#creating a tag for all pine sweat stuff for my own use

[isitmadness]

Needed Company

summary: After Umbara, Obi-Wan and Cody find themselves unable to sleep. Both men have different ways of coping, but sometimes coping together is better than coping alone.

characters/relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Commander Cody, pre-relationship Obi-Wan/Cody

words: 2.4k

tags: pre-relationship, look at these idiots pining again, mutual pining, post-Umbara, light on the angst - just a dash, i tagged both relationship types, because it is both, and i didn’t want to trick anyone...if that makes sense, Jedi positive

a/n: I saw this tweet and ran with it - “underrated trope: when character a can’t sleep and character b finds them wandering or tinkering or painting and decides to keep them company”

Read it on a03

Obi-Wan strolled slowly down the quiet halls of the Negotiator, hands clasped behind his back, no destination in mind. The Force felt mostly still and calm surrounding the thousands of lives on board, and for that he was grateful. And as it was the middle of the night—such as that was flying through hyperspace—the quietness was to be expected. It still didn’t keep Obi-Wan from passing troopers and officers in the halls, but they were more scarce than during the day.

As he got closer to the training rooms, one Force signature he knew rather well was projecting a lot of hurt and that was concerning. He slowed his steps and finally heard grunts, thuds, and slaps which became louder and more insistent as he rounded the corner. It certainly wasn't a strange noise to be coming out of the training room, but it was out of place in the wee hours of the morning.

He found the door to the room open, light from inside spilling into the dim hallway. Obi-Wan could sense strong frustration, anger, guilt rolling off his marshal commander in waves. He stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame to watch Commander Cody taking out his frustrations on a punching bag.

He moved with precision and finesse, muscles rippling each time he twisted or landed a new blow. His warm brown skin sheened with sweat in the light, and the movement was mesmerizing. Obi-Wan tried not to ogle, but was finding it difficult. He had only very recently realized his attraction, but had attempted to put it out of his mind due to their circumstances. He was Cody's general, his superior in rank, in addition to being his friend, and Obi-Wan couldn't, wouldn't jeopardize that.

But objectively, the man was handsome.

He straightened up when the noise stopped and Cody turned. "You just gonna stand there and stare?" Cody said, unwrapping his hand, "Sir." There was something biting in the way Cody addressed him. Obi-Wan frowned and stepped into the room.

"I apologize for disturbing you, commander," Obi-Wan stood at the edge of the mat, hands still clasped behind his back. “I just heard noises in the hall and thought I would stop and see if I could be of any assistance.”

Cody looked him up and down quickly, attempting to do so undetected. The general looked like he just rolled out of bed, and at this hour, he no doubt had done just that. He was wearing his leggings, boots, and only his undertunic which exposed a V of pale chest covered in darker ginger hair. The lighter sandy-colored hair on his head was delightfully sleep-mussed and Cody found himself with twitchy fingers, wanting to reach out and smooth it down. He was his general—that would be wrong and unprofessional.

He sighed, "You didn't disturb me, General Kenobi." Obi-Wan’s eyes tracked Cody as he walked to the bench on the edge of the mat and grabbed a drink from his water bottle. “You knew it was me already though, didn’t you? In the hallway?”

"Please, just Obi-Wan," Obi-Wan replied. "When we're alone," he hastily added. He winced thinking about how that sounded, and Cody pretended not to notice. “And yes, I knew it was you.”

"Well, Obi-Wan, I was just finishing up, so," Cody said as he wiped a towel across his face, around his neck, and over his chest and arms. "I hope I didn't wake you." Cody knew that was unlikely considering the General's quarters were nowhere near the training rooms, but the Jedi was always so in-tune with the lives around him, he had to wonder if the Force worked like that.

Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively, "Not at all." Truthfully, Obi-Wan had had a hard time sleeping since the Umbaran mission two weeks prior, Krell's betrayal weighing heavily and irrevocably on his mind. "I was just taking a midnight stroll, if you will, and I heard noise and found you."

"Hmm," was all Cody could find to say as he turned to face Obi-Wan finally, neither really knowing what to say. That was new...and odd.

"I just…" Obi-Wan started carefully, unsure of what he wanted to ask, always afraid he might overstep. "I figured whoever was in here was having difficulties, like I am, and I thought maybe they needed company." Obi-Wan shrugged one shoulder, and in that moment, he looked younger. Cody briefly wondered what he must have been like before the war, when he was just a Jedi, and not a High General, unburdened by the cares of war.

Cody leaned over and picked up his black shirt from the bench and slipped it over his head. He really wanted to shower now, but his general was here—a shower could wait.

"Would you like to walk with me? Or perhaps you'd care for tea in my quarters? Absolutely no pressure, perhaps your destruction of this punching bag did the trick,” he smiled. He knew it was a dangerous question, but he and his commander had been alone in his quarters many times—whether for tea or conversation or to go over battle strategies. It wasn't an unusual question, but the request felt heavier than usual.

