanks again! See you in a couple of weeks! :D

ALSO ON AO3 IF YOU'D RATHER. <3

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Ten By Senashenta

The next day Cas let himself sleep in until almost eleven o’clock. He was feeling much better, true, but he wasn’t back to one hundred percent yet, and Dean was right that he needed his rest.

When he came downstairs after getting ready for the day it was almost noon, and his father gave him a surveying look as if he was making sure Cas wasn’t still ‘sick.’ Evidently, he decided that his son was alright, because he didn’t actually say anything except to ask what Cas wanted for lunch.

After lunch, Cas spent a couple of hours working on homework to finish it off, because he knew he was going to be busy that night into the next day. He listened to music on his mp3 player (Dean had yet to make him a playlist, too distracted by the whole jorogumo thing) while he worked.

Around four, his father called up to him to tell him that Dean was at the door, and Cas dropped what he was doing to hurry downstairs and pull the older boy inside, dragging him into a pleasant, warm kiss. “Hi.” He said with a smile when they parted.

Dean just smiled back at him. “Hey.”

“Boys, please close the door, we’re not trying to air condition all of Florida.” Chuck called over from the living room.

“Sorry, Chuck!” Dean called back and reached over with his free hand to swing the door closed behind himself before returning his attention to Cas. “Well, you certainly seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed. He adjusted himself to slide his arms around Dean’s waist a moment later, the smile still on his face. “I’m going on a date today. It’s kind of a big first for me.”

“Was that today?” Dean laughed and slid his own arms around Cas as well. “I told you, I’ve never really been on a date either. Not a real one. Not one that mattered, anyway.” Then a fond look and he added, “this one matters.”

The two of them stood there by the door together until Chuck finally told them to just go upstairs, already, at which point they climbed the stairs and ducked into Cas’s bedroom, heading over to climb into the bed, Dean on his back and Cas tucked into his side comfortably. They didn’t talk much, instead just soaking each other in in silence, enjoying each other’s company, just the fact that they were both there. Something they were both going to miss immensely.

About an hour later, Cas patted a hand on Dean’s chest and informed him that it was time for them to leave—they had to walk to Maggie’s Diner and at this rate they wouldn’t make it before the place closed for the night. Normally he would have been fine with just staying cuddled up with Dean for the rest of the day, but today they actually had real plans.

Despite their best efforts, it still took another half an hour for them to get out the door because they got waylaid by a minor make-out session before they left the comfort of Cas’s bed. But once they did get moving, they were downstairs and out the door in five minutes flat, with just a brief pause to tell Chuck where they were headed.

The walk to Maggie’s took about an hour, but only because they got a little lost along the way. They did eventually make it there, though, and Dean seemed pleased by what he saw: cushy booths, retro décor and even an old school jukebox in the corner. Cas wasn’t particularly familiar with diners, so he just took Dean’s word that it was a good one.

They found a booth along the back wall and slid into their seats, facing each other because they couldn’t be counted on to keep their hands to themselves, and the waitress came by quickly to drop off menus and take their drink orders, returning a short time later with their drinks and to take their food orders.

Once their food arrived Dean began eating like he was starving, the same as always, while Cas just smiled into his drink at the sight.

“So how are you liking your first date, so far?” Dean asked when he took a break from his burger for a drink of his cola.

“It’s good.” Cas was mostly finished with his own burger and picking at his fries now, “it’s just nice to spend time with you, though. It’s always nice to spend time with you.”

Dean gave him a smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“You’ve been a lot of firsts for me, you know.” Cas admitted softly, “first date, yes, but also first friend at Caspar… first boyfriend. First relationship at all. First kiss. First… time.” It was no wonder that Dean meant so much to him, given how many firsts he’d had with the other boy. Cas smiled absently, eyes on the plate of fries in front of him. Then his smile widened a little and he glanced up before adding, “first monster Hunt.”

Dean frowned at him just slightly, halfway to a bite of cheeseburger. “Not funny.”

“I thought it was funny.” When Dean continued to frown at him, Cas sighed, “I guess we’re not to the point we can joke about it, yet.”

“It’s only been like a week.” Dean pointed out, this time around a bite of burger, “you’re still hurt. No joking until the hurt is gone.”

“…okay.” Cas finally agreed, and went back to eating his food, “sorry.”

“Don’t gotta apologize.” The older boy shrugged and reached across the table to snag a couple of fries off Cas’s plate. He had already finished his own. Dean’s appetite would never fail to amaze him. “And we can talk about all that other stuff, if you want.”

Cas tilted his head slightly, curiously, and asked, “why did you approach me… on that first day, in the cafeteria?”

“Because…” Dean paused with a fry halfway to his mouth and frowned slightly before giving him a frankly adorable grin; “because you were cute.”

“Dean, you’d never liked a guy before. You can’t say you took one look at me and instantly turned gay.”

“Bi.” Dean corrected, “and I’ve always been, I just… never acted on it before. Also, you looked really lost, and I knew exactly the kind of shit those assholes were going to try to pull at lunch. I couldn’t ignore that.” He shrugged, but then gave Cas a genuine smile again, “but yeah… Cas, I liked you right from the start. Why do you think I started walking you home and everything?”

“But… I kissed you, first.” Cas stated almost blankly.

Another shrug. “I would’ve made a move, you just beat me to it.”

Cas was completely blindsided by this new information. He just stared at Dean for the longest time, trying to digest everything he had just learned, while Dean continued to help himself to Cas’s not-quite-leftover fries. And he had been nervous about his crush on Dean. Worried about how the other teen would respond when he found out. And all along, Dean had been…

That was about when the waitress, blonde and pretty, approached the table again. Dean was still pilfering fries, but looked up long enough to give her a winning smile and ask, “do you guys have pie?”

“Cherry or apple, hon?” She smiled back.

Cas privately didn’t like the way she was smiling at his boyfriend but kept it to himself. He knew it was her job to be friendly. Dean just tipped his head and said, “oh, definitely cherry.”

“I can do that, sweetheart.”

Dean grinned up at her. “Thanks.”

“Stop flirting with the waitress.” Cas finally muttered with a small frown.

Dean blinked slightly and returned his attention to Cas, looking surprised, even as the waitress gave Cas a knowing little smile and told him in an almost conspiratorial whisper, “don’t worry about it, darlin’, your boyfriend here’s obviously only got eyes for you.” Then she spun around and headed off, presumably to get Dean a slice of pie.

Cas watched her leave, still frowning a bit, before looking back at Dean. “Sorry.”

But Dean was just regarding him with the utmost fondness in his eyes. He grabbed Cas’s plate and shoved it to the side, then reached across the table to take hold of one of Cas’s hands, squeezing gently. “You’re totally jealous right now.”

“I—” Cas wanted to deny it, but it was pretty obvious. He frowned some more. “Stop flirting with the waitress and I’ll stop being jealous.”

“I wasn’t! …at least not on purpose. Was I?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, I mean, that’s just kind of bad habit I picked up on the road.” Dean gave him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”

Jealousy was a new emotion for Cas. He had never been in a relationship that might require it, until now. It was strange and awkward and an uncomfortable feeling deep in his chest. He didn’t like it—but at the same time, he couldn’t exactly help it, either. “I’m not mad,” He said quietly after a brief consideration. He moved his hand in Dean’s, threading their fingers together, “just try not to do it anymore when I’m around? It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like it.”

