#put his feet in the sand and drink margaritas

[zed-sabre]

unrestrained summer fun

[johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend]

heyy, could you write something based on their trip to curaçao including fluff and maybe smut <33

cake by the ocean - hamzahthefantastic x reader

CONTAINS: fluff, smut, p in v, oral (f recieving), slight breeding kink, fingering, etc you'll find out

WC: 1.7k

story below the cut

the sun beamed high and bright, radiating warmth throughout your body. your tired feet ached as you kept walking, sandals digging sand into your skin. birds were chirping as you felt the salty breeze and humidity of the island.

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you, hamzah, mandy and martin had spent the whole morning riding a bus to swim with the turtles. as vibrant and beautiful as it was, it left you all hungry and sunburnt. as you came out of the water, you realized you still had a good 2 hours before the next bus came to take you back to the rental house.

mandy, being the mom of the group, pulled out her phone and started searching for nearby restaurants. "so, i found this place close to us and it has pretty good reviews." martin peered over her shoulder, "yeah looks nice, we can just go there. you guys good with that?" you nodded in agreement.

and that led you to where you were right now. the walk out of the beach is always harder than the walk in. you were most likely going to have a swimsuit rash. mandy and martin held the gps, walking in the front. "hey, you okay?" hamzah says, wrapping an arm around you and effectively snapping you out of your thoughts.

"yeah, no matter how much sunscreen i put, i just always manage to get burnt." he raises an eyebrow at you "okay but look at me." you take him in for a second. the sun might've actually blessed him, perfectly leaving the right amount of red on his face and his shoulders. "yeah well, it looks perfect on you." you say, making his smile and plant a kiss on your wet hair, walking hand in hand the rest of the way.

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it was a charming little open-air restaurant, with fans in the corners of the ceiling to keep you from overheating. reggae music played in the background as your waiter seated the four of you.

you each got margaritas, and food, not caring that it was only 1 p.m. you took a sip of yours, and it was good, but you couldn't help but look at your boyfriend's drink. you turn to him, "can i just try a little bit of yours?" giving him a smile. unimpressed, he passes it to you. you take a lot more than a sip, because his was really fruity. "alright, alright, thats enough." he takes the straw out of your mouth. "come on, how are yours always so much better than mine? can we maybe swap..." hamzah was not surprised this happened. it happened at every place you went to, and being the amazing boyfriend he is, he shrugged and agreed. he would do anything to see the cute smile you give him.

you finish eating your food, leaving some of it because you were too stuffed. martin and mandy are having their own conversation as you stare at hamzah, going ham on his burger. how did you get so lucky with a guy like him? you took off his hat (finally) and stared at his curls, running your fingers through his hair. the saltwater made them even more beautiful. you two had started going to the gym together, and you noticed his arms were slightly more toned than before. his brown eyes meet yours;

"are you gonna finish that?" he points to your plate. you look down at his plate and the food is gone. you laugh a little, and pass your unfinished meal to him. "nope i'm done." you grin and pat him on the back. it was nice that he ate your leftover food, as you felt bad for leaving it.

you looked over to martin, tapped out after attempting to eat it all but failing miserably. you guys split the check, obviously sharing with your boyfriend and then leave soon after.

the bus ride was calming for the most part, as you four were the only people on it. there was enough space for 2 people on each side, so you just sat across from eachother. "i can'tttt mandy i ate too much." he whines closing his eyes and holding his stomach. "oh my gosh why do you always do this?"

you tune out the other voices and focus on yourself. you feel your head fall fowards a bit before jolting it back, and hamzah notices. "just use my shoulder baby." he mutters to you, resting your head. with another hour to go until you get back, you eventually fall asleep on his arm.

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you feel someone stir beneath you. waking up, you open your eyes to find yourself on the couch, hamzah's arms wrapped around you. "wanna get out of here?" he asks you. you grab your phone, looking at the time. it was around 7 p.m. meaning you had slept for about 3 hours. "yeah sure." you reply, still groggy.

you take his hand as he leads you out the door, walking by martin and his family playing pool. stepping out on the stone path, the sky is lit with hues of orange, pink and blue, as the sun was setting. you walk to the closest beach, less than a minute away. "wait follow me, i found a private place." there is a smaller portion of the beach, hidden by plants and flowers. you both have clothes on, but still have your bathing suits underneath. the waves calm down, gently crashing against the rocks.

he takes a seat in the sand, just deep enough for the water to touch his legs. you situate yourself next to him, staring at the sunset. he was the first to speak, "i love you so much. you know that right?" "mhm, but i love you more" you say, leaving a kiss on his cheek. "y/n, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me." he places his hand on yours. "and this place is great, i can't wait to bring our kids here one day."

"yeah, me too."

the two of you had talked about this before. you were surely going to marry eachother, and have children, but with the channel going on and the fact that you were both young, you had agreed to wait. that didn't mean you couldn't have fun though. you had been taking birth control anyways, and hamzah knew about that.

"hey, we will soon." you whisper to him, staring into his eyes. you take off your shirt and descend waist deep into the water. the big rocks had blocked off the harsh waves for the most part, so it was almost like a little swimming pool. the water was lukewarm, which surprised you as there was almost no more sun.

after a few minutes, he takes off his shirt, getting behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. he plants kisses on your jaw and down your neck. you turn to face him, kissing him passionately. it starts to get more intense as he slips his tongue in your mouth. he grabs your ass, encouraging you to hop up on him. you do so and wrap your legs around his hips. he takes you out of the water, kissing your collarbone. "baby let me eat you out please" he hums on your skin. you nod as he sits on the sand, guiding you on top of him. he pulls the strings of your floral bikini top, making it fall off.

hamzah puts it aside as he kisses you, fondling your breasts. he rolls the tips with his fingers as you moan out in pleasure. he then takes one in his mouth, showing the other the same affection. this causes you to start grinding on his bulge. he stops and lays down, pulling you closer to his face. he looks up at you, pulling off your bikini bottoms. you hover over him, not wanting to crush him. he notices this and takes both hands, forcing your weight down on his mouth. you groan out in pleasure.

he starts lapping at your wet cunt while you grind on his face slightly. "m'fuck hamzah just like that" your praise makes him eat you out harder, wanting nothing more than to please you. your hands are on his curls, occasionally pulling tight, causing him to grunt out which sends vibrations to your pussy. the sight alone could make you finish. "i'm gonna-" you whimper, not being able to finish your sentence before cumming on his face. he's not done with you just yet as he moves you aside for a second, taking off his trunks. he pushes you down on the sand, one hand holding your arm down and the other stroking himself. he teases you with his tip, covering it in your wet slick.

''i'm gonna fuck you so hard y/n." he looks to you for approval before slowly inserting himself in you. his length always surprises you, and he gives you a few seconds to adjust before starting to thrust into you. he moans, "you're so tight" his kisses trail downwards from your mouth to your chest, thrusting faster and harder. your overstimulated clit couldn't handle it much longer. "h-hamzah" you moan. "hold on baby m'wait a little longer."

he goes faster, hitting that right spot every time. you feel the knot in your stomach about to come undone. his hand moves to your pussy, rubbing in circles. all that could be heard was grunts and moans from the both of you. "you like that huh?" he says, in more of a knowing way. his words make you orgasm. he follows after a few more thrusts, releasing all of his cum inside you. he takes his length out of you, quickly plugging the hole with his finger, letting his cum stay there. he gets off of you, falling to the side.

"i love you," you both say in unison, laughing at the fact that you said it at the same time.

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hamzah opens the door to the house, letting you walk in front of him before closing it behind you.

"where the hell have you guys been?"

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thank you so so so so much for requesting and i finally got around to itttt sorry im so lazy guys but why are there no hamzah fics tf? i had to feed u guys. SEND ME MORE REQUESTS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 10: The Beach

"Don't even think about it, Potter," Draco warned, taking half a dozen steps back and holding out his hands to ward off his menace of a husband. (Yes, husband. They'd gotten married the day before and Draco was still basically in a state of shock.)

Harry pouted at him, "But-"

"No," he repeated. "You are soaked and you're covered in sand."

Harry pushed his wet curls back off his face and gave him that grin, the one that turned Draco's will into complete mush. "Come on," he cajoled. "Come have a swim with me."

Draco ignored him and opened his bag, pulling out a beach chair, then a massive umbrella, followed by a novel, and then a travel mug margarita. "I told you when you begged to go to the beach for our honeymoon," he said as he set up his chair and stuck the umbrella into the sand, "Malfoys burn in the sun. Not all of us can have gorgeous bronze complexions like gods," he grumbled.

Harry stepped toward him and Draco held out his hand, making a little force field wandlessly.

"You are not allowed to touch me when you're all wet," he repeated with a shake of his head.

"One kiss," Harry wheedled. "I'll keep my hands behind my back," he said, demonstrating the action, "and the only part of my body to touch yours will be my lips."

Draco rolled his eyes but his whole body warmed pleasantly at the thought of Harry's lips on his like he'd just taken a shot of fire whiskey. "Fine," he replied with a put upon sigh that Harry saw right through. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Harry's.

(More below the cut)

After a second, Draco gave in and cupped Harry's face, pressing their bodies together from chest to thigh. He couldn't help himself.

He pulled back minutely, "Hold me, you brat," he said, before leaning in to kiss Harry again.

Harry huffed a laugh against his lips before wrapping Draco tight in his arms and holding him close. And Draco loved this, loved being held in Harry's (his husband's!) arms, loved feeling weightless and free, knowing that he had made his life his own.

"Godric, I love you," Harry sighed against the tender spot just to the left of Draco's mouth, the bristles of his beard rasping against Draco's sensitive skin.

"I love you, too," Draco replied. "Even if you did just get me all wet and sandy."

Harry laughed, his breath warm against Draco's cheek; he left a kiss on Draco's temple before pulling back. He took a step away and waved a hand at Draco's body and the warmth of Harry's magic washed over him, drying him and blowing the sand away. "Are you sure I can't tempt you with a swim?" he asked, nodding his head toward the ocean.

"Positive. I prefer not shedding my skin like a snake after it's been burned to a crisp."

Harry huffed, "There are charms for that, you know."

"They don't work," Draco replied, slipping his sunglasses down over his eyes before settling into his chair. "I'm fine," he said, shooing Harry away. "You go play in the ocean and I'll read Pansy's latest," he said, holding up the paperback he'd brought along.

Harry bent over him and brushed his lips over Draco's, "I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yes," he murmured, leaning up to peck Harry's lips one more time. "Go."

Harry started away, turning his head to call over his shoulder, "Admit it. You just like to watch my arse as I walk away."

He huffed a laugh but it didn't stop him from watching Harry walk toward the ocean.

-----------

They'd spent the afternoon by the ocean, Harry playing in the water and returning to Draco to steal his drink and get him covered in salty ocean water and sand. After the beach they'd gone to dinner, then wandered around the little town, popping into shops and stopping for coffee, then ice cream, before heading back to the little villa they were staying at.

Draco collapsed on the sofa, feeling full and happy.

Harry flopped down on top of him, pressing him into the soft white cushions.

"Oof," he grumbled but he wrapped his arms around Harry and held him tight so he didn't move.

Harry nuzzled into Draco's neck, "You smell like the ocean."

"Do I?" Draco asked, amused, stroking his fingers through Harry's curls.

Harry nodded and his body relaxed further, and Draco gladly accepted the pleasant weight of him.

After a few minutes of quiet cuddles and soft kisses, Harry stood up and tugged Draco up after him. "Come on," he said.

"Come where?" he said, trying to pull him back to the sofa. Or perhaps the hot tub.

The other man huffed at him and then just scooped him up. Draco shrieked, "Put me down! This is not dignified."

"Nope," Harry replied, carrying him out to the balcony, then down the steps. "You have no more excuses," he informed him. "You are getting in the ocean with me."

Draco kicked his legs, instinctively wanting to fight with him, "There's still sand and water."

"Neither of which will cause sunburn or peeling," Harry replied as he set him on his feet. Harry reached for the hem of his own shirt, pulling it up over his head and knocking his glasses off.

"That's just plain manipulative," Draco replied as Harry's torso was revealed. Harry knew that Draco stood no chance of resisting him when he stood there all muscles and gorgeous skin just waiting to be caressed by Draco's hands.

His laugh rang out, warm and pleased, "You should get undressed too," he informed him as his hands started to undo the button and zip on his trousers. "You're going in the ocean whether you're out of that handsome outfit or not."

"Handsome, hmm?" he asked as he pulled his own shirt over his head.

"Yes," Harry replied easily. "You are the most gorgeous person I've ever met. Regardless of what you're wearing."

Draco shook his head at him and leaned in to peck a kiss to his lips.

Harry pulled back before they could get more invested in the kiss, "Come on," he said again, stepping back then making eye contact with Draco as he hooked his thumbs in his pants and pushed them off. "Don't keep me waiting," he added with a wink before turning and walking away without a backward glance, knowing full well Draco would follow.

He stripped out of his clothes embarrassingly quickly, stumbling a bit in the sand as his foot got stuck in his pants. Once he'd gotten them kicked off and righted himself, he looked up to see that Harry was standing in water up to his hips, staring out at the vastness of the ocean.

Draco had always thought of Harry as more like the sun; warm and consuming, his light illuminating everything around him, making new life bloom. But perhaps he was like the moon, too, Draco thought. Quiet, steady, pulling Draco in the same way the moon moved the waves.

Either way he was beautiful.

He made his way out to the other man and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, pressing his front to Harry's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

Harry leaned back against him and covered Draco's arms with his own, "Took you long enough," he murmured.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked, kissing the tender spot on Harry's neck where his shoulder and neck met.

Harry turned in his arms, "That I love you," he said softly, stroking his warm, wet hands down Draco's neck and over his chest. "That life is beautiful and full of meaning when you have someone to share it with. I was thinking that you have filled up my life with joy, and laughter, and love in ways that I never knew I needed. That I knew what it was to love but not what it was to be loved, not like this anyway," he added, brushing his hands over Draco's ribs. "I was thinking that I was glad to be alive."

Draco didn't know what to say, never knew what to say when Harry said words like those to him. He'd never imagined that anyone could feel those things for him and if anyone did, it certainly shouldn't have been Harry.

"I was also thinking," Harry said, before Draco could come up with a reply, "That it's ridiculous that you agreed to come to the beach for our honeymoon, when you obviously hate it so much."

"But I love you," he said easily. "And I love seeing you here. You're so," he trailed off, searching for the right word, "free here. And I genuinely do not mind sitting under an umbrella and drinking all day while you get gorgeously tan. The bathing trunks you have don't hurt anything either," he teased.

Harry kissed him lightly, "You want to know the truth?"

"Yes," he breathed, brushing his nose along Harry's and closing his eyes as he rested their foreheads together.

"Anywhere I am with you, I am free," he said. "You've set me free from bars that I never knew were holding me, Draco Malfoy."

"That's Draco Potter, to you," he whispered. "And you've set me free, too."

Day 9: Nose Kisses | Day 11: Pinky Promise

[atths--twice]

Quiet, Soft

Needing a break from living life on the run in motel rooms, Mulder and Scully venture out to a different living environment.

A few weeks ago, I was driving home and decided to listen to a 90s playlist on Amazon and heard the song in this story. I was instantly back to nights of parties and having fun with friends. When being in my twenties was the best and life was easier. 

THEN, it made me think of MSR, out in the world enjoying places from my own memories.

Hope you enjoy. 

August 2003

The air around them was warm, stars filling the sky. There was word of a meteor shower happening later and they were sitting out waiting for it. Well, he was anyway. He was not sure Scully was even thinking about it anymore. Currently, she was swaying to the music echoing from across the river.

Two weeks ago they had been leaving a motel room, after an exceptionally long stay, and she had sighed as they put their bags into the car. Looking at her, she had shaken her head and sighed again.

"What is it?" he had asked.

"I don't know," she had answered. "I feel like we were here for too long or something. It’s a small town and thankfully people left us alone, but something feels… off. I know I wasn't always overly excited about our past trips to the forest, but I feel the time in the motel here has left me wishing for some fresh air." She shrugged and he nodded in understanding.

"Well, we do have the tent with us. We could head to the forest if that’s what you want." He had raised his eyebrows and smiled, knowing that was not exactly what she had been implying.

"I wouldn't go that far," she had said with a laugh, as they got into the car and shut the doors. "Something different would be nice, though I’ll never admit that I want to camp out in the woods." She had smiled at him and he nodded, his mind already thinking of what they could do.

After some discussion, they rented a cabin cruiser boat from a jovial, red cheeked man on a large river, despite Mulder’s tendency toward seasickness. They had stayed both on the boat and also camped out in their tent on little sandbars or grassy picnic areas with public bathrooms and showers.

About halfway down the river, there was a small dock. A path led up to a small convenience store where Scully stocked up on supplies, bringing them back to the boat with a happy smile.

Food and other necessities procured, they had driven around the river, the wind blowing through their hair as Scully laughed happily, her arm around his waist. Other times they had floated lazily, the boat rocking as Scully lay on the bow of the boat on a towel in a bikini, the sun warming her skin, as he had walked over to join her on silent bare feet with a bottle of sunscreen in his hand.

They made love in the early morning, the sun just beginning to brighten the sky, or late at night, the stars above them twinkling down through the mesh of the tent.

They went skinny dipping, day or night, shivering in the chilly water, laughing as they dunked under and swam around.

Simple meals had been cooked over a campfire or in the small kitchen of the boat, touching and smiling as they worked together.

Sitting on the boat at night, with her between his legs and leaning back against his chest, as her fingers ran gently up and down his thighs, they had listened to others who were camping around the river, music and laughter sounding in the still air.

Needless to say, she had the fresh air she had been seeking.

Tonight, there were people on the other side of the river having a party around a large fire, their music playing loudly. If they had not been there, Mulder was certain that he and Scully could have been the last two people on earth, and that would have been just fine with him.

"Mmm…” Scully hummed as she swayed, her eyes closed, a happy smile on her face, and he smiled as he watched her.

They were drinking tonight, not something they usually did, but when she had suggested margaritas by the fire, he’d had no argument. Margaritas had then turned into drinking tequila straight from the bottle, her cheeks becoming more flushed with every sip. But she was happy and he loved seeing her that way.

"Mulder, come dance with me," she sighed and he poked at the fire before getting up and coming to stand beside her. She smiled at him, her eyes half closed and head tilting back. He took the bottle of tequila from her and capped it, tossing it onto the sand.