Cody debated. He had of course been to Obi-Wan’s quarters before, several times, alone and with others—but this time the request felt different. "I...that would be nice, sir." Obi-Wan looked at him pointedly with a small quirk of his lips. "Pardon, Obi-Wan."

"Very good," Obi-Wan said with a smile.

----

They walked back to Obi-Wan’s quarters side by side, both aware that a gap of a few feet between them would be smart, but instead both finding the nearness of the other a small comfort. Cody wished he had more than his blacks to wear but, well, it was what it was. And Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind the informality, especially dressed as he was.

The door slid open when they arrived and everything was just as it usually was except for an untidy bed—Obi-Wan really had just rolled out of it. There was the usual stack of datapads on his desk, a flimsi book opened facedown on the end of his bed, and his outer tunics draped carefully across the back of his desk chair. "Pardon the mess," Obi-Wan said as they walked in.

Cody huffed a laugh, "You're a real slob, sir."

That made Obi-Wan laugh an honest-to-goodness laugh. "Whatever will you do with me…" he replied, unthinking, as he walked over and filled his electric kettle with water.

"Quite frankly, you're past all hope," Cody added, teasing some more. It felt good to laugh and joke with his general, especially after…

"That sounds like something my old padawan would say," Obi-Wan turned to face Cody again and smiled, a far-off look in his eyes.

Cody became serious again. "And how is he, si-- Obi-Wan?"

"Ah," Obi-Wan leaned against the small counter and stroked his beard. "He is angry, as you can imagine. Feeling betrayed."

"As we all are!" Cody interjected more forcefully than he intended.

"Yes, you are right." Obi-Wan sighed and motioned to the small two-person table in the corner near his kitchenette. "Would you care to be seated, commander? Of course, you’re welcome to sit anywhere you'd like."

"Just Cody," he said with a tight smile and took a seat at Obi-Wan’s small table. Obi-Wan remained standing so he could fix the tea.

"And how is Captain Rex?" Obi-Wan asked, cutting right to the chase. He knew why Cody was awake—it was the same reason he was.

"Angry, as you can imagine," Cody said, parroting Obi-Wan’s words back at him. "And I don't think he's telling me everything. Sir, I--" What could Cody even say? It was a betrayal of the highest order and none of them saw it coming. Rex was taking it very personally and very hard—questioning his choices, his command. Many good men were dead now, by their own brothers’ hands, too. How did you come back from that?

"Take your time, Cody," Obi-Wan said as he busied himself getting mugs and his tea out of the cabinet.

Cody was silent a little longer. He felt responsible, of course he did. As marshal commander, he was responsible for hundreds of thousands of lives, and every good man's death weighed heavily on him. And he knew it was the same for his general. He considered himself damn lucky that his general was Obi-Wan.

He knew the Jedi felt a very heavy responsibility being pressed into command of an army—they were guardians of peace and justice, negotiators, not warriors. They were not created for war like he and the clones were. And, belonging to the Galactic Republic as they did, they could have been subjected to the leadership of more Republic officers, none of whom gave a shit about the lives of mere clones. They were a means to an end. Even to the citizens of the republic, they were just a white helmet. But Jedi like Obi-Wan, Mace Windu, Yoda, Plo Koon...Cody knew that they cared about their men.

The kettle's whistle tore through the silence, startling them both. "Apologies," Obi-Wan said as he poured the water. Unsurprisingly, the silence dragged on as long as it took the tea to steep. "Sugar, honey, milk?" Obi-Wan asked when it was finished.

"How about a little honey?"

Obi-Wan nodded. When finished, he brought the cups over and sat across from Cody, sliding his over to him. They sat in silence for several more beats, enjoying the warm and soothing amber liquid. Cody didn't like the stuff at first, but he had grown used to it, and anyway, this little ritual was something he could share with his general—that alone was worth learning to love the drink.

In the harsh light of his quarters, Obi-Wan was slightly greener and paler than usual, but the artificial light could never truly detract from his handsomeness. Cody buried his nose in his cup wondering why he was thinking these thoughts and desperately hoping that the general couldn’t pick up on them.

"I think, Cody," Obi-Wan started again. "That perhaps Rex, and you, could benefit from a mind healer. I don't want to overstep, but as your general, you know it is my duty to look out for the both of you—all of you. And I think you and I are awake for the same reasons.” He hesitated again, taking another sip of his tea. “I myself have been unable to sleep since…"

Umbara went unsaid. It had been a rough two weeks.

"You're very perceptive, as always," Cody smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Obi-Wan took another long sip of the tea, letting it warm him from the inside. "I'm sorry I didn't have anything stronger."

Cody chuckled, "Maybe next time."

Obi-Wan coughed lightly, "Yes, next time."

They sat in more silence, the only sound was the gentle hum of the Venator-class destroyer hurtling through hyperspace back to Coruscant. They had grown accustomed to that in a short period of time, too. Sometimes it could lull Obi-Wan to sleep, but other times he missed the quiet of the Jedi Temple.

