#s'mores on wet sticks

[iv4mpirs0]

long bus rides, tents, uno no mercy, late night giggles, cup song, barefoot in mud, decent showers, ping pong, friendship bracelets, silverberg mine, making new friends monster energy (lime), watching heroes of envell half asleep, espresso in a can, s'mores on wet sticks

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝑷ᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Mershark!𝑲𝒊𝒓𝒊 𝒙 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 oneshot!

𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝑺𝒘𝒊𝒎....𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Drowning, Under the Influence Surfing

Word count: 699

Lights from the houses sitting curved around the cul-de-sac were dim from your distance. Balloons tied to mailboxes were set free in the sky above or in hands of neighboring small children, their parents taking a vist standing around and chatting, sitting in lawn chairs, lined up to get food from tables lining the street holding casserole dishes and crock pots.

The annual community block party lasted all afternoon, but you knew the clock was ticking down for something more eventful. Coolers brimmed with sodas, water bottles, and beers. You quickly made off with drink pouches meant for the kids towards your meeting spot. Flurries of air ghosted your exposed skin, your board under your armpit. Tumbled rocks along the shoreline as the boardwalk was lined with food and drink vendors. A white lifeguard tower with its flag flying, familiar flip-flops abandoned in the sand.

"Any longer, and you would've missed all the s'mores." Mina smiled up at you. Sero, Denki, and Bakugou toasting their second bag of marshmallows. There's a soft crash of the logs, crackles, and pops from the fire gnawed at them, consuming it like a disease until only a sickly pile of ash remaining. They rub together as Bakugou rearranged them.

Widely expansive oceans lapped the shore, lights from the boardwalk scattering across its surface.

"I'm here now, ain't I?" Driftwood as their seating as you opted to sit on the extra towel you had brought along. Their crooked row of surfboards stuck into the wet sand strewn with seashells and seaweed.

"I brought what I could." You hand each of them a dripping drink pouches cracking open a jarred Strawberry Peach Moonshine for yourself before grabbing a knobby stick in your hands as you roast your marshmallow in the flames.

"No fair, you always bring booze for yourself." Denki sighs in exaggeration.

Placing your palm over your heart, you lay back between Mina's legs. You open a black plastic bag, more mason jars of different flavors inside. "You doubtin' me Blondie? The kids' pouches were for later."

He pouted then frantically blows at his burning marshmallow at the end of his stick as Sero nudged his side.

Windansea Beach, La Jolla, where briny air and water met your board under your feet. Purity of ultramarine and stars mimicking glow flies share the openness with the moon.

Your feet sink deeper into the moist sand as salt nips at my skin, it's cool refreshing feel brings clarity to your heart, cleansing your soul almost. Night surfing has always been your go-to safe space long since before you met your teammates. God knows how many times you've crawled from your beachfront cottage window to seek Poseidon's comfort.

The Petrichor smell calls you forth. Depite your drink on your breath. You insisted you should paddle out. Pushing yourself into a standing position, the all too familiar soaring sensation washes over you.

Sero is not far behind. Steadying your position, the wave was strong enough to propel you forward. Gliding effortlessly, a shadow within the wave startles you as it follows. An occasional rough wave would spike, but nothing high enough. If asked, your choice of paddling aimlessly wasn't the brightest idea.

What sounds like Mina yelling your name as a huge wave rolls in. It's seafoam ripples curl over themselves as they swell faster.

A figment you swore you'd only heard in legends made you hit the water. Teeth like daggers swore to kill directly, took your board.

You're dunked under. Lungs quickly fill with water. You attempt grabbing for your board, but the murky depths condescend around you.

What little you could make out were two figures lashing out at one another. The smaller one putting up a good fight. You scream only for bubbles to escape. Your last-ditch effort. But you got what you wanted. Silence.

Letting what's left of your cognitive thoughts flourish, you see it. Blurry cyan and milky white moonlight stab the waters surface. It stares at you with desire, its pupils that of a cat.

Hovering above you was red. Red something. Something you couldn't make out. Red faded to black once your eyes shut.

Divider created by @cafekitsune

Please like, reblog, and comment! I hope you enjoy!

[mrsmarlasinger]

Piping-hot mozzarella sticks dipped in marinara sauce. Foodland poke. Goat cheese and prosciutto pizza. Sushi. Funfetti cupcakes. Toasted sourdough dipped in herbs and olive oil. Butter melting on warm French bread. Deviled eggs. Grilled cheese made with cheddar and pepper jack and bacon and garlic salt. Pepperoni pizza. Bacon cheeseburgers. Greek salad. Garlic bread. Ice-cold stone fruits eaten in the heat of summer. McDonald's fries. Lattes. Fresh-baked chocolate croissants dipped in hot chocolate. Salt and vinegar chips. Takis. Cheesecake. Moist red velvet cake smothered in cream cheese frosting. Watermelon. Tagliatelle Bolognese made from scratch. Pumpkin spice bagels. Hint of lime tortilla chips. Hot dogs roasted over a campfire. S'mores. Kalamata olives. Steak cooked rare and juicy. Panera Bread mac and cheese. Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Rice with soy sauce. Scrambled eggs. Berries. Homemade whole wheat bread toasted and eaten with jam. Cookie dough ice cream. Milky Ways. Escargot. Chinese takeout. Steak fries. Fresh-squeezed lemonade in glasses wet with condensation. Sugar cookie dough. Sliced cherry tomatoes sprinkled with salt and pepper. Vanilla Coke. Nigiri. Milkshakes. Brie.

[ryandunlavey]

Enjoy the delicious flavors of s'mores in pancake form! These fluffy pancakes are loaded with mini marshmallows, chocolate chips, and graham crackers, then topped with a drizzle of chocolate syrup.

Ingredients: 1 cup all-purpose flour. 2 tablespoons cocoa powder. 2 tablespoons sugar. 1 teaspoon baking powder. 1/2 teaspoon baking soda. 1/4 teaspoon salt. 1 cup buttermilk. 1 egg. 2 tablespoons melted butter. 1/2 cup mini marshmallows. 1/4 cup chocolate chips. 1/4 cup crushed graham crackers. 1/4 cup chocolate syrup.

Instructions: In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, cocoa powder, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In another bowl, whisk together buttermilk, egg, and melted butter. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix until just combined. Gently fold in mini marshmallows, chocolate chips, and crushed graham crackers. Heat a non-stick skillet over medium heat and lightly grease it with cooking spray or butter. Pour 1/4 cup of the pancake batter onto the skillet for each pancake. Cook until bubbles form on the surface, then flip and cook until golden brown on both sides. Drizzle with chocolate syrup and serve hot.

Caroline

[mayhemfashionsims4]

Fudgy s'mores brownies made in one bowl are the best treat for chocolate lovers. They are a fun take on a classic dessert, with gooey marshmallows and crunchy graham crackers on top.

Ingredients: 1/2 cup unsalted butter. 1 cup granulated sugar. 2 large eggs. 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder. 1/2 cup all-purpose flour. 1/4 teaspoon salt. 1/4 teaspoon baking powder. 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips. 1 cup mini marshmallows. 4 graham crackers, broken into pieces.

Instructions: Warm the oven up to 175F 350C. A 9x9-inch baking pan should be greased. Melt the butter in a bowl that can go in the microwave. Add the eggs, sugar, and vanilla extract and mix them in well. Add the flour, salt, baking powder, and cocoa powder and mix just until everything is combined. Add the chocolate chips and mix them in. Pour the batter into the pan that has been prepared. On top of the batter, sprinkle marshmallows and graham cracker pieces. If you stick a toothpick into the middle and it comes out with wet crumbs, the cake is done. Let it cool all the way down before cutting it into squares.

Brittany H

[blessyourhondahurley]

Good Morning, Campers!

Destiel Month prompts: Body Swap / Camping Random word: ash

(Read on AO3)

Cas rose to consciousness in a slow glide. He fell away in stages from a dream of bright colors and soft movement, becoming gradually aware of his surroundings. The sleeping bag, first: warm, rough fabric, and too much space where its other occupant should have been. Next, the sound of rain pattering on the roof of the tent above him. The smell of wood smoke, then, and wet earth. Finally (as his eyes cracked reluctantly open to the early morning light), the sight of his beloved, visible through the screened mesh of the tent's door panel. Dean was crouching next to the fire pit, stirring a pot.

A knot burst in one of the burning logs, with a sharp pop and a shower of sparks. Dean cursed and put his finger in the pot to fish out a stray bit of ash. Cas watched him flick away the offending particle, then stick his finger in his mouth. He made a hey, not bad face – eyebrows up, corners of his mouth down – and there went the finger, back into the pot for another taste. Cas couldn't stifle a fond laugh.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Dean called to him. “Coffee's hot, and oatmeal's almost ready. Put your boots on before you come out. It's muddy.”

As he sat up to pull on his boots and flannel shirt, Cas realized that the sound he'd thought was rain was only leftovers, dripping off of the trees overhead. Some bad weather must have blown through last night while they slept, but the clouds were breaking apart now. He watched his boyfriend's messy bedhead turn to a halo of gold as a stray beam of sunlight passed over him.

Cas clambered out of the tent and zipped it behind him. Dean held out a tin cup as he approached. Steam curled over the top of it, and it smelled like heaven.

“Did you bring the pumpkin spice blend just for me?” he asked with a smile as he sipped at the coffee.

“You know I did, babe. You're not roughin' it right if you don't pack a few treats. Tonight we're doing s'mores.” Dean pulled the pot off of the fire and carried it over to the table, where he'd already laid out bowls, spoons, and Cas's honey bear from home. “Grub's on,” he announced, ladling out hot cereal for them both.

“Mmm.” Cas sat, then threw his head back to inspect the sky. “Do you still want to hike to the top today? The trail won't be too wet?”

“Nah, the rain stopped a while ago. Everything's drying out now. We can have a nice leisurely breakfast, fool around a little, then head out. If we leave by 10 we can eat our lunch on the peak.”

“'Fool around a little,' huh?”

“Yup. Schedule's set in stone. I'll be accepting no amendments.” He handed the honey bear to his boyfriend. “Now, eat your oatmeal. I've got big plans for this bad boy afterwards. We just need to be careful not to get the sleeping bag all sticky.”

[passivenovember]

You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

--

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

--

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

--

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

--

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

[soulwillower]

chubby bunny • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: Hey can you please do a rly dom smut with Bill where he's over with his family and then u guys sneak off and hook up partly but before he lets u cum he says u have to go back and sit with the parents? Pls? Sorry if it's so specific lol.   +  Playing chubby bunny with bill and you end up losing and bill just goes ‘i bet you can fit more than that’ followed by a bj    +  Please write the chubby bunny fic! I beg!!   +    Can I request a rough/degradation smut with Bill? Maybe a bj?     

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (male receiving), dom bill, also rly cocky bill, hes bold, deep throating, dirty talking, and a lil praise kink i think thats it 

[losers + reader are 18+ in this!!!]