“I really am sorry. I won’t do it again.” Another apology. Dean squeezed his hand again. “You know you’re it for me, Cas.”

Cas glanced down, then back up with a little smile. “I know. Same.” Then a pause before; “you ate all my french fries, Dean.”

Dean laughed and grinned. “I’ll share my pie with you. And trust me when I say that’s not something I offer up lightly.”

Cas gave a soft chuckle at that. “I know about your legendary love of pie.”

“Legendary?”

“According to Sam, yes.”

“I’m not that bad.” Dean protested.

“You are.” Cas confirmed, but then allowed softly, “but I understand why.”

They continued talking, just quietly between themselves, and when the waitress brought the pie around, she winked at Cas, not Dean. Cas just blinked back at her, and she walked away laughing. Dean grinned over the entire scene before handing Cas a fork and waving for him to have the first bite—which Cas did, but then left the entire rest of the slice of pie for Dean, because he was obviously having a torrid love affair with it and Cas couldn’t bring himself to break up the party.

When they were finished with their food and Dean had paid the bill, they vacated Maggie’s and headed out into the evening air. The sun would go down in an hour or so, but for now they had the last bit of daylight to enjoy before the stars came out in full force. But either way was fine with them, really.

They wandered the streets for a while after that, just randomly, enjoying each other’s company, talking and laughing—until they realized they were completely lost and had to use the maps feature on Cas’s phone to find their way back to his street. Even having lived there for a couple of months, neither of them had any clue of the layout of the city, not really.

“I recognize this street,” Dean declared finally, after what felt like hours of walking around in circles. Not that it had been unpleasant, the entire idea had been for them to go for a walk together, like a ‘normal’ couple, and just pretend that everything wasn’t as screwed up as it actually was in reality, but they did have to get back to Cas’s place at some point.

Now they were on Lachley Street, which was only a couple of streets off of James, which crossed King, which of course was the one Cas lived on. Cas put his phone (and its’ maps) away and reached to take hold of Dean’s hand again with a hum. By now the sun had well and truly abandoned them and they were walking by the moonlight alone, not that that was a problem for either of them.

“When you leave,” Cas said after another half-block of walking in silence, “will you say goodbye?”

“What? Why would you even—” Dean cut himself off with a shake of his head and offered a smile, “of course, Cas.”

“Promise?” Cas tightened his hand in Dean’s slightly. For some reason, this felt important. The idea of Dean taking off without even seeking him out to say a final goodbye made something in his gut clench up. Was almost painful. “I don’t want you to go without saying goodbye first.”

“Cas,” Dean tugged him to a stop and pulled him in to bump their foreheads together lightly, “I promise, okay?”

Cas just looked at him for the longest time before nodding. “Okay.”

A little, gentle kiss. “Okay. Now lets’ get back to your place. It’s getting late.”

The younger boy smiled again, just a little, fond quirk of his lips, and they headed off.

-- --

When they got back to Cas’s house it was after nine o’clock and Cas just went straight inside, pulling Dean along with him. There was no standing around on the front porch exchanging little, lingering kisses until Dean finally had to leave like usual. Cas’s father was in the living room watching television and glanced over when they came in the door. He paused when he saw Dean and raised an eyebrow.

“Hello, Dean.” He was more a question than a statement.

“Hi, Chuck,” Dean greeted, not quite meeting his eyes.

Chuck turned his gaze to Cas, who just said, “we’re going upstairs,” and then followed that up by stating matter-of-factly; “Dean is staying the night.”

Chuck made a surprised noise. “Cas—”

“I’ll be eighteen in six months, Father.” Cas had already taken his shoes off and urged Dean to do the same, though Dean was hesitating because he was half expecting to get kicked out any minute now. “I’m old enough for my boyfriend to sleep over.” Then, after a pause, “besides, it’s not like we haven’t already done things. You’d be a little too late to stop us, now.”

Chuck’s eyebrows practically shot into his hairline, and he asked, half-seriously, “who are you and what have you done with Castiel?”

Cas actually smiled at that. “I’m growing up. I think it’s about time.”

There was a long, drawn-out silence, and then Chuck waved a hand and turned his attention back to the television. Cas finally got Dean to take his shoes off and they headed upstairs—only for Chuck to call out, when they were halfway up the staircase, “USE A CONDOM!” And then; “DO YOU HAVE CONDOMS? I CAN GIVE YOU SOME MORE IF YOU DON’T HAVE ANY—”

“NO!” Cas half-tripped over a step, face turning red, and called back, “we’re good, thanks!” Then he hurried the rest of the way up the stairs and hustled Dean into his room, closing the door firmly behind them before his father could say anything else. That had been embarrassing to say the least.

Safely inside his room, Cas leaned back against the closed door for a moment to catch his breath. His father had always been one to tease, but that was excessive even for him. Meanwhile, Dean just shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the desk chair like usual, then wandered over to the chronically-unmade bed and climbed in, settling himself amongst the pillows and blankets and patting one hand against the spot beside him, waiting for Cas to join him.

Once he wasn’t quite so red in the face, Cas pushed away from the door and headed over to crawl into the bed with Dean, settling beside him with a little pleased noise, one arm curled up so he could toy with the front of the older boy’s shirt like usual and his head pillowed on Dean’s shoulder comfortably.

“I’m sorry about my Father.” He apologized after a moment.

“Chuck is… a lot, sometimes.” Dean agreed, grinning up at the ceiling. “But he’s nice, and he obviously cares about you. I think he’s a good Dad. You’re lucky. There are a lot of people out there with way shittier parents than you have.”

Cas supposed that was true. His fingers traced little, absent circles over Dean’s chest, and he glanced up at him slightly. “You almost sound jealous.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love my Dad, and I respect the shit outta him.” Dean’s eyes flitted away from the ceiling, down to Cas, and he smiled, “but sometimes I do wish I’d had a more… normal. Childhood. That everything with Mom never happened and me n’ Sammy just got to grow up like regular kids.”

“I understand. You’ve had to go through terrible things.” Cas’s fingers paused and his hand smoothed out over Dean’s chest, “but you know, if you’d had a normal upbringing, we never would have met. Just like if I hadn’t moved around so much with my Father, same thing. So at least one good thing came out of it all, right?”

There was something fond in Dean’s eyes when he leaned in for a kiss. “Right.”

Cas echoed that fondness in the kisses that followed, deep and slow and progressively more heated until they had to break apart to catch their breaths and Dean took the opportunity to gently push Cas down onto his back and settle over him, careful of his ribs the entire time.

And that was the thing with Dean—he always took special care not to hurt Cas in any way, especially now that he was injured. He was always gentle and careful in everything they did, which was why Cas had no reservations about being in bed with him, even though he was still technically wounded. Dean would never do anything to hurt him. Dean cared about him too much for that, and Cas trusted him implicitly because of it.

