#but only saturday so far... the bird sits with me

[kil9]

last satuday there was a bird hanging out on my window for like an hour and now today (saturday) theres TWO birds (she brought a friend) but now i have to wonder do birds know the days of the week ???

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 7

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,010

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

June 2021

Nat glanced out the window of her San Fernando apartment from where she sat on the couch, seeing the bright sunshine streaming in through the windows and able to hear the chirping birds outside, but it didn’t seem to lift her low spirits. It had been three weeks since Chris had gone to Europe but somehow it seemed so much longer. Having everything change and finally discussing the elephant in the room the morning of his departure was crappy timing, but Chris leaving had been even harder than she’d imagined it’d be. It’d given her the space in her mind to fill with doubts and worries, scared he’d come back only to cut things off with her or simply stay in Boston for months on end, unwilling to even see her. But a simple look around her apartment quelled her fears, seeing the two bouquets of flowers he’d sent her this week, remembering the others that had been delivered to her office as well, and his quiet, low voice murmuring “I’m crazy about you, Nat,” echoed in her mind. All it took was that and the memory of their never-ending text thread, even despite the nine hour time difference between them, to feel confidence flood her. 

But it still felt so far away until she’d get to see him again, not even halfway through their time apart. It felt so much easier during the week when she was able to focus on work, her brain being occupied with her tasks, but the weekends were hard. So often in the spring, they’d hung out together, either at Chris’ home or Nat’s apartment, on the weekends, that the sudden free time was incredibly lonely. Which is what resulted in her still laying in bed at nearly noon on a sunny, warm Saturday. As if on cue, her phone pinged and she instantly grabbed it, smiling widely when she saw Chris a text from Chris. 

Nat liked his message before tossing her phone back down on the bed, sulking back into her emotional funk. She mindlessly clicked through the channels on her television, trying to find something to watch, settling on an episode of Friends, then once it ended, she switched over to her streaming service to turn on her comfort movie. But before she could even click play, her doorbell rang, making Nat’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t been expecting anyone but decided to climb out of bed, throwing on a sweatshirt before opening the door and finding a white bag sitting in front of her door. 

Nat looked down the hallway for the sign of anyone but found it empty, only making her more curious than before. She quickly scooped up the bag and closed the door with her foot, not even being able to wait until she could put it on the table to pop the plastic container open and find some fresh tacos, a smile on her face instantly but it wasn’t from the food. It was because she knew exactly who it was from. 

Her phone buzzed with a text from Chris, but she ignored the message – likely telling her he was back in his room – to instead hit the “call” button, holding the phone up to her ear and she dug further into the bag and found containers of guacamole and queso for her, both of which she loved.

Chris answered the call but Nat cut off his greeting, asking, “You sent me lunch, didn’t you?” 

She listened as he chuckled to himself, something creaking in the background as he sat down. “Well I couldn’t let you go hungry, now could I?” He replied, his voice amused as she munched on a few tortilla chips and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. 

“I don’t think I would have starved,” she muttered, rolling her eyes to herself. “In fact with the way I’ve been emotional eating lately, I’m sure my jeans would appreciate me missing a meal so my ass could fit better in them.” 

He made a noise of disagreement at her words, but his voice was light as he shot back, “I’ve seen the way your ass fits in jeans and it’s pretty fuckin’ perfect if you ask me,” 

“At this rate, by the time you come home my ass isn’t going to be fitting into any of my jeans,” she muttered again, sitting down at her island and putting the call on speaker phone as she reached for a taco. 

But Chris’ low chuckle was nothing if not mischievous, and his words matched as told her, “That’s fine with me, because I prefer you without them anyway.” 

“You’re trouble,” she murmured, pausing to take a bite from her taco. She listened to him on the other end as he moved around a little, wishing for nothing more than to be next to him right now. “And I really miss you.” 

“I miss you too, Nattie. I miss you a helluva lot.”  

Those words made her heart clench because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was telling her the truth. She could hear the vulnerability in his voice and having him be so honest and upfront with his emotions was something so refreshing and unlike what she’s experienced with any other man before. He told her about his day, about what he and Scott got up to in France after he’d slept in, exhausted from the long few weeks from home and his own bed. But while she tried to listen to him, she couldn’t help but relish in how much it felt like he was there, right next to her, drinking a beer and eating a taco, nudging her with his elbow every time he told a joke, smirking at her every time she rolled her eyes at him. She missed him, so so much, enough that it nearly hurt.  

She had finished the food and put away the leftover queso and was now heading back to lay in bed as he was laughing about a mix-up with their Uber that night. She couldn’t help but remember how miserable she’d been, not even an hour ago, having been laying in this bed, stewing in her thoughts and missing him. And while she still missed him, almost more than she had before, if that was possible, she was… happy. She was content, and she felt as though he felt the same about her, and it felt good. It was sad and lonely right now, but it felt good. “God, I just love talking to you, Nattie,” he murmured, his low voice rumbling right as she slipped underneath her duvet. “I just… enjoy you.” 

And in that moment, those words felt like she’d been hit with a ton of bricks. Her stomach clenched in knots and instantly tears sprang to her eyes, those words bringing out so many emotions that had been buried deep inside her so long. She had always been the black sheep of her family, and although none of them had ever made her feel anything but loved, she knew she was different. She wasn’t strong and steady like her dad. She wasn’t level-headed and wise like her eldest sister, Heather. She wasn’t intelligent and driven like Alex. She was Natalie… She was emotional, sensitive and had a big personality, and was everything that her family wasn’t. 

She knew that she was a lot to handle. Nat knew she wasn’t easy from her passionate and intense emotions and had felt for so long that those were flaws in her, thinking back to Shane’s words that often were dismissive and insisted only on talking to her when she had “calmed down” and “stopped being dramatic.” She had always felt as if she was lucky Shane put up with her personality, working so hard to tone it down to become more rational, less of her artist brain taking over. But somehow Chris hadn’t made her feel that way. He made her feel that he actually liked those things about her, rather than simply tolerating her and it was something she truly never even entertained being able to have in her life. 

But here he was, so effortlessly expressing how much he simply enjoyed… her. And there was nothing that touched her heart more than that. But it wasn’t just the fact he was saying that, it was the fact that his actions had shown her just how much he valued her. It wasn't because of the flowers or the random gifts like today, it was because of how much time he always carved out of his day for her, even if it meant waking up early after a long night of shoots to catch her before she went to bed. 

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper when she admitted to him, “I miss you so much.” 

“I miss you too, Nattie,” he replied, a deep longing in his voice. “What are you going to do this afternoon?” 

She shrugged, picking up her remote and turning her television on again, the screen flipping onto the info page for a movie. “I was just going to lay in bed and watch Casablanca,” she told him, her thumb hovering over the play button. 

But Chris interrupted her as he rushed to tell her, “Don’t start it yet, let me get it up first,” his voice slightly muffled as he moved around in his own bed. 

She couldn’t help but smile from where her head laid on the pillow, phone on her chest while she waited to hit play until he said he was ready. The two stayed on the phone the entire duration of the film, sharing their thoughts in key points, crying at all the same moments, and sharing the experience together, simply enjoying getting to spend time with one another despite being on different continents. 

Nat had been so caught up in talking about nothing with him that she hadn’t even realized the time, shouting out an expletive when she saw the time and quickly apologized to him, saying she had to go and she’d be back in an hour. 

The phone call ended hurriedly as Nat pulled on a pair of bike shorts and a t-shirt, running out the door after she jammed her feet into a pair of Birkenstocks. The drive to the Burbank Airport thankfully flew by, and soon she found her sister in the arrivals pick-up, waiting near the curb with her bag. 

Nat guided her Izusu Trooper to the curb, parking it in front of Heather and jumping out to greet her. She wrapped her oldest sister in a hug, squeezing her as she said, “Heather! I’m so glad you’re here!” 

“Me too,” Heather replied, quiet as she hugged Nat back, before they moved to load her things in the trunk. “Although I’d be a lot happier if I was here just to see you rather than go to this boring conference all week.” 

“Well I’m going to break you out of it early a couple evenings and we’re going to Disneyland,” Nat smirked as she closed the hatch, heading back to the driver’s side as Heather went to the passenger.

As they sat in their seats, Heather looked at her with a relieved grin as she said, “Thank goodness.” 

They were quiet as Nat drove them back onto the freeway and Heather sent her husband, Ryan, a text that she’d found Nat. “Are you still planning on coming home for Ella’s birthday?” Heather asked, eyes bouncing between the wide freeway and Nat.  

Nat scoffed, knowing she’d had the date circled on her calendar for weeks. “Are you kidding? Like I’d miss a unicorn themed birthday party?” She asked Heather, almost incredulously. It was the one thing she’d been looking forward to since Chris left, excited for the chance to go home for a weekend. She’d be in the home stretch after that, with just over a month until Chris wrapped filming and came home. 

“The girls are so happy you’re coming,” Heather interrupted her thoughts, causing Nat’s attention to shift to her two nieces, who she adored and missed so much. “And so are the rest of us. We all got so used to having you around last year that it just hasn’t felt right now having you home since Christmas.” 

“It’ll be so good to come home, it’s been lonely here lately,” Nat admitted quietly as she shifted in her seat. 

“The girls have been missing you like crazy,” Heather added, pausing as her phone buzzed. “Especially Lily. We’ve been trying to get her a little more out of her shell by putting her in some activities.” 

Nat frowned, listening to her words. She’d always known – everyone in their family had – that Lily was the tough nut, the shy one who didn’t like new situations or new people as much, but she’d assumed that no news had been good news. “How’s that been going?” She asked Heather, glancing over at her as she changed lanes. 

“We tried soccer and she cried the whole way to practice. Then we tried gymnastics and that only lasted two sessions,” Heather recalled, but then paused and smiled suspiciously at Nat. “But now we put her in an art class and she’s loving that. She came home the other day and said she’s learning how to be an artist like Auntie Nattie.” 

Nat’s shoulders slouched and tears burned her eyes, threatening to spill as she listened to her sister. “Heather, don’t make me cry while I’m driving!” She finally replied, smacking Heather lightly with her right hand as she stared at the road. 

Heather smiled, shoving Nat back playfully before she twisted in her seat to face her. “I was talking to Ryan the other day and I think we’re going to bring the girls down in September and do Disneyland,” she informed her, then shrugged and added, “I’m going to see if Alex and Zach want to bring Carson and you know dad will come.” 

Nat nodded, already making plans in her head as she told her, “Just tell me when and I’ll take the week off.” 

“Ryan’s just waiting to hear back from his boss so I’ll let you know,” Heather promised. “I just want us to do more things with all of us together.” 

Nat exited the freeway, stopping at the light right outside of her apartment complex before she turned into the parking lot. “I’d really love that,” she whispered.

Heather watched Nat carefully as they grabbed their things, but nothing was said until they were inside Nat’s apartment. “...Dad told me what you said when he was down here with you… about being lonely,” Heather began as she rolled her suitcase into Nat’s room, turning to meet Nat’s eyes concernedly. “He’s worried about you, Nat.” 

But Nat shrugged, biting her lower lip as she insisted, “I’m okay.” 

“Are you really? Because dad wasn’t very convinced.” 

“No, I am,” she repeated, then shrugged as she remembered the way she’d felt only an hour ago while she was on the phone with Chris. “It’s just been getting back in the groove of things after being home so long in the pandemic and it’s been an adjustment. But I’m happy, Heather, I promise.” 

Heather gave her a look that showed her confidence in Nat’s answer, but soon all was forgotten as they settled on the couch to watch The Parent Trap. Nat welcomed the distraction from the questioning from Heather, but within an hour of her arrival, Heather turned her head, leaning an arm against the couch and asked, “Hey, what ever happened with that guy? Chris, right?” 

Nat sighed, knowing she had a lot to say but just wanted to enjoy the night with her sister. “I’m going to give you the whole story but it’s a long one so I’ll tell you over breakfast tomorrow,” she told her, shaking her head. 

Heather raised an eyebrow, an amused look on her face as she mentioned, “Sounds like it’s going to be a good one.” 

“There’s a lot to tell,” Nat began, but then shook her head again as she smiled a little. “But I need you fully awake to hear it all.” 

As they turned their attention back to the movie, within minutes Nat’s phone vibrated incessantly against its place on the coffee table, the screen telling her Chris was calling. She accepted the FaceTime call, fully intending to quickly tell him that she’d call him back tomorrow, but seeing his tired face on the other end of the line, so handsome despite that mustache above his upper lip caused her to linger. 

She couldn’t help but smile, seeing him halfway propped up in bed, one impossibly thick muscular arm behind his head and the other holding up his phone, resting it on his stomach and letting Nat see his bare tattooed chest that she could vividly remember running her hands across. She tipped her screen slightly away from Heather, not intending to hide Chris from her but wanting to have the chance to tell her what had happened and who he was before this, but she didn’t get a chance to say anything first. 

“Hey I know you’re busy but I’m just headed to bed and wanted to call you real quick,” he told her quickly, his eyes glancing off screen as he messed with his pillow for a moment. “I just miss you Nattie, and I wanted to hear your voice.” 

Heather sat up across the couch from her, her eyes wide as she whispered, “Wait, is this him?”  

Nat turned the phone so that Heather couldn’t see him, her eyes bouncing between Heather’s amused, excited look and Chris’ tired eyes on her phone. “Um yeah, but I’ll just be a second,” she told him, her voice sounding weird even to herself. 

Heather all but whined at those words, her voice hushed as she told Nat, “No, no! I want to see him.” 

Chris’ brows furrowed as Heather’s voice carried over the line, his voice quiet as he asked, “You got company, Nattie?” 

“He calls you Nattie? Stop, that’s so cute,” Heather gasped, her voice a little louder as she watched Nat. “I want to see him.” 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” 

Nat rolled her eyes, sending a glare Heather’s way before she looked back at Chris, informing him, “It’s just my oldest sister.” 

“Heather’s there?” Chris asked, sitting up as he reached for something and then pulled a shirt over his head, jamming his arms through the sleeves quickly. 

Heather had a smirk on her face as she listened to the conversation, making Nat kick her leg lightly. She ignored Heather’s laughter as she told Chris, who was turning on the bedside lamp, “Yeah she’s here for a conference this week.” 

“Turn your phone, I want to see,” Heather practically ordered. Nat waited until Chris nodded then turned the phone as she scooted down the couch. She held it in front of Heather’s face, watching the phone as Chris waved a little awkwardly. “You’re shitting me right now.” 

She smirked a little as Chris laughed loudly and Heather’s jaw dropped, rushing to defend herself and tell her sister, “I was going to tell you tomorrow.” 

“You’ve just been casually keeping it a secret that you’re dating Chris EVANS?” 