Smiling at her, he reached out and grabbed handfuls of the new sun dress she had bought before they came onto the boat, and pulled her close. It was an interesting dress that simply wrapped around her and tied in specific spots. A wrap dress, she had called it.

“Or an unwrapped one,” he had said, tugging at the tie and kissing her neck, her laughter in his ear as his hand had slid into the dress. Finding her wearing nothing underneath, his kiss had become a nip as he growled and she shivered.

It had quickly become one of his favorite clothing items she owned.

“Hmm,” she hummed, leaning heavily against him, and he smiled.

They were not exactly dancing, but standing in the sand holding one another. She smelled of tequila, sunscreen, and sunshine; having spent the day swimming and lying lazily in the sun.

"So have you had all the fresh air you were craving?" he asked and she hummed again in response. He chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair as a yell went up across the take and he glanced in that direction.

"What do you suppose they’re doing over there? Excited for the meaty shower?"

"Do you mean meteor shower?" he asked with a soft laugh and he felt her shrug. “Are you excited, tequila drinker?"

"I've seen many me-teor showers, Mulder,” she slurred, her hands locking around his waist, her thumbs stroking his back. "But, I know you like them, so..."

"Yes, how odd of me to enjoy something as romantic as gazing up at the stars,” he said dryly as he rolled his eyes and she laughed. Tipping her head back, she looked at him through heavy lidded eyes.

"I like that you're a romantic person," she said softly. "Have I ever told you that before, Mulder?" He smiled, stroking her cheek, and brushing her hair back.

"I don't know if you've ever said as such, but l know you do."

"Good, because I really do. I always have you know." Her eyes closed and he smiled, stroking her cheek again.

"What was it that you liked most about my romantic side, Miss Scully?" he asked teasingly, but knowing her answer would be more forthcoming, the alcohol in her bloodstream loosening her tongue.

"Most? Hmm...” She licked her lips and ran her teeth slowly across the bottom one. He swallowed as he watched her, wanting to taste her lips. She smiled and opened her eyes, the moonlight shining in them. "You’re a quiet romantic, Mulder. I think that's what I’ve always liked most. It's not something… overstated or really known unless someone was paying attention."

"And you were of course.”

"Damn straight I was," she replied, her nails pressing into his back. “I always pay attention.” She stumbled slightly and he chuckled as he held her tighter.

“Mmhmm,” he murmured and she stared at him, her eyes having a hard time focusing.

“Do you… doubt me?” she slurred again and he shook his head.

“I would never,” he whispered with a shake of his head, a smile on his lips.

Strumming my pain with his fingers

“Oh… Mulder…” she said, her eyes widening as she pulled away from him unsteadily, before she closed them and began to sway and hum, the people across the way cheering and singing along loudly to the song now playing.

Singing my life with his words Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

“I really like this song. Hmm…” She raised her arms over her head as she danced, and he grinned as he watched her, the people still cheering and chanting hey, hey, hey as the song began past the chorus, Scully humming and singing along.

I heard he sang a good song I heard he had a style And so I came to see him and listen for a while And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes

Loud singing continued, Scully joining in a quieter tone, and he shook his head, closing his eyes as he smiled, listening and swaying slightly.

Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time) Singing my life with his words (two times, two times) Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

Her hands on his chest caused his eyes to fly open. Staring down into her eyes, she sang quietly, the words slightly slurred, her body pressed close to his own, his hands falling to her hips.

I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd I felt he'd found my letters and read each one out loud I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on

Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time) Singing my life with his words (two times, two times) Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

From across the river, the singing grew louder, men and women joining in and Scully stepped away from him, her eyes closed and arms over her head again, singing along loudly in their direction.

Woah Woah-oah-ah-ah-ah uh, uh La-la-la, la, la, la Woah, la Woah, la La-ah-ah-ah-ah

It seemed everyone was now singing and he smiled as he nodded along, not knowing all the words, but enjoying the beat, and the sway of Scully’s hips.

Strumming my pain with his fingers (yes, he was singing my life) Singing my life with his words Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

She hummed as the words died down and the people laughed and the occasional chorus continued to ring out before the next song began to play.

“Strumming my pain with his fingers,” she sang softly as she turned around and stepped over to him. He pulled her close as she stumbled slightly, her feet touching his in the sand and her arms wrapping loosely around him. “Killing me softly with his song… hmm.”

He smiled as they stood, only slightly moving, the warm air blowing. Moving his head down, he kissed just below her ear as he breathed in deeply. Better than any alcohol he would ever drink, her scent intoxicated him, leaving him with a hangover from which he never wanted to recover.  

“I think I should sit down,” she whispered and he laughed, kissing her neck again as she leaned further into him.

Walking to the large quilt spread out before the fire, he helped her down and then sat beside her as she laid on her back.

“The earth is spinning,” she mumbled.

“Every second of every day,” he retorted as he looked at her, a slight smile on her lips as she closed her eyes.

“Even more so right now, for me anyway. I don’t know if I’ll make it for the meteor shower.”

“That’s okay.”

“Is it?” she asked, reaching for his hand, her eyes opening with only a slight struggle. Appearing sober for a moment, he saw sadness within them and he wanted her to remain happy, the thoughts that haunted her lingering and causing pain.

“Of course I’m sure,” he said with a smile, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. “There are many meteor showers every year. You can catch the next one.”

He laid down beside her and she turned onto her side, releasing his hand and snuggling into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, looking up at the night sky, the stars shining brightly.

“Your understanding. Your touch. Your eyes on me. The way you lean in and it becomes only the two of us, even if there are hundreds of others around. How you care for others, for children especially. It’s quiet, soft…” She fell silent and he was sure she had fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even. He smiled, kissing the top of her head as his fingers massaged it softly, and he looked back at the sky.

“It’s quiet and soft,” she repeated in a whisper, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a good looking man, anyone can see that, but that’s not what attracts them to you.”

“No? You don’t find me attractive?” he teased and she breathed out a laugh.

“Fuck yes I do.” He laughed and she shifted, finding a more comfortable position. “But it’s not the physical, not completely. It’s you, your intensity and caring. It’s so damn attractive and sexy.” He laughed again as she ran her hand slowly up and down his chest with a low hum.

A flash flew across the sky and he tapped her head, tugging her hair a little to raise her head back and look up.

“It’s starting, Scully. Look.”

She shifted again and they watched the sky flashing with meteors passing quickly, some brighter and longer than others. Once again he stroked her hair, her breathing deep, her fingers nearly still.

“Strumming my pain with his fingers,” she sang in a whisper and he smiled.

“One time, one time,” he sang back, and she exhaled a chuckle.

“Killing me softly with his song…” she whispered, shifting again and kissing his neck, breathing out her love for him before she fell asleep, her fingers gripping his shirt.

The party across the way continued, seemingly unaware of the wonder of nature happening above them.

He stayed awake as long as he could, but the warmth of the fire, the woman beside him, and the summer evening, soon pulled him to sleep.

He dreamed of her. She was dancing in the sand, her hands beckoning to him, a beautiful smile on her face as music echoed all around them.

Strumming my pain with his fingers…

[eideticmemory]

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS... | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: Impromptu trip to Vegas with your very gorgeous boyfriend!

Word Count: 2,948.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Oral sex, 19 year age gap between adults.

“[y/n]? [y/n]? C’mon, Jellybean, wake up,” Matthew whispered, gently nudging your sleeping frame. He knelt beside the bed, pushed your hair from your face, kissed your nose. The soft touches alerted you to his presence, and your eyes fluttered open. “There she is,” he smiled. “Good morning.”

“Matthew, what are you doing, baby?” You mumbled, your voice raspy and small.

“Need you to get up, we gotta go.”

“Go? Go where?” 

“Do you trust me?”

“Right now?”

“[y/n],” he giggled.

You sighed, “I trust you.”

When you crawled out of bed, looking like a corpse, Matthew already had a couple of bags packed. His car keys sat on the nightstand, ready to go and be gone. Matthew was dressed in a set of matching pajamas, covered in a pattern of stripes. He held your hand, guiding you down the stairs of his house and out the door. 

“Oh, God, don’t tell me the old man’s lost his mind already!” You joked, rolling your eyes at him as you stepped in his car. “Where are we going, babe?” 

Matthew sighed, anxiously pawing at the steering wheel. You pushed his hair out of his face, gently grazing your fingers against his cheek, “Talk to me.” You whispered. 

“I—“ he stuttered. “I saw what people have been saying about you online. About us.”

Matthew made the very hesitant decision to bring you to the Horse Girl premiere. Nervous as you both were to go public, you distracted your love by making jokes the whole time, holding him close, whispering in his ear. Plenty of photographers captured candid photos of the two of you on the red carpet, smiling at each other, Matthew kissing your cheek. It was a wonderful night, filled with wonderful people, celebrating a wonderful movie starring the most wonderful actor. 

It was so successful, in fact, that you two felt comfortable enough to go out on a very impromptu, very public beach date. Matthew knew he’d be an idiot to say no — being that you agreed to wear an itty bitty bikini. And you wanted nothing more than a stroll down the shore with your man. Fingers interlocked, a smile on both yours face, you took small steps in the sand, the water wetting your feet with each wave. Matthew had never felt so safe, so secure, in front of so many people. He twirled you around and had you laughing so hard, you snorted. You gave each other quick and messy kisses, held each other. And it was all caught on camera, in photos taken by strangers, meant for social media. 

When those pictures got out, all hell broke loose. 

For you, specifically. Fans found your instagram, and very rapidly began to follow you. Found out anything and everything they could. When they saw a recent birthday post confirming your young age, the comments weren’t so nice. In your eyes you were Matthew’s girlfriend. So, to see comments strictly referring to you as a gold digger, sugar baby, and Matthew as a predator, it broke your heart. 

You thought you’d kept it hidden, kept Matthew guarded from it. But not well enough, apparently.

You let out a heavy breath, your eyes falling closed in sadness, heartbreak at Matthew’s confession. “Oh, Matthew...”

“And you’ve been so down lately, and it hurts me. It physically hurts me, I just—like to see you happy. I thought a trip might cheer you up.”

You gave him a small smile, “Drive.” 

His eyes flickers up to you, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Yeah.” 

Matthew let you blast your favorite music for three hours straight. He liked to see you smile, dancing and sing along. He nearly crashed several times because he was so focused on you. 

You stopped to get food, and you had to feed him to allow him to drive properly. He would make happy noises everytime you lifted your hand to his mouth, and he would kiss your knuckles before taking a bite of food. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” you cooed, tapping his nose lovingly with your finger. Your hand found it’s way to his hair, and you played with it as you started to kiss his neck. 

“Fuck, you really want me to crash this car, huh?” He giggled. 

You undid your seatbelt, and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “You have no idea.” You fixed your posture, kneeling in your seat so you could hover your face over his lap. You slyly began to undo his pants.

“Holy shit, [y/n],” he gasped. 

You bit down on your lip, freeing his cock from his boxers. You kissed the tip of it, before allowing his length to glide down your throat. He sucked in a sharp breath, “Oh, fuck.” He gripped onto the steering wheel, his teeth grinding together. He used all his strength to focus on the road, keep control of the car. 

You bobbed your head up and down, breath coming in through your nose, Matthew hitting the back of your throat with each movement. It took every ounce of him to not buck his hips up, push your head down. When you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick and jerked him at the same time, he couldn’t contain his moans and his body started to tremble. 

“Oh, fuck, babygirl,” he groaned. “Keep going.”

You happily complied, speeding up your movement until he was whimpering into his mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, and allowed yourself to gag on him, saliva dripping onto his skin. 

“Hm, you gonna let me come down your throat?” He whispered, one of his hands moving down to grip onto your hair. 

“M-mhm,” you replied. 

His moans increased in volume and frequency, until he was letting out loud and guttural swear words, and releasing himself into your mouth. “Fuck,” he muttered, glancing down at you. You slid him out of your mouth, puckering your lips as you swallowed everything. You looked up at him and fluttered your eyelashes innocently. 

He chuckled, “That was wonderful, thank you.”

You sat back in your seat, giggling, “You’re welcome.” 

“Now, will you please put your seatbelt back on? You’re making me nervous, babe.” 

“Oh,” you pretended to pout, fixing your seatbelt. “You’re no fun.” 

The two of you pulled into Vegas twenty minutes later. Matthew parked his car in his mother’s driveway. When she stepped out of her house, she instantly recognized the car and began to jump up and down in excitement. “Matthew!” She exclaimed.

But when you stepped out of the car, her attention very rapidly shifted gears. “[y/n]!” She screamed. She ran up to you and embraced you in a tight hug. “Oh, my goodness, what a surprise!” 

Matthew followed you two into the house, carrying your bags at his side. Apparently he was the only one who knew about this little visit. However, you were very happy to be there and his mom was happy to have you. She helped you two get settled in Matthew’s old bedroom. 

“Vegas, huh?” You said to Matthew after she left the room. “Are we here to gamble?”

“Gamble, drink, whatever you want, beautiful,” he smiled. 

“Okay,” you giggled. “Let me take a quick shower and change. Ooh, I should brush my teeth, too. Get the taste of dick out of my mouth.” 

Matthew and you got impeccably dressed just to spend most of the day in the house. You helped his mother cook lunch, and she filled you in on everything she’d been up to since seeing you last. The three of you played board games, ate, had some wine, and carried a conversation for a long time. When you and Matthew would sit with one another, she’d consistently point out how perfect you two looked together. It made your heart swell. 

Later in the afternoon, Matthew and you went out to a bar. You sat on adjacent stools and ordered margaritas. 

“Can I see some ID?” The bartender asked you.

Matthew stifled his laughter, and you cut your eyes at him. “Oh, shut up,” you whispered to him, pulling your license out of your pocket. The bartender verified your age, seeing that you were newly 21, and went on his way. 

Within an hour or so, you two had consumed nearly 6 drinks each, and it was painfully clear. You laughed, often and loudly at every joke the other made. Matthew fell off his stool. Twice. You were eating peanuts hand over fist. You two were a mess. 

Matthew left for three seconds to use the bathroom, and some asshole felt it appropriate to approach you. He was slightly more sober, and thought you were there alone. He struck up a painful conversation, being sure to comment on how beautiful you were every two seconds. You rolled your eyes when he wasn’t looking. He got closer to you, thinking you wouldn’t notice. But you did. So did Matthew. 

“Hey, baby,” Matthew announced his presence, putting his hand on your back. “Ready to go?” 

You nodded, and gave the flirt a kind smile. “Nice meeting you,” you lied. 

As you exited the bar together, Matthew was quiet, and from his stern face, you could tell he was sobering up. Something was weighing on his mind. “Babe?” You called. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He attempted to keep walking down the strip, but you stopped him with your body. “Hey! Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He let out a long sigh, “I’m...I’m never gonna be okay with that.”

“What? Guys flirting with me?”

“Young...guys flirting with you,” he couldn’t hold eye contact with you out of embarrassment.

“Oh, Matthew,” you frowned. “We’ve talked about this, baby. What do I always tell you? Hm?”

He licked his lips, “That...that I’m your old man, and you only want me.”

“That’s right, grandpa,” you smiled, pulling his body into yours. “You are my greatest love, and I’m lucky to have you, and if you think some young guy could ever steal me away, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

He sighed, “Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s get back home.” 

“Wait, wait, Matthew,” you pleaded, stopping him once again. You sighed, “How can I convince you? What do you need?” 

“Nothing,” he said sadly. “I’m fine, babe.”

He was a big, fat liar. And you may have been a little drunk - or, a lot drunk - but it still hurt to see him upset. You suddenly got a bright idea, and in the middle of a dimly lit, sketchy, Las Vegas strip, you got down on one knee. 

“[y/n], what are you doing?”

“Matthew Gray Gubler,” you gulped. “Will you marry me?” 

He scoffed, “Okay, time to get you to bed.”

“I’m serious!” You squeaked. “I want to marry you! Right now!”

“[y/n]...”

You rose to your feet, “No. Listen to me. I love you. I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the history of the planet. And I want to marry you. I want to go to that court house right now, get a marriage license, and marry you!”

His jaw was dropped in shock, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a slight smile. “You’re insane.”

You stepped over to him, wrapped your arms around his waist, “So, are you saying yes?”

He slowly cupped your face in his hands, every inch of his body filling with pure love. “It’s not a yes, babygirl. It’s a hell yes.” 

You two were so excited that you drunkenly ran to the courthouse. You got there just before they closed, and the lady at the desk reluctantly allowed you two to obtain a marriage license. She could smell the booze on your breath, but also see the love in your eyes. She watched the two of you rush out of the building, hand in hand. 

“A ring!” Matthew exclaimed, screeching to a halt. 

“Huh?”

“I didn’t get you a ring! Fuck!”

You rubbed his shoulders to soothe him, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a store, the sign above it lit up and colorful. You gasped, “Matthew!” You exclaimed. “A pawn shop!”

“A what?”

“A pawn shop!” You repeated.

“I am not getting you a ring from a pawn shop!” He insisted, but you were already running towards the shop, happy and giddy.

“Come on!” You shouted. “Come on!”

You burst into the store and began to cruise the jewelry. The door jingled, indicating Matthew’s arrival. “Gosh, you run fast,” he huffed. 

“Nah, you’re just old,” you told him. “Excuse me, sir?” You called out to the shop owner. “Do you have any wedding rings?” 

“Yeah, over here,” the man replied, motioning for the two of you to join him. 

“[y/n], I don’t know if we’ll find what we’re looking for here,” Matthew whispered to you. 

But you drowned him out, approaching the salesman and eyeing the jewelry in front of you. “What are you looking for?” The man asked. “A matching set?”

“No—“

“Yes,” you interrupted Matthew. “One for me, another for my man here.” 

“Well, these is our selection,” he motioned to the case below you. “We have white gold, traditional gold...”

“Wait,” Matthew interjected. He stepped up to the case of jewelry and kneeled down in front of it, his eyes squinted. “These ones, right here,” he pointed. “Can we see those?” 

You stared at Matthew, confused as to why he so adamantly wanted to see these rings. The jeweler pulled them out of the case, carefully setting them down in front of you.

You gasped at first sight. He presented the two of you with two bands — one of which was white gold, covered in small diamonds and a large blue sapphire, and the second of which was a plain silver band. Matthew stood beside you, reading the expression on your face. 

“This one screams [y/n], don’t you think?” Matthew whispered to you. “Can she try it on?” He directed at the salesman.

