#Navy blue leather slippers

[soleforsoul]

[tadpolesonalgae]

Sugar Daddy Azriel - drabble?

a/n: so, I have one or two requests in my inbox relating to this sort of dynamic--one I've never written before--so we're doing a test run with Azzie (since obviously they're all feysand-related)

Also I haven’t proofread this so apologies

warnings: uhhh dom/sub dynamics, sugar baby/sugar daddy-ish vibes, no use of Daddy but occasional use of Sir, oral (m receiving), I think we're getting bit of soft Dom Az in this, reader is a reader

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You jolt in surprise when you find him sat at the edge of your large bed, one he'd had made especially to accommodate him and his wingspan. "Evening, pretty lady," Azriel drawls, a playful smirk curving his mouth as hazel eyes trail your form.

You're wrapped in a red, blue, white, and dark green, horizontally-striped jumper that comes down to the tops of your thighs. It's baggy and has a wide neckline, showing off the line of your collar bones as it sits at the edge of your shoulders. Beneath are a pair of soft, navy shorts that only peek out from the hem of the jumper when you lift your arms a significant height, feet clad in thick socks that rise halfway up your calves, full and fluffy, and partially concealed by the chunky dark-blue slippers he'd bought you last solecist.

"Azriel?" You question, smiling despite knowing how odd it is that this is your kind of relationship - with him just appearing at intervals inside your home. Often with Things in tow. "What are you doing here?" You already know what he's doing here, or can at least guess from the black paper bag leaning against his side, printed with that distinctive white and gold monogram on the parchment.

Sure enough his hazel eyes glint, inclining his chin. "I think you know what."

"Mhmm? You got me something?"

"Maybe. Come closer. You can find out."

Your smile widens with fondness as you make your way across the rug you'd had imported from the continent, pausing between his long legs, a shiver of pleasure purring up your spine as he lays his broad palms around your waist, squeezing lightly with his thumbs as they stroke your sides. "Want to take a look, pretty thing?"

"Hmm? No viewing fee?"

"I'm feeling generous."

"Mhmm. Not at all keeping the mischief for later, no sir." He huffs a laugh, before nodding to the bag. "Just take a look."

Inquisitively you slide your fingers between the two trifolds, spreading them to peer inside. Your brows narrow, spotting the thick width of a book, but when you reach to pull it out a cool shadows slinks around your wrist, and he tuts. "I don't think I said you could touch, did I?" A smile curves your mouth, eyes bright and twinkling as you retract from the bag, turning your attention rightfully to him. "And what do I have to do to get my hands on it, sir?"

He scoffs. "You've done this more than a dozen times for me. You know what to do."

"But I want you to tell me," you murmur, lips still curved as heat simmers between your thighs. Azriel's mouth quirks to reflect your pleased expression, hand sliding upward. "Yeah? You want me to give you some orders to follow?" His thick fingers hold your throat carefully, flexing once so you can feel as he lays each digit to your skin. "On your knees, pretty thing."

"There's the Dom I know and love," you whisper against his mouth, before settling into position between his legs. Azriel chuckles softly, "you want a Dom tonight? Have you been good?"

"Perfect," you murmur, fingers already greedily untying the laces of his leathers. "I've been the best."

"The best?"

"Mhmm."

"Have you touched yourself?" You shake your head, halting once you've got his laces out of the way, waiting for the instructions. "Have you wanted to?" You nod, enjoying the heat of arousal that flushes your skin. Azriel raises a brow, his fingers stroking over your hair before lightly taking a section in his fist. "What were you doing when thinking about it?"

"Reading..."

He smirks. "Of course you were."

Arousal intensifies, but you continue to wait patiently, adhering to the unspoken rules. Azriel parts his thighs, lightly tugging on your hair to tilt your face upward. "Tell me why you wanted to touch yourself, pretty thing." You flush, teeth dragging over your lower lip before answering. "There was a scene, sir..." Azriel quirks a brow, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lovely mouth. "A scene?" You nod your head, glancing briefly between his legs, un-wanting and unwilling to hide your hunger. "Eyes up here," he warns, bringing your gaze to his, "what scene?"

