#threatened to burn her with the hot beverage as a 'joke'

[gatheringkeepsakes]

i think it's really significant that Weiss's words we're the last we heard before Ruby - after nine volumes of repression - finally snapped.

[cathrrrine]

Otherworldly | SPN x The Witcher

Originally from my AO3

CHAPTER 2 - If It Isn't The Butcher

----

“She sent us here?”

The three of them were now seated in a tavern, not unlike the bars they were used to, but a little less cleaner than what they preferred.

”Atë sent us here.” Red confirmed. She recalled the conversation she had with her sister.

—

”She’s not here for games. She’s here to destroy the world.”

Red turned to her sister, Natalia, who looked as disheveled as an unattended child; hair messy, bags under her eyes, food staining her shirt and crumbs from the sandwich she ate before stuck at the edges of her mouth. She hadn’t showered or eaten properly for days, engrossed with her research on Atë.

Red, the ever caring sister, handed her a cup of coffee. ”Drink.”

”You’re not listening-“

”Drink. Then I will listen.” Red repeated. It wasn’t a request. Natalia sighed, knowing full well that her sister wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her hand reached for the cup, much to the satisfaction of her sister, and she took a sip of the warm beverage.

”Good. Now, what did you say?”

”Atë. She’s here on a mission to take what isn’t hers.” Although her words made Red’s spine shiver, she did not display her fear. Instead, she took the hair brush on the table and ran it through her sister’s hair.

Both of them had red hair, Natalia’s a few shades lighter than Red’s. But although they had the same hair colour, they didn’t share the same texture. Natalia inherited their mother’s straight and silky hair, while Red took to their father’s soft and curly hair. The two of them inherited the red from their father, who was a kind yet stern man.

Both their parents were dead now. They were all they had left. Well...except for the Winchesters, who came into their lives a few years back.

“She’s done this before. In 1834, look.” Natalia showed the proof from her laptop screen. Indeed, it was true. It was a report about a woman with a description that matched Atë’s. “She burned houses, people, crops...she took babies just to murder them. Atë kills and conquers.”

“There’s no doubt she came back to do this again. She wants to cause chaos. That’s all she knows.”

“There’s also something else.” It took Natalia a few clicks on her laptop. “It’s been said that she can send people to another universe.”

“What, like with aliens and shit? ”

“Maybe. It’s not impossible. If we’re not careful, she’ll send us off to wherever she wants to. And then we won’t be able to save the world from her antics.”

They shared a look. Fear was evident im their eyes.

“She’s extremely powerful.” Natalia sighed. “But we need to fight her.”

—

“This wasn’t an accident. She does this to people. Goddess of Mischief, remember?” Red scoffed, taking another swig of water. She would’ve gone for ale, like the white-haired man who lead them here, but she didn’t have any money. At least, none that were worth in the world she was in. So, instead she asked for water, which was fortunately costless.

“How do we get back?” Sam was worried, Red noticed. He never really put his emotions on display, but she’s known him long enough to point out his tells. If he was worried, his eyebrows would knit together subconsciously and he would constantly run his hands through his hair.

Red put her hand over his, and he looked up at her with a smile in his eyes. He intertwined their fingers together, and she stroked his hand with her thumb. It wasn’t an uncommon thing between them. Every time they noticed the other was nervous or scared, they would reach for the other’s hand.

“We have to find a witch.” said Red. “If we were back in our world, Rowena would be able to help us. We need to find someone as powerful as her.”

“Do they even have witches?”

“We could always...” she trailed off as her eyes landed on the person she was looking for. “...ask.”

“Him? Are you kidding me?” Dean shook his head disapprovingly. “He didn’t want anything to do with us.”

“I could ask.”

“No.” Sam gave her hand a squeeze. “He could kill you. We don’t know him.” It was a joke, but there was a hint of truth in there.

Red returned the squeeze, as if to say ‘Don’t worry’. Then she stood up to walk over to the Witcher’s table before they could protest further.

“Not much for company, I see.”

The man ignored her, but she knew he was listening. “We need your help.”

“I’ve helped you enough. You want any more of my services, you pay.”

She started to feel hopeless, but at the back of her head she heard her sister scolding her for giving up too early. “You know we don’t have the money. We’re not from your world.”

He acted as if he was unbothered.

“Listen.” She seethed, frustrated with the way he was treating her. “All we need to do is find a witch. Then you can leave us from there. You said you’re a Witcher, do you know anything about magic?”

The corner of his lips twitched, a laugh threatening to start. “Witchers hunt and kill monsters. What you’re looking for is a mage.”

“A mage?” Red took the seat across him and sat down, forcing him to look in her eyes. “We’re looking for a powerful one. Can you lead us to them?”

His amber eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the tavern. He wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of helping the three strangers, but he did not like the idea of stringing along dead weight. He had jobs to do.

“No.” He hummed, downing the glass of ale right after to avoid looking at the woman in front of him.

“No? Seriously?” She didn’t yell, but it seemed like she was close to it. “Okay, what do you want? Besides money.”

“I want you to go away.”

“We don’t know anyone else in this world.”

“You don’t know me either.” That was true. They didn’t even know each other’s names. He stood from his seat and grabbed his things, making a beeline for the exit. She followed suit, hot on his heels.

Red was pissed off. “At least tell me where I can find a mage!”

“Pay.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She groaned. “Haven’t you heard anything I said? We’re lost! We don’t know anything about your world.”

They were already out the door, him at the front, trying to block out her voice.

“Look, please, just listen to me. Our world is in danger. We need to go back to save it.”

He knew a few things about saving. At this, he stopped in his tracks, contemplating. Red almost cried in relief when he did.

“If we don’t get back soon, the world- our world, will suffer. There’s someone who wants to destroy it and we’re the only ones who know how to stop her.” The last part wasn’t completely true. They were the only ones who knew what she was going to do to their world, but they didn’t know how to stop her yet. “Please.”

He turned, hearing the desperation in her voice. He gazed into her eyes, filled with a fire that he recognised all too well.

“Oi, that’s the Butcher!” A voice cried from their right. It was a man, obviously drunk, and he was dragging along a sword. The Witcher sighed, a scowl starting to creep on his face. He knew he would face something like this.

“If it isn’t the Butcher.” Another voice yelled. Red went silent, recognising the venom in the tone of the random man’s voice.

“Butcher?” She whispered.

At least half of the townspeople stopped in their tracks when they noticed the ‘butcher’, and a few men crowded around them.

“Get inside.” The Witcher growled to Red, but she couldn’t hear him among all the noise that the crowd was causing. The tension was thick, and Red reached slowly for her blade, ready to defend herself.”

“You’re no welcome here. You know that.” The drunk man slurred.

“I was here for a job. I seek no trouble.”

“No trouble? You’re presence is trouble itself.”

“Back off. I was just leaving.” But the drunk man wasn’t listening. He took his sword and swung. The Witcher dodged it, taking out his own sword from it’s sheath. They fought, the Witcher obviously winning, but he wasn’t planning on killing anyone today. He waited for the right moment before throwing a forceful punch his way, knocking the drunk man out immediately.

Red watched as the scene unfolded, not realising when a couple of men crept up behind her.

“You a friend of his?” One of them breathed, close to her neck. She whipped her head around, her face inches away from his. She took two steps back, trying to assess the situation.

“So what if I am?” She questioned.

“Then you just found yourself some trouble, missy.” In the blink of an eye, he swung a blade her way, missing her by inches when she managed to dodge it in time.

She rolled her eyes. “Can’t I get a break?”

Red attacked him, plunging her knife into his thigh. It wasn’t enough apparently, because he stood up fine, pouncing at her once again. She was quick to twirl her body around and kick him in the face, so hard that she could feel his teeth through her boot.

He fell, spitting out blood. It was a move that she used frequently while hunting, and it never failed to knock her victims out—whatever the species.

Another man moved to attack her from the back, this time she was caught off-guard. He had wrapped his arm around her neck, choking her. Just as she was struggling to stab him, his suddenly grip weakened. Red turned around to see Sam, holding a piece of hard wood that he used to hit the man on the head.

They shared a wordless grin for a second before resuming the fight. Dean had also joined, kicking and throwing punches. There were at least a dozen of men who were attacking them all. Why? The three humans didn’t have a clue. But they fought anyway.

Red turned to look for the Witcher, and was surprised when she found him struggling in a chokehold. He seemed strong enough to hold his own, but she ran his way and punched the side of his choker’s head, feeling the crack of her knuckles as it connected with his skull. It was enough to disorientate him.

“I had that.” The Witcher grumbled.

“Oh, yeah, sure you did.” She taunted, turning back to the man and kicking him in the stomach, then again in the face.

The Witcher stared at her, millions of thoughts popping into his head. Maybe she wasn’t dead weight after all.

Maybe he would consider helping her.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

you know how to treat it (you know how to eat it)

in which a very drunk Peter calls MJ late one night and tells her about one of his biggest fantasies

thotumn. day 6 & 9. face-sitting. “Shut up.” “Why don’t you make me?”

Thank you again @spideysmjs​ for setting this up! and bc i am a grandma i don’t know how to schedule things correctly, so this is goin up a little early! Enjoy!

Michelle blinks, eyes itching with exhaustion as she finally closes the textbook in her lap, tossing aside the convoluted words and scribbled notes. It’s late, too late for having an eight AM class in the morning, but Dr. Wheeler seems to have it out for her class, sending out an assignment with just twelve hours to go. You won’t have time in the real world, she’d said. People will throw things at you and ask for it back in an hour, she’d said.

While MJ didn’t doubt the validity of that statement, she thought thirty pages of notes with no warning was a little excessive. This is just undergrad. 

Her phone pings, and she knows it’s from Cindy, ranting about that very same assignment. And sure enough, she sees the text wall, the string of upside down smiley-faces. Tapping out a reply in solidarity and a quick good night, MJ sets her phone aside, flopping back against the mattress and tugging the blanket up to her chin.

She’s just turned off her bedside lamp, just nestled into the covers, just found the that perfect spot on the bed, when the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand yanks her back into the conscious world. 

Blowing a puff of air through her lips, her curls landing back on her face as she sits up, she grabs for her phone. And even if she’s a little annoyed, a sleepy smile stretches across her lips as Peter’s face lights up the screen. 

“Hey.” Her voice comes out in a tired, croaky murmur. 

“Emmmmmmm Jaaaaaaaaaaay,” Peter draws out warmly, so much so that she swears she can see his silly, delirious grin. 

So he’s drunk. 

“Hey, Pete,” she says again, falling back against the pillows. “What’s up?”

“Jus’ wanted to call and say hi—” he says slowly, as if he’s careful not to trip over his words, trying to sound sober even though he’s very much not. “—to my beautiful girlfriend.”

She cracks another smile, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand, knocking her feet together. “At… One in the morning?” 

Peter gasps. “Aw, shit. Em, did I wake you?”

“Well, no. Not really,” she lets out a light laugh. “I was just getting in bed.” 

“Oh. Okay, good.” She hears shifting on his side, hearing him almost drop the phone as he shuffles around what she assumes is his own bed. “Yeah, me too. Harry, Ned, and I went out and… I’ve been drinking. Just a li’l bit. But we got home and I just was like ‘Wow! I really wanna hear MJ’s voice.’ So I called you. Here I am.” 

