#then i drink 2-3 beers and wake up like i was hit by a monster truck ??

[lunasilvis]

I'm drunk off Belgian beers again

[lobster-tales]

Falling Back in Love With You

Summary: Link wakes up in a strange house, with no memory of the night before. After crawling out of the bathtub with a pounding headache, Zelda calls. She tells him that he needs to gather their friends for an important sports club meeting, and that they only have an hour. As he retrieves each of the athletes, his memories slowly return, and so do his feelings for one of his teammates. Basically BOTW but it’s a college AU. Alcohol CW

This work is available here on AO3. 

Chapter 1: Rhoam Residence 

An electric darkness pierced the sky. Mechanical monsters crawled over the ruined walls, their bodies scraping against stone. Voices called, thick with fear and import. He grasped at the words helplessly, knowing their meaning would be lost when he regained consciousness.

Link woke to the flutter of piano notes. He shifted slightly, his body protesting against the hard surface beneath it. His confused fingers searched for blankets, but instead found cold walls. Link opened his eyes, gazing up at the shower head and popcorn ceiling. 

 A husky groan tore through his throat, betraying his pain before he even recognized it. His head pounded as he looked around the cluttered room, reading the clues in a haze: a crumpled bath mat, a splatter of bile on the toilet seat, empty beer cans scattered on the tile. The piano melody resumed, and he discovered that the sound came from the sink, where a phone teetered precariously. Link touched the blinking ‘snooze’ button on the screen, flipping it over to look at the intricate eye pattern on the black case. 

Once the alarm disappeared, the phone lit up with notifications. He read silently, 16 missed texts from Zelda, 7 missed calls from Zelda, 3 missed-

The screen went black. Link panicked for a moment before an image of a dying battery appeared. He huffed quietly, stuffing the phone into the pocket of his blue jeans. He crawled out of the tub and stood in front of the mirror, piecing his appearance together. Dark circles formed under his eyes, his blond hair messy but contained in his usual low ponytail. He was shirtless save for a stained blue towel that crossed his chest. His arms were bruised, his feet bare, and… Link frowned and leaned forward, brushing a finger against his lips. Is that… lip gloss?

His stomach lurched, then emptied itself into the porcelain toilet. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Link collapsed on the bath mat, his back pressed against the tub. 

His thoughts swam, sludging through the fog in his mind. They formed into loose questions: Where am I? How did I get here? What happened last night? All of them were quelled when a burning sensation hit his throat. 

Link twisted the cold-water knob and stuck his head under the sink faucet. He drank deeply, easing the thirst. 

“Oh hey, you’re awake.”

Startled, Link bumped his nose on the faucet. A man stood at the door, with a thick beard and curious eyes. 

“You know, kid,” the man said. “She left you a water cup. You don’t have to drink straight from the tap.”

At that moment, Link noticed the large plastic cup on the counter, having overlooked it amongst the mess. 

“Man, you kids really know how to party.” the man chuckled, crossing his arms. “I remember those days. How’s your head?”

Link hesitated, unsure how to answer. 

“What’s the matter? That bad?”

Link shook his head, pointing to himself, then closing his hand into a fist with his thumb at the side. He brought his knuckles to his lips. 

“Oh. Right,” the man said, one hand easing behind his neck in embarrassment. “She mentioned you didn’t…” He cleared his throat. “Either case, I uh… Sorry, but I don’t understand sign language as well as my daughter.”

Thus far, Link hadn’t identified the man or his surroundings, but he tilted his head and threaded his eyebrows as if the movement would magically offer an explanation. 

“I’m Zelda’s father,” the man said. “You can call me Dean Rhoam-” His muscles seized up and a grimace clouded his features, but in seconds he was composed once more. The quick recovery seemed oddly familiar to Link. He sensed that he had watched someone else hide their feelings in the same way, many times before. 

“Actually, um… just Rhoam now. I used to be the Dean until Ganon… Well anyway, you may have seen me-”

Link’s stomach snarled, interrupting Rhoam, and he looked at his host apologetically. 

Rhoam grinned. “Let’s get some food in you.”

Breakfast was baked apples and coffee. Rhoam also handed Link a spare flannel shirt, gingerly taking the stained blue towel to the laundry room. Refueled, Link focused on his surroundings, exploring the house while Rhoam’s voice echoed down the hall.

“I didn’t hear either of you come in last night. Just found Zelda in the kitchen a few hours ago. Said you had been out drinking last night, she brought you here, then you fell asleep in the bathtub.”

Link felt his cheeks grow warm, facing away from Rhoam to examine a set of family portraits. One of the photographs was a young girl, freshly graduated from high school. Her blonde hair was long but neatly kept, eyes glinting with that same inquisitive look as her father. 

Of course, he thought. How could I forget her? 

Now the memories came back, taking shape. Zelda. His best friend. 

“Yeah, she was in a hell of a mood when she left this morning,” said Rhoam. “No clue where she was going so early on a Saturday. Before she went out, she said, ‘Make sure Link checks his phone.’”

Uh oh. Link pulled the device from his pocket, frowning as he looked around for a charger. Rhoam silently pointed to a cord beside the coffee maker. 

Link hovered over his phone, watching the screen flash in a lightning pattern. After a few moments, his home screen reappeared, along with 18 missed texts from Zelda, 8 missed calls from Zelda, 5 voicemails from Zelda. 

He winced and went first to the voicemails, careful not to budge the charger as he held the phone to his ear. 

“Link!” her voice rang out so loud that even Rhoam jumped. Link pictured her, still graceful even when she was furious. “Ugh, why aren’t you awake yet?! I need you to call me back as soon as you get this.” Desperation seeped into her tone. “I know you don’t like talking on the phone but it’ll be faster. We’re running out of time; please hurry!”

  Within seconds, she answered his call. 

“Finally! Just in time,” she said breathlessly. “Listen, you remember the sport club budget proposal we were supposed to bring to the dean on Monday?”

Nope. Zelda didn’t wait for an answer. 

“Well, Dean Ganon changed the date at the last minute.” The anger crept back in. “He sent an email at 2:00 in the bloody morning, saying he can only meet today. I barely finished the proposal this morning; I’m going to present in a few minutes. But in order to pass it, we need five sport club representatives to vote. That’s where you come in.

“I have you for the fencing club, Mipha for swimming, Revali for archery, Urbosa for volleyball, and Daruk for wrestling. But if they were half as drunk as you were last night, who knows if they’re awake. I already asked my dad and he said you could borrow the van to pick everyone up. Start with Mipha; she gets off work at the rec center at 11:00.”

She paused here, growling softly, “I should have known Ganon was going to do something like this, the cheapskate… If Hyrule University doesn’t accept this budget proposal, he could cut most of our funding. No new equipment, no trips, no tournaments…” Zelda took a deep breath, calming herself. “The meeting ends at noon; they’ll do the vote last. Please, Link, get all four of them here before the hour ends. I’ll stall in the meantime. I’m counting on you.”

Link held the phone to his ear for a few more moments after she hung up. Slowly, he lowered the device to look at the time: 10:45 AM. 

[purplerayne17]

Can’t Dance-BKDK

Katsuki, 25-year old chemical engineer, has begun dating one of the analysts that works in his building. They guy was a total nerd, but he was perfect for Katsuki: hot, smart, adorable—not that he’d admit this just yet.

On one of their last dates, Deku—Izuku—the emerald-eyed cutie—admitted they had gone to the same high school—Katsuki was mortified! How had he never noticed?

Deku said it was fine, that he had kept a low profile on purpose to be able to focus on his studies. He said that the only time he actually went out was to meet his friends, whom Katsuki was meeting today.

Katsuki was not nervous, not one bit. He was awesome, no doubt about it, but this was important to the nerd, so he’d try to be—ugh—pleasant.  He wondered what sort of friends the nerd had to have him meet them at a dance club—this didn’t seem like the nerd’s scene. Luckily, Deku had thought of their friend groups as a whole meeting, so his idiots would serve as buffer.

“Hey, you made it! The guys are inside already!” Deku chirped as he jogged to reach him.

“Hah? You think I’d ditch you?!” He answered on instinct, but the moment his eyes fell upon the greenette all was lost. He felt the air leave his lungs, as he took in the white sneakers he had gotten the man; skin-tight, ripped black jeans;  the almost see through white shirt and black jacket with bunched up sleeves to reveal the muscular forearms... Bakugo Katsuki was suddenly very thirsty and the smirk on his lover’s face let him know this was evident.

Leaning in for a hug, the cheeky shit asked, “Like what you see, Kacchan?” Letting a warm breath fan over Katsuki’s ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps on its wake.

He hugged back and his brain decided to work again and managed to say something halfway smooth. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

The nerd stepped back, taking him by the hand to lead him inside and giggled. “Good. I can’t be the only one restraining myself here.”

‘Who is this confident fucker?!' Izuku Midoriya was usually shy and cute in public, an adorable mumbling mess. Sure, he was a dominant monster in bed, but never in public. Katsuki should have seen this as a red flag as to what was to happen inside, but at the moment, he was too turned on to care.

_______________________________________________________________

The club was packed and Katsuki could already feel his shoulders tense—he’d never liked crowded places, too much could go wrong. However, it seemed the nerd had planned for everything because he had rented a private area on the second floor for their “squads”, as they called themselves.

As soon as they walked past the entrance, Katsuki’s red-headed best friend, Eijirou, spotted them and ran over to wrap them in a bone-crushing hug. “Bakubro, you made it! Mido-bro, thanks for getting him to come out today!”

Izuku beamed at the small praise and went over to the table to join the rest of their friends. Katsuki, reminding himself not to cause a bad impression, suppressed the urge to make a scene, pocketed his hands, and went to sit beside Izuku, draping his arm casually over his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“So, guys, this is Kacchan! Kacchan, this is Shouto, Ochako, Shinsou, and Iida.”

“’m only Kacchan to you, Nerd,” Katsuki said, turning them to the others and giving a sharp nod to acknowledge them. “Name’s Katsuki Bakugo. Nice to meet you.”

His own friends gawked openly, “Dude, did you hear-?” “Did he just say-?” “Midoriya, you broke him!” “Bro, was nice!”

Izuku snorted and took a swig of his beer while his nerdy friends laughed and expressed their pleasure in meeting him too.

Katsuki wanted to throttle his so-called squad. Couldn’t they just be normal for once?! He almost, almost let out a whine at this. This night was going to be terrible. He needed a drink, so he snatched the bottle from his boyfriend’s hand and gulped what was left of it.

His displeasure must have been evident, because a short-haired brunette, Round Cheeks—yes, he already forgot her name—put a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry; Izu already told us you’re a little rough. As long as you make him happy, you don’t have to worry about faking it.”

He wasn’t sure if to feel relieved or threatened by that, but Izuku had his hand on Katsuki’s thigh and his thought process became compromised once more.

The group was hitting it off—they were one their fifth round of shots, they had no choice but to hit it off at this point—and some were starting to drift off into the dance floor. 

Mina had already dragged Kirishima two songs ago, Sero went for the bold move of asking Iida—apparently he has a robot or a daddy kink— who also dragged Ochako along; and Denki, being Denki, was starting to pull both Shinso and Shouto into the dancefloor when all of the sudden, the song changed, and Izuku’s eyes lit up.

Panic surged through Katsuki’s body. He’d told the nerd he went to parties all the time in high school and college; it was part of the jock’s image after all, but he had conveniently left off the part that he NEVER danced.

Before he could react, Izuku grabbed him by the hand and began to guide him down the stairs, but Katsuki, in a last-ditch effort, pulled back and kissed deeply Izuku, grazing the other’s bottom lip to request access, hoping to distract him.

Izuku of course was smarter and lovingly pulled away, tracing along the blonde’s features with his thumb.

“What’s wrong, Kacchan?”

Katsuki felt himself flush, giving a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck, completely avoiding the greenette's gaze. This was so embarrassing! “Oh, um, I can’t dance” Better to admit it and avoid suffering.

But of course, being the sunshine that he is, Izuku smile broadly and took his hand once more. “Oh, is that all? And here I was, getting worried.”

Due to his current confusion because: 1. His boyfriend was overly confident in public; that had never really happened. 2. He was not deterred by Katsuki saying he couldn’t dance, and 3. Those pants on Deku left nothing to the imagination; Katsuki let himself be dragged to the dancefloor without much fuss.

Once there, Deku grabbed both of his hands and said, “Even if you can’t dance, just hold my hips while I roll them” and as he said it, he turned around and ground to the beat, the greenette’s plump ass grazing his crotch, that had Katsuki on the verge of a heart attack. All he could do was swallow and nod.

As the song continued, Deku brought a hand to caress Katsuki’s face and told him, “Relax, babe. I won’t mind as long as you don’t stop.”

With a wink, Deku turned around and continued to dance. Katsuki was awestruck at the man before him, dancing with a confidence that just added to his usual radiance. The shock at this revelation was so much, he whispered “What the fuck?”

“Oh, come on Kacchan! Don’t just stand and watch; follow me!”

And ladies and gentlemen, Katsuki tried, but he was fucking stiff.

He was usually a cocky, over-the-top competitor type, but this was just too much. Deku noticed the nerves though and brought him close, as the song shifted to something slower. With a sultry tone, he breathed, “Being all anxious won’t do you any good, cause I don’t have any plans of stopping.” Then he bit his lip in contemplation, and nodded, making a decision Katsuki was completely alien to, while he brought them chest to chest, stealing a mind-numbing kiss.

“You just gotta move in my direction; I’ll teach you.”

In the background, he could hear his friends hollerin’ and calling his name. But he drowned them out, because who the fuck can keep a straight train of thought—no pun intended—when Deku is dropping and twerking like it’s nothing?!

After two songs, Katsuki had had enough. He dragged Deku to the bathroom and locked the door.

“What the fuck, Deku?!”

Izuku eyed him with nervous eyes, searching for answers, freaking out because he had no idea what had enraged his boyfriend.

“What did I do, Kacchan?”

“You’re a nerd! We’ve never been partying, and you said you only went out to meet your friends during high school and college. Why the fuck can you dance like that?!”

At this point, Katsuki was clearly frustrated and confused. Now he can admit his words didn’t make much sense, but he was caught off guard at the moment; can’t really blame a guy.

Izuku’s big emerald eyes widened and then something clicked. He doubled over laughing, only increasing Katsuki’s frustrations.

“What the hell nerd, just answer me!”

Gasping for breaths between his laughter, he attempted to calm the blonde. “Oh, oh Kacchan is that-is that what was worrying you?” Another wave of laughter.

“Are you making fun of me? Izu, I thought you trusted me, but you’ve been lying to me!”

“No, no, no! Kacchan, I haven’t lied at all. I did only go out to meet my friends, but it was to a dance class! I could’ve sworn I told you about it on our second date.”

“Oh...”

/Oh/

Their second date was the time they went to the amusement park; the first time they made out. No wonder he didn’t remember! There were more pressing, memorable, matters at hand, after all.

Then, it was like Izuku had flipped a switch. He got closer and wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s neck, bringing their lips together briefly, before nipping along the blonde’s jaw and neck, making him bite back a moan. With an almost animalistic growl, Deku whispered into Katsuki’s ear as his hands made their way down the engineer’s body.

“Why? Were you a little jealous, or just upset I haven’t shown you everything I can do?”

Katsuki snapped, caging the greenette against the wall, he bit playfully at the other’s shoulder and asked, “Oh, is that so? Care to show me what you’ve been holding back, Deku?”

“Gladly.”

But just as he smashed their lips together, the door swung open, startling them and making them scramble to cover their evident arousal.

“What the fuck Pikachu?!” Bakugo seethed.

‘Damn it! So close!’

Denki rushed into a stall, apologizing when he was already inside. “Sorry Bakubro, can’t hold it in!”

“I thought you’d closed it!” Izuku looked at him with panic in his eyes, hands still smoothing over the dark jeans to put everything back in its place.

Katsuki, still fuming at the interruption, hissed, “I did!” Looking towards the stall and wondering how the hell the other blonde had broken through.

Draping a hand around his boyfriend’s shoulders, moment clearly gone, he began to chuckle at Izuku’s embarrassment as he led him back to their area. 

That reaction was more like the nerd he knew. Although confident dancer Izuku had him with a constant hard-on, he has to admit he loved how cute his boyfriend could be when he was flustered. His sexy-ass moves would have to wait until they got back to one of their apartments, but that night was one he’d never forget.

END

Just having a day where I couldn’t get this song out of my head xD (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNZrc_XvF30)

Now on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/29592402 

[isawrightless]

I’ll Drown When I See You

Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira After escaping Raccoon City, Carlos offers Jill some shelter.

set directly after the events of resident evil 3. Rating: M -----

Finding herself homeless and directionless after Raccoon City’s destruction, Jill kept clinging to the only real leads she had: Chris was somewhere in Europe, and Barry was helping from the background, prioritizing the safety of his family. She’d be meeting them soon. But she was tired and hurt. There was not a part of her that didn’t ache, mentally or physically, and for now she needed a place to rest.

Checking in at a hotel proved itself to be a difficult task. For all she’d been through, all the tragedy she had endured, Jill Valentine couldn’t stand the glare and the whispering about her reasons and the state of her body; Why does she have so many bruises? Why is she limping? Is she on the run from something? Is it even safe to be here? Did she come from Raccoon City?

Those questions lingered on the eyes of anyone who even glimpsed at her. Sure, the blood and dirt were gone and the clothes were new (she’d made good on the promise of burning the old ones), but the situation remained the same. She had just escaped from a city that had been wiped out from existence and her own figure was a walking reminder of that.

Then Carlos; sweet, compassionate Carlos, all battered and bruised too, offered shelter. Asked Jill to stay with him in this small rented cabin he’d found.

And now here they are.

She’s not allowed to worry about anything else besides her own healing, that’s the deal. When the topic of buying new clothes and some other necessesities comes up, Jill’s adamant that she’ll buy them herself with whatever money she still has stored somewhere but Carlos stands his ground. She’s his guest, after all. And he’s taking the couch, no problem, she gets the bed. She needs it more.

When she tries to reason with him that she doesn’t mind the couch, it falls on deaf ears.

“Don’t worry, Supercop,” he says. “Just take it easy.”

And she does. Or at least tries to. The second her head hits the pillow, she can’t close her eyes. Whenever she does, that thing shows up, or the corpse of another teammate. Joseph always makes a guest appearence in her dreams. The first real death she’d witnessed at the start of this entire nightmare. He always stands there, half-eaten, limbs missing, speaking through a hole in his face, asking her not to leave him there. It’s cold. It’s cold and he’s alone. And she wants to scream, to tell him she did try to save him, she tried to save everyone, she really did.

She always wakes up before she can hear an answer and spends the rest of the day haunted and frustrated.

Which is why she’s more than confused when she sits up on the bed, sweaty amd startled, looks out the window and finds out it’s night time. A glance on the clock tells her it’s 22:00 PM.

She doesn’t feel rested at all.

Spotting a bag near the end of the bed, she leans over and brings it to her lap, looks inside to find some toothpaste, a toothbrush, soap and a body moisturiser. A couple of other bags are neatly placed on the floor, next to the bed. Inside them, she finds tank tops and t-shirts, two pairs of sweatpants, shorts and brand new underwear. It makes her smile, her first moment of true relief afer all that hell. But the thought of Carlos trying to guess and pick which kind of underwear she’d like is almost too cute.

On the nightstand there’s a water bottle that she opens and drinks in small sips even though what she wants is to drink it all in one go to quench her thrist. When she’s done, her lips feel softer, something she appreciates immensily. Ignoring the aching muscles, she picks some of her new clothes (a pair of sweatpants, the tank top and her brand new cotton panties), stands up on unsteady feet, takes a few steps foward and realizes she needs to brace herself against the wall to get some support.

Heading to the bathroom, she refuses to look at herself in the mirror while setting the clothes she’s going to wear on top of the sink. Undressing, she holds herself when a chill runs down her spine. It’s fine. A false pretense, perhaps, but it’s fine, it’s a worthy delusion. Let her drown in it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine.