2.1k words

♡

you were supposed to be getting the s'mores stuff from the upstairs closet. that's what your mom had asked you and bill to do while your families lounged in your backyard, bellies full of your dad's grilled dinner as the dark night echoes the noises of the crickets all around them. 

"wh-why do you keep your s-s'mores stuff upstairs, m-mrs. y/l/n?" bill had asked your mother as you'd stood from your folding chair. "it’s next to all the other blankets and things we need for fire pits. now quit your whining, william," your mom had replied, smirking at him to show she was joking. "- and go with her. you're the only responsible one." she'd finished with, which had made you roll your eyes. bill had grinned back at her, shooting a charming wink her way, "b-believe me, i kn-know."

so you'd led bill inside and upstairs, where you'd started to gather all the things you mom had requested, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy next to you. the denbroughs were lifelong family friends; his mom and your dad had gone to college together, and so many times throughout the years you'd had the denbroughs over or vice versa. the thing was, you had thirsted after bill for so long that it was starting to get unbearable.

he flirted back all the time, too, which just made it worse for you.

still, you found yourself staring at his jaw and shoulders and arms as he pulled blankets onto the floor, then pulled the marshmallows from the top shelf and immediately popped open the bag. he’d watched you with a smirk as he plucked a marshmallow out and tossed it into his mouth.

"bill, stop! we need those for outside!" you'd said, whacking his shoulder. he'd just shrugged, "c-c'mon, don't be so lame, y-y/n. you can h-have fun sometimes, y-you know." and then he'd smirked at your scowl. you'd snatched the bag of marshmallows from him and muttered, "whatever. i know how to have fun."

and so yeah, you were supposed to be getting the s'mores stuff, but you were instead in your room with bill denbrough, playing a game of chubby bunny with marshmallows. 

you’re getting competitive with each other, and you're finding that the fire between the two of you can really rile you both up. "you s-suck, y/n." he mutters then, making you laugh slightly, holding your lips closed with your fingers so you don't lose the marshmallows.  "whatever, denbrough, you're jealous." you say, any distinguishable words barely audible through the squish. "th-that's a bold thing to s-say coming from a person who's l-losing." bill says, voice distorted with fluff. you roll your eyes.

"'pleathe, i can do more!" you yelp through your puffed out mouth, bill looking at you with amusement in his eyes, jaw loose and cheeks stuffed with marshmallows. he tosses a marshmallow to you and you shove it into your mouth, "chu-" you start, but then the rest of your words come out completely indistinguishably as your lips can't connect or even form the sounds at all. bill tuts his mouth as you spit out the marshmallows into the trash can, spitting out his own with a victorious smirk.

he shakes his head down at you from where you’re kneeling on the ground below him. "c'mon, i b-bet you can fit m-more than that." he mutters lowly. 

you freeze at his words and your face heats up as you turn to look up at him. "hm, you want to find out?" you tease, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. his eyes darken at your words and he smirks, nodding as you stare each other down. 

you shrug, feeling yourself wet with arousal at just a simple admission that he does. "but i don't wanna use marshmallows anymore." you say boldly, and bill smirks. "i w-wasn't talking about marshmallows, a-anyways."

you lick your lips, his gaze sending heat straight down to your center. slowly, you crawl on your knees and slide up against the bed until you're in between his legs, staring up at him. he watches you move toward him, his hand coming to brush the hair on your face away as his other hand falls on your neck. you slowly move your hands up and down his thighs until you move your hand over his clothed cock, making him groan lightly and grin. "g-good girl." he mutters and your face turns bright red as you palm him, shocked that your friend was speaking this way to you and that you liked it so much.

the thought of how wrong this is and how easily you could be caught just makes heat pool in your panties as you grip him, trying to ignore the alarm in the back of your head telling you how huge he is. he groans in pleasure as you touch him and it makes you clench your thighs yet again.

his hands slip up your shoulders and into your hair as you lean closer, pressing a kiss to his clothed crotch. "f-fuck." he mutters, smirking as he moves to undo his pants, grabbing your chin and pulling your head up so you're making eye contact with him.

"sh-show me how much you can f-fit, b-baby." he mutters lowly as he slides his boxers and pants down, his cock springing up. your eyes widen and you feel yourself salivate at the sight of him, opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out expectantly and looking up at him from under your lashes.

he bites his lip and he grips himself, pumping a few times before putting his cock on your flat tongue. you exhale, moaning a bit as he nudges the back of your head with his fingers a bit. you red immediately as he definitely heard you moan. "you l-like that, d-don't you?" he mutters, and you nod silently, still embarrassed.

he just smirks before tugging your head down so his cock slides into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him and making him moan your name.

"f-fuck." he mutters as you slowly bob on him, taking him in as much as you can. "feels so good, y/n/n." he adds, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail with as much as he can grasp as you take him in enthusiastically. 

he lets out a groan as you pull up, swiping his tip with your tongue and collecting all the precum. "good g-girl." he mutters again with his hands on your head and you groan to yourself.

"i-it’s okay to like it, y/n." bill says and you turn deeper red as you lick your lips and stare at him. "i kn-know you like it when i t-tell you how good you are, b-baby." he says lowly, and the butterflies in your stomach threaten to break free. he's so fucking hot like this that you think it might kill you.

so then you take him in again, sliding down slowly on his cock, your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you bob your head. the room is filled with slick noises as you suck his cock, his hands guiding you up and down from their place on your head.

"so p-pretty with my cock in y-your mouth. y-you're taking me so w-well, aren't you?" he mutters softly and you can't help as you whine around his cock, the vibrations making him buck his hips into your mouth. 

you gag instantly, eyes watering as you look up at him and he smirks, holding your head and thrusting up slowly, watching as you gag on him again. 

"h-holy shit." he mutters to himself, eyes wide as he watches your mouth and face when you  gag on him.

he pulls you off after a few moments and you suck in breaths, breathing heavily as your eyes lull to meet his green ones. his thumb wipes strings of spit from your mouth softly, grinning at the fucked-out look on your face.

 "g-god, so good. th-think you can t-take some more, baby?" he asks . determined and eagerly, you take him in again, loving the feeling of him filling your mouth and stretching your throat. 

his moans of your name are quiet and motivate you more as choke on his cock in the most delicious way, his hands holding you down and your nose brushing against his abdomen.

"r-right there." he mutters as he slowly starts to thrust up and into your throat, making your eyes water again as his tip brushes the back of your throat. "f-fuck, 'm so c-close." he mutters and so you squeeze your eyes shut, loving the feeling of him fucking up into you sloppily and constricting your breathing.

after a few more thrusts his hips stutter and then he holds your head so his cock is down your throat to the hilt, staying for a few blissful seconds before he pulls you completely off his cock and you gasp, inhaling sharply and panting.

you grab his cock as he covers yours with his own hand and moves them together, jerking him off. you quickly feel him twitch under you so you stick your tongue out and he hits his high with a groan of your name.

he finishes in hot spurts in your mouth, mumbling your name again in the sexiest voice ever before lightly smearing himself on your lips with a smirk. "g-good fucking g-girl." he says quietly, eyes hooded in post-orgasm bliss.

then, he watches with a grin as you swallow all of him before swiping your bottom lip with your forefinger and sucking on it, collecting the last drops of cum and swallowing.

you still don't say anything after a few seconds but then bill mutters, "h-holy shit," and he's pulling you in to a searing kiss, holding your jaw. you kiss back and his tongue grazes yours just as he pulls back, giving you a smile. "i-i've wanted to do that for a l-l-long time."

you smile, "me too. all of it." you add on, turning red as your admission.

"as much as i w-want to fuck you, we gotta g-get these out to our f-families, don't we?" he says boldly, smirking when you whine. holy shit, you have to wait through at least another hour of talking with the adults? he's pulling his pants back up as you sit back on your heels.

"can't we stay up here, bill?" you beg, knowing you sound desperate. he smirks at you, "no. u-unless you w-want our p-parents to walk in on y-you taking my c-cock like that a-again." he says tauntingly and you moan quietly. "but-" you start to protest, but he stands up and tuts. "c'mon, y/n/n, they n-need their s'mores." he says teasingly, making you glare in desperation as you follow him out of your room, face red with what you've just done.

and when you're both back outside with the everyone else, bill sits next to georgie and across the fire from you casually, smiling at everyone and greeting them like you didn't just suck his dick in your bedroom and then practically beg him to fuck you. 

pleased to have their dessert, the adults spread out the s'mores ingredients. sharon grabs a bag of marshmallows, smiling to herself. "hey, have you kids ever heard of chubby bunny?" she asks, and you and bill immediately meet eyes, a smirk growing wildly on his face making you blush. oh god. 

“um, y-yeah.” you squeak out. bill chuckles quietly. "y/n and i w-were just p-playing it upstairs, actually." he adds with a grin. you have to physically resist letting out a whimper. "is that what took you so long?" your mom asks with a laugh, looking at bill. 

your stomach coils in arousal as bill smiles at her, "it s-sure was."  

the adults chuckle at your antics and you know you're fucked when bill winks at you across the flames, his eyes running quickly up and down your body before your father catches his attention.

"is that so? and who won?" your dad then asks, looking at bill. your face turns even redder when bill turns to stare directly at your father.

bill shoots your dad an innocent grin and says with a straight face, "d-definitely y/n. your d-daughter's mouth was st-stuffed f-full, sir."

[jinmukangwrites]

i'm not a big fan of DC, but I have a general knowledge of it. Perhaps something to do with some some family bonding with the bat family? it doesn't have to be fluffy, but it would be nice to see that something nice is happening to this found family of people, even if it's small. good luck and may you have success and fortune in your future!

So this ended up not being a drabble. Oops. Listen, I've been wanting to write a camping-esque fic for a long time and somehow this just ended up being it. >.<

-o-o-o-o-

It is Dick's first camping trip.

He's young, bright eyed, and smiling like there's nothing to be down about even though Bruce knows they're both painfully aware it's only been a month since his world quite literally fell apart.

Bruce doesn't really know what he's doing, having not gone camping himself in what must be over a decade, but he still successfully sets up a decent tent large enough for four sleeping bags, but has more than enough room for two. Alfred is on a well deserved vacation, so there's no need to make room for a third one. It's just Bruce Wayne and his new ward Dick Grayson, alone in the wilderness with a bag of marshmallows open between the two of them and a campfire crackling in front of them. It's Dick that shows him how to roast the perfect "mallow", and that apparently involves shoving the entire marshmallow into the center of the flame and laughing maniacally until it blackens and chars. Bruce almost has a panic attack just watching Dick bring the flaming marshmallow out to his face to blow out the fire.

Bruce remembers the times he's watched people roast marshmallows in movies, and he decides holding it just above the worst of the flames until it's a golden brown is the way for him.

There's owls hooting softly around them when the moon reaches high enough to suggest maybe calling it a night. Another tell-tale sign is Dick ever so slowly leaning against his side, all bundled up in a warm oversized jacket; marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker residue dried to his lips and cheeks.