“I said I was going to tell you tomorrow!” She repeated, her voice rising as she took her phone back with a frown, but it didn’t stay long as Chris laughed again at their mini-argument.

Chris smiled at her, but then cut in and said, “It's nice to meet you, Heather. I’ve heard so much about you and your family from Nattie.” 

“I wish I could say the same about you, but don’t worry, I’m going to get some details out of her before the night is over,” Heather laughed as she shook her head to herself. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to call and say goodnight,” Chris sighed, laughing a little as Nat all but glared at Heather. “Can I call ya’ tomorrow, Nattie? I have a night shoot so I’ll be around most of the day.” 

She turned her attention back to Chris, nodding and telling him, “I’ll call you in the morning.” 

“Nice to see you Heather,” Chris called, waving a little as Heather did as well. “Goodnight, Nattie.” 

She wished him a goodnight just before he hung up, then tossed her phone onto the couch cushion next to her with a sigh as she leaned back, unsure what to say given Heather’s recent revelations. “Okay, what the hell? How is it that you didn’t mention any of this?” She asked loudly.

“In my defense, I did tell you about Chris,” Nat told her, handing her hands up innocently as she stared at Heather.

Heather rolled her eyes, scoffing as she corrected her, “You failed to mention it was Chris Evans. That’s kind of a big deal!” 

“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it. I didn’t want it to be a big deal when I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with him being in Europe to film for a few months,” Nat admitted, biting her lip nervously as she remembered those fears. 

Heather tilted her head, looking at Nat curiously as she spoke. “He called you just to say goodnight and hear your voice… so I think you can be sure,” she told her, leaning an arm on the back cushion of the couch as she looked at her younger sister. “How do you feel about him, Nattie?” 

Nat sighed, unable to help herself as she smiled and admitted, “Heather… he’s incredible.” 

Heather all but scoffed again, joking, “Well duh, just look at him.” 

“I mean, I’m not complaining about that,” Nat assured her with a short laugh, but then waved a hand vaguely. “But it’s so much more than that, Chris is… one of my best friends.” 

Heather’s smile turned genuinely happy for Nat, and she reached out to touch her hand as she told her, “That’s the way it should be.” 

Nat nodded, swallowing some emotion away as she confessed, “I just have come to see that I never had that with Shane. I never felt like we were friends.” She paused, reaching for the box of tissues on the coffee table as she shrugged and wiped her eyes. “I never felt like he enjoyed spending time with me… and looking back I see that I never felt like he even enjoyed me unless I was doing exactly what he wanted.” 

Heather’s face fell as she listened to Nat’s admission, and Nat knew that despite having never told any of her family that feeling before, it was more than likely a known topic of discussion among the other Marton members. They hadn’t been shy in telling her after she and Shane broke up that they weren’t the biggest fans of him towards the end, but Nat could only guess how long they truly felt that way. “But you don’t feel that with Chris?” She asked Nat quietly, a protectiveness in her voice. 

She shook her head, a pleased, but also relieved smile on her lips. “I feel like Chris likes me,” she told Heather, shrugging. “He makes me happy that I’m me, rather than embarrassed.” 

And the matching relieved smile on Heather’s face told Nat all she needed to know about Heather’s gut feeling as she said, “That’s the way that it should be, Nat. That’s how it is when things are right.” 

Heather’s simple words echoed in Nat’s mind as the characters in the movie arrived at the hotel, capturing the older woman’s attention. But Nat couldn’t help but stare at her phone, a tiny grin on her face as she saw a text from Chris, apologizing for the interruption and hoping that she enjoyed Heather’s visit. And for the first time in nearly a month, she felt at ease and content with life, not just with Chris. 

A/N: We can’t wait to hear your thoughts!!! Thank you SO much for reading.

[lillydiana304]

the run in.

the second chapter to the collcction of wives! chapter one here and the series masterlist here

The warm spring fall air was pefect for her light pink flowly tank top. her hair in a phony tail as  she walked to her bakery/flower shop. A smile on her face as she listned to the birds sing.                                                   She unlocked the door and stepped in the, turning on the air conditioner and then starting her morning routine of opening the shop. As 8am hit and she turned closed sign to open a customer walked in.                                                                                                                          

 "hi there! welcome in!" y/n said                                         

  "well hi there sunshine" james spoke, y/n knew who it was just from the nickname.                                             "are you following me?" she said hesitantly                    

 "no, i am not following you. i just found this bakery flower shop thats owner has the same name as you, and face." he shrugged his shoudlers innocently.  

 "we just ran into eachother, is that what your saying james?" y/n said umimpressed. but james on the other hand was feeling a synphony of feelng, swearing he had never felt before. Not with any of his ex wives. 

  “Yes thats ecstasy what im saying” james replied sassly. 

 “Alright stocker what can i get you” y/n said with a little giggle after how sassy reply. 

James could listen to her giggle for the rest of his life, most people would think james thought that way for all of hius wives. But they couldnt be more wrong, sometimes he was bored with his life, with the endless stream of work and ligh class models that the only thing left to do to cure his boredom was to get married. Sharon was a drucken mistake in vegas, natasha was more of a friend who he just had sex with. Millie was the closest thing he had to love but after he found her cheating he sore off love. But even then he didn’t feel this way with her or anyother then with y/n. 

   “Can i get a coffe and a date?” he said, boy was he charming. 

“Yes and maybe” y/n replied 

 “Why maybe?” he questioned 

“Because i dont really know anything about you” she answered honestly. 

  “Then have coffee with me, right here right now.”

 “But im work-” she didnt get to finish her excuse, he cut her off already knowing what she was gonna try and say. 

 “Its 8am and we are the only ones in here” he looked at her expectedly. 

  “alright , one sec well i get something drink and eat”  

Well y/n was making her drink and getting a lemon cake james chose a seat in the far back that was nestled by bookshelves. It was cozy and had privacy even though they were the only ones in the shop he dint want any distractions. James wanted the little sunbeam all to himself, and no could blame. James could see how men and women looked at, wanted her and hold her. 

  “Alright im back” she said sitting down. 

 “lets get to know eachother” 

 

-30 minutes later 

   y/n was laughing so hard her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

 “Oh my that was funny” y/n said trying to catch her breath. She was blushing flower in james’ mind. 

   “Your very beautiful sunshine” james said as he leaned in to swipe a pice of her hair away from her eyes. 

“I-i would like to go on that date with you” y/n was now looking down shyly, james now holding her chin his fingers. He lifted her head up more so her eyes were forced to meet his. 

  “Saturday, 7 o’clock ill pick you up at your place.” he whispered, his lips brushing up against hers. y/n let out a breathly sigh, boy did she want him to kiss her. 

  “Alright prettybaby i gotta get to work, ill see you tomorrow’ he pressed a long kiss to her cheek. She was blushing like a schoolgirl james loved it. 

   “Your late buck” steve said to his friend with a knowing smirk. 

 “Shut up steve” james replied back a sly smile on his face. 

   “You were at her little shop werent you?!” steve said excitedly 

“I might have” was all james said, clearly teasing his friend. 

“What is it with you and her? Shes not the typically the kinda girl you go for” steve abovsered. 

“No she’s not, thats why i like her. Shes like sunshine” a small smile and blush on his cheeks while talking about y/n. 

  “Really? I dont understand, how could she have that empact on you but the others. The others were almost just as pretty as her” steve spoke.

  “She is the most gorgeous woman ive ever said and you know that means something when i guy whos had five wives.” james stopped to get up from his desk and pace around his office. Steve sitting on the couch watching him curiously. 

  “I would say she’s the vert essence of the sun, but even the sun is envious of the way she shine. She is just warm, and kind you can tell by her eyes. It was the first thing i saw.” 

  

taglist: @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @cjand10 @sebsgirl71479

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Tag List: @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 25: Family

Marco returned after a series of apologetic texts explaining that his brothers weren’t letting him leave until he answered some of their questions. Once he walked in the door he set a suitcase and backpack down, took off his shoes and scooped you up into his arms, hugging you close and breathing deep before saying anything.

“Welcome home,” you say quietly, giving him a few soft kisses before he finally set you back down.

“Home, eh?”

“For the foreseeable.” You grin. “You want some tea? From your texts it sounded like your brothers were interrogating you.”

“Tea sounds wonderful, yoi.” He admits, walking into the kitchen with you, and sitting on the breakfast bar. “Ace was the worst of the lot, and he was feeding the others.” He grins and sighs. “I had to promise to visit at least one Saturday a month just to reach my closet.”

“Well, you have your promise for October in the bag.” You point out with a smile. “Since that’s when the party is.”

“I am expecting to hear ‘that doesn’t count’, from someone.” He admits with a grin.

You hand him a cup of tea, stepping back and leaning against the counter top, taking a sip of your own cup. “Any other concessions?”

“They haven’t even met you yet, and I’ve been requested not to horde you all to myself.” He says with a grunt. “I pointed out that you had a say in that, that they couldn’t control, yoi. But also,” he begins taking another sip. “I warned that if they crashed too many dates you might get your fill of them.”

You laugh. “Well, that’s one way to solve that concern.”

“Have you alked to Ivan yet?” He questions, looking over at you before taking another sip.

You shake your head. “I’m going to Monday. Figure I can just let all three of them know at once and then use my work commitments to cut the whole thing short.” You explain with a smile. “I mean, no one’s going to say anything bad, they know better.”

“I feel like ‘willful child’ was something used to describe you.” Marco muses, affection in his voice.

You grin, setting down your cup of tea. “Repeatedly, I’m sure.” You lift yourself up onto the counter to sit and let out a heavy breath. “Less so, before I ran away.”

You pause for a moment, looking around the room before looking back at Marco. “I don’t know the name of the island I was born on, but I know it’s in the New World somewhere. My family were… broken. They were broken. Three brothers, a sister, my mom and dad, all just empty shells going through the motions of living.”

You press your lips together and put your face in your hands for a second, pulling your feet up onto the counter, practically hiding behind your knees.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Marco says softly, staying where he is.

“No, I do. I do,” you admit putting your hands down and doing your best to look at him. “Because it would be cruel to feel this way, and to be this close, and then not say anything." Sorrow, deep and powerful crosses your face, despite your efforts in trying to maintain some level of neutrality.

You knew how the world felt about-

“- My family were nobles.” You say flatly. “Disgraced nobles, as far as the story goes, living in squalor after being removed from the lists.” You look away a little, eyes unfocused on anything in the here and now. “But that life was all I knew. I was born after their fall. I knew nothing else but that house, and it was a little larger than this place. It was hardly squalor, hardly poverty. It was comfortable. Dry and warm when it was cold outside and dry and cool when it was hot outside.

“We had to make our own meals, and clean our own things, but even removed from the lists, there were concessions provided to us. There was a certain image and importance to maintain, as though disgraced nobles were still worthy of more than common folk.”

Licking your lips a little, a bitter sweet smile slips along your features. Your shoulders droop and you sigh. “I was, for a time, happy. Even surrounded in the misery of a family who did little more than lament all they had lost, I wanted for nothing. I ate, cleaned, and played outside. No one paid much mind to me, within the house or without. I had a couple friends in a neighboring town, people who didn’t know who I was, unlike the townsfolk near our home.”

“What worked in my favor was that I didn’t have any of the recessive traits most of the nobles on the island had.” You sigh, quiet for a long moment. Marco didn’t move, even to drink any of his tea, and sat silently until you were ready to continue. “Which eventually did not work in my favor.”

“Lets go sit on the couch.” Marco prompts, getting up from his spot and walking over to you with his arms open. “If you were worried about your lineage scaring me off, yoi, it won’t.”

After a few hitched breaths, you wipe your eyes, scattering the errant tears, before reaching out toward him in return. He lifts you up easily, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and your legs around his waist. There is comfort in the embrace, and the position, and it’s nice to just lean into him for a moment as he makes his way to the living room.

“Am I setting you down, or just sitting down?”

“Just sitting, please.” You reply quietly, moving your legs so you could comfortably lean against him while he sat back on the couch.

“You’re… really okay with it?” You question, voice still quiet. You know how the world views nobles. You know how nobles treat and view the world.

You wouldn’t be able to blame anyone for seeing you differently.

“I’ve seen who you are with my own eyes.” He assures you, holding you tight, nuzzling against the side of your face gently. “Blood’s never mattered to me.”

“… They were going to marry me back in.” You admit after a moment. Keeping your head on his shoulder you just sit there for a little longer. “Someone… someone thought I’d make good, healthy, heirs.”

Your fingers tighten, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. Even now the whole situation still turned your stomach.

“They sent a gift. Something considered priceless. I didn’t even know the concept of devil fruits before then.” The words become easier and easier to say, and so you just let them come out. “I didn’t want anything to do with it. I was barely old enough to understand it all. To understand that they were basically selling me to get their names returned to the lists.

“I ran off. I ran off a dozen times, dragged back each time, but I didn’t stop trying, and they could only do so much. Shackles are for commoners. You can’t beat a bride to be and risk injuries before the wedding. Can’t break my legs, you need me to walk, and so I ran.”

Marco’s arms seem to engulf you, as though he’s trying to consume the pain that comes from your words, or shield you from the anger bubbling up in him. You aren’t sure which. Maybe both. You just know the action is comforting. Protective. Kind.

“I gave it away, the fruit, to a kid on the street, but he was smart, or scared, and wouldn’t eat it. Thought it was poisoned. So I took a bite first.”  You’re quiet for a moment, letting the memory play in your mind again after so long. “It was sweet. Rich and full of honey. I know now that devil fruits usually taste awful, but this was delicious. He loved it so much he helped me leave the island.

“He couldn’t have been eight. I was barely twelve. We never used names, swore we’d never meet again. I think we both understood on some level, how dangerous it was. I stowed away, on some ship, and ended up here.”

“… You remember anything about the ship?” He prompts.

“It was huge…” you lean back so you can look at him. “It was one of the reasons we picked it. Figured I’d have less chance being caught on a really big ship.”

“Huge doesn’t narrow things down for me.” He says with a grin.

“… Oh right! You and your family sailed.. I guess this was about twenty years ago now.” You lean back, sitting on his thighs, thinking for a few long moments, trying to make sure you remembered the details correctly. “The front was white, rounder than other ships in the front. It had so many sails too, and I think it had blue down the sides, and, I don’t know, yellow or gold trim.”

“… Did it… look like a whale at all?” He questions hesitantly, eyes focused on you. “The front part, I mean.”

You tilt your head, and smile. “Yeah it did, kind of like a white version of a big blue whale.”

Marco purses his lips and furrows his brow, blush running across his face.

You’re confused for a moment before realization dawns. “You… know the ship?”

Marco nods.

“… Do I owe Shanks an apology?”

Marco’s face flinches a little, and he shakes his head slowly.