Starting the shower, she rests against the tile wall as she waits for the water to get warm. The cold tile against her skin makes her gasp in surprise. She stretches a hand out to check the water’s temperature and then steps right in.

She can barely move her arms without feeling them burn, but she scrubs her body and washes her hair until her skin is red and her scalp hurts. Something needs to be done, something needs to happen, but her chest feels broken and she’s got no home, no plan, no instructions to follow now. Only ghosts that haunt her at every corner.

Calling her out.

Daring her to go on living while they remain dead and frozen in time, wiped out from existence as if they never even mattered in the first place.

As the water runs down her body, she realizes the extent of her injuries. Her right shoulder is bruised, left arm stinging as the soap clings to that wound, her thighs are purple and yellow on different places, and if she squints she can almost pretend they’re something pretty and delicate, like little glaxies on her skin.

There’s a cut and a bruise just above her hip that probably need more attention than she’s currently showing.

She stands under the showerhead for a while, letting the hot water hit the back of her neck, easing her strain. The urge to cry is strong, eyes already rimmed with tears, but she’s way too stubborn to let them fall. Not the smartest choice considering all the words she refuses to say out loud are choking her, chest tight with agony as she swallows back a sob.

She’d give anything to disappear right now.

Taking a deep breath, she finds the courage to cut off the water and step out of the shower. She dries herself with a towel, biting her bottom lip to keep the discomfort that raising her arms brings, and puts on her new clothes, feeling at least a little bit refreshed. She brushes her teeth with her brand new toothbrush and when she’s done, she stares at object for a moment.

He’s thought of everything.

Back into the bedroom, she can hear him pacing around the main room, and she  tries to prepare herself to go meet him. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous or why her heart is beating a little faster and she refuses to think too much on it.

But that’s Day 1.

Day 2 is quiet.

She’s siting on a worn out couch, body finally giving in to all the injuries it sustainted just a few days ago and it’s hard to move. Her arms feel like they’re about to fall off and she’s sore all over. Some wounds are still tender, and speech doesn’t come easily without the presence of a headache.

Carlos goes out again, brings her painkillers, helps her chase them down with a glass of water. She smiles at him because she can see how worried he is, can even guess what he’s thinking.

Maybe the vaccine didn’t work.

“Do you wanna watch TV?” he asks, voice giving him away. “The reception is, uh, pretty bad but there’s gotta be something good to watch.”

She shakes her head no, still eyeying him like a hawk, and he moves back to sit next to her. “You hungry then?”

“Not at all,” she manages to say.

“You sure? I don’t mean to brag but I’m a great cook.”

“You are?”

“Best one around.”

“Hit the jackpot then.”

It takes a second for her words to sink in and when they do, Carlos gives a boyish smile and says, “That’s my line.”

She tries to laugh and move but that ache pulls at her strings once again, making her flinch. He draws her closer to him, and she lets him.

They fall into a  routine by day 4.

Carlos cooks for them and does some errands and no matter how much Jill protests, she’s told she needs to stay still and heal. She does point out how flawed that train of thought it considering he went through hell too but he always ends up making an excuse.

To say that her heart is free from all that agony from before would be a lie but by now the only thing that truly bothers her-physically- is her left arm. It aches from time to time, a jolt of pain that stings and keeps her awake at night, completely alert, a reminder of what could have been.

She looks at the wound that monster left her, a little gift, exames it again and again, and it’s closed and healing but the pain is still there and Jill knows, she knows that it will never go away.

Carlos comes back that day with some new blankets (the ones at the cabin are simply awful and prickly) and some pepperoni pizza.

This sort of domestic bliss, where they function on pretending the outside world doesn’t exist and they won’t have to figure out what to do about all they’ve been through carries on through day 5 to 6.

On day 7, Jill gets out of the shower, puts on a t-shirt (blue, as Carlos assumed that’s her favorite color), a pair of panties and some shorts and heads to the kitchen to help with dinner.

He smiles when he sees her, a beer in hand, and jokes he’s got a great taste for clothes.

Perhaps it’s the sense of peace that has fallen over them, even if temporary, or maybe it’s just the carefree way he makes her feel, but Jill sticks her tongue out, steals his beer, takes a sip and smirks at him.

She expects some teasing, some kind of silly payback. Instead, he steps closer, leans in and kisses her. Just like that; no warning, no nothing, as if the two of them have been doing this forever, like it’s a habit they’ll never grow out of. And she responds eagerly, kissing back, arms going around his neck when he deepens the kiss, his tongue on hers, hands firmly placed on her hips, holding her steady, afraid she might slip away.

The tenderness is almost alarming. He’s taking his time, enjoying every sensation and she can’t help but press against him. He gets the hint, smiling in the middle of the kiss, sliding his hands down her body, grabbing her ass and squeezing, drawing a moan out of her. She steps back to catch her breath, already missing him. He brings a hand up to cup her face, thumb swiping across her bottom lip as he rests his forehead on hers, staring right into her bright blue eyes.

There’s another kiss before he drags his mouth away to focus on her neck, gently biting and sucking, leaving his mark on her soft flesh. She gives in to him so easily, mind racing with need. Reaching down she tries to unbuckle his belt but the action proves to be a bit too much for her sore shoulder and she ends up hissing in pain, wincing as the burning sensation flares up then goes all the way down to her hand. The wound on her left arm stings like crazy, and she tries not to think too much about it, despite the ache.

There’s no running from Carlos’ sweetness, though, and he stops everything he’s doing, stepping back to look at her. She can feel a slight blush sweeping across her face and she hates it.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says.

The last thing she wants is to ruin the mood, especially when he’s got her all worked up already and she’s been waiting for this, been needing this for a while. Carlos shakes his head, “So stubborn,” he breathes out before picking her up. She doesn’t really know his plan, but she hooks her right arm around his neck as he takes her to the bedroom. His scent is intoxicating and by the time he gets her inside the room letting go of him seems like the hardest thing in the world. But then he sets her down on the bed, all handsome and sweet, shaggy hair all over his face, that crooked smile still plastered on his lips and she can hardly wait for what’s to come.

Sitting up, she adjusts herself a bit and watches as he takes off his black t-shirt, takes a second to admire his hairy chest and toned abdomen and then goes back to watching, biting her bottom lip while he unbuckles his belt, kicks his shoes and socks off before climbing on top of her, diving back in for her lips, hands working on taking off her t-shirt, helping her out of the sleeves. He discards the piece of clothing by throwing it across the room and draws back to take a good look at her. She’s at his mercy, breasts exposed, nipples hard, scars spread across her skin; some are rather large and faded, gifts from that cold, horrible mansion; some are new, pearly white and glistening around bruises and light scratches still lost in the process of healing. And she’s beautiful.

“Oh, c'mon,” Carlos starts, licking his bottom lip. He leans down, right hand fixing up a few strands of her hair. “You can’t be real.”

Jill chooses to hide how much his words mean to her in a small smile and a scoff; she was never one to open up properly and she’s not about to list all the reasons why she has been avoiding looking in the mirror, at least not now. Thankfully, Carlos goes back to kissing her and that suits her just fine.

She trails a hand down his torso before reaching his unbuckled belt and then going further, palming him through his pants. He’s hard and she’s soaking wet and anxious and the little grunt he lets out in her ear doesn’t help things. All hope of self control goes out the window the second he kisses his way down to her breasts, bringing a hand to cup one of them while his mouth works on the other one, the tip of his tongue circling a nipple before sucking on it, making her arch her back and moan. He steals a quick glance at her, wishing he could frame the moment forever, as cliche and cheesy as that sounds. But she’s gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous, and to have her unguarded like this, for him, it sends him into a state of euphoria that he can’t quite explain.

He alternates between one breast and the other, enjoying her gasps and moans and by the time he’s done, when he comes back up for a kiss, her breasts are glistening with saliva, a slight flush covering them. His actions serve only to encourage her, demolishing any kind of hesitation or worry. She wastes no time unzipping his pants as he kisses her long and good, reaching inside his boxers to pull his cock out, holding it in her hands firmly; he is big and thick, smooth, veiny and throbbing, precome trickling down his length, and she starts stroking him slowly, up and down, pressing right against that sweet, sensitive spot under the head of his cock with each upstroke. He groans, mouth open against hers, closes his eyes and lets himself fall into her touch, hips thrusting into her hand, trying to set his own rhythm, showing her how he likes it.

Jill doesn’t see or hear anything that isn’t him. It’s impossible to think of anything else when he’s so handsome, throwing his head back and moaning only to stare at her with those kind eyes of his. She thinks she could stay like this for a long while, just watching him, her hand wrapped around his cock, feeling him hot and twitching, begging for something else.

He doesn’t give time for her to improvise though. Panting, he grabs her wrist, ceasing her movements. Grinning, he leans back, hands sliding up and down her legs until he hooks his fingers on the waistband of her shorts and pulls them down along with her panties. She can’t help the small smirk as she lifts her hips and bends her knees to help him take them off.

He’s stealing kisses, dragging his mouth down her body, marking her here and there, being careful around the bruises, fighting the need to just have her every time she lets out a shaky breath. He grabs one of her thighs with his right hand, the other one staying firmly on her hip, his mouth not once leaving her skin, and she gets the hint, spreads her legs to accomodate him further. That’s when he glances at her, finds her staring down at him, her short hair framing her face, and he almost loses it. But he carries down with his mouth, teasing and kissing her inner thighs, his beard tickling her, soft licks against her skin, breath ghosting over the spot between her legs until she gasps out his name.

And then there’s this moment, a fraction of time in which he realizes that this is happening, this is really happening and she wants him, too, she wants him and she’s waiting and so he runs his tongue along her slit, feels proud when her hands goes on on top of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. He licks her slowly, explores every inch, every fold, wants to taste every bit of her.

When she moans he changes the pace, teases, circles her entrance with the tip of his tongue, presses it flat against her and licks like a hungry, needy man, eats her out nicely, takes his time. Then she begs, asks for more and he swirls his tongue around her clit one, two, three times, moves his head up and down, his nose adding a much needed friction and then he sucks on her clit, keeps going until she’s arching her back off the bed and grinding against his face. He follows her rhythm, the one she imposes, eyes closed, voice cracking.

“Carlos,” she says, sill holding on to his hair, desperately lifting her hips, rocking on his mouth. “I’m gonna come-” It’s the way her voice cracks at the end of the word ‘come’ that drives him insane, eager to taste more of her, to have her melting on his tongue.

He hums in response, increases the pressure and holds her tighter as she squirms and writhes, moans his name again and again until it turns into a soundless cry, until time stops and she tenses, comes on his tongue, muscles spasming and toes curling while he helps her ride out her orgasm. She tries to pull away, it’s too much, she’s too sensitive, but he can’t help himself, he wants just a bit more because maybe he’ll never have her like this again, maybe this is just a one time thing so he wants every drop of her, he wants to be a little selfish here, make sure this day will be burned in his brain forever; she’s honey scented, holy in every way, and so he gives her one final lick and stops when she starts shaking.

The sound of her breathing echoes through the room, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he backs away and looks up at her, a satisfied grin on his face when he sees the state she’s in. He’s got something to say, a little joke to make, but it fades to nothing the second she grabs his face in her hands and pulls him into a bruising kiss.

Too many things hide in that kiss, from little trinkents to precious jewels, that kiss changes everything the second she tastes herself on him, the second he grabs hold of her again and deepens said kiss, finds all those treasures hidden in each soft breath, and he feels her hands tugging at the waistband of his pants, “Take these off,” she says through gritted teeth and he does as he’s told, moves away from her for one second that feels like forever and slides out of his pants and boxers, cock twitching, missing her hand, wondering how her mouth would feel on him, knowing that there’s no way he can let her do that to him now otherwise he won’t last, he won’t last at all.

“Come here,” her voice is low and demanding in the softest way possible. He gets back on the bed, sits in front of her, kisses her again, and they stay like that for a while, just exploring each other’s mouths until she can’t help herself and grabs hold of him and he grunts in her mouth because he’s been hard for so long now, been needing her for so long, and watching her orgasm a few moments ago, knowing he provoked that almost made him burst right then and there, and now her hand is on him again and he can’t control himself.

“You’re the sweetest thing I have ever tasted,” he confesses, breathless, “Jill, you’re the sweetest fucking thing.”

And Jill nods, not really knowing how to respond to such a bold statement, her face flushed, she nods and flattens a hand against his chest and pushes him down on the mattress, straddles him and although her plan is clear, she winces and hisses in pain the second she tries to move her other arm and as much as she tries to play it off, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Carlos.

He’s quick to sit up, to cup her face, eyes scanning her frame. “You alright?” and his words are a bit rushed, stumbling in his own want and worry. “Wanna stop?”

“No, don’t even think about it,” she adds quickly.

“You sure?”

“Wait, I’m not Supercop anymore?” she says with a smirk. “I’m just a little sore.”

“Then let me take care of you,” he says, caressing her face, robbing her of a kiss. “If it’s still okay.”

The concern is endearing, the implication of his words even more so. “Of course it’s still okay.”

Another kiss, he lowers her onto the mattress, runs his hands up and down her body until he stops them at her bent knees. She spreads her legs for him again, and he’s so consumed by her he feels almost tipsy, everything goes hazy for a minute. He’s been hard and aching to the point of desperation even, but he swears, he does, that if she asked him to just go down on her again he would, oh god, he would, no doubt about it.

Except she’s waiting, the gleam in her blue eyes making him fall in love with her, because yes, that’s what he’s feeling, love. He’s known for days and she’s changed his entire life and he won’t stomach it when she leaves. She’s worked her way into his heart, growing around it like a vine and he doesn’t want her to let go.

“Carlos,” she whispers, but there’s urgency hiding behind her tone.

He grabs her legs, bringing her closer to him, holding his cock by the base then gently guiding himself inside her; just the tip first, to see her reaction, and then he moves an inch more and she bites her bottom lip again, looks down at him, expectation written across her face. Then he goes all in; she’s so wet, so ready, there’s no resistance. They both sigh in relief at the feeling, her little moan contrasting with his grunt, and she’s grateful for the time he gives her to get used to him; it’s been a while since she’s been with anyone but even then she had never felt as complete as she’s feeling right now.

He fits so perfectly, stretches her up good, and he’s looking at her as if she’s made of diamonds, searching for any sign on discomfort on her face and honestly, having someone care so much like this is bringing her to the edge of tears.

This is not a quick fuck. This is not a we made it out alive kind of celebration. There’s more here, there’s so much more, she can see it in his eyes.

He leans forward, his body covering hers as he props himself up with one arm on her side to keep from crushing her. Staring right into her eyes, he kisses her lips and starts moving. It’s a steady pace at first, as if he’s trying to understand her, trying to see what drives her crazy, what she likes.

Can he be rough?

Can he hold her a little tighter?

Those silent questions are answered when she urges him on, her hands on his shoulder, bringing him down on her so her breasts are flush against his chest and his face is an inch away from hers. He kisses her when he starts moving, feels her breaking into a moan but then respond, moving her hips in accordance to his, but even so she’s letting him lead; he’s the one in control this time around.

So he thrusts slowly, long strokes that make her want to just push him down again and ride him because she thinks he might have made her a little insane here, a little too obsessed. She watches him, his handsome face and its perfect features, then darts her glance down to where they’re both connected, sees him move, sees and feels him pullig back until just the head of his cock is inside, and then he slides in again, repeats the motion again and again until she can’t take it anymore, wraps her legs around his waist and says, “Faster.”

“Yeah?” he asks, still set on that same rhythm, looking for permission, focusing his gaze for one instance at a huge bruise near her hip.

“Please,” she begs in the middle of a kiss. “Please.”

He increases the pace gradually, watches the changes on her face, and when she throws her arms around his neck (all the flinching and wincing still there but to hell with them to hell with them, this means so much more), he finally lets go. His thrusts grow harder and faster, so much so that he accidently slips out, and when that happens he drives her mad by grabbing his cock and rubbing it on her clit for a few seconds, a small tease that earns him some more pretty little moans, his name spilling out of her lips like sugar.

He’s in trouble, he concludes, he’s in trouble. This woman may as well be his everything.

He will drown himself in her if she asks him to.

Lodge himself into her bones.

Never let her go.

If she wants him as much as he wants her.

(and he hopes she does he hopes she does)

When he thrusts back into her, he wastes no time, no more teasing, he moves, feels her nails digging into his flesh, little red moons forming all over his skin, she’s clenching around him and he’s pounding into her so fast and hard the slap from skin against skin is loud enough to reverberate on the walls. Throught it all, he doesn’t break eye contact, no, looks at her as if she’s meant to be worshipped.

Jill is lost in a trance, feeling his cock in and out of her, he’s so big and hard, he’s so perfect, so good, she could stay like this forever and then he hits that spot, that little spot and she clenchs around him and moans, which in turn makes him groan. “Right there,” she says, “Right there, don’t stop, please, just like that.”

Carlos nods, he’s mesmerized, trying to hold back his own release, showering her neck with kisses, licking the salt off of her skin, hips working nonstop. “Fuck,” he says, voice hoarse. “You feel so good. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

She clings to him as if her life depends on it (and god knows it did), she clings to him, their hearts beating in perfect synchrony.

This is meant to be, she thinks, this is meant to be.

His thrusts are even harder now, rocking them back and forth on the bed. He buries his head on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans. She gives up on trying to follow his rhythm, gives up completely, this is too good, too fucking good, she can only take it. She’s so close, he knows, she doesn’t even need to tell him with the way she tightening around his cock, the way her moans are turning into almost sobs, her shaky voice trying to utter a warning, one that he loves so much.

He keeps up the pace while sliding a hand down her body, finding her clit, still a little swollen and sensitive from his earlier ministrations. This time she does cry out, holding on to him. It’s overwhelming; she’s right at the edge and she doesn’t want it to end, fuck, don’t let this end.

He’s losing control, pumping into her, his warm breath on her skin, and when that wave hits her, when her face gets hot and her breathing heavy she asks for one thing, just one tiny thing. “Come with me,” she says. “Come with me, please, please, come with me.”

“Inside you?” and such simple question should sound a lot more like caution than it does in that moment. In that moment though, that simple question is about trust above anything else, and she nods, all desperate and pretty, she nods.

“Inside me,” she orders as he kisses her. “Inside me, it’s okay, fill me up, let me-” her voice breaks when he speeds up the pace. “Let me feel you, I need to feel you.”

He places a hand around her neck, doesn’t apply pressure, just keeps it there and stares at her and fucks her and kisses her and says “I’ll fill you up then, I’ll do it, you’ll be all mine, right, just mine?” he asks in between pants, voice rough and brash and still laced with adoration.

“Just yours.”

She means it.

He thrusts into her with hard, fast, long strokes, and she’s clenching around his thick cock, coming with such intensity that she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from truly screaming.

At the same time, his movements grow erratic, his grunts and groans a lot louder, and then he’s burying himself into her to the hilt and coming deep inside her, breathing so hard he feels like he might pass out.

She holds on to him as they both wait until they can breathe normally again, but he can’t resist kissing her, not when she’s giving him that look, not when he’s so scared of never seeing her again after this that he can feel his bones trembling. After a moment, when the world goes back to existing, he slips out of her and rolls to her side, brings her with him. She’s curled up around him like a cat, and he’s smiling, stroking her hair idly.

“You’re not in pain, are you?” he asks.

Shaking her head, she chuckles. “Sex is one hell of a drug, you know.”

“You’re one hell of a drug.”

“Oh god,” she laughs at the line.

“No, I’m serious. Got me screwed up for life here,” he admits. “Pretty sure I’m addicted.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Carlos is already cursing himself for ruining this. Too blunt. Too blunt and they don’t even know what they’re going to do tomorrow.

But then she looks up at him, and says: “For life is a big commitment.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a man of my word,” he says.

“That’s good to know,” she smiles at him, rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes.

Carlos wraps an arm around her then, holds her tight and close, the stupidest smile decorating his face.

And for the first time in months, Jill sleeps peacefully.