Bruce stares at watches for a moment, before smiling, something he thought he lost when he watched his parents die clinking back into place in his chest. Filling him with a warmth he never thought he'd ever have again.

He scoops Dick up and bundles him into his sleeping bag. Dick is out like a light, mouth open in soft snores, and Bruce frowns, a desire in him that he doesn't understand.

He pokes Dick's shoulder gently, making sure the child is asleep, and Bruce sucks in a lungful of air. Unsure and afraid. He runs his fingers through Dick's hair, lifting up his messy bangs, and slowly bends down and presses his lips against the child's forehead. He then backs quickly away, his heart pounding.

Dick was never supposed to be his son, but pretty early on Bruce discovered how much of a lie that was.

-o-o-o-o-

It's Jason's first time camping. His second time in the mountains as well.

Dick took him skiing for his first time, but Bruce at least gets to take him for his first night out in the fresh wilderness of the Appalachian mountains. Just the two of them this time, being as Dick is still angry with him. And while that hurts, Bruce is content with spending some much needed one on one time with his newest adopted son. (Because he knows now he made a mistake keeping Dick away at arms length with the word "ward", and now it's too late to take it back. He won't make the same mistake with this one).

Jason seems more concerned with running around and climbing trees than eating marshmallows. Surprisingly, more concerned than Dick was. Though that doesn't mean he still doesn't enjoy a marshmallow here and there, especially since a new kind has come out recently that makes the marshmallows even bigger and puffier when roasted over the fire. Good for nothing but sugar. Not that Bruce minds. He can't remember the last time Jason looked so relaxed as he stands and watches Jason marvel at a waterfall they've hiked to. If it earns that kind of wide eyed unashamed smile, Bruce would gladly invest in the company making even bigger marshmallows.

Bruce finds quickly that Jason also thinks Bruce makes marshmallows wrong. He knows this because as stuck the sugary monstrosity on his roasting stick and gently held it above the fire, Jason cried out in outrage.

"You're making it wrong!" He yelled as he grabbed Bruce's arm and dragged it away from the fire. Bruce is almost afraid that he'll demonstrate how to make a proper smore by shoving the whole thing into the middle of the fire to blacken it like Dick does. He doesn't want to know what kind of mess a marshmallow this size would make on fire, but the Jason shocks him by rushing into the tent and stumbling out a moment later with a colorful bag in his hands.

Starbursts?

"Where did you get those?" Bruce asks, trying not to sound amused that Jason snuck candy with him out on the trip.

Jason snorts, opening the bag and pulling out a pink square. "I asked Alfie to get me some, because I knew you'd be uncultured in making a freaking smore."

Jason then impales the unwrapped pink starburst on the roasting stick next to Bruce's waiting marshmallow. He unwraps a yellow one and puts it on his own stick. "The red ones are gross, by the way," Jason says, sticking his stick above the fire. Bruce huffs out a small laugh and puts his stick over the fire as well.

He's not sure what he feels about the taste of roasted starburst mixing with the marshmallow, chocolate, and cracker, but Jason eats enough to gain a stomach ache.

Bruce carries him to bed too, and tucks him in, and instead of waiting for him to fall asleep, Bruce carefully pulls Jason closer to his chest, and because his arms are full of legs and arms, he kisses Jason's forehead with a layer of hair between them.

Jason doesn't pull away. Just yawns happily, and falls asleep in Bruce's arms.

Bruce decides that camping trips for Jason is definitely a thing he needs to make a regular thing. Just to see his boy look so peaceful and happy in his arms.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Tim's first time camping. But Bruce suspects it's the first time Tim actually has fun camping, as well as his first time making smores.

Dick's here this time too, the relationship between him and Bruce held together by paperclips and string. Which is saying something, as it used to be held together by nothing at all. Bruce is just happy that he's here and that they're civil enough with each other to let Tim be a disgusting, dirty, rowdy child in the mountains for the first time in his entire life.

Tim stood at the edge of the river, but ended up being shoved in by Dick, and they both came back sopping wet and laughing.

Tim picked at the bark of a large tree, but ended up in its highest branches when Bruce lifted him over his shoulders to give him a headstart.

Tim frowned at the marshmallow bag and sticks, but ended up with a mess all over his face, pupils wide in the firelight as the sugar gave him a rush.

Bruce roastes his above the flame and Dick tries to convince Tim that sticking the entire thing into the fire is the only right way to roast a good marshmallow. When Tim looks unsure and tries both with uncertainty, Bruce takes a chance and pulls out a bag of starbursts he almost decided to leave behind.

And once Tim tries the roasted starburst s'more, the rest of the s'more actually goes forgotten as Tim decides roasted starbursts is best left left alone—he snacks on almost the entirety of the bag, and Bruce tries his best to not let the stabbing in his heart ruin the moment. He wonders how well Jason and Tim would get along if Jason... But he shakes his head, choosing instead to point out the glowing little light in the forest that isn't the stars.

It's not Tim's first time seeing fireflies. But it's his first time running through the trees with a jar, holes poked into the top to capture them.

When it gets so late that even Bruce is beginning to yawn, he corrals his oldest and unofficial youngest into the tent and frowns at how even though the packaging said it's big enough for four people, it's still quite squeezed together with two grown men and a lanky young teen.

Bruce ruffles Tim's hair, squeezed Dick's shoulder, and for once Dick doesn't flinch at his touch. Just smiles and kisses Tim's forehead. Bruce is almost tempted to copy the action, the night feeling wrong without it, but Tim has parents.

Tim isn't his son. Isn't even his ward. He hugs Tim, and finds himself hugging him tightly, only letting go when Tim voices slight confusion.

They lay down in their spots, the silence of the world being interrupted once as Tim verbally complains about Dick's feet finding themselves under his legs.

"But you're so warm, baby bird!"

The sound of Tim's laughter is something Bruce wishes he had been quick enough to record, so he could listen to it over and over and over again.

Tim's not Bruce's ward. Or son.

But it's so easy to selfishly wish he were.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Cass's first time camping. But it's her first time camping for something other than survival. Which means it's definitely her first time making s'mores.

Taking her out to the woods is nerve-wracking in a way that it shouldn't be. She's his daughter. Officially. Legally. Not by blood. Bruce doesn't have anyone who's by blood. But she's definitely the closest thing to it in his heart. She's different from the boys. He doesn't know what to expect from her.

She doesn't go out and get all gross and muddy in the river with Tim, and she doesn't take up Dick's bet to climb to the top of the waterfall. Instead, Bruce finds her sitting nearby with a notebook in her hands, her hand scribbling away at something with a pen. She looks up at him and smiles, but closes the notebook and sets it off to the side, patting the ground next to her. He takes her up on her invitation and sits down besides her, their shoulders gently touching. He glances at the notebook, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, but she just smiles and shakes her head. He doesn't pry. She didn't grow up with a whole lot of privacy, and Bruce isn't about to take some away from her.

She sighs and leans back into the soft grass patch she found, and he lays back too, shoulders still touching. They're silent for a long time, the only noises around them being the leaves rustling and the distant sounds of Tim and Dick trying to figure out how to lash a rope around a tree near the river so they could swing into it.

Bruce finds himself, not for the first time, missing Jason more than ever. Jason is alive. He's back. But he hates Bruce and wants nothing to do with Bruce. Jason would be all over getting that rope swing to work. Bruce can practically imagine his young voice screaming in excitement as he launches himself into the water.

He forces those thoughts away, because this isn't about Jason right now. This is about the beautiful, perfect young lady laying besides him. His daughter. He looks over at her, and her eyes are closed and her lips turned up in a slight smile. Her bare toes wiggling in the breeze.

And Bruce thinks that maybe it's a good thing Cass isn't out and about causing trouble and getting dirty, because maybe to her that's not what this trip is about. Maybe it's just about showing her that she can sit back, close her eyes, and wiggle her toes in the breeze and be safe without having to feel obligated to do anything.

Because she is safe. And Bruce will never let anything hurt her.

When they roast marshmallows, she watched with amusement as Dick interrupts Bruce showing her the normal way to do it by shoving his own into the flames. She watches as Tim shows her how to carefully make a roasted starburst that isn't too stuff nor too drippy. She watches as Bruce suggests making a s'more with a starburst. And she tries them all, a frown on her lips the entire time. When no strategy seems to stick out to her, Bruce almost panics, not sure how to make the night fun and full of sugar like he wants to, but then she pops a raw marshmallow into her mouth with a curious tilt to her head, and then a chunk of raw chocolate, and then a bite of plain cracker.

She then quickly gains her own stash of untouched s'more supplies and her roasting stick goes forgotten. Bruce doesn't know what's so much better about eating the ingredients raw, but the sound of her muffled laughter behind a mouthful of marshmallow and chocolate as Dick struggles to blow out a flaming one is definitely something Bruce will not complain about or try to change.

Going to bed is a hassle. He brought two tents this time, just in case Cass wanted to sleep alone, and at first he thinks that is actually what will happen. He hugs her before they go their seperate ways, the urge to kiss her round cheeks stronger than ever, but he doesn't get the chance. Or the courage.

But he finds he didn't need to worry, because when he, Tim, and Dick are all snug in their bags, the zipper of their tent goes down and Bruce has the air knocked out of him as Cass collapses on top of him, wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket that she bought with Barbara. Bruce finds himself grinning as he shifts to make room for her between him and the snoring Dick, careful to not nudge the half asleep Tim too much whose under his arm on the other side.

Then, when Cass is nestled in his side, she does another thing that pleasantly surprised him. She presses her lips to his temple.

And Bruce falls asleep that night not knowing what he's done to deserve Cassandra Wayne.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Damian's first time camping. It's not his first time making s'mores. It's not even his first time having fun while camping.

Bruce was thought to be dead for almost a year, and Dick was the one who got the honor of doing those first things with Damian.

But dammit, Bruce was going to try and do this with Damian anyway, even if Damian is quiet and unsure and distrustful with Bruce.

So maybe that's why Bruce thought it was so important for it to be just him and Damian this time. Maybe this is why he didn't ask Dick how Damian liked to roast his marshmallows, or ask Alfred if he needed to bring an emergency bag of starbursts, or even considered bringing a second tent just in case Damian wanted to sleep alone.

Bruce is Damian's father. His biological one. But he doesn't feel like it.

He wants to feel like it.

He woke Damian up at the spur of the moment and coaxed the boy into the car stuffed with a weakened supply of things to get them through a surprise camping trip. Damian was too groggy in the morning to ask much questions, blinking fully awake an hour into the drive and asking with a quiet voice where they were going.

And when Bruce answered they were going to camp, Damian didn't respond with joy or excitement. Just a quiet oh that almost made Bruce pull over the car and beg Damian to let Bruce in and let him see what he's thinking.

He keeps driving, all the way until he's at the normal spot by the river and a trailhead that leads to a waterfall. Damian walks the grounds quietly as Bruce sets up the tent, his footsteps sure and curiosity lacking. He's been here before. To Bruce's perfect camping spot.

And Bruce wasn't there.