"I wanted to watch you read it," you admit, "to share it with you..."

"How sweet of you," he drawls.

"I thought you might like the ropes..."

Azriel chuckles, the deep noise licking between your thighs that you squeeze together. "My smart little reader's been nosing at some dirty things, hasn't she?"

"You'll like them, too," you argue playfully.

"Oh, filthy then."

You flush deeply, silently begging for him to give you the okay. His mouth curves and stark relief floods your system. "Open." He orders, and your lips part on command. His answering smirk would have had your underwear dropping to the floor had you been standing. "Be good," he goads, shadows pulling himself free as he carefully wraps your hair around his fist--for guidance.

You tighten around nothing as he pulls you forward, tapping his leaking tip against your lower lip teasingly, smearing the precum that had gathered there in a glossy mess, liking how it gleams on your mouth before slowly feeding you his cock. Moans are already aching to spill from your throat, but you have the feeling even if you allowed yourself to his cock would muffle them significantly. He's so big.

"There you go. Good girl," he praises, dragging you back by your hair, groaning when your tongue flicks out to deliver a small lick to a spot just at the underside oh his head. "Wicked girl," he amends, the groan hungry and guttural and not helping the gathering wetness in your underwear.

Azriel's mouth curves when he pushes you back down to his base, gently guiding your movements: up...and down...up...and down. "So filthy beneath that pretty exterior, aren't you?" He huffs a laugh that tails into a groan when you do something hot with your tongue. "Fuck. Not a single soul would look at my lovely little reader and think she'd be like this. So sweet on your outside, aren't you?"

Sweet on the inside, too, your eyes say when you suckle his tip, lapping up the leaking precum eagerly. Azriel grits his teeth, his breathing deepening and a flush colouring his cheeks...one that makes you want give him more. He twitches in your mouth, and you take him down your throat eagerly, an arm curving beneath his thigh to place your hand on his hip, wanting to touch more of him.

His wings shift on the bed, flaring wide then tucking in tight, his grip tightening in your hair as he bucks his hips, knowing you can take it. Scarred fingers graze your scalp, thumb stroking across your hair encouragingly, sensing the peak isn't far off now. "Gods, so sweet and filthy. And mine." He laughs when you whimper onto the thick length of his cock. "Yeah? You're all mine, aren't you? My lovely, sweet, thing."

You practically purr when he releases in your mouth, tongue swirling and mixing with his cum, a thrum of biological satisfaction shimmering through your body with sheer pleasure. He pulls tentatively at your hair, asking you to pull away, and you happily obey, keeping your mouth open and sliding your eyes shut as he finishes on your face. A growl rumbles from the back of his throat, panting with flushed skin as he looks down at you, thumb swiping at some of the milky liquid, chuckling when you lift from the ground to take it into your mouth, tongue eagerly licking over the pad.

He pulls you to straddle his lap, and you shiver as he kisses your face, cleaning you up of the mess he's made, occasionally gathering more on his fingers and letting you feed from it.

"Was I good, Azzie?" You murmur, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders--shoulders you've been thrown over more than a few times--curving your spine so your breasts push into his chest, soft and full. "So good, pretty thing," he whispers, lips curving as he plies the hem of your striped jumper down one side of your arm so he can lick and suck marks into you, trailing his way up to a space below your jaw, beneath your ear. "I think you earned yourself something extra."

"Something extra...?" His hand slides from your waist to your ass, pulling away lightly to glance down at your bare thighs, "are you even wearing shorts?"

"They've ridden up my legs," you argue, pulling the hem of your jumper higher to show the navy cloth. "I wouldn't have minded..." he drawls, hazel eyes flicking to yours as his hand slides beneath their waistband, squeezing your ass appreciatively, making you squeal and curve into him, laughing. "You're the filthy one, Az. Not me."

"Mhmm? So you weren't reading those books before you fell in with me?"

"I was..." you reply primly. Your thighs part wider, able to feel him against your centre. "I couldn't let you do all the corrupting."

"Uh-huh. Well, maybe what's in the bag will help with that."