“If you were ever interested—and others, too, of course—I would also be happy to teach you some meditation techniques. It’s not a perfect solution, but I find it helps quiet my mind,” Obi-Wan finally added. “Anakin never took to it too much, but I think you might.”

Cody gave Obi-Wan a genuine smile and agreed. Before he knew it, he found himself feeling rather drowsy—like the tea was some kind of sleeping draught. "What did you put in this tea?” He asked with a grin.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm feeling oddly relaxed all of the sudden," Cody replied.

Obi-Wan smiled, "Well, I'm glad to hear it. But it's only tea and honey, if you're trying to insinuate that I drugged you." Cody laughed. "I guess I can't help that I'm such a lively, interesting person and I can put people to sleep with my conversation." Obi-Wan arched his eyebrow, teasing Cody.

Cody scoffed, "You're one of the most interesting people I know, maybe the most interesting…" Oh, he was tired and saying too much.

"Hmm, oh I doubt that," Obi-Wan chuckled and took another sip of his tea, finally emptying the cup.

"It's true! Your company is infinitely preferable to many." Forget the sleeping draught—there was a truth serum in here, making Cody confess secret thoughts. Cody finished it anyway.

Obi-Wan smiled again, "Well, that goes both ways." He stood and collected their mugs then washed them out in the small sink.

Oh.

Cody was surely imagining this conversation, he was dreaming up this entire scenario, he was sure of it. He decided that maybe he should go try and get some sleep before he hallucinated any more scenarios where his general told him he cared for him, placed his palm on his cheek and--

He stood suddenly, nearly upsetting the chair, "Well, I think I might try to go get some sleep. I'll be returning to my quarters." Even though Obi-Wan’s bed was right there, looking warm and inviting now...

Obi-Wan stood, too, something aching in his chest. "Yes of course, commander, shall I walk you back?"

Cody chuckled, "I think I know my own way, but thank you , sir."

Obi-Wan nodded with a smile and walked Cody to the door. "Well then, thank you for the company, commander."

Cody turned and gave Obi-Wan a lazy two-finger salute, "Thank you, sir."

"Obi-Wan.”

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Cody returned the smile finally.

"Find me if you can't sleep again. I'll find some topic of conversation to drone on about that'll put you right to sleep."

"Ah, but the sound of your voice would keep me awake," Cody said, wincing internally, and Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure how to take that. The door slid open as they got closer and Cody turned to face Obi-Wan again. "Good night, sir, try to get some sleep."

"Good night, commander," Obi-Wan said as Cody walked through the door.

Cody nodded once more then headed down the hall. Obi-Wan stood outside his quarters and watched him until he turned the corner then walked back inside. He sat on his bed and pulled his boots off then his under tunic and tossed it at the chair. He slipped back under the covers which had unfortunately lost all their warmth. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the lights off and nestled in hoping finally for some sleep.

[risthebrave]

hi!! i was wondering if you had any tips for writing smut?? i’m terrible at it and would love some of your h o l y advice <3

hi!! of course! i’m so so sorry this is so late! it’s been a busy (and emotionally exhausting) few days but i hope whoever sent this still sees this!! it’s sort of a mess but *hopefully* includes something helpful.

i’m going to put it under the cut though just in case:

first i want to link this super helpful smut writing 101 post that’s my go-to for providing references. it’s what helped me a lot when i was first attempting to write smut back in my first fic and was intimidated about where to start! in my opinion, it’s really thorough so i highly suggest giving it a read!

this one is also rather helpful! i got it from the @bottomlouisficfest writing tips tag which is another great place to look for writing resources and tips if you ever need any!

i don’t want to repeat what’s been said in those posts (probably way more eloquently than i could ever attempt) but i’m still going to list a few things that i tend to keep in mind/do when writing smut. just want to emphasize real quickly that there’s no “one correct set of rules” for writing smut and i’m surely not the single expert (or even an expert at all, lol) so read this and if something resonates with you, keep it mind, but if you disagree, then that’s fine too! it’s your writing and it should be what you want/like first and foremost.

now for the actual “tips” :

- analyzing smut scenes that you’ve thought to be “well-done”

just want to clarify that ‘analyzing’ never in a million years means ‘copying.’ all words you put down on that document should be 100% your own - i shouldn’t even have to explain that. but when you’ve never written smut before (or you have but not frequently), looking at smut scenes that you deem to be successful is a great way to get an idea of how to set up a scene. look at what they focus on and emphasize, how they balance description and dialogue, and how much they delve into the sensations/actions.

i can say pretty confidently that no one who’s never read a smut scene will be able to write a (good) smut scene, so read!! read and learn from what you read!

- be clear about what kind of scene you want to write

1. intent/purpose

what is the intent of this scene? okay, that sounds a bit confusing - it’s smut. the purpose is pretty much always going to be achieving intimacy between the characters, and/or portraying dynamics/etc but make sure you’re achieving those goals when writing smut/smut scenes. i know it may seem like you have to add smut to every fic you write (and i know i’m not one to talk considering all my fics so far have included - and some of them a lot of - smut) but it’s not a requirement! if you don’t want to write it or you don’t think it fits in with the story, don’t force it!

that being said, there is usually a “point” to the scene. sometimes people use smut as a plot device which is fine too (creating drama/angst - like fwb where one is pining or something like that - IDK) but you should know what that intent is before you write the scene so it aids your goal rather than contradicts it or worse, confuses reader. this sort of relates to the 3: atmosphere too so i’ll come back to this!