You can feel the blood drain from your face. Not out of fear, but the dread of true understanding.

“I… owe… you, an apology.” You say slowly, and catch just the briefest nod from Marco. You look away and cover your mouth with your hand, thinking about your date at Thatch’s restaurant. “I thought that sauce tasted familiar.”

“Thatch practically started an inquisition!” Marco teases, grip tightening on you when you try to leave his lap. “We had locks on the refrigerator and pantry for five years after we got here!” He’s laughing as he pulls you against him entirely, kissing and nipping where he can. The light actions are ticklish on purpose and you can’t help your own laughter.

“I barely ate anything!” You insist, half-heartedly trying to escape. Marco grabs you suddenly, and firmly. Holding your head and body in place, eyes focused on your lips for a second as your laughter dies down.

The first kiss is soft and persistent, his body on edge as though he’s waiting to see how you’ll react. The next kiss is deeper, more insistent and needy, tongue pushing into your mouth and bringing soft moans up to your throat.

“He thought we had rats at first.” Marco says, still holding your face, not letting you back away too far.

You nod a little, eyes shifting from his reddening lips to his eyes. “I thought he spaced them out for his own foot size, and it was easy to step over them.”

“Did you trip a few on purpose?” He questions, and you nod.

“He was using such good cheese.” You admit, laughter bubbling up in you again.

Marco tries to keep a straight face and fails, the two of you falling into giggling laughter again. It takes a couple minutes to calm down and you set your head on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe it.” You murmur, fingers tangling into his.

“We left from that island, and stayed here.” Marco says. “That was the last trip we ever took.”

“Ivankov caught me.” You explain. “I thought I’d cleared the docks and was free and he picked me up like some stray cat.”

“I always wondered what secret she had.” Marco grins, changing his grip and capturing your hands behind your back, freeing up one of his. “Kept your secret all this time.”

“M-Marco,” you gasp, squirming a little as he pulls your collar aside, leaving kisses against your throat.

“Stowing away on a pirate ship is dangerous.” He says, voice low and heavy against your skin.

“You… you were Whitebeard pirates.” You state it and Marco pauses for a brief second before nipping at your ear.

“When’d you know, pretty bird?”

Your breath leaves you shakily. You aren’t worried about him hurting you, not now, maybe not even from the beginning, but the tone of his voice caresses your bones. From his tone alone you were at his mercy.

“A week, or so.” You admit. “The tattoo looked familiar, and then everything else just… added to it.”

“You weren’t scared?”

“Of you?” You can’t help the disbelief that slips into your voice.

“Most people are afraid of pirates, yoi. Even if they haven’t been pirates for years.”

“Most people think the marines actually protect them.” You retort, feeling Marco’s lips pull into a smile against your skin.

“I’m glad we never caught you.” He says quietly.

You laugh softly, sighing. “It would’ve been awkward to have been an honorary little sister or something and then end up here.”

“Little bit.” He agrees, letting go of your hands and pulling you into another kiss. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve lost either way, yoi.”

“Less bothered by the lost yesteryears, yeah?” You prompt, watching his cheeks turn red.

“Only a little.” There’s a pout in his tone, and another kiss follows it. “Gonna make up for all the lost time anyway.”

His hands tug at your shirt, and you lift your arms, letting him pull it off, breaking off the kiss for just long enough to let the article pass and get tossed aside. Leaning into the next kiss you tug at his shirt, and he leans forward, breaking the kiss and helping you pull it off.

No other conversation is had that night, nothing beyond quiet words of acquiescence and desire, peppered by the occasional sweet words of love and need. Tender kisses and desperate fingers trail over sweat speckled skin.

Pleasure is chased and caught, again and again, until limbs tremble simply from existing.

The clock chimes the name of a new day before dinner is consumed. The soft shuffle of sheets afterward, the brief moments of sleep, and the delicious scent of coffee to rally the morning.

And so began Monday.

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Mm... Mm. How about some fresh uh.. *skims notes* who has been the least traumatized by me so far? Kai's off the list.. Cole's a close second. Zane? Nah, won't work- Jay angst! You guys ready?!

Warning: Bullying (technically). Destruction (minor)

~~~

"Birds of a feather-!"

"-Always stick together!"

Giggling left the children as they fist bumped together, making fake explosions from their mouths as they pulled their hands apart and spread their fingers. "So, I wanna have the party at my house, but I want to make sure you'll be there. Only you, though."

Jay tilted his head at that, the curly-haired boy looking over to his friend. "Why only me? I thought you invited Cindy and Brent and-"

"No, I mean like.." The boy dropped his voice to a whisper as he leaned close to Jay's ear. "My parents font trust your parents because you live in a junk yard." He pulled away, with Jay frowning visibly with a small 'oh'. "But, it's okay! You can still come!"

"I-I don't know.. I kinda.. I mean.." Jay's stammering stopped as his name was called for the car line. "I'll ask my parents, okay?"

"Okay! Bye Jay-Jay!" Jay then rushed quickly to the iconic decrepit car him and his parents lovingly called the 'Jalopy'. Without opening the door, he jumped as high as he could into the back seat, landing face first into the cushioning as he just barely made it over, hitting his shins on the top of it and toppling in. Everyday. Never got old, despite the bruising on his shins. He stumbled his way to sit up, buckling up after he was safely up and secured, before Ed began driving away.

"So, how was school today, hon?" Edna asked, a smile on her face as she glanced in the rear view mirror to see Jay. "It was okay. I got invited to a birthday party!"

"Oh, you did? Let me see the invite." Edna said, looking at the invite once it was in her hands. "This is wonderful, a sleep over too. Do you want to go?"

"Uh-huh! But, uhm.. Chris said that you and dad weren't allowed for the birthday part.." Jay spoke, looking down at the large bench he sat out and messing with the small strings that came out of the fabric. "It's okay, dear. We have to be near town that day anyways. We can stay around until dawn in case you need us. How does that sound?"

That got the spark back in Jay, as he rapidly nodded in excitement. Swiftly rambling on about the current project he was working on.

~~~

Three days later, it was Saturday, time for the party. Jay had a nicely wrapped box in his lap, thanks to his mom, along with a duffle bag of overnight clothes. Once again, Jay was anxiously messing with the fabric of the seat again, this time out of nervousness for the gift and party. Despite how many times he got assured, his head was still swimming with worries.

The drive was only an hour, before they pulled up. Jay looked around briefly, before standing up and shifting over to the end of the car with his duffle on his back and present in hand. Edna got out of the passenger side, lifting Jay from the back seat and settling the boy on the ground.

Even if the attire he wore was his best, he still had stains on his jeans, hair nice yet still a bit frazzled and static-y, and his long sleeve had a good amount of stains on the sleeves. It was his favorite, blue jacket, which wasn't surprising.

Walking up to the door with Edna, the mother gave a knock to the door, offering a smile down to the nervous Jay before the door opened up, her head turning back when it did. Her smile didn't fade in the slightest. "Oh, hello there! I came to drop off little Jay for Chris' birthday party?"

"Yes, this si the right place. Don't worry, he'll be in safe hands." Chris' mom said, as she motioned Jay inside. "I'll call you if anything happens, okay?"

"Thank you so much, dear. Have fun, Jay." Edna spoke, crouching down as Jay set down his bags for a hug. "I love you."

"I love you too, mom!" They pulled away, Jay excitedly waving to his dad in the Jalopy, before he grabbed his bag and present again and moved inside, the door closing as he saw his parents off.

"Alright, is that present for Chris?" Chris' mom spoke, with the small Jay excitedly nodding and handing it over. "Perfect- Chris! Jay's here!"

~~~

Hours passed, and Jay was having a blast! Of course, minor teasing from Brent, but that wasn't an issue. He was having fun! He was surrounded by friends! And Chris was wanting to open his presents. He saved Jay's specifically for last, the boy practically bouncing in his seat as Chris opened the card up. Just a small 'you're my best friend and you're amazing' card, but Jay's smile feel anxious as Chris tore open the wrapping paper and stared at the object in confusion.

"It's.. It's a flying drone..! I built it up from something my dad made!" Jay explained, but seeing Brent's face out if the corner of his eye made him even more confusion.

"A drone..? What's a drone?"

"Whatever it is, it's stupid." Brent said, earning a soft scoff of his name by his own mother, which he ignored. "I mean, seriously! We waited alllll that time for that?? A clump of metal?"

"It's not a clump of metal- It's a flying drone!" Jay argued, Brent standing up and promptly grabbing the drone from Chris' still confused hands.

"It's useless!" Brent then threw it onto the ground, causing Jay's entire body to pause, a gasp leaving him. "You can buy something and it'll be waaay cooler than that!" The boy continued, but Jay's blue eyes had already begun filling with tears as he stared down to the broken drone he lovingly created.

Now broken.

Sobs left the smaller as Brent got escorted from the room to get an earful from his mom. He climbed off of his chair and collected the pieces through teary eyes, getting help from Chris and Cindy and placing the pieces back in the box.

Jay then sat on the floor, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and desperately craving the softness of his stuffed animal Mr. Cuddlywomp. Distantly, he heard the mention of his name and 'Mr. Walker', silently hoping that his dad would come pick him up. He didn't want to stay here anymore, he wanted to go home. He wanted to.. Tears feel more and harder as he wiped them away as quickly as he could.

No use.

About ten minutes later, of just sitting there over the remains of the broken toys, he heard the familiar clunk of boots. The hand on his shoulder cause Jay to turn around quickly, clinging onto his father as he sobbed about the drone he had created, wordlessly obviously. Still, the rumble of Ed's voice was assuring to Jay, causing the younger to simply rest in Ed's arms while quiet sniffles left him.

A conversation that Jay didn't recall or remember happened, Jay being carried out to the car with the gift and his duffle bag. Once settled in the backseat, Ed in the drivers seat and both the present and duffle in the truck, Ed gave over Mr. Cuddlywomp for the smaller boy to nuzzle in and calm down with.

Some memories were bettert and others. This was the last time Jay went to a public school in the sea of sand.

[wiseoldowl72]

Walk in the Woods

Prompt: Snow

Cas had been going through Facebook Events looking for something unique and fun to do. It hadn’t been that long since his first date with Dean at the coffee shop they both frequented. They weren’t even that far past the talking stage. Not that Cas wanted to rush things. 

It was then he saw the event page, “Evening Lantern Walk through the Park.” The event was not far, just a few miles away at the local nature park. Cas was sure this would be a perfect thing for them to do together. He looked at the description and not only would there be a lighted path about one-quarter mile long, but also hot cocoa, a bonfire, decorations along the way provided by the community supporting a local charity, and an animal rescue would be present with a few of their birds on display. He clicked the button to “going” and had the entry added to his phone calendar.

 ~~~~~

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said later that afternoon, when they met for their weekly coffee date after work. 

“Heya, Cas, have a good day?” replied Dean, taking off his jacket to sit at the table.

“Numbers are numbers, every day is the same,” countered Cas, “reports, accounting ledges, auditing, it never ends.”

“Same can be said about sales,” Dean looked down and groused, “product, pricing, place, promotion, people, it’s just one big wheel that never ends client to client.Yada, Yada, Yada. And we are the ones continuing to drive the company revenues that you have to keep track of.”

The waitress showed up just as the duo were starting to turn morose about their jobs with coffee and sweets orders. Cas enjoyed his Latte and Danish, while Dean his black, drip coffee and pie. They ate in silence.

Before things could get too stale, Cas looked up from his place and used his fork to point at Dean, “I’ve got an idea for an evening together if you’re up to it?”

“Sonofabitch, put that thing down before you poke someone’s eye out with it!” Dean exclaimed. “You, an idea for a date?” He grinned, “I’ve got to hear this, a museum?”

“No, I took your tastes into account. I know you don’t like all the documentaries I choose on movie nights.” Cas retorted.

“How about we get out of here and go back to my place?” Dean asked. “We can talk freely there, put on a movie, and put our feet up now that the work day’s over.” He motioned with his head to the parking lot.

“Lead the way,” Cas answered and reached to grab his coat off the back of the chair.

~~~~~

Once back at Dean’s house, Cas hung up his coat, put his keys in the bowl by the front door, and toed off his shoes. Dean came back out of the kitchen with two beers. One for each of them, and gestured toward the sofa. 

“So what’s this date idea you have? Dean prompted Cas quizzically.

“There’s a lantern stroll at the nature park. I saw it on facebook,” Cas told him “it’s after work, they advertise cocoa, a bonfire, decorations along the trail made by locals to support a charity, and one of the wildlife rescues will be there with a few of their birds. It looks like a nice evening out.”

“That actually does sound fun, when is it?” Dean inquired.

“Next Friday and Saturday evening,” Cas told him. “I was hoping since it’s just Wednesday, we could go Friday?” He asked hopefully.

“Sure thing! What time do you want me to pick you up?” Dean asked, as he put his feet up on the coffee table. 

“How about 5 o’clock? I’ll leave early to go home, so we don’t have my car left in the parking garage over the weekend. You can just come over as soon as you finish for the day,” Cas reasoned as he relaxed back into the cushions, thankful that Dean seemed just as excited about his idea as he was.

“I’ll message you the event page so you can take a look at it,” Cas said with a finality that ended the conversation.

They settled in to eat delivery pizza and watch Game of Thrones. Cas hadn’t seen the series before and the men were taking their time with it only watching one or two episodes a night. Cas was very emotional, behind his stoic looks he took the scenes to heart. He became very invested in the characters. When Dean had told him George R.R. Martin loved to torture just about every character, Cas hadn’t believed him. He did now. 

On GoT nights Cas always ended up snuggled under Dean’s arm, squished right into his side, sometimes hiding his eyes in Dean’s shirt. Tears were not uncommon. Unlike some men, Cas was fully accepting of his range of emotions and not afraid at all to display them. 

After the episodes were finished for the night and the popcorn, pizza, and beers were consumed, it was time to say goodnight. Cas finished putting on his shoes and jacket, then Dean pulled him by the labels into a tight hug, kissed his forehead, and wished him a good night. Cas was pleasantly pleased by the kiss and gave Dean a thousand watt smile. They have been hugging for a few weeks now, but this was their first kiss of any kind.

Cas silently loved Dean’s hugs. It was like he was the only one in the universe for those few moments. All Dean’s attention was focused on him. He always let himself melt while being held. He kissed Dean on the cheek in return, and with his keys in hand, turned and went out into the night to bide his time until their date on Friday.

~~~~~

Cas was waiting on his porch at 5pm on Friday when Dean’s impressively loud, purring V8 engine pulled into the driveway. It wasn’t particularly cold out, but it was the season for warm jackets, scarves, and gloves if you were going to be out for any length of time. Cas hadn’t been waiting long when Dean drove up.