Now he sank down onto his back, letting Dean come to rest comfortably overtop of him, and looped one arm around the older teen’s neck to pull him down for more kisses—because kissing Dean was warm and deliciously addictive, and he never wanted to stop once they got started.

Dean just settled with his weight resting on his forearms, holding most of his bulk off Cas’s chest, even though Cas would have been more than fine with Dean all but crushing him. The closer he got to the other boy the better, as far as he was concerned, which was pretty much why he let go of his grip on Dean’s neck and slid both his hands down to grab at Dean’s shirt, rucking it up and pulling at it until Dean finally broke off the kissing and sat up long enough to strip it off properly, tossing it to the side a second later.

Cas took a breath to just look at him, hands wandering up Dean’s abdomen to his chest and then farther until he could cup his jaw and drag him down for another kiss. “Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?”

A muffled chuckle against his lips. “Beautiful is for chicks, Cas.”

“I don’t think that’s true. You call me beautiful.”

“That’s different.” Dean didn’t offer any real explanation, just began trailing his lips along Cas’s jaw and Cas tilted his head to make it easier, even as Dean’s hands started pulling at his shirt. Cas pushed him back for a moment to wiggle out of it, discarding it afterward. Then he just pulled Dean back down to kiss him again.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” One of Dean’s hands had come to rest on the bandages that still covered his ribs and concern tinged his voice.

Cas sighed and kissed him again. “Are you planning on hurting me?”

A frown against his lips. “Of course not.”

Another kiss. “Then we absolutely should be doing this.”

Because they might not have another chance, and Cas was damned if he was going to let this one slip through his fingers. As much as they talked about meeting up after Dean left Jacksonville, it couldn’t be guaranteed, and if this was all he could have of Dean he was going to take it and run.

Dean understood that, even if he didn’t say as much out loud. Instead, he just returned Cas’s kisses, propped on one elbow and the other hand sliding in between them to fumble with the button and zip on Cas’s jeans. He wasn’t getting very far one-handed, though, and finally Cas batted him away and just undid them himself, then quickly moved on to doing the same for Dean’s pants, pushing them down over his hips a moment later.

The older boy was back to kissing along is jaw and throat, nipping at the crook of his neck, and muttered, “I think we’re gonna have to get up to get the rest off.”

Cas laughed softly, just the slightest bit breathless, and pushed a hand against Dean’s chest, easing him back. “Up.”

Dean gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m already up.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “You’re horrible. Just take your clothes off before I change my mind.”

So, Dean rolled out of the bed to strip his pants and boxers off, while Cas just stayed where he was and shimmied out of his own jeans and boxers, kicking them off the end of the bed when he was done. Then he closed his eyes and slid one hand up to give his already aching cock a few cursory strokes, just to take the edge off, his head falling back, blue eyes closing over and a low groan in his throat.

When he opened his eyes again and glanced at Dean, the older boy was looking at him the way a starving dog would eye a porterhouse steak, gaze intense, absolutely riveted. Cas licked his lips and held a hand out invitingly. “Come here, Dean.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He practically dove at the bed, and Cas laughed while Dean climbed over him, Cas easing his legs apart so Dean could settle between them. Cas moaned softly at the feeling of Dean’s cock pressing against his own and let his head fall back again, even as the other teen began grinding into him, all hard heat and slick precum, the drag and friction just this side of painful and all the more delicious because of it.

One hand grabbing at the sheets, Cas wrapped the other arm around Dean and dug his fingers in, kneading for a moment before dragging his fingers down to the small of his back, his head still back and Dean mouthing at his throat, muttering quiet curses under his breath in between the kisses.

After a couple of minutes of that, Cas finally slid his hand around to Dean’s hip, patting there urgently before stretching—with only the faintest of winces when the motion pulled his wounds—and fumbling in the nightstand. He pulled out the tube of lubricant and pushed Dean back, shoving it into his hand. Dean swore, but his hips stopped moving and he sat back a bit. And then—

“Where’s the condom?” Dean asked, still breathing hard and staring at the lube almost blankly.

“Dean… you already swallowed, remember? And so did I, kind of. I think we’re past that.”

“I—” He couldn’t really dispute that, but still. “Are you sure?”

Cas gave him an overly fond look, “are you having sex with anyone else?”

“Well. I mean. No. Of course not. Not for like a year, almost. And I was safe then, too. But no, you’re the only one I—” And then, again, “no, I’m not.”

“Then, I’m sure.”

“Your Dad very specifically told us to use a condom, you know. Yelled it, in fact.”

“He doesn’t need to know, does he?”

“Cas…”

“Dean.” And then a pause, and Cas tilted his head and asked, “would you rather we used one?”

“I just… I don’t want to screw things up between us, and this seems like a big deal.”

Cas regarded him fondly for a few breaths, then just stretched to reach into the beside table drawer again and pulled out a condom, holding it out for Dean to take. “Here.”

“Really?” Dean took the condom, already looking relieved.

“Yes, of course really.” Cas confirmed. It may not have made logical sense to him, but he didn’t want Dean to be uncomfortable. Cas reached to drag him into a kiss and Dean went willingly, already relaxing against him again. “I just want you to enjoy this as much as I do.”

“I will.” Dean promised with a grin, already opening the lubricant and smearing a good amount onto his fingers, condom discarded safely to the side for the time being.

He spent the next few, long minutes prepping Cas, stretching him out, first one finger, then two and finally three—and though Cas started out squirming, the same as the first time they had done this, by the second finger he was arching into it and starting to groan, and by the third he was head-back moaning. Loudly. Dean was getting better at finding his sweet spot and it showed, and he had already been good at it to begin with. Cas pulled at the blankets and panted until Dean finally decided he was ready and tugged his fingers away.

Cas actually collapsed back into the pillows with a whine, already completely debauched, cock leaking wetly against his stomach. “Dean.”

“Shit, Cas,” Dean’s voice came out low and rough, and he fumbled for the condom, ripping it open and quickly rolling it onto his own straining dick.

But as urgent as his movements started out, the instant it came to actually sliding into Cas’s body, Dean eased off, one hand petting down Cas’s injured side gently as he rolled his hips and fucked himself into the younger boy, slow and deep—and that set the pace for everything that followed.

Cas laughed breathlessly, delighted when Dean picked up a slow, hot rhythm, wrapping his arms around the older teen and sliding his hands up and down Dean’s back as Dean rocked their hips together, a kind of pleasure that crept up his spine and made his limbs feel loose and tingly, made his cock throb in time with Dean’s thrusts. When Dean lifted his head, Cas pulled him into a kiss, long and drawn-out and matching their movements.

Dean just continued rolling his hips into Cas’s, fucking into him slow and deep, so much differently than he had the first time, one arm braced against the bed next to Cas and the opposite hand up and rubbing gently up-and-down Cas’s injured side.

Cas lightly scored his nails down Dean’s sides, leaving little, white trails in their wake before resting his hands at the small of Dean’s back to feel the smooth roll of his muscles, kneading there while Dean continued moving inside him—and then buried his face in Cas’s shoulder, whispering soft little curses and oaths under his breath. Cas just turned his head to pant into Dean’s hair, his own breath coming heavy and harsh.