The rest of the day goes about as well as could be expected. Damian hardly says anything to Bruce, the words he does say are tense and tight, like the very thought of saying any unnecessary words to Bruce is painful. Bruce tries not to take it to heart, so he continues onward. He takes Damian hiking, he takes him to the river, and eventually they both end up at the campfire in uncomfortable silence.

Bruce watches as Damian puts the marshmallow on his stick and holds it slightly above the flames, waiting patiently for the flames to lick the white sugar golden.

Bruce sighs and risks a joke. "Finally, a son that makes s'mores normally."

He didn't expect Damian to stand up with anger in his eyes before tossing the stick down and running off into the forest. The marshmallow left forgotten as it bursts into flames in the coals.

Bruce only hesitates a second before standing up and running after his son.

Because even if he's terrified Damian wants nothing to do with him, Bruce still wants to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt in the woods.

He eventually finds Damian sitting in Cass's spot. That perfect patch of grass that's perfect for laying down in and cloud gazing. Or, this late at night, perfect for milky-way gazing.

Damian isn't looking up at the stars though. He's curled up and glaring at his feet, something suspiciously wet trailing down his cheeks.

Bruce takes in a breath, hoping bravery would enter his lungs as well, and sits down next to his son.

They're silent next to each other, for a long time, until Damian finally decides to speak up.

"You came," he says, and Bruce wants desperately to launch himself forward and wrap the boy I'm a strong embrace. "You followed me."

"I will always find you," Bruce says, and Damian sniffs.

"If... If I wasn't your kid... Would you still..."

And Bruce remembers that Damian grew up being told he was simply a tool. That he had a purpose and he was only wanted because of that purpose.

He's asking Bruce if Bruce would have still wanted him, even if their blood wasn't the same. If Bruce had no obligation to take him in and give him safety and allow him to be the second half of the dynamic duo.

Or if he would have turned the boy away.

It breaks Bruce's heart.

So he slowly reaches around Damian and pulls him closer tightly. Damian sniffles and practically launches himself into Bruce's lap, arms curling around so small that it's not a complete hug, but it's tight enough to be one of the best kinds of hugs.

"I will always want you, Damian," Bruce whispers into his hair, pressing his lips onto his forehead before he can even consider the action. "You have no need to worry. I want you more than anything in this entire world."

And they sit there, holding each other, and Bruce wonders if this is what his own parents felt for him.

And if they'd be proud of him.

Bruce carries Damian to bed after they've both let out their emotions, and even though tent is large enough to have space, he keeps Damian with him, in his arms even as he climbs into his sleeping bag.

And he's never letting go.

-o-o-o-o-

It's nowhere near Duke's first time camping, or making s'mores, or having fun, or feeling safe. But it is his first time camping with Bruce and the rest of the family.

Dick, Tim, Cass, Damian, and even Jason are all here, and Bruce won't lie and say he didn't find it amusing how intimidated Duke needlessly felt to be on a family camping trip with everyone.

It's the loudest trip Bruce had ever been apart of. The children are back to figuring out that pesky rope swing—Tim snuck a grapple hook and had the decency to look a little ashamed when Bruce noticed it—and Cass is at her normal spot with her normal notebook. Duke looks unsure and nervous, not really knowing where he fits in with all of this.

Bruce adopted most of his children when they were all young, Cass being the exception but it wasn't like she had a good experience with her last parents, so it was almost like adopting her young. But Duke is different, he's a teenager, considering college and everything. He already knows how to drive a car. He'd already had loving parents. Bruce doesn't want to step in front of that, but he still wants Duke to feel welcome and loved.

One of Bruce's favorite things in the entire world is to watch Duke slowly exit his shell that he crawls into whenever he's nervous or feeling like he's imposing. The smirk on his face that appears when Dick calls him a genius for finally being the one to figure out the rope swing. The bubbling and nervous laughter when Jason slams a hand proudly at his back when he beats the rest of the family up the waterfall in their annual race. The excited chatter when Tim shows him the best climbing tree. The relaxed posture when Cass shows him something in her notebook, and the happy smile when Cass takes his feedback in consideration. The mischievous glint in his eyes when he and Damian get into a competitive spar with pool noodles.

Bruce finds his chest so full with warmth he almost thinks it's going to burst as eventually they all end up around the campfire with roasting sticks in everyone's hands except for Cass who has her own stash of s'more supplies. Jason and Tim fight over the bag of starbursts even though Bruce was sure he brought two. Dick laughs as Damian yells angrily about his flaming marshmallow catching Damian's on fire. Cass munches on a cracker and leans into Bruce's side. Duke sits besides them all, tongue sticking outside his mouth as he concentrates on making a marshmallow that isn't golden, but isn't completely raw.

No one bugs him on his strange "I don't want it burned at all!" comment, and they all include him in their jokes and bantering. The laughter becomes do loud that Bruce is sure the entire forest can hear them.

He relishes in it. Almost feeling like he might cry.

But he doesn't. The moon rises and be ushers the kids all towards that four person tent. It's too tiny, but nobody seems to care. Not even Jason who's only made one comment about Bruce being a billionaire who's definitely rich enough to afford a bigger tent.

Because, somehow, with or without Bruce, the family had ended up close and wanting to be close together. Dick doesn't complain as Cass lays herself on top of him. Tim only snarls a little when Jason jokingly stuffs his feet in the younger boys face. Damian crawls into Bruce's side like it's the most natural thing in the world. And Duke accepts the strong hug Bruce risks and gives him. Duke then lays down with his back against Bruce's free side and his legs on top of Jason, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

And the family all fall asleep to the sounds of nature surrounding them, and the soft snores of the people they all hold dear.

And Bruce thinks that taking in a kid who's just watched his family fall from the trapeze, a kid who tried to jack the batmobile, a kid who showed up with a camera in his hands and a demand to make him Robin, a kid who decided love and happiness was more important than the way she was taught and raised, a kid who decided he didn't want to be the weapon he was born to be, and a kid who only wanted to do good after his parents were torn away from him was without question the best thing Bruce had ever done.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Dr. Chilton Hates Camping [NSFW]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Blowjobs

For @thatesqcrush’s kink bingo!

Because for some reason this picture always makes me think Frederick is packing to go camping, and he would look exactly this miserable if he was. 

1,671 words

Feathery tops of pine trees swayed blue-green in a gentle northern breeze off the lake, the late summer air buzzing with a chorus of insects and birds. Golden light cast a hazy glow over your backcountry campsite as the sun began to sink in the sky. It was beautiful and serene. Perfect, even.

For the number of fancy galas and boring dinners Dr. Chilton dragged you to, it seemed only fair that he tolerate going camping. 

“Gah! Die, you blood-sucking fiend!” Chilton shrieked, and a smacking sound echoed off the lake. He grunted. Heavy, annoyed footfalls paced across the camp.

That was your first mistake—thinking Dr. Frederick Chilton shared your notion of “fairness” or the ability to tolerate things with fewer than five stars. All day since backpacking to the primitive campsite he complained there were rocks in his shoes. He was tired. His bag was too heavy. 

A small fire crackled in the center of a bare clearing in the trees near the lake shore. You dropped a larger log onto the tinder as the flames grew hungry enough to bear it, and excitedly rifled through a stuff sack for the makings of s'mores you’d packed.

There was a hissing noise behind you, and you choked on the bitter chemical air, covering your mouth as Chilton’s nuclear cloud of bug spray wafted over to you.

“Can you not spray that upwind of me, please?” you coughed.

He glared at you miserably and swatted another mosquito.

“This is not a fair trade. The things I bring us to are enjoyable. They are civilized, and... indoors!” Swat! “It is freezing, and—and damp, and these damned bugs want to drain me like a phlebotomist in training!” Swat!

“Sit by the fire,” you suggested. “It’s warm and dry, and the smoke repels bugs.”

“It does a better job repelling my lungs.” He stood taller and temperamentally fussed with the buttons of his wool peacoat (because why would he have worn sensible technical gear when he could look stylish). “If you need me... I shall be inside! Waiting until tomorrow when we can leave!” He turned on his heel and stormed into the small, orange tent, and gave his best effort at slamming the nylon zip-up door.

You speared a fat marshmallow onto the end of a stick and sat by the fire, making a s’more while grumbling to yourself about what a baby he was being. This could have been a nice trip if he wasn’t so—ugh!

By the time you finished the crunchy melty treat, you felt much better. It got your blood sugar up, anyway. Sighing, you followed him into the tent.

Chilton had his reading glasses on and was squinting at the glowing screen of his phone as he held it in the air trying to get service… which clearly was not working. You were way off the grid.

The tent flat unzipping caught his attention, and he gave you such a pathetic look as you ducked inside. His always-perfect hair was droopy where it usually stuck up and fluffed up where it was usually slicked down.

“It is damp and cold in here too,” he whined. “And the floor! The floor is lumpy. How will I sleep?”

Your heart softened at the sight of him. He was just so adorable it made your cheeks burn. Crawling onto the sleeping bag he was sitting on, you reached out and gingerly plucked a twig from his hair.

His eyes widened in mortification, and he quickly patted down his head for any other horrible bits of nature that might have latched onto him. “This is not my idea of fun,” he said.

“Well, I’m happy that you tried it for me. Really, I’m impressed you actually came.”

His eyes darted down to your lips, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting, and one cheek twitched briefly into almost a smile. “You wanted to do this,” he said gently. Of course he was going to come.

You leaned forward to close the distance and kissed him. His eyes shut and he moaned softly into your mouth, his frazzled, exhausted, itchy body locking onto you as source of comfort like a heat-seeking missile.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmured, lips breaking away just far enough to breathe your air, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Have you ever had s’mores?”

“Of course I have,” he answered, a little offended at the implication. He was not so sheltered and elitist to have never roasted a marshmallow. “Not since I was a child…”

“I can make you one. Or if you come out, we can sit by the fire and make them together.”

He thought about it. You had straddled onto his lap, and your body heat was all the more enticing against the annoyingly wet air and cold floor. He was feeling a little less awful about the whole situation.

“But first…” you purred, hand running down the front of his shirt, continuing lower, “I was wondering how I could thank you. Since you’re doing this for me… maybe I can do something for you?”

He inhaled sharply, Adam's apple bobbing as your hand reached the front of his pants, searching between his legs. His eyes, as blue-green as the pines, fixated onto yours, but then rapidly blinked and darted around his surroundings.

“You want to do that outdoors?”

“We’re inside a tent.”

And yet he could hear squirrels chittering as if they were right inside the tent with them. The thin nylon was hardly a barrier at all, and it all felt a bit shockingly exhibitionist. But then, no one was around for miles apart from birds and squirrels who could see or hear you. The devilish idea stirred him that he could fuck you right out in the open if he wanted, like two wild animals rutting in the woods.

Exhaling a deep, breathy growl, he grabbed your face and pulled you back into a burning, fiery kiss. You grinned as he broke it, eyes still burning into you as he pushed you down to his belt.