The ooey, gooey side of her that melts when Peter says anything of the sort threatens to come out, and for not the first time, she’s glad to not live in the dorms anymore, her only roommate being on the other side of the apartment. “Cute,” she says. 

“Just know I’m giving you the biggest phone-hug right now.” His voice is muffled as he no doubt pushes the phone against his face. 

Even cuter. 

And even though she feels a little silly, she squeezes her phone, too. “Weirdo,” she says, unable to hide the affection in her tone—though to be fair, she’s not really trying all that hard. 

“But you loooooove meeeeee.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I love you!” There’s more shuffling on his end, his grunts from trying to get comfortable making her grin. He lets out a long sigh. “God, I can’t wait to see you this weekend.”

MJ’s chest warms at the reminder. “Me neither.” 

“We’re gonna have so much sex.”

The snort she lets out surprises her—almost as much as what he’s just said. While she doesn’t doubt his statement—because yeah, she definitely misses that—she just can’t help but laugh. “How much have you had to drink?” She asks.

“Just a li’l…” He mumbles, though from his tone she can tell that he’s severely understating how much he’s had to drink. “Like… I’m drunk but like—I’m not… Druuuunk. You know? Like, I’m not, ‘woooooooooo party!!’ drunk.”

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she nods, even though he can’t see her. “Yeah. Sure. Uh huh.” 

“I’m jus’ sleepy,” he says innocently. “Very, very sleepy.”

“Then you should go to sleep,” She teases, her cheeks starting to hurt. “Get some rest, Tiger,” she says softly. 

“I wanna talk to you first, though,” he says, and she can almost hear the pout in his tone. It makes her shake her head fondly. “I miss you. A lot. So much.”

A pang of something tugs at MJ’s heart. “I miss you, too,” she replies earnestly, a lump forming in her throat. 

They knew what they were getting into, going long-distance. What, with Peter choosing to stay at Empire State and Michelle choosing Princeton. It wasn’t too long of a drive, by any means, but it was still an hour and a half. It meant not being able to see each other on the busiest days. It meant having to go weeks without seeing each other, without holding or kissing each other. And it was nights like this, long nights after rough study sessions that she wished they could be together, that she could cuddle up to him and squeeze away all of her worries, even if just for a few moments. 

She refuses to let this get to her right now, though. Not while they’re on the phone in the middle of the night. Especially not while he’s intoxicated. 

“God, I wish you were here,” she hears him breathe into the phone, and she has to crack a smile at that, biting her bottom lip. That tone is one she’s very familiar with. “With me. In my bed.”

She holds back another snort at that. “Yeah?” 

“It’d be pretty nice,” he continues. “I just wanna…” 

He trails off a bit, and she’s wondering if he’s fallen asleep when the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Just wanna taste you.”

“Peter!” She scolds him lightly, not expecting him to go from zero to a hundred that quickly. 

“I love eating you out, though. Oh my God.”

She can feel her face absolutely burning now, hearing his gruff voice right in her ear; she can picture it so clearly, his head buried between her legs, his curls tickling her thighs as he—

“And you know what’d be, like, really cool?” 

She has to laugh at that, covering her mouth, unconsciously crossing her legs. “What?”

There’s another bout of silence where he doesn’t say anything. “I’ve been thinking about this so much, oh my God. But like… I really wanna eat you out but… with like you above me? Y’know? There’s a word, or some term for that I know but I can’t think of it…” His voice lowers to a mumble at the end, and she can hear him take a deep breath as he tries to think. His drunken, fuzzy laugh tugs at her chest.

Her lips twist into a knowing smile, her face hot, a gentle ache forming between her thighs as her own breathing starts to slow. “You want me to sit on your face?” 

“Fuck, yeah. That’s it. God, Em. You’re so smart.” He hums. “That’d be so great. So hot.”

“I try,” she jokes. 

“You always suc—succeed,” he says, pausing as he tries to navigate each syllable. “I just can’t stop thinking about you and like—your thighs just around my head and you—you just grinding yourself on my face. Fuck—”

She almost hates Peter for bringing this up—drunk or not—because now it’s all she’s going to be able to think about for the next few days until they can see each other. Squeezing her legs together to relieve some of the ache, she smiles. “That does sound pretty cool.”

“Right? So cool. So cool.”

“I mean,” she starts slowly, her fingers absently playing with a loose thread on the blanket. “We could probably try that,” she offers with a feigned sense of nonchalance. There’s nothing casual about how she’s feeling right now. This is definitely something she’s going to have to talk to sober Peter about tomorrow. Or the next time she sees him. 

Not ignoring this. At all. 

“Wait. Fuck—Really?”

And again, she has to hold back the laugh at how enthusiastic he sounds, feeling that dumb, warm fuzzy feeling even when he’s talking about wanting her to sit on his face. 

“Yeah,” she replies, a little breathless. 

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” he beams into the phone. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And not just because you let me eat you out—”

She swears, if he says, ‘eat you out,’ one more time—

“—But also because you’re so smart, and so funny, and so pretty, and just so amazing, and such a good person and I’m so lucky to have you, like, holy shit. I really hit the jackpot.”

She can only manage a short, near-timid response. It’s not a strange occurrence, her boyfriend showering her with praise—this is just a day in her life being with him. But hearing his soft voice at one in the morning—even drunk—somehow just hits differently. “Well, jeez, Pete…” 

“I love cuddling with you, and holding you, and kissing you—”

“—And having sex with me?” She asks, teasing. 

“—Especially having sex with you. F’course.”

His voice is starting to trail off, syllables melting together as he fights to stay awake. She wants to call him on his shit, to tease him for tapping out after drunkenly trying to initiate phone sex—sure, it might have been doomed from the start, but it could’ve been fun.

Instead, she laughs, listening as his breathing slows. She smiles hearing his gentle snore. 

When he texts her the next morning, he doesn’t mention his little fantasy. In fact, he doesn’t seem to remember their late night phone call at all. The night before is all just a fuzzy, blurry haze of too much tequila shots, according to him. And given how he doesn’t remember the exact number of adult beverages he’d had—it has to be somewhere in the late teens with his super-liver and super-kidneys—it’s not all that surprising that his initial good morning text is just a series of the throwing-up emoji. 

At least, she would sincerely hope that’s not related to what he’d said last night. 

But still, she decides to take this opportunity to both mess with the love of her life, and surprise him—her two favorite things. This decision comes from how clueless he acts when she asks, the series of question marks that follow her question about what exactly he remembers. She doesn’t fill Peter in on what he said, keeping it all to herself. No, the less he actually knows, the better the surprise will actually be. And the fact that he’s apparently been thinking about this for a long time—all without saying something—just makes it all the more sweeter. 

And just as she’d thought, she can’t get Peter’s words out of her mind. With another visit coming up in the next two days, it almost makes the wait even worse. Everytime she so much as stops whatever busy-work she’s doing, her brain immediately swerves back into that lane. In class, in the library, on the quad, in her apartment. It’s all too much. It doesn’t matter. Ever since Peter said that, she hasn’t known peace. 

It takes everything in her the next night not to bring it up again during their regular skype call. 

No, she’s able to get a grip, at least to some degree. 

But every sense of self-control goes flying out the window as soon as she’s on his doorstep.

The door to his apartment isn’t even closed before MJ’s on him. She’s been dangling this “surprise” over his head for the past two days—two days too many. Her kisses are greedy, drinking him in as she grabs fistfulls of his shirt and nearly ripping it off of him. And she revels in the feeling—as she always does—of his skin under her touch after so long apart. The feeling of his hands roaming her hips and waist, needy and insistent, fingers digging into her skin is the high she needs, the one she always needs, that she can’t imagine living without.

“So you really don’t remember what you said on the phone the other night?” She asks against his mouth, perched on his lap, his hands gripping her hips as she unconsciously grinds down. 

Peter’s eyes squeeze shut at the feeling, his grip tightening as he breathes out a laugh. “No. No, I don’t.” 

“Mmm…” A floaty smile tugs at the corner of her lips as they gently press against his in a deceptively chaste kiss. “Shame.”

He pulls back after a moment, something in his eyes saying that he’s already picked up on her tone. “Was it good? Bad?” 

Her hands wander up, hanging around his shoulders, one playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as she squints playfully at him. “I’d say good.”

“Oh?” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks up at her. “Well, cool. Glad I don’t have to worry about saying something stupid.”

“No, you always have to worry about that.”

“Hey!” 

With a swift pinch to her sides, she jerks forward, curling into him with a surprised yelp. 

“Don’t be rude,” he says through a laugh, still tickling her. “What did I say?”

“Okay—okay, fine!” Michelle pushes him away, unable to hide the humor in her tone. “I’ll tell you. Or—I guess I’ll show you?” 

“‘Kay…” Peter looks up at her with wide, curious eyes; especially when she stands up, removing her shirt and underwear and kicking them to the side. His smile only widens when she pushes him back onto the bed, hovering above him, straddling his hips. And because she can’t help herself, her lips immediately capture his, melting into him with a slow, heated kiss. His breathy moan shoots straight down between her thighs, and she presses against him in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. 

There’s a cheeky grin on his face when he pulls back as one of his hands wanders down to roughly knead her ass. “You gonna tell me what I said?”

With another quick kiss to his lips, she sits up. “Well, you were absolutely wasted.”

“Yeah…”

“And you were rambling on and on about how much you missed me, how much you loved me, how much you liked kissing me.” Despite her apparent confidence, her chest and cheeks are burning, her breath catching as she speaks. 

“Checks out.” A lop-sided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“And how much you liked eating me out? Apparently?” She just barely makes that out, her heart hammering in her throat, the heat in her center becoming almost unbearable. 

Peter closes his eyes, nodding solemnly. “Yes. Yup. I do.” He cracks another smile as he playfully squeezes her hips. “Flavortown is my favorite place.”

“No—” She gently slaps his bare chest, struggling to bite back her own grin. “Stop that.” 

Her hand smooths over his pec, down to his abs, smirking in delight as his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Sorry.” He winks. “Continue.”

“Well—” Michelle speaks slowly, starting to move herself up on him. “—You said you wanted to try something. Related. To that.”

His eyebrows raise curiously, his forehead wrinkling. “Yeah?” He asks, tilting his head. 

“Yeah. Something about me sitting on your face?” 

The way his eyes widen is something she can’t help but find adorable—so much so, she wishes she could take a picture of it. He breathes out a surprised—somewhat horny—laugh. He nods, giving a casual frown. 

“So does that sound like something you’d say?” Michelle asks, her voice low. “Is that something you want?”

Peter’s hands wander from her hips, ghosting along her sides, his thumbs caressing the undersides of her breasts, and back down again, and when he looks up at her, there’s something in his eyes that causes her stomach to flip in the best way possible. 

But then, of course, he’s Peter.

“MJ, you’ll be glad to know. Just for this moment—”

And he has to open his mouth.

“—I saved the best seat in the house for you.”

He emphasizes his point, patting his mouth with two fingers. 

She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, her lips twisting as she glares at him. “Okay. No. I’m done. Bye,” she says, struggling not to laugh as she starts to climb off of him. 

“Nooooooo—” Peter immediately keeps her in place, his hands on her hips. “—Please.”

“I’m so tired of you!” She laughs.