Everything was slow and heated and kinetic, soft touches and whispered words. It was perfect.

And they both knew what it was. It wasn’t just sex. But neither of them would say it—they couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

So, for now they just allowed themselves to get lost in each other for what felt like an eternity—until things came to their inevitable conclusion, anyway.

Cas came first, almost startlingly fast when Dean snaked a hand in between them to jerk him off in time with their movements, head thrown back and mouth working silently, come smearing between them—sticky and needing to be cleaned up—but later because Dean wasn’t there yet, so Cas hooked his legs around Dean’s hips and dragged him into a series of deep, hot kisses, rolling his own hips faster to keep the older teen moving.

It was only another minute or two before Dean was thrusting harder, and then pushing in deep and holding there, entire body taut. Cas stroked his hands along Dean’s back, then smiled to himself when Dean finally collapsed on top of him, completely boneless, and muttered into his shoulder, “you’re the actual best.”

Cas laughed breathlessly, “you probably say that to everyone you have sex with.”

But Dean lifted his head to frown down at him. “I really don’t. It’s just, that was—I mean, it was seriously—just.” And then, “it was just.”

When Dean broke off, Cas smiled up at him. “It was, yes.”

A return smile from Dean, and then the other boy dropped his head back onto Cas’s shoulder with a huff. Cas chuckled softly and brought one hand up to stroke through Dean’s sweat-damp hair, just gentle affection, enjoying Dean’s weight over him and the feeling of him breathing. After another couple minutes, though, he tugged at Dean’s hair and shifted his hips.

“Dean… you need to get out of me.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Dean.”

Dean muffled a laugh against his neck and dropped a kiss there before easing back and pulling away finally, rolling to the side and sitting up. One hand lifted to ruffle at his own hair before he just got up and crossed the room, disappearing into the bathroom. When he came out, the condom was gone, and he had a washcloth in his hand.

Cas made a soft surprised noise but didn’t complain when Dean came back over and began cleaning him up, wiping the cooling cum away from his abdomen. It occurred to him that Dean was a considerate partner when it came to things like this. More so than he would have thought if he’d considered it when first meeting him. Now that he really knew him it didn’t seem so odd, Dean was a caring person, but back then Cas wouldn’t have pictured this.

Once he was done, Dean set the cloth to the side on the bedside table and then climbed back into bed, easing up to Cas’s side and wrapping him up in his arms once more, one hand sliding down to rest against his bandages almost absently.

“How’s your side? We didn’t pull it or anything, did we?”

“No.” Cas shook his head against Dean’s shoulder. “It feels fine. You were very gentle.”

“Well, I… of course I… I mean, what just happened was…” Dean trailed off, hedging for time, then just asked softly, “do we need to talk about this, Cas?”

Cas hesitated before shaking his head again, “not if you don’t want to.”

Dean was quiet for a while, just rubbing his hand against Cas’s side gently, and Cas allowed him time to think because this was a sensitive topic at best, and an absolutely forbidden one at worst. If he was honest with himself, he was a little afraid of what was about to happen—what might happen if they had this conversation.

“You know I care about you, Cas.” Dean said finally, speaking over Cas’s head, as if eye contact was a deadly dangerous thing, “more than I can even—” He cut himself off, then, and made a frustrated noise before burying his face in Cas’s hair. His voice was muffled when he spoke again, “probably more than anyone ever.” He admitted softly, “but I can’t—I’m not—with the way things are—”

Cas shifted around, adjusting to pull Dean into his arms instead and leaning in to press a kiss against his forehead. “I understand, Dean.” He said softly. “Really.”

“But it’s not fair to you, I—”

“You can’t help how your life is.” Cas assured him, voice quiet and a gentle smile on his face, “I promise I understand. Please don’t feel badly because of this. You already treat me like…” Trailing off, he considered before finishing, “like I’m something special. Something to be protected. It’s a novelty for me. No one has ever treated me the way you do, not even my Father. So, when I say I understand, please believe me.”

“Cas…”

The younger boy hummed and leaned their foreheads together so he could look into Dean’s eyes. “You know how I feel about you, right? I don’t have to say it, either?”

Dean looked like he wanted to break eye contact, but to his credit he didn’t. Instead, he swallowed a little before replying, “I know, yeah.”

“Then we’re okay.” Cas smiled fondly and settled back, Dean still wrapped up in his arms. They were both quiet for a little while before he spoke up again to say, “I hope we were quiet enough. I was… kind of loud. A couple of times.”

“Well, your Dad didn’t come banging on the door, so I’d say we did alright.” Dean seemed relieved by the topic change. That had been Cas’s plan all along. He gave Cas a wry little smile. “Guess we’ll find out at breakfast.”

“Mm.” Cas wasn’t looking forward to that inevitability. Sighing, he traced the fingers of one hand down Dean’s arm, just feeling out the muscles and enjoying the way they shifted under his touch. “Hey, Dean? Is it very different… having sex with me compared to a girl?”

“Cas!” Dean squawked, flushing red all the way down his neck, “that’s not—I mean—why would you even ask me that?”

Cas just blinked at him. “I’m curious. I’ve never slept with a girl, so I have nothing to compare it to, but you have. So.”

Dean buried his face Cas’s chest and muttered to himself about his clueless boyfriend for a moment but when he lifted his head again Cas was still staring at him expectantly, so he heaved a sigh and pushed up to roll onto his side and face the other boy properly.

“I…” Rubbing at his hair almost awkwardly, he cleared his throat and willed the blushing to go away with little success. “Okay. I… there’ve been… a few. Girls. And they’re all different, but… I guess they’re… softer? I don’t know if that’s the right word for it, but that’s how it seems in my mind. They’re softer and smoother, more pillowy, where your body is all hard planes and lean muscle. It’s a huge difference.”

“Oh.” Cas pondered that for a moment before asking softly, “do you prefer girls?”

“Cas,” Leaning forward, Dean bumped his forehead against Cas’s and gave him a little, conspiratorial half-smirk, “I’m gonna tell you something, alright? You. You feel amazing, every inch of you. And you take me so well, did even the first time. You’re so incredibly hot and sweet and pliant. And our bodies fit together perfectly—like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other. You turn me on like crazy and get me off like no one has before. You are hands down the best I’ve ever had. You take my breath away.” Ducking in, he gave Cas a quick kiss, then added; “so no, I don’t prefer girls. Or even other guys, not that there’ve been any. I just prefer you. So, you’d better get used to meeting up with me in cheap motels because I’m not letting you go any time soon.”

By the time he was finished, Cas was looking positively dumbfounded, just staring with wide eyes—until a flush of red began to creep across his face and down his neck all the way to his chest. Dean counted making Cas blush as a win. “I didn’t… realize. I knew today was… but…” Cas’s blue eyes glanced sideways before flicking back to Dean again. He swallowed and licked his lips. “So… after the first time, when I told you I saw stars? I wasn’t—being figurative. Things were so intense, and you were so amazing and perfect and my vision just—blacked out for a minute, near the end, and I saw literal stars.” He swallowed again and brought one hand up to touch at Dean’s chest, fingers dragging there lightly. “I’m glad you don’t prefer anyone else because I—don’t—want to share you, Dean. You know that. Not when you can make me feel like that. Like you always do. Like I feel now.”