"Can I touch now?" You smirk, clearly taunting him. Azriel grins, his eyes glinting. "Keep up with that attitude," he goads. "I'm sure it will land you in a good place."

You roll your hips to his. "Underneath you?"

"Keep it up and you'll find out." He lands a hard spank to your ass, smirking when you gasp, before nodding to the bag. "Take a look, princess."

You flush at the pet name, pulling the bag between you and pulling free the book. Your eyes nearly shoot out of your head, cheeks ablaze as you scan the bespoke design--the gold-threaded title catching your attention almost immediately. It's the dirtiest (and favourite) book you've ever read. You splutter, staring at him. "Wh- How?"

"Spymaster perks."

"That doesn't answer anything!" He smirks when you shoot him a suspicious glance. "Alright," he relents, "Helion has particular connections."

You shake your head. "That still doesn't answer anything."

Azriel smiles faintly. "Do you like it, though?"

That certainly gets you grinning, holding the thick book in your hands, tilting it back and forth so the thread catches in the light, glinting decadently. "Of course I like it," you mumble, flipping the book to trail your fingers admiringly down the ridges of the spine. "I love it." You glance up, meeting softened hazel eyes. "That's why you got it though, isn't it."

"Maybe I like seeing you contented."

"Maybe I like seeing you coming."

Azriel chokes on a laugh, large palm sliding beneath your jumper to stroke across the bare expanse of your back, hand shifting so his fingers wrap around your ribs, grazing the underside of your breast. "Maybe the feeling's mutual," he murmurs over your lips, and you feel yourself beginning to melt as his mouth slants over your own, his taste still prominent in both of you.

When he pulls away, he pushes hair from your cheek that had fallen from its place behind your ear. Your heart skips, and then you're opening the book, swiftly scanning the pages until you find the right passage. "As a thank you from me, and a reward from you..." You flip the book around, pointing to the section. "Can we try this, next?"

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff @feerique @ratgirl2020

[mrs-nanami]

Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

[csuitebitches]

Guide to Building a Classic Wardrobe

I was asked a long time ago by an anon for a guide to build a wardrobe. This style caters to someone mature, slightly conservative, NOT fashionnova-esque, something that will last a long time in all fashion seasons, provided you look after your items well. I live in a relatively hot climate and the coldest temperature I’ve experienced when living in a place is like 10 degree Celsius, so I will admit that I am not very well versed with living in cold climates for a prolonged period of time (I don’t think a 2 week trip to Switzerland in the summer counts as “cold”).

I have purposely built with keeping neutrals in mind. I’ve learned that its best to first build a neutral coloured wardrobe in mind, then start adding colour to it. You might find this wardrobe boring, but if you work in a corporate environment/ somewhere where you can’t showcase too much colour or creativity/ if you come from a relatively conservative/ high profile-but-not-entertainment /modest culture, you’ll find this useful.

ALWAYS keep an eye on the material of the item you are buying. If you have to buy a sweater and you live in a cold climate, buy cashmere. Yes, it will be expensive, but it will keep you warm and last longer. If you live in a hot climate, invest in tops and dresses made out of pure cotton. Material plays a huge role in the climate you live in.

I do not endorse fast fashion or over-consumerism but I understand that it is affordable. I would therefore recommend you to buy things carefully and with consideration, not just for the sake of the environment but for your wallet. It’s better to buy 1 quality item than 10 horribly made, short-lasting items.

Never mix more than 3 colours in your outfit at a time. That’s something my father taught me, and I recommend you stick to it, especially if you’re new to building a serious wardrobe.

Lastly, do not be enthralled by what influencers buy or wear. I can guarantee you that the clothes they wear on Instagram aren’t even theirs half the time. Don’t fall into the trap of micro trends.

(Pictures for this post have been sourced from Pinterest).