He leaned back on his elbows, taking the passive role and letting you unbuckle his pants and slip his cock out of his underwear. He drew a sharp, quick breath in through his teeth as your tongue made contact with the tip of his head, and let it out long and easy and shuddering as the wet warmth of your mouth engulfed him. You nursed his semi-soft cock, enjoying being able to hold all of him in your mouth at once so easily, sucking and teasing it, feeling his arousal grow—his pulse getting stronger, throbbing under your tongue as his cock lengthened.

When he finally reached his full, exquisite hardness, he was too big to take in his entirety without choking. You pumped his shaft with your hand, bobbing in his lap as he let out helpless little whimpers, stroking your hair tenderly. He was always vocal in bed, but especially when he was feeling needy. He really needed to be comforted now, and you relished every shiver and moan of pleasure that told you you were doing a good job.

His fingers spasmed reflexively, pulling your hair as you took him deeper, opening your throat until you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes watered with the effort, but it turned you on feeling how much he loved it. You wanted to please Frederick so much he’d remember this trip fondly for a long time. You worked him with everything you had, twisting your hand around his shaft as you pumped it, flicking your tongue over the underside of his cock, stroking his balls, and hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him into oblivion, listening to his gasps of pleasure grow louder as he came completely undone.

His eyes squeezed closed and he threw his head back. You felt his abdominal muscles tense and twitch, and at last he could not hold his hips still and passive, and they began to jerk up into your mouth, pulsing at a rapid and shallow pace. You matched his tempo, bobbing faster on his cock, and within three shallow thrusts he shook and came with a forceful whimpering cry of your name. His hips kept pulsing and twitching as hot, salty cum flooded your tongue.

He fell back on the sleeping bag, panting. You held him in your mouth until you were sure you had licked him clean, then buttoned him back up.

He watched you lick your swollen, shiny lips with satisfaction, admiring your beauty and your skill at making him feel… amazing. It still surprised him sometimes when he stopped to think about it—that you had chosen him. Out of anyone in the world, he was the one lucky enough to have you. It really was incredible.

“I begin to understand how my primitive ancestors got by,” he hummed.

You laid yourself next to him and he happily made room for you to curl up under his arm, wriggling as you settled beside him. He was so warm, like a furnace. Funny and charming. Overdressed. Wickedly smart. God, you loved him. The woods were the last place he should be, you laughed to yourself at your own foolishness in dragging him there. He was not at all the masculine adventure type. There was no hidden rugged side deep down waiting to spring out. But it made you want to take care of him all the more. Your stuffy, helpless, whiny, suit-wearing, scotch-sipping Frederick, who braved the wilderness just to please you.

You kissed him again, warm and tender in his arms. He smiled, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Come on,” you sat up and crawled to the front of the tent, beckoning him. “Douse yourself in bug spray, and lets sit by the fire, stuff ourselves with s’mores, and watch the sun set over the mountains.”

“I suppose...” he considered it, eyes narrowed cautiously, “it does not sound that horrible.”

[banshee1013]

Fic - Sticky Sweet

Yesterday was the #DeanCasWedding, which of course means today must be - the #DeanCasHoneymoon! Written for the SPN Family Discord Valentine’s Exchange, this was not necessarily written as a honeymoon fic, but it works! Enjoy! 

Title: Sticky Sweet Rating: Teen Tags: Castiel/Dean, Camping, Tooth-rotting Fluff (literally) Word Count: 1768 Summary:  Dean has been introducing a newly-human Cas to human things - the latest: camping under the stars, complete with tent, campfire, and s'mores -- but Castiel has a surprise for Dean as well. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422437

==========================================

Dean holds on to the thin thread of his patience as he threads the tent pole through the seemingly unending number of loops running over the top side of the tent, grumbling to himself as he has to back the pole out due to missing a loop. Finally, the tent poles are in place and he uses the ties at the pinnacle of the tent to anchor where the tent poles meet and then stands, dusting off his knees. Starting at one corner, he pops the pole end into the tent foot, making his way around to all four corners until the tent is finally upright. He stands back and crosses his arms to admire his work, then looks around for Cas and smiles fondly when he sees him.

While he was pitching the tent (the thought makes him grin, of course), he had sent Cas out to find some firewood and to build the fire pit, handing him a small evac tool (basically a mini-shovel) to clear the ground where the pit would go and instructing him to find some nice round river rock from the small creek nearby to line it with. Cas had done spectacularly, a substantial stack of various sizes of tree branches and a three-ish foot circle of ground cleared nearby. Currently, the former angel was crouched on the ground next to a small pile of oval-shaped stones and was placing them in a ring around the cleared space with the precision one usually associates with engineering a spacecraft.

“Hey, Cas, that looks great! Can you come help me with the tent cover please?”

Cas looks up from his ring of stones, smiles and rises to his feet; but his brows pinch together as he looks past Dean and at the tent. “That does not look very secure, Dean. Are you sure it will remain stationary?”

Dean laughs and pulls Cas in for a hug as he approaches, then turns him around to face the tent, keeping an arm over his shoulder. “When we put the top cover on — that keeps moisture from rain and morning dew from getting inside — we’ll anchor it with those tent spikes,” he motions toward the four silver rods lying at each corner of the tent. “But I need help getting the cover on evenly.” Cas nods and heads toward the tent, Dean following and he can’t help but admire the view.

Dean has finally managed to rid him of the ubiquitous trench coat, suit, and tie, replacing it with a royal blue hoodie the color of his eyes and dark grey Henley, the sleeves pulled up to expose muscular forearms; and dark blue jeans that hug his surprisingly slender form — and does wonders for Dean’s libido. The fact that the trench coat and ill-fitting suit hid his drool-worthy body all this time is a travesty that Dean continually laments — but is glad to have rectified, especially as the jeans draw tight around those remarkably muscular thighs when Cas crouches down to inspect the tent spikes.

The sun is just starting to dip behind the trees and just then a shaft of light streaks through the branches, backlighting Cas in yellow-orange light and setting his dark brown head glowing like a halo, and Dean gasps at the sight. He’s absolutely gorgeous, how have I been so blind? Cas glances over his shoulder, head tilted and a puzzled look in his eye, the same shaft of light striking and turning them into blue fire.

Dean suddenly realizes he’s the luckiest sonuvabitch alive.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Blinking, Dean shakes his head and smiles, moving toward the tent. “Yeah… I’m great, Cas.” Kneeling down next to him, he takes Cas’ face in both hands and kisses him, soft and chaste… but the next thing Dean knows, he’s on his back with Cas over him, groaning against his lips as he deepens the kiss.

Cas finally breaks the kiss to gasp for air, and even though it’s literally the last thing he wants to do, Dean gently pushes him back. “We’re losing the light, sweetheart, and we gotta finish putting this tent together,” he gasps. Cas sighs and rises to his feet, offering a hand down to pull Dean up. They quickly get to work and in no time, the tent cover is pulled over the top and the tent staked down securely.

“Cas, can you finish with the campfire? I’m gonna get the rest of our camping stuff.” Dean rushes to the car to grab their sleeping bags, cooler, and Coleman grill — no way was he going to attempt to cook an actual meal over a campfire — while Cas finishes placing the stones around the cleared area and setting some of the firewood he’d gathered inside; smaller sticks on the bottom and tenting some of the larger pieces over the top. By the time Dean has returned and placed their sleeping bags inside the tent, Cas already has a nice fire going. Dean smiles as he sees Cas perched on the smooth log he’d managed to find, placed in front of the fire for them to sit on, and digs into the bag next to the cooler for the surprise he brought.

He joins Cas at the fire with his treasures in hand — two long metal sticks with handles, a bag of jumbo marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and several fun-sized Hersey chocolates. “Ever had s’mores, Cas?” he asks, setting the items down by the log before taking a seat next to him.

Cas leans over and glances at the items by Dean’s feet with that adorable head-tilt Dean loves. “I don’t believe I have.”

Dean smiles and leans over to kiss him quickly. “Well, then, you’re in for a treat.” He tears open the bag of marshmallows and plucks one out, spearing it on the stick and holding it over the fire. “The trick is to get it close enough to the fire for it to melt and char a little. Don’t let it stay still or it’ll burn and that’s no good.” He demonstrates, twirling the marshmallow over the fire until it’s golden brown.

“Now, grab one of the graham crackers, snap it in half, and unwrap the chocolate.” Cas follows his instructions as Dean pulls the marshmallow from the fire. “Okay, place the chocolate on one half of the graham cracker…” Cas does and Dean maneuvers the marshmallow over the chocolate and cracker, “... now pinch it with the other half of the graham cracker.” With his free hand, Dean reaches over to cover Cas’ hand with his own to show him how to squish the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate and pulls the stick free.

Cas looks at the s’more in his hand, turning it this way and that as chocolate melted by the hot marshmallow begins to drip. “Quick! Eat it!” Dean nudges his hand toward his mouth and Cas takes a big bite, the gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate squirting out from the other side and onto his hand.

Cas finishes the bite, but then frowns. “It’s very good,” he comments, the frown intensifying as the chocolate and marshmallow start to slide down his arm, “but it’s also very messy.”

Dean is not about to miss this opportunity, grabbing Cas’ arm and running his tongue up it, lapping up the melted marshmallow and chocolate, his eyes never leaving Cas’ face and feeling the flush crawl up his neck at the heat reflected there — and not just from the proximity of the fire. Taking the remaining portion of the s’more into his mouth, he sucks the remaining marshmallow and chocolate from Cas’ fingers, running his tongue in and around them and taking immense pleasure in the way Cas’ breath hitches.

No sooner has he finished swallowing the bite than Cas has him on his back in front of the log, mouth on his and licking the sweetness from it; his body warm and firm against his, and Dean can’t stifle the moan that follows.

Cas finally pulls back, his cheeks flushed and breath harsh. “I would like another, please.”

Awhile later, sated on s’mores and kisses, Dean leans against the log between Cas’ knees, head resting on a thick thigh as Cas runs a (thankfully clean due to the wet wipes Dean had the foresight to pack) hand through his hair. His eyes are getting heavy and the last thing he wants to do right now is move.

Cas has other ideas.

“Dean, I need to get up.” Dean groans and grips his thigh in protest, but Cas is insistent. “I won’t be long, I promise.” With an exaggerated sigh, Dean releases his grip on Cas’ thigh and lifts his head, and Cas rises from the log and disappears into the darkness behind them. He hears the trunk of the Impala open, a rustling of fabric, and the trunk shutting again; then Cas is back. Dean watches as he lays a blanket on the ground on the other side of the fire opposite the log. Sitting on the blanket with his legs spread, he pats the area in between.

Dean gets the message. He crawls around the fire to where Cas sits and nestles himself in the proffered area on the blanket, his back to Cas’ broad chest, and leans back, closing his eyes. From behind them, he feels Cas’ arms reach behind on either side, pulling something up over his shoulders.