“Not when we fit so well together.” Dean agreed softly.

This harkened back to their earlier conversation but felt easier somehow.

“It’s selfish of me, though.” Cas murmured, pressing his hand flat against Dean’s chest to feel his heartbeat under his palm. “It seems like the whole world could use some Dean Winchester, and I just want to keep you all for myself.”

But Dean shook his head at that. “It’s not selfish. I feel the same way about you.”

“But what use am I, really, other than wielding a fire extinguisher on the odd occasion?” Cas countered with a smile and one of Dean’s hands lifted, up and around to smooth over the bandaged gashes on Cas’s ribs again almost absently; “you’re out saving the world almost every day. I’m nobody special.”

“You are special, I’ve told you that before.” Green eyes peered into blue—and then Dean sighed and shuffled around to pull Cas back into his arms again. Cas went willingly, accepting the trade-off and settling against his chest with a hum. “Just because you’re not a Hunter doesn’t mean you’re not special. To me you’re the most precious thing in the world. And I can tell you’re gonna do great things, Cas. Important things. I can feel it, deep down inside myself. You could be President some day.”

Cas laughed at that suggestion. “I seriously doubt that but thank you.”

Dean grinned at him. “You know what I mean, though.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

The rest of the night was spent just spending time together, each one basking in the other one’s light, talking about whatever came to mind, making out—and yes, having sex twice more during the long hours they were passing. When they finally did go to sleep, the sun was just cresting the horizon and they were tangled up in each other’s arms, warm and comfortable and pretending, at least for the time being, that things were going to stay that way.

-- --

When Cas woke up later that day, the clock on the nightstand read two twenty-three p.m. and Dean’s breath was soft on the back of his neck, the other boy’s arm slung over his waist, heavy and warm. Cas closed his eyes again, then rolled over to cuddle into Dean’s chest, humming a contented sound to himself. He could get used to this.

And the same as last time, he hadn’t had any nightmares, with Dean beside him in the bed. Dean really was like his own personal dreamcatcher, only far more effective. Cas was just idly considering that idea when Dean began to move, shuffling slightly and then tightening his arm around him.

Cas pressed a kiss by his collar bone gently. “Good morning.”

“Mm. ’Morning.” Dean still sounded half-asleep, but he still adjusted to hold Cas against his chest, “how’d you sleep?”

“Good. The same as last time you slept over. What about you?”

“I could use a couple more hours. Last night was intense.”

“It was.” Cas agreed and looked up at him to study his expression. “But good, too, I hope.”

Dean chuckled, low in his chest. “So good, Cas. The best.”

Cas brightened considerably at that. “Great, so then you can’t be angry with me when I tell you that we have to get up.”

A long groan and Dean flopped his head on the pillow. “Why?”

“My Father,” The younger teen explained, “is probably waiting for us to make an appearance downstairs at some point today, and it’s already two-thirty.”

“Your Dad…” Dean stared at him, then swallowed hard, “I have to face your Dad after last night? After what we did last night? I mean it was amazing and everything but…” Then; “what if I just sneak out your window, instead?”

Cas smacked his arm. “No.”

“Cas.”

“My Father likes you,” Cas pointed out, even as he began to untangle himself from Dean and sit up. “And he knows we’re sleeping together, obviously. If he’d had a problem with it, he would have kicked you out last night when I told him you were staying over. He won’t do anything.” Then a pause and he amended, “I take that back, he will probably tease us. A lot. But that’s just how he is. I’m used to it.”

“I’m not.” Dean grumbled, but sat up anyway, stretching and running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t always good at dealing with the parents of his conquests after the conquesting. He usually cut and ran before there could be any confrontations. Not that Cas was a conquest by any means, which made going downstairs and actually talking to Chuck after he had spent an entire night debauching his son an important thing to do. Awkward, but important.

Cas leaned over to give him a brief kiss. “We’re showering first.”

“’We’re’?”

“Mm, you’re coming with me.”

“Cas, you know what happens when we shower together.”

“I know.” Cas shuffled over to the edge of the bed and climbed to his feet, glancing back over his shoulder at Dean. “Are you coming?”

Dean didn’t really need to think about his decision too hard, not with Cas standing there completely naked, asking him to join him in the shower. That seemed like an easy one. Like, so easy it could be a trap of some kind. In the end Dean decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and just got up to follow Cas into the bathroom.

When they emerged from the bathroom almost forty-five minutes later, Cas had a little, almost smug, self-satisfied look on his face and Dean’s knees felt wobbly, but they were otherwise clean at the very least, and Cas had fresh bandages on. They got dressed quickly after that, paused by the door for Dean to drag Cas into a series of long, deep, grateful kisses—and then headed out into the hallway and down the stairs to the main living area.

Chuck was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island, his glasses on and reading the paper, a cup of coffee sitting by his elbow. He didn’t even spare a glance up when they approached and Cas started rattling around in the cupboard for coffee cups, checking to make sure the pot was full, and pouring a couple of mugs for himself and Dean. He added cream and sugar to his, though of course just handed Dean a cup of black coffee. Dean uttered a soft ‘thank you’ and gave him a smile.

“I was beginning to think you’d died.” Chuck drawled finally without looking up from his paper, “I wouldn’t be surprised, considering the goings on last night.”

“Hello, Father.” Cas replied, pulling out the bread and dropping two slices into the toaster. “How are you, today?”

“I would be better if I’d had earplugs last night, who could sleep with the racket you two were making?”

Cas sighed. “Father.” While Dean muttered, “we weren’t that loud.”

Chuck finally looked up from his reading, reaching to pick up his coffee and take a drink, and eyed the two of them for a long moment before deadpanning; “it was six o’clock this morning when you two finally quit it. Did you run out of condoms? I thought you’d never go to sleep.”

Another long-suffering sigh from Cas. The toast popped and he buttered it, then added jam and passed a slice to Dean, who was doing his absolute best not to look Chuck in the eye. “We weren’t that bad, and you know it. Also, I happen to know that you do own earplugs.”

“And sound-cancelling headphones,” Chuck broke into a huge grin, “they came in handy!”

“Father,” Cas protested around a bite of toast.

“Hey, no, real talk here, Cas,” Chuck set his mug down again and looked between the two of them, “I’m glad you seem so happy. I’m glad you found each other, as it were. I can overlook the underage porn happening under my own roof, just—Dean?” And when Dean’s eyes finally flicked up to meet his, Chuck gave him a serious look; “don’t you dare break my son’s heart. I will bring the almighty wrath of God down on you, I swear it.”

Dean had been chewing a bite of toast, but swallowed it quickly, eyes widening. “I—” He swallowed thickly, glancing at Cas and then down before back up at Chuck again, expression serious and voice firm; “I told you before, and I meant it. I would never knowingly hurt Cas. I care about him too much for that.”

A little, fond smile quirked at Cas’s lips, and he hid it behind the lip of his coffee mug. “I trust him.” He told his father softly, “you should, too.”