“Oh?” Peter tilts his head. “If you’re tired, why don’t you—” Another pat to his face. “—Take a seat?”

Only he can make her eyes roll in the back of her head in more than one way. “Shut up.”

There’s stupid, lopsided little grin on his face—full of too much mischief—as looks up at her, challenging. “Why don’t you make me?”

And she could swear that the wind’s been knocked out of her at that moment, the corner of her lips twitching upward into a surprised smile. 

He scoots them back, close enough that she can hang on to the headboard—of which he tells her she’ll definitely need to do.

She almost smacks him again. 

The air around her crackles with electricity as she slowly climbs up his chest, his hands on her thighs guiding her as she moves to straddle his face. Her own hands steady herself on the headboard, but she doesn’t look down until she’s in place, because, to be frank, it’s a lot to take in. Sure, she’s seen his face between her thighs plenty of times—it’s become one of her favorite sights in the world—but this, being above him, his mouth and nose covered by her as their eyes meet causes a heady rush to flare in her chest. There’s something about the way he grips her legs, his fingers digging into her thighs as he pulls her down.

It’s gentle at first, the deceptively chaste kisses he plants along her center, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathes her in. Already, he’s barely touched her and she feels seconds from falling apart, her face burning as his gaze flits up to meet hers. His lips ghost around her clit, never quite touching where she wants, and she can feel him smile against her as she unconsciously tries to grind herself onto him. He holds her still, looking up at her with a raised, amused brow, before licking a long stripe up her center.

The breathy moan he releases as he tastes her sends her head thrown back, and he smiles again as she sucks in a breath at the vibration, her grip on the headboard tightening. A shuddering sigh slips past her lips as his tongue swirls her arousal around, dipping down to the wetness at her entrance, his nose brushing against her clit. 

It’s the whine that leaves her lips that has him desperately pulling her closer, pressing her to him with such need, such hunger, such insistence; as if she’s oxygen. He moans without abandon into her cunt, his hard sucking on her clit causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up her spine, her toes to curl into the sheets. 

“Fuck, Peter—” She breathes, hanging her head as she struggles to hold herself upright on the headboard. 

He only hums, clearly in enthusiastic agreement, holding her flush against him, mouth hot and wet as he laps fervently at her heat, his fingers massaging her thighs, drifting to her hips and squeezing, before finally coming to the curve of her ass. 

She’s uncharacteristically shy at first, the tentative rocking of her hips coming in the heat of the moment. The muscles in her thighs twitch when he flattens his tongue and guides her, grinding her against him, his grip on her turning his knuckles white.

It’s always intoxicating, feeling him everywhere, his soft lips as they suck her clit, then his tongue as it spreads her arousal, as it starts fucking into her so well. A moan rips through her, her wet breath catching as he wraps a hand around to flick at her swollen clit. The warmth pooled in her lower stomach swells, melting, radiating through her legs to the tips of her toes, up to her chest. 

One of her hands falls from the headboard, snapping to his head, fingers carding through his curls for purchase, her chest heaving as fucks her with his tongue. A throaty moans escapes him as she jerks him closer, rutting herself against his face as she arches her back. 

She’s so close. Her thighs squeeze his head, the coil within her tightening and tightening, and—in an instant—there’s the invasive thought that he might not be able to breath. But when she tries to loosen up, when she starts to pull just an inch away, he reels her right back, more insistent, his hands on her hips, weighing her down. 

“So fucking good, MJ,” he praises filthily into her cunt, emphasizing his point with a hard slap to her ass. 

Her back straightens, rigid as she chokes on a gasp, the lewd sounds of his needy grunts, his sloppy kisses, her arousal—how wet she is on his lips and tongue—cause her body to burn, to set her skin alight, and she almost curses the both of them for not doing this sooner. 

It’s addictive, dangerously so, as she crumples forward against the headboard, her fist still in tangled in his hair, her muscles tightening, burning. This time, she doesn’t stop herself as her thighs close around his head, squeezing with a force that only eggs him on, his mouth urgent as it works her over.

“That’s it, baby—” His voice is muffled in her heat, drowned by his ministrations. 

She comes with a broken whine, panting with want as she feels herself spasming, a floaty, wavy smile pulling at her lips as Peter laps her through her orgasm. 

But even as she comes down from her first high, Peter—never one for backing down—doesn’t seem ready to quit. When she pulls up again, he yanks her back, his gaze pleading as he looks up at her, silently begging her not to move. It’s so soon after, though, and his mouth still so hot on her sensitive clit sends a shock through her, her hips desperately rocking against his face—the feeling both too much and not enough.

Her second orgasm takes her by surprise, ripping through her as he sucks harshly on her clit. It’s an out-of-body experience—cliche as it sounds; she swears her vision goes out for more than a second, and she wonders if she’s somehow accidentally pulled a chunk of his hair out with how hard she was gripping. It takes more than a moment to come back to reality, her hips bucking as Peter still laps languidly at her cunt, flicking slowly at her clit, as if he still hasn’t had his fill. It’s almost as if he’s making a show of it, the moans coming from his lips, the vibrations of them against hers, somehow making her even wetter. 

He pulls back slightly, and her mouth and throat goes dry seeing his nose, mouth, and chin slick and glistening with her. His lips puffy and pink, hair wild, looking completely fucked out. “You think you got a third?” He asks with a gentle pat to the curve of her hips.

And it’s his voice that makes her have to keep her eyes from rolling back; at least an octave lower, husky. 

But it’s the adoration in his eyes that makes her heart swell. 

Taking a shuddering breath, she nods. “Yeah,” she replies, biting her lip through a smile. “Please.”

He grins back up at her, scooting down on the bed a bit, pulling her with him. It gives her enough room to bend forward, now bracing herself on the mattress. His warm breath fans over her soaked cunt, and it takes everything in her not to squeeze her legs together again. His hands smooth over her skin, kneading the flesh of her ass as he pulls her down again. And he takes a moment to place another tender kiss on her sensitive clit—a gesture and touch that causes her hips to jolt—before taking hold of her and roughly pulling her down again. 

This time, he’s quick to wrap his lips around her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, yet still savoring her. Her choked moan is cut off as one of his hands coils around behind her, swiping his fingers through her wetness, coating themselves in her arousal. 

How Peter can get these sounds out of her, she thanks whatever higher power there is for that. The breathless whine the tumbles from her lips as her jaw goes slack, her body slumping further as he starts to pump two fingers into her, curling just so that she can’t help but chant his name like a prayer, over and over into the pillow. 

It’s not long before she’s coming all over his fingers, his mouth, feeling herself fluttering around him as she desperately grinds down. For a moment, she almost forgets where she is, smiling and mumbling dreamily, not even sure what she’s saying as Peter moves out from under her. She feels his lips on her back as he kisses his way up her spine, his lips soft and gentle, full of love, on her skin. 

When he reaches her face, his hand moves to cup her cheek as he lays beside her, his thumb smoothing over her skin. 

She blearily looks at him, dazed, body still thrumming, buzzing from her third orgasm. 

“Hey,” he says, his smile lop-sided, dopey; an expression so soft coming from someone doing such filthy things moments before. 

Peter. 

And MJ hums, closing her eyes again as he pulls her close, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss. Another moan escapes her as she tastes herself on his mouth, her tongue slipping past his lips, drinking him in. 

When he pulls back again, he can’t help but bite his lip. “How was that?” he asks, though from the smirk on his face, he seems to already know the answer. 

Still breathless, MJ grins, shrugging as she starts to sit up. “It was alright.” 

“Woooooow.” His jaw drops in mock-offense as he follows. “Three times was alright?” 

“I think we’ll have to do it again,” she teases. “Just so I can really form an opinion. You know?” 

“Oh, of course,” he murmurs, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes, his hands migrating to her hips, ready to pull her into his lap. 

But she stops him, her eyes tinted with mischief as she glances between his face and the outline of his painfully hard cock straining against his boxer briefs. 

“Is this seat taken?”

[kinsbin]

Coffee Shop At Home [Commission]

Title: Coffee Shop At Home Word Count: 2067 Pairing: Alexys/Tommy ft. Nadine/Joel [SI/Canon]

Summary: It had been a while since they had a relaxing double date. What better place than over coffee at Joel’s?

A/N: Commission for @space-sweetheart featuring @nadineselfships ship as well! Both ya’ll are so cute... it’s been so long since I wrote for TLOU but I still got it BABEY- 

---

Joel’s apartment was quiet, but it was the good kind of quiet.

It was the kind of quiet that seeped into the edges of old bones on days where it was raining outside. That sweet kind of warm quiet that came with feeling protected and amongst a nostalgic sense of presence. A type of endless silence that was welcome against the crackling of a fire in a makeshift fireplace as water dribbled down rain gutters against your window.

Alexys supposed that, truly, this wasn't real quiet. It wasn’t real quiet because nature was so loud outside, demanding to be let in with the crack of thunder and the sweet smell of petrichor with every droplet that fell against the concrete and asphalt outside. She felt lucky that their small group hadn’t gotten caught in the sudden downpour that threatened the outside world. The last time they had, more than just a few Infected had decided that they were the perfect targets for their ravenous desires. The memory brought with it a sense of inane urgency that momentarily overshadowed the sense of comfort the rain initially brought with it. She couldn’t help but inhale as a gentle hum of thunder broke itself off in the background of the mountains.

A hand fell against her shoulder, the sound of fabric rustling the only other noise amongst the quiet, and Alexys couldn’t help but startle in her seat as she turned around. Her hair brushed at the hand of Tommy, who was gazing down at her with the wrinkle of a smile present in his soft eyes. Immediately she could feel her body relax, the world returning into focus beyond the rain as she recognized the slow picking up of noises that permeated the silence.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Tommy couldn’t hide the soft chuckle in his voice, “Looks like we lost you there for a second.”

Alexys smiled back up at him, leaning her head and letting her cheek fall against his hand with a sigh. If it flustered Tommy, he did an excellent job at hiding it beyond the slightly warming pink of his cheeks. He let himself reach out and place his palm on her face, rubbing a thumb along her cheek with appreciation. She was so beautiful, the gray of the sky matching the dangerously stormy shade of her eyes as she hummed in appreciation at the touch. Part of him wished he could take a picture like this: her at the window with that smile on her lips… damn, he hadn’t felt this way in a long time that was for certain.

A gentle clearing of someone’s throat made Tommy startle as he pulled away from Alexys. Alexys’ own cheeks suddenly burned pink as her head shot up to see just who had caught them in their moment of intimacy. Though, in her heart, she knew it could be only one of two other people. There were only four of them in the apartment, after all.

Sure enough it was Nadine, their smirk obvious against their lips as some of their hair fell neatly into their face. Though their hands sported two hot cups of what smelled like coffee, they seemed content to lean against the frame of the walkway they had come out of for a few moments more, simply admiring the shenanigans of the couple before them. It wasn’t until Joel appeared behind them, two more cups between his own large palms, that they shifted into action, entering the small living room with a hum to their voice and a kick in their step.

“Coffee’s ready for ya, lovebirds~.” They teased with a warm affection in their tone of voice, “If you can separate yourself from your beautiful moment long enough sip it.”