Underwear

Nude bra + thong/ undie

Black bra + thong/ undie

White bra + thong/ undie

Strapless bra (black)

Strapless bra (nude)

2 sexy bra sets (optional, I have these in red, pink, blue)

Nipple pads

Tops

White silk cami

Black silk cami

White plain tee

Black plain tee

White tank

Black tank

Beige tank (or whatever suits your complexion - brown/ nude)

White shirt

Black shirt (satin/ silk)

Blue shirt

Pants

Navy blue trousers

Wine/ red high waisted trousers

White trousers

Beige trousers

Black trousers

Straight leg jeans (blue)

Another pair of jeans (not ripped, blue)

White jeans, straight leg/ mom cut

Skirts

White

Black

Red

Beige (a checked print, like Burberry)

2 maxi skirts

1 pencil skirt in black (work appropriate)

Shorts

Denim (not distressed)

Tailored white shorts

Tailored blue shorts

Tailored black shorts

Formal attire

1 maxi dress - red/ black/ a neutral colour

White/ black vest and trouser set

Everyday dresses

Knit dress in black/ cream/ brown (long)

2 summer dresses, short

White peasant dress

Outer wear

Leather jacket in black/ brown

1 cardigan in black/ white

A shawl/ silk scarf

Denim jacket

Long trench coat in camel/ brown/ beige

Blazer in white/ navy blue/ black

Sweater in black/ white/ red

Shoes

Black/ white/ brown leather boots

White/ silver heels

Black heels

Gold heels

Mules in black

Home slippers

Running shoes

White sneakers

Accessories

1 brown/ black leather bag

1 tote bag

1 clutch for parties

Hair clips

Tights/ leggings - sheer and opaque in black

Socks

Jewellery

Diamond studs

Everyday pendant

2-3 simple bracelets/ bangles in silver/ gold

Signet rings in gold

Chunky hoops

Devices

Hair straightener

Hairdryer/ Blow brush (i prefer the blow dry brush)

30 mm curling wand (for long, big curls)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The 1870 Bingham Farmstead in Saline County, Missouri is a gorgeous piece of history. The Folk Victorian is currently a Bed & Breakfast, so cheery, with 5bds, 3ba, and it's for sale for $945K.

The entrance hall is just a crisp, clean, unadorned white.

It doesn't say that the furniture comes with it, and they have such lovely antiques.

Vintage leather chairs and sofa. Such a beautiful set.

It's so pretty and uncluttered, unlike some historic homes are. Love the contrasts of the black wainscoting, white molding, and bright blue & lime wallpaper.

The kitchen is amazing. Instead of cabinets, they use a large art print cabinet and the vintage sink cabinet is covered in fabric.

Because it's a B&B it has a huge commercial stove and matching hood in navy blue.

The navy blue & red fabric on the sink pull the look together. Notice that the current owner bakes on that gorgeous wood cabinet.

Brand new modern subway tile shower.

Cozy area before the fire in the family room off the kitchen.

This cute room has nothing but a small writing desk in front of an old fireplace that's been bricked up.

Very spacious bedroom has a real antique bed with a rope mattress in front of the fireplace. You can't get more authentic than that.

This home is like a museum with authentic Victorian living, but it has a twist- bright, modern colors, so it doesn't have the dark, depressing look that some older homes have.

What a great en-suite. Look at that little slipper tub. I'm so impressed with this home.

The upstairs hall is plain and simple.

This lovely bedroom has it's own sink.

The land is a huge 10 acres and includes a pond.

Plus this scenic red barn.

But, there's also a newer metal barn, too.

It could just as easily be a single home again.

[franklyshipping]

Tough Tootsies ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

Here we have another fabulous anon prompt featuring our favourite gameshow host, but this time Yancy is by his side! LET'S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @bimlee-trimmer and @bim-trimler

Yancy was a tough guy, a cool guy. He was the sort of guy who, thanks to his days behind bars, had learned how to keep a straight face when things got nerve-wracking or intimidating. However, if you looked in his eyes long enough, you’d notice the flicker of nerves as he stood in the reception of the white-marble spa that Bim had brought him to. The luxury spa experience was something Bim had actually bought Yancy for Christmas, attempting to encourage him to relax and see the value of “me time” – but in true busy Yancy fashion he hadn’t found time to use it in-between writing, choreographing and practising new songs and music video shoots for his first album of music (the working title was Jailbreak and all the egos, Bim especially, thought it was iconic). So here Yancy was, having been persuaded thanks to Bim offering his company, and soon they were all signed in and heading to get to their first stop: free goodies.