Chuck grumbled something under his breath before accusing, “you two are making it really hard to be the stern Dad, here.”

“Sorry.” Cas shrugged.

“You are not.” Chuck adjusted his glasses and went back to his reading. “Leave my presence now, your puppy love sickens me.”

Cas’s expression shifted to something unreadable for a moment because… this wasn’t puppy love, what was happening between him and Dean. They had established that the night before, even though neither of them had said the actual words. But his father had just reminded him that it was there, always there, and would still be there after Dean left. And it would be hard. So hard. To say goodbye to him. (Even with the promise of visits and video chats.)

Blinking back to reality, Cas took a sip of his coffee, watching Dean from the corner of his eye. The older boy seemed a bit more relaxed now, drinking his own coffee and finishing off his piece of toast—not much of a breakfast but better than nothing—while the three of them just kind of… existed. In surprisingly comfortable silence, all things considered.

After a moment, Cas transferred his coffee from one hand to the other and dropped his now-free hand to take hold of Dean’s, squeezing gently. “What do you want to do today?”

“Something that isn’t sex?” Chuck piped up, and Cas next thing to glared in his direction.

Dean coughed out a laugh. “We could go somewhere. We have a few hours before I told Sam I’d be back.” Then he paused just long enough to thread their fingers together before adding, “or we could just hang out here. Maybe watch a movie or something?”

Cas set his half-empty mug on the counter and smiled at his boyfriend. “I think we should stay in.”

Because Dean would be leaving any day now, and Cas wanted as much quality time with him as he could get, even if it was just cuddling up on the couch and watching Netflix while his father teased them about it. Going out on another date would be nice, but it wasn’t… private enough. He wanted Dean all to himself. He always wanted Dean all to himself. (And he knew in the end that his father would only tease them a little and then disappear into his study, anyway.)

“Pizza and Netflix it is, then.” Dean agreed.

“Pizza?” Cas blinked. No one had said anything about pizza.

“Definitely pizza.” Dean confirmed, “I mean that was some good toast, I’m not knocking the toast, but I am starving.”

“You used up a lot of energy last night,” Cas reasoned with a quirk of his lips, then; “we can order pizza if you want.”

Dean at least had the presence of mind to be embarrassed over Cas’s comment, glancing at Chuck, who was steadfastly ignoring them now. Leaning in close to Cas he whispered, “and this morning, thanks to you.” Cas tried not to look smug and failed rather spectacularly. Dean just grinned and offered, “I’ll pay for the pizza.”

With a fake credit card, Cas knew, the same as always. “Of course.”

So, they ordered pizza, and while they were waiting for it to arrive, they browsed through Netflix to find a movie to watch, though if he was honest Cas really didn’t mind what was on the television as long as they were together. He would probably be paying more attention to Dean, anyway.

Eventually they settled on an old thriller that Dean had seen before—though to be fair, Cas thought Dean had seen all the movies before. In any case, Dean swore uphill and down that it was a classic and that Cas would love it. Cas was skeptical. He wasn’t really into movies, not the way his boyfriend was. They had already established that he was more of a book person. Hence the disused television in his bedroom.

Once the pizza arrived and they had both eaten their fill—and shared with Chuck, who ate and then disappeared into his study as Cas had privately predicted—they settled in the living room to watch their movie. Dean was leaning into the corner of the couch with Cas tucked into his side and everything was warm and comfortable again immediately.

And Cas was right, the movie didn’t interest him. Dean seemed to be enjoying it, but half an hour in Cas was far more interested in the other teen than he was the film playing out in front of them.

He tilted his head and started pressing kisses along the curve of Dean’s neck, just little and light, eyes closed as he nuzzled into Dean’s throat with a sigh. After a moment Dean made a soft sound that rumbled in his chest and turned his head—and the next kiss that Cas dropped was met by lips instead of soft skin.

“Mm.” Cas smiled into the kiss, and when Dean pulled back again, he offered, “sorry. I’m really not interested in movies.”

“I know. It’s just an excuse to cuddle up with you, really.”

Cas laughed, already shuffling them around so Dean was sprawled out on his back, and he could settle over him. He crossed his arms over Dean’s chest and leaned his chin down on them, smiling up at the older boy for a long moment. “Where do you think you’ll go?” He asked softly, “when you leave here.”

Dean hummed and brought one hand up to card his fingers through Cas’s hair, the other resting against his side gently. “There’s no way to know. Wherever we’re needed, I guess. Wherever Dad decides to take us.”

“And you’ll help out on the Hunts, now that you’ve done one of your own?”

“Hard to say.” Dean hedged, “Dad is pretty pissed at me right now. He might bench me because of all…” He waved a hand between himself and Cas before returning it to Cas’s side, his other hand still toying with Cas’s hair; “this. I broke all the rules on my very first solo Hunt.”

Cas leaned into the touches in his hair, eyes closing over, “I’m sorry. You’re in trouble because of me.”

But Dean just shook his head, smiling down at him, expression soft. “You’re worth it, Cas.”

“Worth defying your Dad for?”

“Definitely. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Blue eyes opened and Cas looked up at Dean—then pushed up to kiss him. “I adore you.”

Dean smiled against his lips and managed, “I know. I… I mean. You know. Same.”

That was the best he was going to get, but it was good enough for Cas. He understood how Dean felt, just like Dean understood how he felt. They just weren’t actually saying it. Because saying it made it too real, saying it… you couldn’t take that back, once it was out in the world. Even telling Dean that he adored him was pushing the boundaries a little.

Maybe some day they could say what they actually meant, but not today.

In any case, for now Cas just settled over Dean again, resting comfortably with his head tucked under Dean’s chin, and they spent the rest of the day—until Dean had to head back to the motel—with various Excuse Movies playing in the background while they generally ignored them, spending the time wrapped up in each other instead.

At seven, when Dean reluctantly announced that he had to leave, Cas grumbled but allowed it, untangling himself from the other teen and climbing off the couch, then reaching a hand out to help haul Dean up, too.

They possibly spent too long saying goodbye, standing at the front door exchanging little kisses until Dean finally wrenched himself away and disappeared into the night for the long walk back to the motel where his brother was waiting.

Cas turned off Netflix, after that, and went up to his bedroom to tidy things up from the night before.

-- --

The next day was Monday, which of course meant school for Cas, if not for Dean, but after the events of Friday, spending time with the friends he already had and making new ones, he wasn’t actually dreading walking up the steps to Caspar High the way he had before. He knew he wasn’t alone, even if Dean wasn’t there anymore.

Charlie, Jody and Garth met him by his locker like they had on Friday, but this time Jo and Kevin joined them, and Cas chatted with them for the short time before the first bell rang to send them off to class: for Cas it was geography.

His morning classes went by smoothly enough, though there were the occasional whispers behind his back. It happened in every class except calculus, as if Charlie warded the negativity off. He sometimes wondered why Charlie didn’t get the same treatment, considering she was just as gay and out as he was. Maybe it was more socially acceptable to be a lesbian? Who really knew.

In any case, lunch hour was spent at the Weird Kid table in the cafeteria. This time Cas had remembered to only pack one sandwich—not an extra one for Dean. It was a kind of bittersweet moment to open his bag and find just one lunch inside instead of two. Cas shook it off and settled in to eat anyway.