“The thing I miss the most since losing my Grace,” he says quietly, haltingly, “is holding you with my wings.” He sighs, and Dean hears more rustling, this time sounding like… feathers? The rustling pulls around them, followed by encompassing warmth; and Dean opens his eyes gasping at the sight of black feathers wrapped around him, brilliant blues and greens and scattered flecks of gold shining in the firelight.

“Even though they were not corporeal, and not technically consisting of cormorant feathers, I knew you could still feel them — and this was the best representation I could find,” he said as he spreads the blanket of feathers fully around them, pulling Dean close and laying his cheek against the crown of his head.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat as he’s suffused in the warmth of the feathers and Cas’ body. His hands grasp Cas’ wrists and pulls him tighter.

“This is amazing,” he says, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. “I love you so much, Cas.”

He feels Cas’ smile against the top of his head, then lips pressed against his temple. “And I, you, Dean.”

[canyouerasemyscarsandbemysoilder]

Dolan Twins Preferences #5: Date Night (Quarantine Edition)

Grayson: Even after years of dating Grayson always made me feel special. Always sending flowers to my work, or leaving little notes around the house. I always sent him random things as well, it was easy showing our love. Unfortunately, since COVID came into America, our lives had been turned upside down. Just like everyone else, we had to work from home. It seemed that we were always in each other's way. Either he was trying to film with Ethan, which by the way had to move in with us. Or he was trying to build something. It seemed like I was connected to my computer which I hated. I always tried to make it a point to leave work at work and focus on my personal life at home. With these stay at home orders, work came home and it was putting a strain on our relationship. “Babe? You busy?” he asked as he leaned against the door frame. “I just finished for now,” I said as I turned to face him. “Is it possible that we could do something tonight?” he asked. “Everything is closed,” I said. “I know that, at home. I just wanted to have a date night” he moved closer to me. Placing his hand against my hip as he looked down. “Date night?” I asked as I looked up at him. “Yea date night, I have something in mind” he said. “I would love to” I said. “But?” he said. “No, but, I would love too” I smiled as I looked up at him. “Good” he leaned down and kissed me softly. I smiled against his lips before kissing him. “Stay up here, no peaking outside,” he said. “Alright deal” I said. “Love you” he kissed my forehead before heading downstairs. It was hard not to peak but I kept my word and waited for his return. He soon came back upstairs with a blindfold. “Put this on,” he said. “Only because I trust you,” I said as I placed the blindfold over my eyes. He guided me downstairs and into the backyard, we stopped moving and he got in front of me. He lifted off the blindfold and I just smiled as I looked around. He had sat up a picnic spot with plenty of pillows and blankets, a screen so we could watch a movie. “Grayson,” I said. “I wanted to reset things and get back to us,” he said. “This is perfect,” I said. “Come on” he grabbed my hand leading me towards the picnic. We sat down on the blanket as the movie started. It was perfect timing because the sun was just setting, it was beautiful. He pulled out some chocolate covered strawberries and other fruits. He picked up one of the strawberries and held it to my lips. I took a bite and smiled at him. He finished the strawberry as I leaned back. He moved closer to me wrapping his arm around me, pulling the blanket around us. I rested my head against his chest, tracing his tattoos on his leg. By the time the movie was finished the stars were out. I moved the pillow so I could fully lay back, looking up at the stars. “There's so many tonight” he whispered. “Yea it's a beautiful night,” I said. “Just as beautiful as you,” he said as he played with my fingers. “I love you,” I said as I looked at him. “I love you” he slightly moved over me, kissing my lips softly. I placed my hand against his chest as I kept the kiss between us. He pulled away softly as he got up from the blanket. I watched him as he went inside for a quick second. Music started playing as well as a light show on the screen. He returned back outside and reached for my hand. I took his hand and got up, he placed my arms around my neck. He placed his arms around my waist as we started dancing to the music. It was a perfect ending to a date night that we both needed.

Ethan: It was always an adventure with Ethan, he never likes sitting in one place for too long. That meant a lot of long nights, and sleeping in until noon. I loved every moment with him, he was the one for me. Since we had to be staying home it was kinda hard for both of us. We would make forts, stay in the pool until the sunrise. We both started working from home so our schedule started to clash. I needed to wake up at a certain hour to get the work done but he always wanted to stay up late. Somehow we started getting back on the right path between us and started having fun again. This whole thing felt like a big vacation from the real world. “Babe?” Ethan called out. “Yeah?” I walked into the bedroom. “There you are” he smiled as he saw me. “Here I am,” I said. “What you up too?” he said as he moved towards me, kissing my cheek softly. “I'm done with work for today,” I said. “Really?” he said. “Yeah, what are you up too?” I questioned. “We just finished the video, you want to do something?” he asked. “Like?” I asked.  “Beach?” he looked at me. “Anything with you is worth the risk” I smiled. “Let's go,” he said. I nodded and went to get ready as he did. We left the house and started to make our way to the beach. Of course, we had a mask on until we were in public, away from everyone else. The beach was pretty empty though, the sun setting was always a sight to see. Especially at the beach because the water just made it that much more beautiful. I sat down on the sand as he sat down behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned back against him as we watched the sunset. “I love simple date nights with you,” I said. “Grayson is sitting up a bonfire” he whispered in my ear. “Sounds fun,” I said. “I'm going to go get the 4-wheeler,” he said as he got up. “Ok babe,” I said. He left and soon returned on the 4-wheeler. I got up and got on the back of the 4-wheeler, putting my helmet on as well. I wrapped my arms around him. We rode down by the water, trying not to get the 4-wheeler too wet. I rested my head against his shoulder as I enjoyed the ride. We finally made it back to the house and Grayson had the fire pit going. Once Gray saw us he went inside and allowed our alone time together. “I have marshmallows, chocolate and stuff for s'mores,” he said. “You know the way to my heart” I said as I sat down by the fire. He sat next to me handing me a stick for the marshmallows. I started to roast mine as he did his. We made a few s'mores before we laid back in the chairs, he pulled me closer to him. “I'm so lucky to call you mine,” he said. “I'm the lucky one” I looked up at him. “Hush it” he rolled his eyes. “I love you” I kissed his lips softly. “I love you,” he said against my lips. “I can't wait for everything to be back open” I said. “I know right, going stir crazy,” he said. “Same” I admitted. “But you help a lot” he brushed the hair from my face. “You help” I looked at him. “Let's go watch the sunrise,” he said. “We have a few more hours, let's just stay here” I rubbed his chest. “Ok babe” he snuggled closer to me. We both didn't get to watch the sunrise because we both fell asleep in each other's arms. I couldn't wait to actually got out again for our date nights, but I loved his ideas for date night inside.

[purple-cat-demon]

Sweet Sensuality

For Voltage-Vixen's Summer of Smut Writing Challenge: Sharing S'mores

Pairing: Gavin x Hazel

Genre: smut 18+

Tags: food play, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (they're married).

“Microwaving S’mores? That’s a thing?" Gavin gave his wife a skeptical look. The way he knew how to make s’mores involved sticks and a campfire. Hazel just beamed at him, while holding the bag of marshmallows.

“It is when you don’t have access to actual fire, although you don’t get that crispy outside for the marshmallow,” her voice trailed off a little, “but they’re still good and messy!” 

Gavin cocked an eyebrow at her, he was still not convinced.

The s’mores supplies were laid out on the kitchen counter: graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate bars and two paper plates. Gavin watched as Hazel put the first set of graham crackers on one paper plate. She then grabbed the chocolate bar and broke it into four pieces, laying them on top of the graham crackers. Next came the marshmallows, two a piece on each set of crackers. Gavin moved out of the way of the microwave as she reached for the handle. In they went and in twenty seconds, they were done. She put the second set of crackers on top and pressed down, causing the  marshmallows and chocolate to ooze out the sides. She held out the plate to Gavin, and he went to take one off the plate but Hazel stopped him.

“I suggest you take the plate, these are very messy. I’ll get you a wet paper towel as well~”

He took her advice, which was good that he did, because when he bit into the s’more, it oozed melted chocolate onto the plate. Marshmallow that was stuck to the plate, stretched in sticky webs, causing it to stay on Gavin’s fingers. His wife handed him the wet paper towel.

“That was a good idea,” he said as he wiped his fingers clean of the sticky treat.

“Well, what do you think of microwaveable s’mores?”

“Hmm, not bad, but it’s not the same.”

She smiled at him as she made her set of s’mores. As she was enjoying her treats, the melted marshmallow got onto her fingers. Before she could reach for the wet paper towel, Gavin grabbed her hand and licked the two sticky digits clean. She blushed a beet red.

“This way is good too~,” he said with a sly grin. She cackled at his cheesy suave attitude. Hazel then took a little bit of the melted chocolate and dabbed it on his nose. He blinked in confusion and was then yanked forward by his wife so she could kiss him on the nose and lick the chocolate off. This gave him a rather naughty idea that he would definitely try out in the very near future.

One Week Later

Now having mastered microwavable s’mores, Gavin wanted to do something more with the ooey gooey treat. The marshmallows proved to be way too messy for his plan so he stuck with just the chocolate and graham crackers.

“Honey, what’s taking you so long,” a whine came from the bedroom.

“Just a little longer…,” he called back, lightly chuckling at her impatience. He arranged the treats on a paper plate and then headed to the bedroom. Hazel was perched towards the foot of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of bullet patterned panties (courtesy of her husband). She bounced a little when he appeared at the doorway, causing him to stop mid-step.

“Wait, do that again.”

“What? This?”

She bounced again, her boobs bouncing up and down along with her body.

“Yup, thank you~”

Hazel snorted.

“Honey, you’re such a dork…”

“Yes, but I come bearing treats,” he said as he presented the plate to his wife. She looked at it in a confused manner.

“I think you forgot something…”

“No, I have ulterior motives,” he gave a sly grin to his bewildered wife. She took one and bit into it; chocolate oozed out the sides and onto her chest.

“Ah, Honey, did you bring any paper towels?”

“Nope,” he answered as he pounced on her, hungrily lapping up the chocolate. It finally clicked in Hazel’s head what her husband was up to. She bit into the treat again, purposely letting the chocolate fall, this time a little further down to her stomach. At that point, Gavin had set the plate down on the dresser in order to pin Hazel down on the bed. He licked at the chocolate on her stomach, causing her to laugh and thrash about.

“W-wait… what… about you?”

Gavin looked up to meet her gaze.

“What do you mean?”

She sat up and pointed to the abandoned plate of treats.

“Gimme,” she said while childishly grabbing for it. He snorted and got the plate. She placed it on the nightstand before yanking her husband on the bed by his lounge pants. Hazel wriggled out from beneath him and made him flip onto his back. She went for another treat, but instead of feeding it to Gavin, she smooshed it, causing the chocolate to drip all over his chest.

“Think you can one up me on the food play,” she said while taking another bite of the treat. Her husband, momentarily caught off guard, regained his composure and snatched his wife’s wrist, pulling her toward him.