2. language

depending on the type of scene you want to write, your language and prose should reflect your intent/goal from before.

- cock vs other words: this one is less about the intent, and more just about language choices in general. ‘cock’ is the most widely used word for ‘penis’ in smut scenes for a reason, so i highly suggest using it. i know people don’t want to be repetitive so they try to use multiple words, but ‘cock’ is seriously your best best. if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it, and all that. ‘dick,’ ‘length,’ and maybe ‘shaft,’ or ‘prick,’ can be used too depending on the circumstances/atmosphere (for example, i’ll only use ‘dick’ in fics where the smut is “dirtier” because imo it stands out as a bit more crude?)

- come/cum: this is a differentiation that varies from writer to writer but what i personally tend to do is ‘coming/come’ for the verb and ‘cum’ for the noun. even then, i typically don’t use ‘cum’ in fics where the smut is less dirty, more romantic because again, it’s more ‘crude/dirty’ than the counterpart - once again, people’s opinions on this vary though, so think about what flows better with the type of scene you want to write.

and some more general writing tips: be precise with your word choice (this is actually sort of related to the above two things as well but i felt those needed to be separate dhjdkd) - words like ‘gripping’ and ‘grasping’ while seemingly being the same, tend to denote slightly different meanings, at least for me when i read! ‘gripping’ is more firm while ‘grasping’ is more desperate. things like this also connect to atmosphere but it’s language so i’m keeping it here! 

some words/phrases that i keep in a list and that also may give you a good idea of the kind of writing that’s typical to smut scenes are: pumping fingers in vs fingers pressing in (those two also have different meanings/pictures), hips snapping forward vs hips drawing forward (again! it’s all about word choice), nails cutting shapes into the skin of his back, slow drag of his hips vs ramming in, cock thick and pressing deep, pushing deep with agonizing precision, fingers grasping helplessly at the sheets, toes curling into the mattress, skin slick with sweat, throat fluttering with every breath, head lolling back, body going slack, heart racing/thundering in his ears, etc etc. 

think about the five senses and what the characters are feeling. think about the dynamic between them. all of that should be reflected in the writing style (and oftentimes already is, just subconsciously, but it never hurts to be aware). 

3. atmosphere

in other words, is this scene meant to be romantic? dirty? is it more light-hearted or intense? these are things that should impact the way you write the scene. if i’m writing a romantic smut scene, then i’ll pay less attention to the actual acts itself and more to the emotions and tenderness behind it. there’ll probably be more metaphors (but also: never overuse metaphors because that also gets confusing) and sweet nothings being whispered in comparison to a scene with lots of dirty talk and more significance to the physical aspect (it’ll also probably include rougher sex in comparison to sweeter, slower sex).

if it’s a more light-hearted scene, consider adding elements such as humor to enhance that goal/intent (see, they’re back!) it’s all about what you want this scene to accomplish in the reader’s eyes!

just some other quick things: when you have multiple smut scenes in a fic, it can be hard to not get repetitive but you also don’t want them to be too similar. as a general recommendation, differences between scenes shouldn’t come from language or anything like that, but from things like setting or content (positions, actual sexual acts, etcetera). if they fuck in a bedroom twice, then maybe change it up - make it the shower or against the wall next time. and again, the atmosphere! switch it up!!!

also remember that you don’t have to include penetration to write a successful/satisfying smut scene! there’s plenty of other things your characters can do to get off and establish intimacy. i think one of the above resources mentions it but you also don’t always have to include the foreplay or every single step for the smut scene, especially if there’s already been a smut scene with all of those components. obviously, make it clear that the prep occurred already and that they’re being safe, etc, but you don’t actually have to show all of that stuff if you don’t want! and contrastingly, if there’s only one smut scene and it’s a longer fic, feel free to include more of the foreplay/build-up!

- balancing physical and emotional aspects

this one depends again on what type of scene you’re writing but it’s also good general advice. you don’t want to write a smut scene that glosses over all the physical aspects and just focuses on the feelings of a character to the point that you have no idea what they’re even doing but you also don’t want the opposite.

one thing i try to do is keep the descriptions of movements/actions to a minimum - that’s majority of what gets repetitive when you start to have multiple scenes in a fic and sometimes it includes unnecessary explanations for things. that isn’t to say you shouldn’t make sure the reader understands what’s going on (this is why watching porn is helpful - so you can see the best way to describe different positions and how bodies are moving in relation to each other. i know a lot of people don’t like porn but if you can tolerate it, this is literally one of the best ways to see visually what you want to write).