Right after lunch was his beloved calculus class. Beloved not because he liked calculus all that much, but because it was the only class he shared with his friends. He made himself comfortable in his seat behind Charlie and beside Garth, diagonal from Jody, and pulled his books out.

The four of them talked amongst themselves until the teacher arrived, at which point they buckled down for math.

But only ten minutes into class, Cas’s cell phone beeped from his bag—and he stealthily picked it up to check the message. It was from Sam:

[We’re leaving. NOW. He’s cleaning out his locker. If you run, you can catch him.]

Cas dropped his cell back in his bag and scrambled for the door, ignoring the teacher calling after him and Charlie shouting “what the hell, Cas!”

Dean’s locker had been in the science hall, which was all the way in the other end of the building. By the time Cas got there it was a ghost town, Dean was gone. So, Cas did the only thing he could think of—he sprinted for the front of the school, hoping to head Dean off at the pass. Because he could handle Dean leaving, he had come to terms with that, but not without saying goodbye. They had agreed to that.

When he got to the lobby it was empty, but Dean was outside, making his way down the steps in front of the school.

“Dean!”

Dean was just about to get into the idling Impala when Cas burst through the front doors of the school, frantically calling his name. He immediately turned around and hurried over—the two of them collided halfway between the building and the car, Dean grabbing Cas by the collar and pulling him into a desperate kiss. Cas returned it in kind, not stopping even when a car horn honked and an angry voice called after Dean.

When they broke apart there were tears in Cas’s eyes and he brought his hands up to rest against Dean’s chest, fingers hooking in the fabric of his shirt, tugging gently. “You promised you’d say goodbye.”

Dean shook his head, then winced when the horn honked again and Sam’s voice could be heard demanding just give him a minute, Dad! “I’m sorry—just—my Dad, and you were in class—there was no time—”

Cas smiled sadly. He understood. His hands slid up to cradle Dean’s face, thumbs brushing over the scratchy stubble of his jaw; “listen to me, this is important: You are a good person, Dean, no matter what other people might say, no matter what your Dad might say, no matter what you might think of yourself sometimes. You’re good, and kind, and generous, and so, so caring. You’re the most caring person I know. I’m better for having known you. And you are destined for great things, world-changing things, even if I’m not there to see them. Remember that there’s always someone out there rooting for you and remember that being a Hunter doesn’t have to define you.” Then a small, sad laugh, and; “and remember that texting and video chats are a thing.” Cas was still smiling, but now tears were streaming down his face. He took a shaky breath before continuing; “and know that I love you, Dean Winchester. I love you.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, then let it out, shuddering, and pulled the other boy close again, closing the distance to kiss him once more. “Cas, you know I—I—”

“I know.” Cas murmured against his lips, “you’re not ready. You may never be ready. But I had to say it.” Stepping back a bit, he wiped at his eyes and looked toward the car; “you should go. Sam and your Dad are waiting.”

Dean shook his head, mouth working but no sound coming out for a long moment. Then he reached out to take hold of Cas’s hand and squeezed firmly before letting go and turning around, heading over to the Impala and climbing in. The car door closed with finality and Cas blinked back more tears as it pulled out—

—only to almost immediately screech to a stop again just a few feet later. Muffled, raised voices sounded from inside the vehicle for a moment before the passenger door flung open once more and Dean clambered out again, striding purposefully back over to where Cas was standing, giving him a completely baffled look. “Dean, what—?”

Grabbing hold of him, Dean dragged him into another kiss, then pressed their foreheads together and offered up a breathless grin; “I am ready. And I love you, too, Cas. I do. I think ever since I met you.” Dean’s smile was bright and happy; “I couldn’t leave without telling you. I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

Blue eyes blinked, shocked, but then a wide, delighted smile stretched across Cas’s face, too. The kind of smile he didn’t offer up very often. Dean soaked it in like the rays of the sun, and they stood there like that for the longest few moments before his dad honked the car horn again, bringing them back to reality. Dean lifted a hand to stroke through Cas’s hair gently and Cas leaned in for another kiss—and this time when they said goodbye it wasn’t sad or heartbreaking, it was only tinged with the slightest bit of melancholy and brimming with the hope and joy that newfound love brings to everything it touches.

When Cas got back to class a short time later, there was already a new text on his phone:

[Butte, Montana. Werewolf. Yes, they’re a thing. I love you.]

Cas smiled down at the screen and quickly typed out a reply, the teacher glaring at him the entire time:

[Be safe. I love you, too.]

-- --

Chuck finished typing his latest page and printed it out, then plucked it from the printer and held it up with a satisfied grin on his face. “I knew I should have introduced them earlier. High School AUs are in this season!”

THE END

[trakiantales]

Intro

Hi!

I'm worldbuilding for a fantasy setting I'm developing to write a story in.

It started out as a writing exercise. It's now complicated enough that I've got at least 50 pages of general backstory, a timeline, a conlang for the lingua franca, and a lot of time wasted spent on developing this world.

This Tumblr is basically a means to post my notes for this, both to organize my thoughts and also in case some poor fool aspiring reader discovers this rabbit hole.

So before I get into the complicated bits, let me introduce myself. I'm Womgi. I'm 33 years old as of 2024, and I'm an Indian citizen from the city of Kochi in India. I work in a housing finance company, which for our American friends basically means I work with mortgages. In my free time I dabble in fanfiction, and poetry. And I daydream of retirement because I'm also a millennial waiting for the proverbial mushroom cloud to sweep over me and put me out of my misery. English is actually my second language, my first being Malayalam, and my third being Hindi. I'm fluent in English and Malayalam, passable in Hindi, and I can understand Tamil if I squint.

Whit that done, let's move on to the actual setting!

So, short backstory time!

We have our basic fantasy magic world with people,magic and nations. Magic has existed basically forever, but actually using it was very difficult. Emphasis on was.

And back when magic was rarer than common sense, that's where your mages came in, people with enough magic to use magic in a meaningful manner, aka people who can cast at least some spells.

And then you have the real heavy hitters, the og legends in a time of sword and spear, the battle mages, who were basically able to use magic on themselves and become tiny unstoppable murder machines. Just saying, nothing says I win more than being strong, nigh invulnerable and super fast for a while. Especially when your opponents consider the spear and shield the height of military power.

The great nations of Trakia mostly came about due to these individuals, doing a lot of heavy lifting in "uniting" large areas into large nations. Thus you go from hundreds of small tribal territories to actual kingdoms and small empires, nations which have vast land, people and resources.

And the way these nations stayed united is that they figured out non mage magics, stuff that you could train the average guy to do. Basically, a mage might be able to light up a hand with their own magic. A magician would study and be able to do actually useful stuff, like a magic telegram, or repairing a house. But the point is, once you have communication in place, even if it is magic telegrams, you start to be able to consolidate in a way that you couldn't before the use of such magic. Communication allows for coordination, and homogenization, keeping a country together as opposed to having distant regions that will eventually feel estranged and eventually get ideas....like becoming independent. No, being united is all about a collective "us" that can then be used as an excuse to look down upon "them"

This is what I'd like to call the pre isekai period. When things were....okay-ish. sure you had your wars and fighting, but the world was nominally at peace, and most people didnt really have to worry about anything more than themselves and their immediate surroundings. Politics was something for rulers to worry about. Everyone was happy!