“You’re one to talk.” Alexys shot back playfully at her friend, accepting one of the coffee cups from their touch with a cheeky raise of her brows. Nadine only laughed at the accusation, handing the other coffee cup over to Tommy before accepting a third one from Joel as he outstretched his arm to give it to them. There was a hum of ‘thanks’ against their lips before they leaned up to press a careful kiss to Joel’s lips, only proving Alexys point as Tommy laughed softly at her side.

“Ya see? It’s hypocritical, Dean.” Tommy defended himself through his chuckles, resulting in a blush from Joel and a huff from Nadine as they playfully stuck their tongue out at the other man. Alexys couldn’t help but laugh at the actions of her friend, finding a seat in the armchair closest to the window once again as she looked down into the old, slightly cracked mug that held her coffee.

It was a lighter shade than the other’s coffee, as hers was made mostly of creamer and sugar rather than the actual beverage itself. Swirls and ripples shone in the edges of the cup, the noticeable movement of it having just been stirred obvious in its presentation. Taking a sip, she found the temperature a perfect heat and the creaminess on par, the powdered creamer they had used held a hint of French vanilla aftertaste to it. Alexys wondered how they had scored something so precious amongst the rubble of the city and grabbing hands of the looters that had the tendency to try and intimidate their way into bases like this.

A weight leaned itself at her side. Tommy was smiling down at her as he took a seat on the arm rest next to her, leaning comfortably along the small space as he gazed down at her and sipped his own coffee. He took it black, just like his brother had the tendency to do. They were the type of guys to simply miss drinking the beverage rather than the accoutrements that could be added to it, she supposed. Still, the sight of the straight black liquid left a bitter sympathy taste on her tongue.

“I don’t get how you can drink it like that,” Tommy raised his eyebrow curiously, “Looks sweet as shit.”

“Shit isn’t sweet,” Nadine declared cheekily from their spot upon Joel’s lap. The older man didn’t seem bothered by the closeness of his lover, one hand lax around their waist while the other held his coffee to his lips, one eyebrow raised in curiosity towards the discussion between them and his brother.

“Oh? How would you know?” Tommy hummed in return, “You eaten’ shit before, Dean?”

“Oh fuck off.”

The group laughed through the joke, smiles spread on their faces as they talked. For a moment, Alexys could almost imagine this being… normal. As if they were at a light group gathering in the world long ago, before everything went to shit and the world was still semi functioning amongst its working roads and societies. She briefly entertained the thought of them going to a real coffee shop, where the scent of freshly ground beans would permeate the air and the sound of smooth café jazz would echo between their eardrums with the utmost nostalgia. The flavor of an iced beverage, sweetened with house specialty and the care of a trained barista, would cross her lips on a hot day and she would be able to smile across a table at Tommy as he took his inevitably black coffee all the same. The mere domesticity was enough to make her blush as she took another sip of her drink.

“Still,” Nadine’s voice echoed thoughtfully over her momentary daydream, “Creamer tastes weird. Just sugar is usually fine with me.”

“Yeah,” Joel laughed, “Ten spoonful's of it.”

“Sugar is good, Joel! I have a WEAKNESS.”

“Sugar is good,” Alexys defended with a tilt of her own mug and a smile, “If anything, you two are weird for drinking your coffee just black.”

“Yeah! You see? Alexys gets what I’m talking about! She understands me.” Nadine’s dramatic declaration was accompanied by a flourished swoon to which their hand touched their forehead and they leaned back into Joel’s arms, making the older man grunt as he adjusted his coffee mug so that it wouldn’t spill all over the other in his grip.

“I mean, I guess it makes sense,” Tommy hummed as he looked down at Alexys with that sweet gaze, the one he always seemed to wear when he was admiring her with a little too much adoration for her to think she deserved it, “Maybe that’s the way you stay so sweet.”

Alexys blushed and the giggle that bubbled from her lips was a soft noise of amusement. Tommy’s own laugh echoed it as he reached out and found her free hand with his own. Alexys couldn’t help but appreciate the feeling of his fingers - so calloused and rough from years of survival and struggling - brush her own in a reassuring grip. His palms were so much bigger than hers that he all but engulfed her in them, his touch the softest thing on her form as she leaned to the side to touch their bodies together a little closer.

Nadine laughed somewhere in the background while Joel let out a soft - slightly amused - chuckle emanate from his own chest as they watched the other two have their moment.

“I can’t believe you’d use something that cheesy.” Nadine couldn’t help but tease Tommy, “I’ve seen better pick up lines from the inside of gum wrappers.”

“I thought it was kind of cute.” Joel teased easily back at Nadine, rocking them slightly on his knee as he bounced it under them. It made his significant other yelp as they clutched at their coffee in surprise, hoping that they wouldn’t drop any of it in the process of controlling themselves. A soft kick to Joel’s shin was delivered, not enough to deal damage but enough to note their moderate frustration.

“If you make me spill this coffee I’m drinking yours! This is expensive stuff, you know.”

“Oh so you’d drink mine if there was no other option?”

“Well obviously I’d go back and put sugar in it, ya gumby.”

Alexys couldn’t help but giggle at the look that crossed Joel’s face at the ‘insult’. Tommy laughed at her side, leaning closer to her as well. Their legs touched eventually, the awkward height difference from the chair to its arm rest was ignored in favor of the pleasant nearness of one another. Outside of their snug apartment meeting, the sound of rain continued down hard on the glass panes. It had picked up now to a crescendo the likes of a torrential downpour more than previous mist. Alexys couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering over curiously, in time to catch a moment of lightning that struck dangerously across the edges of the skyline.

Tommy whistled at her side.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a nasty one out there,” He observed as he watched with her, sipping his coffee slightly as the corner of his mouth twitched into a relaxed smile, “Ah, but don’t you worry, sweetheart. I think we’re in pretty good company to weather it.”

Alexys couldn’t stop the smile that spread on her lips as she looked up at the man she loved, his eyes soft in their edges for her as he squeezed her hand once more with assurance on his own. She squeezed back, exhaling as she focused her attention back on Joel and Nadine, who were settled in with one another now; Nadine on Joel’s lap and their head resting on his shoulder while his arm went around their waist and brought them in closer with a content sight… It was the same sense of warmth and closeness that she and Tommy radiated with equal amounts of adoration.

The house inside fell quiet again, but that good kind of quiet once more. That relaxed and warm feeling of the four of them simply enjoying one another’s company, especially as Nadine urged Joel to pick up his guitar for the night and play them a soft something against the crackle of thunder outside. Alexys gripped her still warm coffee in her hands and felt a sense of contentment somewhere in the pit of her heart as she gave a nod to Tommy with a hum.

It was no coffee shop, but it was a home. She supposed that was all that mattered.

[emeritiii]

OC-tober Day 3: "Old"

To make sure I won't burn myself out on drawing, I took asks for today's prompt! You can find the original meme by charmymemes here (link).

I used my man Felix from Rebelle (Jake from State Farm voice) for all of these. Rebelle is one of the oldest projects I am still actively a part of—Felix was created in 2014 or so, so he's not ancient but hopefully still old enough that I can make retirement jokes at him.

Disclaimer: I only did some instead of all because I ran out of time, but I may come back to it  👁️👁️ (and thank you!)

> OC-tober prompts by bweirdart

# # # # # # # # # # # #

👁️ EYE) He has blue-grey eyes. They aren't extremely striking, but they are usually alert and the most expressive part of his face.

🤥 LYING) He needs to back up his lies with physical actions and false evidence. He dislikes not being honest, and his voice by itself is not very convincing, so he does not stand up well to being questioned. His best strategy is either lying by omission or (the opposite end of the spectrum) setting up an elaborate story with all the details worked out in advance.

👻 GHOST) He doesn't believe in ghosts in the way that a real paranormal enthusiast believes in ghosts, but he does believe that places are figuratively haunted by every bad thing that has ever happened there. The psychological imprint of a traumatic event is just as good as a ghost.

💥 COLLISION) He has trouble dealing with All Emotions. He can get them out of the way by refusing to acknowledge them, but some professionals seem to think that is "maladaptive" and "making the problem worse in the long run."

😭 CRYING) I won't say he doesn't cry—he cried a lot when he was a kid—but it is so rare that only his two closest friends who have known him for years have ever seen him tear up. It would mainly happen when he was frustrated and upset about something he knew he had no control over.

👊 PUNCH) The average civilian would find him quick to violence, but other prominent members of his military unit (cough Hans cough), think he is too lenient. He tries to use the least force possible, but very few people would thank him for only giving them a minor wrist fracture.

💢 ANGER) The habits that tend to bother other people most are talking to himself and pacing multiple laps around camp after being forced to stand still for too long.

👪 FAMILY) His parents aren't around anymore and he was not on good terms with them for most of his life, but his younger sister Roxie is more important than anything else in his life. He may be a touch emotionally dependent on her, which raises a whole slew of issues, but he loves her enough to go straight to turbo hell for her.

😨 FEAR) He uses Fight as a mechanism for Flight—push whatever is threatening him into a position where he can guarantee escape.

💤 SLEEPING) Felix has as much trouble falling asleep as anyone in his setting does. He finds it easier to doze off if Soren, Hans, or Sapphire is nearby, although he knows better than to fall asleep first with Soren and Hans. He also finds it soothing when someone is playing music outside.

🥞 PANCAKE) If he were a breakfast-eater, his comfort breakfast would probably be fried potatoes with an egg over easy and a little diced green chile.

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE) His birthday is 7 April and he hasn't celebrated it since he was a teenager.

🍩 DONUT) He likes anything with honey since that is the easiest sweetener to come by. Sweetened jalapeño cornbread is his go-to.

🍟 FRIES) Since ordering food isn't an option, I'll reframe as cooking for himself versus taking what the camp cook prepares. He hates rations and his stomach resists the venison that makes up a large proportion of the average soldier's protein, but rarely does he have the motivation to cook, so he usually ends up tolerating whatever is available.

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE) He loves hot drinks; he drinks more chicory coffee and lavender tea (courtesy of Sapphire) than he does water.

🍓 STRAWBERRY) He is decent about eating his fruits and vegetables. He won't say no when someone offers him a share of some safe wild berries, especially if they have been traveling or training extensively. He likes kale when someone thinks to grow it.

🍰 CAKE SLICE) Again, it's easiest to come by honey, so he has more experience with honey cake than anything else, but he had a life-changing berry cake once. He isn't picky.

🍧 SHAVED ICE) He has a square of Roxie's baby blanket, which he has embroidered with the family name and stitched into the inside of the jacket of his uniform because he couldn't fathom losing it. Ironically, it has turned a jacket he hates into something he can't relax without.

💐 BOUQUET) Passing on this one because I will not get these done otherwise (lighthearted)

🌙 MOON) He wants to bring his family (as in just himself, his sister, and Soren if he’ll put up with it) back together. He has already killed in pursuit of this, and he would be willing to die for it even though that would defeat the purpose.

🌋 VOLCANO) His temper is much shorter than it seems. He is good at suppressing outbursts but not at all good at actually stalling the buildup of anger.

[rey-kryze]

When night time folds around our bed.

a modern reylo fic : chapter one.

pairing : rey x kylo ren / ben solo / reylo. 

rating : explicit  ( it will be , its only chapter one , lads ). 

word count :  2628 

read on ao3.