“Wait,” she told him, earning her a frustrated growl from her husband. She straddled him and bent down to lap up the chocolate. As she did so, she rolled her hips over his now present erection. He moaned at both sensations, goosebumps forming as her teeth lightly grazed his nipples. She trailed her tongue over all the spots where the chocolate had landed, stopping just above his waist band. She left the comfort of his groin area (much to Gavin’s dismay) and grabbed another treat, while yanking her panties off. Hazel repositioned herself back onto her husband but this time on his legs. She tugged his lounge pants down, letting his length spring forth. Lightly smooshing the treat, she let the chocolate drip onto his length. Gavin’s breath hitched in his dry throat as Hazel did feather light licks along his length.

‘Oh boy, I hope I’m doing this right…’ she nervously thought. She let a little bit more chocolate dribble onto the head before taking him into her mouth. The saltiness of the skin mixed with the sweet taste of the chocolate made for an interesting combination. She didn't go too deep for fear of the gag reflex; not wanting to ruin this new technique. Gavin desperately grabbed for the sheets as she swirled her tongue around him; he wasn’t quite ready for just how good that felt.

‘Hm, let me try the head bob method,’ she mentally psyched herself up; trying to remember all the pointers that Willow and Kiki had told her. As soon as she started to bob her head up and down, a guttural moan came from Gavin, startling her. She then hummed a little; quite proud of herself of how unraveled her husband was.

He twitched a little, signaling her to do one last swirl of her tongue before releasing him. An almost cry of anguish came from her husband. She sank down on his length easily and began rolling her hips as he bucked into her. With a choked cry, he found his release pretty quickly with Hazel following soon after.

Coming down from her high, she collapsed onto Gavin’s chest; his strong arms encircling her. His breathing was still heavy as he planted a kiss atop her head.

“Geez, Love, you keep surprising me with these different tactics you’re using. Fess up, who’s teaching you this? Please don’t say Minor…”

Hazel exploded into laughter.

“Oh no, no, not Minor. Poor guy got his fair share of TMI when Willow and Kiki were giving me pointers. I don’t think he'll look at bananas the same way again.”

Gavin stared blankly while taking all that in. He put his hands to his face, covering his second-hand embarrassment for his friend. 

“Oh man, poor Minor…,” he chuckled. He propped himself up on his elbows to face his lovely wife. 

“So what else have these two little pervs been teaching my not-so-innocent wife?”

Hazel giggled and put a finger to her lips.

“That, my love, is a secret~”

~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so this was my first time writing smut with a BJ involved... Nervous as hell in case y'all didn't notice in the writing. I hoped I made it believable~ 😅

@stehkotori

@voltage-vixen

[honeycombme]

Easy As Breathing pt. 3

Ladies and gentleman, does the fluff ever end? I fucking hope not.

You looked to Clyde as Lauren stumbled back towards you, drunk and adventurous. At the same time, Jimmy sauntered back with his towel slung over his left shoulder. As everyone reappeared, Clyde cleared his throat and took a quick swig of his beer. 

You threw him a knowing glance, each of you returning the greetings from everyone around you. Lauren, positively tipsy, insisted that you break open the s'mores kit and dig in. You had no objections, s'mores were the next best option to kissing Clyde. Actually. No they weren't. 

You all snacked and continued to have some laughs until Lauren and Jimmy's friend decided to go on...another...walk? You threw Lauren your small flashlight and she winked to you as she disappeared through the campsite. Was this about to become a horror film? 

Jimmy cleared his throat and announced that he was heading to bed. You weren't certain if you were supposed to up and go to bed as well because Clyde remained still. He kept looking between you and the fire, messing around with some sticks near his feet. Once Jimmy walked a ways towards his tent, Clyde spoke up. 

"Don't be feelin like ya need to stay up on account'a me, I'll wait up til Lauren gets back for ya," he smiled sheepishly. 

"Not really feeling too tired yet," you sighed, "plus I need to get this fire smell off me before I stink up the tent...think the water is warm?

You looked to the lakes edge, fireflies passing through small shrubs along the water. 

"If you want, you can borrow my shampoo and go rinse off," he offered politely. 

"Honestly, not a bad idea. I'm just gonna go put on a swimsuit and be right back," you stood. You stumbled a bit towards your tent, snaking inside and closing it. You rummaged through the bag Lauren packed looking for the swimsuit she grabbed you. You stumbled upon a store bag and pulled out the contents. 

Dear God. 

The straps. The cut outs. The color. The mesh. 

You pulled it on begrudgingly, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself. You were painfully aware of how far this thing was between your butt cheeks. 

Here's to praying I don't look like a busted can of biscuits. 

You shuffled out, closing the tent behind you. Clyde was kneeling by the water, running his hands through the glassy lake. 

"S'not too chilly, but I wouldn't wanna be in the for long," he declared. He turned to you, standing to his full height. "Skinny dippin'?"

You laughed, seriously praying he'd turn and leave. "not necessarily...though I think Lauren might as well have left me that option.."

"Can't be that bad, darlin'. If you want, I can put it on after you," he chuckled. He shook the bottle in his hand. "Oh, right, brought this for you. Don't go givin away my secrets now!" 

His shampoo was in his hand, waiting for you to take it. You dropped your towel and took the shampoo from him, brushing some hair behind your ear. The moon cast diamonds onto the lake surface as a breeze rolled through. The chill of it racked your nerves, perking your nipples. You were aware of their presence through the thin fabric. His eyes glanced you over, smiling shyly. 

"My my miss y/n, I think Lauren knew just what she was doin."

A shiver ran through your spine. You clutched the shampoo to yourself, feeling slightly bolder. "I don't think it's quite right for me to be like this all by myself though, what do you think?"

He grinned, hand gripping the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. 

Wow. 

He was full. Wide. Muscular. Soft. Hard. Speckled in gorgeous freckles. He looked like a god in this lighting. You hoped you looked even an ounce as good, begging that your ass would provide an equally tasty sight. You smiled from ear to ear, looking from Clyde to the ground. Your shyness had crept back into your bloodstream, feeling blush blooming in your cheeks and nerves finding your hands. 

"Well that certainly is better," you said quietly. 

You turned to the water, testing the temperature with your toes. 

"I might as well wash up too, no point in delayin the shock," he muttered as you heard something thud to the ground and felt him sprint past you into the water. You looked back and it was his prosthetic. 

You felt a jolt of wildness and followed his lead, feet betraying your senses. The water was both shockingly cold and warm at the same time. Your breath came in spurts as your blood accepted this new environment. You dipped your head below the water, the muffled sound of movement underneath playing at your eardrums. When you surfaced, Clyde was floating on his back. You held tight to the bottle he gave you, opening the lid to test the scent. It was heaven. Clyde looked to you when he heard the bottle open. Soon, though, he dove underwater and out of sight. 

Then, you felt the wake of his movements immediately followed by his hand grabbing your ankles. You kicked back in laughter, attempting to escape him. He surfaced, gasping for air and flipping his hair out of his face. You both laughed as he floated towards you, flipping back onto his back as he got close. 

"I'll hold the bottle if you're feelin generous...I'm a sucker for people playin with ma hair," he stated, throwing big puppy dog eyes your way. You melted. 

"Only condition is that I'm next," you laughed. 

He righted himself, kneeling so you could reach his head. He relaxed against the soft waves of the water as you put a dollop of shampoo into your palm. Dutifully, he took the bottle for you. You began to lather, working at his scalp and running your hand through his silken hair. His eyes relaxed, heavy lids closing at your touch. You ran your nails carefully through, creating suds and a sweet, spicy aroma in the water. You breathed deep, and he sighed. 

"I could be gettin used ta this," he grinned with his eyes still closed. 

You took some extra bubbles and placed a small amount on the tip of his nose. "There. This is my masterpiece." His hand came to meet the hairstyle youd given him, hair standing straight up and twisted at the top. You laughed hard and he chuckled, dipping his head under to rinse off. The water still smelled incredible. 

When he came back up, he rubbed his eyes and walked towards you. "ok deals a deal."

You took the bottle and he took you by surprise; scooping you under your knees with his good arm and gently held onto your back with his injured one, your hair floating in the water. His arm surfaced, hand out for some shampoo. Your hands were a little shaky, but you obliged. He began working small circles into your scalp, one massive hand lathering up your entire crown as you relaxed into his embrace. His hair dripped onto your exposed skin, breasts perking at the temperature of it. You attempted to control your chest as your breath deepened. His hands felt so good, so genuine. 

You imagined what they would feel like, elsewhere. After what seemed like half an hour of silence and scalp massages he released your back leaving the coldest water to assault the skin there. You opened your eyes as you dipped your neck back a little further, belly on fire. You breathed. You were still holding onto the bottle of shampoo, moonlight playing at the beads of water on both of your skin. 

He looked at you, down to the water, then to your breasts. You waded backwards through the water, never breaking eye contact with him. Once you were close enough to the edge, you ditched the bottle of shampoo and dove under. The water assaulted your eardrums as you maneuvered your way towards him. You Rose to the surface, mere inches away from his body. You wiped the water from your face, looking to his. His chest was heaving, hand curled into a ball. 

Your small hand closed the distance between the two of you, placing it sweetly on his chest. He relinquished his hellish grip as his hand came to meet the small of your back. You bobbed in the water, silence and tension like lighting between the two of you. And just like thunder, his mouth crashed into yours, lips rolling over and over causing your body to tremor and quake. His body was on fire beneath the cool water and almost reflexively, your legs came to wrap around his hips. There you felt an unfamiliar sensation at his waistband, his hand holding your back steady now gripping your ass. 

You leaned into his kisses, pressure from both ends causing your necks to crane and twist, but it was fluid. You forgot to breathe; needy and forceful you drank air in through your nose and exhaled as slowly as you could. You felt so wet, too wet, even for being underwater. 

His arm came to support your entire back, hand caressing your neck as he bobbed in the water with you, fully attached at the lips. They were plush, warm, and sweet; the taste of apple pie moonshine ghosting your taste buds. He pulled away softly, nuzzling his nose into yours and taking a shaky breath, when you opened your eyes, his smile was brighter than the moon itself. 

[aufanficfanatic]

BNHA Pokémon AU Part 1: Kirishima Eijirou

I. ROCKRUFF --------

It was a different world these days. Brock didn't want to sound like an old man—he was only thirty, after all—but it seemed like the world had been a lot smaller back in his youth. One region, one Pokédex with 150 slots to fill, and everyone gushing over a simple boxy computer that could store Pokémon for the first time. Now, there were multiple regional dexes, and WiFi towers everywhere, and every year technology seemed to get simultaneously more and less complicated. Somehow.

Brock sighed, shaking snow out of his spiky brown hair as he emerged from Rock Tunnel, his Onix slithering by his side with a satisfied air about him. He should be satisfied, Brock thought with fondness. There had been a lot of ice-types in the Tunnel, obviously having migrated down from the mountain peaks due to the winter season, and his Onix had handled himself well. Better than Brock himself, who was still shivering. "G-great workout, Onix! Y-you're really starting to limber up-p," he encouraged through clattering teeth. Onix rumbled in pleasure.