- dialogue

okay this wasn’t initially part of my list, but i just wanted to make a small note on it! dialogue during smut is honestly one of the most intimidating parts, at least in my opinion but a general rule to follow if you’re like me is: less is more. 

and again!! dialogue should reflect the type of scene you’re writing. dirty talk is vastly differently from sappy compliments and you can have both in one, but thee has to be a balance! 

dialogue is also one of the best ways to differentiate the participating characters and establish their dynamic. this goes beyond dialogue actually, but this whole post is unorganized at this point so let’s go with it. no two characters will act the same during sex! some are loud, some are quiet, some are dominant, and some are submissive. and guess what? that shows through when they talk!! things like begging, teasing/taunting, praising, and other verbal components all tell you something about the character so keep that in mind too! 

also not quite dialogue but still verbal so sounds! things like whimpering, whining, gasping, groaning, moaning, grunting, growling (if it’s abo... or one of them just likes that sort of thing), and also screaming/yelping/crying out are all things that are regularly seen in smut scenes. 

- practice!!

this may go without saying but i’m still going to say it. the only way to get better at something is by doing it again and again and the more you do it, the more you’ll learn and improve and the easier it’ll get. it may seem daunting right now but eventually it’ll be like second nature. the first full smut scene i ever wrote was literally less than a year ago (march, i believe) and i’ve written many many since then, some better than others, all showcasing new knowledge and techniques that i may not have utilized before. i honestly don’t even want to reread that first scene but i also know i don’t have to reread it to know i’ve improved a lot since then and so can anyone!

i have absolutely no idea if this is helpful or not but hopefully it is in some small way?? if you or anyone has any more specific questions that i can maybe help with, let me know! and sorry again that this is so unbelievably late!

[itsanerdlife]

Wreck My World 7/28

Pairing: Peter Parker x Castle!Reader

Warnings: Language. Sexual comments, language, and insinuated moments. Death. Violence. Threats. Stalking. Lying. Alpha male Peter. Fighting. So much arguing and snarky comments.

Posting: Monday. Wednesday. Friday.

They say it’s the sweet girls you should watch out for. But really, you should watch out for the trouble maker who lives next door. He was told to say away from her. Off limits, boy. But he was never good with the rules. The sweet girl with the sassy attitude, off limits to him was everything he wanted. He turned her into a rebel, shedding that sweet girl away. He never guessed his created a monster. That she’d turn around and rip his heart out. Leaving him holding his shattered heart in hand as she slipped off to chase her dreams. Skip a couple years down the road. Peter’s duck tapped his heart back together. Some how it still beats for the girl who destroyed it. Now she’s back home, her dreams failed her. But the rules are still the same. But now Peter has his own rules. Stop staring at her. Stop wanting her. Stop dreaming about her. Stop lurking around in the dark. Stop pining for her. He’s not giving in that easy, but that doesn’t mean anyone else can have her. She’s still his and he’ll do whatever he has to, too uncover her dark secrets.

Tag List Is Open!!

You shove your phone into your cup holder trying to avoid the notifications coming in. Nat is ever so interested in why your phone keeps lighting up. You flip on your turn signal and switch lanes. Nat snatches up your phone.

“Is this Secret Boy? Blowing up your phone?” She taunts, hitting your lock button to light up the screen.

“Nat!! No!!” You grab for your phone, but it’s too late. She’s taking in all the notifications and comments on your screen. “Fuck.” You slump in your seat.

“Y/N, what the fuck is all this?” She turns your phone towards you confusion on her face. Her red hair is tied into a braid, falling over her shoulder.

“Just stuff.” You shrug, not looking at her. You continue to drive to the store.

“What are you posting?” She blinks at your phone.

“Just photos.” You shrug, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“You’re lying. Why would you lie to me? Are you hiding something?” She looks offended when you glance over. Pulling into the parking lot you park quickly.

“If I tell you, you have to swear to never speak of it to anyone else.” You turn holding out your pinky. You and Nat had been best friends since you were toddlers, she never got to meet her dad, but he was apart of the club. She hooks her with yours.

“Swear.” She nods. You take your phone from her, opening it up and your Instagram app. You turn the phone towards her letting her see.

“I run a private account. That’s linked to my website. The account is more like a PG version of what I post on the website.” You explain.

“Why?” She looks up.

“Money. People have to subscribe to my site, and I’ve sold a lot of the photos on my account.” You shrug.

“This is what you’re doing for money?” She looks up.

“Pretty much. Don’t judge me, I kind of like it.” You admit.

“No I’m not. I’m just shocked. You really do have dark secrets.” She nods. “Is this why you’re always on your phone?” She smirks.

“It’s a lot. Running two sites and taking the photos.” You shrug.

“I mean.” She grins. “I could take over your account.” She has a wicked grin. “I mean I’ll get good photos and post them so you can focus on the dirty photos.” She laughs.

“Why would you want to help me?” You lift a brow.

“You said you like it. It’s your life, you’re an adult, besides this has clearly empowered you in many ways.” She laughs.

“Alright. To the grave though.” You stick out your pinky again.

“To the grave.” She grins. 