--- a/n: i’m rusty as hell but writing this brought me joy. i dedicate this to my lovely friend @passionedance because holy shit she put up with me gushing about these two a lot. <3 also, i hope everyone is okay and taking care of themselves. <3

[ifyoulovemeletmebinge]

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster. 

for @beingforcedtolivebadwriting

RATED M 

read it on ao3 here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dean Winchester knows he hates monsters.

That’s one thing. It’s almost the first thing. In almost every situation.

Dean wakes up and all he can think of is how much he hates monsters.

Some of it comes from the fact that John is a shitty dad and that’s not because of him being a shitty dad. Dean can’t remember much at all from his life before the fire, but from what John tells him, they were The Perfect American Family. He knows that at least.

He also knows that because monsters fucked that dynamic up for his family, he hates them unconditionally.

None of that has been truer than how he feels tonight. Tonight, his hands are still shifty on the wheel of the Impala, tonight his feet are still struggling to reach the brake pedal without stretching, and tonight the sky is pitch black and the air is warm and humid, and tonight he’s gonna kill some monsters.

Well. Maybe not.

John’s instructions were to stop by (by which he means break in) the morgue, take an extra look at the bodies, and identify any marks that stand out for a tell of what kind of son of a bitch they were dealing with.

John usually does this himself, but Dean thought it best to not bring up the fact that his dad needs to drink himself to blissful unconsciousness on the week of the anniversary of his dead wife. The case was bad timing, thus, Dean is the lucky pick to do the dirty work.

Not that he minds. This is something he wants to do. This is something he craves. Dean has been getting taller and bigger and stronger, and his hands have been itching more, and he can’t stop shifting his weight, and lately he feels like doing something that will fully transition him into the man he’s supposed to be. Except all he knows is John, and John is a hunter.

But Dean doesn’t mind. He’s good with a gun, and he’s a quick runner (he would have joined the track team if John had let them stay past Christmas break at his last school), and if that’s all he’s got, he’ll use it to do something. He’ll figure it out.

He’d way prefer to risk himself getting arrested, and going to juvie (again), than Sammy. Sammy, who’s back at the motel. Sammy who’s hopefully, peacefully sleeping. Sammy, who he hopes won’t be awake to see John come back from the bar. Dean intends to make it back before that. It’s only 11pm. He’s got time.

Dean parks the Impala (he only struggles for a few seconds with it, alright) a couple blocks down from the police station. His shoulders crowd up around his ears, cotton of his sweatshirt brushing his jaw, as he walks, as silent as he can, between the shadows of the decorative trees in this stupid suburb, to the back of the station.

He’s already scouted the place earlier in the day, so he knows which window leads to the desired formaldehyde smelling room. The station is only one story high, so he’s easily able to unlatch the outside lock with his pocket knife, and heave himself up. He shimmies himself in (fuck, that window’s tight) and ends up doing a supported handstand on the morgue floor. He throws his legs to the side--only hurting his ankles a little on the edge of the window--and then he’s finally got both his feet on the ground.

Dean stands up from his crouch, slowly. Then he scoffs to himself. Who the fuck is gonna hear him in here?

He moves closer to where the target is. There’s a sleek metal table in front of him, and yes, there’s a dead person on it, covered by a thin white sheet. Dean searches for gloves in the dark, because he’s a teenage boy but he’s not that gross, and he snaps them on, pulling back the sheet and averting his eyes from the corpse’s face. He goes straight to where the money is.

At the junction between the corpse’s shoulder and jaw, right in the middle of the neck, there’s a big bite. It’s not anything his dad has seen before, as he kept complaining so much since they found the case, and Dean has to swallow back bile at how ugly it looks. Black and protruded, half scaly-like, half-raw ripped skin, at least under the moonlight coming from the window. He should have brought a flashlight.

Dean is cataloging the patterns to draw for his dad later, tracing his fingers over the lines carefully, really feeling the texture and the way it’s swollen the skin. He thinks he imagines the sound at first.

Then he stops his hand, and he thinks again.

That’s definitely a sound. Like a real movement that wasn’t him, and it’s coming—it came at least—from the room right next door, the main storage for the other bodies. Dean turns his head to look at the door, and oh, would you look at that, it’s peeking open to more darkness on the other side. Where the sound came from. Except how is there a sound at a morgue in the dead of night?

Dean was not prepared for this. His heartbeat starts announcing itself in his ears, and he’s almost vibrating with fear. He thinks of his dad. What would John do at a time like this? Probably start shooting.

But Dean didn’t have a gun. Even if he did, it could just be the doctor, or a policeman staying after (they always got in his way), and he can’t go around shooting random people. It’s hard to explain to a dead person: “Hey! Sorry! Thought you were a monster! My bad!”

Then he remembers his pocket knife, whips it out, and holds it tight in his right fist. Dean starts walking towards the door, but he wants to knock the whole wall down and skeet the fuck out of there.

He holds his breath as he gently kicks the door with the tip of his boot (he figured out a way to make Sam convince John to get him new ones, and yeah, these loggers are pretty fucking cool), and then he’s in the room.

The first thing he notices when his eyes adjust to how dark it is in there (honestly, would it kill a monster to turn on a light?), is the two figures bent over what he assumes is another poor corpse being taken advantage of. He also hears… ew. Those are chomping and chewing noises. He never gets the clean ones.

Dean doesn’t know what to do! Does he shout? Scare them? Lunge at them? Anything he does next could be the last thing he does. Is he ready to die?

Luckily, Dean doesn’t have to decide his first move because the figures do it for him.

It happens too fast—and maybe he’s reading too many comics because his first thought is I wish I had super speed like Barry so I could gank these fuckers, except he doesn’t, so it��s fast.

He’s on his back in a blink. There’s a bony arm on his neck and another holding one of his wrists in a grip so tight Dean wants to make a eulogy for his circulation. There’s also a normal-ish weight on his hips and his stomach, which suddenly lurches because fuck. Fuck. The monster’s on him, he’s pinned. And for some reason he’s still alive.

Still. Fuck.

After a moment of heaving breathing from the guy on top of him, the figure lurking around, and his own wheezing lungs, Dean grunts out: “You guys gonna eat me or what?”

The guy above him doesn’t let up, but Dean does feel the other one walking around. Like the ground shakes with his every step as he comes closer to Dean’s ears near the floor.

“Personally,” says Figure 2 from way above him, and Dean feels disoriented at how far away his voice sounds, “I’m fairly content. My son here, however… well, he’s just famished.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the guy on him, trying to make out his features but it’s just too dark, and all he can feel is the terribly tight grip on his wrist, the way his forearm is crushing on his neck, and—hey. His pocket knife is still in his hand. His free hand, the one trapped under the small of his back, where he can feel the butt of the handle digging into his skin slightly.

“Go on, son.”

Figure 1, aka The Son, seems to be hesitating, and Dean doesn’t want to wait till he decides if he wants more salt on him or not before the meal, so he wriggles his hand out, and drives it across his body and downwards in a surprisingly strong stroke. He knows he hit something when the arms on top of him lift up entirely, and there’s a pained groan resounding amid the darkness.

He rolls on his side, scrambles up, and flies out of the room, back into the main morgue lab, through the door, down and down the long hallway, past the reception desk, and he’s out the main entrance, not caring one bit about the obnoxious ringing of the alarm behind him.

His calves are burning by the time he throws himself in the Impala, and he clumsily fishes out his dad’s keys, turning the car on. He drives 50 above the speed limit until he gets to the motel.

Dean tells John everything. He draws what he remembers with shaky hands. He neglects to mention how many of them there were.

<15 years later>

“And then, like a fucking Clint Eastwood movie, he comes back home--”

“You mean the motel?” Sam interrupts.

“Yeah, whatever. So he barges in the door--” Dean frames a rectangle with his hands “--silhouetted by the moonlight, and he tucks his gun in and he swings his dirty machete over his shoulder and he tilts his head and then he says: ‘Boy, pack your stuff. Our job here is done.’ I mean… it was fucking awesome,” Dean chuckles.

“I think your memory is unreliable.”

“Sam, you were dead to the world that night. On my bed, might I add, so you didn’t even see any of this. John kicked ass!”

Eileen’s smile is a little forced, and a little awkward, but Dean can’t blame her. His energy is hard to match when he’s a few beers in. Sam keeps eyeing her, like he's checking in on how she’s receiving this story about their dad. Like she would ever judge him for it.

“He sounds like a brave hunter,” she signs and says. Dean feels way too proud.

Sam tries and fails to keep the grimace off his face. “Yeah. Babe, is it late? We should…” he trails off, tilting his head in the direction of their bedrooms. Eileen nods in agreement, seeming relieved. She squeezes Dean’s hands as she leaves. Sam is standing now, and he waits until Eileen is gone to turn his bitchface on.

“Dean, please stop doing that.”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “Doing what?”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “Praising dad. I don’t know, sugarcoating him, painting him as the hero. You know damn well he wasn’t.”

Dean’s throat tightens. If that’s what Sam thinks he was doing, he really doesn’t know him at all. He's full of indignation when he answers: “That’s the last thing that I would do. I know firsthand, more than you, how shitty John was. Sam, I know. I was telling the story how I remembered it. ‘Cause back then? Yeah, he was my hero. I’m old enough to know better now, but--what the fuck do you care? You think I’m purposely lying to Eileen? For what?”

Sam can’t meet his eyes. “Dean, no that’s not what I-I just can’t hear that shit. It makes me… uncomfortable. I don’t wanna talk about dad like that anymore. I'd rather not talk about him at all, actually! I just… I can’t hear that shit from you.”

Dean balks, mouth open. He scoffs, “Fine.” He stands up and puts his jacket back on, checking his pockets for his keys and his wallet.

He’s halfway up the stairs when Sam calls from the library, “Dean, come on. Let’s talk about this. Or not! Dude, we just got back from a hunt, don’t leave. Let just-let’s forget about it, alright?”

Dean pauses at the railing. He turns around and shouts down at Sam: “Yeah, sure, Sammy! Let's forget our whole heritage. It never fucking mattered to you anyways.”

He’s slamming the door to the bunker closed behind him, and hopping in the Impala (which he didn’t have time to wash or put in the garage since their hunt), and then he’s off god knows where. He needs a drink.

Dean picks the fourth bar/restaurant place he sees. That seems like far enough away from his brother for now. It’s one he hasn’t gone to yet. Fun, new, and exciting!

He’s working on his third whiskey, maybe half an hour after he arrived, when the bartender puts down another glass in front of him.

Dean glances up. “Hey, um. I’m good for now, really.”

The bartender is tying his long cornrows in a ponytail on the back of his head, and when he meets Dean’s eyes, he gives him a shit-eating grin. He nods off to the side, “Courtesy of your secret admirer.” Then he winks at him and leaves for the kitchen behind him. Dean feels all warm inside at that, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it before a man sits down on the stool next to him, a non-respectable four inch distance away.

Dean is appalled before he takes in this dude, and okay. Not bad. Looks about the same age, dresses like a grandpa from the trenchcoat he sees, has spiky black hair that Dean might want to run his hands through, and shit, fuck, he’s looking at Dean, say something!

“Hello,” the man says and whoa, who died and made you Batman? His lips are plumper than a guy’s lips usually are (look who’s talking, Dean) and chapped and they’ve got a nice shape. Dean likes the cupid’s arch on his upper lip, it looks classy. His nose is pointy, and maybe a bit small, but damn if it doesn’t work well with his sharp cheekbones. By the time Dean can register his eyes, all his brain can think of is wow.

Dean’s never seen bluer eyes. They’re as clear as the sky, but Dean feels like he could drown in them. Or maybe that’s just the way this man is looking at him. Dean’s rarely been stared at with this much intensity, and he feels a blush spread to the tips of his hot ears.

He clears his throat. “Hi.” Dean has to look away now, back to his own glass before he combusts. He’s surprised a dude like him would buy him a drink.

Apparently, the man can’t sense how awkward and unprepared Dean was for this because he starts talking again, keeping his voice low so that only Dean can hear him, so it’s only a rumble in his chest. “I hope I’m not overstepping. You looked like you needed some company. Is that the kind you like to drink?”

Dean is so flustered at the sheer… whatever this dude has, he has to remind himself this is a normal human interaction. Be nice. Make eye contact.

“Yeah, it’s uh--it’s great. Thanks. For buying it. Um, I’m kinda driving tonight, though, so I might want to stop at this--” Dean raises his own drink in his hand “--You can-you want it? I'd be a waste otherwise.” He’s cringing so bad inside that his stomach hurts.

The man levels him a neutral stare. A few seconds later, he nods and reaches over to pick up the extra whiskey. Dean follows his hands and fuck they’re nice. He’s got long fingers, and for some reason the way his metacarpals shift under his skin is incredibly attractive.

The fun doesn’t stop there though, because then the guy is bringing the glass to his mouth, and he’s not taking his eyes off Dean’s own wide ones, and he’s taking a drink and it all looks sinful. The way his trachea shifts as he swallows, the opening and closing of his enticing jaw, and especially the way his pink tongue peeks out from his mouth to lick at the rim of the glass.

Dean swallows what feels like sandpaper.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, putting the glass down, holding it between his hands like he's bracketing it. He shifts his hands and the glass follows, rotating back and forth.

“Dean.”

Castiel nods, his lips quirk up a little, and this might be the first sort-of smile Dean has seen from him.

“Why’d you buy me a drink?” he blurts out.

The grin grows by a millimeter. “You looked like you needed one.”

Dean snorts. “That bad, huh?”

“Maybe that good.” Dean sees a peek of teeth from Castiel and he can’t help but shiver.

Dean recognizes it for what it is, so he turns on his own charm, slipping into familiar flirting territory.

“So what do you do, Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes flick to Dean’s mouth for the quickest moment, and then his mouth is a neutral plane again, smirk vanishing completely. He thinks for a few seconds. “I’m an accountant.”

Dean knows that could mean literally anything, except the guy is wearing a tie and there’s a trenchcoat, so yeah. He’s an accountant for real.

“Cool. Numbers, huh?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, like he’s squinting. Dean finds it both intimidating and endearing. “Yes. How about you, Dean?”

He blushes harder at hearing his name in that gravelly voice, but keeps his cool when he answers, rehearsed: “Odd jobs, here and there.”

Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “Fascinating.”

Dean blinks. Okay. “Is it?”

“Yes. You must travel a lot.”

“I do, yeah,” he nods, feeling a little vulnerable.

Castiel is back to staring at him intensely, and it makes Dean’s veins sizzle a little with want. They’re upgrading from Flirting/Small Talk Territory to Let’s Go Like Now Territory. Dean’s breathing comes a little deeper.

“Would you like to travel right now?”

“What?”

Castiel is definitely looking at his mouth. “Would you like to go outside?”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. This guy does not waste time. Not that he’s complaining, he’s been feeling hot all over since Castiel sat down, and he’d give himself at most another half an hour before he proposed they move this interaction somewhere else himself. So Dean downs the rest of his whiskey, feels the buzz in his ears and the tips of his fingers, and he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Castiel follows him outside.

The night is more humid than it should be for August, but Dean can feel the chill of Fall coming, and he’s grateful for his jacket. He’s shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he walks to the corner where the sidewall of the bar meets the front wall of it. He stops and leans one shoulder right at the edge of the wall to the side, facing the parking lot. Out of options for what to say, Dean waits until Castiel comes closer (his hands are in his trench coat pockets and it’s weirdly cute), and he points at his Baby, thirty feet away.

“That’s my car. She’s my Baby.”

Castiel stops two feet away from him, but right in front, and he turns his body to the side to follow where Dean’s finger points. He stares at the Impala for a bit, before he turns his head to Dean again. The light coming from inside the restaurant is what brightens Castiel’s face and Dean is a little breathless as he admires his illuminated features.

“She’s very beautiful.”

Dean smiles, proud and sheepish. “Thanks. Um, what about yours?”

Castiel inhales, taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t drive here tonight. I like walking.” he says slowly.

“Oh, okay.” Dean answers stupidly. It’s not that he’s disappointed they can’t talk about cars, it’s just… what else are they supposed to talk about at a moment like this?

“So what brought you here tonight, Cas?” Dean doesn’t catch himself in time, and the nickname is out. Oops. Castiel seems to inflate a little in response though, so he’s fine. For now.

“Rough day.” He says, then like an afterthought he adds, “At work.”

This dude is so fucking weird. Dean is obsessed with him.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, he just wants to take what Castiel offered. He’s been wanting to taste him since he looked at his lips, so he smirks at Castiel and he asks, “Come here, Cas.”

For a moment Castiel tilts his head, and Dean can’t figure him out, and he kinda loves that, the anticipation of not knowing what this guy is gonna do or who he is. Dean beckons him with a hand. He’s drunk enough on the beers from earlier and the whiskey and the adrenaline drop from the finished hunt that he’s allowing himself this tonight. A little recklessness can’t hurt.

Castiel walks closer than Dean expected him to, and Dean turns to press his back to the side wall, his shoulder barely off the edge where the front and side connect. Castiel follows the twist of his body perfectly because suddenly he’s crowding Dean against the small space with his hands on either side of his head on the wall. Their faces are mere inches apart.

Dean loves the way the air shifts then, like someone pulled a lever down and the current of electricity started running. They’re breathing each other’s air, and Castiel’s eyes are glued to Dean’s mouth, while Dean alternates his staring between Castiel’s darkened eyes and those chapped lips. Dean feels like he's vibrating.

He forces his hands to unfreeze and brush the trench coat flaps aside, coming to rest on top of Castiel’s hips, over his belt. This moves their bodies closer still, Dean subconsciously opening his legs wider to let Castiel slot a knee in between them. Their hips press, Dean shivers, and then he shivers even more when he feels Castiel’s lips pressing against his.

It’s exactly like he imagined, except it’s about a thousand times better. Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant, and he presses brushing kisses and pecks Dean’s lips for a bit, leaving them tingling for more, until he starts to really get into it. Castiel softly clamps his mouth around Dean’s bottom lip and he pulls back, and Dean is so fucked. He tries to keep his knees from wobbling, and then he gets what he wants when Castiel presses forward again, kissing him open mouthed, and there is his tongue, and it tastes really sweet and Dean feels positively intoxicated.

He can’t remember when he closed his eyes, but there are fireworks exploding behind them, and his dick is saying “Hell, yeah!” and he’s tilting his head to kiss Castiel deeper, chasing more of his mouth and his taste and his smell. His hands are gripping Castiel’s hips in a vice.

Dean can’t help the moan he lets out when Castiel’s tongue does a thing, and he also can’t help his surprise when Castiel pulls back abruptly after the sound has registered. His shock is almost overshadowed by the crude things his brain is thinking when he takes in Castiel, whose lips are shiny and wet, and whose pupils are enormous.

Dean holds his breath, furrows his eyebrows, and waits. Castiel is looking at him, pained.

“Dean, I can’t,” he whispers.

There is a moment, and then Dean blinks, understanding everything. He’s a little upset, but mostly embarrassed, except his brain can’t fully express that, so it’s put through a well-oiled machine that converts it into anger. Now, that he can do.

He’s pushing Castiel off him, walking five steps away then pivoting and walking back. He repeats this path, running a hand down his face as Castiel just fucking stands there, looking at him sadly.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean bites out.

“Dean, I can-” Casties tries.

“No, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whirls around to stare right at Castiel a few feet away. Castiel’s shoulders fall and it enrages Dean even more.

“You know what, Cas? Go fuck yourself. You got some issues to figure out, and it’s not gonna be with me. Go to hell, asshole.” Dean spits out, fixing Castiel with a furious stare, feeling his jaw tick in anger, and then he’s stomping away.

As he gets closer to the Impala, he crosses his arms, feeling indignation constrict his chest. This is not the first time this has happened with Dean and unfortunately, he thinks it probably won’t be the last.

Damn it. A guy like that? Probably has a pretty little wife, probably hides his wedding band right in his front pocket, which Dean completely skipped on his way to grab at Castiel’s ass. He groans internally as he rounds the back of the car till he reaches the driver’s door. He’s going home with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He hears as he fishes out his keys and puts the right one in the slot to unlock the door, and hey, Castiel’s voice is much closer than he expected, but Dean doesn’t have time to turn around and yell at him some more because suddenly the ground is completely gone from under his feet. Dean’s vision goes blinding white, and then pitch black.