“Of course,” he nodded.

Matthew picked up the ring carefully, and held his palm out for your hand. You shakily placed your hand in his gentle grasp and watched in bliss as he slid the ring onto your finger. Tears clouded your vision as you stared at the ring, feeling the way it fit your hand like a glove. Your eyes switched from the ring to Matthew’s face — his eyes, his soft smile. 

“Does it fit?” Matthew asked you.

You gulped, “Yes,” your voice broke. “Yes, it fits.” 

Before you left, Matthew insisted that you take the ring off for the ceremony and you told him that would happen over your dead body. You were attached to this ring and it was attached to you. There was no separating you two now. 

You walked into the first Vegas chapel you found. It was within walking distance, and was painted pink on the inside and outside. It was decorated with hearts and clouds and little cupids. It was awful.

So it was perfect. 

You presented the staff with your marriage license, and they ordered you two to wait patiently until the last couple was done. It was only for a few minutes, but boy, did you both have a lot of thoughts in such a short time. You thought about regrets, and sadness, and impulsivity. Then you looked at each other. And every thought faded away. 

You two stood in front of an ordained minister dressed as Madonna, hand in hand, facing each other. She read her words out loud to you both, and the two of you could barely contain your laughter. 

“This is crazy,” you whispered to Matthew, sliding the band onto his ring finger.

“Insane,” he said back. But looking at the ring, and looking at you, he knew. He knew nothing in his life had made this much sense. Had made him this happy. This safe, this fulfilled.

“Do you, Matthew Gubler,” the minister said. “Take [y/n] [y/l/n] to—“

“I do,” Matthew answered abruptly.

The minister and you both laughed. “And do you, [y/n]—“

“Yes, hell yes!” You exclaimed. 

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” she announced. “You may kiss—“

Matthew pulled you in by your waist and kissed you passionately, before the minister could finish her speech. You kissed him back, your legs kicking up behind you, just like in the movies. You held him by his shoulders, both of your eyes squeezed shut as you had your first kiss as a married couple. When you pulled away, you stared into each other’s eyes. Both of you were on the brink of tears, and a single drop ran down Matthew’s cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb, and kissed his nose. 

“Well,” you said. “I think this is the best drunk idea I’ve ever had.” 

You got back to his mother’s house at one in the morning. You had gentle, passionate sex in his bed and cuddled until the sun came up. He spooned you, watching you over your shoulder. You were in a daze, fucked out, staring at your hand — your ring. You twirled it around your finger, sighing happily. 

Matthew kissed your shoulder and tucked his chin into the crook of your neck. His arms were wrapped around your waist. “Any regrets?” He whispered.

You grinned to yourself and slowly turned to face him. You placed your hand against his cheek and leaned in, kissing him softly. You put your forehead against his, “No regrets,” you shook your head. “From now until death do us part.”

[cafffine]

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Chewbacca & Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker Summary: Taking care of three humans is stressful enough, but keeping them entertained? That requires an expert, and a very forgiving sense of humor. - Falcon ride to the beach from Chewbacca's pov 

“Chewie,” Luke wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Please, please, one more time.”

“Alright, okay, leave him alone,” Han grumbled. “I think we’ve heard enough.”

“No, no, one more!”

Chewbacca reached over and pat Han’s shoulder. “I don’t mind, but you are kind to look out for me.”

Han rolled his eyes and tapped away at the navi-computer. “Whatever, we’re gonna be there soon anyway.”

Leia gasped for breath and pushed herself back into the seat she’d slid out of. “Hold on, hold on I wasn’t ready, oh stars.”

Chewbacca smiled and busied himself with landing preparations while the twin’s laughter died down. He knew it made Han nervous sometimes, but he liked when everyone rode in the cockpit, traveling was better as a communal effort.

Luke leaned forward and popped his head between the pilot seats. “Okay, we’re good, please, just give it your best shot.”

“I’ll try,” Chewbacca hummed. “But it’s not going to come out right.”

Han reached up and got the stabilizers warming. “That’s the point, they’re making fun of you.”

“Han, Han,” Chewbacca soothed. “You’re too tense, I think you should take a nap once we arrive.”

“Oh, sure, and karking burn to death?”

“I brought an umbrella.” Chewbacca gestured to the back. “You will be safe.”

“Chewie, please,” Luke whined.

“Okay.” Chewbacca nodded. “Give me a moment.” The chances of success were in the negatives, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give it his best.

He hummed a few times to ready his vocal cords and clear his throat, this alone was enough to send Leia into a fit once more.

“You can do it.” Luke kicked his sister. “I believe in you.”

Chewbacca gave Luke’s little blond head an appreciative scratch, maybe he could do it.

“Take it slow,” Han advised. “It’s only two syllables.”

Chewbacca took a deep breath. “H-E,” he barked out, doing his damnedest to replicate the impossible sounds of basic. “L-L-L-L-OH.”

Luke shrieked and collapsed to the floor.

“No, oh Gods.” Leia shook her head, her eyeliner was starting to run. “That is too – I can’t handle this.”

“Good try.” Han had to turn towards the radio to hide his laughter. “That was a good try, buddy.”

“I think I’m getting better.” Chewbacca flicked off the shields and began redirecting power to engines in preparation for the end of their jump. “You should have heard me fifty years ago.”

“Why wasn’t I recording?” Luke moaned. “Wedge would lose his mind if I played that for him.”

Leia fanned her face and kicked her feet up on Han’s armrest. “I’m going to be thinking about that all day, that was amazing.”

“Buckle up, both of you.” Han tapped Leia’s foot. “And someone needs to put sunscreen on my back.”

Chewbacca raised his hand. “I’d be happy to-”

“No.” Han grimaced. “Anyone but you. Your fur always gets in it and – augh – no.”

“Sunscreen?” Luke flopped back into his seat. “There’s only gonna be one sun, how bad could it be?”

Leia tossed a bottle into his lap. “Bad. And if you don’t put it on, I’ll tell Threepio.”

“Rude.” Luke threw the bottle back at her. “I’ll do it when we get there.”

“We are here.” Han leaned back and braced himself as the Falcon snapped out of hyperspace and began gliding towards the bright turquoise of southern Glee Anselm. “Now put the damn sunscreen on, kid. You’re paler than me.”

“And don’t forget the tips of your ears,” Chewbacca added. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying it was for humans and their baldness. He’d left Han out in the sun for too long once and his shoulders started to peel the next day, it was a trauma he was still recovering from.

“Chewie, can you pull the map up? I haven’t been here in ages.” Han squinted down at the distant strips of sand and kicked the engine down to just above the speed limit. “Man, I hope we can find parking.”

Leia frowned. “If we had borrowed the Phantom from Hera like I suggested that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Sweetheart,” Han bit. “If we’d come in the Phantom, there’d be no one to stop Lando from taking my ship-”

“Who cares?” Leia tossed her hands up. “Let him have it! Who takes a freighter this big to the beach anyway?”

Han whipped around; finger raised. “Look, if you two want to fly yourselves two kriffing systems over-”

“Oh, come on,” Luke groaned “What did I do?”

“-then you are welcome to use that pathetic little shuttle. But if you want me to get you there? We’re taking the Falcon.”

“Don’t argue, please, don’t argue.” Chewbacca reached over and gently guided Han’s attention back towards the window. “I’ll drop you all off at the entrance and park the ship myself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Han muttered. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Them?” Luke squawked. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Shut up.” Leia threw the bottle of sunscreen back at his head. “It’s because he knows you’re on my side.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“It’ll be fine,” Chewbacca assured. “Just message me where you pitch the umbrella and I’ll be there when I can.”

Han shook his head, still bitter about Leia’s betrayal. “I just don’t think we should split up. It’s winter on six of the planets in this system, the place is gonna be packed.”

“I’m very tall.” Chewbacca sat up straighter to demonstrate. “I’ll find you.”

“Hey, are we drinking?” Luke leaned forward again, ignoring Han’s annoyed glance. “I heard there’s a place near the lifeguard tent that serves Margaritas Shili style.”

“Like you could handle that,” Leia scoffed.

“Not me.” Chewbacca hit the switch for the landing gear. “I need to have a clear mind when I fly you all home, but you can enjoy yourselves.”

“What’d he say?” Luke asked.

Han chuckled. “He said go crazy.”

Luke thumped Chewbacca’s arm. “That’s why he’s my favorite.”

Chewbacca waited until the ship was stable, then took Han’s seat as the group began to gather their towels and tote bags. The sky outside was clear blue and the sand pure white, Chewbacca did not look forward to washing it out of his fur.

He couldn’t complain, though. They’d chosen a good day, the crowds were worth it. The sun was just direct enough to keep the water warm without making the sand too hot for sensitive human feet to walk on.

“I don’t care how good it is, do not pay more than twenty credits for parking,” Han instructed. “We are not a bunch of clueless tourists.”

“I know, I know.” Chewbacca waved him off. “I’ll find a good spot.”

“Thanks, Chewie!” Luke waved before skipping out into the sun, followed by his sister and a yawning Han.

“Don’t forget the umbrella!” Chewbacca called after them. “Han! The umbrella!”

“Yep, yeah, got it.” Han came dashing back up the gangway and snatched the folded umbrella off the table. “Thanks, pal.”

“You are welcome.”

Chewbacca waited to start the engine until he could see the three of them trudging through the sand and towards the water. Han was speaking angrily with his hands and Leia reached around him to bat Luke in the head with her inflatable doughnut.

Chewbacca was happy for them. “H-E,” he began, then shook his head, one battle at a time.

[therollingstonys]

Ocean Blue

Tony twists his lips, unable to help his grimace as the bitter liquid slides down his throat. He looks around, trying to come to terms with the fact that his group of friends are the only people doing shots at 7:30 in the evening at the hotel bar. It’s not the worst thing they could be doing, in South Beach, Miami on a Saturday night, except they’re forty-five, not twenty-five, here for Bucky’s fourth bachelor party, not first. His best friend goes through wives quicker than any professor he’s ever seen, which is why he’d almost refused to come, not wanting to subject himself to the terror that was the south of Florida at the beginning of the summer.

But as best man and supposed best friend, it was his solemn duty to both plan and attend said best friend’s bachelor party. He supposes, with Bucky’s track record in wives, that it’s a good thing he’s found himself a husband this time - maybe this one will stick.

A group of barely dressed, mostly naked girls walks past the seating area, and his oppressively embarrassing group of friends decides on hooting and hollering to be the most appropriate reaction, Bucky’s voice chief among them, loudest of them all. Tony shakes his head, sighing. Then again, maybe not.

They order another round, and Tony’s lost count of what number they’re at. He refuses to take a shot, because even though enough experience has taught him you can’t get through one of these things sober, he still has to make sure everyone makes it back to their rooms in one piece, and at the rate things are going, his task isn’t shaping up to be an easy one.

He’s in the middle of trying to convince Bucky to put down his fourth margarita for the sake of everyone involved when there’s a shout of “Bucky!” and they both pause their tug of war over the glass to look up and see Bucky’s barely legal fiancé come sprinting around the pool.

“Sam!” Bucky’s answering shout is warm and overjoyed, and he opens his arms, catching Sam and spinning the two around when the younger man makes a running a jump. “Baby, what’re you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, I guess,” Sam responds, laughter bubbling up in his words as Bucky peppers kisses all over his face. “Getting wasted for my bachelor party.”

“What’re the chances,” Tony pipes in dryly, “that you’d end up in the same exact city, at the same exact hotel we would?”

“What a coincidence, Dr. Stark,” and Tony’s tearing his eyes away from the overly affectionate, grossly happy couple to catch Sam’s equally barely legal best friend stroll up behind him. Blonde hair glints golden in the sun, blue eyes the colour of the sea that’s just feet behind them- all around pretty boy and verifiable pain in Tony’s ass since the first day he’d been in Tony’s class. Brushing up against Tony at every available opportunity, practically fellating the pen stuck between his plush pink lips in the middle of class, voice breathy and audibly aroused whenever he’d answered a question, and it had taken every ounce of self-control Tony possessed not to fuck the kid up against the whiteboard.

He’d been counting down the days until the last day of class, itching to get his hands on Steve, because it wasn’t just that he wanted to fuck the kid. The boy was smart, always ready to debate Tony on any of his more controversial claims, never anything less than a 98% on the work he’d turned in. But more than intelligent, he was unfailingly kind, more than willing to take notes for any students that missed class, always ready to tutor and offer extra help if it was needed, setting up study groups for the major exams. Steve was good, in every sense of the word, and Tony had wanted to wine and dine the kid before fucking him six ways to Sunday.

But then Bucky had gotten engaged to Sam, and Tony didn’t want to jeopardize the couple’s happiness or sour things between him and Sam if Sam’s best friend took offense at Tony’s ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ tendencies when all his relationships inevitably crashed and burned. So he’d backed off, taking great pains to avoid Steve as soon as the semester had ended, well aware that if he ever ended up back in the boy’s sights, his willpower would crumble away at the slightest touch.

Now he’s here, less than ten feet away, stem of a pink umbrella from his fruity cocktail tucked between his lips, molten heat in his gaze enough to burn Tony alive. And Tony’s no idiot; Bucky’s big mouth no doubt tripped over itself offering Sam a detailed itinerary for the weekend, and Steve was a crafty little shit who’d probably wheedled the information out of his best friend without him even noticing and now they’re here, Steve’s slim thighs encased in sinfully short shorts, tanned chest oiled with sunscreen and a sheen of sweat that Tony wants to lick off and yeah, he’s royally fucked.

Tony tears his gaze away from the bright blues, making the most of Bucky’s occupation with the giggling fiancé in his lap to finish prying the margarita out of his hands, sliding it down to Clint when the man beckons for it- at least he can hold his liquor. The momentary distraction is all Steve needs to close the distance between the two, sidling up to Tony’s left when the man turns around. Tony swallows harshly, watching Steve’s finger trace up his arm from his wrist to his shoulder, across his neck before making its way down his chest to his navel before pulling away. “Aren’t you hot, Mr. Stark?

“N-no-” Tony gulps, throat suddenly, inexplicably parched. “No, this shirt’s pretty thin.”

“Mm, it was more an observation than a question, but I appreciate the information, Mr. Stark” Steve says, flirty and smug, and Tony can only offer a soft oh in response, fighting hard to prevent the blush from creeping over his face, reaching blindly for his drink. He grabs it when he feels the cold glass, sucking down a sip of the fruity concoction, relishing the slide of the cool liquid down his throat.

“Oooh,” Steve coos, brightening at the sight of Tony’s drink, “what is that?”

“Something you’re not old enough to be drinking,” Tony remarks dryly, smirking when Steve’s expression darkens.

“I seem to remember announcing my twenty-first birthday in your class, or did you forget that, professor?” and fuck, this kid really doesn’t play fair. Tony shifts on the bar stool, attempting and failing to subtly adjust the erection in his pants at the word.

“Sounds vaguely familiar, now that you mention it,” and Steve nods, smug and satisfied.

“So, whatcha drinkin’?”

“No idea, to be honest,” Tony confesses. “Some shit Clint ordered me.”

“Sex on the Beach,” Clint supplies helpfully, and Tony nearly spits out his drink when Steve licks his lips, purring a soft yummmm.

“Mind if I have a taste, sir?” Tony’s still blinking, non-responsive and stunned stupid at the soft sir at the end of the question when Steve leans in front of him, soft blonde strands tickling Tony’s nose and then those lips are wrapping around his straw and fuckin’ Christ, nothing’s ever made a prettier picture than this right here, Steve’s lips are plump and pink and absolutely gorgeous, and Tony’s at serious risk of entering cardiac arrest if the kid doesn’t stop fellating his straw sometime soon, eyes steadfastly averted from the swallowing motion of Steve’s throat because he’s absolutely not picturing what it would look like swallowing around his cock.

He pulls away after a few seconds, and Tony mentally recites a small prayer of thanks, subtly adjusting himself in his shorts. But then he looks up and Steve’s biting that goddamn lip and his eyes are twinkling in a way that spells trouble and Tony kinda wishes he would go back to sipping on the drink.

“Wanna join me for a swim on the beach, professor?” Steve purrs, all coy looks and fluttering lashes and Tony’s mouth is suddenly parched, tongue thick and heavy and unable to form words, settling for a dumb nod when every single one of his alarm bells is going off, neon signs flashing, warning him not to go along.

He goes anyway.

The grip around his wrist is tenuous at best, and that makes it worse, somehow – the kid’s not leading him anywhere, he’s allowing himself to be led, padding along like a thirsty puppy, and he should be embarrassed, but he’s not. The swell of Steve’s ass swaying under those shorts doesn’t allow for much higher function at all, let alone embarrassment.

He’ll count it as a win if he manages not to trip over his own to feet and land face first in that pretty peach.

They walk for what feels like ages, Tony possessing just enough presence of mind to realize they’re leaving civilization further and further behind, the bass of the beat thumping at the hotel’s bar quieting more and more until it fades completely, the only noise the subtle din of the waves crashing against the shore. The lights of the tourist strip dimly light their way as it gets darker and darker, but Steve quests further until they’re bathed in darkness when the sun finishes setting, and he can’t make out anything except for lumps in the distance and the shape of his own two feet.

And the shape of Steve’s ass, the homing beacon that it is.

Tony clears his throat. “Where are you taking me?”

Steve shoots a coy look over his shoulder, close enough that Tony can make out the mischievous twist of his lips. “Why? Worried I’ll take advantage, Professor?”

“Counting on it, actually. Just hoping we won’t get interrupted, is all.” As they get closer, Tony realizes the lumps are actually stacked loungers, the one’s that the hotels will rent for the price of a kidney. He allows himself to be pushed onto a stack that’s only three high, landing with a soft grunt, mesmerised as Steve sinks gracefully to the space at Tony’s feet, knees denting the sand.

“Comfortable?” Tony checks in, because he’s nothing if not a considerate lay, tamping down the amusement when Steve rolls his eyes.

“On my knees is my most comfortable place to be, Dr. Stark. Allow me to show you my talents don’t begin and end with chemical engineering,” Steve croons, leaning in, nosing lightly at Tony’s crotch before parting that sinfully pretty mouth, tongue darting out pink and wet to lick at Tony’s bulge over the fabric. Tony bites down on his lower lip, holding back a whimper because he’s supposed to be the experienced one, not the barely legal ready to shoot off in his underwear at the slightest suggestion of friction.