‘So uh, what’s exactly gonna be done to us?’

‘Oh we’re getting the best treatments!’

Bim replied, grinning as the pair wandered through and started getting changed into their fancy, thick robes and slippers – which they got to keep no less! Bim’s attire was lilac whilst Yancy’s were navy, and Yancy smiled as he realised Bim must have called ahead to tell them his favourite colour.

‘First up is a hot stone massage, that’s the thing that’ll settle you into the spa day mood. Then we’ll have mud face masks, face, neck and scalp massages, and finish off with a full pedicure! You’re going to want a spa break every weekend after today, trust me!’

Bim nudged him with a wink and Yancy snorted, shaking his head fondly as they headed into the first room. Yancy was nervous about the day, mainly with regards to having strangers getting up close and personal with him. If Bim weren’t here with him he likely wouldn’t have had the confidence to give it a try… but as the treatments came by, it was far less invasive than Yancy was expecting. Everyone was so relaxed and chatty, always checking in on his comfort, telling him what they were going to do before he felt any touch – and of course Bim knew all the personnel and kept awkward silences at bay with gossip and banter.

Yancy found himself especially enjoying the gossip, especially when it came to his wild experiences from prison, which all the staff were excited to hear rather than unnerved! Yancy got so relaxed at one point that he fell right asleep during the scalp massage, having a deep twenty minute power nap which somehow refreshed him like a full night’s sleep – soon Yancy wasn’t just comfortable, he was enjoying every second of the experience. Also needless to say, he felt tensions unwinding in him that he hadn’t realised he had!

Eventually they got settled into comfy leather seats ready for the full pedicure treatment, and naturally Bim had even convinced him to pick a nail colour – Yancy went for a matte navy blue, whilst Bim chose a metallic violet. Yancy was all set and ready to relax again, even closing his eyes in anticipation… meaning he missed the cheeky grins Bim shared with the technicians. There was mischief afoot, no pun intended. In Bim’s view Yancy had been overworking himself and not only deserved relaxation, but a chance to let loose… to laugh. And the previous treatments had put him beautifully off guard.

Yancy sighed as he felt his feet gently get washed in warm water and carefully patted dry, and he could feel another nap coming on… until he felt the warm pumice stone. His foot was held still as the pumice stone’s fine grained surface rubbed against the ball of his foot. It wasn’t uncomfortable, certainly not painful… but it tickled like hell. Yancy’s breath hitched as his gripped his arm rests, glancing to Bim beside him. Bim however was perfectly relaxed, and took another sip of his champagne as he sighed.

‘So, is it safe to say I’ve converted you to the spa lifestyle Yance?’

Yancy gaped for a moment, feeling a giggle building in his chest. He held it in, clearing his throat as he smiled at his friend – he couldn’t burst into giggles here, it would be the most embarrassing thing ever! He took a deep breath, resolving not to react and make a scene.

‘Mhm oh yeheah, yeah for sure.’

‘I mean, I get why you were anxious of course, it’s perfectly understandable to not want strangers touching you all over the place. But everyone here honestly takes the word ‘professional’ and goes above and beyond don’t you think?’

‘O-Oh mhm, mhm yep.’

Yancy replied, gritting his teeth as he felt the rubbing go on and on and on. Somehow it was worse than feathers or nails, even worse than the pointiest pen! It was like his deepest ticklish nerves weren’t safe, each rub sending jolts and tingles that just made him want to squeal and kick his feet! But he couldn’t, and felt his face go a bit pink from his efforts as his technician smiled at Bim’s compliments.

‘You’re too kind Mr Trimmer.’

The pumice stone left his foot and Yancy let out a quiet breath of relief, until he felt it being applied to his other foot. He could feel his toes twitching as he casually pressed his knuckles to his mouth, his eyes looking at anything else but his feet. How the hell could something tickle this much, and how was Bim so chill?! He was just as ticklish as Yancy, or at least that’s what Yancy had always thought. It was the public factor that made this so torturous. Being tickled at home wasn’t half as embarrassing as this… oh God if he laughed, would he get kicked out?!