“Heya, ready to go?” Dean asked after he stepped out of the driver’s door, “I think we’ll probably beat the crowds by going when it opens rather than waiting until later in the evening.”

“It’ll still be pretty either way, but I do like the idea of less people around,” Cas concurred, “I think the lanterns along the trail will give the trail a glow we won’t see when trees are full of leaves.”

“When have I ever turned down a bonfire and cocoa?” Laughed Dean.

“We haven’t known each other that long, Dean, but from what I can surmise of your character, I believe the answer would be never,” deduced Cas.

It was just a short drive across town to the park. Honestly, Cas didn’t even remember if the heater was blowing hot air out of the vents. Dean always had the windows rolled down just touch to keep the insides from fogging up. They were able to get a spot in the park’s visitors lot, which was surprising. Both men knew how popular events were here. But they did notice there was already quite a line. It was moving, meaning the event had already opened, but they weren’t the only ones to have the idea to go early in the evening. 

As they started along the path the run started to dip below the trees meaning soon it would be dusk. The lanterns were always giving the paved hiking trail an ethereal glow. Every 15 ft or so a decorated wooden Christmas tree shape was decorated by different groups or organizations in the community. They raised money each year for a qualifying charity. 

One of the first stops on the trail was a hot cocoa station. The men greedily took their cups as Cas took a small candy cane to put in his, while Dean took a small packet of marshmallows. 

“Just hits the spot!” Dean hummed happily while holding the cup and bringing the smell of warm cocoa to his nose. “You heathen! A candy cane! In your cocoa? How could you?” He looked at Cas appalled.

“I like the peppermint flavoring the candy cane adds to the cocoa,” replied Cas shrugging his shoulders, “what's wrong with that?”

“Let’s keep walking,” Dean started down the trail again.. Cas was always so logical. Dean sometimes just wanted to play and have fun, but Cas didn’t get the jokes. It was sorta endearing, when he thought about it, frustrating, but endearing.. Dean mentally sighed and reminded himself that’s what movie nights were for, pop culture education.

They walked side by side, sometimes their hands or sleeves would brush. They enjoyed seeing the decorations provided by the community for a worthy cause and commented on them as they walked past. Ones they liked, a Nutcracker themed Christmas tree and a tree made of wrapped presents. On the other end of the spectrum, the ones they just didn’t like or plain didn’t understand. They guessed one was supposed to be a modern art take on Christmas, but none of it made sense to either of them. So they just kept walking. The next tree was made out of women’s shoes. At least that one was funny and made sense. Both of the men thought women wore too many different kinds of shoes. 

“Who needed a dozen pairs of shoes anyway?” Cas just threw it out there while investigating the tree.

“Nobody I know, Dean answered, “not even the women in my family.”

Just at around the corner of the bend in the trail was the wildlife rescue tent. The rescue has brought three birds of prey, each damaged in some way and unable to return to the wild. A Barn Owl, that was hit by a car; a Great Horned Owl, also hit by a car; and a Harris Hawk, who had imprinted on humans, plus a wonderful interpreter discussing the breeds and all their different aspects. Cas was fascinated.

Cas was so intrigued by the information he didn’t notice that Dean had wandered over to the bonfire which was set up about 100 ft away from the rescue tent. The fire was roaring, warm, and with plenty of seating. 

Dean was sitting on an empty bench just staring into the flames finishing up his cocoa. Cas came over and sat down, scooching up next to him for warmth. He noticed how much chillier it had become since they had arrived. The day had been cloudy, but he didn’t think anything of it.

Just then, as both men stared into the fire, their arms curled around each other and they intertwined fingers, a few single stray fluffy snowflakes started to fall out of the sky. They swirled in the air currents surrounding the fire. Dean looked over at Cas, who was laying his head on Dean’s shoulder. The white of the simple snowflakes in Cas’ hair was such a contrast that it gave the evening an even more magical feel.

Cas noticed the snowflakes gathering in scattered patterns on Dean’s green scarf, which stood out over his brown jacket. He too was thinking that the evening seemed more enchanting.

Right there, in front of the bonfire, Cas cupped the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. At first Cas meant for it to be a chaste, we’re-out-in-public-type, kind of kiss, but that decision was overruled by the warmth in his gut to kiss the man more passionately. Dean responded quickly, following Cas’ lead and then running his tongue over the seam of Cas’ lips asking for entry to explore his new boyfriend’s mouth. 

The snow started to come down a bit more persistently  and they broke the kiss. Snow was getting in their eyes, ears, on their pants, and filling in their hair more. The evening had gained an ambiance neither of the two men expected. The lanterns were pretty, listening to the rescue and seeing the birds of prey was awe-inspiring, laughing and pointing at the inventive decorations was a nice touch to the walk, but it was the bonfire, cocoa, and the snow that really turned this date into something more.

Dean and Cas both thought the snow brought out the handsome features of the other and made them want more. Cas beat Dean to the punch in taking their relationship to a new level with the first real kiss. But it was Dean who asked to take Cas home to continue what they started at the bonfire.

As they did so back at Cas’ house, the snow kept falling down. The first snow of the year, in December, on their first planned date.

[arrow-dodger]

My dad's mom died on Saturday. I called her Nanny.

I can't put what I feel into words. I can barely sit down and think about it at all. But I can try to write it just to get it out of my head.

I haven't seen her in years. I've been estranged from that side of my family since I was maybe 22 or 23. To paraphrase, they're bad people. They were emotionally abusive, purposefully cruel, manipulative, selfish and volatile my entire childhood. I don't think either of my grandparents loved me, or even knew how to feel or show love in a way that I would recognize. I don't think they know me or anything about me, nor have they ever tried. The concept of "family" on my dad's side is just an endless loop of people possessing other people.

My mom always told me that since Nanny wasn't a loving person and Pawpaw (her husband) was a serial philanderer, my dad grew up in a household where not only did he have emotionally absent parents, but parents who fucking hated each other. And that's true. My entire life they had separate bedrooms and seemed to loathe one another entirely, but were just together because they had already been together that long, so they might as well ride it out. I know my dad is an adult and a father himself so he should have some kind of blame in his own actions. I just think I resent my grandparents a bit for growing him to be as emotionally absent as they are. My dad is still a little boy hiding under a bed in many ways.

As a person, I would say Nanny was best described as "unhappy." She barely smiled and always had something to fret about. She was always affronted by everything other people did, even if it had nothing to do with her. My mom has many stories of her throwing fits about things as an adult woman. She was critical and high-strung. At the same time, I know she was good natured in some ways. She gave a lot of gifts. She was always there to offer food or do laundry with a particularly challenging stain on it. She watched us as kids often enough and I know she watched her great-grandson (my cousin's kid) a lot too. I wasn't afraid of her as a child and I didn't dislike her, I mostly felt such a distance from her, especially compared to my mom's mom who I have always been very close to.

Every good memory I have with Nanny or that was set in her house ties directly back to some other weird or bad one in my head. I remember decorating Easter eggs with her, using dyes and stickers with crosses and other religious symbols on them, and her snapping at me for putting the stickers on my body because it was sacrilegious. I remember that day we ate Dairy Queen. I assume my sister was there, but we might have been so small that my brother wasn't even born yet. That would be over 20 years ago now. That story is funny because she was by far the most religious person in my family. She collected ceramic angels and claimed that once after she had some kind of surgery, Jesus himself visited her room and she kissed his feet.

I remember breaking one of her glass birds and cutting my hand on it. I remember climbing through her bedroom window because we locked ourselves out. I remember my sister and I playing with our Palm Beach Barbies in the fishing boat in the backyard. I remember mixing "potions" in her second bathroom. I remember her big black dog Magic, who seemed like he was the size of a horse to me because I was so small. I remember watching The Last Unicorn on VHS countless times in her bedroom, with an out-of-order treadmill in front of the bed and images of Christian angels decorating every surface. At her house we had the most random collection of toys, and books about dinosaurs. I always played with the toys in the sink of the big bathroom, the one with the poem about the color purple on the wall, and rummaged the drawers for her lipstick. Her feet were so small I could wear her little gold lamé slippers.

I remember her walking with us to Dollar General and buying us random little toys sometimes. Once I went there with her by myself when I was probably about nine and I remember her going on about how I was prettier than my sister and not to tell her. When I got older and my brother decided he didn't want to come visit my dad anymore because my dad was always drunk and terrifying, I remember Nanny and my aunts talking about how selfish that was of him. My brother, not my dad. And my brother was eleven years old.

I remember getting catalogues and catalogues of childrens' toys to pick from for Christmas. My grandparents and aunts always viewed buying us things as their way of expressing love, and even then it was barely that because it was always held over our heads later. I don't remember my grandparents ever asking me questions about myself or getting to know me. I don't remember them ever hugging me or being physically affectionate besides when we'd say goodbye. I don't remember ever feeling close to them in any way other than by proximity. In fact, most of my memories of going to their house involve them being in other rooms (or Pawpaw being in his shed in the back yard) ignoring us while we made our own fun, playing in the sink or watching a movie in the bedroom alone or playing Harry Potter in the front yard. In those memories everything is extremely quiet and empty.

When I'd go to her house as an adult she'd always give me random bits of food. Once she gave me a whole bunch of bananas. Then she'd spend the entire time guilt tripping me about how I didn't chat or visit often enough (I can't think of one time my grandparents have ever called me on the phone or invited me to their house) and talking about what things in her house I'd inherit when she died. It was always a pretty grim time.

When I got old enough and realized I was allowed to not be around my family anymore, I just... wasn't. There's no talking to them or reasoning with them, so I just fucked off. Nanny wasn't ever the reason for my estrangement honestly, it was my aunts (her daughters) who have both said and done way nastier shit, though she did join in things like enabling my dad to be an abusive drunk and actively sabotaging my parents' relationship. If I told every story about my aunts being awful throughout my life, I would be stuck here for days. Nanny might not have been as bad but she didn't separate herself from them in my mind, as she was always quieter than them but definitely on their side. We were never close. I never felt like she cared much about me or whether I was around or not. If she did she certainly never said anything about it to me, nor did anyone ever convey the message.

Not very long after I distanced myself, both of my dad's parents got pretty deep into dementia. My sister still visited every now and again but they didn't really know who she was. So even if I had still been around it wouldn't have made a difference, I think.

I've been distancing myself from my dad a lot lately already, so her death comes at an extremely weird time. I also can't attend her funeral tomorrow because there's a massive winter storm headed this way and I would risk being stranded. I wanted to go, too. I wavered on it because I'd have to see my goddamn aunts and their families and I know I'd be accosted and chastised and harangued by many different people. It would have been an emotionally exhausting experience for everyone, but it would have at least functioned as some kind of closure for me.

I can barely mourn my Nanny. There wasn't a loving relationship there to mourn. But I'm mourning some other things instead, like how my dad lost a parent, and my other family lost a loved one, and as weird and self-centered as it sounds, how I never had a relationship with my grandparents. The only relationship I've had with that side of the family the majority of my life has been manipulation, verbal abuse, them viewing my siblings and I as possessions and bargaining chips and using us as weapons, never being truly loved or truly known but existing as a concept and told to fit into a specific mold and to sit down and shut up and pretend along with the rest of them that we like each other. And that sucks shit.

Other people talk about these great relationships they have with their families. Other people have stories about grandparents who have always been there for them and supported them. Support is the last thing I ever got from any of those people. They have always actively resented me. They all wish I was someone else. I was the first niece and granddaughter born on that side and I know they all wanted a do-over. Luckily for them they have my sister instead, who barely remembers our childhood and lived far away for most of hers and also has some kind of infinite bandwidth for people who are cruel to her.

I wish to god I could say I was sad and hurt and missing something important from my life. Instead I never had it to begin with, and that hurts in a different way.

Editing this to say: I know it may come across harsh to anyone who doesn't know the full story of my childhood, my parents' divorce, my dad's alcoholism, etc. etc. and the roles my family played in all of those things. I will never be telling the full story so just know the nothing I've said here is harsh.

[withou-t-me]

November 23rd 2023

The Past

I'm in a room full of people. I feel lonely. My loneliness begins with the first thought of you. Thinking about a future without you. About the past without you. That you are now, but now - used to be extremely short.

And I'm alone in this room and I'm paralyzed with fear of the slightest gesture. I bow my head and stare at the toes of my shoes. I don't want to hide. I just don't want to see. How life passes me by because I spend too much time in my own head.

I think it's a natural adaptation, the body quickly adapted things to survive; my eyes only see you. So I close my eyes tight and tell myself how much I want you to sit next to me. But you never sit close.

You are at the other end of the room.

You talk to all the people I don't see in my world. Your smile is not for me and now it hurts to look at you again. So I'll go home and tell myself that next time I'll talk to you. It's late autumn. Comebacks are getting colder. The leaves have lost their color and all the trees look dead.

It's morning, but it's not dawn. The sky is still the colors of the night and yet I hear the singing of a few birds. It's cold outside, everyone is still asleep at home, I go outside. My hands are wet and uncomfortable around me. I am greeted by emptiness on the street, the last lanterns go out, bells ring from the church. The city looks dead now, the trees covered with a coat of sleeping crows.

I am afraid to destroy this image, so my tears are mute. It's just some warm tears on cold cheeks; hands clenched to the nails digging into the skin and the thought that we would never walk together again. We'll never hold hands again.

There are irreversible things, there are reasons that no one remembers for a long time and words,

the memory of which simply hurts.

The Present

Dearest,

I don't even know how to address you. I don't know anymore. For a moment I felt an unhealthy desire to title you "Nobody" - but why lie to myself again. Right? When last night sleep wasn't a real need again; I counted the time with the disappearance of the candles. One, two, the last one I broke. Careless, reckless - my fingers are burned.

Letters to Nowhere; I'm doing it again, funny. But I'll try to convince you later that it's cathartic. Let the tears flow for now. I'm afraid to try them. What will happen to me when they turn out to be bitter? I don't want to realize how much resentment and hatred I have for the past. Thinking about what was just a pain.

Because we both know it won't come back. Right. Right?

I think you stole all my words by leaving. I'm not that kid anymore who knew everything even when he was fighting with himself. He could describe everything and the reason was always his. I'm so insecure right now that I'm afraid to answer my own questions.

Sometimes something pushes me to naive actions that would only be a harbinger of hysteria. Because I know I'll be disappointed, I know. Even if I sent this and a thousand previous burnt letters - where are you? Should I write your name to all the random addresses I can think of? Send clean envelopes?

But you know, sometimes it hurts so much that I don't see anything absurd about it.

I turn around in the street because I felt you - but there is no trace of you. Only your image I look for among the crowd of strange faces. I feel like crying when I realize my mind has been playing tricks on me again; It hurts inside because I know how much I would give for this to be reality.

Nothing more.

No flashbacks, no magic, no miracles.