Steve takes his time, teasing through the denim until Tony’s gritting his teeth, holding his orgasm back by the tiniest forces of will when Steve’s lips stretch back, head leaning further forward until he catches the zipper between his teeth, dragging it down painstakingly slow.

His breath hitches, shivering under the weight of anticipation when Steve’s mouth pursues around the head of Tony’s cock through the fabric of his underwear, material quickly soaking through with Steve’s kitten licks and Tony’s own arousal, and then-

Steve’s lips tighten like he knows, knows how embarrassingly on edge Tony is at the tiniest attentions from a pretty young thing, sucking and stimulating Tony’s sensitive cockhead until the vestiges of Tony’s control fall away, the tenuous grasp on willpower lost as he loses it in his underwear, garbled moans and grunts of oh fuck Steve falling from his lips like a prayer, warmth coating the head of his cock as his hips jerk up, chasing the warmth of Steve’s mouth.

He nearly collapses in the chaise as the last of his orgasm fades away, catching himself on his elbows as he looks down at Steve, panting to catch his breath as he takes in the boy’s expression, entirely too smug and self-satisfied for his liking. He slips off the lounge, planting a hand on Steve’s chest as he moves, pushing the boy into the sand, looming above him. “Pleased with ourselves, are we?” Tony asks, amused, affection flooding him at Steve’s eager nod, mouth twisting into the first real smile he’s gotten.

“Immensely.”

Tony grins. “Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts – let me show you how good I am on my knees.”

**

The next morning, Tony walks through the sand, grains and pebbles shifting under his feet, shoes swinging lightly from the tips of his fingers. He looks out towards the water, wind moving through his hair as he watches the sun rise, waves crashing against the shore, sun bathing the sky in soft pinks and bright oranges. He breathes in the sea salty air, and the pounding in his head lessens just a little.

“Tony! Tony!”

Tony looks up, away from the water and towards the stretch of sand ahead of him at the shout, watching the figure in the distance getting closer. He catches the blond hair first, then the scratch marks on his shoulders and the hickeys on his neck and the bruises up and down the boy’s chest and shakes his head in half-embarrassment because this is the first time he’s seen the marks since last night and what the fuck did he do to the kid last night.

“Morning, Dr. Stark.” It’s a soft, breathy greeting, accompanied by Steve’s signature crooked grin, and Tony can’t help but wrap his arm around the boy’s waist, hauling him closer for a kiss as the greeting reminds him exactly what he’d done to the kid, and why.

They’re both panting heavily when they pull away, and Tony breathes out a soft “hi, baby,” against the boy’s lips. “You were gone when I woke up this morning.”

“I went for a run. Figured might as well, since we were on the beach already.”

Tony shakes his head. “Of course you went for a run at six in the morning after we stayed up until three for some of the best sex I’ve ever had.” He bypasses the blush that dusts Steve’s cheeks at his words, granting the kid some mercy. “You hungover?”

“Nope, not really.”

“Of course you’re not,” Tony grumbles, and Steve shifts, tightening his arms around Tony’s neck leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his eye.

“Don’t be mad, old man. I think it’s sexy that you’re hungover after three shots,” Steve says sweetly, grinning cheekily, twisting away when Tony tries to swat his ass. “You’re gonna have to catch me if you want any more of that, Dr. Stark. Gotta admit, my ass is a little sore.” With a wink, Steve turns around, taking off down the beach, and Tony feels the last of his headache fade away as he gives chase, sun rising steadily in the sky.

———————

HOLY COW I LOVE THIS!! Our good friend S submitted this and I’m so excited to share such awesome content with us lucky stony fans!!

💯💯💯

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 20)

Authors Note:  Hey all!  I am so freaking sorry there hasn’t been an update in a while!!  Life has been crazy and also I got a bit tripped up with this chapter.  For more beach making out inspiration check out Bon Jovi’s “Livin In Sin” video as well haha.  Thanks for sticking with me and please tell me what you think of the chapter! Word Count: 3,622 Warnings:  drugs, angst Taglist:   @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches @samanthadegaro @lauravic @oh-well1 @la-sorciere-fleur @anxious-diabetic @xdeath-soulx @fanofnightz @songbirdkisses​ If you’d like to be added please let me know!

Previous Chapter  //  Master List  //  Next Chapter

Chapter 20

Rayne had no idea what to pack, she had never been somewhere tropical before in her life but that was exactly where she was going: Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.  Tommy had surprised her with a trip to Cabo for Christmas. It wasn’t a long trip, only three days but the day after they got back Tommy would go into the studio with Motley and Rayne would start really gearing up for Stanley’s fashion show. Life was once again about to get extremely hectic so the next few days were precious.

“I literally just packed tank tops, a bathing suit and one pair of jeans.”  Tommy smiled as he zipped up his luggage.

“Of course you did.” Rayne laughed as she packed some hair products in her bag.  Quite possibly the worst thing about any type of travel when you had curly hair was packing hair product.  Traveling with no product was the equivalent of a death sentence. “I’m giving up, if it’s not in here I’ll just have to live without it for a weekend.”

“You packed a bathing suit right?”  Tommy questioned rolling onto his stomach on the bed.

“I did.”  Rayne replied.

“A bikini?” Tommy smiled wide.

“Tommy, no one wants to see this in a bikini.”

“No correction, I want to see you in a bikini.”  Tommy said with his usual blend of sexy and genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready?  We’re going to be late for our flight if we don’t get a move on.”

“I was born ready. I’m waiting on you foxy lady.” He pushed himself up and off their bed.

“Well I’ve been ready.”  Rayne said defiantly as she threw one more thing in her suitcase before finally zipping up her bag.  That was one of Tommy’s favorite quirks about Rayne, she always waited until the last second to be ready and then acted like she was the one waiting on Tommy.

Rayne and Tommy arrived at LAX, they parked their car and walked across the street to get to the ticketing desk.  It was all going wonderfully, until an older gentleman with a camera approached them and began snapping photos.  “Where are you off to Tommy?”

“What are you doing dude?”  Tommy questioned taking a few quick steps to put himself slightly in front of Rayne.

“Just my job.” The photographer kept snapping photos.  “Is this your girlfriend?”

“Dude, you can take as many pictures of me as you want but leave her out of it alright?” Tommy spoke defensively.

“But that’s what people want to know.”

“Who are these people?”

“Whatever magazine buys the photos.”  The photographer said vaguely.  The walk to the door felt like the longest walk of all time.  Rayne thought that he would stop when they entered the airport, but that was not the case.  

Rayne could feel Tommy’s agitation; she reached for his hand giving him a gentle squeeze as they approached the ticketing counter.  “It’s okay babe.  Just go with it.”

Rayne and Tommy checked into their flight and were given their boarding passes in a swift fashion. The photographer had definitely drawn the attention of others in the airport, most wondering who the hell they were and a small handful who knew exactly who Tommy was.  A small crowd had gathered around the ticketing counter making Rayne and Tommy have to slowly push their way toward the escalator up to the security checkpoint.  Tommy had never been so happy to see a bunch of officers with badges who quickly turned away the photographer and got Rayne and Tommy through security fairly quick.  When the officer looked at Tommy’s passport he nodded his head, “Alright you’re the dude from that Motley band!”

“Yeah.”  Tommy said less than enthused and walked through the metal detectors.  Once they had gotten through and into the concourse Rayne grabbed Tommy’s hand and pulled him into a secluded gate area.

“Hey, calm down.” She spoke soothingly, running her hands up and down his arms.  “I can feel how angry you are.”

“What the fuck was that?”  Tommy finally spoke after a few moments.  “A fucking photographer invading our privacy to sell the pictures to some fucking magazine?  And taking pictures of you?  Fuck that.”

“Hey, shhh.” Rayne placed a hand on his cheek. “Sadly that’s the price that comes with fame.  Is it one of the good sides?  No.  But there’s nothing we can do about it now. Maybe we need to start thinking about how to handle that situation.”

Letting out a heavy breath Tommy shook his head.  She could feel him starting to calm down.  “That’s not how I wanted this vacation to start.”

“I know baby. I’m sure that’ll be the worst thing to happen on this get away.  Okay?”  Rayne smiled. “Come on, let’s go to our gate and forget about it alright?”

Tommy nodded his head and he and Rayne walked hand in hand to their gate.

Once Rayne and Tommy walked into their suite in the resort almost everything from earlier in the day was forgotten.  Tommy dropped both of their matching bags on the floor while Rayne held two large margarita glasses in her hand.  The weather was warm and the cold drink not only tasted delicious but it felt delicious too.  Rayne handed a glass to Tommy before taking a step out onto the back deck which was open to the sand on the beach where the teal water was calling to them.  Tommy quickly changed into his black and pink spackled swim trunks, Rayne however took a few minutes to change into her bathing suit. She had packed a bikini, at Tommy’s request, it was the last thing she threw into her bag before they left. Rayne looked at herself in the mirror before taking a deep breath and letting her hair out of her pony tail.

When she walked out Tommy’s jaw went a bit slack.  Rayne was in a leopard string  bikini which hugged her curves just right despite how unsure she was. Rayne rolled her eyes, “Don’t look like that, you’ve seen me naked.”

“You look amazing, come on.”  Tommy grabbed Rayne’s hand and the two walked hand in hand towards the ocean.  The Mexican sun felt hot on their skin so when the cool water brushed their feet it was a welcome feeling.  Rayne immediately dove under the water flipping her hair out of her face as she reached the surface.  Tommy was still only up to his knees in the water.

“What?  Too cold for you California boy?”  Rayne called out to him splashing in his direction.  “Come on, I’ll warm you up.”

Tommy still remained where he was so Rayne swam back to him like a lioness stalking her prey. When she got within arms length of him she pounced on Tommy sending him to fall right into the water. Tommy gasped as he came to the surface, “Oh you are so dead.”

“Am I?”  Rayne teased playfully splashing him with water.  “You’ll have to catch me first.”

With that Rayne was swimming off into deeper water with ease while Tommy slowly chased after her. For having such long lanky limbs he certainly didn’t have speed in the water.  When Tommy finally reached Rayne she was calmly floating in the salt water.  

“Oh no you’ve caught me.”  Tommy leaned down and kissed her causing her to no longer be floating in the water but now kicking her feet to stay afloat.  She wrapped her arms around Tommy’s neck and grazed her nose with his. “I guess someone is feeling better.”

“How could I not be when we have a beautiful private beach, a romantic suite and soon enough a gorgeous sunset?”  Tommy enthusiastically replied.  

“Good.  I’m glad.”  Rayne said wrapping her legs around Tommy’s waist and kissing him softly.  “I’m gonna go grab a lounge chair and get some sun.”

“Sounds good.” Tommy replied as he began swimming back to the shore with Rayne.  As Rayne walked out of the water she quickly brushed her hair off of her face, dripping wet with salt water.  There were four empty white lounge chairs on the beach in front of their room, Rayne picked the one that her bag was closest to and laid down before reaching into her bag for a pair of sunglasses.  Soon after Tommy approached her and shook the water off him like a wet dog causing Rayne to laugh as the water splashed her.

“You’re such a dick.” Rayne laughed brushing the water droplets off her sunglasses.  Soon the warm sun evaporated any traces of ocean water on both of their skin while they silently laid down enjoying the peace and quiet.  Rayne pulled out a magazine and started flipping through the pages.  

After about thirty minutes Tommy broke the silence, “This is paradise.”  Rayne couldn’t help but smile, she was actually impressed that Tommy lasted half an hour without talking even though he was fidgeting like crazy.

“It is glorious.” Rayne nodded her head continuing to read her magazine.

“What are you reading?”

Rayne sighed and turned her Cosmo magazine to show Tommy the name of the article MEN YOU CAN LIVE WITHOUT.  “I’m reading my trash.”

“What does it say about men you can live without?”

“Well, let’s see number one, a man that disappears for extended periods of time.  Number two, a man that is constantly surrounded by other women.  Number three, a man that doesn’t know how to relax.”  Rayne laughed as she made up the third quality, all were made up but it was all in good fun.

“What?  Give me that!”  Tommy snatched the magazine from her hand and his eyes began scanning the words.  “It doesn’t say any of that.”

“You’re so gullible.” Rayne chuckled from the chair next to him.  “But seriously, do you know how to just chill out?”

“No, not really.” Tommy admitted.  “We should go out on jetski’s!”

“I’ll go out jet skiing with you if you promise that you’ll let me just sit and do nothing when we get back.”  Rayne sat up in her chair pulling her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

“Fuck yes dude! It’s a deal.”  Tommy jumped up from his chair reaching for Rayne’s hand to begin walking down the beach to the docks at the far end of the resort.

Rayne and Tommy had gotten the last two jetski’s available and quickly zoomed off in the water. Rayne had never been on one before, but quickly got the hang of it.  Tommy, of course was finding the biggest waves he could to jump over and get the most hang time in the air.  Rayne on the other hand cruised along the shore when she wasn’t doing donuts.   Tommy eventually made his way over to Rayne, “I’ll race you to the dock.”

“You’re on.” Rayne called over to him circling around in the water to be facing in the right direction.  “Ready?

Rayne reached the dock first and with a gleeful cheer she threw her fist in the air.  Quickly turning the jetski around to face Tommy with a smile on her face. "Bet you didn't think I'd beat you huh?"

"Two out of three?"  Tommy charmingly asked.

"Oh no, only losers throw that out there after they lost.  I won fair and square."  Rayne said defiantly before she did another donut around Tommy.  

"You wanna go for a real ride?"  Tommy changed the subject patting the back of his jetski.  "You've just been staying pretty close to the shoreline."

"Oh I've gone for a real ride plenty of times."  She teased him.  "But another one can't hurt. Let me bring this back to the dock."

Tommy followed Rayne as she returned the jetski to the man at the dock.  Soon after she hopped on the back of Tommy's jetski, wrapping her arms around his waist.  "I think you made this proposition just so I'd be straddling you."

"Trust me baby, if that was the case you wouldn't be straddling me there."  Tommy turned his head slightly before accelerating in the water causing Rayne to yelp and hold on tight.

She was sure Tommy was a slight adrenaline junkie, he loved things that went fast and had a hint of danger to them.  Tommy would find the best wave he could and punch the throttle to get as much air as he could off the wave. The first time they did it Rayne had to admit she was a bit afraid but she got used to the feeling the more they went along.  And she would never turn down a chance to wrap her arms around Tommy and that was a requirement for this activity.

Once the waves grew smaller and the sun began to set Tommy stopped and began to make his way back to the dock.  Giving him a light squeeze Rayne asked, "Why don't you bring your motorcycle back from your parents place? You'd be able to ride along the coast back home."

"That sounds like an excellent idea babe."  Tommy smiled docking the jetski and hopping up onto the wooden dock before reaching down to help Rayne off the jetski.  He pulled Rayne close so that their chests were flush against each other. "Have I told you how much I love you lately?"

"I'm always willing to hear it more."  Rayne winked up at her boyfriend.

"Well I love you."

"Now how about that real ride you promised me earlier?"  She teased biting her lower lip.

"Oh now you're asking for it."  Tommy deviously smiled before he made a move to wrap Rayne in an embrace but she was a step ahead and dodged his move and began running down the beach back toward their suite.

She stayed ahead for a good while but Tommy's long legs allowed him to catch up to Rayne lifting her slightly off the ground.  She looked into his eyes and instantly knew the look that shot from them. Tommy's lips lowered to Rayne's and she happily met him halfway.  Carefully the two dropped down into the sand, Rayne laid down on the sand while Tommy straddled her as the waves casually lapped at their skin.  The two continued to kiss, intertwining their fingers. Rayne wished they could live like that forever, in their own private paradise, no worries and no one else around.

Wrapping her leg over Tommy's she made a quick move to switch positions so that she was on top of Tommy straddling his waist.  Tommy buried his hand in her wet hair and pulled her down to kiss him once more. Slowly pulling away from him Rayne smiled down, brushing her hair to one side of her face.  "What do you say we skip dinner? Because right now I don't want anything but you."

"Now that sounds like a plan."  Tommy grinned rubbing his hands up and down Rayne's thighs.  As fast as she could Rayne popped up and off Tommy before running towards their suite.

Hours later Rayne laid in bed next to a sleeping Tommy.  She couldn't help smiling to herself that she had worn him out but she still wanted to get cleaned up and ready for bed.  Once the shivers stopped rushing over her body from her orgasms she pushed herself out of bed.  The sun had long set and it was dark in the room. Rayne quietly walked over to her and Tommy's bags reaching around for her skin care and birth control.  Feeling a few smooth bottles she grabbed them and walked into the bathroom closing the door before she turned the lights on. Once her eyes adjusted to the light she looked down at the bottles on the counter confused. She must've reached into Tommy's bag and not her own.

The red bottles in front of her weren't her skincare bottles at all, and they had no label.  Rayne picked one up to examine it further, she couldn't even see through it so she decided to twist the top and open it.  As soon as the lid came loose she knew what it was and when she lifted it to find a very tiny little spoon like contraption it sealed the deal.  It was a bottle filled with cocaine. She knew that Tommy had used in the past but didn't think that he used when he was at home. As soon as she thought it she realized how naive that must have sounded.  On top of that she couldn’t help but think how much trouble he would have been in if the caught him with any of this at the airport.

It didn't make sense to her why he would have to bring cocaine with him on a three day vacation.  How could he not be without it for three days? Rayne then closed the small bottle with the powder in it and looked at the other two bottles she had mistaken for her skincare products.  Again they were not labeled and when she opened them up both had little white pills in them, one bottle they were oval and the other were round. Though she had no idea what they could be as they were so general but she knew that they weren't prescribed to him.

Closing the bottles Rayne steadied herself against the bathroom cabinet taking a deep breath.  She wanted to wake him up that second and question him but she knew that wasn't the best route to take, she needed to get her emotions under control because they were all over the place.  She was angry at him, in complete shock, angry at herself for her own naivety, sad that he needed these things even when he was alone with her. Slipping out into the bedroom Rayne put the bottles back where she had found them and grabbed what she had originally intended from her own bag before slipping back into the bathroom to shower.

The next morning Tommy and Rayne sat around the table in their room clad in plush white robes and room service in front of them.  Rayne was nibbling on some fresh fruit while Tommy was eagerly scarfing down pancakes and bacon. She watched him carefully still in shock over her discovery from the night before.  If he really was hooked on coke or pills, what else could he have been hiding from her?

"So what do you want to do today baby?"  Tommy asked between bites. Rayne thought about it for a moment before she grabbed a glass filled with a delicious mimosa taking a small sip.