Then, he almost did. He let out a sudden squeak and shuddered when he felt the pumice stone move to his heel. He missed the amused look between Bim and the technician, and the technician put on a concerned look.

‘Oh I’m sorry, is that spot tender?’

Yancy cleared his throat, smiling softly as he straightened in his seat. He knew he was bright pink.

‘Ah, no I uh, just got a chill.’

Bim hid a snicker behind his champagne glass as the technician smiled, keeping her composure as she replied.

‘Oh, your seat has a heating feature if you’d like to use it! If you lift up the left arm rest you’ll find all the buttons.’

She then put the pumice stone aside and Yancy smiled gratefully, thinking he was in the clear. He decided he deserved to feel toasty after all that, and snorted when Bim gasped dramatically next to him as he opened his own arm rest.

‘Oh my GOD I can’t believe I forgot about that!’

Yancy rolled his eyes fondly as Bim excitedly explored all the buttons, including the reclining and massage functions. Yancy could feel the tingles in his feet fading into relaxation, so much so he got ready to tease Bim for getting so excited. But then he felt the oil. His breath hitched as he felt it trickle over his feet and toes, filling the space with a soft, floral scent, and his jaw clenched as he felt it being massaged into his skin. Oh. God.

‘U-Uh… whahat–ah, what’s the oil f-for?’

‘Oh it’s to help revitalise your skin, and it’ll stop your feet drying out. The scent is lavender, is that alright?’

‘Yehep, mhm yep, yep ahall good…’

Yancy nodded, and now had no choice but to mask his little giggles with light coughs and clearing his throat. This did not escape the technicians or Bim’s notice, but they naturally pretended otherwise to keep the game going. Bim even sighed lightly with a grin.

‘Ahh, the lavender one is my favourite, it’s just so relaxing isn’t it Yance?’

Yancy nodded, and this time couldn’t keep his eyes off the massage as fingers moved up from his arches, getting closer and closer to his toes. He tried to reason that he could take it, that the massage wasn’t as bad as the pumice stone… but when those slick fingertips started rubbing his toes he held his breath. But in the end, it was no use. It was a tweak to his pinky toe after a few mere seconds that made him explode into his long awaited laughter.

‘SHIHIT!’

To Yancy’s utter horror he heard the technician giggle as Bim gasped, his grin turning devious as he clapped his hands together.

‘Aww there’s the ticklish guy I know! I gotta say you held out longer than I thought you would!’

Yancy’s eyes went wide with confusion… and then the realisation hit him. It was a set up. A goddamn tickly set up! Before he could even think to get up, Bim leaned over and pinned him snugly against his seat, capturing his arms as he chuckled at him. What’s more… the massage didn’t stop.

‘WHAHAHAT THE HEHECK?!’

He kept laughing at varying pitches as the pads of his toes were gently rubbed, but occasionally he would feel the flutter of nail tips right under his toes too – that got him squealing, despite his best efforts, complete with voice cracks too. His cheeks were crimson with embarrassment as he squirmed about. How could he not have seen this coming? Bim was notoriously a mischievous little shit, he should have known there was something going on!

‘Aww look at those red cheeks, is someone flustered?’

Yancy snorted, and failed in his attempt to glare at Bim as he kept trying to wriggle free. His toes were constantly scrunching as he laughed and laughed and laughed, before ending up hiding his face against Bim’s shoulder in defeat.

‘YOHOHOU’RE AHA JAHAHACKASS!’

Bim gasped in mock offense, and tickled under his chin lightly as he retorted.

‘Am not! I just wanted to see a smile on that handsome face! Don’t you feel lighter and more relaxed?’

‘NAHAHAT RIHIHIGHT NOHOHOW!’

Bim and the technician’s laughed at his exclamation as Yancy kept his face hidden, his embarrassment hitting its peak… because admittedly the tickles were wonderful. Different tickles could be wonderful in different ways, and for Yancy slow, tender tickling at his worst spot like this was a truly heavenly sort of hell. He felt so warm and giddy and happy inside as the minutes went by, each toes given lashings of attention with rubs and flutters which seemed unending! And naturally Bim couldn’t help but keep on teasing him.