Her alarm's freakish screams jar her out of bed , hard enough that she falls onto the floor, where a pile of textbooks dig into her ribs.

its celtic music , calming --- Finn had insisted , that her usual go-to of Nineties' one hit wonders , weren't going to help her start her day on the right foot .   Rey, currently , only wanted to stomp defiantly on his .  Her roommate's newfound love of this hippy-dippy nu-age crap was the least of her concerns, as she stares at the red numbers from this angle she's suddenly aware that there's an eleven o'clock , where there should have been a nine.  She slept through her class .

The class that cost her ... Fuck, a lot of zeroes .

Rey thinks in numbers , and , while her friends mock her for it , left brain crap makes more sense to her than just about anything else -- maybe if her wake up call was in binary, she'd actually have woken up .  

She huffs, as if by sheer an abject defiance, she can will time to turn back, and give her the strength to power down to a lecture that had absolutely nothing to do with aerospace design , but was a weird sidelined requirement in the engineering part of her degree .  Whatever . Rose took that class, Rose , whose notes were a verbatim recount of what their fossilized professor would have spewed over the last two hours. Rey smiles to herself , realizing that she'd never actually made it off the ground. 

I'm too young for this , bitterly, as her joints pop and crackle , a protest of her having moved at all -- least, when she's stretching towards the stucco ceiling that's got a concerning number of tac-mark holes in it , and she's never looked up long enough to notice them until  now .  She'd add it to her to-do list, buy some Spackle . 

Stumbling , Rey's arms only come down when she yawns, and nearly trips over herself on the way to the kitchen - the smell of coffee was , to the bleary eyed college student, a siren's song for which she'd brave the storm of her housemates . All of whom , have been up for hours . 

" Rey , no offense , but you look like crap . " Poe , who is currently side-eyeing Finn's choice in late-morning beverage ( something green and thick -- couldn't he have the common decency to pour it into something that wasn't transparent ? )  , was always the one for honesty , except , apparently , when it came to his partner's dietary habits. He simply raises his brows, and resumes drinking his coffee , " You okay ?" After a moment has passed and Rey, usually quick on her wit, hadn't said a word.

" Huh ? Yeah of course ! I'm just peachy ." Deadpanned , she's still glaring at Finn who has made a point to read a fascinating article in the Wall Street Journal. Rey's half inclined to pour his kale-something-or-other all over it, she doesn't, and fishes around for a clean mug while grumbling , " I overslept. Missed my only class for the day, and with Spring Break around the corner i'm running out of things to do . Too much free time ." 

" You're the only person in the world who is mad that classes are out for two weeks , " Finn , finally choosing to speak , levels at her. They've mastered the art of copacetic trash talking and it unnerved anyone who didn't understand just how much these two cared for each other. ( its a lot , a lot a lot , and if he wasn't with Poe , people might have thought it was puppy love ). 

He's not wrong , but that doesn't mean Rey's any less annoyed with him for saying it . " Hey . " A snap , " Us scholarship kids have to pull our weight around here. Idle hands are the devil's play things , or however the adage goes ." She's slowly lost any heat to her words, lulled into a caffeine-induced complacency as she nurses her first of many cups of coffee . It was the only way she could balance her usual routine, but , with classes winding down, and her almost done with her degree three years in advance ( how it'd back fired, overlaying as many credits as she had ) , its bringing too much to light. Like the things she doesn't have, or what she never does .

Poe, who has an apparent death wish,( alongside psychic abilities )  quips , " If your hands had something to play with maybe you wouldn't be so tightly wound ." Finn chokes on his drink, and Rose, who'd just come in with a smile, frowns .

" You know Rey." Her voice is happy. How is she literally always happy ? The arch of Rey's brow , normally wilting, isn't even enough to stop her now , " He's got a point. You never even go out with us . You visit skeevy bars , but never take anyone home --- " Finn clearing his throat is a saving grace that's got Rey forgiving the panflutes from earlier in a heart beat . Rose concludes quickly , " It just might do you some good to have some er --- human contact ! Not that the engine of a 747 doesn't get you plenty hot ." 

Its a bad joke. The group collectively groans . 

" I date ." She corrects, but when all eyes turn on her , the burn of her cheeks is telling , " -- I mean, its not that I haven't been asked. I'm just not interested in ... college boys." Yes, that's believable . Let them think you're into older men, or something .  Rey's internal dialogue is more convincing than her outer one, as they continue to stare at her in growing disbelief , " Get off my case ." Is all she can manage through the thicket of their laughter . Her blush recedes, and she's left with a certain begrudged fondness for the ragtag group of people that were her friends . 

Its only two p.m , and Rey's run out of things to do . It's stupid , really, how a friendly jibe could unearth so many truths that she'd worked hard to keep at bay. There's a reason she focuses on numbers instead of letters , on equations instead of poetry . Math and physics didn't call on that certain romantic quality that always, always found its way into any art she'd dared be interested in . Romance is crap. All of it is just ... crap.

Or maybe it isn't.

Crap. 

She knows herself well enough that this nagging thought wont go away on its own . Its not that Rey's a virgin , or that she'd silently sworn herself to celibacy . More or less .. her feelings were baseless . She'd never known intimacy in a way that made her seek it out . It felt forced, uncomfortable , too-tight and too .. much . Rey knows Dr. Kanata and her had worked through a lot of her ' intimacy issues ' but that didn't make it an overnight fix ( A decade of therapy didn't qualify, evidently ). She' had boyfriends, but nothing that she could make sick .  Ninety percent of the time , Rey got tired of them , bored with the compulsory tenderness and saying shit that she did not , in earnest , feel. It was all to fit in , and placate herself more than anyone else . 

Crap.

Her legs are bouncing with nervous energy, sitting on the edge of her bed with her beat up phone in her lap - Rey frowns at the screen like it'd insulted her . She still can't believe that her own two fingers , in a flurry of doubt and defiance ( that'll prove them wrong is never sound reasoning ) have pulled up the app store , and typed in six letters , in that specific sequence , no less.

The only things she'd had downloaded to her phone besides the generic , standard set were : uber , youtube , a scientific calculator ( have you seen how expensive those things are ? this was free ) ,  a moon tracking bit , and something meant to organize her routine . 

Now , this garish gradient of pink and orange is sitting dead-center on her home page . She hadn't dragged it into a group , yet , but it certainly didn't belong with any pre-existing thing . The whole ordeal is stressing her out when it was meant to provide the exact opposite.  She nearly deletes. Nearly. but Poe's voice of all thing echoes , and then Rose's ... They'd sounded so ... pitying . Rey hates pity. And its with that intent -- to never see them look at her like that again, that she lets it download in full.

Her phone pings , and a groan runs through her at the sight of the notification that , really, only further cemented the fact that Rey at only twenty one years of age, was desperate to get laid. Tinder had downloaded successfully. 

Turns out, Rey's got a fascination with setting up profiles .  

She'd spent nearly two hours filling out the respective boxes , her interests , while minimal , had been gone into great detail - though , if this was solely for finding a quick lay, she can't imagine anyone would get past her profile picture ( a rather flattering one ) -- Rey'd never been any good with selfies, but Poe snapped a candid when they'd all gone out for a boozy brunch . Her smile takes up too much of her face, but her freckles glimmer under the nascent sun , a filter provided by the oversized red umbrella that kept their table in the shade , highlights her tan ( long lost to the unforgiving winter ) beautifully. All in all , with her hair in its standard ' space buns ', as Finn called them, ( the first astronaut with style , Rose had amended ) , she could call herself an attractive girl. Attractive enough to warrant a swipe , god , that felt silly, even just to think.

She smiles . Its been a long time since she'd felt this way. 

Unfortunately , she forgot about her pending beaus within the hour , busying herself with repairing the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. Despite having warned her friends to stop shoving all their leftovers down its gullet, it was broken after only a two week lapse since she'd last fixed it.  More than once , she'd threatened to charge them for her services, but they all knew that Rey took mundane delight in doing things like this , her hands and mind preoccupied was just the way she liked it . She's smiling to herself , almost absurdly , as she hums along with the music trickling out from her phone's warped speaker -- the music's interrupted by a sound she doesn't recognize -- everything , every app , every reminder had been set to a certain Morse notification , this one was shrill and annoying and gave her a brief flashback to this morning's unfortunate Celtic incident. 

She cleans her hands off with a dish towel, and pulls it out of her coverall's front pocket .  ' congratulations ! you have a match ! ' bloody hell . Funneling embarrassment, and regret, she slides her phone open -- expecting a frat boy with a Ralph Lauren polo , or maybe some older 'gentleman' whose picture looked like a grayed big toe. 

Her assumptions had been ( mercifully ) wrong . 

'Ben Solo' , a name that was vaguely familiar , but in that sort of way you half-remember a dream, she shrugs it off - Ben wasn't uncommon , and being ' solo ' had become something of a plague .  She shouldn't chuckle at her own pun that was at the expense of a man that, apparently, thought she was someone he'd sleep with . 

He's handsome. Startlingly so . But not at all in any traditional fashion . Rey finds herself flipping through his pictures over and over, smiling when he did , which was only in one of the ten images he'd uploaded. Its enough , she's sold , her hearts beating frantically and her stomachs probably in her shoes, but she's riding the high that came with being .. wanted. However impersonally, through an app she'd trashed for months now , no less. 

' Hi !'    Crap  . is that too impersonal? She adds a smiley face emoji a minute later , feeling out of practice and , quite frankly , ridiculous for having been so eager to message him - she'd only gotten the notif moments before. What if he thinks she's some girlish little waif who has been waiting, tragically , by her phone for him to match with her ? 

' Hello .'   Oh . He's formal too, Rey worries her lip a bit before replying, 

' I'm Rey !'  ... that's spelled out for him above, dummy. She'd already hit send though, no going back. Typing bubbles appear before she can ad to that. 

' I see that . '  Was he being rude ? Or playful ? For whatever reason, she feels like he smiled to himself when he sent it. Her toes curl a little. 

She takes a deep breath -- better to be honest with it , if he didn't like her forward nature, this wouldn't work to begin with. 

' ive never done this  I mean  you can see that too I figure I'm not sure ... the protocol for these things . er .'  a.k.a How do I ask for casual sex even if that's the primary directive here ? 

He's kind, when he answers , about ten minutes after -- The whole time Rey's spent , still crouched under the kitchen sink , using the light of her phone to go by, but not accomplishing any actual work while she waits.

' Ah. I'm new to this , too .'  He's being oddly formal. Punctuation ,  capitalization -- Rey's immediately aware that she hadn't checked his age, she'd been so enticed by his images and the prospect of scratching a newly - woken itch . She scrolls back over to his profile, and sighs with relief. He's only thirty. Which is only nine years her elder . Her friends had dated professors twice that age -- oh , a new message.

' To be frank , I'm finding it hard to believe you're real . It isn't often a woman of your caliber resorts to using a dating app . Not that I myself have extensive familiarity with them. '   Okay .. He wasn't actually getting anywhere with this , and its edging dangerously close to a real conversation . Usually, now's when Rey's attention would be thrown sharply and wholly into whatever she'd been doing before -- but she can't seem to stop herself when she replies, 

' A woman of my caliber ?' Rey adopts his cadence , its easier to feel less like a messy child by comparison . 

' Yes. You're beautiful, and educated . Did you run out of characters in your bio ? I felt that it ended abruptly. ' She had, but that he'd noticed makes her blush furiously. Its so hard to confine a person to two thousand words or less -- she'd had that same issue in her papers , enough so that her teachers have given her a page limit in contrast to her classmate's minimum . 