"Well yesterday I went jet skiing with you and then we took all our activity to the bedroom.  So today you're going to make good on your promise and just relax with me."  Rayne smiled. Suddenly Tommy's inability to sit still made sense in Rayne's head.

"Did I promise that?"  Tommy asked.

"More or less."  Rayne smiled taking another sip of her drink.  A relaxing quiet day would give Rayne time to live in her thoughts and think about exactly how to go about having quite an uncomfortable conversation with her boyfriend.  "So have you talked to Vince at all since he got out of jail?"

"No.  I don't know what I would say to him."  Tommy shrugged his shoulders.

"So the first time you're going to see him is when you get to the studio?"  Rayne asked.

"I guess.  Vince is a big boy I'm sure he's fine."  Tommy concluded causing Rayne to put her head down and sigh.  "What? You don't agree?"

"I don't know.  Maybe guys really are wired differently than women but I couldn't imagine going through what Vince must be going through alone."  Rayne reasoned.  "He just got out of jail for vehicular manslaughter, the person who died was one of his friends, and his best friend's girlfriend was in the car with him that night and I don't need to elaborate any further.  That's a heavy cross to bear alone."

"He's not alone. He has Jo."  Tommy took a bite of bacon.  Rayne only shook her head she didn't think she could win this one.  One thing she was sure about was that Vince and Jo's home was on the way to work and she would be sure to stop by when she got back to California and make sure they both knew she was there for them whatever they needed.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe that's enough for him."  Rayne shrugged her shoulders.  "You know him better than I do."

Later that day Rayne was laying out in the sun while Tommy went for a swim in the refreshing ocean water.  She watched as he splashed around, dove under waves and attempted to body board. She couldn't help but smile watching him.  Tommy always approached everything with unrelenting enthusiasm, and it was infectious. But now she couldn't help but wonder how much of that was Tommy and how much of that came from outside sources.  Ever since she had known Tommy she knew about the drugs, so she couldn't be a total hypocrite and act like her discovery came as a total shock. But that didn't make it any less shocking to have it thrust right in your face.  Because even though she had known about it she never saw him do it, and maybe that was where the problem really was. Was I enabling his habit because I didn't say anything as long as I didn't see it?  Rayne thought to herself.  

She watched as Tommy came out of the ocean pushing his hair back and off his face making his way back to her.  She knew she couldn't wait to talk to him. Grabbing a towel Tommy began to towel off, "Babe the waves are incredible today you gotta come in with me at some point."

"I will."  Rayne smiled up at him. "But first can we talk about something?"

"Yeah sure, what's up?  Is everything okay?"

"That's what I want to talk about."  Rayne took a deep breath before she spoke her next words.  "Tommy I found some stuff in your bag that I want to talk to you about…"

Take me to the next chapter......

--- Well there it is, we’ve tip toed around the drug thing a bit with Tommy but now it’s reared it’s ugly head again.  I truly hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I hope it was worth the wait and again I’m so sorry I haven’t updated in a bit!!  Please let me know what you all think I love and adore all feedback<3

[thebestintoronto]

48 hours in. . . Toronto, an insider guide to Canada's spirited first city

Canada's multicultural fusion

Canada's biggest city, the 4th biggest in North America, is regularly rated among the most effective areas to live in the world. Investing also a few days here makes it very easy to see why. Cosmopolitan and also cultured, fun as well as fun-loving, with an icing of unpredictability simply to make points fascinating, Toronto takes pride in being the dynamic, innovative and also risk-free amount of all its components.

The city's roots show in myriad ways, with greater than 200 cultures stood for on the streets. (The truth that there are 3 Chinatowns as well as 2 Little Italys speaks volumes.) This is among the reasons the cooking scene is such a big deal-- there are much more ingredients in the pantry to pull from. With four first-rate sporting activities teams, a spirited arts scene and a vibrant beachfront with its very own flight terminal, Toronto makes both a gratifying end destination and an excellent pitstop.

Warm right now ...

Doug Wallace, our citizen specialist, supplies his top tips on the best things to do and also puts to eat and drink this period.

Consume

Canada's initial Eataly (55 Bloor St. W.; 00 1 437 374 0250) has opened up in the ManuLife Centre to much excitement and also more than a couple of crowds. Spanning 50,000 square feet over 3 levels, the Italian marketplace brings the preference of Italy home to Yorkville's Mink Mile. Locate takeaway counters, dining establishments, regional as well as Italian components, food preparation courses as well as more. - The best dining establishments in Toronto

Do

Not just does Resort X Toronto (111 Princes' Blvd., 4th flooring; 00 1 647 943 9300) have a gigantic 90,000-square-foot gym with 4 interior tennis courts and also 9 squash courts, but it now likewise has Canada's first Guerlain Day spa. Get pampered via customised body therapies and facials in 10 areas, plus pre- and post-stay lounges with views of the lake. - The very best things to do in Toronto

Drink

Don't let the false front of Vatican Gift Store (1047 Gerrard St. E.; 00 1 416 462 2682) mislead you: the makeshift gift store opens speakeasy-style to expose a low-lit Gothic secluded administering European and regional brews, clever (as well as solid) mixed drinks as well as thin-crust, hand-tossed Neopolitan pizzas. Stock up on votive candles on your way out. - The most effective night life in Toronto

48 hours in ... Toronto

The first day

MORNING

Even if you're not staying at the Delta Resort Toronto, begin your day with a vibrant coffee and also a morning meal sandwich at SOCO to Go (75 Lower Simcoe St; 00 1 416 637 5465), the hotel's 24-hour grab-and-go counter and also café in the southeast corner of the structure.

Your 2nd quit of the day is nearby: Ripley's Fish tank of Canada (288 Bremner Blvd; 00 1 647 351 3474) opens at 9am, which is when the displays will be the least crowded. After having a look at the jellyfish wall surface and seeing stingrays skyrocket over your head in the undersea gallery, function your means over to the Hockey Hall of Popularity (30 Yonge St; 00 1 416 360 7765) to look into the interactive video games as well as well-known souvenirs.

MID-DAY

There's absolutely nothing even more Canadian than a peameal bacon sandwich (a kind of unsmoked back bacon). Discover one for lunch at Carousel Bakery, right near the front door in the St. Lawrence Market (93 Front St. E.; 00 1 416 392 7219). If bacon is not your thing, head to the reduced level to consider greater than a dozen hot-food stalls. The marketplace has been a culinary hub of the city given that 1803, which in Canada-years resembles 2 centuries.

After that, a 10-minute stroll south to the water's side will land your toes in the sand at the synthetic Sugar Coastline (Lower Jarvis St. and Queen's Quay E). Sit under the cotton-candy pink umbrellas and also enjoy the tankers get here in the harbour prior to continuing to the historic Distillery Area (55 Mill St.). Take a great, slow-moving poke regarding this pedestrian-only cultural territory of shops, present stores, clothes stores and also galleries. SOMA is the most effective bean-to-bar chocolatier in the area.

LATE

Pre-cocktails, take a little stroll via Yorkville Area (Cumberland Ave. at Bellair St.), in search of stars shopping or ordering cappucinos in their baseball caps and sunglasses. Duck into either The Oxley (121 Yorkville Ave.; 00 1 647 348 1300) for pints on the (much quieter) 2nd flooring or opt for martinis at d|bar in the Four Seasons (60 Yorkville Ave.; 00 1 416 964 0411).

Supper reservations tonight are at Constantine (15 Charles. St. E.; 00 1 647 475 4436), a little piece of Italian-Mediterranean paradise in the back of Anndore Home. Just move up front to the cocktail bar for a nightcap or stroll a brief block east to the Gay Town for a drag show at Woody's (467 Church St.; 00 1 416 972 0887).

- The most effective dining establishments in Toronto

Day 2

MORNING

The most effective time to get your photo taken in the "O" of the Toronto indicator at City Hall (100 Queen St. W. at Bay St.) remains in the morning prior to any individual else is around. Get a quick chai latte initially at Bannock (401 Bay St.; 00 1 416 861 6996).

Post photoshoot, it's a 15-minute walk to a healthy breakfast at Karine's (109 McCaul St.; 00 1 416 591 0863), a little food court serving morning meal staples with a side of Center Eastern, along with vegan and gluten-free, treats. Satisfied, you can then do a deep-dive right into the long-term collection (or exploring exhibits) nearby at the age-old Art Gallery of Ontario (317 Dundas St. W.; 00 1 416 979 6648).

AFTERNOON

On via Chinatown currently to the bohemian neighbourhood of Kensington Market (Kensington Ave. as well as Dundas. St. W.) to take a look at its indie society, vintage garments shops as well as art rooms. While you're there, put into a piled-high hamburger at Ozzy's Hamburgers (66 1/2 Nassau St.; 00 1 416 862 7983)-- have the Mustang Sally.

Stroll it off by heading back down to Queen St. W. and also shopping your means westward-- both sides of the street, mind you-- completely to Trinity Bellwoods Park (790 Queen St. W. at Strachan Ave.). Must-stops in the process must consist of: Frank as well as Oak for men's and also ladies's clothing and also possibly a quick haircut (735 Queen St. W.; 00 1 647 930 8711), Zane for the developer jewelry and desirable bags (753 Queen St. W.; 00 1 647 352 9263) and the shoe heaven that is Heel Kid (773 Queen St. W.; 00 1 416 362 4335).

LATE

Supper is also westward this evening, but first, choose of fresh margaritas or tequila shots at Reposado (136 Ossington St.; 00 1 416 532 6474) or a couple of Rust and also Bone cocktails at The Drake Hotel (1150 Queen St. W.; 00 1 416 531 5042), whose bartenders virtually created the craft mixed drink scene in Toronto

Then for a little taste of Argentina at Tanto (74 Ossington Ave.; 00 1 416 546 3022). Fill out on the innovative little plates-- such as the spicy beef empanada with paprika aioli or smoked squid covered with pancetta as well as scorched almond salsa-- then just share one primary.

Later, take your pick of the area's live songs areas: a burlesque program at the saucy Painted Lady (218 Ossington Ave.), classic blues or people at The Dakota Pub (249 Ossington Ave.; 00 1 416 850 4579) or an indie band at The Fort (1197 Dundas St. W.; 00 1 416 519 9439).

- The very best night life in Toronto.

When to go ...

Might to October is the best time to visit Toronto, while the sun is out, the dining establishment patio areas are jumping, as well as everyone gets on the street after a lengthy winter season cooped inside. June, July and also August are usually hot and humid, 30 levels seems like 40 levels. On summertime weekend breaks, residents go out of community to their homes, leaving the city streets (and dining establishment chairs) to you. Summer season is additionally when most of the city's festivals are slated, focusing on food as well as beverage, arts and also theater, multiculturalism, songs as well as movie. The excellent climate just doesn't just transform itself off come August 31, either: In September, kids go back to college, grownups return to organisation as well as you have the sidewalks, stores and destinations to on your own.

Know prior to you go ...

Necessary information

Vacationer board info: 00 1 416 203 2500; seetorontonow.com Emergency situation fire and ambulance: 911 Emergency police: 911 British Consular Office: 777 Bay St., Collection 2800; 00 1 416 593 1290.

The essentials.

Flight time: Fly from London to Toronto in 7 hours. Currency: Canadian dollar. International dialling code: +1.

Local laws and etiquette.

- Canadians are notoriously courteous, conscientious as well as unstuffy, normally expecting the very same of others.

- Like elsewhere in North America, it is customary to tip 15-20 per cent for service in restaurants and bars. Ditto the cab driver, massage specialist, tourist guide and hairstylist. For hotel housekeeping team, budget plan CAD$ 3-$ 5 (₤ 1.80- ₤ 3) per day.

- The Toronto Transit System of trains, streetcars and buses-- while flawed-- is safe and also simple. The train trains stop at 1:30 am. Some streetcar and buses run overnight. Visit ttc.ca.

- Taxis abound and you can flag them down on the street or call one of the dozen business. Fares are approximately CAD$ 4 (₤ 2) per mile. Uber and Lyft vehicle drivers, while a lot more numerous as well as additionally less costly, are normally much less aware of the midtown streets, so cross your fingers.

- If you're driving yourself, know that you can make a right turn on a traffic signal and you can make a U-turn in the middle of the street, unless there are signs mentioning or else.

- Toronto is a two-kiss sort of location, however that is booked for people you know. A firm handshake is fine for brand-new associates.

- You can get cannabis legally. You have to smoke or vape it outside or in somebody's private residence. Check out ontario.ca/ cannabis for more details.

The post “ 48 hours in. . . Toronto, an insider guide to Canada's spirited first city “ was seen first on The Telegraph

Naturopathic Toronto Doctor - Dr. Amauri Caversan, ND

[that-wimpy-cowboy-doll]

Having the Hots

Hermione/Fred with “Sex on the Beach” for @youresucks

Rating: E

Summer Cocktail Prompts original post and request form

Read on AO3 here

“Are you sure you’ll survive a day there without something to work on?” Harry chuckles teasingly.  Hermione rolls her eyes, pushing her sunglasses high up her nose to block the sun glinting off the sand at her feet.

“Don’t you worry for me, I’ve brought plenty of books along in case the ocean and cabana boys can’t satisfy me.”  She thinks of the armfuls of law books stuffed into her suitcase, which is starting to feel alarmingly full, even with the extension charm she’s placed on it.  And then she decides to say fuck the books, because it’s not every day she allows herself the tender reprieve of a tropical vacation.  She props herself on her elbow, putting him on speaker phone.  “And, yes, they’re all books for my work.”

“How is the magical solicitor business going?” asks a voice decidedly not on the phone, and Hermione’s head snaps up to meet the gaze of one very pale, very ginger man in front of her.

“Harry, I - I’ll have to call you back - ”  She doesn’t wait for a response before snapping the phone shut, and pushes herself to her feet to level herself (as much as possible) to Fred’s height.  “What in bloody hell are you doing here, Fred Weasley?”

“I’ve earned a holiday myself.  A proper holiday, mind you, not just a means of transporting my work to a pretty place where I can pretend I’ve treated myself.”  She hasn’t seen him shirtless in years, and though the glare off him might just blind her, it’s hard to take her eyes off his broad shoulders, that wide chest, the slim line of equally ginger hair trailing from his navel into his swim shorts.  He’s freckled a bit more than she remembers, and Merlin, is she glad she’s wearing sunglasses so he can’t follow the arc of her eyes.  “Funnily enough, I modified one of those little devices - ” he nods at the phone in her hand “ - to help me detect any magic folk around me, and...here we are.”

Hermione raises her eyebrows, visibly impressed.  “Detecting wizards and witches?  Like some sort of electromagnetic field attuned to magic?  That’s clever technology, Fred.”

“I have been known to have my moments,” he says, nonchalant, his hands propped on his hips.  “You let me buy you a drink, I’ll tell you all about it.”

***********************************************

They spend most of the afternoon under a thatched roof at the bar, sharing a margarita the height of her arm, laughing about things they used to do, things they haven’t told each other about.  She feels a bit guilty telling Fred about the way Ron used to talk in his sleep - most often about spiders, or the Cannons, or Hermione - but the deep belly laugh that results only makes her do the same.

“You know how he used to fancy Madam Rosmerta?”

“Hermione, we all fancied Madam Rosmerta at one point or another.”

“He made such a fuss once, trying to collect all the glasses and plates for her.”  She’s grinning, drunk more on sun and sand than tequila, and wanting very much to reach forward and touch him on the arm about now.  “He would’ve smashed everything on the table, if she hadn’t gotten her wand out on time.”

“It’s easy to be dumbstruck by a woman like that.  Clever.  Independent.”  He raises an eyebrow at her, and they reach for the glass in unison.  Hermione tries not to gasp at her fingers dashing across his, and at Fred watching her intently over the place where neither of them are moving their hands.  “Not so unlike yourself, Granger.”

“Fred.”

She can taste the salt from the rim of their drink when he presses his lips to hers, and drunk more on him than tequila, smiles into his kiss.

***********************************************

She rocks him into her in her own cabana, tossing her head back to listen to the waves rolling into the shore, the sea breeze flapping the curtain that separates them from the beach.  Her fingers lace through his on her hips, and when she lifts herself up and plunges him back into her, she watches him revering her, tongue lazing over his bottom lip.

“Fuck, Hermione,” he groans low in his throat, and his eyes follow hers with every move, one hand digging hard into her ass.  Something about the way he says her name makes her want him even more.

“Merlin, Fred,” she hisses, leaning forward to plant her hands on either side of his head.  He slides up into her, gripping her tight, and lifts his head to pepper kisses along her chest.  When his teeth catch one of her nipples, she lets loose a cry the rest of the beach will undoubtedly hear.  He’s so thick, and so deep, and fuck, he fills her so right.  One of his hands sneaks between them, and Hermione feels herself building toward a high while he rolls his thumb over her clit in agonizing circles.  “Fuck - Fred!”

He chases her high shortly after, catching her when she collapses on top of him, both heaving and panting and sweating into each other.  She drops her forehead onto his, and he grins slowly up at her.  She can nearly feel her heart beat just a bit faster.

“You’re brilliant, Hermione.”

[midnigtartist]

7 with taakitz, which one of them would be this extra???

Thank you Nonny for my life

I gotta a little liberal with the promt here but I think the result is well worth it

7- Kissing the other persons hand before asking them to dance

2145 words because I have no goddamn chill apparently

Finally an excuse to write some wallflower Taako stuff thank thank

Taako is many things, a performer is not one of them. Above all else he’s a brother first, devoted to his sister. He’s a chef second, perhaps not professionally anymore more but cooking is a second nature, and a wizard third. He’s acquired other titles over his years of travel. Ties he would consider more distant, and less defining of himself like ‘mentor’ or “linguist’ or ‘hero’ or other silly shit like that, but performer is a whole nother ballpark. He’s a celebrity, a personality more than anything else. He puts up a good front of a charming socialite, but that’s more deception then performance.  He’s not an actor, and he’s certainly not a dancer.