The pain finally registers on the back of his head, and the last thing he sees before he's out, is the key chain dangling from the lock on the Impala’s door.

****

The world slowly slots back together as Dean wakes up. There’s four, then three, then two, and then it all merges into one again. Dean acutely feels the pouding in his head.

He’s… laying down? Yeah, he’s on a bed. The mattress is nice. There's even a thin blanket on top of him, dark grey. He turns his head to the side-nope, that’s a wall-tries the other side and okay good, there’s the rest of the room. He feels a little less claustrophobic now that he’s seen the whole space. It’s dark just because the lights are off. It looks like a normal basement, unfinished ceiling and all, with boxes stacked in the corner covering a whole wall. There’s a couch facing him, parallel to the bed, and there’s a figure sitting there. Dean eyes his phone, wallet, car keys, and pocket knife on a night stand next to the bed. It’s just out of his reach.

He pinches his eyes shut, wiggles his toes in his boots (no brain damage done, yay), and then he groans out: “What can I do for ya, Mr. Monster?”

When he opens his eyes, Castiel has turned one of the overhead light bulbs on. He looks serious.

“Firstly, I want to apologize, Dean. I didn’t want to have to do this, and I didn’t plan for it.”

Dean is more than confused. “What.”

Castiel stands up from his couch, he’s only in his suit now, tie loosened, and damn Dean’s stupid (probably concussed) brain, but he still looks yummy. Monster, Dean. Focus.

Castiel crosses his arms, and plants his feet. He keeps a very respectable distance away from the bed, and Dean’s gut twists at the thought that he was playing him all along.

“I didn’t… want to seduce you. I just wanted to talk. I might have derailed from my plan slightly.”

Dean’s jaw ticks. “And what was that amazing plan of yours, Castiel? If that’s your real name.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean’s tone. He huffs a breath out his nose, frowning.

“You know, Dean, you may not remember me, but I remember you. Fifteen years ago, your father killed my father, and I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breaths out after a few seconds of stunned silence, propping himself up to fully sit up on the bed. He feels his bruised brain click things together. “You’re the second one. You survived.”

Castiel is silent, and that’s all the confirmation Dean needs to know he was pinned down by this guy way before tonight.

Dean laughs. “What kind of fucked up revenge plot is this? You’ve been stalking me for years? Well, then you must know my father died of alcohol poisoning almost a decade ago. It was ugly and painful, and you missed your chance, asshole.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says sternly, “I didn’t want to kill your father. And I don’t want to kill you. That’s not why I ended up kidnapping you tonight. I’m grateful for what your father did for me.”

Dean does a double take, swings his feet off the bed and onto the ground. “You’re what?”

“This may come as a surprise, but not every monster is a monster. Not fully, anyway. I’m half-human. And I need your help to go all the way.”

[gangtaes]

Tag Game!

I was tagged by the loveliest Hannah ( @cuddlybitch ) 💜🌷❤️💕✨ Thank you!!

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? Blue with silver snowflakes (lol bought it from Target a few years back)

2. Name a food you never eat. Pickles & bitter melon, I just don’t like them at all 

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too warm

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? lol I was supervising my puppers & also on my phone

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? Crunch and Kit Kat

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? The only professional sports game I went to was a random volleyball game between women’s Team USA & Team Japan. It was an off season game

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? My dog falling asleep early like yesterday to my sister.

8. What is your favourite ice cream? Chocolate always. Coffee is my second choice. 

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? An iced matcha latte

10. Do you like your wallet? No but idk what kind of wallet I would want to switch it out for so it stays for now

11. What is the last thing you ate? pumpkin pie

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I did! New bras that I desperately needed & some pants.

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? The Dodgers World Series game??? lol

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Butter & kettle corn

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? My friend Genesses about black friday shopping lol

16. Ever been camping? yes but like way way wayyyyyyy back

17. Do you take vitamins? my sister has forced my entire family to take vitamins bc of covid so i’m taking vitamin c & b12. as a kid though i was forced to take those flinstones chalky vitamins

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? Yes.

19. Do you have a tan? sort of? it’s going away bc of fall/winter season though

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? definitely chinese food

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? no

22. What color socks do you usually wear? black always

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? lol yes. as a californian esp in socal i’m on the mild spectrum of an aggressive driver esp when people are slow

24. What terrifies you? spiders, cockroaches, slipping and falling off heights

25. Look to your left, what do you see? my desk

26. What chore do you hate most? mopping the floors

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? ugh why do they sound so good & why can’t i have a cool accent like that

28. What’s your favorite soda? controversial but pepsi and also root beer

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? honestly depends on the line

30. What’s your favorite number? 8

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My sister

32. Favorite meat? chicken unless we’re talking bbq then beef

33. Last song you listened to?  jam & butterfly (feat crush & eaj) - DPR Live

34. Last book you read? just started Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths and Monsters by Nikita Gill

35. Favorite day of the week? Friday.

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? lol with enough focus i guess??

37. How do you like your coffee? definitely sweet so sugar and cream

38. Favorite pair of shoes? my new balances

39. Time you normally get up? I naturally wake up at 8 if I don’t need to do anything early but WFH & with the puppy I wake up at 7:10 to get his walks in

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunsets 

41. How many blankets on your bed? 3? lol my duvet, a heavy thicker blanket & like a throw blanket

42. Describe your kitchen plates. depending on which we’re using typically small flat white plates though 

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment. Clean white countertops with grey cabinets. Lots of bananas and guavas and regular kitchen stuff like toaster oven, blender, dining table & fridge 

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I don’t really drink so I can’t really say but I’ve tried the fruity Stella Rosa which was pretty nice.

45. Do you play cards? lol not really. i used to as a kid

46. What color is your car? Silver.

47. Can you change a tire? lol no.

48. Your favorite state or province? washington & oregon (haven’t been here though) & i really dig the new york vibe (haven’t been but really want to)

49. Favorite job you’ve had? honestly haven’t found a favorite job yet

Tagging: @hwanginyeop, @yesdramas, @liveasbutterflies, @thingskateknows, @mercurialhigh, @moonlightsdream - no pressure to do this though C:

[deanwinchestermydaddy]

TO SEE YOU AGAIN (DEAN WINCHESTER STORY) PART. 17

*credits to the owner of the GIF

Dean's POV:

Everyone had left and me and Y/n were in our room. She got under the covers and turn off the light, "I'm sorry" I said and I felt her move to face me, "for what Dean? You haven't done anything wrong" she said, "for what I did to you and Ellie years ago," I said and she took a deep breath, "look Dean I forgave you for what you did, I shouldn't have pushed you to go to your parent's house that day, I should have let you stay at the house and go out with your friends at the bar," she said looking down, "why didn't you divorce me?" I asked I wanted to know more, "I love you Dean, my love for you didn't let me and when I saw you with our daughter the divorce papers were long forgotten and you said that you wanted to change for her, for us and you did," she said as she smiles and I cupped her face and kissed her. Then we went to sleep with her on my arms the way that I always wanted it to be.

~NEXT MORNING~

I woke up with her beside me, "Good morning Sweetheart " I said as I pulled her closer to me and kissed her, "morning" she said wrapping her arms around my neck kissing me softly on the lips, suddenly someone jumps onto the bed, "MOMMY! DADDY!" Ellie said as she gets between the both of us and hugging us, 'I really love this, my family with the woman I love' I thought, "I'm hungy mommy" Ellie said as she was resting on my chest with her tiny arms around me, "well little lady get down to the kitchen and wash your hands so we can start making breakfast, okay?" Y/n asked her, "YAY! PANCAKES!" Ellie run out screaming while I laugh at her antics, "that child is wild" Y/n said chuckling as I stare at her she looks so beautiful, "hey Sweetheart do monsters exist, you know like real ones. Like the ones we hunt?" I said and she looked at me weirdly, "Dean what are you talking about? We don't hunt, you have never been on a hunt or hold a gun on your entire life and no monsters don't exist unless you count the ones from the movies, why are you asking?" she said as she sat next to me on the edge of the bed, "what about Djinn's?" I asked her, "Djinns? What is that Dean, were you watching those Sci-Fi movies in the middle of the night again, baby?" she said and I looked at her weirdly, "I... it most be that sweetheart, I need to stop doing that " I said as she rubbed my back, "C'mon we should get going before your kid tries to make pancakes and burns the kitchen" she said as she pulled me with her towards the door and the stairs, "just my kid huh?" I said and she chuckles, "yeah your kid lover boy, " she said as we continue down the stairs, "I like the sound of that, " I said putting my arms around her waist.

~HOURS LATER~

"Dean remember we will have dinner at your parents at 8 so get ready because that will be in 40 minutes and they live 30 minutes away," she said as she approaches me from behind on the couch placing her hands around my neck to rest them on my chest, "Okay sweetheart," I said as I got up and pulled her towards me and kissed her, "I left your clothes on the bed, Bae, oh and the kids are ready so we are just waiting for you," she said as she was fixing her earrings on the mirror.

We soon arrived at my parent's house, the one that was supposed to be just ashes years ago, but it wasn't, Y/n was carrying Tony, while I had Ellie on my arms. As we enter I see my mom, dad, Sam, and Jess.

"How are you dear?" my dad asked Y/n and she smile and hugged him, "good John what about you?" she said and he just smiled at her, "better now that my grandkids are here, C'mon let me help you with the little man," he said taking my son from her arms and he started to do baby voices to him and took Ellie's hand as I put her down on the floor.

Soon we started to have dinner as the kids were sleeping, "so when are you going back to the hospital Y/n?" my dad asked, "well probably in a few months then I think I will become part-time to spend time with the kids" she said smiling then looking at me, "that's great, but you know we can take care of them. We love listening to some noise in the house is just really quiet and the kids bring us happiness" he said and Y/n nodded, "thank you so much I am glad we decided to move here and not stay in California" she said, "Hey! What's wrong with California Y/n?" Sam said acting offended, "nothing Sam-squash, it just that we don't have any family there that was going to help us with the kids," she said and Sam just opened his mouth and acted offended, "wow! Y/n wow! I feel offended" he said joking and Jess playfully slapped him, "Y/n is right. What! were you going to take Little Ellie to your lectures of 3 hrs?" she asked and Sam looked down and gave a thin smile, "okay the nurse was right as most of the time" he said and everyone laughs. Then it hit me, this wasn't real at all, my parents and Jess weren't alive, Y/n and I weren't married with kids, everything was made from my imagination thanks to the Djinn. The Djinn that we were hunting.

"This isn't real!" I said loud and all of them stopped and looked at me, "this is real Dean" Y/n said trying to calm me down as I stood up from the table, "mom do you still have the sterling silver knife?" I asked and she nodded and pointed into the kitchen, "what are you planning Dean?" I heard Y/n said and footsteps behind me, "this isn't real!" I said again looking for the silver knife, "this is real Dean we have a family Ellie and Tony are our kids!" Y/n said with tears on her eyes, then I see a flash of what happened to me ' I was walking around the abandoned warehouse when suddenly I am pinned to the wall by the Djinn and he runs his hand through my hair then I woke up here' I remembered everything, "you can live a normal life, no hunting, no demons just happiness Dean" Sam said moving closer as I pointed the knife towards me, "you don't have to do that dean, you are happier here" Jess said as her, my mom and dad approach me.

" C' mon bae our kids need you, I need you!" Y/n pleaded, "no, no this isn't real!" I said as I pressed the knife into my chest a little, "daddy?" that voice made everyone turn towards the kitchen door to see my daughter rubbing her sleepy eyes, "mommy what is daddy woing?" she said and Y/n looked with desperation, "jess take her away from here!" she said trying to remain calm, "I'm sorry princess but I have to go cause you're not real" I said as I stab myself in the chest, the last thing I heard was Y/n screaming before everything went dark.

Y/n POV:

~ 2 days before ~

"hey, Sam-squash!" I said walking inside of the motel that the 3 of us were staying, "hey shorty" he said making me laugh, "hey careful Sammy, I am the only one allowed to call her that" Dean said as he walked from the bed to the table chair on which Sam had all the research of the hunt that we were doing, "so tell me Samster what are we hunting?" I said as I was going to sit down in the chair next to Dean but he pulled me to his lap, "can you guys keep it PG, this is where we eat!" Sam said as he started to fake gag as Dean kissed me, "This is all PG Sammy, in the bed that is rated R" Dean said and I playfully slapped him on the chest, "okay can we continue about the case please" I said and Dean looked at me and pointed at Sam, "he started" he said and I chuckle, "really mature Dean, really mature. Well Y/n it seems that it is a Djinn" he said and I nodded, "do we know where it is?" I asked, "yeah it seems that he is on an abandoned warehouse," he said and I nodded 'oh boy don't I love to kill the things that almost killed me' I thought, "we all should go to get some drinks before we kill that son of a bitch," Dean said and we all nodded.

We were at the bar and I brought the beers to the table and I took my place next to Dean, " I am damn lucky to have a hot chick like you!" he said kissing my cheek and pulling me closer to him as we all finished our drinks, "then we should get going 'cause the 'party' will be tomorrow" I said as the 3 of us walked out of the bar towards Baby.

The following day we went to that warehouse all of us went into different directions, "be careful, alright Dean I need you here with me" I said to Dean and kissed him, "sure thing sweetheart I'll be crazy to leave you" he said winking at me as he walked into the direction that he was supposed to enter the warehouse.

Dean's POV:

~PRESENT~

"Dean! Dean baby please wake up" I feel a hand holding my face, "Sam I found him!" she screams and I hear footsteps, "dammit Dean please don't leave me" I felt her took things from my body. My eyelids fluttered open and I see Y/n's teary eyes I smile weakly at her, "hey... Y/n..." I said as I groan, "yeah baby I'm here" she said as she tries to get me off the thing that I was on, "I know it is a really bad time but hey, what the hell, I want you to know that... you're one hot-sexy hunter and a hot mama" I said winking at her and she just shakes her head as Sam approached us, "Hey, hey" he said as I looked at him, "Oh, Auntie Em" I said still hallucinating as they try help me get off the things, "there's no place like home" I said as they were still trying to free me.

As Sam was undoing the ropes from my arms Y/n was taking those things on my arms when I suddenly see the Djinn, "Sam!" I said and soon the Djinn attacked him while Y/n continue to untie me but soon Sam was un the floor unconscious and as he tries to run his hands through his hair Y/n reacted and tackle him, she tried to stab him but he pinned her to the wall the to the stair knocking her silver knife to the floor. I try to pull the ropes and I was able to free myself and run to where the Djinn had Y/n pinned and was choking her, she had one of her hands trying to stop him from choking her and the other trying to stop him from putting her into the state that I was.

I picked up the knife and stabbed him in the back and he stopped choking Y/n as he falls to the ground. I looked at Y/n while she catches her breath, "are you, okay sweetheart?" I asked her and she just hugged me tight, "I will never let you go alone without back up, okay, I can't lose you, Dean," she said as she kissed my lips and I felt my legs gave out but she was able to hold me, "I got you don't worry," she said reassuring me as Sam woke up rubbing his head, "is it dead?" he asked and me and Y/n nodded, "great let's go," he said and the three of us walked out of the warehouse.

Sam went in the back to lay down while Y/n placed me on the passenger side while she drives back to the Bunker, "just rest your eyes baby" she said as she squished my hand telling that everything will be okay. She turned the radio on and the song that started represented what I saw. The song that was playing was 'What is and What should never be' by Led Zeppelin and I slowly started to fell asleep as I saw her glance at me as she drove and sign the song softly.

[renywrites]

Old Habits Die Hard

Keith and Lance’s New Year’s Resolutions:

1. Eat less sweets

2. Work out every morning

3. Go to bed early

4. Organize the basement

5. Spend more time with each other

One

Lance was very weak when it came to sugar. And of course, Keith had put ‘cut back on sugar’ at the top of their resolutions list, like some kind of monster. Maybe it would be better at the bottom of the list? Or in the middle? It was kind of insulting that he had put it at the top! And that knowing little look he’d given Lance? Ugh.

Keith’s unreasonable request was the exact reason why Lance was in the kitchen at 2:43am, sitting on the floor and halfway through a carton of rocky road ice cream. He was eating it out of spite. His boyfriend was being ridiculous, and Lance was not going to stand for it.

In retrospect, maybe eating a carton of ice cream just a few hours before he had to wake up and get ready for work had been a really bad idea. Lance groans, burying his face in his pillow and clutching his stomach.

“Should I stay home?” Keith frets, checking his forehead for the millionth time. “You seemed fine last night…”

“No!” Lance says quickly. Keith did not need to see him drown himself in pepto bismol and Sprite. Also, there might be a couple empty ice cream cartons he needed to dispose of. Just a couple. “No, go to work… I’ll be fine. It’s probably just a 24 hour thing.”

His boyfriend gives him an odd look, then rolls his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with the empty ice cream carton in the freezer?”

His blood freezes in his veins and he swallows very loudly. “No?” He says, very convincingly. Keith was going to be so convinced.

There’s a soft scoff and then a hand ruffling his hair fondly. “I knew it. I’ll call your work and let them know you caught a bug. Want me to have Hunk bring you some crackers and Sprite?”

“Please…” He moans, clutching his stomach as another wave of nausea hits.

“Will do,” Keith chuckles, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And tonight when I get home, I’m getting rid of anything sugary we still own. I’ll find that secret stash of yours, McClain.”

There’s a sense of finality in his tone that both makes him nervous and turns him on a little. “Okay.” He mumbles guiltily, settling in to deal with his horrible mistake.

Two

“I don’t want to.” Keith groans, pulling the blankets up over his head.

Lance puts his hands on his hips, huffing. “Keith Kogane, you were the one who decided it would be a good idea to get up at the ass crack of dawn and go to the gym.”

“We did that yesterday.” The Korean whines petulantly.

“The list says every morning, so we’re going.”

The covers are pushed back slowly, revealing a mop of messy black hair and amethyst eyes narrowed to evil little slits. Surprisingly, Lance was the early bird in this relationship. It drove Keith absolutely nuts, which was why he had decided that if he was going to be disturbed by his boyfriend in ungodly hours of the morning, he might as well make the most of it.

But this morning, he was not having it.

Lance is unprepared for the sudden attack, squawking as his boyfriend launches himself at him, yanking him gracelessly back into the bed and aggressively koala hugging him.

“No.” Comes the verdict.

Lance almost wants to struggle, but then Keith presses a line of kisses over the exposed skin of his neck and tucks the warm blanket around them, and he’s weak. Leave it to Keith to play dirty.

“Okay.” He sighs.

And there went their second resolution.

Three

“We should go to bed.” Lance yawns, rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock. It read 10:38pm.

Keith glances up from his computer, where he’d been playing Poptropica for the past three hours, hoping lance hadn’t noticed (He had). “Can’t we stay up for another half hour? I’m almost done with this isla- uh… thing.”

Lane throws him an amused look, picking up the book on the coffee stable he’d been meaning to read. “Yes, finish playing Zomberry Island. We can stay up another half hour.”

His boyfriend gives him a sheepish, grateful little smile before turning back to his screen. The two settle into comfortable silenced, the sounds of clicking coming from Keith’s computer and the rasp of pages against fingertips filling the room between them.

Time flies past, neither of them really keeping tabs. Keith finishes Zomberry Island and starts on another one, completely engrossed in the screen. Lance loses himself to the plot of his book. Neither of them notice the time.

Well, not until Lance’s phone buzzes angrily, letting him know that it was well past the time for it to be plugged in for the night. He passes a hand over his face and marks the page, sitting up to see what it was fussing about. He freezes when he reads the time.

3:07am.

“Keith,” Lance says, staring in silent horror. “Babe, I think we should go to bed.”

“But I’m almost…” He trails off, falling back into his hyperfixation.

“No, Kogane, it’s bedtime.” Lance walks over, gently pulling his hands from the keyboard and stealing a kiss.

Keith gives him a dazed look, then glowers. “Hey, I was focusing.”