Just one more chance, please.

A lot – I practiced a lot not to be a coward; not to talk about irreversible things.

Early March, your funeral is due next Saturday.

Dearest,

Everything I've written so far weighs on me like a curse. I thought I could vomit words, but for the past few nights, only bile has come out of me.

Dearest,

this is not really happening

you are, you are somewhere, you must

please

life refuses to obey me, you know?

I need you,

to make you scream.

I want to feel the fear of losing you again

but I don't want a reality where you're not there.

I no longer have a soul to give away

I'm running away from talking about humanity

I'm waiting for absolution

and you already know it won't come

dearest -

how many more times do i have to pull myself together?

the trains howl and bore into my head with their shrill whine

this is how the world could end

for the best in the future

knowing that one day you have to die

I wasn't even listening to her

I drank your every form of expression obsessively into my sick inside

by words

dense

and thoughts

locked in a bottomless golden cage

but memory turned out to be crueler than I ever planned

Dearest

I hardly remember you anymore.

I'm left with a name you hated

what if i forget that too?

Dearest,

it seems to me that every second letter coming out of me is lined with fear, and yet if someone asks, I can't tell you what fear is.

Dearest,

So many worries about today.

A year ago you did what I usually do, a small gesture, but you were first, you know? I live this suffering. Because it's the last thing I have left. I don't know… no, I'm not happy. But somehow I persist. But I have plans you'd be proud of. But only now do I see all these things. But…but a lot of people around me. But. But. But. But. But.

But I met someone. You would like him.

You would really like him.

And I fight for old relationships and I'm firm. Pretty funny about it. Ridiculously impatient. 'Lovely', right?

Your laughter rings in my ears.

You've been dead for so many months.

I'm sorry I couldn't bear the burden of feeling. I'm doing everything in my power not to let it happen again. I still have a lot of work ahead of me today. I'll see you tonight, okay? I still have so much to tell you.

Dearest,

My letters stop for several years. You are left in the form of notes on the refrigerator and tears pushing to The Smiths songs. You became a few people and I was afraid to talk to you.

I was afraid of truths and single days, letters I forgot.

Now I pretend they're not there when I hold them in my hands. I accept a future that is already my past. After all, I came up with it.

Dearest,

I break up with symbolism. On this one time. I couldn't stand it just once.

This letter is for me, so that I may never think I was as brave as I ever will be.

I have no words for you today.

Dearest,

All the numbers on the clock face look so unpleasant. I'm not cutting off words today either. I am desperately looking for some cohesion, even the ones in the filled lines, one under the other, on a piece of paper - today even that is enough for me. Today I return to the old form of creation and my head hurts. It doesn't seem to fit it anymore. I keep finding myself thinking about you, each one becoming less and less real, and I guess that's why I like them so much. Only they stay with me when the world is getting more and more gray and it's hard for me to see anything from behind the window. I wish I could make poems out of them, but it would only be good for poems that can't be read aloud. Then I would see how ordinary everything I feel about you is and how many movies could tell it better. Again, I'd wonder if I have feelings for you or if I just want to feel because I feel like we could be something beautiful.

Dearest,

There are unanswered questions. Right?

Dearest,

Sometimes I feel like I'm very far away from myself. As if new worlds, collections of galaxies, ever-moving sketches of unknown maps were created between me and the me I remember. I blame it on all the thoughts of you, they've carried me so far that I can't hear anyone screaming "It's time to come back" to me anymore. We are already a fog and we can't bring ourselves to forget about ourselves. you're alive again.

Dearest,

Today is the twenty-third again and it shouldn't be like this.

The Future

I strike my hand against the mercilessly cold marble. It didn't even hurt. I'm exhausted and fall to the grass. I can't look up the tombstone; not yet.

Once again it is late autumn, this time more birds have flown away for the winter. The trees are dead again, and my hands are even colder.

I close my eyes and think about the world.

[saintkeaton]

Cave Music

1985-2085...

the heaven of

mystic

trimmer

scan souls

look past

skeleton dance

&

shallow graves

you need

another to see

yourself

so

there’s no getting

lost in these

woods

every direction leads to a golden shrine

cutting light like a diamond prism

bald man holds stone eastward

smiling through

tears

real tears of war & children

dissolve into rainbow mist

behind dark glasses

eyes dart back

& forth

forever

looking deep into darkness of

buffalo soul

my soul

an extension

something slapped on at

last moment in complete rush

twice locked doors

hover over

damp hallway

hammering nails to keep down moisture bulge

thy silver bird flew into mirror & lost in

great god reflection

of copper

easter egg on

good friday

tamper with sacred text

next Saturday

only day

thy Lord lay

dead

you will no longer turn to

false god with fat belly

& dead eyes & liar's smile

lies that ate up my twenties

even tried making you believe my

incredible stupidity &

all while running like a

little backstabbing fuck away from

my culture & true

God of childhood

with blue dimensions peeling back

showing you time

missed with loved ones & ghost

family that may be

insane or fake insane or wishing they were

interesting enough to

truly go insane

another thing that is to be built from

the center out!

the high thought processes &

lowbrow sustainable

mind waves of stealing other people's thoughts

only action that one needs to take for granted

26 characters dancing around in innumerable

patterns can make you cry for years

nightmare burning blue bulbs waiting in the closet

waiting to jump out & tell me

i haven’t lost anything

i have gained everything

the nothingness i used to feel permanently

peeled back

like my foresight & foreskin

i see typewriter giants

slamming keys

making sound

practicing telekinesis

communicating with millions

selling bad ideas bad ideas bad ideas

pages & pages

hiding behind the wallpaper waiting

for next generation to find

read &

believe their bullshit

hard wind through

budding trees make sounds of howling

cave music

with sticks beating on walls &

blood under fingernails

oh! children of light &

life

you are coming back aren't you?

in the lost room

my head i see golden

& silver &

copper plate hanging from wire holding dreams

& violent hope against hope for cartoon man

there's no drive-in

movies

in my head

i've never been to

one

never taken the kids but strangers have

famous faces of beauty & fakeness fill minds

eye & you eat it up!

believing the shit reality

so

angel of death sits next to us on

loveseat

we

play footsie with him

smiling & flirting

a real

true horror film!

I

i only know of one

man in Vietnam

dead uncle

ballooned up

with agent orange

extra wide in coffin

dreams

of maggot infested

neck

larva pouring out dark

hole onto kitchen floor

wife screaming lungs up

& mopping up mess of nasty

no LSD but the

real real

reality

that's the trip

but hey

spring is here &

the trees are budding…

your soul

great music hall of golden pipes blast specter

voices across endless fields of sleeping idiots

your soul

nightmare bird of flightless joy

hanging rock

pimple faced kids eat wings & dance in

empty field of graduates

your soul

backwards clock eat time

too much left

for blind men holding hands out for one

day of life & nourishment

break hands on hard work for family

meal of love & play

hide in sleeping bed dead

to world for hours as all things keep moving to

never stop again

never

never will the

ocean dry up leaving

fish to lie & rot

raw feet

with thumbnails grown &

brittle

dust & bramble

can anyone be mistaken?

nighttime smoke

bending lungs

twisting

too tar death rattle

of blood sisters pawing at crouch & ass for

release & sick pleasure of non educated

brain lust & night smoke gone too far left

can anyone be forgiven?

can anything be forgotten?

——————————————————————

[transmissionsfromthebattlefield]

Jimmy Bell’s Still In Town

I type to you from the comfort of my brand new dorm room. I’ll get into the real nitty gritty of why exactly I had to switch rooms when it’s further behind me, but I’m glad to be here. I moved in on Saturday, which involved three trips across the Stopher-Johnson bridge and resulted in veg-out levels of exhaustion. It was a worthwhile exhaustion nonetheless.

Instead of a house warming party, I did what I often do on weekend nights and indulged in music written by old men. But instead of expressing my wackjob musical taste in headphone-induced isolation, I did it in a room of other people. 15-60-75, The Numbers Band, have been playing the area for fifty three years, and this was the first time they played in Kent after I got here where I wasn’t gallivanting home on break. Besides, it was at the Kent Stage, which I’ve never been to, and it’s a much more relevant-to-me first show there than, say, Ace Frehley or Crash Test Dummies.

Knowing the Numbers’ first album, I was well aware of the group’s sound - an angsty and passionate strain of the blues-meets-jazz-meets something else entirely, with the right lick of dissonance that pinpoints their origin smack dab in the middle of the Rust Belt. There isn’t much to do in Akron, so I guess the primary solution is to make music or do drugs (or both). It’s so Pere Ubu, so “Navvy” at times, how it leaps and squelches and swells up in a big ball of noise assaulting your frail ears. I know there’s some interview where David Thomas is like, “Jimmy Bell is the ONLY GOOD SOUNDING ALBUM EVER RECORDED.” Which is a large overstatement, but it is a really good sounding album.

Their live sound reflects that to this day. The noise was crisp and loud. Every member was talented and tight. It was pretty damn stunning. Bob Kidney is a great band leader, and a hilarious one at that. Lots of great banter. A few guests came up for songs peppered throughout the night, like Chris Butler of the Waitresses and Tin Huey (seen wielding possibly the coolest bass I’ve seen since the Steinberger below)! Everyone sitting around me was older, and the woman beside me was asking me how the heck I knew who they were. (She was impressed.) Lots of name drops in the fragments of conversations that poked my head during intermission. It felt like a good ol’ time, one of many, with lots of invisible lines darting across the room like yarn strings on a bulletin board. Aside from being the youngest person in the room, I might’ve been the only person in the room who was seeing the Numbers for the first time.

It’s surreal acknowledging that there’s been this tiny scene here that’s been happening since practically the sixties but has not expanded far past its zip code, resulting in all the cool old people from back in the day being connected to everybody else and living within an approximate 50 mile radius of each other. It’s kind of fascinating, honestly, being in a vortex so rooted in its geography and persistent obscurity. My perspective as a current student definitely helps feed some fascination in it for me. In my cultural anthropology class, we’ve discussed the processes of field work - participant observation, cultural relativism, historical particularism. In Music as a World Phenomenon, I’ve read many mentions of the contributions of ethnomusicologists documenting music traditions across the globe. Does the shadow of the Goodyear Blimp fall differently than that of the steel sky birds worshiped by some remote island communities? Are all those “Punk 45” compilations less important than the “world music” CDs that hipster David Byrne fans buy to prove that they’re not only into African sounds when white guys do them? It really does feel like I’ve encountered some hidden anomaly that has somehow withstood JB’s becoming shit-kickin’ country/get crunk Brewhouse, gentrification, and things getting caught on fire. In a documentary we were shown in anthropology class, a group of linguistic historians arrived at a remote ex-Soviet village to document its language and were told, if only you’d come five years earlier, because many of that language’s most versatile speakers had died off. It’s like I’ve ended up mingling among the last great hurrah of a cultural phenom microcosm by complete accident; maybe I could’ve come at a time when the esplanade didn’t exist, but I'm here anyways with mental pen and paper. And I’m the only person of my generation who gives a crap. I’m one of the only people who gives a crap at all, really. But I guess it’s worthwhile that there’s somebody that gives a crap.

Nevertheless, 15-60-75 continue to chug away with great vigor, tucked away safe from the spotlights of the nebulous festering “classic rock” stadium blob. I do kind of love how you can see Terry Hynde, Chrissie’s brother, be extremely awesome on the saxophone for twenty dollars plus ticket fee, though. In 2023, can you beat that?

Okay, back to listening to “High Heels Are Dangerous” on repeat.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Saturday 18 February 2023

The Ups and Downs When Spring Stalls

My week’s been like these hyacinths. Good in parts and let down in others.

All my bulbs were bought and potted up at the same time, but look at the difference. One is so far behind it’s just tiny and no sign of any colour. I like hyacinths and I like all the individual little flowers combining to make a glorious flower head, but I tie the tall ones up at least twice a day as they’re so heavy they’re leaning again in no time. We were in the supermarket yesterday and I noticed their offerings had exactly the same problem, so it’s not just mine. 

The distinct fragrance perfumes a whole room

Actually I mention the perfume, but I’ve had to move the pots into more open areas, as it’s started to give me a headache, it’s so intense, like lilies. I shall put them outdoors directly into the soil after they’ve finished and next year pot up something less heady - in both senses of the word - for the house

Beautiful bark

I went to do my regular inspection in the woods and again, so very disappointing - a litter pick

What on earth is wrong with people that they think open ground is a suitable resting place for their trash. I could rant on but I’ve done it all before and I very much doubt anyone who cares to read this would think any differently

I’d love to put up a sign saying TAKE IT HOME, but fear it’ll only encourage rebellion from the kind of idiot who can’t work that out as a given

On a much brighter note, this year I’ve noticed just how many hazel trees we have both in the garden and the woods. The growth is vigorous but we’ve been having such grey weather that the catkins aren’t glowing as well as below. I hope the ancient legend’s true. We could do with a bit more inspiration and wisdom coming our way, but never-the-less we should see plenty of nuts. The tree above, which is on show through our side window is more of a green-lemon shade

Hazel (Corylus avellana) Hazel shrubs are monoecious, which means they have male and female flowers on the same plant.  The catkins, droop from branch twigs and can be seen from January to March. Catkins are the male flowers of the Hazel tree and, if you look very close, you should can see the tiny red filaments of the female flowers sticking out from a small bud.

The catkins in the woods are much more golden than in the garden, but the camera still isn’t capturing the glow. It’s slightly easier to tell from this pic, below, where I’m watching the birds, whilst I’m under observation too. You need to imagine the glow when the sun comes out

I’ll make a list. Since I sat to write this, I’ve seen robins, house sparrows, great spotted woodpeckers, starlings, nuthatch, long tailed tits, blue tits, great tits, marsh tits, blackbirds, Inspector Pritchard, Anton the pheasant and a pesky squirrel after the suet. For a very short while, judging on shape and posture, I hoped I’d spotted a song thrush, but when she emerged from the bushes, it was a female blackbird after all. That was pretty much a full house of our regulars though

The birds are going to be scouting new homes and because we need a big tidy up, they’re being a little bit displaced. The garden next door was suffering from some heavy growth that was hanging over our side of the fence too. It was blocking light out from our corner sitting room windows, but also over shadowing other plants, drying out the soil and causing a lot of mossy growth on paths. Now they’ve taken an awful lot of it down it’s really opened both gardens and later this week the willow is going to get its second or third ‘haircut’ in the time we’ve lived here. We’ve never forgotten the shock of the first one, the tree looked absolutely annihilated, but of course, it was incredible how it came back through the season

To be honest I’m planning on getting out with the shears and the hedge cutter and giving our big shrubs another hacking back so everything can hopefully strengthen and flourish nicely too. I’m still getting my head around how much heavy work we did all last summer and early autumn and what a toll the winter has taken on the garden. We’ve lost several shrubs and for the first time, pots have bitten the dust too. There’s an awful lot to do out there, but the birds still have a thriving and hospitable habitat 

‘Inspector’ inspecting

First out of the blocks for meeting the new season is his lordship. Just look how his feathers have grown and he’s displaying now several times a day

Sadly, Anton isn’t at all impressed, but their friendship is ongoing. This morning they were waiting together again like buddies, eager for Crow to go out and stock up the seed trays.