Tears dried after a sentimental and blessedly short ceremony, the whole of the Fangbattle wedding party relocated over to Merle’s beachfront property for a rouqus reception. Taako’s gotta applauded the old dude’s keen eye for location, the venue is gorgeous. A little pub and grill built on an otherwise untouched strip of white sand beach, Taako can hear the crash of waves against the shore from here. Somehow they’d managed to cram everyone up on the back deck. A band, lead by Carey’s brother and a few of his other bard friends play a loud, jovial tune over the rush of the receding tide, beckoning party goers out onto the dance floor with a melody so enchanting there must be a little magic woven into the measures. Lanterns encircle the whole event, there dim glow casting swaying shadows over the floorboards as the sun starts to dip below the sea, staining the sky deep navy and bright pink. Tables draped in light linen clothes have been pushed out of the way to give the guest more room to dance and golden ivy vines creep up and along the railings of he deck. All in all a pretty classy affair, though Taako could certainly do without the ugly, tacky as hell fantasy tiki torches Merle had insisted on.

Almost everyone has found their way to the dance floor by now, even the most hesitant of guest swayed but the sweet sweet jams Jeremy is busting out on that flute. The brides haven’t left the floor since they stepped on to take their first dance, absolute shedding it out there as Killian dips and spins her newly wed wife with laughter on her lips and tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Magnus is out there too, stomping around with Angus standing on his feet and clinging to his hands like his life depended on it, the kid looking simultaneously terrified and like he’s having the time of his fucking life. Merle, who'd’ previously been sloppily gesticulating and gyrating in a fucking vomit inducing display is now actually dancing quite nicely with his daughter and son. Equally as sticking to Taako but, like, in a sweet, overly sentimental way now. Despite the sirens call of the music however, Taako has remained dutifully seated at a table just outside the welcoming glow of those horrible torches, picking his nails and watching the laughing masses with an uneasy boredom

Lup had sweep in like storm a few moments ago, snatching up his date and dragging Kravitz out onto the dance floor in what could only be described as the power move of the century. How many liches attempt to assert dominance over the goddamn Grim Reaper via rowdy wedding dancing? Not many, he’d imagine. Taako was in goddamn stitches as he watched his panicked boyfriend get towed along by the sleeve of his jacket by his just recently embodied sister. He had to admit, watching Kravitz fumble along after Lup’s commanding lead through a complex, fast paced dance that had lots of clapping and stomping and lifts was exceptionally entertained. He’d howled with the rest when the embassy of death itself found himself being dipped quite extravagantly by the brazen lich, but halfway through the second song, they’d been swallowed up the by the crowd and Taako had lost them. And now he was just board, edging on ready to pack it up and leave. Big shindigs like this are fun for about the first hour, then Taako starts to get antsy, especially when left alone. He can’t even find Barry or Ren. A little voice in his head tells that he’d be having a much better time if he just got off his ass and went to find someone to talk to but, nice try brain he’s not about to be tricked into making himself less miserable, so you can jot that the fuck down. No, he’s just going to sit here and stew, and shoo Angus away if he tries to ask him to come dance, and dismiss anyone attempts to get him to do something fun until it’s his turned to get dragged out onto the dance floor by Lup and goaded into shuffling along to the music before he snatches up his boo and bounces before the slow jams kick on. Maybe stanch some leftover dessert pie and matching bottle of wine while they make their escape. Maybe split the bottle with Krav then fuck on the couch. Maybe drink the whole bottle by himself in the bath, then fuck Krav on the couch. Probably just go the fuck to sleep with Krav and drink it in the morning. Regardless, all future plans at this point require Kravitz,  but he’s gotta find the handsome bastard first.

He spots the aforementioned handsome bastard as he bursts out of the drunken throng, stubbing his way over towards Taako’s perch. He looks windswept. Hair tousled, locs slowly slipping from his ponytail, shirt coming untucked, laughing breathlessly. The lantern light wraps him a warm, familiar, soft orange glow that highlights the peaks of his cheekbones and deep flush of exhersion that adorns them. Taako’s stomach does a meager cartwheel and the sensation manifests itself in the form of a small, affection curl of his lips.

Openly admiring his boyfriend as he leans against the side of his chair Taako hums. “Lost you there for a second, handsome” he says

Still out of breath, Kravitz offers up a wheezing chuckle an shrug. Sweat dews along his throat and the side of his face. He reaches up with one hand and starts to undo the knot of his tie, slipping it from around his neck.

“Looks like somebody had a good time” Taako comment, leaning forward onto the arm propped up on his knee

Once again, Kravitz answers with a breathless chuckle. “Your family can be quite-”

“Exhausting?” he supplies

“I was going to say, lively” Kravitz says, now stripping off his suit jacket.

He hands it to Taako without having to be asked, which Taako is quite grateful for. As stunning as his spaghetti strap, floral print, easy-breezy springtime jumper is, it does little to protect his bare arms from the chilly sea breeze.

“Well I hope you didn’t tired yourself out there, buckaroo, because cha’boi has plans for the rest of this evening” He drapes the heavy jacket over his shoulders. It warm with the body heat of the crowd, Taako’s surprised Kravitz don’t ditch it sooner.

Kravitz nods, taking the half drunk margarita Taako pushes his way. “Should I be worried?” he asks, then knocks back the drink.

Taako shrugs, “Depends on what I settle on”

Kravitz chuckles.  He rolls up the sleeves of his floral print dress shirt, then offers an outstretched hand to him, palm up in invitation. Taako eyes it wearily.

“You better not be tryin to get me to dance.” he warn, setting his hand tentatively into Kravitz hold.

Kravitz laughs. “You? Dance?”  and here he bends at the waist, taking Taako’s hand in both of his and kissing each ring clad knuckle irreverently. “I wouldn’t dream of it” there’s a cheeky grin plastered to his face. Taako rolls his eyes in a well intention way under the other man’s overzealous swagger. “Mind accompanying me for a breath of fresh air, love?” he continues.

Taako considers him a moment, the way the firelight catches the flicks of gold in his dark eyes, cracks from which his molten heart of gold push through to the surface. One thing he really appreciates about his boyfriend is how considerate his is without having to be asked. He better attuned with his needs then Taako is himself, and he admires that about the reaper. So he lets himself be pulled gently from his chair.

“Only if you insist, darling,” he croons, pretending like he doesn’t also need a break from the noise and the light and the people.

He she kicks off his strappy, heeled sandals, Kravitz strips off his dress shoes and wads up his socks into them, and together they sneak around to the stairs

They leave the glow and laughter and cheers of the party to their back and steal into the dark twilight that’s settled over the sandy shoreline,Taako’s arm threaded through Kravitz’. The sand is still blistering hot from the heat of the day, burning the soles of Taako’s feet, enveloping his toes as he wades quick as he can towards the waters edge. Together they step over the precipice of dry beach onto the cooler sand the ocean has left wet. Kravitz takes his hand, locking warm fingers around his own like promise and they set off down the coast, teasing as close to the waves as they dare. Every so often a particularly ambitious wave splashes up around their ankles, turning the white sand caked to the tops of his feet brown.

They walk in a companionable silence for a long while. The party to the right of them, the waves and the seemingly endless sea to their left, and the moon and a million billion stars above them, bathing them both in silvery light. If he listens hard enough, Taako can just barely make out a distant melody over the crash of the rolling water and the whisper of the ocean breeze.“Did you have fun tonight Taako?” Kravitz asks, swinging their hands absently between them.

“Hell yeah, my fella” Taako says. “Hard not to with those guys.”

Taako isn’t one for small talk, doesn’t give a shit about pleasantries. So when he asks Kravitz: “Did you? ” it’s out of a genuine interest, and not just something to fill the void of dialogue.

Kravitz sighs with the breeze. “I had a lovely time.” he says. “I just- I love being around people, I love being around your family.” he squeeze Taako’s hand. “Celebrating with them, laughing with them, spending time with you. It’s been so long since I experienced community and affection like this, of being part of- of something so deeply moving as the love you all have for one another, it makes me feel so overwhelmingly- alive.”

Eventually they pause, not wanting to lose the light of the party entirely, and stare out over the dark sea. It seems endless, too big to comprehend, too deep to ever know. Taako’s stomach drops as the scope of it swallows him whole. All at once, he feels far to small and singular. He shuffles closer to Kravitz, whose body is still warm with exhersion and the collective body heat of a dozen or some drunken idiots, sets both hands of his shoulders and press his cheek into the crook of his neck.

“When Lulu and I were kids, she used to stare up at the night sky, just stand there and, uh, fuckin stare at the stars ‘n shit, like she could see her whole damn future if she looked hard enough.” he murmurs. “I couldn't’ do it though, cause you look up there and all there is is this gaping void of nothing and it was like, if you stared at it too long the world was gonna tip over and you’d fall in and get lost in all that nothing. I used to hold her hand, like I could hold her down or something, so she wouldn’t get lost. Fuckin’ uh fuckin dumb as hell right?”

Kravitz kisses the back of his head. Taako closes his eyes and leaned the full weight of his body into his gradually cooling frame.

After a long while, Taako picks up on the small swaying motion of his body. A musician at heart, Kravitz had somehow picked up the music of the party, still in full swing in the distance, and started swaying in time with the tempo. He hums along, the vibrations in his chest and his throat as he continues to move them. Taako doesn’t stop him. Instead he curl closer to his chest, laying his head against his shoulder as the other man reaches around so that both arm lay across his waist, spinning them on the spot. Not quite dancing, but something close.

[tarnishedhalo]

Ship meme: The whiskey three

Married Life || Accepting { @therealgamble, @whiskeyandtwoshotglasses}

If  We Don’t Die, It’ll Make a Helluva Story

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

The night before…

“Jesus, Riley, do you have to be such a slob?” “You were the one that said I couldn’t bring B-”“Say her name one more time-”

“Guys…honestly, is it so hard to-” It was all fun and games before the whiskey got knocked over and the tee-shirt was used to mop it up.

forgets to run the dish washer

It’s a land of empty mre packets and plastic utensil forests. There’s empty 3.2 cans, packed in such a way that they’d been claimed as tactical gear…and somehow, the brass bought it. All to avoid Punto Negro the Second of its Name.

Hunter still refuses to tell Gamble the story, and as predicted, uses security clearance as his excuse. Riley just laughs.

pumps gas for the car

It’s a known fact that Gamble drives. Riley pumps the gas because it’s better than waiting ~but it’s so he can stretch and pull tension out of his spine, his leg~ and Hunter…Hunter is the one that sits in the back, dreaming of margaritas and warm sands. Until they hit the roadblock. Then there’s a burst of thirty second activity. Before the car moves an inch, Brian’s now in the back, black case at his feet, looks like a suitcase. They know better. Hunter’s behind the wheel because he’s the one that speaks the local language. And Riley’s the one muttering it’s never going to work until Gamble kicks his seat.

It’s a fire-drill every few dozen clicks, lather rinse and repeat as it was before. Their shirts stick to their skin, rivers of damp down their spine, their brow, every part of them that isn’t covered with dirt.

drives when they’re going somewhere

It’s old hat by now. Squad forward to the release point.

Bravo is silent because there’s none, which makes some things better, some worse.

“Kumbaya, kids.”

The claymores are in place, camouflaged. The moon is low giving limited visibility so they have to rely on Gamble who is far too cheerful. The patrol they’ve set up against is destined to make its rounds and Riley and Hunter have established a crossfire. It will be a kill zone for forty-five seconds. Then green smoke between their position and the objective.

“You should see the look on your faces.”Riley knows Gamble’s keeping up moral in his way and because he knows neither Riley nor Hunter can smack-talk back. It’s both a comfort and an annoyance.

Gamble lets out a low, sharp whistle over the comms and time starts. Patrol is at Nine and Twelve. A deviation from what recon had gathered but it makes no difference. There’s barely sound as the first shots don’t ring out, weapons suppressed. 

“My granny leap-frogs better than you two old ladies. And she’s been dead twenty years. Don’t make me come down there and show you how it’s done.”

They move, covering each other while Gamble watches over, picks off the extras with well placed shots.

They hit the door and kick down the door, smoke obscuring everything, even breath. The masks do little to filter out the acrid taste but at least they aren’t crying. 

“Five…four….three….two….white.”

Moments later, out they come, dragging the limp frame between them. Riley hands over his rifle, Hunter slings his over his shoulder. The objective gets slung over Riley’s shoulder and it’s a running back’s rush as the PJ eats ground. The Brit’s not far behind him, pulling a pin with his teeth and lobbing the grenade into the building’s open maw.

rearranges the furniture

There’s four of them now, crammed into a space barely bigger than a couple of jail cells, and the civvie’s getting antsy. Keeps asking questions none of the Whiskey Three have answers for. Gamble’s given up trying to allay the engineer’s fears and has started ignoring him. Riley just keeps pouring drinks. Hunter thinks both of them are pretty shitty when it comes to intel.

He pulls a cable spool over to make a makeshift table, used chalk and a sharpie to make a board. Pebbles for pieces. Talks to him in his own language over the longest checkers game in history, because, as he reminds the other two…

This man is afraid. Was rescued from his own murder because he was willing to betray his god and his family to do the right thing. He’s still human.

Later, when the night gets cold because the desert’s a bitch that way, Hunter pulls the spare sleeping bag closer to the portable heat source, and gives the guy an extra blanket, and space to pray.

He notices though, that their guest isn’t the only one. Gamble’s got a well worn picture of Tabby that he may or may not just have brushed a thumb over, and he knows without a doubt that it’s a rosary Riley’s murmuring over. In moments like that, Hunter bites his tongue and doesn’t ask him if it’s Mary or his sister that he’s praying to. Low hanging fruit, and all.

falls asleep with the TV on

Three days on and things have scraped the bottom of the barrel for boring. And Riley’s going out of his mind. Waiting was always the worst part of the job, the hours and hours of nothing but watching sand-flies crawl up the crumbling mud walls, and the heat shimmer parching the dirt outside, micro-waving the horizon.

Muzzani and Hunter have grown tired of checkers, and are dozing off the afternoon heat. Gamble’s turn on the radio.

“You ever think about retiring from this? Getting a joe-job and-”“Naw. Where would you two be without me saving your asses?”“But we could be home right now, cold beer, game on the tv, yelling at the refs for shitty calls.”

“And who would you put in our place?”

“You make a valid point.”“Sure as shit I do.”

Riley shacks up in a corner, back against the wall, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. He refuses to complain, but some part of him knows he’s starting to get too old for this. He pulls his lid down over his eyes and closes them for just a minute…

gets to use the bathroom first

It’s the only time that Hunter’s had to himself, and of course, he’s stuck inside three and a bit canvas walls. He steals from it a moment of serenity from Riley’s constant complaint and Gamble’s murderous sarcasm. Even Muzzani’s hopelessness and fears. It gives him a moment of focus and clarity, to remind himself that they just need to wait a little longer.

Patience, after all, was a virtue, even here.

Patience is also what he calls the camel-spider lurking near the toilet paper.He doesn’t mention Patience because you have to laugh about something.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

From temperatures that can soar upwards of a 105 degrees during the day, down to less than 40 at night, each one of them believes this is hell, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

sets up holiday decorations

“Uh…what are you doing?”

“Herding sheep. The fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

“….where did you even get flowers?”

“Muzzani and Hunter helped me out.”“And you’re stringing them together with…suture thread and a needle from the med kit?”

“It’s tradition.”“For…what?”

“It’s June 11th. Kamehameha day. So I’m making a lei.”

“You…need…fuckin’ therapy.”

leaves the lights on

Gamble’s set up the left side, Riley the right. They aren’t exactly landing lights but you do what you can. The road flares glow with a sickly pale red light, but it’ll be enough for the chopper to pick up a visual. It’s a bittersweet sensation; on one hand, it means finally going home. On the other, it means giving away your location and things have been going too smoothly, too quietly…

They’re all thinking it, but no one wants to be the asshole who says it out loud.

uses the bathroom with the door open

Man was raised in a bar, can’t be bothered to walk the hundred paces to make it from the door way to the latrine. Just unzips and lets it go, shakes. All with one hand, rifle steady in the other.“Do you do that at home?”Riley flashes Hunter a grin, even in the dark.

Gamble bites back on the first, second, thirty-fifth thing that comes to mind.

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

Sand scours the few exposed bits of flesh as the chopper blades whip it into a frenzy, not that they notice. Their luck didn’t hold out like it promised to. The night is filled with the staccato burst of automatic fire on both sides, Hunter’s running point with Muzzani and they’re half way toward the dark silhouette and the open doors that mean extraction.

Gamble and Riley are laying down cover fire and they’re running low; four heart beats later, Gamble’s shouting for them to haul ass and…nothing happens. He’s gotten about a third of the way when he notices he’s running alone.“Shit. Shit. Shit.”The pilot’s signaling, Hunter’s screaming…And fucktard’s not moving at all.

Keying his radio, Gamble barks a change in plan, from gun-run to cas-evac. And as soon as they get back to civilization, he’s going to kick Riley’s ass.

He turns back to drag his friend from the shadow of the building.

[butrflyho3]

Self title

I’m angry, more like outraged. I tripped over my own feet. my purple converse, because life was getting to me and my brain. I felt insane,

When I drove I couldn’t even stay in my own damn lane. I was swerving, and speeding but I didn’t lose control, no not at all.

My mind was like a three thousand piece puzzle set, barely could put any parts together, frustration came my way, especially in December. couldn’t get my way,spoiled from early on, mom and dad always saved me when I took a fall.

I never forgot, I always remember.

Sleep? What about that? These mood swings I’m having are giving me flashbacks, better swallow something, get it down my windpipe,I got my pills in my backpack.

In case I have a panic attack, because those come often and it feels like I’m on an airplane knowing it’s about to crash.

Fuck! Look at me! I’m trash. My looks are vile. But people say my best feature is when I smile. How to smile? don’t know. Sometimes I will but it’s all just a show, an act, just pretending that’s my fact.

You see the person who I am, easy enough to say I’m not like a map, you’ll never get to your destination, Right now I feel like a destructive creation.

Let’s face it we all make poor choices but my impulsiveness takes over my body and mind,reaches for things I shouldn’t play with.

In disguise without even knowing I’m going down deeper and deeper but I feel so high, such like I’m my own magnet. I was loyal only to myself. I feel like I cant die. And I don’t need a guy to tell me I’m cute, I can be by myself people want to put me on mute because I’m so loud and obnoxious and embarrassing around them. Fuck what you say, fuck what you think, you don’t like it? Don’t blink, don’t shut your eyes. Because we aren’t done yet, let’s go to a party and drink. Alyssa you don’t think! You can’t have a drink because then you’ll have a mental outburst they’ll make you see a shrink.