' I did.'  She pauses.  ' I didn't think people payed that much attention to the girls they're trying to sleep with . '  Its crass, and she hopes it wouldn't chase him off. He's typing for a long while , a long ... long while ... oh no is he going to lecture her ? 

' You're not just any girl, though. Are you ?'  All that time an that's what he said ? He must've deleted and re-written that message a half dozen times ; she wonders at his first drafts of it , and then she's wondering at her wondering, and .... 

' I would like to take you out to a nice place. We can take an uber, so you're not trapped in my car with me, a public setting. Nothing too intimate or personal . But I think you are someone I'd rather like to hear speak before commencing in other activities.'    did he just make hooking up sound eloquent ?  Damn . Damn . Damn. Crap. 

Rey smiles again, for the fiftieth fucking time , in the half hour she'd been messaging him - he had a way with words, that's how she justifies this conductive energy spiraling through her limbs .

' Tonight ? I'm free around seven .' Which gave her ... two and a half hours to fashion herself into a human being . 

' Absolutely. I'll message you the address , one moment.'  

She did it . She had a date -- or whatever this qualified as. 

Wait. Rey had a date. Crap . 

' Hey peanut we're home !' 

[pickledmanjo]

I Like Me Better - Lauv

So I’ve been listening to this song nonstop for like... the past month and I couldn’t help but think of a STEREK fic to go along with it? I can’t write worth jack but this is like little doo hickeys in regards to my favorite boys.

Derek is a brood Alpha who hates himself because of what happened in his life and he feels that he will never deserve happiness. Then, in comes Stiles with his happy go lucky self, who is no stranger to pain and loss, but he never lets that get him down because he is Stiles and that’s just how Stiles rolls. He is the Stilinator! Derek knows this about him as well and tries to slowly make his life a little bit better because he can’t help but be drawn to the boy. His ability to put others before himself and to make any person smile is endearing and if Derek must say so, quite addicting. Derek scowls less whenever the two are together and he feels lighter just thinking about him.

The pack notices the change in their Alpha whenever Stiles is around him and the subtleties that are between them are no longer that subtle. Stiles sees how Derek smiles more and makes it his personal mission to make it happen as much as possible, whether it be telling jokes that make everyone else groan or purposefully making a fool of himself when he is cooking the pack food before every meeting. Brief brushes of shoulders and lingering gazes turn to arms thrown over the other and fingers playing with the hairs on the back of their necks. Isaac, the pure pup that he is, squeaks in delight when he notices the latter as the pack is hanging out in the loft after a particular heated alliance meeting with the neighboring pack. Derek was pacing back and forth trying to calm down and Stiles reached up to grab the Alpha’s hand from his seat on the stool he was occupying. After giving him a reassuring smile and a little nod of the head, Derek closed his eyes and sat on the ground in front of him as Stiles carded his fingers through the wolf’s hair. A soft purr vibrating through Derek’s chest as the rest of the pack relaxes. Lydia shushes Isaac and the puppy just smiles back at her and watches the scene in front of him. A sense of contentment going through his soul as well as the bond, which immediately was felt by everyone as their worries slowly ebbed away until it no longer existed.

- - - - -

During a pack movie night at the Stilinski household, the two men fall asleep cuddled up on each other halfway through the 3rd movie. The rest of the pack notices and decides to end the night. They turn off the film and quietly make their way out of the house where they met up with The Sheriff walking up to the porch after a long day at the station. They wished him a good night and continued to their cars, driving off into the night to their respective homes. As soon as John walked through the front door, he was greeted with a sight that he never thought he would see. The Alpha werewolf covered the boy with his arms and cradled the boys head to his chest. He knew that his son was spending more time with the Alpha, but he didn’t think that their relationship was as close as what he was witnessing. He grabbed the throw on the adjacent loveseat and covered the both of them up to keep them warm. Derek woke up at the feeling and shot his eyes up to the Sheriff, a brief look of fear is portrayed before he noticed the seniors face. John smiles at him and gave a little shake of his head to signal Derek to go back to sleep. “We’ll talk in the morning, son.”, he tells him and then makes his way up the stairs to his own bedroom.

- - - - -

The next morning Derek is up bright and early. He makes his way into the kitchen when he hears the opening and closing of cabinet doors and sees the Sheriff in his uniform. After pouring a cup of steaming hot coffee, John turns around and offers it to the werewolf. Derek murmurs a quick thanks and joins him on the kitchen table. After a long time of silence, Derek counted 7 minutes, where John would just take small sips of his morning beverage and study Derek, the Sheriff speaks. “Tell me son, how long have you been in love with my boy?”, Derek falters and chokes on his coffee, the splashes burning the roof of his mouth and he has never been more thankful for werewolf healing than this moment. John chuckles and pats Derek on the back, not even feeling sorry at all for throwing the wolf into a loop.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about Sir.”

“Son, I know what I saw. Stiles and Scott cuddle each other all the time whenever they had sleepovers, but what I saw wasn’t just cuddling. You were holding onto my boy like he was the most important thing in your life. Now I’m going to ask again, how long have you been in love with my son?”

The Alpha pauses and the tip of his ears turn pink as he feels the heat crawl throughout his entire face. He couldn’t lie to this man. “I don’t know really. Probably since the first day I saw him on my family’s property.”

“Why Stiles?”, the Sheriff looked briefly behind Derek before meeting the werewolf’s eyes again. He wasn’t pulling any punches this morning, which is why Derek couldn’t stop looking at his face to hopefully try and portray what the still sleeping boy in the living room could mean to him.

“Because- because he’s Stiles.”, John raises his eyebrows at that, the clarification request not needing to be said.

“I love him because when I am with him, I start to love myself. I don’t know who I am anymore, but when he is with me, I’m know for a fact that I am good. I WANT to be good. I want to CONTINUE being good. For my pack and more importantly, for him. I like myself when I am with him, and at the end of the day, I smile because I know that he is in my life and it’s helping me so much to just become better. I spent so much time hating myself and thinking that I don’t deserve anything good, and I know I don’t deserve your son sir, but for some weird reason, he lets me be around him. It will take eons before I can repay your son for his heart. That’s why I love him. Because even though he could do so much better in regards to having someone like me in his life, he still allows me to be a part of it.”, Derek is panting now. He just spoke more than he has ever had in years. Right when he is about to continue he hears a stern voice behind him.

“You’re wrong!”

Derek turns around and his heart jumps to his throat. How did he not notice the boy standing there behind him? Stiles is looking at him with anger and his eyes are misty. His fists are clenched so hard that Derek can only imagine that the indents made on his palm from his nails must be so painful. Derek feels his heart drop immediately from his throat to the bottom of his stomach. Resignation marring his face as his eyes look to the tiled kitchen floor, “I’m sorry Stiles, I didn’t mean—“

“Who gave you the right to determine who I want in my life?”

The Alpha stared at the boy with awe. His jaw meeting his chest as he tried to come up with an answer. Before he could, he was met with whiskey brown eyes right in front of his face and a pair of beautiful hands cupping his cheeks. “You, Derek Hale, are GOOD”, there is a soft sound of a chair being pushed back as the Sheriff stands up and makes his way out of the kitchen with his cup of coffee, a smirk gracing his face as if he knew something all along.

“Stiles I-“

“No. You may be the most broodiest of broodsters, or the king of grumpyville, but you are in absolutely NO way NOT good.”, Stiles looks up to blink back the tears that threaten to fall. “You have been dealt with cards that would make even the most hardcore man fold. Yet, you still continue trying to do the right thing. You made a pack filled with people who just wanted a second chance in this world. You protect those close to your heart with everything that is in you. You, Derek, are the definition of what the word GOOD is.” The tears fall freely now as Stiles cradles the Alphas wobbling chin. “And you are definitely GOOD enough for me.”

Derek doesn’t waste a single moment as he mashes their lips together. He wraps his arms around the boys waist and the boy complies, straddling the werewolf’s hips as he throws one arm around Derek’s neck and tangles the fingers of his other hand through his hair, deepening the kiss. It’s only when they come back up for air when Stiles whispers, “and just for the record, I love you too, Sourwolf”

Derek playfully growls at the nickname that he was so used to hearing and nips at the boys chin. Trailing kisses down his long expansive neck that he has only been dreaming about for months. Stiles squeals out a laugh and it’s like music to Derek’s ears. “I did that,” he thinks. “I get to have this.” He feels like he is flying and he knows that his life is going to be okay. As long as he has Stiles, he can do or be anything.

Like I said, I can’t write worth JACK and I have no idea how to do plots and stuff. I just wanted to tell of the scenario in my head that I keep having whenever I listen to this song :P

[plutoandpolaris]

Martyr Part 2

Trying to smuggle someone who looks like they just walked out of an 80’s horror film though the human world wasn’t the easiest thing Marvin had ever done, but he managed. Still, he was relieved when they finally arrived at Stacy’s doorstep. It was a humble looking house, nothing too out of place in the suburban neighborhood, but the unnatural silence coming from inside made the magician’s breath hitch in his throat. All of the curtains were drawn and no lights were on, it was almost as if no one lived there at all. He laid his hand on the door, giving it a gentle knock. After a few short seconds it began to open, revealing an extremely tired looking and annoyed Stacy. “Whatever it is, the answer is no. I’m not getting involved with any of you.” Stacy began to shut the door before Marvin put his foot in it, surprising her some. “Look, Stacy, I don’t have a choice. You’re literally the only person left I can turn to. I have to put him-” Marvin gestured to the man behind him, who looked extremely out of place and uncomfortable, “-somewhere safe. You know as well as I do what Anti’ll do to him if he finds him. Please.” Stacy locked eyes with him for a moment, her face softening slightly. “Fine. Come in, and keep it down. The kids are asleep.” Marvin followed Stacy inside, closing the door and locking it behind him. The house was dark and unkempt, dishes piled next to the sink and an empty wine bottle tipped over on the dining table. All of the curtains were drawn and there were several places were pictures had been torn off of the wall. Stacy turned around, holding out her hand to the newcomer. He took it tentatively, obviously not sure what a handshake was. After a few awkward seconds Stacy turned back to Marvin, who had taken a spot on the couch. “What happened, this place looks like hell. No offense."  Stacy laughed slightly, collapsing on the couch next to him and running a hand through her hair. "None taken, it’s a shithole. Not much I can do about it though, I’m afraid to leave the house anymore and I’m down to three instant Mac and cheese packets and a half empty bottle of vodka that’s been in there so long it’s probably toxic.”