Anton did have three ladies with him earlier in the week, but we only saw them the one time. I’m in no doubt that he’s in poll position for the girlfriend derby. Oh well, at least Prichard has plenty of company here and we do talk to him and provide a healthy, varied diet - his life could be worse

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[bellajackson200]

Pocket Boy. Trouble times 5 edition.

Today was going to be a chill saturday. No plans. No nothing. Me and my boy would just stay in all day and relax in our pj's.

Along with the doll house furniture i'd gotten a while back i also found a bunch of doll clothing for him. He had quite the wardrope now and was excited to pick out outfits. I'd made little hangers out of wire and hung the outfits in a fancy doll house closet. He didn't want the bed i'd gotten for him. he prefered the old shoebox. Maybe he just felt safe in there.

I'd finally made it possible for him to get down on his own so he didn't have any more accidents in bed. The boy was thrilled about all these changes. He would still gesture for me to pick him up on occasion simply because he enjoyed the touch of my hands or just wanted a cuddle.

It was a quite morning. a couple birds chirping outside. The sound of a plane in the far distance. Fall was officially here. The weather had shifted from hot to cooler. Morning dew on the grass. Rusty leaves flying about.

We were having our breakfast and the boy sat in one of his favourite spots which was in the windowsill facing the garden. I'd set up a tiny table and chair and also a couch with a footrest. He absolutely loved hanging out there. He could observe the big scary world from a safe place.

I took a lazy bite of bread when the boy suddenly bolted out of his chair, knocked it over and ran over to the windowpane. His nose pushed flat up against the glass and his little fists frantically banging away. He was yelling something. He desperately looked over at me, flailing and pointing to the garden. His huge eyes were fixated on something.

I hurried over and looked out. At first i didn't see anything. But.. wait.. what was that. There was something colorful under the appletree. Something was moving. I couldn't quite make out what i was looking at so i got my binoculars. NO WAY! There, under my appletree lay 5 tiny boys. Something wasn't right. 3 was curled up, 2 was sitting, hunched over.

I had to do something before they were discovered by potential predators. I couldn't just walk out there and possibly scare them off. I grabbed my boy and a cloth bag and went outside.

I slowly approached the appletree with an open outstretched hand holding my boy. One of the strangers looked up and screamed at the sight of me. That allerted the rest and they tried to get up and away but they couldn't and fell back down on their little hands and knees.

They saw my boy and calmed down. He made some gestures and the boys started slowly, painfully crawling towards us. I causiously approached the slithering tinys, bent down and presented the clothbag. I put my boy in my pocket. As they crawled into the bag one by one, I noticed all the fallen overly ripe apples on the ground. Some had bitemarks and 2 of them had only the core left. They all made their way inside the bag, i gently picked it up and walked back to the house.

As it was more quiet inside the house i could hear moaning and crying from within the bag. I went to the livingroom and put the bag gently down on the couch. I opened it and looked at its content. My tiny boy had climbed down my pj shirt and was peaking into the bag with big, curious eyes.

Five moaning, crying boys. Five writhing tiny bodies. Five painfully swollen bellies. They were all clutching their sore extended tummies. Oh dear. what do i do. They were all soaked due to the dewy grass. My cutie looked at them with compassion and touched one of them. It startled the boy in pain and he looked up with a warm red face. I reached out to grab him. he braced himself and closed his eyes, whimpering.

I picked him up and placed him in my hand. My cutie was following my every move closely. The poor stranger was so wet and so cold. He was shivering. I peeled off his wet clothes with little protest. He's tiny naked body was so cold against the warm skin of my palm. He cuddled into it, whimpering, still clutching his swollen belly. Deja vu.

I held him in my warm hand for a while. Then i put him down on a towel. One by one, i peeled the clothes off the boys wet, cold bodies. Five naked tinys in a row on a towel. Clutcing their swollen bellies, moaning and whimpering. Scrunched up tiny faces, red cheeks. Their tiny toes wiggling from pain.

I remembered seeing the apples. They must have eaten a good amount of those ripe apples, causing their tiny bellies to bloat and hurt. My boy was so concerned. He was crawling back and forth between the sickly boys, trying to comfort who ever was moaning the loudest.

I could hear their tiny swollen bellies rumble and growl with expanding ripe apple and gas. So painful. I Picked up one that seemed to have the worst pain even though there wasn't much difference between their moans and pained expressions. I put him in my hand on his back. He looked up at me with a helpless expression. Scrunching up his face and pulling his legs up as a huge growl sounded from his belly.

I gently ran my finger in circles on his bloated belly. Another loud growl made him push out a fart. he looked a bit relieved but it was short lived. New gas filled the void in his protesting gut.

I put him back down beside the other four. Their tiny bellies were so round and they were so uncomfortable. My boy was still frantically crawling back and forth performing comforting head pats. I lifted him up, gave him a kiss and put him down again where he continued his TLC.

I gestured for the boys to lay on their backs with their legs bent. I started rubbing their sore, swollen bellies. I rubbed one until he farted, then the next and the next. Back and forth. Trying to relieve them of the gas bloat. Like a tiny fart orchestra. Push on a belly, fart. Push on another belly, fart. Push 3 at a time, fart, fart...fart... vomit.

One boy started to vomit ripe apple chunck. he sat up, clutching his pained belly and vomited. This made another boy sick to his stomach. He also sat up and vomited apple chunks. The 3 other boys sat up and one by one they started gagging, then vomiting apple chunks. All 5 boys sat hunched over, hands pressing on their swollen bellies, vomiting between their legs, Moaning, crying, Stomachs growling. Then... my cutie retched and all his breakfast came up. He cried and reached for me. I picked him up and cuddled him into me.

I rubbed the backs of the 5 sick boys with my finger as they sat there retching. Hopefully this would make them feel better.

They seemed to have calmed down after a while. What a mess though. The towel they sat on was soaked with vomit and so were they. They were crying and feeling disgusting. Looking up at me with a helpless expression. I got up. Leaving the crying boys on the couch, got a cuttingboard and went back to the poor bunch. I gestured for them to hop on the cuttingboard so i could transport them into the kitchen. i put the board down in the sink and turned the tap on.

Warm water rinsed the soiled boys. Including my own who had also stripped down. After all the vomit had been washed down the drain, I filled the sink with nice warm water. They all sat down to enjoy the bath. I stuck a finger into the water and ran it across all their bellies to see if the swelling had gone down. It had and they were so grateful. 5 smiling, appreciative faces was looking up at me. 1 face was looking up at me with love in his eyes. I kissed the top of my tiny boys head.

They spent the night and was on their way the next day. Waving goodbye as they vanished into the garden. My boy, Although curious, wanted to stay with me.

[365elephantsoap]

THE TIME BETWEEN SECONDS

Michael and I rode our scooters out to Lees Summit on Sunday to get our hairs cut. It is not a particularly far distance, maybe fifteen minutes from the house if you are taking the highways, but I don’t do highways when I’m on the scooter. We stick to the smaller side streets, which turn into back country roads. There is a lake and plenty of forested land between our house and our hairdresser’s. It’s a nice scooter ride. As we made our way home, I noticed a doe and her fawn bounding across a yard to my left. They reached the road just as we were nearing and we had to stop so the two could cross. When they reached the edge on the other side, the doe paused, one foot hovering and her head turned looking straight at us, while her fawn darted into the thick brush. Once he disappeared, the fawn quickly followed after. The whole moment was just mere seconds, but the seconds felt stretched out and everything was crystal clear. It was like a dance of quick, quick, slow, slow.

That evening, I wiped off my dry erase calendar clearing away the month of July. Michael moaned as he saw what I was doing and said “Not August! Not the end of summer!”. He goes back to school in few weeks and only has a week and half left to sleep in late and do what he wants. It’s funny to hear him say that summer is over when we are still having hundred degree days. Our August calendar doesn’t look too different from July’s. Still busy. Still filled up with events and appointments. A little bit of travel. Most of the things have been clustered into that week and a half. Then we are back to our regularly scheduled program.

When Josephine and I leave the house in the mornings for our walk, the sky is now dark with only a hint of light in the East. The sun is shifting and preparing for the next season regardless of temperatures. Tuesday morning, as we started onto the side walk of the park at the end of our street, I saw a fox sitting on the side walk at the bottom of the hill. He turned to look at me and then darted off into the tall brush and trees that line the park. Quick, Quick, slow, slow. Slow, slow, quick, quick. These are the dance steps of August and I’m in the process of modulating the music to slow the speed of the song that we dance to. We are traveling to St. Louis to see Andrew Bird next week. I am stuck with the idea of slow dances, the kind where you rest your head on your partners shoulder and just sway gently from side to side.

That’s how I want summer to end, in a gentle swaying motion. I want to ease into our regularly scheduled routine, like maybe getting up an hour later to go grocery shopping on Saturday mornings. Maybe I will get organized enough to start doing weekend chores on weeknights. I want to gradually need to add layers for warmth. No sudden movements, just a gradual shift onto the next season.

Quick, Quick, slow, slow.

[aetheternity]

My wifey, my best friend

Synopsis: Draken knew two things in his life for sure. One, that his best friend was a virgin and two, that he had a thing for his best girl. So he decides to kill two birds with one stone. 

Disclaimer: Fem reader, Unprotected sex, kinda not really a threesome, Oral sex (m recieving), and voyeurism are all present in this. (Minors dni) 

It wasn’t hard to see. Draken’s girl had always been a sight for every man’s eyes. Even before they’d gotten together. She got attention for the way she presented herself, her face, her body and overall just how chill of a person she was. Because while she looked mean (and honestly she could be at times). She was always ready to defend anyone in her squad. 

And very often that meant Mikey. Which Draken had always been thankful for seeing as once he had the help he didn’t know how he’d done it by himself for so long. But he didn’t miss how much quicker his girlfriend got violent when it came to Mikey and vise versa. Didn't miss the prolonged smiling between them or the way they were somehow always touching.

Didn’t matter how much she’d deny it when he’d call her out. Her eye roll adorable despite the clear deception behind her words. The flush of her cheeks, dilated pupils and nervous laughter all giving her away. She wasn’t just into Draken.

She was into Mikey too. She just didn’t seem to see what he saw.  

At first it had been a bit of a sore subject filling his brain. His girl and his friend had the same feelings for each other? Well he knew you wouldn’t cheat on him, you’d always been such a sappy romantic. Crying over love stories you’d read online and forcing him to watch movies that were far too long for just a stupid kiss at the end. 

And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Mikey wasn’t a concern. But every time he saw you two together it seemed as though you’d gotten even closer than the last time. Which eventually became the basis for a plan. 

“Hey.” Draken’s braid hung down the back of your couch as he called to you where you stood in the kitchen filling a big bowl with an assortment of chips and popcorn. 

“Hey.” You mimic his deep voice with a giggle coming over and setting the bowl in his lap. 

“Did you have fun with Mikey today?” He asked pressing a light kiss to your forehead. 

“Yup. Me, Mikey, and Emma had a lovely day out today.” You tossed a kernel of popcorn into your mouth with a snicker. 

“Don’t be like that. You know I’m not asking because I'm jealous.” His hair tickled the side of your face as he leaned in closer brushing stray strands of hair back from your cheeks. 

“No no, I know Ken Ken.” 

His breath flushed over your cheeks and nose when you met his eyes. You brushed your fingertips up the side of his head to trace his tattoo. His hands meeting your waist, fingers threading over the small of your back while he kissed you. And you returned the affection with every bit of eagerness that flooded your body. 

“What do you have going on Saturday?” He asked as he pulled away 

Your smile was warm, eyes practically twinkling as you said, “I don’t know whatever you’re doing I guess.” 

“You, me, Mikey, Mario Kart.” He suggests 

“That sounds so fun.” You place a kernel of popcorn on his tongue before turning to flip on the movie pulled up on the DVD player. 

“What is this?” Draken grumbled over the snack in his mouth. His demeanor quickly shifting. 