But everything changed when the fire nation attacked!

And then things....changed.

[anotherwritersblog]

Title: So It's You

Chapter {2} - Therefore I Am

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.3K-ish

Author's Note: This part is in Bucky's POV. I've been staring at this piece all day and I think I'm ready to post. I feel like this gives an insight to how far he's willing to go for Reader (in some circumstances) to make sure others know not to upset her and we get to probe his thoughts a bit (which is always fun). This series was inspired by the TikToks of soulmates sharing songs inside their mind.

Warning: lots of language (Steve would not be proud of reader), mentions of cheating, a little implied smut, biting, Bucky still being a flirt and getting a little handsy, Bucky also being a little clueless here (bless his heart)

Any and all reblogs/likes/comments are appreciated.

In no way, shape, or form, do you have permission to post this anywhere.

Chapter {1}

__________________

🎶 I'm not your friend or anything, damn

You think that you're the man

I think, therefore, I am

Stop, what the hell are you talking about?

Get my pretty name outta your mouth

We are not the same with or without 🎶

I was walking down the hall, making my way to my room after hanging out with Steve and Sam, when I heard shouting coming from Y/N's room.

"What the hell? Why are you calling and telling me this? It's been ten glorious years. MOVE. THE FUCK. ON. How did you even get my number anyway? I blocked yours all those years ago and changed my number for this exact reason!”

I tried knocking but was pretty sure she didn’t hear me. I slowly pushed the door open and slipped in, making sure to shut the door behind me. She glanced my way but continued her conversation on the phone. I just leaned against the door, watching her pace her room. You could see the look of annoyance in her face with whomever she was on the phone with, her other hand balled into a fist by her side.

🎶 I don't want press to put your name next to mine

We're on different lines, so

I Wanna be nice enough, they don't call my bluff

Rather you remain unremarkable

Got a lotta interviews, interviews, interviews

When they say your name, I just act confused 🎶

"It does not matter! You cheated on me with this bitch, and yet you blamed the ending of our relationship on me! I don't care that your wife is pregnant with your best friend's child. That's not my problem and neither are you!"

Well…that’s going to be a conversation for later.

“Besides, you know that we’re not soulmates, so why are you even contacting me?”

She stopped in her tracks, and I could see that her mind was running a hundred miles a minute.

“That does not matter either! I am never taking you back! What part of that do you not understand? I don’t need you in my life. I…I have someone else that cares for me now and he would never treat me like you did!” She looked my way before picking up her pace again, following the footprints found in the carpet.

It felt like my heart stalled for a minute there. Is she really seeing someone? Is it something serious? Why hasn't she told me about him? Do I know him? Has she told Sam or Steve? IS IT SAM OR STEVE? No. No, it's not. It can't be. Don’t be stupid, Buck. She’s just saying that to get under this guy’s-

I was quickly pulled from my thoughts when she was shouting a few more expletives I didn't know were in her vocabulary and finishing her conversation with “Just fuck off. Go find yourself another young plaything and leave me alone!"

She hung up the call, shoving her phone in her back pocket, and putting her face in her hands. I leaned up from the door and walked to put my arms around her. She started to bang her head on my chest, so I placed my right hand on the back of her head and held her still.

"Everything okay, doll?" I mumbled, rubbing her back with my left hand.

"Just peachy.”

“Who was it that called?” I whispered into her hair and she took several deep breaths to calm down.

“He’s just an old fling. Like a we-were-together-back-in-high-school old fling. His wife cheated on him and now he thinks I'm going to take him back just because 'we had something special.' I completely cut ties with him once I started college and I guess he got my new number from someone back home."

Soon after that, her phone starts ringing again, and she sighs out of frustration.

🎶 Did you have fun?

I really couldn't care less

And you can give 'em my best, but just know

I'm not your friend or anything,

Damn, you think that you're the man

I think, therefore, I am 🎶

"May I?" I questioned, looking down at her. She nodded her head; eyebrow raised a little.

"Bucky!" she squealed, as I teased her by putting both hands in her back pockets. One hand grabbed her phone, while the other grabbed her ass. Her body pushed into mine and she looked up to me. "My god. You're such a flirt!" she giggled.

"You enjoy it..." I smirked, answering the phone and placing it on speaker.

"Please, Y/N! I really am sorry! I -"

"You're right, doll. He does sound like a whiny little bitch. Why don't we show him who truly cares for you?" She was stifling a laugh when I moved as close as I could to nuzzle my face into her neck. This caused her to gasp fairly loud, hopefully loud enough for this ex to hear. The smell of champagne and citrus lingered along her skin filled my senses, and any will to control myself, and my thoughts, slowly went out the door. I found myself leaving small kisses underneath her ear. “God, you smell so good, doll. I bet you taste even better.” Her body shivered before she surprised us both with a moan.

"James. Baby…why don’t you shut up and find out?" Her fingers hooking into the belt loops on my jeans and pulling my body closer to hers.

The words Anything for you, doll somehow slipped from my lips and I easily found myself diving into her. My teeth sank into the column of her throat and the moans she let out turned me on more than I expected.

I pulled back and saw a wave of darkness had washed over her eyes. The feeling of my knees ready to bend at her will, were soon diminished as soon as we heard the call hang up. Almost as if only a millisecond goes by, the light was back in her eyes and she was laughing again.

"That was a little too convincing, doll,” I chuckled, slipping her phone back into her pocket, and pulling her into my side. She wound her arms around my waist and rested her cheek on my chest.

For the love of God, please don’t look down, doll.

"Well, he was the insecure type, so I knew it wouldn’t take much for him to hang up. Besides, I’d like to add that you were a little too convincing as well, James,” she giggled before reaching up to kiss my cheek. “Thank you though. I really appreciate the help, Buck.”

"No one upsets my girl,” I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Wanna go grab dinner?"

"Sounds like a grand idea. Wings and beer?"

"Perfect."

She pulled away and ran into her closet to grab her jacket. When she passed her vanity mirror, she stopped and tilted her head.

“Fucking hell, Buck. You didn’t need to go all in,” she touched the mark that was starting to form around my bite marks.

“Sorry, doll. I meant it when I said you smelled good,” I chuckled, holding the door open for her. She did her signature eye roll, but I soon met those sparkling eyes again when she looked back at me.

“And I’m sure you meant the taste comment as well, huh?”

“Yup,” I smirked, as I popped the p. Her eyes grew big for a minute and I saw her cheeks start to turn red.

She’s so cute when she blushes.

“So…uh…where’s Sam and Steve? Surely they would like to join us?” she pushes past me and starts walking down the corridor.

“I think they were meeting up with Nat and Sharon down at the pool hall. We can meet up with them after dinner if you want?”

“Yeah. That…that would be fun,” she turned around to see that I was right behind her. She linked her arm into mine and we made our way down to the garage, where our night was only beginning.