Marvin looked over at Stacy, only now realizing how bad she really looked. The bags under her eyes were so pronounced she looked like a corpse or someone who hadn’t slept for literal years. The usual defiant light in her eyes had all but gone out, their gentle green so washed out to the point it looked grey. “Holy hell, when was the last time you got some sleep?!” He asked, concern lacing his voice. “Not since the fucker showed up three days ago and threatened to hang my children, funny enough.” The words held no humor in them. She wasn’t joking. “Wait, Anti was here?! Seriously? Are you ok, did he hurt you, what happene-” Stacy interrupted him, standing back up so abruptly she almost knocked a glass mug off of a nearby endtable. “I’m fine, ok?! He didn’t hurt me, not physically anyway. I don’t want to talk about it.” She made her way across the room, picking up the tipped over wine bottle and throwing it into the trash before opening the nearly empty fridge and grabbing the vodka. “Didn’t you say that was toxic?” Marvin regarded her quizzically over the back of the couch, expression unreadable under his mask. Stacy laughed again as she set it on the table and collapsed into one of the wooden chairs. “Not like I have much to lose nowadays. What else are you supposed to do when you’re being stalked by a malevolent psychopathic demon out for your six year old child’s blood? You lock yourself inside your house and drink yourself to death.” Marvin shook his head, letting out exasperated sigh. “That’s exactly what not to do.” “Then what do I do?!” Stacy slammed the bottle back down so hard it almost broke, the venom in her voice clearly obvious. “I’m not like you. I don’t have magic, I don’t have any way of defending myself against a fucking demon. All I have is my baseball bat, two six year old children and this glass of vodka. What would you do?!”

“What ever happened to keeping it down,” he muttered, almost surprised at the bitterness in his tone. The worst part was, Marvin didn’t know. Hell, he did have magic and still got himself into this mess anyway. Stacy took his silence as an answer. “See, that’s what I thought.” Marvin thought for a second. Stacy was in no place to listen to reason, and he really couldn’t blame her. This whole thing had clearly taken a toll on her psyche and he sure as hell knew what that felt like. The only thing he could do was try to help her any way he could think of. “Look, I’ll go get you some groceries. In the meantime, look after the new guy and try to take a nap or something. We’re not going to stand any chance if you’re this sleep deprived. It’ll help you think clearer.” Stacy seemed to contemplate this for a moment before turning to him. “Alright, fine.” She paused for a moment, scribbling a list down on a scrap of paper and shoving it, along with a handful of bills, into Marvin’s hand. “It’s not much but it should get us through the week.” Marvin looked over the bills and the list, giving Stacy one more sympathetic look before making his way out the door.

____________________________________________ Grocery shopping was mostly uneventful, but Marvin couldn’t keep his mind off of Stacy. Anti had been there, at her house. What on earth could he want with her? Sure, she was a bargaining chip for Chase but besides that she’d stayed mostly uninvolved. “He threatened to hang my children.” Her words made him physically sick. Anti was a psychopathic murderer who fed off of the pain and suffering of his victims but killing children was a level Marvin didn’t think even he would stoop to. After wandering around the local Whole Foods for at least an hour he had found everything he needed, paying with Stacy’s money and hurrying back to her house as fast as he possibly could. The scene he entered to was a lot better than what he expected. The new ego was sat on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a mug of coffee in his lap while Stacy worked on dishes in the kitchen. “I’m back!” Marvin announced, setting the plastic bags down on the counter. Stacy turned to him, looking much better than she had before. The bags under her eyes were still noticeable and present but not nearly as bad, and she had changed into something clean. “How have things been with him?” Marvin motioned to the man on the couch, who turned to regard them intently. Stacy finished the dish she was working on, turning back around to lean on the counter and fish through the bags Marvin had brought. “Decently. We have a name, at least. He says his name is Robbie.” “Robbie the Zombie. Real creative,” Marvin muttered under his breath. Stacy heard him, giggling a little herself. “We also learned he can’t have hot beverages, they burn through his throat. He seems to be fine though, I didn’t even notice until he turned around and saw the hole in his neck.” It was only then that Marvin realized the gauze bandage wrapped around Robbie’s neck, slightly stained with blood and the remnants of the coffee Stacy had given him. “If you can’t have hot drinks, why do you still have that coffee with you?” Marvin asked, making his way around the couch to look down at him from behind.

Robbie looked down at the mug in his lap, wrapping his hands around it. “I like the warmth, it’s comforting.” Marvin smiled a little, glancing back at Stacy. She had begun to put the groceries away, filling up the mostly empty pantry shelves.  “Do you have any coffee left? I haven’t had it in months. Funnily enough they don’t have coffee machines in the alternate hell dimension Anti’s been keeping us in.” Stacy laughed a little, but it seemed almost hollow. “Sure, there’s some still in the machine. Careful, I just made it, it’s still hot.” Marvin made his way to the counter, pouring a full mug and downing it immediately. Stacy was right, it was hot, but he really didn’t care. The burn was actually welcome, it helped ground him. “Geez Marv, slow down. You’ll hurt yourself,” Stacy chided, giving him a slight tap on the shoulder. Marvin glanced into the near empty mug before placing it in the sink. “I think we all inherited Seán’s coffee addiction. All except for Robbie, I suppose.” They went silent for awhile, absentmindedly watching whatever strange reality show was on the TV. After awhile, Stacy seemed to remember something. Her faint smile evaporated immediately as she turned to him, lowering her voice so Robbie couldn’t hear her. “While you were out I tried to explain to him about all of this demon possession youtube internet bullshit but even I don’t understand it all that well. He deserves to know, but you can explain it better than I can. At least try.” Marvin paused for a moment, studying Robbie from the other side of the couch. He was curled into his blanket, seemingly half asleep. “Alright. Can I borrow your phone? I might need it.” Stacy looked at him quizzically for a moment before digging into her back pocket and handing it to him. Marvin took it, carefully making his way around the couch to claim a spot beside Robbie. “Hey there. How have you been settling in?” Marvin spoke softly, making sure to remove his mask and place it on the side table. He could tell that Robbie was spooked by it, and the more comfortable he was the smoother this conversation was going to go. “Ok, I guess? Stacy is nice, even if I don’t understand half of the things she’s trying to tell me,” He fiddled absentmindedly with the bandages on his neck, his voice significantly raspier than the last time Marvin had heard it. “Well, I’m going to try to explain this all to you the best way I know how. It’s going to be confusing, and I don’t expect you to understand it all at once. But you deserve to know where you came from.”

Oh yeah, this bitch is gonna need three parts, at least. Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion!

@fear-is-nameless @molly-pond-holmes

@where-did-the-good-ones-go

@magic-marvin-protection-patrol

@mysteriousdogduo

@robthezombie-support-squad

Part 1:

https://plutoandpolaris.tumblr.com/post/166083171681/martyr-part-1-so-ive-been-inspired-by-the-new

Part 3:

https://plutoandpolaris.tumblr.com/post/166083193011/martyr-part-3-marvin-started-from-the-beginning

[marksleepy]

increasing affections

genre: fluff, songfic (nct 127 - once again) word count: 1,662 main character: taeil, Y/N side characters: doyoung, seulgi, taeyong listen to this if you want: audio

pinkhairedminyoongi’s gif

The sea glistens under the sun. The waves throw themselves angrily on the shore, threatening to demolish children’s sandcastles that are a little too near the shoreline. Beachgoers stroll along the seashore, the girls not failing to show off their brand new swimsuits. You lie under the parasol, which is doing a poor job of shading you. You can already foresee the tan line cutting across your shins, but who cares? Summer is finally here. No longer do you have to worry about forgetting a coat at home, which once led to you suffering from a frostbite (okay, maybe not). You can’t wait to stick your tongue into a nice swirl of art—in this case, it’s ice cream and not the whipped cream resting atop a cup of hot chocolate.

You sit up straight on the white beach chair. The sun is shining so brightly, you struggle to keep both eyes open. Your ‘Keep the Good Vibes Rolling’ shirt clings to your back and you scan the beach for familiar faces. The people you came with had opted to frolic in the ocean instead of lazing on the shore, leaving you with only your thoughts for company. Lying back down, you tug off the sunglasses from your greasy hair and shield your eyes from the rays.

“Having fun over there?” someone to your right asks. You turn to see a shirtless Taeil, beads of perspiration racing down his face, chest, everywhere. Quickly lying back down again, you observe the people playing with a beach ball a few metres away to avoid looking at him.

“Real fun.” You lift your legs in a way where your knees are like mountain tops and pat grains of sand off. He sits down on the beach chair next to yours and leans towards you, resting his elbows on his thighs. You can feel him staring and burning holes through you. “Feels good to be here again, doesn’t it?” Taeil questions. He reaches for the bag of thirst quenchers and pulls out a can of Coke.

“Definitely,” you say. “The heat is killing me, though.” The sun had become an enemy instead of your constant companion during the colder days.

He chuckles into his drink before pushing it towards you. “Want a sip?”

The blood drains from your face. Then again, what harm can a sip from your friend’s drink do? You grab the sweating can from Taeil’s outstretched hand. Why the hell not? It’s not like you have a huge, enormous, massive crush on him anyway. As the cold metal touches your lips and the fizzy beverage flows down your throat, the rest of the gang comes back one by one.

“I need a drink. I’m dehydrated as f—,” Doyoung pauses. “French bread.”

Seulgi raises a brow before chortling. “Same, actually,” she adds.

Taeyong flops down next to Taeil, pulling cans of drinks out and throwing one to each person. As you breathe in the salty air, you watch your friends laugh over a joke Doyoung shared. It’s certainly a superb idea to spend summer with the ones who have stuck by you since the first year of high school. Your gaze slowly falls on Taeil, who is already staring at you. The smile that played on his lips disappears as he swiftly looks away. You feel the corners of your mouth lifting.

Your friends run towards to sea after the break under the parasol. Taeil lies down next to you on his beach chair with his eyes closed. “Aren’t you going to join them?” you query, flipping a strand of hair out of your face.

“Nah.” His eyes stay closed. “I’m, um, quite tired.”

You and Taeil stay silent. A flock of seagulls flies pass. You let the sound of the waves fill your ears as you remove your shades and look at Taeil. His brown hair sticks to his forehead, his face red from the heat. Resting your chin in your palm, you pick up his can of Coke and presses it against his cheek. He shoots up as if he got electrocuted. You dissolve into a puddle of laughter, the drink shaking dangerously in your hand. Taeil grabs your wrist and peels the can out of your grip. Bending down, he snatches another can from the ground and presses them on both your cheeks, making you look like a pufferfish. He laughs, revealing his row of pearly whites. You feel a little lightheaded, and it is assuredly not from the summer heat.

“Get off!” you laugh as you push Taeil away. He drops the cans and the two of you roared with laughter. The sticky drink splashes on your feet. But you lie back down on your beach chair, enjoying his presence, the beach, just everything at the moment.

Nature decides to bring the rain one afternoon when you are going back home from shopping at the mall with Seulgi. She took off earlier, claiming she has to babysit her neighbour’s rowdy tots. So there you are, armed with three shopping bags and no umbrella. You certainly didn’t expect it to rain today. Where are all the shelters when you need them? As you run, you literally run into someone.

“Sorry!” Your purchases spill all over the soaking wet ground, one landing just centimetres away from a puddle.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” a familiar voice speaks. You divert your attention away from your soggy items and lift your head up a little bit to see Taeil. He looks at you through his damp eyelashes apologetically before bending down to pick up your stuff sprawled on the ground. You join him, suddenly wanting the two of you to stand in the rain to experience each drop from the heavens. You stand up and tilt your head up to the sky, letting the rain cover your face.

Taeil bonks you on the head with his knuckle. “Come on.” He wraps his hand around your wrist, his other hand full with your shopping bags. Then both of you start running. Your heart beats wildly as you inhale faster. You indulge in a grin before you laughter hits you full on. Taeil glances at you and chokes out a laugh. By the time you found a bus shelter that is surprisingly deserted, both of you are drenched to the skin. His breath comes out in small spurts, and your hands itch push his fringe out of his eyes.