The both of you climb out of your car heading into the store. Nat is scrolling through your Instagram, as you pick up a few things. A chill runs down your spine as you pick out fruit. The feeling of someone watching you was almost uncomfortable. You look around, wondering if someone was staring. But you didn’t see anyone.

“What?” Nat looks over at you.

“Does it feel like someone’s watching us?” You ask softly.

“No. Do you?” She lifts her brow, concerned.

“I think I’m just worried I’ll run into someone I don’t want to see.” You snort, shaking your head. But in the depths of your spine that feeling lingered. 

------------- 

They stood outside smoking, taking a break from training. Buck let’s out his smoke slowly.

“Billy.” He nods.

“What?��� Billy smirks.

“That niece of yours.” Buck nods slowly. “Why did she leave in the first place?” He wonders. Billy smirks, taking a pull from his smoke. Peter shifts, trying to avoid making eye contact.

“Said she wanted to see if she could catch her dreams.” Billy chuckles.

“Dreams?” Buck lifts his brow.

“Photography. Girls obsessed with the camera.” Billy smirks, his eyes cut to Peter. He tries to remain calm, act natural but the weight of Billy’s gaze was making him start to sweat.

“Never would have guessed. So what she’s back? Didn’t work out?” Buck wonders.

“Guess not.” Billy replies something in his tone Peter couldn’t place. 

But his eyes slowly drifted from Peter finally. The urge to throw up was intense. Billy had been doing that, watching him closely since Y/N’s return. Like he knew there was something there between the two of them. But that wasn’t possible, nobody knew about them. Well except Bucky now.

---------

When he pulls in the drive Howie is standing at the fence, talking to Y/N. She laughs and Howie just about burst bright red in the face. He stammers over his words. Peter’s brow yanks down, watching his little brother. He gets off his bike, walking over to join them.

“What’s up?” He glances between the two.

“Nothing. Just catching up.” Howie shrugs, looking down at his shoes.

“God Howie, are you blushing?” Y/N laughs, and Howie pinks into his neck.

“I’m going to go, somewhere else.” Howie mutters, turning around he hurries towards the house. Peter looks from his brother to his ex.

“What did you do to my brother?” He smirks.

“Really nothing.” She laughs. “We pulled in at the same time. I said hi and then asked how your folks were. He’s been flustered and blushing since.” She shrugs. “Are we sure he’s not a virgin still?” She lifts a brow.

“At this point I’m not even sure.” Peter rolls his eyes. “I’ll talk to him.” He mutters.

“I’m sure you will.” She tsks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He looks over at her.

“You have your, Punching Howie face on.” She tips her head smirking at him.

“I don’t have a punch Howie face.” He scoffs.

“You do. You’re wearing it now.” She sasses.

“Well you have a bad lying face.” He calls her out. Her eyes widen, mouth slack.

“You’re a spiteful little dick, Peter.” She glares at him. 

“Wrong brother. Howie has the small dick.” Peter grins at her, backing away.

“I hate you.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“But you know I’m not wrong.” He chuckles, turning and jogging up his steps. He’s through the door, shoving it shut behind him. “Howie.” He growls looking at his brother.

“I, ah, I, Peter.” Howie holds up his hands.

“I’m going to punch you or I’m going to punch you.” Peter warns him as he takes two steps towards his brother.

“Or you could not.” Howie steps back.

“Give me one good reason.” Peter’s tone edged as he grabs his brother by the jacket.

“I know Y/N’s dirty secret!” Howie splutters out.

“What dirty secret?” Peter’s brow drops and his interest peeks.

“Let go and swear on Morgan you will keep your ass in this house, and in control of your rage.” Howie nods. Peter lets go of him.

“Why on Morgan?” Peter squints.

“Because we both know your temper is quick and you’re in love with Y/N.” Howie calls him out. He swallows, frozen in his spot. “You’re my brother, I know you. Even when you don’t want me too.” Howie smirks.

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

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @irepeldirt @jordan-ia @jcc04220 @dumblani @nishanki1 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @rogvewitch @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sexyvixen7 @doctoranon @queentoffee @abschaffer2 @tony-stank3 @tomhardy41 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @cutekittybast @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @thelostallycat @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @queenkrissy11 @shield-agent78 @elite4cekalyma @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @scooby-doodoo @chanelmadrid13 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @itzmegaaaaaaan @optimistic-babes @elizabethaellison @rainbowkisses31 @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @thatpeachybandgirl @supernatural-girl97

@thefridgeismybestie @dumbbitchenergytm @eggingamazinglove @awkwardfangirl2014 @queenoftheunderdark @laneygthememequeen @writingaworldofmyown @shann-the-artist-moon @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mcuwillbethedeathofme @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​  @stupendoussciencenaturepanda​ @supernatural-strangerthings-1980​

Peter ‘Fuck Me I’m Weak’ Parker: @ml7010​ @gabile18​ @dkpink123​ @boltsgirl919​ @everthenerd​ @ms-rogers06​ @crayonwriting​ @honey-bee-holly​ @tom-hollands-blog​ @messofamasterpiece​ @elenarogersbarnes13​ @fandomsstolemylife00​ @britkane-shsl-librarian​ @kiss-the-stars-goodbye​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​

WMW: @nadzhaf​ @csigeoblue​ @itsbebeyyy​ @shirukitsune​ @amazingfantasticmarvelous​

[goshen-applecrumbledore]

Fic: Pine sweat opening chapter preview 🏕✨️

It's wincest wednesday and I'm tired of not posting fic! working on long projects is exhausting!