“I know.” He says, amused. He turns his phone on, then shows him the time. Keith’s eyes widen. “But it’s seriously time for us to go to sleep.”

Keith’s mouth twists into a wry smile as he lets Lance pull him from the chair and towards their bedroom. “We’re really bad at this whole resolutions thing, aren’t we?”

“The worst.” Lance laughs.

Four

“No.” Lance says stubbornly, standing at the top of the basement stairs. “Absolutely not.”

Keith kicks a box out of his way, wading into the piles of random and useless crap and the sea of boxes. “But we said that we’d do this.”

“The Lance that said we’d clean this monstrosity was also drunk and considering dying his hair bright pink. I am not that Lance anymore, Keith.”

The Korean lets out a snort of amusement, looking up at a stack of boxes that was taller than him. “Well… somebody’s gotta do it.”

Lance crosses his arms, leaning against the banister. “That somebody is not going to be me. And knowing you, you’re going to get through half of this and I’ll find you at four in the morning sitting in a pile of old clothes and covered in dust because you found an old toy and you’re playing with it.”

Keith gives the boxes a reproachful look, but even he can’t deny that. “Yeah…”

“We can bribe the Holts and Hunk to do it with pizza and beer.” Lance shrugs.

“Yeah.” His boyfriend nods, hardly taking a second to agree. “Yep. Okay. Let’s do that.”

“C’mon, mullet.” Lance chuckles. “Get outta there before I lose your short ass to dust and spiders.”

“Spiders?!” Keith shrieks, immediately jumping away from the boxes and bounding up the stairs.

“You fought intergalactic space monsters and you’re afraid of spiders?” Lance laughs, switching off the light and closing the basement door.

“It’s different, Lance! They have too many eyes and legs!”

“Whatever you say.” Comes the amused reply as they leave the messy basement to debate arachnids.

Five

“So I bought all of the movies you texted me because I couldn’t pick. Also I got Mike and Ikes, licorice, Reese’s, Twix, and a shit ton of other stuff. And Chinese.”

Lance looks up as Keith dumps the haul down on the counter, smiling fondly and nursing his cup of tea. His boyfriend looks up, then walks over and tips his chin up, giving him a soft kiss.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks quietly, his amethyst eyes searching Lance’s.

The Cuban gives him a wobbly, wet smile, shrugging. He’d forgotten a dose of his anti-anxiety meds and had called Keith at work in the middle of a panic attack. Keith had immediately packed his things, talking to Lance as he headed to the store to pick up things for a relaxing evening.

“C’mon.” Keith says, his tone soothing, leading Lance to the couch. “You relax and I’ll put a movie in.”

Lance settles himself on the couch while Keith slots a disney movie into the DVD player, bustling about to get their food and snacks ready for the night. It was going to be a long one. Keith was determined to calm his boyfriend down so he could sleep easily tonight.

The two settle into a cocoon of food and drinks and blankets, ready for their night.

“Thank you.” Lance says quietly as the opening credits of their movie start rolling.

“Of course.” Keith gives a soft look and an even softer kiss. “We’ll make Friday nights movie nights, okay?”

“Okay.” Lance whispers, pillowing his head against Keith’s shoulder, smiling to himself.

Maybe they were bad at keeping trivial resolutions, but they excelled at the ones that meant the most. And, really, that was all that mattered.

[catsitta]

SPOILERS - Updated Timeline for ‘Handle With Care’

Since we hit the end of arc 2, I thought it appropriate to update the timeline for Handle With Care. Spoilers ahead for those who haven't read/read to this point.

Our dates will be based around Chapter One, which will be marked as 00. So all events will happen after or before 00 (i.e, chapter one). +1 day would mean 1 day AFTER 00, and -1 day would mean one day BEFORE 00. Hope this is clear!

Also, to help make things even more clear, I'm also going to include the KNOWN ages of characters thus far:

Red - 19

Sans - 28

Papyrus - 6

Edge - 6

Frisk - 14/15

Chara - 14/15

Undyne - 14/15 (Same age as Chara/Frisk)

Kris - 17/18 (Senior in highschool)

Asriel - 18+ (college age, not yet clarified)

Now onto the timeline!

-28 years [Sans is born]

-(~aprx) 18 - 22 years [Asriel is born]

-19 years [Red is born]

-18 years [Sans starts babysitting for Toriel]

-(~aprx) 17 - 18 years [Kris is born]

-(~aprx) 14/15 years [Frisk and Chara are born. Undyne is born.]

-12 years [Sans earnes his first masters degree at 16]

-6 years [Edge is born. Papyrus is born. Toriel adopts Frisk, Chara and Kris after some time as a foster parent.]

-3 years [Red and Edge are orphaned when their old man jumps into the powerplant where he works (CORE). Red drops out of school at 16 to work.]

-1 year - Ch. 5 [Red earns his GED at 18. A bullet breaks a window in Red and Edge's apartment. Red starts job hunting.]

00 - Ch. 1 - 4, 6-9 [Weekend, Red has a new job as a mechanic and a new apartment. It's move in day. He meets Sans and Papyrus]

+1 day - Ch. 10 - 15 [Weekday, Edge's first day of school and Red's first day of work. Red meets Frisk.]

+2 days - Ch. 16 - 19 [Weekday, Edge throws a fit, Red and Sans learn about each other's low HP]

+1 week - Ch. 20 - 22 [Weekend, Red goes to the park, Sans is selling hotdogs and invites Red and Edge to a sleepover for Papyrus]

+1 week - Ch. 23 - 33 [Weekend, Sleepover, Edge makes his first bullets, Sans and Red fall asleep on the couch, Red confesses and kisses Sans. No answer is given why Sans turns him down.]

+(~aprx) 9 - 12 days - Ch.34 [Weekday - Red's coworker notices his distracted behavior]

+ ~2 weeks - Ch. 36 - 37 [Weekday, Red is late back from work and sees Sans in a labcoat and glasses. Sans and Red show they are bad at keeping distance and fall asleep on the couch.]

+ ~2 weeks - Ch. 38 - 40 [Weekday, Sans and Red wake up, Red and Sans have an awkward exchange and agree that they are still friends, and the boys get into a fight at school]

+ ~3 weeks - Ch. 41 - 46 [Weekend, Red seeks Sans' help with a despondent Edge, goes into Sans' room and discovers a box of photos and newspaper clippings.]

+ ~3 Weeks - Ch. 47 [Weekend, Red cheers up Edge with some rowdy roughhousing, that also doubles as magic practice.]

+ ~1 Month - Ch. 48 [Weekday, Frisk passes along an invite from her mom for Red and Edge to a picnic with her family and Sans.]

+ ~1 Month - Ch. 49 - 57 [Weekend, Lunch with Toriel and the kids. Red meets Chara and Undyne, and learns more about Sans than before.]

+ ~5 Weeks - Ch. 58 - 70 [Weekday, Sans gets drunk and wakes Red up. More bonding and discoveries. Sans and Red take a day off from work so Sans can sleep. There are confessions. A joking proposal. And Sans kisses Red.]

.

Notes: +Red's father worked at the CORE, a powerplant built and owned by Dreemur Energy and Biotech. (Ch. 5 & 49)

+Toriel and Sans' families are very close, and it's evident that she babysat him as a babybones, and he in turn babysat her children, so Sans has a lot of experience with kiddos. (Ch.13, 15, 29 & 50)

+Sans has more than one degree (Ch.43)

+Sans only has pictures of himself and Papyrus (Ch. 43-44)

+Red was raised only by his father. He assumes he and Edge have the same "mother". (Ch. 51 - The reason behind this will be clarified later)

+Sans, Frisk and Toriel all know Red likes mustard despite him never telling any of them. Edge and Papyrus talk about many things. (Ch. 24, 48 & 50

+Sans is a little taller than Red, but Red is broader, both are short (Ch.31)

+Red has 5HP, Sans has 1HP (Ch. 18-19)

+Monsters fall in love quickly and mutual pining is percieved as culturally odd, since they KNOW if their souls are compatible. (Ch.35)

+Sans is a lightweight, and managed to get drunk on 1 and half bottles of 'blue label' beer (cheap/Lite beer). Red, despite being underage (drinking age implied to be 21), has obviously drank before and has thoughts on the said beer. (Ch. 61)

+Despite being the son of a well-known scientist, Dr. WingDings Gaster, Sans dislikes being called Sans Gaster, and keeps no photos of Gaster. And despite his father being alive, he is raising Papyrus. While the the state of their relationship isn't spoken on, it is implied to be in a poor state. (Ch. 43-44, 53-55)

+It is implied that monsters show a love interest they want a relationship by exchanging puzzles (Ch. 19, 70)

[thechroniclesofwriting]

Smut - A.I Blurb

A/N: you kids better love me. This is PART 2 of 3 because I got carried away. And guess what? Part three is already written. Enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing? Idk the next bit is the really smutty bit. 

Part 2

Y/N

He didn’t remember the next morning. Of course he didn’t remember. Or at least, if he remembered, he did a pretty good job at playing dumb.

You’d had spent a good portion of the night awake, mulling over what the frick frack your very drunk, very cute, very asleep boyfriend was on about. If you were being truly honest, aside from kissing, you weren’t actually sure how physically attracted Ashton was to you. Sure, you knew he had a thing for being in charge - he smirked too damn much when you’d told him you needed to sit down the first time he made out with you properly - but other than that, you honestly knew nothing. Your experience with boys was that they generally tended to jump your bones the second they saw a chance, and that was certainly the experience your friends had had too. They were all completely surprised that he wasn’t pressuring you into sex, or even pressuring you into anything more than making out. In fact, last night was the first time his hands had wandered under your clothes, the first time you’d had to stop him from going further than your collarbones. If you was being honest, had he been sober, you wouldn’t’ve stopped him at all. He was the perfect boyfriend and perfect gentleman in every way, and you had no idea how to ask him to push her boundaries, without blushing up a bushfire.

When you woke, he’d extracted himself. It was 8am, and the room smelled faintly of beer and his deodorant. Clearly, the room had been cleaned and a candle was burning, which was very sweet of him. Your leggings and a clean t-shirt were laid out on his desk. Stupid perfect boyfriend.

You got dressed and wandered out into the kitchen. At 8am, there was no way any of the others would be awake. By your estimates, they went to bed around 4am, off their faces and singing the backstreet boys. You couldn’t hear the shower, so that meant one of two things. Ash was either in the pool - unlikely, considering it was the middle of winter - or in the music room.

Sure enough, you found him, sweaty and in a tank top and banging away at his drums. A part of you wanted to make an awful dirty joke that would make Luke cry 97% of the time, and a part of you wanted to sit there and watch. But if you sat there and watched, you’d have to go back inside and change her underwear and there was no way he wasn’t going to hear you do that. So, you took a deep breath and walked over to him, placing a tentative hand on his bicep to let him know you were there.

Ash stopped immediately, putting down his sticks and turning towards you. You brushed her hand across his sweaty curls on his forehead and smiled fondly.

‘Hello princess,’ he said, drawing her towards him by your hips.

‘Hi,’ you responded, threading your hands through his hair.

‘I thought you’d be asleep for ages, you were out of it last night,’

‘Really?’ you responded cautiously, curious to see what he remembered.

‘Yeah you were out of it after Monsters Inc. so I carried you to bed,’

Yep. Nothing. He remembered. Nothing.

Wonderful.

You chuckled lightly, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

‘Don’t be embarrassed!’ he cried, flicking at your cheeks. ‘It was cute!’

‘Right-o.’ you thought. ‘I’m in deep shit now’

****

Ashton

When he woke, it was 6am and he was entangled in his girlfriend, morning wood pressed flush against her arse and hand slipped up her top to cup one of her breasts. Apparently asleep Ashton was much braver than awake Ashton. She was sound asleep, that much was clear from her even breathing, so he allowed himself 10 seconds to breathe in the sweet floral scent of her perfume and the plush feel of her small body pressed up against him.

It was after that ten seconds, however, that the real horror of last night hit him. It was entirely her fault, really. She made such delicious noises when he pulled his hands away from her skin that he couldn’t help but remember the noises she was making last night. When he was very drunk. And very jealous. And very forward.

Oh shit.

****

The night before

He very much remembered how upset he was when she was giving sex advice to Luke. He hadn’t even talked to her about sex yet, and here she was, giving the stupid blonde pretty boy advice. He had a bit of a complex when it came to her and Luke, sure. She’d been a ‘Luke girl’ when she was just a fan, though she throughly protested it was because she was banned from being an Ashton girl by not one, but three girls that she was friends with. Still, it didn’t help his jealously at all - she was his and that was that. He knew she had eyes only for him. She’d told him as much, multiple times. It was just a thing that he wasn’t going to let go - at least not until he had a ring on her finger. Or maybe a child. Or a mortgage. Something permanent.

If he was being totally honest, though, it was the smut thing that really got him going. She’d never really shown a huge interest in sex before, and he certainly wasn’t going to push her. He’d rather she stuck around giving him tiny morsels of pecks and cuddles than ran away because he was too forward. Hell, if he had to take care of himself for a year to make sure she stuck around, that’s exactly what he would do. He’d been thrilled the first time he’d kissed her properly and she’d clung onto his shoulders like a lifeboat, eventually telling him that  she needed to sit down before she fell. But this was different; she’d basically admitted - in front of his friends, no less, which made his blood boil - that she read smut. In fact, she admitted she knew foreplay was a part of sex and fuck did his pants get tight when she said that.

He hadn’t been able to resist when she hid under that stupid blanket, blushing like a christmas light. She was too cute and honestly he liked holding her too much. It hadn’t taken much for him to kick Michael out of his seat next to her - apparently everyone but y/n knew he was both pissed off and turned on. To his credit, when she snuggled down into his neck, her small hands clasping at the thin material of his shirt, legs thrown over his, he calmed down pretty quick. Though the calming down was in the pissed off sense - he was amazed she didn’t feel him through his jeans, especially the way she was pressed up against him. But she just sighed and within minutes was snoring softly in his ear.

Carrying her upstairs was easy - he’d told her multiple times she was crazy light, and though she didn’t believe him, it was true. The difficult part was pulling off her leggings - she hated sleeping in pants, he’d learned - without settling in between her legs and waking her up in the nicest way possible. But that would be a little weird and, considering they hadn’t done anything yet, a little rapey, so he settled for a kiss before he headed downstairs.

They were all staring at him when he got downstairs. Frankly, though she was smaller and smarter - and a tad scarier, sometimes - than all of them, she remained the baby of the group. It was all well and good to tease her, but come down to it, no one was going to say anything to totally mortify her; that is, until she had a sex life to be teased about.

‘Dude you’re whipped as fuck,’ Michael had told him as he was handed his beer. Ash scowled, sculling the drink, holding out his cup for ‘something stronger’.

‘Ash you need to make a move,’ Crystal had told him from the floor. She’d broken into the vodka, her vibrant hair spilling around her as she chided the older boy. ‘She’s waiting. She’s horny. You could probably talk your way between her legs if you wanted to,’ she giggled at his stunned expression, which quickly turned into a scowl.

‘I’m not doing anything she’s not comfortable with. Even if she can be persuaded, she needs to be sure,’ he had responded.

A chorus of WHIPPED surrounded the room as Ash sculled his next drink.

‘Next topic,’ he’d told them sullenly, though something in his tone must have told the boys that the next person to discuss y/n’s v-card was going to get hit. They moved on pretty fast.

****

It was around 1am when he’d gotten the text. He was delightfully drunk and he had no notion of his decidedly blue balls or of the gorgeous girl asleep in his bed.

‘Having fun?’ The message read. She was awake and suddenly fuck, so was everything in him.

Every logical part of his body had said no. It had said don’t do it. It said let her sleep and ignore the text like you’d normally do at a big party. But this wasn’t a big party. It was beer night. And by now, Luke was on the phone with his girlfriend, Michael and Crystal had fucked off and Cal was asleep on the couch. And she was upstairs, in his bed, not wearing any pants.

He wasn’t ashamed to say he’d practically run upstairs, heart going a million miles an hour, tripping over almost everything on the floor in his eagerness to get into the bed and press little kisses all over her.

He remembered that he’d made a terrible joke about her smelling pretty and frankly, he didn’t remember what it was - only that yes, she smelled very pretty. He did, however, remember that he’d offered her to shower with him - it was a fantasy of his, having her pressed up against the shower screen when she was supposed to be studying, though he probably should’ve stopped that from coming out of his mouth.

He remembered that he insistently wanted to talk to her about something, but he kept getting distracted with all of the exposed skin of her neck. That was the wonderful thing about her being so small compared to him; all of his t-shirts showed a good deal of neck and collarbone when she wore them. But then it had come to him.

‘Y/N I have something to tell you,’ he had whispered, getting lost in the feeling of her clothed hip underneath his hands. She’d made a delicious humming sound in response, eyes closed.

‘You know sex isn’t always…4 thrusts right?’ If he wasn’t so focussed on getting his next few words out, he would probably have laughed at how fast her eyes flew open. Her body was frozen, yet still so pliant to his hands. He just wanted to touch her - as long as he didn’t push it over the edge, he figured he was okay. He brushed up the deliciously soft skin of her upper thigh, wanting nothing more than to follow that trajectory with his mouth.

‘I know you aren’t ready yet,’ he continued, his lips grazing her reddening cheeks. ‘But when you are, I’ll make it so good for you baby I promise,’

SO good. He knew how to make it good for her. He’d done his research. Oh buddy he’d done a lot of research on how to make the first time good for a girl. She might be the one at university, but he was single mindedly focussed on his research, on making sure that if she did, ever, have sex with him, it would be the best sex she would ever have. Mind blowing. Earth shattering. Better than any orgasm she could give herself by just reading smut or by being with another guy. He’d rather she never left him, but frankly, if she did, he wanted her to remember the two incredible orgasms she had when she lost her virginity.

He had stroked up, he remembered that, tracing his fingers lightly over the lace of her underwear. A tentative feel upwards told him that her underwear was all lace - one day, he’d make her tell him that the smooth lace was just for him. Her legs shook a little at the touch, and he felt her thighs tighten. All he wanted was to move in closer to the centre of her legs, but his brain had reeled him in, thankfully.

’There will be,’ he had said, kissing her smooth skin with each word, ‘so much,’ his hands had slid up to grab at the luscious weight of her hips, ‘foreplay,’ a breathy gasp left her pink lips, which he muffled with his own. Pulling back with a smirk, he told her ‘you’ll never need smut again.’ Her hands flitted around his shoulders, unsure where to find purchase. She was a sight to behold - thighs clenched, his t-shirt pushed up to her waist, burning cheeks and wide eyes.

‘Breathe,’ he’d told her, smiling softly.

‘Okay,’ she said, breathily, after a moment, ‘breathing,’ That was the response he wanted. His princess. Underneath him. Breathing a little too heavily. She was far too precious.

The next thing he remembered, he was asleep.

****

He swore all the way to the shower. He swore in the shower. He swore while he was jacking himself off and he swore while he got out of the shower. He swore at Michael when he got out of the bathroom and then he swore some more on the way to the bedroom.

The room was embarrassingly messy, and it smelt like beer. Y/n was thankfully completely and utterly asleep while he tidied up, and while he lit a candle he was pretty sure was her favourite. He laid out her clothes - he desperately wanted to give her a drawer, but laying them out worked too. He put on sweats and a tank top and headed outside. He was either going to burn this off at the gym or on the drums, and his drums were closer. He was 87% sure she was going to walk the fuck away from him when she woke up and jesus the anxiety was too much to bear.

About an hour later she touched his bicep in the music room. It was soft, tentative, unsure. In fact, if he hadn’t seen her reflection in the windows he probably wouldn’t have felt it. He stopped, breathed in deeply and turned, ready to face the music. Ready to face a crying girlfriend or a screaming girlfriend or something.

She took his breath away a little, which was quite the feat considering how hard he was pounding his drum kit. She was a sight. Messy hair, leggings and his t-shirt, still half asleep. She wasn’t running from him yet. In fact, she smiled softly, and brushed her hand across his very sweaty forehead; the opposite reaction to what he was expecting.