“That was amusing.” Taeil cracks a smile. The bags squelched as they are placed on the orange bench.

You eyeball his mucky sneakers. “Guess we’d have to stay here until the rain lets up,” you say. You wait for him to say something, listening to the rain hit the ground, almost sounding like logs crackling in a fireplace. He shifts slightly as red coats his ears.

“I don’t mind.”

A single droplet of water trickles down your bicep.

“Me neither.”

Tonight you are at a party held by one of Doyoung’s friends. Your left palm hugs a red plastic cup of punch while you tap your other hand on the countertop you are leaning against. As you watch people bop to the powerful music, you spot Taeil leaning against the wall, engaged in a conversation. You give him a little wave, and he seems almost relieved. After excusing himself, he walks towards you.

“Thanks for saving me,” he says, using his thumb to point behind him. “I couldn’t hear what he was saying half the time. Felt awkward having to keep telling him to repeat himself.”

“Er, what did you say?” you joke. He hit your shoulder lightly, sending a chill from where he touched down to your toes. You had chosen to wear a sleeveless dress this warm evening, but you were worried it might have been a little too showy. Judging from what most girls are wearing, you change your mind.

Taeil says something incoherent. You make an ‘I can’t hear you properly’ gesture. He steps forward and leans towards you. Cupping your left ear, he says, “It’s getting a little stuffy. Wanna get out of here?” You just nod, too freaked out to say anything. You place the cup of overly sweetened punch down and follow him out of the crowded house. Your bare arms are caressed by the cool night breeze. You shiver involuntarily. Taeil walks to the lawn in front of the house and lays down. It was empty if not for the black cat resting on the brown fence nearby. Taeil looks over at you and pats the spot next to him.

You lie down beside him, the damp grass poking your shoulder blades. The stars flicker in the dark sky like dying fairy lights. You can hear soft breaths of Taeil by your side. This isn’t like any of those movies you see in the theatres where the guy and the girl would sit on the roof, not fearing for their lives whatsoever. This is your very own movie, lying down in front of someone’s house beside someone you fancy. It is exhilarating. You ignore how messed up your dress is going to be, how gross your hair is going to get, and absorb the moment as it is.

You glance at him as he gazes in awe at the diamonds above. Then, he licks his lips and steals a glance at yours before closing the distance between the two of you. His lips are warm like the season. You reach over and cup his face, drawing him closer than he already is. You close your eyes and focus on what is happening, savouring every second of it. He pulls away and caresses your cheek.

“I like you,” he mumbles, words shaky.

That summer, just like the stars, you had fallen even harder for him.

[lukasthemedic]

Christmas Party

Original post - 2019 ao3 works

Jefferson/Mad Hatter & Killian Jones/Captain Hook crack prompt fic

Prompts: We both wore ugly sweaters to this christmas party because the invitation didn’t say it’s formal, and, you slipped on a patch of ice and I happened to be walking behind you and you fell into my arms wow you’re really attractive

After almost a year of successfully not having any more hiccups in Storybooke, it felt almost cynical to believe that the worst was over and maybe life was actually, truly, normal. As normal as you could get, at this point. No more curses, no more good and evil, just everyone getting along. Of course, that didn’t mean that there weren’t still grudges, and that some people had issues that weren’t fixable. Jefferson held a little tighter to Grace’s hand as they approached the gloomy, daunting gate of Regina’s mansion of a house. Not that Jefferson couldn’t compare, with the size of the estate that Regina originally stuck him here with. Life was a little easier now that he was able to share it with Grace, though he never saw that happening. He thought with the curse, came sadness and grief forever, but Emma changed that when she was able to lift it. Even then, after an number of tasks before everyone, it seemed like ages before Jefferson was reunited with his daughter, but he would have fought everyday to get her back in his life. Every second of misery was worth it for the hatter.

“Papa, did you pack the cookies we made for Henry and his moms?” Grace questioned, adjusting her scarf around her neck, nose red from the chills of the wind walking from where they had to park just down the street.

Jefferson smiled and gently shook a silver tin that he carried near his side. “Of course my dear Grace, I wouldn’t forget them. Regina might have killed me if I didn’t bring our required dessert.” He mumbled the last part mostly to himself, and walked along side more of the guests that had been invited to Regina and Emma’s Christmas party. Before he could make sense of what was happening, someone in front of them slid on a patch of ice, falling back from the steps leading up to the door. Jefferson was quick to catch whomever was flailing limbs in the air, and quickly steadied himself before falling into a pile of cookies and bodies. Grace would be so disappointed if the cookies didn’t make it to the party.

Jefferson huffed, making sure to steady himself on his knee. The man looked up towards Jefferson’s face, smirking dryly. “Jefferson.” The pirate coyly stated.

“Killian.” The hatter muttered, helping the captain back to his feet, and dusting off the snow from his legs, readjusting the scarf around his own neck, and ensuring that Grace was still standing. It was Grace’s stifled giggle that made everyone else nervously laugh, before stepping into the open door of the home. It took one second for Jefferson to catch the look on Regina’s face before he realized what was happening.

A quiet buzz of music played in the house, and Jefferson took Grace’s scarf and coat before she quickly ran off with Henry and the tin of cookies to go find more of their friends. Killian cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, before choking back another fit of laughter as he looked at Jefferson.

“What happened to you two?” Regina scoffed, relaxing as Emma pulled her closer with an arm around her waist. Regina was formally dressed in a skin tight olive green dress, and Emma was in red. Guests all around the house were dressed in formal, and semi formal attire, and everyone looked fabulous Jefferson thought to himself. “Such a lavish party, Regina, I’m impressed.” The hatter managed to say between pursed lips. He flicked a glistening invitation towards Regina’s face, his own starting to turn red, burning his cheeks like hot fire. “A joke, perhaps?” He tried to maintain his calmness, remembering how far he has come from the person he used to be. Emma bit the inside of her lip, taking the invitation from Regina’s hand and looking it over quickly before handing it back to Jefferson.

“I think some of Henry’s original invitations got mixed in with the new ones before we sent them out. An honest mistake I’m sure.” Emma held back laughter, but she almost couldn’t help herself. “You guys look great.” She burst out, doubling over in laughter, causing more guests to turn their heads. Jefferson became more uncomfortable, but adjusted the sweater he had previously spent weeks picking out just for the party. It was ungodly, and absolutely hideous, but it was perfect for the occasion. The ugliest sweater that he had ever found, and very in tune for the Christmas season. But it almost didn’t compare to the one that Killian was wearing. Jefferson did almost crack something resembling a smile when he took another look at Killian, whom looked just as ridiculous as Jefferson.

“Glad I could be of your amusement.” Killian mockingly half bowed, feeling as though he was being caught in the middle of a joke. “If I may though, my loves, be excused for a drink.”

“There is a hot beverage bar in the dining lounge, dinner is nearly ready to be served if you would like to find something before we all set the tables.” Regina nodded towards the living area where sparkling decorations were hung all around and friends and foes alike were crowded together smiling and laughing while they put their differences aside to celebrate the holidays together. Jefferson was flushed hot and his head was aching with embarrassment, as he considered fleeing out the front door and locking himself in his home after made to look like a fool, but remembered Grace was along with her friends. He spotted her, Henry and other classmates around the fireplace with cups of overflowing hot chocolate and marshmallows. Her smile was radiating and by seeing how much joy was brought to her spending time with her friends, he felt selfish for getting so upset over something so small. He was used to being well dressed though and respected here, and after being a mockery for so many years and the pawn in so many games before, he felt threatened and much like he used to so many years before in his life.

Jefferson made himself a cup of hot tea and stirred some sugar in, watching others from his place against the wall. He began to relax more as he saw a few others emerge in the crowds of people, wearing ugly Christmas sweaters as well. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, maybe getting to know those in Storybooke wouldn’t be so bad. Everyone was different, they all remembered who they were now, but they were also new, changed in a way. These weren’t just the same people that he had seen all the years before from different realms, they were new creations of the people they had once been. But Jefferson couldn’t help but remember everything he was forced to never forget about all these people around him, and that was something he would always be cursed with. He would never forget anything, and that made it just as hard to learn to trust anyone again.

“Guess were not the only ones that didn’t get the memo, love.” Hook said as Jefferson jerked back to look towards him. He was pouring rum into a cup of hot chocolate. He stabbed a marshmallow with his hook and swirled it around the cup before plopping it into his mouth and taking a big gulp of his concoction. The hatter rolled his eyes, but relaxed as he looked back up again and met the eyes of the captain.

“I suppose you’re right.” Jefferson said flatly, adjusting the scarf again, becoming slightly uncomfortable feeling the pirate stare back at him. It was in this moment that Jefferson really took in Killian. He sees him out in the town every once in awhile, usually causing some sort of trouble, and getting into arguments with Emma. But something was different about him in the way that he looked at the hatter, something was lighter, more natural. The captain cocked his head to the side, grinning. “Taking it all in, are we?” He joked, twirling his hook in the air and doing a full spin while Jefferson let out a dry laugh.

“Actually, maybe so.” Jefferson admitted, looking past the pirate to do a mental check on Grace before bringing himself back to his drink. The captain stopped moving, and leaned himself against the wall next to the hatter. He drew his eyes up to Jefferson and let them stay there in that moment. He could feel his heart racing, letting his imagination run with wilderness for the first time in ages.

“Is that so, hatter.” Killian traces his hook up against the rough outline of Jefferson’s jaw, before dropping it back down to his side, taking another brave drink of his rum and hot chocolate.

“Menus are being placed, if everyone wants to join us at the tables.” Jefferson can hear Emma announcing to the party, and clicks of heels begin towards the dining area as guests start to make their ways to the tables and finding friends they wish to dine with. He wants to move, but he feels frozen in this moment, and it sparks something deep inside of him that he hasn’t been able to feel in such a long while.

“Could I trouble you for your company during dinner?” Killian suggests, motioning towards the direction that everyone is headed.

It is in that moment, that Jefferson decides he either has to take a leap and trust his instinct or stay stuck in the same rabbit hole he’s been stuck in for years, and he isn’t afraid of change he decides, not anymore. He swiftly grabs the captain by a fistful of his ugly sweater and pulls his face as close as possible, closing the distance between the two men by hastily placing his lips against the pirate’s. He can taste rum and warmth and adventure. He draws a breath in before pulling himself inches away from the captain and he almost feels a little more empty than before, wishing for the rush again with the familiar smell of Killian. Deep wood, sea salt, and sweet alcohol. He could live in this moment forever.

“Dinner, and maybe more following.” Jefferson shakily breaths out, his face turning a deep scarlet as he catches Regina eyeing their close distance on her way towards the tables. Killian runs his hands against his lips, wishing they didn’t feel so shattered and heavy after Jefferson parted with them. He waited a lifetime for this moment, and he could live a thousand of them over just to have it again.

They find themselves surrounded by friends, taking seats together at the table, and Jefferson could swear he feels the heavy staring of the captain for the most part of the meal when he isn’t catching himself looking back into his eyes. Something has definitely changed between them, that spark, and Jefferson can’t wait to discover what more comes from their encounter. He is, after all, welcoming the change.