Here's the opening scene of a wincest time travel fic I'm working on.

The full fic is a big mysterious case fic about... hunting, camping and hating yourself, pining, sharing a tent and falling in love with your brother. It will be out in a few months I think. This preview is 1.8k words, takes place in season 5. enjoy! tell me what you think!

Chapter 1 - HEAT

Winter, 2009. The radiator in their motel room was broken, but it was worth putting up with for the twenty-dollar discount on the room. Dean took a decadently long shower to warm up, and Sam slept with towels draped over his comforter.

They would only get a few hours’ rest, but it was better than they'd had lately, both of them hounded as they were by angels, and Sam by guilt and regret. The cold was bad enough that Sam looked over at the lumpy shape of Dean in the other bed and considered saying something about sharing body heat, but Dean would never let him live it down. Dean wasn't even in the mood to share a meal with him lately, so he figured sharing a bed would be a stretch. He fell asleep thinking about Michael and Lucifer and how he hadn't heard Dean sing in the car for weeks. 

He woke up sweating.

It was disorienting, bright and screaming of wrongness. The bed wasn't a bed anymore. He was somewhere else, hard ground under him and bright, outside-bright, brighter than South Dakota got on any winter morning. 

He blinked awake with blurry eyes, pushing up, and looked for the gun under his pillow that was gone because the pillow was gone, the bed was gone, the whole damn room was gone, and it was dirt and rocks under his palm, not sheets.

He was about to shout for Dean when he saw Dean laying on the ground next to him.

"Dean." He shook Dean’s shoulder and looked around, frantic. They were at the edge of a forest: deciduous trees, near midday by the position of the sun. The air was clean but burning hot, and muggy.

He got up on his haunches and watched the bushes for movement. No bindings on Dean's wrists or his own, and no marks that said any had been there. No phones either, no knives or guns, and he didn’t remember waking up. There was nothing between his bed in the frigid motel room and here.

"Dean."

"Radiator kicked in, goddamn," Dean mumbled. "Turn it off."

Sam hissed, "You are on—the—ground."

Dean snuffled into his folded arms and made a confused noise, lifted his head and turned over. Sam's hand pulled him over faster.

Dean woke up all at once. "Shit."

"Thank you."

Sam watched impatiently as Dean went through the same frantic checklist he had, including patting an invisible pillow for his gun.

"Where the hell are we?" Dean said, sitting up.

It was a forest, as lush as it could be for being so dry, and Jesus, the heat. Sweat rolled down Sam's temple just sitting there.

"Here." Sam picked up Dean's hand and examined his wrist, his forearm. "Lemme check for needles."

Dean watched him turn his arm over. "Didn't wake up, not for a second. You?"

"I don't think so. You feel groggy?"

"Nah."

Sam didn't either. He checked Dean's veins, the inside of his arm and the side of his neck, pulse thumping hard under his fingers. No needle marks.

"It could be worse?" he offered. He got to his feet and gave Dean a hand up. "Maybe they left us the car."

Sam wiped the sweat from his face, looked at the sun's position again, and tried and failed to see any kind of landmark through the trees. He picked a direction and went.

Dean asked, “Who’s they, you think?”

Sam thought about being held down by those guys in the bar when he tried to make his clean break from Dean, spitting blood. 

“Rogue hunters pissed about the apocalypse, if I had to guess.”

That was only a few weeks ago, and it wasn’t impossible that those guys or other guys like them had escalated it, knocked him and Dean out and abandoned them in the wilderness to starve as some kind of street justice. He hadn’t told Dean about any of it. It felt too pathetic.

Dean just nodded at that. Sam tucked his hair behind his ear and glanced over at Dean walking next to him: sullen, black T-shirt sweating through, hair stuck up on one side from sleep.

Things hadn’t been great between them. Sam didn't know how to fix it besides acting like a kicked dog and trying to pretend he wasn’t. They were better together, sure, but only because they didn't know how to do anything else. Dean still didn't totally trust him and Sam didn't trust himself, they were just too fucked up to even consider going it alone, not with the angels circling the way they were. It was getting better, they were trying, but they were never fully in step. Maybe getting kidnapped would give them something to focus on together.

A child's shout rang out through the trees. Sam twitched, but it wasn't a scream of horror. It was joyous. Dean nodded towards the sound. 

"Look alive. Civilization."

Sam followed behind. There was a neat diamond of sweat between Dean's shoulder blades; Sam always sweated worse than him, and he was drenched by comparison. It had been a long time since he’d felt this kind of heat, physical around them and thick in his lungs.