Gym Leader and Pokémon crunched through the snow as they made their way to Brock's destination, smiling at the people who recognized Pewter's famous gym leader—and here was another sign of the ever-expanding world. Used to be, Route 9 was a hiker's dream—one lonely Pokémon Center, and nothing but trails and wild Pokémon wherever else you looked. And then the Power Plant was built, and the area became an important centre of Kanto energy production. A rugged but quaint little town sprang up around the Pokémon Center, supporting the Power Plant workers and their families. It had swallowed up a lot of Route 10 and pushed a lot of wild Pokémon further up the mountain. Still, the people here really seemed to live respectfully and cleanly, building places for Pokémon to gather and maintain a community garden full of berry trees.

On the outskirts of town, a little further into the wild area of Route 9, lay another landmark, and the reason for Brock's visit: Rockruff Ranch. Brock stared up at the torii gate that marked the entrance into the large property, declaring its name with a little diamond motif that matched the collar on a Rockruff. He felt apprehensive, unsure of what he would find here.  

Listen, he understood what it meant, having open communication in an expanding world. People and Pokémon alike were moving, resettling, flying and surfing their way into every corner of the globe—and it was fine. It was a part of life in the new age. But a Kanto breeder trying to specialize in an Alolan Pokémon ...? Brock could be forgiven if he had some misgivings. He'd been a Pokémon Breeder in the past and would be again someday. Kanto may have a temperate climate, but it was a far cry from the sunny paradise that was Alola. Also, rock-type Pokémon had a special place in his heart. He would lose respect for himself as a gym leader if he didn't make sure all the Rockruffs here were happy and healthy.  

Determination overtaking the apprehension, Brock motioned to his Onix and moved forward into the ranch. The house was set back a ways from the gate, but the land here was well-manicured and open, and Brock could see the entirety of the property stretched out before him. There was the house, with the area around it fenced-in. There was a building behind the house that looked like a re-purposed stable. A large swimming hole in the front of the property was iced over with the winter temperatures. Trees dotted the land, berry and non-berry.

It came from behind one of those trees, and it came swiftly and without mercy. "PLLEEFFBB," Brock sputtered as the snowball nailed him right in the face, covering him in white powder.

"Supa 'ffective!" Shouted a tiny voice, accompanied by an equally-tiny bark. A small boy tumbled out from behind the tree, dressed warmly in snow pants and boots, a rats-nest of black hair sticking out of his woolly hat. A little brown Pokémon loped beside the boy, Brock's first sighting of a Rockruff—and he nearly sputtered again as he took in the sight of it.

It had four little paw-boots, and it was wearing an obviously hand-knitted sweater, and it was the cutest damn thing Brock had ever seen in his life. 

"Hey, Mista! You're s'posed to faint because it was supa 'ffective! Like this!" The boy called as he ran up to Brock, and then turned to his little Rockruff puppy. "Riot, supa 'ffective!" And Brock had the utter delight of watching both toddler and puppy collapse in the snow in a fake faint.  

Laughing, Brock crouched down and said to the giggling boy, "Very impressive! You'll make a great trainer someday. What's your name, kid?"

"I'm Eijirou! And this is Riot! Are you here for a Rockruff? They're really cool and great!" He leapt up from the snow, grabbing Brock's hand and starting to dragging him towards the house. "Riot is my Rockruff! Kaa-san gave him to me for my birthday! I'm five now! He's my best friend! My very own Pokémon!" Brock really got the feeling that the kid mostly communicated through exclamations.

In front of them, the door to the house opened, and a willowy woman stepped onto the porch. "Eij, time for you and Riot to come in—oh! Hello, sir. Can I help you?"

"Mama, look! I found a cust'mer! He wants a Rockruff!" Brock smiled through his confusion. Mama ... not Kaa-san? And the woman didn't look Kantoan at all. She hadn't recognized Brock, either. Was she foreign? She did have a slight accent ... but Brock didn't travel enough to other regions to place it.

"Yes, hello. My name is Brock, I'm the rock-type Gym Leader in Pewter City. I hope you don't mind my dropping in unannounced, but I'd heard about your breedery, and I wanted to see it for myself."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't look upset or uncomfortable by his presence. Instead, she smiled brightly, turning her head to shout back into the house, "Maiko, come to the door, please! We have a visitor!" She then walked down the steps, going over to Brock to shake his hand—definitely not Kantoan, Johtoan, or Alolan then. Such a tactile greeting suggested she was perhaps an Unovan or a Galarian. "It's such a pleasure to have you here, Mr Brock. My partner and I would be delighted to give you a tour of our humble breedery," she said, her grip firm and sure on Brock's hand. The little boy latched onto the woman's legs, having lost interest in the conversation, and instead begged to stay outside for a little longer.

Another woman stepped out of the house, this one clearly the mother of the little boy wrapped around the foreigner, as they shared the same black hair and cat-like red eyes. This woman was indeed Kantoan, as she gasped the moment she caught sight of the famous Rock leader. "Brock-sama! What a wonderful surprise!" From behind her, a beautiful orange-and-white Pokémon trotted out the door and down the steps, clearly very friendly and unafraid of strangers as it sniffed curiously at Brock's Onix. Luckily, Onix was used to being around unfamiliar Pokémon, so he just slithered in a playful circle and lowered his head to greet the other.

"What a beautiful Pokémon. Is that the evolved form of Rockruff? I'm not too familiar with Alolan Pokémon—I don't travel much," Brock admitted.

Kirishima Maiko smiled, beckoning Brock towards the house. "Yes, that's one of the forms Lycanroc can take. Please, come inside, let me show you."

"Kaa-san, can Riot and I stay out a bit longer? We gotta train s'more!" Eijirou left his mama and went to Maiko, tugging on her dress cutely. Brock didn't quite understand the relationship between the two women, and why Eijirou called them both mother, but that wasn't his business and wasn't why he'd come.

"I could really use your help showing off all our Rockruffs, Ei. What do you say? Will you be Brock-sama's tour guide?"

The little boy cheered and immediately grabbed Brock's hand. "I'll show you! Come on!"

As it turns out, the little five-year-old did make an excellent tour guide, and Rockruff Ranch lived up to all Brock's high standards and then some. Each Rockruff was showered with love, attention, and training. The differing climate was taken into consideration for the little ones, who had winter wear for the snow until they grew to level 10 and were strong enough to thrive in the Kantoan weather. The Lycanrocs apparently came in three forms depending on the time of day they evolved. While there were plenty of midday and midnight forms wandering around (separated from each other due to their conflicting natures), only Kirishima Maiko's Lycanroc was that beautiful orange-and-white dusk form. "The dusk form is hardest to get, as there is a much smaller window of time for the Rockruff to evolve," Maiko explained while Brock used a brush to spoil her relaxed Lycanroc. "My late husband ... he planned her evolution so carefully, down to the second." Her smile was fond and bittersweet. "He loved Lycanroc so much. This was his dream, you know, opening a Rockruff breedery and showing all of Kanto how great Rockruffs are."

Well, that solved part of the mystery. Brock set down the brush and bowed to Maiko. "I'm sorry for your loss. But you honour him greatly with Rockruff Ranch. I'll admit I came here because I had reservations about it—but I'm so glad to be able to admit that I was wrong, and this is one of the best breederies I've ever seen."

Maiko's eyes were wet as she smiled at him and bowed back. "Your praise means everything to me. Thank you, Brock-sama."

Brock stood up, having seen and heard all he needed to make this declaration: "From this moment on, you have the full weight of the Pewter Rock Gym and my status as a Rock-Type master behind you. I would like to publically endorse this breedery if you don't mind. Do you have any advertisements or posters I could hang in the Gym lobby?"

After copious rounds of tears, thank-you's, and overly-affectionate hugs from canine Pokémon and toddlers, Brock finally made his way back outside and down the long drive out of the ranch. "You're always welcome, Mr Brock," the willowy woman said as she walked him out. She was still a little bit of a mystery to Brock, though he had found out that her name was Ann, and she was Unovan. "I hope you'll come back soon, and get a Rockruff puppy of your own. They really are the best Pokémon," she said with a grin.

Brock grinned back. "There's no way I won't want a Rockruff, after what I've seen today. And the same goes for you—the Pewter Gym will welcome you anytime. When Eijirou-kun is older, I'd be honoured to help him become a Pokémon trainer, if that's what he wants."

Ann took his hand in both of hers, another overly-tactile Unovan gesture. "You're too kind. We may take you up on that offer—Eijirou's father was a trainer, and it's all our boy has wanted since we told him. We want that life for him, as well—it's important to Maiko, for Eijirou to have some way to feel connected to Haku."

Brock hesitated, desperately curious but unwilling to cross any lines. Perhaps it was the fact that Ann was Unovan, and therefore less sensitive than the average Kantoan, that allowed his tongue to loosen. "May I ask ... what happened to Eijirou's father?"

Ann was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "It happens sometimes, right? As much as Pokémon are capable of deep love and loyalty, they are still wild creatures when they're out in the world. It happened in a split second in the mountains, too fast for his Pokémon or anyone else to react—one badly startled Geodude at the wrong time, a tackle to send Haku stumbling in the wrong place, and he was gone. One-hundred feet, straight down."

Oh, Arceus. Brock's heart hurt for this family, cobbled together with such pain and loss. And yet ... there was so much love, too. Love for Eijirou, love for all the Rockruffs, and passion for a lost man's dream made a reality.

He shook Ann's hand, initiating the contact himself for once. "Thank you for telling me. I will be in contact to discuss ways the Pewter Gym can help support your ranch. And I'll be back in person again soon, count on it!" With another heartfelt goodbye, Brock and Onix made their way back through the newly-christened Rocktown and to Rock Tunnel, intending to make it back to Pewter City by nightfall.

It was a different world these days. But Brock couldn't help but think that the differences were all for the better.

[kda-chat]

what if k/da was camping?

Kai'sa: I bought us an INSTA tent where all you have to do is PROP IT UP, that's all. Yet somehow, IT'S BROKEN! How? This fucking tent is literally the easiest fucking tent to build and yet you two fucking broke it.

Evelynn: Ahri broke it.

Ahri: Eve broke it.

Kai'sa: YOU BOTH BROKE IT.

Akali: I want s'mores.

Kai'sa: Did I not ask you to get firewood?

Akali: I did!

Sivir: You got us wet twigs...

Akali: Was I not suppose to?

Sivir: WET FUCKING STICKS, AKALI! FIRE AND WATER DON'T MIX! YOUR NINJUTSU ASS SHOULD KNOW THAT!

Akali: Oh shut up, you fucking got poison ivy on you. Didn't you say you went camping before?

Sivir: In the desert! Not in this fucking forest!

Evelynn: Akali, come here. I want to have sex outdoors.

Akali: Okie.

Kai'sa: YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE?!

Evelynn, dissipating with Akali: Bye, smooches!

Kai'sa:...

Sivir:...

Ahri: So...are we making s'mores?