‘Listen to that laugh! You look like you’re having lots of fun, I think we should make this a regular appointment for your ticklish toes.’

Yancy’s blush crept up to his ears, and he let out a loud yelp when he felt the tickles stray in-between his poor sensitive toes. He exploded with babbles as his whole body jolted, and he reached his limit.

‘AHH–ALRIGHT ALRIHIHIGHT S-STAHAHAHAP!’

Bim giggled fondly, and the technician immediately stopped as she and her colleague giggled with huge grins on their faces, and even in his breathless state Yancy could see they weren’t making fun of him; their looks were just as fond as Bim’s. He panted softly as they moved away to prepare the next treatment, and his eyes fluttered shut as he stayed resting against Bim’s shoulder. Bim rubbed his back lightly, grinning.

‘You good?’

Yancy giggled lightly, nodding as he took a few deep breaths.

‘Y-Yeheah…’

‘You’re not mad at me are you?’

Yancy snorted, shaking his head as he grinned bashfully and gave him a tired nudge.

‘Nah… I uh… I actually do feel pretty good. Been hard to find time to chill out recently, y’know…’

Bim smiled at him with understanding. Yancy had been busy, working so so hard, putting pressure on himself. It was why he’d come up with this tickly relaxation scheme in the first place, just to give him a chance to let it all go for a bit. He squeezed Yancy’s shoulder softly.

‘I know, what’s why I knew I had to bring you.’

Yancy felt warmth in his chest at the gesture, then narrowed his eyes and laughed at how smug Bim’s grin was. He poked him in the ribs as he grumbled.

‘Sneaky asshole.’

Bim chuckled, and reclined back in his seat with a wink, picking up his champagne once more.

‘Love you too jailbird. So, are you ready for a little more?’

Yancy giggled softly, and nodded bashfully as the technicians returned. When the massaging resumed, Yancy didn’t hold back his delighted giggles this time, and felt the relaxation and comfort swell through him like a warm wave. Sometimes you don’t know you need something until someone else shows you that you need it, and though it’s sometimes hard to think so, everyone deserves the relaxation and laughter the world has to offer.

WOOO I KNOW THIS ONE IS LONG-AWAITED SO I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT, LEMME KNOW IF YA DO! LOVE YOUS!!

[triskhellion]

Intarsia

Rated: Explicit (12.2k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Peter Hale

Tags: POV Derek, POV Isaac, Alpha Derek, Emissary in Training Stiles, Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Derek/Bottom Stiles, Light Bondage, Hickeys, Consensual Somnophilia, Idiots in Love, Cooking, Pack Shenanigans

Summary: Derek asks Isaac to make him a scarf for Stiles for reasons. The following weekend the pack is asked to check out potential supernatural activity at a cabin near Klamath Falls, Oregon. The others are unavailable, so it’s just the two of them. Derek brings along the scarf and ends up giving Stiles much more.

Artwork by Goss!

A playlist of my favorite songs by The National because Isaac's listening to them and Derek is broody and they're perfect broody fall music. (In no particular order.)

For WIP Big Bang 2023. (One of the first fics I actually started writing, begun about a year ago.)

Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon prompts: Apple, Between, Falling Leaves, Flame, Knot, Song & Travel

Intarsia — a knitting technique used to create patterns with multiple colors. As with the woodworking technique of the same name, fields of different colors and materials appear to be inlaid in one another, fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Isaac

Isaac was listening to The National on vinyl and idly knitting the second of a pair of chocolate brown, chunky slipper socks for Scott’s upcoming birthday when Derek returned to their new loft apartment, trudging around downstairs. He straightened up on the navy loveseat in the second floor lounge area (or “cozy zone” as Stiles liked to call it) and rolled his eyes as the Alpha’s angst vibes preceded him. 

“Hey, Derek” he said to the ascending werewolf, finishing his row before looking up. The older man nodded and his expression lightened from straight up scowling to mere resting bitch face. 

“Isaac.” 

He glanced out the window at the purpling sky then turned back to his project, pausing a couple minutes later when Derek didn’t move from where he leaned against the railing across from him. Isaac could feel him watching and heard the sound of his mouth opening and then closing again several times as Matt Berninger’s melancholy baritone crooned.