Dean parted wispy trees with his forearm and let them spring back, stepping through the spiky underbrush, silent. There was a clearing up ahead and Sam could make out a squat bungalow through the trees, its siding bleached by the sun. A kid yelped again and there were thumps, feet on grass, scuffling. Sam didn't know if it was better or worse that they weren't deeper in the woods—survival would have been a project, a trust exercise.

As they crept up to the edge of the clearing, he could make out the shapes of two kids in a dusty overgrown lot behind an equally overgrown cabin. At first, Sam thought they were fighting, but it quickly became clear that they weren't.

They were boys in their early teens, one appallingly skinny and one normal skinny, one taller than the other, both white, about the same dusty brown hair colour. The short one shoved the tall one and tried to hook his ankle behind his leg to trip him. They grappled to the ground, pulling at shirts, pulling hair, vicious and violent, but with no ill intent, like they were wrestling.

Sam and Dean crouched in the bushes and watched them, vaguely embarrassed. It was a big clearing and the kids hadn't noticed them. Dean leaned in, putting his head right near Sam's.

“They won’t be alone. Wait.”

The kids looked kind of ragged, their sneakers scuffed and old, and it didn’t seem like much of a stretch that whatever family lived in the dilapidated bungalow could have been responsible for this whole thing. Either they were some backwater freaks with a stake in the apocalypse and they were right to hide from them, or these people were perfectly normal, and they could go up and ask for directions. There was no visible street past the house ringed with trees. Sam could see the edge of a car around the front, plus a decrepit old truck and the rusted frame of a station wagon. They waited.

A cackle from one of the boys, then:

"Ow. Ow! Fine, jeez, you win."

They both flopped onto their backs in the grassy dirt and panted up at the sky. The taller one was grinning, the other looked sour.

"Two to one," the grinning one said.

Sam listened for an accent to place them and couldn't hear one—maybe some faint southern twang, but these trees didn't match the region. It was arid. The heat seemed about right for the South, but where did it get so hot in November? How long were they out for to be taken somewhere so much hotter than the blizzard they'd fallen asleep in?

The bigger kid hinged at the waist and sat up. He was wearing a Zeppelin shirt. Dean used to have one like it, it had tour dates on the back, Sam spent his whole childhood looking at it. The kid's face was covered in freckles, enough to be seen from a distance. His hair wasn't blond and also wasn't not blond, and it was cut short, almost military.

Sam's hand shot out and twisted in Dean's sleeve. Suddenly the heat was more than oppressive, it was choking him.

Dean's sweaty hand covered his and tried to pry him off. "Ow, Sam, what—"

"He looks like you," Sam said all in a rush, feeling stupid, feeling fucking insane. "Like, a lot like you. Can you see him?"

Dean's hand was still on Sam's, but it wasn't moving. They both stared.

"I wasn't that small," Dean said eventually, "but—"

"You had that shirt, though, right?"

"Sammy—"

"It says '1971 WORLD TOUR,' I can see it from here. That's the same one. You—"

"Look at the other kid."

The shorter one had sat up. He was younger, all bones, a soft little-kid face. His hair hung in his eyes and his ears stuck out.

"So?"

Dean's fingers slowly closed around his own, still clenched in his sleeve, until it hurt.

"That's you," Dean said.

Sam's heart went nuts.

"I didn't look like that."

"You fucking did. He looks just like you."

"Not even close! But he"—Sam jabbed a finger at the kid in the Zeppelin shirt—"is one-hundred percent you."

"That doesn't look anything like me! The shirt's messing you up, but that is totally you. Look at his nose! He's—"

"Boys!"

A voice barked from the house. Both Sam and Dean, and the kids on the lawn, twitched with reflexive panic.

The screen door creaked open in the shadow of the cabin's porch and a figure came out.

He hit the sun. It was John Winchester, shielding his eyes and squinting into the yard.

Dean's fingers crushed Sam's so hard he swore he felt something crack. He couldn't bring himself to pull them away.

"C'mon," John called to the kids. "You're on your own for dinner, so bring a twenty. I'll pick you up tonight."

Even the gist of him was immediately recognizable across the distance; Sam could have recognized him by the back of one elbow. John was a concept more than a man, and God, he looked young. He was so broad. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the heat. Sam's thousand emotions all crammed into his chest together: grief, relief, joy, love, rage.

The boys scrambled to their feet and brushed dirt off their knees; one from his jeans, the other from skin. They said, nearly in unison: "Yessir."

John went back inside and they jogged across the yard and followed him in. The shorter one tripped the other going up the stairs and got swatted for it. The shorter one. The— Sam stared at the back of his head.

Dean's hand fell away from his once the boys were inside.

They stayed crouching in the bushes for a while longer, staring at the closed screen door and listening to the indistinct voices from within, loud in all the quiet.

Sam craned his neck to look at the car in the front yard again, like he really needed to check. As if he could have ever mistaken that tail light.

(that's it! thank you for reading! I was tired of not sharing anything. stay tuned for the full fic in the next few months I hope)