“I told you I was finally gonna show you The Notebook tonight.” You replied and Draken resisted his urge to groan as you cuddled up to his side fishing a couple chips out of the bowl still in his lap.

~~~~

Saturday morning Draken had arrived at your house at eleven am. He’d set everything up. You thought Mikey was coming at one but Draken had told him eleven knowing that he probably wouldn’t actually get there till twelve.

He’d helped you carry the bulky consoles and teased you all morning just so he could get you here. Right now at 11:45 am, your ass pressed between his bare thighs, socked feet tickling his bare knees, with your panties hanging off one foot as you worked your body up and down his length. The steady claps of your skin meeting creating a beautiful noise that bounced off the drab paint job in your living room. 

His name left your lips with a chorus of pleas. Pleas for his attention to your clit. Pleas for his thrusts to be harder. All greedy and messy while you gripped his shoulders tight for some form of stability. 

“Come on Darling, you can do it.” He replies thickly, the fingers he has sinking into the smooth flesh of your back hurt but the tighter it gets the more he’s enjoying it. “You’re doing so well.” He groans 

He slips a hand under your tee shirt looking for a better angle. His thighs spread and just for a couple seconds he indulges his good girl a little more. Feeds into your anxious cries as you whine about needing your orgasm so bad. Cock brushing against your cervix while you greedily weep for more.  

“Take it then.” He tells you breathily, head tilted back to show off the bob of his adam’s apple. His groans a little deeper as you work him up so close. Cunt squeezing so perfectly around him. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead from the accumulation of sweat. “I want you to make yourself cum, Darling.” 

Your fingers twist into his shirt at every slam of his hips. Wandering hands drifting up to cup your breasts through your bra before coming back down to your hips.

You clearly can’t hear it. Too lost in bliss but the subtle click of the door opening and closing isn’t lost on Draken at all. He never stops feeding you his cock though. Not as the taps of footsteps get louder, not as the pounding in his chest gets a little harder and not even when Mikey is standing right in front of the two of you. 

“Name, Ken ch-” 

Mikey freezes and your eyes fly open thrashing around to grab the blanket at the end of the couch to cover your lower half. “Oh my god Mikey!” Mikey stays quiet though his eyes grow dark, lips parted as he stares at the two of you. “Mikey, I thought you weren’t coming till one..” You huff, hand over your forehead and eyelids as you clutch the blanket a little tighter with one hand. 

“Are you saying you’re upset that he’s here early?” Two sets of eyes fall on Draken. He has yet to let go of your hips as you sit in his lap still fully seated on his dick with his best friend standing only a couple feet away. 

“Not this again Ken..” Your words drift away as the palm of his thumb slips beneath the blanket to slide smoothly over your swollen clit. Surprisingly Mikey doesn’t make a move to leave. Feet seemingly stuck in their current position. 

He leans toward your ear though it's still loud enough for Mikey to hear. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t squeeze my cock when Mikey walked in? Are you saying you don't like his eyes on you while I make you a mess?” 

“Wha.. Ke-” A breathy gasp leaves your lips. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mikey finally finds his voice though it lacks the malice he usual manages to possess. 

"You might as well stay while we finish. She's almost done."

Draken spreads your thighs with one arm pulling one of your ankles up till it’s resting partially against his shoulder and partially against the back of the couch. Slowly but surely the blanket begins to slip off your lower half exposing you slightly to Mikey. With your other leg resting against his; he thrust into you so deep that it creates a noticeable bulge in your stomach for just a split second.

A couple whimpers flutter off your lips and you try to slightly steady yourself as Draken guides his length into you without even the slightest hesitation. The couch shudders with loud creaks as if it's protesting the rough pace Draken has set never taking his eyes off a still shocked Mikey.

"Have you ever thought of fucking her like this?" Draken asks his voice husky and thick over your moans.

You're almost unabashed in the way you look over to Mikey with tears welling against the corners of your eyes. Thigh tensing with every rough pound of Draken's hips.

"K-ken.." You try only to gasp. It makes Mikey's hand fly to his tee shirt trying his best to cover what was so obviously growing right before you and Draken's eyes.

"I want to watch as Mikey fucks you." Draken finally admits. "Would you want that darling? Want Mikey to pound your pretty pussy like I always do?"

"Mm close.." You cry, lips trembling and wet as you throw your head back. Your fingers twist in Draken's shirt, leg twitching awkwardly by his head.

Mikey's lips hang open. His breathing raspy as your whole body tremors. You lean forward in Draken's grasp pushing him even deeper inside you as you cry over and over, "M' cumming K-ken.."

Draken lets his head fall back against the couch as you milk him while you're trapped in your own euphoria. His dick twitching through the intense groans you pull from his chest. When he's finished he places a gentle hand on your stomach.

"Will you take care of Mikey now?" He lifts your body off of him, placing you next to him.

"You want me to fuck your girlfriend? Have you lost it?" Mikey asks, cheeks stained a bright pink.

"Yeah, I'm giving you permission to show, Name a good time while I watch."

Mikey looks over to you. Slowly but surely you extend your hand to him looking at Draken for any bit of hesitation on his part. He hesitants and then his sandals are clicking against the hardwood as Draken motions for him to get between your legs. Mikey's eyes wide with attention as he stares down at you, hands stiff at his sides.

You look to Draken again who's pulled off his shirt by this point; laying back against the couch to rub his softened cock back to life. "Kiss him." Draken nods to Mikey who's basically stone at this point.

"C-can I?" You sit up pressing your hands to his cheeks immediately delighted by the strands of hair delicately brushing against the knuckles of your fingers.

When you lean into him, he presses forward. Hands reaching for the back of the couch for support. His lips are cold. Not at all what you'd thought they'd be. Hesitant, a little shaky and over all cute.

You couldn't help but trace the shape with your tongue. They were smaller than Draken's that part was obvious and more gentle too as though he was scared he could hurt you from just a small kiss. When you pushed him a little further coaxing his lips apart he conceded for you. With a heavy breath he slid one hand down to your face, Adam's apple bobbing where you could see it through your peripherals.

When your tongue slid into his mouth he took a deep breath cautious as you prodded forward with your tongue. And just as soon you were pulling away.

Draken added pressure to his tip with his thumb before sliding his hand back down his shaft in a smooth motion. "Take her shirt off." He instructed

Not only were Mikey's lips cold but his fingertips were also slightly cold as they slipped under your shirt with shaky hands. When you reached for Mikey's shirt Draken tsked,

"Be careful with him. He's still a virgin."

Mikey gritted his teeth in Draken's direction but ultimately said nothing. Weirdly enough that information broke the tension still present in your shoulders.

"Aw Mikey that's ok." He raised his arms as you slipped his dark blue shirt over his elbows, allowing it to join your already discarded clothes in the growing pile.

Though a part of you was slightly curious about whether or not it was by his own choice. With a bit more confidence now you slid your back up the couch a bit pulling Mikey in by the hem of his shorts. Without a second thought you reached behind your back to discard your bra bringing Mikey's free hands up to massage your breasts.

The little gasp he let out was so endearing, eyes clouded with tenderness and lust. Draken snickered at his end of the couch, "How's it feel to touch boobs for the first time?"

"Shut up." Mikey grunted

With your guidance he gingerly twisted and pulled at your taut nipples earning a sweet gasp as a reward. Meanwhile your hands curved up and down his physique, enamored by the touch his abs had just beneath your finger tips. So rough yet smooth and soft as they expanded and contracted for each of his breaths.

Not wanting to waste a second more you gestured to the band of Mikey's shorts, "Is this ok?" And once he nodded you pulled the string loose letting them fall to the ground with his boxers soon following.

Unsurprisingly he was smaller than Draken but he was thicker than you'd imagined. Pretty in both size and color with a much more rounded tip than Draken.

You looked up to Mikey's face. His attention elsewhere as you wrapped a warm hand around the base of his cock. "It's so pretty." You mumbled with a giggle when that gorgeous pink took full color against his cheeks. "I want to put it in my mouth. Can I?"

The bob of Mikey's Adam's apple didn't go unnoticed by you. The way sweat was already starting to appear on his forehead making you smile as he silently moved his hips closer to your mouth.

The hiss that slipped past his lips when you pressed your tongue to his tip and circled it gathering the precum sliding down was precious. And it dawned on you as if you hadn't remembered before that this was Mikey's first blow job.

The famous Mikey was getting his first right here and now. It pushed you further, you left wet open mouthed kisses all over his shaft before letting every sweet inch of him into your mouth. Delicately and steadily over his shaft till you were kissing his pelvic bone.

Never in all the years you had known Mikey had you ever seen him be so cute. His mouth was open for every panting breath he could muster trying and failing to catch his breath. His cheeks an even deeper pink than before and his eyes shut impossibly tight.

He reached out for the back of the sofa as you slowly pulled your mouth back before edging him all the way down your throat again.

"Oh God.." He choked out

Draken's laugh was boisterous the hand that was on his cock now slapped over his mouth as he tried to contain himself. "Darling you can't see from this angle but his face is perfect." He grins

You know it's bad when the only response Mikey gives to this is a loud gasp. His nails digging into the cushions behind you with a heavy grunt.

Draken leaned forward twisting his fingers into your hair gently to guide your head back and forth a little faster. "You look gorgeous, keep going."

Mikey's whimpers fill your ears and spit trickles over your lips. Your tongue swirling over the prominent veins at the base of his cock as you work him up with just your mouth. Curses flying off his lips at an exponentially higher rate.

"Doesn't she have such an amazing mouth?" Draken groaned hand resuming its earlier work.

Mikey could only hum lost in bliss with each thrust of his hips. He managed to angle himself deeper down your throat, reaching out to card strands of your hair back as well as he pushes his cock as far as it could go.

"Shit.. sh-it I think I'm gonna.."

Draken pulled your lips off surprisingly harshly. Fingers still deep in your hair as he guided your thighs open for Mikey. Cum from Draken's earlier orgasm still stained your thighs as Draken pushed Mikey forward by the small of his back.

The angle was kind of weird, especially for a first time but it did help Mikey align better and slowly but surely he was pushing inside. The fill of his cock pressing inside of you left you feeling a bit dazed and your eyes fluttered close. Nails finding purchase on his shoulder blades.

His forehead soon met yours, hitched breaths from his lips flush against your face. "Shit.." He heaved almost breathless.

"Yeah she'll do that to you." Draken grinned. You couldn't tell if it was your heartbeat or his pounding in your ear but you soon regained enough consciousness to wrap your legs around his waist.

"You ok?" He asked, eyelids fluttering open.

"Yeah. Feels good." You reply with a concentrated breath.

Mikey's hand slammed down against the couch cushion as he slowly began to move sucked in by your warm cunt. Every inch of his dick snug inside you. In a way that was so different from the earlier feeling of your mouth.

"Mikey.." You huffed trying not to lose it completely whenever he bottomed out. He wasn't long enough to touch your cervix but every inch of him was so obviously present inside you. Grazing your walls like they were built just for his cock.

"Angle your hips to the right a little." You could hear Draken's voice. All deep and husky like it always got when he was in the mood.

Mikey did as he was told, adjusting his hips till his dick perfectly pressed into your g-spot. You couldn't help it now your head falling back and your thighs shaking when he thrusted right into that spot.

"God.. f-uck.." Mikey grunted

"You're doing so well.." You mewled brushing his blond hair back where it was starting to stick to his face. "It feels.. s'good.."

Your thighs tensed as he started to speed up a tremble setting in his shoulders. You already knew what that meant. Bringing a hand under his chin to pull his lips into yours. The sounds of both Mikey and Draken settling in your ears as you felt the beginnings of the coil tightening in your stomach.

"Mm gonna cum.." Mikey moaned

The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you had you gripping him like a lifeline and he did the same. His arms wrapped around your waist as he emptied himself inside your fluttering walls.

"Oh God.." You sighed

His body continued to tremble, eyes far gone as you held his face to look at him. "You ok?" You giggled, still attempting to catch your breath.

"Draken was right about your pussy." Mikey grins

"Oh my God you told the guys?!" You pick up a pillow next to you chucking it at your boyfriend.

"I only told Mikey that part." Draken replies catching the flying projectile. "Hurry up and finish. This shits getting painful."

"Finish?" You're cut off by Mikey slowly pressing all the way back inside you. "You didn't get to cum." He whispers into your ear. His knee slides onto the couch next to you, guiding your hips against his cock.

Your head banging against the cushions behind you with each of his rough thrusts. Breaths short where they're falling off your lips. You don't miss the way Mikey's eyes clench shut, the way his teeth ungrit trying and failing to keep his noises quiet.

Your once messy and now unruly and missmanaged hair slips from the tie you'd once used to hold it. Strands falling over your face and into your eyes and collecting with the sweat present on every inch of your face.

Draken's groan came from the pits of his throat as he squeezed the tip of his cock in his fist. "I'm gonna cum." He warned, warmth spread through your stomach as you watched the tensing of his body soon followed by his thick cum shooting up only to return to earth. Coating his fists in liquid.

His dark eyes shut as he breathed through his orgasm with a deep sigh.

You cursed under your breath issuing your own word of warning as your thighs clenched around Mikey's waist. "Don't stop.." You pleaded, hands heavy on Mikey's shoulders as you pulled his body closer.

"I won't."

The coil in your stomach soon settled as your release coated Mikey's pelvic region slicking his cock as you cried out. A sense of familiarity soon falling over you as you watched the same build of intensity forming in Mikey.

The roll of Mikey's eyes utterly intoxicating as his hips stuttered forward with a breathy moan for the first bit of his orgasm. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his own hair a complete mess as he released deep inside of you completely losing control of his hips.

"Fuck Mikey.."

Mikey finally pulled out leaving his cum to ooze out of your used pussy as Draken stood from the end of the couch, heading for the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" You asked

"We need chips right? For Mario kart?" Draken called

"Yay we're still playing!" Mikey bounces like he's not still completely naked and didn't just finish fucking you.

"Of course we're still playing. That was the whole point of today." Draken replies

"You don't want to shower first?" You gesture to his cum covered chest and thighs.

"Like all together?" Mikey asks

"Nevermind let's just play."

[ms0milk]

teaching 1A how to drive

| standard shenanigans

a/n: spoiler alert they're absolutely uninsurable

Kirishima

god bless this boy

and god save his passengers

him and the brake pedal?

codependent

“okay, okay kirishima–ah! okay! that’s– oof, alright.”

he’s just so nervous that he wont be able to stop in time if something runs into the road!

so he stops a little extra just to be safe

on the freeway

in the middle of the street

when he thinks the green light will turn “any minute now”

for birds flying literal feet above you

“the sky is their domain Y/n! Why do they swoop so low?!”

“Kiri you absolutely cannot stop here!”

he could barely pull away from the school lot in his first few lessons without sending you into the dashboard

for someone so adept at hitting the breaks, you’d pray think he also drives slowly

you would obviously be very wrong

shamefully so

he's also too nervous to even listen to music at first

what if it played too loudly for him to see the road??

readers who drive u know what i mean

when u turn down the volume to see where tf you’re going better

he only agreed to let you teach him to drive at all so that he could be a well rounded hero!

what-- was he supposed to uber to the scene??

his quirk was hardening not apparition

the best he can manage is a brisk jog towards the crime

he decided quickly that familiarizing himself with public transportation was also a good idea

Bakugou

roughly around the start of second year, Bakugou chilled out a considerable amount

everywhere except behind the wheel of your beat up old car

saved up all his angst just in case someone ever offered to teach him to drive apparently

from start to finish the lessons lean towards the chaotic

“jesus your legs are short– how the fuck does the seat even go up this far?”

crack

well it won’t anymore

when you think he’s not looking, you rub the dashboard and whisper “i’m so sorry baby”

will never admit he likes to look at his reflection in the mirrors

thinks he looks real cool driving you around-- even in such a dumpy car

secretly named her Gravedigger

after the monster truck

he’s actually pretty decent when you’re the only car on the road

“it’s not hard as long as you’ve got half a brain in your head”

downplays how nervous he is when you suggest practicing merging onto the freeway in your fifth lesson

it’s usually irritating how naturally talented he is at everything

but for the past few weeks it proved to be a fucking blessing

however