All I remember is dancing in the streets of downtown providence to the loud music with friends. I was at gay pride having the time of my life. Then...Nauseated, and dizzy I get up look around I feel so shitty. Regret starts kicking in and I didn’t know if it’d ever pass. So I hit up my friend from Mass because I know he’s looking for a piece of ass, and I’m bored and want to feel something, I want to have reckless, futile, sex and just live in the moment. boyfriends? No I’m not interested, I claim myself and always will because no one controls me.

I got to this mans house he’s told me to come in. the doors unlocked, first thing I saw was him. And a bottle of hard liquor, and wine, he said I looked a mess but I was still fuckin fine. He walks closer and puts his hands on my hips and looks me in the eyes and looking back, I wanted to be touched that’s a fact. He had a margarita in his right hand, reminds me of summer time spend in the water, sun, and sand.

So he put his tongue in my mouth and I started to breathe so fucking loud, he took my hand and led me to his bedroom, the source of it all. He stripped me down from head to toe and I wasn’t shy I was feeling so high, so tall. Now we are talking fun I thought to myself. I looked him dead in the eye, he laughed, he said your in for it girl, your ass is getting slapped. When we slipped into his bed things got intense and I’m dumb enough for this but we didn’t use any latex. He fell asleep wanting to hold me but that was all I wanted and nothing more, hookups were close friends of mine at the time. My clothes were back on within a minute and I left instantly and finally found myself home. My roommate asked where I’ve been for these past 4 days, and I didn’t even realize I’d been gone so long, stuck in a haze. I kept thinking about all the guys I wanted to meet up with just for fun, but most of these guys are complete scum. So I started coming down and I didn’t even get fucked up, no I don’t do drugs. I fell asleep in clean fabric sheets, one of the best I ever slept. Here’s comes a tidal wave, flooding, drowning my brain. Such sadness and guilt, shame and there was no one but me to blame. So I started sobbing thinking about all those things my first love said. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to feel, I just don’t want to deal. Deal with this pain in my heart and in my head I don’t want to be here, I was going to bleed out in my bedroom but I told someone instead. I was admitted to butler hospital, shaking and weeping telling them I’m scared because I didn’t want to exist anymore. These doctors here knew about my brain, how it worked, diagnosed and prescribed to be medicated. There was one pill that made me feel real sedated. These were not happy pills just something to function, it takes time and feels like it’s been a while, but learning and listening helped me the most. I could cope. I liked it in there, when i was discharged I almost didn’t want to go. But that’s the truth of it all, don’t take the fall make the call, and tell someone how you feel because your life is a gift and a precious one, you have to admit. You don’t get another life but this.

I don’t want you to die, stay alive because we all suffer battles just different demons.theres nothing bad about you, love yourself, feel and dig deep into your feelings.

Alyssa you have bi polar the doctors said. Not defined by it because it doesn’t run my life, I’m owning it, today I got out of bed. Finally I start to look at things bright instead of dark, and these cuts on my arms and wrists are proof I survived they are more than just a mark.

Written By Alyssa King

[cafffine]

Please keep Chewie posting, I literally love him so much

I'll never stop Chewie posting anon, in fact, here's a little fic about Chewie, beach trips, and his family just for you 😬💘 (read on ao3)

“Chewie,” Luke wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Please, please, one more time.”

“Alright, okay, leave him alone,” Han grumbled. “I think we’ve heard enough.”

“No, no, one more!”

Chewbacca reached over and pat Han’s shoulder. “I don’t mind, but you are kind to look out for me.”

Han rolled his eyes and tapped away at the navi-computer. “Whatever, we’re gonna be there soon anyway.”

Leia gasped for breath and pushed herself back into the seat she’d slid out of. “Hold on, hold on I wasn’t ready, oh stars.”

Chewbacca smiled and busied himself with landing preparations while the twin’s laughter died down. He knew it made Han nervous sometimes, but he liked when everyone rode in the cockpit, traveling was better as a communal effort.

Luke leaned forward and popped his head between the pilot seats. “Okay, we’re good, please, just give it your best shot.”

“I’ll try,” Chewbacca hummed. “But it’s not going to come out right.”

Han reached up and got the stabilizers warming. “That’s the point, they’re making fun of you.”

“Han, Han,” Chewbacca soothed. “You’re too tense, I think you should take a nap once we arrive.”

“Oh, sure, and karking burn to death?”

“I brought an umbrella.” Chewbacca gestured to the back. “You will be safe.”

“Chewie, please,” Luke whined.

“Okay.” Chewbacca nodded. “Give me a moment.” The chances of success were in the negatives, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give it his best.

He hummed a few times to ready his vocal cords and clear his throat, this alone was enough to send Leia into a fit once more.

“You can do it.” Luke kicked his sister. “I believe in you.”

Chewbacca gave Luke’s little blond head an appreciative scratch, maybe he could do it.

“Take it slow,” Han advised. “It’s only two syllables.”

Chewbacca took a deep breath. “H-E,” he barked out, doing his damnedest to replicate the impossible sounds of basic. “L-L-L-L-OH.”

Luke shrieked and collapsed to the floor.

“No, oh Gods.” Leia shook her head, her eyeliner was starting to run. “That is too – I can’t handle this.”

“Good try.” Han had to turn towards the radio to hide his laughter. “That was a good try, buddy.”

“I think I’m getting better.” Chewbacca flicked off the shields and began redirecting power to engines in preparation for the end of their jump. “You should have heard me fifty years ago.”

“Why wasn’t I recording?” Luke moaned. “Wedge would lose his mind if I played that for him.”

Leia fanned her face and kicked her feet up on Han’s armrest. “I’m going to be thinking about that all day, that was amazing.”

“Buckle up, both of you.” Han tapped Leia’s foot. “And someone needs to put sunscreen on my back.”

Chewbacca raised his hand. “I’d be happy to-”

“No.” Han grimaced. “Anyone but you. Your fur always gets in it and – augh – no.”

“Sunscreen?” Luke flopped back into his seat. “There’s only gonna be one sun, how bad could it be?”

Leia tossed a bottle into his lap. “Bad. And if you don’t put it on, I’ll tell Threepio.”

“Rude.” Luke threw the bottle back at her. “I’ll do it when we get there.”

“We are here.” Han leaned back and braced himself as the Falcon snapped out of hyperspace and began gliding towards the bright turquoise of southern Glee Anselm. “Now put the damn sunscreen on, kid. You’re paler than me.”

“And don’t forget the tips of your ears,” Chewbacca added. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying it was for humans and their baldness. He’d left Han out in the sun for too long once and his shoulders started to peel the next day, it was a trauma he was still recovering from.

“Chewie, can you pull the map up? I haven’t been here in ages.” Han squinted down at the distant strips of sand and kicked the engine down to just above the speed limit. “Man, I hope we can find parking.”

Leia frowned. “If we had borrowed the Phantom from Hera like I suggested that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Sweetheart,” Han bit. “If we’d come in the Phantom, there’d be no one to stop Lando from taking my ship-”

“Who cares?” Leia tossed her hands up. “Let him have it! Who takes a freighter this big to the beach anyway?”

Han whipped around; finger raised. “Look, if you two want to fly yourself two kriffing systems over-”

“Oh, come on,” Luke groaned “What did I do?”

“-then you are welcome to use that pathetic little shuttle. But if you want me to get you there? We’re taking the Falcon.”

“Don’t argue, please, don’t argue.” Chewbacca reached over and gently guided Han’s attention back towards the window. “I’ll drop you all off at the entrance and park the ship myself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Han muttered. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Them?” Luke squawked. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Shut up.” Leia threw the bottle of sunscreen back at his head. “It’s because he knows you’re on my side.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“It’ll be fine,” Chewbacca assured. “Just message me where you pitch the umbrella and I’ll be there when I can.”

Han shook his head, still bitter about Leia’s betrayal. “I just don’t think we should split up. It’s winter on six of the planets in this system, the place is gonna be packed.”

“I’m very tall.” Chewbacca sat up straighter to demonstrate. “I’ll find you.”

“Hey, are we drinking?” Luke leaned forward again, ignoring Han’s annoyed glance. “I heard there’s a place near the lifeguard tent that serves Margaritas Shili style.”

“Like you could handle that,” Leia scoffed.

“Not me.” Chewbacca hit the switch for the landing gear. “I need to have a clear mind when I fly you all home, but you can enjoy yourselves.”

“What’d he say?” Luke asked.

Han chuckled. “He said go crazy.”

Luke thumped Chewbacca’s arm. “That’s why he’s my favorite.”

Chewbacca waited until the ship was stable, then took Han’s seat as the group began to gather their towels and tote bags. The sky outside was clear blue and the sand pure white, Chewbacca did not look forward to washing it out of his fur.

He couldn’t complain, though. They’d chosen a good day, the crowds were worth it. The sun was just direct enough to keep the water warm without making the sand too hot for sensitive human feet to walk on.

“I don’t care how good it is, do not pay more than twenty credits for parking,” Han instructed. “We are not a bunch of clueless tourists.”

“I know, I know.” Chewbacca waved him off. “I’ll find a good spot.”

“Thanks, Chewie!” Luke waved before skipping out into the sun, followed by his sister and a yawning Han.

“Don’t forget the umbrella!” Chewbacca called after them. “Han! The umbrella!”

“Yep, yeah, got it.” Han came dashing back up the gangway and snatched the folded umbrella off the table. “Thanks, pal.”

“You are welcome.”

Chewbacca waited to start the engine until he could see the three of them trudging through the sand and towards the water. Han was speaking angrily with his hands and Leia reached around him to bat Luke in the head with her inflatable doughnut.

Chewbacca was happy for them. “H-E,” he began, then shook his head, one battle at a time.

[dieuleveut]

April 14th, 2018

I’m in Los Angeles.

I’ve been here since February 10th. So...a little over two months? People here still consider me new and fresh, and they’re not wrong. I’ve been doing a pretty great job at learning the new geography, all the neighborhoods and freeways.

Let me update you.

I’ve been living with Jordon who went to Bradley University with me. But I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress in his living room. Totally fine, I’m pretty low-maintenance anyway. Except I had told him I did not plan on crashing in his living for any longer than a month and up until now it had been over two months. Cue liar-anxiety. Then we find out that his roommate Drake will be moving in with his girlfriend in May/June and that his room may be up for grabs. I’m super interested and thus I’m staying in this living room, hoping to squat and slide into Drake’s room. Now, Jordon tells me he has a friend from high school who is moving to LA in June that he prefers to live with. Totally fine. Cue apartment-hunting anxiety again.

Now, my work situation. I moved here to do production work, but it doesn’t pay the bills (yet), so I got hired as a server at Tatsu Ramen at the end of February. The pay is pretty darn good. $13/hr and tips are about 1/3rd times the pay and I’m working close to full time. Insurance once I’ve hit 3 months. Almost everybody is really fun and sweet. Emily is the second newest hire and probably someone I can consider a friend (the first I’ve made in LA outside of Jordon!) She let me crash on her couch after a sleep deprived night and Jordon was hosting a loud brunch party. Vince is someone I would recently consider a friend! We’ve been hanging out quite a bit this past weekend and he’s a pleasant person to do stuff with! Sadly, he’s moving to New York City later this week so it kinda explains the accelerated friendship fun.

He came out drinking with me at some bougie place called The Bungalow that charged $15 for a margarita and $9 for a PBR. Emily met up with us after she got off of work and arrived at 1:30am, which apparently is when LA bars decide to close and stop serving alcohol. So slightly drunk Vince and me and stone-cold sober Emily walk down to Santa Monica beach, because I’m drunk and I hadn’t been to the beach in the two months I’ve been in LA. It was pitch black, sand cold as fuck. Vince and I (separately) break the pee seal in the sand dunes. Public urination FTW. We continue walking towards the ocean, I walk ahead of them in a drunk euphoria. I fucking love the ocean. I kick off my shoes and feel the wet, stiff sand under my feet. I only go ankle deep into the water but I’m content. Behind us, it seems like we’re not the only people in the entirety of Los Angeles who like to come to the beach at night. But it’s dark and the lights of the pier make them into indiscernible shadows. The lights also reflected off of the wet sand, like an upside down world mirrored from the pier. I’m wearing Vince’s denim jacket, barefoot and impossibly happy. My friends are taking pictures, laughing and playing in the water. I hope they were as I happy as I was.

Today, we had plans to head to Manhattan Beach. However, Emily backed out, still feeling the after effects of last night. I showered, got dressed. If anything, I would go alone. I don’t mind doing things on my own. It’s a common theme in my life. Then Vince texts me back saying he’s down. I drive to his place and the sweet man brings out a bottle of water for each of us and recommends we eat at a place nearby called The Public School. It’s cute and school themed, though I spent most of my life trying to avoid school themed things. Before meeting up with Vince, I was honestly nervous hanging out one-on-one with him. I just didn’t know who or what to expect outside of the comfort zone of Tatsu or drinking as a social buffer. And to my surprise, he’s actually really easy to hang out with. I don’t feel a need to impress him and yet I feel like I do. Conversation isn’t forced, it in fact flows really smoothly. And we don’t even crutch on Tatsu talk. We talk about hobbies, thoughts on LA and New York, families. Actually. Now that I think about it, we talked a lot about me. Vince and I are going to the Getty Center Museum tomorrow afternoon. I need to remind myself to ask Vince about himself more.

We also went to the Museum of Jurassic Technology yesterday too! That was fucking weird. But mutually agreed the best $8 spent. Cheaper than a can of PBR. They had such weird artifacts...and facts. Miniature models of mobile homes, paintings of the Russian dogs sent to space, a garden with tea and doves. “I can not think of a better person to have done this with,” Vince concluded after we exited (I only mention this part verbatim because people? like? hanging out with me?). We were supposed to finally hit up Manhattan Beach at this point, but I had an appointment to drop off my new apartment deposit and rent so we agreed to take a short intermission as I dropped him off to his apartment.

I arrive at my new apartment, which is located in a beautiful little family neighborhood. It seems like it has great air and it’s quiet. I would be absolutely ecstatic to be moving into this place if it weren’t a 45 minute commute on my way to work. I guess it balances out the 15 minute commute on my way back from work at 3:00am. And it makes me feel a little better that my roommate Hillary would be commuting over an hour. The apartment itself is super spacious and has beautiful hardwood floors and appliances.

We drop off the checks, go through the inspection and we plan on moving in tomorrow. Luckily, I only have the things that I can pack into my car, so I don’t have much to move. Except that Vince is giving me his mattress, bed frame, TV stand and possibly his TV so I have to find some way to move those.

When we finish all the apartment things, Vince calls me and tells me he actually had something come up and that he won’t be able to make the beach with me. Initially I’m disappointed but then I resolve to go anyway alone. That was my plan from the beginning and actually, this day folded pretty well. I got quality time with Vince and I still get to go to the beach. Parking was a bit of a nightmare but I eventually find a really tight spot (and tight as in literally, not in the dudebro connotation).

I get there and I’m in love. The sand between my toes, the wind, the air, the birds and the ocean waves crashing. The sky is completely spotless and blue, save for the occasional aircraft. Even though it’s a beautiful Saturday evening, the beach is pretty spread out and spacious between everyone. I easily find a spot to sit and enjoy the ocean without people close to me and no one in my view of the sunset. 9/10 absolutely would go again, despite the 30-40minute drive. Only glaring negative was the random middle aged guy who started talking to me. I only engaged in conversation once he mentioned he was from Minnesota (how can I turn away a fellow Minnesotan). But this guy talked to me forever, basically until the sun literally went down. Angry face emoji. It’s fine, except I could not tell what he wanted? Was he just being friendly? Was he trying to hit on me? Was he networking? Why me? The answer to that last one (or I guess all of them) is “because you’re a girl alone on the beach.”

I’m writing a lot. I’m aware. But one last thing I should catch you up on is Jun. He comes last because I honestly have mixed feelings about him. So we had a bit of a pre-dating thing going. You know, where the two of you flirt and are hyperaware when y’all brush up against each other and stuff? We were drinking after work at Emily’s place with a few other coworkers and after everything died down, we crashed on her couch. We stayed up talking for another couple hours, stroking hands and touching until he gets up and kisses me. I’m fucking giddy because I’m kissing Jun and Jun is kissing me. He puts a hand on my breast and starts playing with my nipple, which I put an immediate stop to because fucking Josh (one of our coworkers) is sleeping on the floor near us and Jun’s got me physically wanting to climb him like a tree.

The next night we both work together again and he invites me to come back to his place. We sit and chat for a while over a couple beers before picking up where we left off the night before. I want to keep the dirty deets to myself but in a nutshell, we fucked three times. I came once, which honestly surprised me because it took me a hell of a long time to come with Matt. Jun and I also did it three times without protection. Which yes dear reader, I know it’s fucking stupid and this is the second guy I’ve done that with; having gotten caught up in the moment and just submitting to the moment without caring about the consequences. But both times I eventually convinced myself to take Plan B. I also know that Plan B is not a form of birth control. I still have two months worth of the pill from when I was dating Matt, but I won’t start them unless I’m consistently sexually active. No point in fucking with my hormones if I’m only smashing once in a blue moon. So yes, I went out and bought condoms. A girl will be prepared, even if she hates condoms.

Anyway, Jun. He tells me he doesn’t want anything serious. He tells me he’s going out for drinks with a girl the next night. Twice now he’s been too tired to hang out after work (which is definitely warranted because we’re both up til 3-4am every fucking night closing at Tatsu). As far as it looks, doesn’t seem like any more than a one and done. Which is a bummer. I could mentally/emotionally prepare for a no-strings-attached deal, I just wanted to be with Jun in some capacity but it seems like once we smashed, he didn’t want the same. I can hear my mom’s voice saying some shit like “Guys only want one thing and once they get it they’re out.” First of all, everyone has a fluid amount of sexual drive but everyone also has emotional needs and connections with people. I could easily fuck and chuck Eric from Peoria and be exactly the kind of “guy” my mom thinks guys are. But then there was fucking Ravi who I fucked one time and the guy would not leave me alone. He relentlessly messaged me on Facebook, found my Instagram, Snapchat? Some guys don’t just fuck once and leave, some stick around for more. It’s dependent. Which is why is sucks that the situation with Jun is what it is. But looking at “fate” or whatever, it makes sense. There were just small instances where I felt like I was being told, “hey this isn’t meant to happen.” Things that are meant to happen will be pushed in the right direction. Like today with Vince and the beach. Life told me that I should hang out with Vince by getting lunch and experiencing The Museum of Jurassic Technology, and then it told me that Manhattan Beach is just for me.