His mind reeled and settled on one option. Now was the time to play dumb.

‘Hello princess,’ he said, hoping she didn’t hear the tremble in his voice. He felt for her hips, drawing her to stand in-between his legs, close enough that he could almost taste her.

‘Hi,’ she responded, her little hands coiling their way into his hair. He was sure he was incredibly sweaty, but she didn’t seem to mind, bumping her nose against his. She wasn’t the slightest bit mad, only sleepy and smiley.

‘I thought you’d be asleep for ages, you were out of it last night,’

Play. Dumb. Play. Dumb. his mind chanted.

Her eyes seemed to dull a little. Was that disappointment he sensed?

‘Really?’ she responded, eyebrows raised.

‘Yeah you were out of it after Monsters Inc. so I carried you to bed,’ he told her.

She giggled awkwardly, colour filling her cheeks as she looked down at their feet. Her grip in his hair loosened and shifted down to his equally as sweaty neck. Oh yeah. That was definitely disappointment. Shit.

The only thing he could do was tell her not to be embarrassed.

‘It was cute!’ he insisted, flicking at her cheeks, standing to his full height. She made that humming sound again - that stupid sound that went straight to his groin - and buried her face into his chest, moving her hands from his neck to the small of his back.

‘Busy,’ she mumbled, ‘don’t want to talk about it,’

He knew she felt the rumble of the chuckle that went through his chest. He knew mostly because she pressed her face further into his chest and clung to him tighter.

Right. She she’d heard everything he’d said last night. And she wasn’t….running. In fact, she was reacting more strongly. Maybe Crystal was right. Maybe he did need to make a move and be more forward. Maybe this could work in his favour.

He kissed her temple softy, coaxing her face up with his fingers. She smiled at him, that beautiful, heart warming smile that was reserved just for him (and her cat but ok). He worked his way down her from her hairline, to her cheek and eventually her mouth, trying to give her the same knee wobbling kiss that had her clinging to him the first time he’d really, truly, kissed her properly. He pulled out all his tricks; no longer going for that sweet boyfriend feel, rather looking for what made her gasp and moan. Small nips at her bottom lip meant he could lick his way into her mouth, while she wasn’t exactly unhappy to completely give up control to him. Unpredictable kisses kept her needy and following his mouth, stretching up to her tippy toes, which bruising force made her moan. Jesus christ he wished he’d figured this out a good month ago.

When he pulled away, she was gasping for breath, hanging tight to his biceps. He kissed lightly down her jawline, practically holding her up by her waist. When she was calm (and he was calm, but he wasn’t admitting that), he nosed at her hair, loosening the bruising grip he had on her, letting her rest her weight on her own feet.

‘Breakfast?’ he offered, quietly. The responding giggle made his heart flutter as she lifted her face to his.

‘Pancakes?’ she asked brightly.

This. He wanted this forever.

Part One

[alliebruns-blog]

The Namibia/Panama Crossings Part Two. The Desert, Day 5

DAY 5 Conception - The wreck of the Eduard Bohlen - 9 miles (AKA Look Mum, I Crossed A Desert!)

I wake up with a HANGOVER because I am not used to drinking wine anymore. Just a baby hangover, but a baby one when you have a desert to finish crossing is still a pain in the arse. Coffee and salt tabs for breakfast plus a bit of granola - and we are off. Darren is fresh as anything, so he whizzes ahead to try and catch Dani and Jim. I realise that I am going to be alone for a lot of today. Not sure if that’s a good thing. I don't feel mentally strong, but there you go. It is what it is.  That’s life. 

It’s a grey morning and I struggle to find the footprints that Dani and Jim have left for us. The dunes have more of less flattened out now - they are more undulating than mega frustrating, and it’s cold, because we are heading to the coast - I have 2 layers on. It feels like a different life to the one we were living yesterday. I trek away on my own, with my own weird thoughts. They are thoughts of pride, mixed with the inability to accept what I have done. Feelings of ‘who the fuck cares’ and feelings that I should try and keep myself together. I want to sit and cry. 

The irony of runnable terrain when you are totally exhausted...

I trot over a small dune, and suddenly I can see and smell the sea. It’s almost too much for me to take in. It’s almost over. The smell ignites my childhood memories of holidays, and the mist is rolling in across the flat sand. It’s beautiful and bleak. 

I keep trotting on - not wanting it to end, but willing it to end at the same time. What will I do when I get to wreck? Will I cry? No, I can’t cry. I just want to cry at the moment. I am all out of snacks and everyone is ahead of me. I am last. Always last. 

Old German mining railway left to rot on the skeleton coasts salt plains

The sea is not getting any nearer, but I come over a dune towards some plains. The salt plains. They are wet and cold and salty. Do what they say on the tin. The sand drops away under my feet and it’s more like an estuary than a desert. In front of me, is what looks like water, but I have learnt not to trust the desert. Turns out that this time it IS water. My feet are very wet and my shoes are full of grit.  

Seem fine to walk on right? 

NOPE. 

The water gets deep quickly and is running fast. It has dead fish in it. It’s about calf deep now, and my radio comes into action. It’s Jim. He has already crossed it. He says it will take me 45 mins at least. I look at it, and, being mental and not being able to judge distance, think “nah, that’s ten mins”. It takes me 90 minutes to cross the fast flowing estuary and get to the support vehicle. I have no pictures or video of it, as my hands and phone were too wet and frankly, I was too exhausted to film it. 

One of the things I remember vividly about this trip is those 90 mins. It was so hard. Lifting your tired legs and feet out of wet, deep mud.  Feeling like you are going backwards, and having nobody to talk to. The support vehicle seemed like it was getting further and further away. It was horrible - really horrible. It’s something that in times of stress I will always recall. Relentless forward progress. You will get there. I stood and shouted the word ‘FUCK’ many, many times at the water. I hated it. 

Back on firmer land with unidentifiable dead shit. 

Eventually, I made it to firmer sand and got to the vehicle. I said very little to Danny and David. I wanted to change my socks - I had 3 miles to go, so really no need. I felt mental, and probably looked and talked like I was. My shoes were filled with grit and water and I did my best to dust them off. Danny and David told me it was only 5km to the end. I put my head down and started marching. And then I started to cry. 

I didn’t want to cry at the end. I wanted people to think I was cool and casual, not overwhelmed by what we had done. I don’t want people to think I am ‘girly’ or ‘weak’. So I cried on my own. the irony of this is that crying doesnt make you weak - it helps you remain strong. I know this now - I couldn’t compute it at the time.  

Vertebrae from a whales spine, the skeleton coast. 

I kept on marching, I wanted to see the things I had come to see. The whale bones that litter the skeleton coast. Old wine bottles, washed up from ships that met their fate here. I saw a lot of it. Jackals coming out of their holes to chase down baby seals. Pieces of wood and metal from vessels long gone. It was bleak, astonishing and humbling. A world lost in sand and time. 

Wine bottles in the sand 

Then, in the distance, I see it. The wreck of the Eduard Bohlen. He has sat there since 1909 when he was wrecked in thick fog. The Bohlen completely symbolises the loneliness of the Skeleton Coast. It’s remains lie rusting in the sand, partially buried. A home for jackals, bones of their prey scattered around the hull.  A symbol of the possible future of mankind. Once full of wonder and promise - now a wreck forgotten and alone. It’s a lot for me to think about. I think about how transient everything is. 

Whale bones hidden in sand

Whale bones covered in sand. Wreck of the Bohlen in the background.

I try and run, but my brain tells me no. I am done. Exhausted. I take in what is going on around me and march it in. Nothing here but the remnants of a once promising and golden future, that the people of the 1900’s would have been proud of. Old glass bottles against dead whale bones. All preserved, but meaning nothing now to the people they once meant the world to. 

But I’ve done it. I have fucking done it. I have become the first woman to cross the Namib Desert on this course from east to west. I hold it together, but the team form an arch with their hands, and I run through it. It’s over. They know I have been crying, they just don't say it. 

An emotional little Bailoid tries to hold it together...

The finish line

I am given a beer, and I take a minute to calm myself down. The feelings that I have are not really for writing here, mainly because I don't know how to write them. I am both proud and empty, I have forgotten the hard bits. 127 miles through one of the most hostile environments on earth. I am tired, so tired.  Race to the Wreck. I have done it. 

Knackered

Ghost ship.

Time is running out to leave - we have a 7 hour drive out of here. I don't have much time to get myself together. I eat lunch, have a quick run around the wreck and wish I could stay here for a week investigating it all.  We get in the fun bus. We’re all very, very quiet. The drive back is one of the scariest thing about this trip. The fun bus going up and down dunes at what feels like vertical angles is terrifying. We pass a dead humpback whale on the shoreline, more wrecks, dead seals and hopeful jackals. It takes seven hours of driving across those dunes, but then, suddenly, we hit tarmac and we are back in the human world. 

Thats what a dead humpback whale looks like then...

More wrecks on the way out

Some casual driving on the way back..... FFS

We have one night in a hotel before we fly to Cape Town the following day. This journey is not over. One days travel and then its Man vs Table Mountain (or the Cape Town Three Peaks Challenge of Death as I have snappily renamed it). And that’s before we travel to Panama to attempt the double traverse in a journey that fundamentally changes everything for me.

So thanks for reading the first instalment of this ridiculous trip. If you want more info on the race it’s on sale now and I am happy to talk to  anyone about it - just get me on the website or social media. 

Next up on the blog: Man Vs Table Mountain

THANK YOU….. 

RAT RACE CREW

Massive thanks to Jim and Rob and the whole team at Rat Race for once again trusting me to trial one of their ridiculous ideas. This is a hard event, a really hard event, but totally achievable and I am honoured to have been part of the Test Pilot team and hope I have done you proud. I would recommend this to anyone who has ever sought to do more than just a desert multi-day. This is the real deal - an immersion in culture and a world first. And it’s on sale now, kids! Click here for details.

Thanks to Dani Brodie for representing the female side of endurance challenges with me - this was her first ever multi-day event - no pressure then, throw yourself in at the deep end why not? She handled it with style and enthusiasm, and in the end totally nailed the whole route. A total pleasure to be with, she provided some much needed female company on those nights round the brai, and I am so glad I got to spend this time with her. 

Handsome Pete Rees for making me laugh with his fear of pretty much everything, his health and safety lectures (NO IBUPROFEN BEFORE FOOD!) and providing us with top notch pictures and video that makes us look a lot more epic than we actually are. 

Lastly thanks to Darren - my adventure husband. It really is like being married - we constantly bicker and don’t sleep with each other. Magical. Darren - I know I can be an annoying rat, and so thanks for putting up with me and my stupid voices.  It’s good to know I have a constant to talk to when things get horrible and your support means the world. 

SUPPORT CREW

Eternal thanks to the crew put together by David Scott who runs Sandbaggers. Without their local and in depth knowledge of the Namib, we would never have made it. Without the expertise of the drivers, the trucks could not have made the journey over the dunes, carrying our supplies, tents and bags. I’ll be honest, some of those climbs in the car were touch and go….. and who the hell tries to run over an Ostrich? MONSTERS LIKE YOU, THAT’S WHO. 

[my-sweet-pea]

Who Are You? - Part 1

I’ve never written anything before so I would love some constructive criticism. I know it feels kind of rushed, but I was hoping to do just a couple chapters (if anyone even wants more, that is). I find Y/N kinda distracting, so for now, no one has said the first person character’s name. Let me know what you think in the comments or a message!

Warnings: someone drugs a girl but then runs away, some swearing

Part 1  /  Part 2  /  Part 3 /  Part 4

I’d never really been one for parties. I don’t like the way my heart beats funny when the bass is turned way up. I don’t like getting drunk and making a fool out of myself. I don’t really enjoy seeing my friends turn into fools. I’d never been one to hit up a party just because a boy might be going. And I especially hated crowded parties.

Yet here I am, I thought morosely.

It was still fairly early in the night, but that hadn't stopped everyone I know from devolving into drinking- and sex-fuelled monsters. I glanced around the room at the dancing and gyrating kids from Southside High. I held my red solo cup full of lukewarm beer to my lips momentarily. This was my best defense against the ever-present “fun police” who made sure that everyone was having their preferred version of a good time. I had only taken two sips since I arrived, but no one noticed as long as I kept moving the cup every few minutes.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I carefully slid it out of the ridiculously skinny pocket on my skin-tight jeans. I assumed it was probably one of my friends at the party, trying to find out where I was. There were too many bodies pressed together to really be able to see any distance. To my surprise, a number I didn’t recognize flashed across my screen. I hesitated momentarily before answering the call. It could be a wrong number, or it might be someone from some business calling to see if I needed their services.

“‘Llo?” I yelled over the music, welcoming the distraction from staring into my cup for the rest of the night.

“Hey, can you come to the front door? Your friend needs you,” a deep voice asked.

My eyebrows shot way up in surprise.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” I demanded, feeling unsure.

“Just come now!” He said aggressively before hanging up.

I stared at my phone for a moment. Did that person even mean to call me? I started weaving my way through the crowd towards the front door, just in case. A little mystery to distract me from the boring party couldn’t hurt.

After a few minutes of pushing through gyrating bodies, I finally reached the door. I look around, trying to find anyone I might know who also seemed to be looking around for me. As I scanned, my eyes fell upon one of my best friends, draped across the arms of a tall, dark Serpent. I recognized Sweet Pea from school. Everyone knew Sweet Pea for his antics. But why was Genevieve with him? We always kept to ourselves, hanging back in our pack of friends for protection. Genevieve, in particular, was generally terrified of the Serpents.

I quickly shoved a drunk boy who was weaving too close to my face for comfort, striding past him with determination. I tapped Sweet Pea on his shoulder, anger and fear for my friend making me far bolder than I had ever been before. I hadn’t so much as said hi to this intimidating boy before, but if he was messing with my friends, he was going to be in for a world of hurt.

“Hey! Sweet Pea!” I yelled, my face less than a foot from his ear in an effort to be heard over the music. “What the fuck are you doing with my friend?”

Up close, Gen looked even worse. I honestly didn’t think that she was even conscious. I reached for her, brushing her hair back from her closed eyes. She didn’t move.

Sweet Pea turned to me, a grim expression on his face. He leaned down towards my ear. His breath whispered across my cheek as he said, “She had a lot to drink, and then I noticed someone slip something in her next drink. It took me too long to get to her and she’d already chugged it. Her pulse is fine. She's just unconscious."

He pulled back, looking concerned as well as grim now.

Realization dawned on me as he spoke.

“You called me?”

“Yeah, I got your number from her phone. She needs help but I didn’t want to just leave with her and have her think I did something to hurt her.”

I must have looked surprised. He frowned at me and said angrily, “Or I could just leave right now and let you clean up this mess. Why weren’t you with her?”

I crossed my arms and coolly replied, “They all ditched me as soon as we arrived. I’ve just been staying in one place so she could find me again when she was ready to leave. And when did you become the perfect best friend all of a sudden? I thought you ate people for breakfast.” As I spoke, I got louder and angrier. “Now give her to me. Thank you for saving her and for your help but you don’t need to stand there and judge me. It’s not like she was alone. We came with 3 other girls.”

His face went blank as I yelled at him. Thankfully the music was still extremely loud, so he could probably barely hear me anyways. When I had finished my rant, I reached out and attempted to take Gen out of his arms. His strong arms refused to let go, and I ended up just pressing my arms against his leather-bound chest, standing far closer to him than I would have liked.

“Well, no one has ever accused me of being too nice, but either way, I’m going to drive you guys to the hospital,” he calmly explained when I was done struggling.

I stepped back, surprised and intrigued by his out of character attitude. Nonetheless, I said, “I don’t need you to drive us. I have my car here.”

“I’m not letting you drive in your condition.”

My eyebrows crawled up my forehead slowly as I seethed. “I’ve had two sips of beer over a couple of hours. I think we’ll be fine.”

He pursed his lips, drawing my attention to them. They were gorgeous lips. I stared at them for a second too long, mentally tracing the outline, before I jerked my eyes back to his.

“Fine,” he finally said, sounding annoyed, “but at least let me help you to the car.”

I nodded begrudgingly before we made our way out onto the front porch. I led the way to my car as I shot a quick text to the other 3 girls we’d arrived with. They wouldn’t need to worry about a ride home as the South Side wasn’t very large, and if they stuck together, they’d be fine. 

Just like they should have stuck together with Gen. I worried about what had happened. That was probably part of the reason why I was snapping at Sweet Pea so quickly. He honestly seemed to want to help, as confusing as that was.

We reached my car and I opened the passenger door so Sweet Pea could deposit Gen in the seat. He set her inside, making sure her feet were tucked in before he closed the door. He turned to me slowly, his normal blank, bored expression back in place.

“Thank you again,” I said in a rush. “I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch. I’m just worried and defensive.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “I get it. It’s scary to think what some horrible people are willing to do to others.”

He hesitated for an instant before he continued. “I’m sorry I was rude too. It’s hard to keep an eye on all the people you care about at a party.”

I was astonished. Sweet Pea was full of surprises tonight. I knew that I didn’t actually know him at all, but his reputation was widely known, and everyone knew what little you could expect from him in a general situation. I stood there, staring up into his face thoughtfully, trying to figure out what was going on. He stared back at me, that stupid, blank expression staying effectively in place.

“You know, I might just accuse you of being too nice yet,” I whispered.

He watched me carefully as I walked around to the driver’s side. His inscrutable expression was infuriating but I was proud of myself for not just cowering in fear before the tall Serpent boy. It was definitely easier when he didn't act like the aggressive showman he usually portrayed at school. It also probably helped that I could still feel the adrenaline coursing through me from seeing Gen dangling unconscious in his arms. I still didn't really understand what had possessed him to help Gen in the first place. I was surprised he hadn't just tracked down the person who drugged her and then beaten the shit out of them. I paused as I reached for the door handle, my eyes narrowed at that thought.

"Hey Sweet Pea...are you going��back to the party now?" I asked cautiously.

He raised one of his thick black eyebrows at me. "I was planning to. Why?"

"You're not going to start something with the guy who drugged her, right? That's for the cops to handle. I'm going to see if Gen is comfortable with pressing charges when she wakes up, and I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

His inscrutable expression slipped for a second, and he smiled at me smugly. "You're worried about me?"

"Well, yeah, I don't want you to get arrested because you were being a Good Samaritan." I could feel myself blushing at his insinuating tone.

Sweet Pea hesitated and then nodded once. "Yeah, I'll just stare at him a lot so he knows that I saw him. I think he already got the message when he saw me pushing through the crowd. That's probably why he bolted."

He looked me up and down, much slower than I felt comfortable with. I was wearing my friends’ clothing due to their instance that my clothes weren’t party-appropriate. I wasn’t used to being seen wearing a see-through top and skin-tight pants. My previous blush hadn't even faded yet, but I was already blushing some more. My face felt like it would spontaneously combust at any moment. I squirmed under his scrutiny. He smiled wolfishly.

"Don't you worry. I'll be in touch. You can let me know if you need me to give a statement or something." He laughed. "That would be the first time I ever enter the police station without wearing handcuffs."

I smiled, imagining the looks on the cops' faces if Sweet Pea waltzed in to testify on someone else's behalf. Maybe he wouldn't be the most reliable witness in their eyes, but I didn't really care. He had seen what had happened, and I was discovering that he is actually a real person beneath his school facade. I knew that the Serpents weren’t as bad as some people believed. That didn’t mean that I ever messed with them, but they weren’t like the Ghoulies; they were more of a violent and loving family.

"Well, you have my number, and I have yours. I’ll let you know,” I said, feeling butterflies flit through my stomach.

I have Sweet Pea's number...and I'll probably have to talk to him, I thought to myself in awe. What a strange world. I didn’t want to think too hard about why I felt so excited by the idea of texting him.

I said some more thank yous and a quick goodnight before getting into my car. Sweet Pea leaned against the side, waiting for me to roll down my window. He smiled into my eyes, the full power of his genuine smile almost knocking me over.

"Take care of her. And of yourself. Call me if you need help at the hospital."