he’s gonna be the number one hero right??

so he’s not about to lose to some shiny prius “revving” its engine beside you on an otherwise peaceful Saturday evening

“you wanna fucking tango?”

“kats, that’s an electric car how the fuck would they be revving us?”

obviously that old woman was challenging him to a race

she was but

you gaslit girlbossed the situation just enough to convince him not to follow her up a private driveway

Uraraka

oi mami mami!

you don’t know what it is that does it–

maybe it’s a mom-friend quality

maybe it's her mindful conservation of fuel

but when Uraraka sits behind the faded leather steering wheel

she gets like ♾️ time hotter

thats 901838749812931% for those in the back

even the first time you convinced her to take the car for a spin, before she even cared about getting her license

she made u & that beat up thing her little bitches

“okay Y/n, you promise you’ll tell me if I’m going to hit the curb right?”

you stood on the sidewalk and nodded dumbly as she sized up her very first parallel parking spot

but then she did the thing

nnng

the holding-the-back-of-the-passenger-seat and-turning-the-wheel-with-one-hand as-she-backs-up-thing

“Y/n? Am I–”

bonk

and you will cherish that dent in your bumper forever

Todoroki

was literally meant to be a chauffeur

you can’t even feel the car accelerating or coming to a stop and somehow you always get to where you’re going early?

three days in and you’re begging him to teach you how to drive

must’ve got big dick lessons from Uraraka because he palms the wheel like its nothing so he can keep one free hand full of more important things

your hand

namely snacks

accidentally kneed the horn the first time you taught him how to adjust the seat and now he has a weird obsession with it

it gives him a spike of serotonin

a noisy button

big fan

will honk at squirrels crossing the road

beep!

“Shoto no!”

“I have the right of way.”

“You can’t honk at traffic cops!”

likes to make a convenience store run before hitting the road every single time

can’t learn to drive without a yerb duh

quickly memorizes your gas station order

your weekly todoroki field trips are honestly the best

gets off on charging his dad’s credit card to fill up your tank whenever you drive together as repayment for your lessons

Deku

too responsible to get anywhere on time

he’s stopping at every yellow light

stopping at every railroad crossing

obeying the speed limit to the mile

he’s also:

losing your car keys

locking your car keys in the car when you teach him on how to pump gas for the first time

accidentally snapping your car keys in the ignition when the wheel gets stuck after parking

flushing the new keys you just got cut down the rest stop toilet

he also also

crafted a meticulously organized playlist that is a combination of both of your favorite cruise songs as a thank you gift for all of your help getting his license

always offers to DD after a party so you feel safe letting loose

stocked your car with water bottles

always gets out of the car last so he can whisper “thank you” into the steering wheel without you seeing

Denki

what happens when a car gets struck by lightning?

denki owes you 80$ for a new car battery that’s what

prefers so, so

so so

so

so much

to just take the subway

when he found out he needed a license to score an internship at his ideal agency after graduation, he came to you in tears

“Y/n, they don’t understand! Lives will be extinguished!”

“Kami don’t be dramatic, everyone feels that way when they first start driving. I’ll help you, It’s seriously no biggie”

holy fucking gigantic biggie

five minutes behind the wheel of your sweet, hard working baby

and he’s already mixed up the brake and the gas pedals twice

the car’s too fragile to be hitting so many mailboxes

a crossing guard’s nightmare

is not above closing his eyes when he gets extra nervous

driving down a narrow road or in bad weather

“it would be cheaper to just buy a new car and total it whenever i need to get somewhere” he whined at his pile of traffic violations

bonus round!

- ̗̀ Mina

absolutely lost cause

do not carpool

do not insure

❥ Asui

stops the car for every animal she sees

even if it’s like

in a field all the way away from the road

“just in case”

needs to sit on a phonebook to see over the dash

has an orgasmic house mix playlist to sooth her rookie driver jitters

- ̗̀ Sero

made a literal blood oath not to teach him

when he complains about not being able to “just get up and go wherever [he] likes”

Jiro and Momo stare you down before you can offer to help

they flash you their bandaged hands as a reminder

blood oath

❥ Iida

too impatient

will abandon the car in traffic if he thinks he can run somewhere faster

generally not a huge fan of cars

will not let you listen to catchy music while he’s behind the wheel in case:

“the singalong causes an unfortunate accident”

-5/10, very ominous student

50000/10 very fun to race

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Born to Run / Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Marathon Runner f!reader (no y/n)

Rating: E for eventual smut

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: TW: Attempted assault (EVERYONE’S OKAY), creepy person being creepy, one punch, some light injuries sustained by reader, the beginnings of pining!Marcus.

Summary: A long training run on your favorite bike trail is interrupted. Marcus discovers the source of the scream and develops a lil crush.

A/N: And we're off! Thank you so much to everyone who said they wanted to be tagged in this! I've never written this much at one time in my LIFE. I'm sure updates will slow down as I am forced to stop writing and get caught up on my actual job that I'm supposed to be doing right now. Let me know what you think. I have no idea if the pacing is too fast, too slow, or just right, if the characters are believable, or basically anything, really. Turns out it's hard to make a silly fantasy in your head make sense as a fleshed out story! Who knew? Not me!

Prologue | Chapter 2

Marathon Training, Week 10

Long run: 13 miles

You

Harder. Faster.

Almost… there…

You tried to control your shaky breathing as you neared the end. You'd been at it for nearly two hours now and you were starting to really feel it. Your legs burned with effort. You were so close...

In-2-3-4, out-2-3-4.

Just one mile to go.

Signing up for a marathon (and signing your entire summer away for training) always seemed like a good idea in the beginning. During the first long runs of the beastly 18 week training plan, you were still fresh with motivation, with excitement, keeping your mile splits fast and your strides light and long. Now, at week ten, almost exactly halfway through the training program, the runs became harder, and longer, while your energy and motivation took a dive. The repetitive nature of the sport easily lent itself to tedium, causing many runners to ‘hit a wall’ as the weekly mileage increased to peak at twenty miles--only 4 weeks away for you. You willed yourself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. One more mile. Should be easy after seventeen of them, right? No problem. In about nine minutes, you can be drinking water and sitting down. Nine minutes. You can stick it out for that long.

You always joked to people who were shocked at your hobby of choice that your running skills were fueled by stubbornness and spite. You never felt like much of a natural athlete, so you considered your abilities to be hard won through years of resilience rather than through any innate talent.

Maybe you were politely asked at fourteen not to try out for the volleyball team for the second time, but you'd be damned if you couldn't wake up in your thirties and run more than a half marathon on a Saturday just for the hell of it.

You started today's run just before the sun's first light was starting to make its way across the sky and the last few drops of rain fell from the clouds above. An early spring thunderstorm had passed through just prior to starting your run, and as the sun began to rise, it bathed the departing clouds in pink and orange hues, giving the well-worn running trail an otherworldly glow as your GPS kept a running tally of the rising mile count in your ear. The threat of more rain must have discouraged other early morning runners, because for once, the popular trail was yours, and yours alone.

With the tempo-driven music thumping in your ears to the beat of your steps, you missed the pleasant sounds of a forest coming to life after a storm. The birds had begun their song, and far in the distance, a rooster crowed to signal the sunrise. With every gentle caress of wind, droplets fell onto the trail with a plop-plop-plop. The little frogs around a nearby pond beside the rather ornate cabin you sometimes admired (when it was visible, which was only when the leaves were absent in winter) were chirping again, but you didn’t hear it over the fast-paced music you’d curated with the sole purpose of driving your steps forward.

Now, the sun had officially risen, decorating the well-shaded trail in speckles of sunlight. Small rays filtered through the still-new leaves of May and flickered in your eyes occasionally, blinding you in small doses as you ran.

It was during one of these moments of split-second blindness that you made out the vague shape of another person ahead on the trail.

Marcus

Without giving much thought to the consequences, Marcus jumped out of the porch chair upon hearing the scream. His empty coffee cup toppled off his leg and rolled in a wide semicircle along the ground as he jogged down the stairs, coming to a stop only when the handle met the wood. He hurried as fast as he could in the flimsy slippers he was wearing towards the dirt path leading into the woods. Leading to the advertised bike trail? Marcus wasn’t sure, but it made sense. Was it someone on the trail who had screamed? He raced along the path, trying and failing to avoid the wettest areas, and caking his slippers in mud in the process. After a few too-tense moments of running on the slippery ground, Marcus finally burst through the trees onto a flat, paved trail and discovered the source of the scream.

You

As your vision focused on the person in front of you, the first thing you noticed was that they were not moving, and you registered that as being odd. They weren’t walking, running, or biking, as one would expect, but standing stock-still, on the same side of the trail as your approaching form. That was the first red flag. The next thing you noticed is that it was a man, staring directly at you. The unbroken stare from this unmoving obstacle caused a heavy stone of dread to sink down into your stomach and stay there. Remain calm. Remain calm. You purposefully pursed your mouth into your best ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression and avoided eye contact. He was still there, still there, still not moving, still staring as you purposefully passed onto the other side of the trail to give this creepy man a wide berth. Don’t acknowledge, don’t react. He was still not moving, still star--

His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your arm as you passed. “Why are you in such a hurry, sweetheart?” he drawled, and you made the mistake of looking into his eyes, despite all your efforts to avoid it. His eyes were strangely vacant, his pupils dilated. There was still no one on the trail that you could see, but you hoped that another soul was just around a curve, or that someone in one of the wooded lots was awake and could hear what you were about to do. You took a big breath, and let out the loudest scream you could muster, hoping that someone would hear it.

“QUIET,” the man growled, tightening his grip.

“Get OFF me!” you shouted through clenched teeth. You had no idea how to throw a punch. Why would you? You’d never been in a fight in your life. Your knowledge of how to hit someone came only from watching movies, but if there was ever a time to reach inside yourself and pull out Captain-fucking-America, this was it. You awkwardly reached back with your free arm, and swung your fist with all your strength at the man’s face, sending him staggering back holding his now-bloody nose.

Your hand exploded with pain. They never mention that in the movies. They just punch and punch and punch until the fight is over and someone is down. But in real life, it fucking hurt. In real life, you didn’t have any super-soldier serum (or any knowledge of fighting), you were just a runner who put all of her strength behind an admittedly unpracticed swing, and it showed. Ouch, ouch, fucking-OUCH.

But, awkward and unsteady as it was, it worked. You wrenched your arm out of the man’s grip and took a few desperate steps forward, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins after nearly three hours of running made you shaky and unbalanced. You stumbled, of-FUCKING-course, and tripped over the toe of one of your shoes. Your elbows took the brunt of the fall and you felt the skin scrape over the rough asphalt of the trail as you lurched to your feet again, this time successfully putting one foot in front of the other without falling. You launched yourself away from the man and started to sprint at full speed down the trail. You barely made it a few wild steps before another man, this one wearing only pajamas and mud-caked slippers, rushed onto the trail from a small footpath.

Marcus

Marcus held out his arms in a way that he hoped was reassuring, signalling you to stop. His gaze was leveled on the man (still bleeding from his nose) who had attacked you. He barely had time to take in the scene before the man, rendered powerless now that he had an audience, frantically took off in the other direction.

“HEY!” Marcus shouted, starting to pursue the assailant as he fled. The other man hopped a small wooden fence and began crashing through the thick undergrowth. Marcus ran up to the fence and hesitated, turning to look at you, your chest still heaving with exertion, clenched teeth and fists, and equal amounts of fear and fury in your eyes. He looked down at his muddy footwear and decided to make sure you were all right, rather than give chase. It wasn’t that he doubted his ability to catch up to the man while running through brambles to God-knows where in only his pajamas. Nope, definitely not. He balled his fist and let out a frustrated “Shit!” before turning and hurrying back to you, standing alone on the trail.

He held out his arms toward you again--but purposefully not crowding you--in a universal sign of openness, and asked in a soft voice, “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did he-”

“I’m okay. I’m- I’m okay. He grabbed my arm and I… I punched him.” Still not quite catching your breath, you glanced down at your hand, which was beginning to swell angrily, and hissed through your teeth. The sudden attention to your injuries, combined with the retreating adrenaline in your system, made your hand throb in earnest. Funny how wounds never seem to hurt until you notice them.

“Perfect. That’s perfect.” Marcus nodded reassuringly. “I heard your scream. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You did great.”

You managed a shaky smile at his words, and looked down at your hand again. “No one ever tells you how much punching hurts,” you said with a small huff of laughter. He smiled in kind, and the still-bruised knuckles on his right hand from his stupidity earlier that week gave a little throb of sympathy.

Suddenly feeling weaker than you cared to admit from the waning adrenaline, not to mention the grueling run, the events of the attack caught up with you and you put your head in your shaking hands. “Oh, my God. Ohhhh fuck. Jesus, I can’t believe-- that fucking--”

“Hey, hey-- I know. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Marcus moved in slightly closer, still being mindful of his body language and his distance from you. At the words, I’ve got you, you looked squarely into his eyes for the first time, and Marcus felt a slight frisson of electricity as your wide eyes searched his. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, a little gentler still. You gave him a tiny nod and the corner of your mouth twitched upward a fraction. “Listen,” he continued, “I’m going to call the police. I’ll give them the address of the cabin I’m staying at so they can find us on the trail. It’s just back there--” he gestured vaguely in the direction he came from, “and I can tell them to head back towards us.”

You nodded again. “Okay. Thank you, really. I don’t know what I--” you huffed out a breath instead of finishing your thought. Marcus took in your sweaty, disheveled form. You were red in the face, still breathing heavily, with bits of hair sticking up in a way that would have looked comical in other circumstances, and your hand looked to be in bad shape. Yet, you had an obvious strength in the way that you held yourself, giving the unmistakable impression of power and poise. An athlete. As he watched, a bead of sweat from your forehead gained enough momentum to make its way down the bridge of your nose, and Marcus suddenly had the intrusive urge to touch it with his finger, transferring the small drop to his own hand. He mentally chased away the thought as you brought your own hand up to scrub at your face, dispelling the bead on your nose (and a good portion of those still on your forehead) in the process.

He shook himself. Not the time or the place. “We should get some ice on that hand, and I can get you some water, too. I- I want you to feel safe--I can bring you ice and water, maybe some bandages from the house. You can stay here, or you can come with, if you’re comfortable? Get cooled down, have a seat on the porch... Either way, I’m going to stay with you until the police come, okay? I want you to feel safe,” Marcus said again, gently. “Okay?”

You seemed to mentally shake yourself, dispelling some of the fear, discomfort, and leftover adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Your shoulders straightened imperceptibly, and your chin canted upward slightly, giving off a renewed aura of tenacity and toughness that Marcus found troublingly endearing.

“I, uh-- Heh. You uh, you had me at ‘water,’” you said with a small huff of laughter and a lopsided, wry smile. “Lead the way?”

Marcus couldn’t stop the smile that graced his face at your words and at the way you were clearly trying to dispel the events of the morning with humor. He stuck out his hand. “Marcus, by the way.” You swallowed and reached for his hand with your uninjured one, and shook it. Marcus tried and failed not to notice the softness of your palm on his, the firmness of your grip, and the fact that your hand, like the rest of you, was absolutely covered in sweat. Hands still connected, you gave him your name in turn. Marcus repeated it softly, then added, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you… Marcus.” You said his name while looking directly into his eyes again. Was it just him, or did the direct eye contact last just a fraction of a beat too long this time? When you finally dropped your eyes, was there a little bit of shyness lurking there beneath your lashes? Was he imagining things?

He was in trouble.

-

Tagging:

@deepstarsco , @thirddeadlysin , and @honestly-shite