Despite my lack of romantic success, I feel good. Things seem to be falling into the right place at the right times. I have an apartment, I have people who I enjoy being with and doing stuff with. I have someone who believes in my skills and my potential (Vince, who has been pushing for my promotion at Tatsu and providing me some serious support.) Everything that will be will be.

---

1:34am (technically April 15th)

I just remembered something that Vince told me last night at the Bungalow that I want to write down for my fragile ego’s sake:

“Apparently you have a fan base at Tatsu. I had a customer come in yesterday and ask me ‘is Juliet working tonight? I have some friends I want to bring in to meet her, is she working this weekend?”

Vince couldn’t tell me the name or face of the guy who asked but I am beyond thrilled/happy/giddy that a CUSTOMER knows my name, my face and LIKES me enough to want to have his friends meet me *flips hair.* As someone who obsessively checks the Yelp reviews for mentions of a “cute helpful Asian waitress” or my actual name, this will be an integral part of my self-esteem :)

[lyricalt]

[ovw] more beach stuff (3)

Rating: T Characters: light mcgenji, plus some surprises. Warning: alcohol mention, bad jokes Note: sometimes.. you want to write something... utterly pointless set to funky music.

Genji hears the makeshift ladder rattle first and then top of McCree’s bleach-blond head appears over the ledge. He’s about to make a smart comment about it, one out of several since the beginning of the mission, but McCree starts talking in numbers and coordinates so Genji turns back around to look out into the ocean, using his HUD to direct his gaze. There’s a third yacht coming in view, windows all tinted and a couple of people sunbathing on the deck. Genji’s HUD snaps a picture, though he isn’t equipped enough to offer anything more than a simple visual.

McCree joins him on the small rooftop, bare feet leaving wet footprints on the ridged tiles. Technically, the lifeguard tower’s rooftop isn’t made to be stood on, but that has never stopped Genji or McCree from climbing up for a better view before. McCree crouches low next to Genji, hair still dripping wet in it’s tie.

The roof slants at an upwards angle facing the ocean. It’s one of the many reasons why they have found it more preferable, being able to have some form of cover while they kept their eye on the yacht convoy at sea. McCree lowers himself on his stomach, shoulder pressing to Genji’s as he starts to adjust his sniper rifle setup.

The rooftop is a small space, but not that small. Genji humors McCree for a moment before he scoots to one side, reaching for the pack of supplies. “What do you need?”

“Get me one of them, uh, dust trackers. And a regular bead,” says McCree, putting his eye to the scope of the sniper rifle. He pauses, easing away for a moment, and blinks with a frown. The rifle is a standard issue, perfectly reliable, but McCree has been modifying it bit by bit on his own time.

Genji picks out the requested items, handing over a tracking bead and the smaller, more expensive cap of the dust tracker. He assumes McCree is still unsatisfied by the gun, but any more customizations and Genji thinks the rifle would just turn into another revolver.

“This shit’s too fiddly for me,” McCree mutters, peering through the scope again and lining his sights. He taps the tripod stand. “Haven’t done this stuff in ages.”

Genji gives him a pat on the shoulder, fingers trailing up to tuck a damp lock of bright yellow hair behind McCree’s ear. “Hm, I see. Would you rather I do it?”

McCree stops his scope measurements, head turning so fast he might have been in danger of spraining it. Genji gives him a leveled stare in return and then, with a smirk, McCree takes the specialized bullets from Genji’s palm. His hand slides further down Genji’s arm. He presses his mouth to Genji’s warmed metal wrist.

“Oh, sweetpea, we know you’ll fuck up the whole mission if you do,” McCree says kindly, and starts loading the rifle, tracking bead first.

“I thought you would say that.” Genji settles back, letting McCree do his work.

McCree’s first shot with the rifle goes unnoticed, timed to fire with the distant lighthouse horn. Genji follows the bullet with his cybernetic sight and a pair of binoculars. He sees the tracking bead stick to one of the antennas of the third yacht, high enough to be not be knocked by waves or seen when the boat is docked. Genji worries for a moment about the sound of the bead hitting against the metal rod, but McCree had caught the second the sail lines chimed over the metal poles, waving from the sea breeze. The ding! of the tracker matches perfectly with the ping! of the sail lines. Genji smiles from behind his mask but doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he pats the small of McCree’s back twice, signaling a confirmation. McCree breathes again.

It takes another minute to load the dust tracker and calculate the whatever variables McCree needs to adjust. As far as Genji understands, a dust tracker is a timed-loaded bullet, set to release a puff of particles to be inhaled. Ideally, it would track the location of the target who breathes it in for a day or two, depending on the amount inhaled.

The tricky part is, of course, firing the bullet in such a way that it releases beneath or near the person’s nose or on their clothes—without the target feeling it. Genji thinks it would be easier for him to simply run up to the person with the dust tracker and cup his hands over the target’s mouth himself, but they have orders to not engage and only observe. Winston had been very firm about it, and Genji supposes if he wants the quieter mission, he ought to obey.

McCree goes still for a very long while, eye to the scope and finger over the trigger. Genji almost gets bored of waiting, but he observes their target—one of the people sunbathing on the yacht deck with an impressively large fishbowl of margarita at their side, no doubt one of the leaders from the way they have been served upon by a duo of hovering omnics.

Genji doesn’t know what McCree is watching for. He can see the sweat trail down McCree’s neck, intermingled with the water from his hair. McCree shifts, lowering his head by just a fraction. A strand of hair falls across his forehead, almost like a line of sunlight cutting on his cheek. Genji wants to brush it aside, but McCree’s eyes narrow.

The target lifts their drink, putting the glass rim to their mouth.

McCree fires.

Genji sees the target wrinkle their nose, tongue flicking over their lips with a dissatisfied expression, but the drink only gets set aside as the target wipes their nose with a corner of their towel.

He gives McCree another two pats on the back. McCree exhales, putting his head to his forearm to rub the sweat from his brow. Genji snags the moment to brush back McCree’s hair, enjoying how the gentle pull makes McCree tip his head back.

“Well done,” he says.

McCree rolls on his back, mindful of the small pack around his waist. He unzips it for a celebratory cigar and Genji reaches over his stomach to pull out the lighter for him.

“Whew. I want whatever the guy in Yacht-1 was having,” McCree says, turning his head to the flickering flame in Genji’s hand.

“The whole bottle? Hah, I doubt-” Genji halts in mid-sentence as a text message blinks purple in his HUD. “TaKillYa,” he reads, too baffled to mention the line of heart emojis scrolling down his vision.

“Tequila?” McCree says, thoughtful. “Sure.” His cigar catches on the lighter. He inhales.

Genji glances past the mysterious text, almost missing the streak of fine glitter that plays over McCree’s face for less than half a second. His cybernetics slow it down, shows it like static in the air between them, though the smoke from McCree’s cigar obscures most of it. Someone starts to play music on the beach below, the bass vibrations at the perfect frequency to start buzzing faintly in Genji’s ear.

McCree’s pull from the cigar cuts short with a surprised choking noise. He coughs, rubbing his nose. “Ugh, that tasted funny.”

Genji sits up, alarmed. He fixes his gaze back to the ocean. “McCree.”

Sensing Genji’s urgent tone, McCree rushes his cigar and looks through the scope. “Movement. Yacht-2.”

Genji sees someone climbing on to the yacht deck, though an odd splash in the water below the boat catches his attention. He squints. “Someone’s coming out of the water. She’s… signaling?”

McCree swivels his rifle. He pauses. “She’s blowing us a kiss.”

A purple skull flashes in the middle of Genji’s HUD, but Wintson’s anti-hack program wipes the screen clean before it can start being a threat to his systems. Half of Genji’s network connections shut down as a precaution, though he swears the music coming from the beach is growing louder.

Genji steals the binoculars around McCree’s neck. His faceplate makes it awkward to use, but it is not nearly as awkward as seeing a very attractive women wave at him from the deck of Yacht-1, flower-patterned skirt fluttering in the ocean breeze while her own sniper rifle points at them. She has purple skin. He’s left wondering for a second how they had missed that.

Genji starts sliding down the roof, waiting a moment for McCree to fire off one last round before grabbing him by the swim trunks to drag him to the ground. He hears the return fire crack in the distance, and McCree’s sunhat flies off his head as they land hard on the sand.

McCree mutters something under his breath, scrambling to his feet.

“What?” Genji asks, tilting his head. A saxophone riff blares between his ears. He looks around him, trying to find which beachgoer is the one responsible for the loud noise. “I cannot hear you over the music.”

McCree is busy pulling up his shorts and taking out his revolver, but he spares a brief glance at Genji.

“What music?”

Maybe on any other mission, McCree would have had a huge laugh over Genji’s audio speakers getting hacked to play someone’s beach playlist. He hears the song leaking out from Genji’s helmet, too faint to catch the tune but loud enough to notice the rhythmic beat between the pauses of gunfire.

It doesn’t hinder Genji at all, thank god, but McCree would rather have Genji’s undivided attention while driving a jet ski across the rolling waves. The bounces over the water is suspiciously consistent and faster than what he feels necessary, despite the two of them chasing after two yachts.

He holds on tight, one arm circling around Genji’s shoulders and one leg around Genji’s waist. It’s the only way to stay on—there isn’t a less dignified position unless McCree wants to go flying off into the water. The sound of the jet ski’s motor changes in tone, and McCree knows Genji’s about to make a sharp turn. His hold tightens. He’s not much of a praying man—but he comes real close to asking for a few favors.

His revolver is disguised as a flare gun, a little bulkier than Peacekeeper, but it fire a steady round of bullets towards one of the yachts. He manages take Talon’s sniper off guard, shooting her rifle from her hands. The rifle goes clattering to the deck, sliding to the edge of the boat.

Genji spins the jet ski around, leaving a circular trail of bubbly white froth in their wake. McCree shoots the sniper rifle again, giving it one last push into the ocean. From the corner of his eye, he sees Widowmaker calmly disappear below the deck, sliding her sunglasses back over her head. His parting shot misses her shoulder by a hair.

McCree checks back his gun, bullet cases dropping into the water.

“Where’s the other one?” he asks and taps the side of Genji’s helmet when Genji fails to answer right away. It sounds like the song is at the chorus, and he’s willing to venture a guess that Genji is actually listening to it. He repeats in a louder voice, “Where’s Sombra?”

Genji points to the Yacht-3. The jet ski honks, which McCree hadn’t known it could do.

“I’m getting you on the boat. Prepare to jump,” Genji says.

McCree says, “What? Really?”

“I cannot hear you,” Genji replies, and it sounds like a damned lie. He speeds up towards the third yacht, one arm raising as shuriken fly from his hand.

The shuriken embed themselves into the hull of the yacht, cascading down in perfect footholds. McCree starts to very quickly calculate how far he would need to jump, but Genji speaks up.

“Those are in case I accidentally drop you,” he explains, still speeding.

The swell of the ocean lifts the jet ski higher and higher each time Genji rides over the rolling waves. Suddenly, McCree has a very good idea of what the cyborg is planning, and he doesn’t much like it.

“Genji,” he says, plaintive, “I don’t have my armor on.”

“I will catch you if you cannot land on your two feet.”

McCree already feels his bones and muscles aching against his will. He reloads. His leg slides from Genji’s waist, though it doesn’t stop him from giving Genji’s shin a sullen kick to stop his foot from tapping to the music. Genji leans forward, swerving into a cresting wave, just behind the yacht.

McCree presses his ear to Genji’s helmet. He hears the build up of the song, the cheery saxophone, and he is both impressed and annoyed that Genji has somehow timed the whole thing as they jump—tequila!

They fly into the air together, and McCree loosens his death grip from Genji’s shoulders. He lets himself hop off the jet ski before it thuds heavily on the deck of the yacht. Despite his timing, McCree lands off-balanced, unused to accounting for how the floor rolls beneath his feet. He lurches to the side, stumbling, but shoots at a shimmering blur near Genji.

The shimmering blur flickers, and the first thing that comes into view is Sombra’s grin before the rest of her appears, sitting behind Genji on the lopsided jet ski. Her arm slings comfortably around Genji’s shoulders.

“You like my summer playlist, friend?” she asks, wetsuit squeaking against Genji’s armor. Her snorkel hits Genji in the faceplate, to no real effect.

“It sucks,” Genji replies, trying to lean away without giving up his spot on the jet ski.

“No, I actually think he likes it,” McCree says, helpful, but he is ignored.

The jet ski slides back and forth on the deck as both Sombra and Genji try to knock each other off it. McCree is about to suggest the two of them both get off the damned thing for a better fight, but something glints in the distance from Yacht-1, and then he notices Yacht-1 is approaching them fast. McCree blinks, a part of him relieved that Widowmaker seems to have been unable to find another sniper rifle onboard her yacht, otherwise she would just shoot at them from a safe distance.

McCree aims his gun, trying to make out the slender cylinder in her hands. He pauses.

“Oh shit,” he says, backing away and trying to signal Genji.

And Widowmaker, in all her wedge-heeled glory, aims her harpoon gun.

“Genji, sword,” McCree calls out.

Genji’s reaction is immediate and unquestioning. He pulls his sword from its sheath, turning around to face Widowmaker.

He is just in time for the harpoon to spear him through his right shoulder. McCree hears a pained grunt from Genji and the wet sound of biotic parts tearing with metal. Genji whirls back around to glare at McCree.

“You thought,” Genji begins, incredulous despite his gasping. “You thought I would be able to deflect a harpoon?”

“Erm,” McCree says.

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of Genji’s angry yelling. Widowmaker reels Genji back, yanking him into the ocean like a reverse-caught fish. McCree hears a faint splash, but the cord connecting the harpoon to the gun grows taunt. He raises his gun and shoots at the line, fraying the woven threads. He figures Genji has enough blades on him to cut the rest.

“Alright Sombra, where’s-”

To his surprise, Sombra seems similarly annoyed by the whole ordeal. She ignores McCree walking towards her, yelling over her shoulder to Widowmaker. “Hey, what the hell? Watch it. You could’ve hit me!”

“As if that would be such a terrible loss!” Widowmaker shouts back, still trying to drag Genji out of the ocean.

Sombra revs the jet ski, not going anywhere fast. McCree wonders about her. He gets close enough to wrap his metal hand over one handle of the jet ski.

“Y’know… if you’re on the jet ski, and I’m getting on the jet ski—who’s driving the yacht?” he asks, curious, and points his gun at her.

Sombra rolls her eyes. Her palm glows purple. “I am, stupid. Right into that pier.”

She grabs his hand, fingers tapping over the metal skin quick enough to command a release. McCree’s grip in the jet ski loosens, but he’s too busy looking at the approaching pier to care. He runs across the deck towards the edge, because it’s nearly perfect—he can make a jump for the pier and regroup there, maybe call Winston for backup—

There is a man sitting on a motorcycle on the pier. The man’s got a cloak and a skull helmet and black smoke floating around his body. McCree blinks. What the goddamn shit.

The man on the motorcycle seems to be watching the whole thing, arms propped up on the handlebars in a relaxed slouch. He does a doubletake when he sees McCree.

“What the fuck? Really?” Reaper says, staring at him.

McCree lets the yacht crash into the pier, too stunned to even try figuring out what he had just seen. Sombra rides out the collision, letting the tipped yacht slide both her and the jet ski back into the water before taking off, engine sputtering happily away.

McCree rides out the crash as well, though with less grace than a man of his profession should have done. He flings himself off the yacht, where the water should have been, the last he checked, but his legs jar against something hideously solid. He groans, rolling to his side and feeling as if both his ankles have twisted under him. Some fool had thought to catch him in a motorboat.

A can of beer plunks down in front of him before he can draw his gun. It spews out a yellow beam of light.

McCree peers up at his savior. It’s an older man wearing the douchiest shades he has ever laid eyes on, with an apron that says ‘Raise the Steaks’. For a moment, McCree wonders if he had been the one shot with the harpoon, and if he’s been dying all this time and hallucinating through some kind of hellscape.

“Get up, McCree,” the older man orders, rough voice familiar enough to strike a chord. Soldier 76, without the usual tactical visor, it seems.

McCree stares. For some reason, the lower half of Soldier’s jaw isn’t as distinctive as McCree thought it would be.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and wants to finish with ‘—wearing that?’ But he knows he’s not in any position to criticize anyone, given his current attire.

“I’m the getaway,” Soldier 76 says, turning around to steer the boat away from the pier. They start to speed off. “And you’ve been bugged, son. Nice going.”

There’s a spice shaker strapped to Soldier’s arm. McCree looks at it, dubious. The air around him smells faintly like barbeque.

But before he can say anything else, something thuds against the front of the boat and McCree lurches to the backend. Groaning, he peers at the water, only seeing the leftover wake from the boat.

“Did we hit something?” he asks, very carefully, because he has a single guess on what it might be.

“Yeah, your boyfriend,” Soldier 76 says, confirming all of McCree’s suspicions. He slows the boat down. “Do you see—oh. There he is.”

The end of a harpoon pokes through the upper left side of the boat’s hull, the point just touching Soldier 76’s leg. Soldier 76 steps to the side, unbothered, though a drop of blood starts to well up on his shin.

Genji crawls onboard, using the embedded harpoon as a foothold. There’s an impressive hole in his chest, though the tail end of the harpoon cord still threads through the mechanical part of his body. He wobbles on his feet, pointing to the floor of the boat.

“Is that beer?” he demands after a long pause, sounding a little less coherent than normal, but he’s not exactly wrong either.

McCree tugs Genji to the ground, near the glowing beer can, which he finally can assume is a biotic emitter in disguise. He picks up the can and shoves it into Genji’s unresisting hands.

Genji looks down at it. McCree can picture him squinting at the label.

“...Did I lose a lot of blood?” Genji asks, unsure.

“Naw. Just a harpoon through your chest, sweet thing,” McCree reassures as Soldier 76 throws him another biotic emitter. It fizzes out foam when McCree pulls the tab.

“That’s actually real beer,” Soldier 76 says.

McCree snatches it back from the ground and takes a fortifying gulp. It’s cheap shit, but it doesn’t stop Genji from reaching over to grab McCree’s wrist and tip the can his way. He takes a smaller sip—or what McCree assumes would be a smaller sip, if it hadn’t dribbled down the front of his faceplate.

“It’s cheap shit,” Genji confirms, leaning heavily against McCree’s aching shoulder.

“Would you rather have tequila?” McCree asks.

Genji punches him.