I was astonished, but I tried my best not to show it because he might be insulted. I slowly nodded, not sure if I could trust my voice. Quickly whipping into gear, I sped off down the road towards the Riverdale General Hospital. When I glanced in the rearview mirror, I could see Sweet Pea standing on the road, watching us go.

Part 1  /  Part 2  /  Part 3 /  Part 4

[ash-lee-can]

Along The Road (Chapter 6)

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Pairings: Richonne, Shane/Andrea

Rating: PG-13

A/N: I know some people don’t read on fanfiction.net, so here’s the latest chapter on here...

This fic is not Beta'd therefore all mistakes are mine...

Chapter 6

The air was freezing, but they could only feel it on their faces as they were all heavily clothed everywhere else. Their footsteps gave a soft crunch as Michonne and her friends stepped on fresh fallen snow in the backyard of Shane and Andrea's home. It was the same backyard that she, Rick and Shane goofed around in for years in their teens, back when Shane's parents owned it. The backyard felt like it was only type of backyard of that size you'd see in the South without costing you a fortune. Just simply the norm.

It was a bizarre feeling seeing her old friends again. The first was Glenn, pregnant Maggie, who was waddling through due to her sizable belly, and their son Hershel, also known as JR, coming up to the front steps. She thought back to when Glenn was just that young, cute, awkward pizza boy who was always the one to deliver the food when she and Andrea, who were grown, practicing lawyers, having their Girls Night In with the young, fiesty, college girl, Maggie. Watching how they interacted now, she would have thought that they were that old couple with a life time of forever love you'd see in the commercials. They reminded her of her grandparents.

There was a woman named Carol with her college freshman daughter, Sophia. Michonne met her when she defended her in a case against the murder of her husband. It was a case of self defense against the abusive bastard and Michonne was determined to make sure she got off. Rick had called her up as soon as the woman was arrested at the scene. Michonne had already defended Shane, who was beating him for using "excessive force" towards that same man the year before when they had answered a 911 call and had to break up a "domestic dispute" against the two. The whole town knew the what was happening, but most of them stood by, not wanting to interfere in someone's marriage which resulted in bloodshed. Rick, secretly, asked for her help. Michonne was not about to let that woman rot for that monster's deserving demise. The woman and her daughter had no family therefore Rick and Shane decided to make them her family, her daughter even becoming Carl's best friend. She had become a woman of strength that had risen from her struggle and pain, providing for the life that both she and her daughter deserved.

There was Sasha and Tyrese. The latter was a former professional football player for the Miami Dolphins. He moved from retirement central to Atlanta after he was forced to retire himself after a bad injury in his five year career. With his younger sister planning to move to Atlanta, big brother decided to tag along. Andrea bonded with Sasha with their secret love for The Spice Girls, while Shane became fascinated becoming friends with a NFL player into becoming genuine friends. Michonne met them at a funeral a few years ago and got to know them both at the wake. Although Tyrese was the famous NFL player, Sasha was a hero back where they were from saving a supposedly doomed orphanage in a fire. Michonne determined that Tyrese was the protective teddybear and that Sasha was the headstrong woman of determination.

Aaron and his boyfriend, Eric, showed up. Andrea and Michonne met Aaron after the Westboro Baptist Church got off from criminal charged when they bombed his well community center, when they learned of his sexuality in Atlanta years ago. The duo were outraged by the outcome after following the high profiled case, contacted him, offered their services to him, and convinced him to sue for defamation, which would help financially with the damages. The duo won of course and stayed friends with him ever since. Andrea continues to work as his main lawyer since Michonne moved to France.

She didn't know Tara and Rosita before today. Andrea told her that Tara had lost her dad, sister and niece to a very messy, tragic car accident in Atlanta. Tara, who was fresh out of the police, was on duty to the messy pile up on the highway when she discovered her family's demise and left for a smaller town as a deputy. It amazed Michonne how someone who'd experience such tragedy could still live the life as a goofball. The King's County Police Department took the young one under their wings and made her family. Her girlfriend Rosita was a mechanic, who Tara first met when she took her sister's car to get fixed one day as a way to heal her grieving. They hit it off immediately, turning from fast best friends into something more.

She looked over to loner redneck Daryl Dixon. She was still amazed that they'd became friend considering that the family he'd come from. She'd never forget the way his older brother would assault her with racial remarks. Daryl was always stuck right behind him, always reading to jump in and fight by his brother's side, despite never engaging in the verbal combat, at least not towards her in particular for whatever reason, even though she was sure had with others. When Merle got locked up, again, Rick helped him come into his own. Sure Daryl would never become a cop considering his family's history with them, but there was something he could do. He found a way to better himself and his situation. By the time the old man, who owned the autoshop he and Merle worked in for years passed away, he'd saved up enough money to purchase the business. It was the same autoshop Rosita worked at. When she saw him again years back, she almost couldn't believe that he was the same. He had his brother's temper every now and again, and every now and again would find himself into trouble for getting ahead of himself and stubborness, but he seemed genuine when it came to wanting helping people and overall in a better place compared to where he used to be when they were kids.

Then there was the Grimes family. Michonne's mind went back to that morning, when she ended up to being treated to alone with adorable, scruffy bearded Rick Grimes...

Early That Morning

The aroma of Southern cooking invaded her nostrils as she once again woke in the semi-familiar surroundings. With the smell of such deliciousness, and the Christmas Eve feast she had the night before, she just knew that she was going put on a few pound just from stay there.

She glanced at her side in the bed and saw her son, Andre, still sleeping soundly with his light snores. She slowly climbed out of bed and headed for the bedroom door. She didn't know what to expect when she stepped into the living, but the sight taken her aback.

On the pullout couch Carl hanging on off one side of the the pullout bed, face down, most likely drooling, still wearing his boots and on top of the comforter that was there. He had gone out to hang, most likely party, with friends after dinner and must had come back late while everyone was still sleeping. She remembered the days where after going out late at night to party with with Shane and Rick in their younger days and sneaking back into her grandparents house before dawn so they wouldn't know she was out all night drinking cheap beer and dancing the night away.

Next to him was little Judith cuddled up into her big brother, almost using him as some form of a blanket, despite the comforter that she was under. Carl's arm was wrapped around her adorableness in a natural instinctive protective way. Maybe he was a security blanket? Maybe she was just reading too much into it? Either way, her heart warmed at and made her give a soft smile at the sight. She didn't imagine having any more children, but if she did, she can imagine her son doing the same to his younger sibling.

Then there was Rick, laying on the other side of the bed, just snoring. It wasn't obnoxious sounding, but it was definitely louder than what her son was doing in the guest room. She chuckled at how cute it was. She used to hate when Mike would snore in her ear and but for some reason the snoring sound in the room wasn't bothering her.

Still slightly tired, and not wanting to disturb the sleeping family, she headed for the kitchen to see if she find some caffeine. Hopefully there was some herbal tea she liked and not just coffee. Also it was too early in the day for delicious hot chocolate.

She walked into the cozy kitchen to various pots simmering and the oven baking. There wasn't anyone in sight overseeing the cooking, which unnerved her, until she spotted the note on the refrigerator.

'Shane said I forgot to pick up some stuff,

so we need to find a store that's open so

we can get it real quick. We'll be back

hopefully soon.

-Andrea

P.S. Check on the damn food!

-Shane'

She could imagine the debate between the two of them at like three in the morning about the food. Andrea , honestly, wasn't much of a cook. It was decent, but very basic. Shane was someone who took much pride in his cooking. He used say that his older brother Negan would tell him that, "A way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but a way into a woman's panties is the high skill level of working a skillet!" As a shirt chaser, it was a skill that Shane took seriously and tried to master as much as he possibly could, starting from Michonne's own grandmother. When they dated in their early teens, he tried to win her grandmother over by taking cooking lessons from her at the Dinner Bell diner. He took pride in his over 25 years of culinary work. And there wasn't a woman who didn't appreciate his efforts, then he wouldn't even bother and further.

The aroma of the delicious food over came her. There was no way she wasn't going to take a peek. She lifted a lid on one pot, a steam of Southern ecstacy invaded her lungs and pores. She saw a pot of cooking collard green with ham hocks just simmering away and her mouth began to water. She slowly lowered her hand in the pot of a taste-

"Checking the food right?"

She clamped the lip back onto the pot as the unexpected voice startled her. She glances behind her to see Rick standing on the other end of the kitchen, freshly woken with his messy loose curls and scruffy beard, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, along with an unexpected imprint against the pants she wasn't expecting to see at that very moment.

She looked up to realize that he giving her a playful smirk. She had only looked down below for a half a second but, did he notice? After a couple a seconds of slight panic, she realized that he amusement was from her food thieving. Not perving eyes.

She nervously smiled back to cover her unexpected nerves. "Well, figured I'd take a peek since Shane and Andy left out."

Rick scratched the back of his curls, still waking up. "Let me guess. Andrea forgot something, again?"

"Seems like."

They stared at each other in silence, both unsure what to say next. Then Michonne remembered the reason she came in the kitchen in the first place.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know if they have any tea?"

Rick perked up and walked over to her. "Yeah. Let me grab that for you." He squeezed through between her and the wall, holding onto her side for a second, to reach the top in the cabinet above one the counter she was next to. She jolted a little bit when his front accidentally brushed against her backside. This was not how she was planning on spending her morning.

"Andrea hides it up here when Shane pranked her once by pretending to throw it out once." He pulled down a gallon sized ziplock bag with various types of packaged tea bags and K-Cups and handed over to her. "So you got your green, black, white, chamomile and some other teas I can't remember." Michonne raised an eyebrow at his knowledge of various teas other than diabetically sweet. "Andrea threw away Shane's coffee once and ranted to us about our horrible coffee habits. The prank was in retaliation."

She laughed at the thought. It still amazed her how the two stayed together. Both of them were pretty stubborn people and yet they still worked. "Thanks."

She looked into the bag, spotting the white tea she was hoping for grabbed a coffee mug. She glanced over to Rick, who was pouring himself a cup of leftover coffee that Shane had in the coffee pot. "I guess the 'coffee is bad' rant didn't take huh."

He looked back at her and blushed beneath his thick beard before turning back to his drink. "Old habits die hard I guess."

"Maybe I can do a much better job of convincing you than Andrea could?" Wait! What? She didn't mean for it to come off a flirtatious as she did. Simple friendly banter. Or maybe it was just in her head?

Rick turned around again with his mug in hand. He kept his head down, not looking her in the eye, but she could tell his whole face was a little red now. "We'll see." He headed out of the kitchen, maybe a little quicker than he probably should have.

Michonne groaned to herself in embarrassment. Maybe some nice hot tea will help her get her head straight this morning. Andrea might have been right though. She needed to get laid.

Present Time

Michonne came out of the morning memory as a quick gush of wind pushed against her face a little. She looked ahead and saw the other game players standing around further into the yard, getting ready to pick teams. She looked back onto the back porch to see Andrea, Maggie, Carol, Sophia and Eric sitting down, watching Andrea, Judith and JR play around, ready for the game to start. She hustled to catch up with the rest of them so they could pick teams.

"Alright." Shane, tossing the football to himself in the air, while he addressed everyone. "Rick and I are captains, as usual. Last year's loser go first."

Tyrese, counting everyone, in his head notices something was off. "We don't have an even number though."

Shane smirks a little. "Don't worry. My extra man should be here any moment." Michonne could tell he had something up his thermal sleeves. "Pick first Rick." He tossed the ball to the other captain for his first pick.

Rick caught it easily and carefully scanned the group, looking for the first choice he already decided on.

"Oh fuck you, Grimes!" Shane threw his gloved hands in the air. Rick laughed at the outburst, to everyone's else's confusion. He knew Shane was going to pick Michonne first, but being last year's loser had it's benefits. "It's fine. You two were always against me anyways." As he looked around for his next pick. Just as he was about to call Sasha's name-

"You damn shitheads just couldn't wait for me, could ya?" A loud, male voice carried through the yard as he swaggered through the snow towards him. He was tall and handsome for sure. Michonne almost didn't recognize him, but as he gotten closer, his swagger, voice and that shit eating grin that formed behind that, she recognized that it was Shane's older brother. "Little Ricky's and his toy soldiers are in to get one hell of a Christmas."

A/N: I was originally going to make this chapter and next chapter one long as chapter, but I decided to end it on. I'll try and get the next one up as soon as I can. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I'd like to thank you all for the reviews. If there appears to be any mistakes, let me know so I can can fix them :)...

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

this thing upon me, howls like a beast [2/3] ;

a/n: here’s part 2! Click here for part 1 if you haven’t read it yet! this one’s like twice as long but alas, I could not help it. I took a month to write it for a reason lolz. enjoy!

―

Klaus arrives at their home at exactly 6:45am.

Hayley grinds her teeth together, lets the sound cause her nausea before she breathes in deeply through her nose, and out her mouth. She squints her eyes and tries very hard not to throw him across the room.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses, only slightly opening the door and she’s full on bedhead, unbuttoned pyjama top, that tousled look―

God, Klaus thinks, she’s so beautiful.

“I’m taking Hope to school,” he says, with confidence.

“Who in the world told you to do that?” she asks, while rolling her eyes.

He sighs and looks around the room. It’s quiet, peaceful even. He recognizes Elijah’s ridiculously tall bookshelves that are almost touching the ceiling, Hope’s toys lying on the floor, the smell of cinnamon radiating off of Hayley’s hair.

It all felt like…home.

“I want to help out,” Klaus announces. “I overheard you and Elijah the other day, discussing on getting a babysitter since you both work and you two need someone at home to look after Hope, perhaps I could be of assistance, I―” He stops, looks at again, and notices how she’s getting annoyed with him already. He chuckles humorlessly. Hayley Marshall never was a morning person.

“Okay,” her tone is harsh and intimidating. “Enough yammering,” she orders.

“Does that mean I can help?” he immediately assumes.

She slowly raises her head to meet his gaze. Hayley takes in a sharp breath and blows her hair out of her face when she releases it. She can’t believe she has to explain this to him. Again.

“Why do you want to do this?” his eyes grow a little wide at her question. “Because you feel bad? Look I told you, you have no reason to feel guilty. I chose not to involve you, it’s not like you knew about her,” she whispers, making sure that no one hears.

Still, he is as stubborn as ever. Klaus decides he’ll use the softest tone he’s ever mastered. Because, surely, he had grown kinder over these passed few years.

“I just want to be there for her,” he admits, without hesitation. “That’s all,” he shrugs.

She studied his features and attempts to detect any sense of malice or dishonesty. But, she sees nothing. She wants to hate him for it. She can’t even remember the last time she saw him looking so pathetic.

(Oh wait she does, he looked at her in the very same way on her wedding night).

“Fine,” she finally gives in. “You can drop her off at school, but that’s it. I still want to find a real babysitter,” Hayley voices, in a rather serious tone.

He nods before he leaves with a satisfied look on his face.

―

Hope Marshall is truly the smartest little girl Klaus has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

He adjusts the car mirror and spies her looking out the window and waving goodbye to her mother. She’s always in these boyish clothes, blue jean overalls and a loose tee and never forgets her favorite sneakers that light up. Klaus knows that Hope prefers her monster trucks over her Barbie dolls. Knows that she’s afraid of the blow up things in front of gas stations, knows that she doesn’t like the smell of coffee. But loves the scent of a nice cup of licorice tea.

He knows because that’s his favorite tea. He chuckles, figuring that at least she got something from him.

“You know,” Hope says while he drives. “All these random visits you’re making are starting to get pretty suspicious,” she slowly comes to that conclusion, sitting on the edge of her seat, wondering what he’s going to say.

“What random visits?” Klaus quips.

“Well first,” she speaks softly, with a finger on her chin. “There was that time you came by during dinner, then when you claimed you ‘forgot’ your coat, and now you’re dropping me off at school!” Hope exclaims.

He laughs again, unable to meet her wit.

“I assure you, sweetheart,” he sings. “That those are all just coincidences,” Klaus attempts to convince her by sounding casual. But the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips and glimmer in his eyes gives him away.

“You expect me to believe that?” Hope questions.

He leans back in his chair, smirking. “What’s your theory?” Klaus wonders.

“You like my mom,” she tells him, with a large grin. “It’s pretty obvious,” Hope mindlessly mumbles, catching him off-guard.

He gazes onto the on-coming traffic, exhales loudly when he realizes that this was going to be a long ride. Although, he does look forward to spending quality time with Hope. And that thought alone allows a smile to creep back on to his face.

“You’re strangely well-adjusted to that idea, aren’t you?” he smugly tells her, reminding her that her mother is married, to his brother no less.

“What can I say?” Hope shrugs instead. “I’m an adaptable child,” she whispers.

He throws his head back in laughter.

“That you are, little one,” Klaus agrees.

He turns on the radio while he reverts his focus back on her, and how she just simply goes back to staring out the window. He wonders what’s going on in that little head of hers.

―

Hayley washes the dishes,

―and every other inch of their house.

She needs distractions, and cleaning is as good of a distraction as anything else.

You see, her life had become so ordinary, filled with such mundane activities. She’s got her husband her kid, her job at the local bank. She comes home from her nine-to-five, cooks and cleans, helps Hope with her homework, tucks her in, sleeps next to Elijah―

It’s all so very…boring.

(But, this is what she wanted, isn’t it?)

―

Klaus comes by almost every morning to get Hope.

And each time, she’s more and more eager. Hayley doesn’t know what kind of sugary drinks or sweets Klaus is feeding to get her so riled up whenever she sees him. But, whatever it is, it sure is working. Deep down though, she’s probably aware that her daughter is just as attached to him as she thought she’d be.

When she sees Hope with her father, her heart does that weird tumble. And it’s loud…louder than its ever been quite honestly.

―

She needs a break from it all. From all the normalcy that is her life.

So, she goes to a bar. There’s dancing and music and sweaty college kids behaving like animals all around her. And she looks back to see a couple sharing a smoke in the corner, and she remembers for a brief moment, that once upon a time, that was her.

Careless and young and so fucking in love.

“So this is where you’re hiding,” a voice sneaks up behind her, and she’s not surprised to see Klaus Mikaelson, of all people, offering her a glass of cold water.

“I’m not hiding,” she begins, sounding already drunk enough to pass out. “I’m getting a drink, flirting with…what’s your name again?” she points to the bartender, looking rather confused.

He rolls his eyes as he cleans a glass. “Marcel,” he reminds her.

“Oh right!” she exclaims, taking another big sip of her beer.

Klaus sees the bartender making eyes at her. He’s never been one to tolerate anyone hitting on Hayley. Even after all this time, the mere fact that another man was even looking at her still managed to get under his skin.

Call him possessive, if you must. Either way, someone should really consider naming a pathological condition after him.

“Hands off mate,” Klaus orders Marcel. “She’s married,” he sings, pointing to the big fat diamond on her ring finger.

“Do you have to ruin my fun?” Hayley sighs. “I wasn’t gunna sleep with him,” she specifies, and her head unintentionally (intentionally?) falls on his shoulder.

He can tell she’s doing pretty bad, other wise, she wouldn’t dare let her guard down around him. “You’re wasted,” he says. “What’s wrong? Is marriage not all it’s cracked up to be?” Klaus wonders.

Her jaw tightens slightly before she answers him.

“You’ll be happy to know that my life is pretty dull right now,” she mumbles softly, nuzzling her head into the fabric of his sweater. It smelled so…familiar. Of smoke and strawberries and the boy she used to love.

“After all that commotion at your wedding, you’re still…unhappy?” He asks, sounding like a total pest.

She doesn’t need to be reminded that her life is a string of unfortunate events, leading up to absolute nothingness.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happy, to be honest,” she admits.

He centers his gaze on her eyes, the way she looks up at him is almost too reminiscent of before.

“C’mon now, that’s not true,” Klaus attempts to console her. “I’ve seen the way you smile at your daughter, you don’t call that happiness?” he mentions.

“And look at where I am now,” she meets his match, frowning. “I’m a shit mom,” she realizes.

It takes every ounce of self control in him to stop himself from kissing her. To stop himself from holding her in his chest and telling her that everything’s gunna be okay. “Now, I don’t know much about parenting love, but I do know that you’ve raised Hope to be a smart, strong, and independent little girl,” he says instead. “And last I checked, ‘shit moms’ don’t do that,” he offers, with a small laugh.

And she wants to tell him that she’s relieved to hear that from him. That his opinion matters to her the most because he’s turning out to be a not-so-shit dad. That’s more than she’s ever wanted from him.

“Marcel, another round of shots?” Hayley orders, while avoiding Klaus’ gaze.

(Maybe she’ll tell him those things some other time).

―

She falls asleep in his couch, listening to old music and the sound of pouring rain.

He’s always going to be there. Whether she wants him, whether she doesn’t want him. He’s always going to protect her. And she was going to have to accept that, at some point in her life. Otherwise, he’d just keep coming back to her, right when she needs him most.

(It’s not really a secret or anything, but she’s going to keep this thought to herself; she likes having him around).

―

And she wakes up to the smell of pancakes, of chocolate chip muffins, of coffee and cigarettes.

“Breakfast?” he tells her, like it’s the most obvious thing.

She shakes his blanket off of her and joins him in the kitchen. “Since when do you cook?” Hayley questions.

“I took lessons a few years ago,” Klaus informs her. “I figured if I’d be living on my own, I might as well learn how to feed myself,” he smiles.

It hits her right then and there, that this is the first time he’s ever cooked anything for her. Back when they were together, their breakfasts consisted of beer and weed. And now, here he is, a chef in the making.

“You’ve changed a lot, since before,” she mentions.

“My dear,” he calls her, like she’s his. “We must all grow up someday,” Klaus says, serving her some pancakes.

Hayley takes her time to observe his environment. His bachelor’s pad is a total mancave. With clothes hanging over chairs, and scribbled phone numbers from random girls on his fridge, she guesses that some things remain the same.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly confesses. “For not telling you about Hope, I never apologized for doing that to you,” Hayley goes on to say.

“It’s alright sweetheart,” he assures her. “After all, I was a different man back then,” he honestly says.

“I just didn’t think this could ever be us, you know? I mean, you in the kitchen, making breakfast? Us having a peaceful meal together? This feels like a joke,” her hands are unsteady as she speaks, shaking uncontrollably while she struggles to rationalize their current situation.

“I know,” he finally breaks the silence. “We weren’t good for each other before, but now―”

“Klaus,” she cuts him off. “No, it’s too late for that now,” she says, after taking exactly seven breaths before rejecting him, once again.

He doesn’t back down though, not after he’s come so far.

“Just hear me out,” Klaus stammers. “If five, ten, even twenty years from now, if you decide you want to try things again,” he stops when he notices a small tear rolling down one side of her face.

She might not be as brilliant with words as he is, but this was her life. And, as charming as he is, she wasn’t going to let anyone else control it.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” Hayley exclaims. “I’m married, to your brother no less,” she reminds him.

“But you’re not happy,” he points out. “And maybe I can’t be half as noble as ‘Lijah but I’ll be damned if I went down without a fight,” his tone is strong and resilient. He’s been waiting long enough, silently and from a distance.

This time, he thinks, he’s going to win her back. Even if he has to come out of it covered in claw marks. She’s going to be his.

“Thank you for the offer,” she says before leaving.

And she vows that this is the last time she’d allow him to get so close to her heart.

―

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey!!! 😇 I have read like all fics on your coming out tag page, when you have time can you update them? Today It's my one year anniversary of coming out!!! ☺️☺️☺️ -B

Happy Belated Anniversary! Sorry it’s a little late but we’re so happy we could celebrate with you! Here’s the tag for everyone else. - Anastasia

Taking Bets by S_Horne

(1/1 I 406 I General I Sterek)

“Dad, Mel” Stiles started. “I'm gay.”

With a sudden boost of confidence, Stiles reached a hand out to take a hold of one of Derek's.

“And this is my Derek” he continued, turning his face to meet the other’s gaze.

/

Stiles has a confession for his parents, and they have one for him!

Dream a Little Dream of Me by 42hrb

(1/1 I 830 I Teen I Stanny)

Coach pairs Stiles and Danny in a hotel for a lacrosse trip, it turns out they have some stuff to talk about.

About Damn Time by fancyachatup

(1/1 I 903 I General I Sterek)

It's essentially Teen Wolf, except that there are such things as soulmates.

Deal? by fancyachatup

(1/1 I 921 I General I Sterek)

Only Peter is evil and it's for like 1 sentence. +Basically Sheriff answers a domestic violence call and Stiles hits on Derek while simultaneously coming out.

The Person He Loved In So Many Different Ways by QueenofCrazy

(1/1 I 1,136 I Not Rated I Sciles)

“Bro.” He whispered, hands gripping his knees and fingers tapping. “Bro you uh, you left your porn up on your laptop that I borrowed for my presentation.” Scott felt his face heat up. He knew what porn Stiles was talking about, how could he be so stupid not to check it before giving it to Stiles.

Sourwolves Do it Better by siao

(1/? I 1,406 I Explicit I Sterek)

In another time, in another place, but not exactly as the story still occurs in the much beloved town of Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski is a quirky (kind way of saying a walking disaster) teenager just trying to figure out his life in the wake of his parents uncommunicated separation, and being the perpetual third-wheel to his power couple friends Lydia and Jackson that makes him question if their friends because they happened to have playdates in the e-old age or because their parents gave them no choice but to be friends.

And yeah, maybe having sex with a complete stranger in the supply closet at school wasn't his brightest idea - sue him, but how was he supposed to know that his one time fling that he wanks since forth was his English teacher?

Throw in teenage werewolves, alphas, hunters and some kind of demon tree that may or may not be trying to seduce him into being evil and what you got is a whirlwind romance that's not quite legal but profound all the same.

Two Hearts in One Home by TheMipstaz

(1/1 I 1,851 I Explicit I Malia/Kira)

In which Kira bakes 11 pies.

Silver and Cold by inatshej

(1/1 I 2,044 I Mature I Steter)

Stiles admits to himself finally that it is cold, quiet and lonely. It didn't change when he met Peter, but at least he could forget about it. Somehow the thing with Peter ends up hurting him even more.

And The Oscar Goes To by 42hrb

(1/1 I 2,241 I Teen I Sterek)

Being publicly in the closet means Stiles can't go to the Academy Awards with who he really wants, but it's not like he's going to win so he doesn't have to worry about slipping up and thanking Derek in his speech... right?

Outed by smokesforsterek

(1/1 I 2,419 I General I Sterek)

Nancy O’Dell was standing on her chic set but in the background on one of the set pieces was a obviously zoomed in and blurry picture of Derek and Stiles kissing on the beach.Fuck.

or the one where Derek and Stiles are famous and secretly dating, and are caught. So naturally the only thing to do is pretend they're making a movie.

Heavy Is The Head by tragicama

(1/? I 2,574 I Explicit I Sterek)

Heir Prince of France, Derek Hale is tired of his royal life.

When he meets a palace servant named Stiles, everything changes.

Or, the one where Derek falls in love with his own Prince Charming.

Awake by reillyblack

(1/1 I 3,441 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles was too goddamn old for a sexual awakening.

Never Been Subtle by totallyrandom

(2/2 I 3,886 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has something important to tell Scott, but Scott’s not making it easy.

Green Beer and the Howling Wolf by TVTime

(1/1 I 4,152 I Teen I Stisaac)

Stiles, Isaac, and Scott go out drinking for St. Patrick’s Day and Stiles discovers that his hopeless crush on Isaac may not be as hopeless as he thought.

Stiles-centric/Stiles POV, dialogue-heavy college AU story with no powers. Primarily humor with some fluff and Stisaac romance. Alternate character histories. Isaac is Scott's adopted brother.****Stiles held his arms out and turned around in a circle. “I look okay right?”

Scott’s face lit with understanding. “Ah, someone wants to get lucky on St. Paddy’s Day.”

Stiles didn’t deny it, just changed the subject – well, technically he didn’t change the subject, but Scott would think it was a change of subject. “So when’s Isaac getting here?”

Trust by live_laugh_murder

(1/1 I 4,436 I Teen I Steo)

Stiles always knew Theo Raeken couldn't be trusted. But he seems to forget that when the werewolf gets under his skin.

Out in the Open by inmydreams

(1/1 I 5,188 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek Hale, successful actor and Oscar winner, is ready to come out and where better to do it than on his boyfriend's chat show?

Indecent Proposal by lavieboheme0919

(1/1 I 5,432 I Explicit I Stetoper)

Peter and Chris have been married since they were in their twenties. Stiles is introduced to the mix after Peter meets him in the showers at the on-campus gym. All of them love the relationship they're in. Unfortunately none of them know how to explain said relationship to Stiles' dad.

This is the first of a series I'll be working on as I work on my other story, "Gods and Monsters." This one will be heavily focused on sex. If I missed any tags, please let me know. As always, comments welcome and encouraged!

Aparecium by GameCake

(1/1 I 5,446 I Teen I Sterek)

“Hey, Derek, look! Aquamenti!” Stiles yelled laughing.

His laugh though was short-lived as his hand tickled the same time as water shot out of the tip of his fake wand?

What?

“Whatever you did, wherever you found it, put it back!” Derek ordered flashing his alpha crimson eyes.

“Do you really think it is a good idea to leave it here unattended? What if a kid takes it? What if someone said ‘Avada Kedavra’” Stiles defended as he flayed his arms around.

That proved to be another bad choice. His hand buzzed again and lightning escaped the wand and stuck an innocent tree. Which immediately cracked and started decaying to the point that it looked sick and… well… dead.

There were a few bits of silence after that until Derek spoke up. “That’s it! Put it back now.”

*

Or the one where Stiles finds a wand that responds to Harry Potter spells, is apparently a mage and gets a boyfriend out of it.

Don't hate me for who I am by AnnSnape

(2/6 I 5,649 I Mature I Sterek)

It was Christmas when Stiles pack rejected him for being different and Stiles, who turned for the first time, had to run away from his own pack to survive.

Closeted by stilinski_wolf

(2/2 I 7,483 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek is part of a very rich, very conservative - and very homophobic - family, and so he has to hide who he truly is from them.

And then, Derek takes a liking to the new bartender working at the gay bar he frequents, and contemplates coming out to his family.

But his choice is taken out of his hands when his sister Cora follows him one night to the gay bar, changing Derek's life irrevocably.

wolf in the headlights by thedeathlyalpha

(1/1 I 7,581 I Teen I Scisaac)

When Scott finds out that Derek has added a member to the pack, he can't believe it.

When he discovers who it is, even worse.

As Scott becomes closer to Isaac, feelings develop and the lines blur, making everything just seem so confused.

Getting To Know Me Getting To Know You by alternativename

(3/? I 9,477 I Mature I Steter)

In an Omega verse where Stiles has never really felt comfortable in his own skin, he seeks out the company of other Omegas to help him make sense of the world they live in.

Meeting Peter Hale however was totally unplanned, and so was everything that happened from the moment they met.

And...Action! by defenselesswriter

(5/? I 9,632 I Explicit I Sterek)

"Not looking for casual hookups. Sorry, bro. Most codependent independent person you will ever meet. Part-time actor, full-time asshole who coincidentally preaches positivity. Worst bowler in the world after my best friend. Looking for a guy whose first thought isn’t ‘Can I put my dick in one of his orifices?’ Also super hella bi and might be down for a threesome.”

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes by huffleluff

(1/1 I 21,866 I Teen I Allydia)

If you had asked Allison Argent if she was straight two months ago, she would have said yes. Now, she isn't so sure.

On her eighteen birthday, she receives the name of her soul mate via a mark on her wrist: seventeen year old Lydia Martin. Her sense of identity suddenly gone, Allison must deal with her feelings for her best friend, her preacher father's homophobia, and learning to love herself for who she truly is--preferably before Lydia's eighteenth birthday in just one year's time.

There's Nothing That I Wouldn't Do (I Found My Way Back To You) by SuperMARVELous

(5/5 I 51,051 I Mature I Sterek)

Four times Derek and Stiles pass each other by and the one time they find their way back to each other.

The Payoff Pitch by Leslie_Knope

(12/12 I 83,974 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek is on the cusp of his second season with the LA Dodgers, and as the reigning runner-up Rookie of the Year, the pressure’s on him to become the team’s star pitcher and lead them to the playoffs for the first time in five years. He’s trying to deal with the burden of expectations and really has zero desire to spend any extra time or energy on anything that isn’t baseball.

But then he meets Stiles.

Building a Better Chimera: Part Two by Uthizaar

(21/21 I 200,638 I Explicit I Steo I MCD)

Theo returns to Beacon Hills with the task of guiding and protecting Stiles as he becomes one of the most powerful chimeras alive...Well that was the Dread Doctor's plan. Theo has a different idea, and Stiles fits nicely into it, not merely as a fellow chimera, but as something more. Of course, Stiles not being aware of his abilities is but one small obstacle... 

[suplosers]

That big ol’ questionnaire that’s going around…

I got tagged by @shutyourmoustache, whose blog you should DEFINITELY check out, because she is an amazing cinnamon roll 

rules: answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people.

I tag: @shutyourmoustache, @princeddiana, @conzdezuri, @spideyxchelle, @lightslde, @romanoger-s, @cassandor, @smellycinnamonthundahfudge, @eclecticklutz, @mjwatson, @spider-boy-parker, @lovelyparker, @undoroos, @spideychelle-romanogers, @spideycentral, @accio-azriel, @nerdlove4thewin, @starkquill, @smartenoughtoshutyouup, @i-let-the-tears-fall

the last

1. drink: water

2. phone call: my best friend

3. text message: my best friend

4. song you listened to: Close-up - Zendaya ft. Timbaland 

5. time you cried: a few days ago, because my cat passed away and I still miss hervery  much 🙈

6. dated someone twice:  I would like to get even 1 date, but there might be a problem there as I have turned the last few guys down 😅

7. kissed someone and regretted it: HA! I never kissed anyone 😌 I dont know whether I should be proud about that, but okay 😂

8. been cheated on: they wouldn’t dare

9. lost someone special: yess definitely, also can I count my cat?

10. been depressed: I had a down period in the second to last year of high school, looking back on it, I might have been depressed then

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: yes so that was two months ago at the end of term party of my university, lets just say I will never touch any alcohol again after that 🙈

3 favourite colours

12. dark red

13. gold

14. light blue

in the last year have you

15. made new friends: yess, I have made many new friends on tumblr and in real life that I am super grateful for! A special few already have a big place in my heart and I am excited to make some more awesome memories with them!

16. fallen out of love: nope

17. laughed until you cried: omg all the fucking time 😂

18. found out someone was talking about you: yes, but everybody knows me quite well at university anyway, so she basically put herself down by trying to put me down. I was also really glad to have some great friends around me to support me 

19. met someone who changed you: Yess my two best friends at uni changed me for the better, as they have taught me how to enjoy studying and at the same time balance a social life!

20. found out who your friends are: I always had a very strong sense of who my real friends are and who would back me up no matter what. I am glad to say this sense has never failed me! 

21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: haven’t kissed anyone ever 😉 again not sure whether I should be proud of this fact 😂

general

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: well I have a shit ton of facebook friends, but I never accept friend requests of people I don’t know or haven’t met in real life, so I guess all of them?

23. do you have any pets: I had a cat called Pumpkin, but she passed away recently and it broke my heart as I loved her to bits 😔

24. do you want to change your name: No!! I absolutely love my name 😱 Maybe my last name, but I am pretty sure that will change if I ever get married 😜

25. what did you do for your last birthday: my sisters planned a flight to London and we went on the Universal Studios Harry Potter tour! Needless to say IT WAS AMAZING

26. what time did you wake up: 10:30 a.m.

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: I was probably reading Spideychelle fanfiction 😂

28. name something you can’t wait for: going on holiday to Italy in 2 days!

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: last week, because my parents went to Italy a week earlier 😊

31. what are you listening to right now: Close-up by Zendaya ft. Timbaland. What can I say, I am absolutely obsessed with this song 😅

32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: uhh, probably, I know a few toms, but I haven’t spoken to any of them recently 

33. something that is getting on your nerves: how to not fuck up the html of my blog, as I have been reconstructing it and I have so many questions on how to change it :’)

34. most visited website: Tumblr, Facebook, AO3 and my university website 

35. hair colour: I guess something like dark golden blonde

36. long or short hair: very long

37. do you have a crush on someone: not irl, but dayum I have the biggest crush on Zendaya 😱 

38. what do you like about yourself: I really like my personality and sense of humour and my butt and my hair 

39. piercings: only my ears! But I wear earrings everyday and I have been thinking about getting another ear piercing higher up, so I can wear the pretty earring cuffs

40. blood type: uhh I have been in hospital so many times, but I always forget to ask this 😂

41. nickname: I have so many! But the ones I get called most often are Rella, Ari and Alien soul (by my mum)

42. relationship status: singleee 🙌🏽

43. zodiac: Aries, but the night sky has changed since the 12 signs were originally discovered, which means there are 13 signs now (seriously look it up, its really interesting 😊) So if we are going by that, I am a Pisces

44. pronouns: she/her

45. favourite tv show: god, so many, but I guess Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Brooklyn Nine Nine, Game of Thrones and The Good Place 

46. tattoos: nope, but I am thinking of getting a small one on my ribs on my left side

47. right or left handed: right 

48. surgery: 2 times! My kneecap on my left knee has dislocated 12 times,  and I am really stubborn, so I refused to go to the doctor (I was dancing at the dance academy at that time and having a surgery meant having to stop). So I finished there and then got my operation at 18 years old, but I had to go back to get the screws out, so that’s 2 operations :)

50. sport: I did ballet dancing, hip-hop, modern dancing and streetdance, now I only do the last three and I go to the gym 2 times a week

51. vacation: Italy in 2 days!

52. pair of trainers: uhh I think I have about 5 of those, but I don’t really do trainers, I am more of a heels kind of girl 

GENERAL

53. eating: I ate a sandwich with avocado and I am making dinner now

54. drinking: Water 

55. I’m about to: make dinner

56. waiting for: my food

57. want: my food

58. get married: I definitely want to get married somewhere in the future, but I am really happy by myself and I want to meet the right person!

59. career: student, so I am working on it 😉

WHICH IS BETTER

60. hugs or kisses: HUGS

61. lips or eyes: eyes are much more expressive!

62. shorter or taller: well I have a thing for tall people, but I love being short 😊

63. older or younger: I’m not sure whether this is about dating, but I am into slightly older guys/girls

64. nice arms or nice stomach: doesnt really matter, I just really need to click with the person 😅

65. hookup or relationship: relationship

66. troublemaker or hesitant: I am both

HAVE YOU EVER:

67. kissed a stranger: nope

68. drank hard liquor: yess, damn, I dont drink wine or beer, so it tends to be the only thing I like, but lets just say I definitely regret that now 😂 

69. lost glasses/contact lenses: yess both, I am very chaotic

70. turned someone down: yess I have the tendency to do that 😅

71. sex on the first date: naahh, I ain’t about that stuff, I think its good to wait a while 😅

73. had your heart broken: nope, never really been in love before 

74. been arrested: no, that would probably be the worst thing that could happen to me 😱

75. cried when someone died: yess of course, I’m not a monster 😱 I definitely need to cry and grieve, especially if they were a big part of my life

76. fallen for a friend: noo, like I said, I don’t really get crushes that easily 

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

77. yourself: yess, it keeps me going!

78. miracles: yes

79. love at first sight: maybe, but I haven’t experienced it and I tend to looove slow burns

80. santa claus: no, that got ruined for me at a pretty young age 😂

81. kiss on the first date: sure! I guess that would work, if they are someone you really hit it off with!

82. angels: uhh, I definitely believe that there is something spiritual going on I guess 😅

OTHER:

84. eye colour: like a chocolate light brown

85. favourite movie: SO MANY, Spiderman Homecoming, A Monster Calls, Tangled, Rogue One, Storks, Pride and Prejudice and Cinderella (The one with Whitney Houston and Brandy)