I wanna hurry home to you, put on a slow, dumb show show for you and crack you up. So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain, God I’m very, very frightened I’ll overdo it.

Another minute passed and he rolled his eyes again, taking a deep breath before meeting the waiting sheepish gaze, which then quickly slid away. 

“Yeeeesss?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow. 

“You make…” Derek began, then started over. “Could you make a scarf for me? Please.” 

“For you?” Isaac asked incredulously. He’d never seen Leather-Jacket Jeans McHenley in a scarf. 

“It’s for someone else. To give to. From me,” Derek mumbled haltingly. “Whatever you need…use the pack account.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning at the flustered Alpha. “Any particular pattern or style? Type of yarn? What color?" There was a harsh exhale of frustration.

“I don’t know, a regular scarf.” Derek threw up his hands and then waved them around making snake like motions. “Kind of…deep red with like, some goldy-brown parts? A warm one.” 

“Hmm,” he murmured, going through options in his head for several moments. “I’m thinking merino wool…cable knit…intarsia.” Blank stare. “Kind of a maroon with dark amber, yeah?” A frown and a single shoulder shrug. ”Riiight,” he drawled, smirking. “You know, like a certain hyperactive human’s favorite hoodie…” He tapped his finger against his chin like he was just now figuring out a mystery. “And perhaps the color of said human’s eyes in the light?” 

Derek sputtered and shoved off from his perch with a glare, seeming as if to deny it before snapping his jaw shut with a growl instead and abruptly turning to walk towards his bedroom. Isaac laughed and called after the retreating wolf. 

“I should have it done before the end of the week. I have to go to the craft store to get that special amber yarn.” The door slammed shut and he heard muffled grumbling about “goddamn chuckling betas” and how “back in the day Alphas were shown respect.” He leaned over and laughed even harder. 

Derek

Derek walked out of his building practically buzzing and started running once he crossed the parking lot and made it past the first trees. It was a Monday night, the one before the full moon, and he was feeling antsy. Even more so than was usual. He figured another patrol of the territory would calm him down and satisfy his wolf’s extra protective instincts, not to mention get him away from his so very amused and impertinent beta. And if he happened by the Stilinski residence at some point, well it was on the way, okay? 

Derek sighed. He asked Isaac to make the scarf yesterday after he and Stiles had gone searching that afternoon for a special type of lichen that Deaton wanted for some ritual or potion or whatever. He wasn’t really listening to the druid and just tagged along when he ran into Stiles while doing errands near the vet clinic. The perpetually excitable teen had been wearing a backpack and mentioned that he’d be going into the Preserve for “herbs and shit” after meeting with their sort-of-emissary and Derek hadn’t wanted him to go alone. Things had been quiet on the Creatures Eating Faces & Causing Havoc front for a while, but you never know. 

It had taken them a few hours to collect enough of the sporadically growing, pale green vegetation to fill the container they’d been given and between the dampness of the forest and working up a sweat climbing over logs or partway up trees it had gotten pretty chilly for the human, especially once the sun started to set on the already overcast autumn day. Stiles had had his hands in his pockets and the hood of his Beacon Hills Community College sweatshirt up on the way back, but had still shivered when the wind blew through it and across the exposed skin of his neck. 

That lithe, fair column with its smattering of chocolate dots, so perfect for marking. Derek groaned at the thought of it. So yes, Stiles needed a scarf. Both to keep him warm and to hide his dangerously alluring attributes. The only one not already covered in layers of baggy denim, over sized graphic tees and corresponding flannel. 

(Well, except for his mouth, but it’s not like people went around in face masks all the time, haha. Or muzzles and the like in public. No those were for private activities, or so he’d seen on the internet. And could Stiles even function without putting pens and spoons and straws and toothpicks and pops of the lolli, freezer, and cake variety (courtesy of Lydia) between his lips on a regular basis? Or his own fingers? He even had the nerve to make eating chicken wings look good.)

But necks! He could do something about that. And then maybe he’d stop thinking about his packmate this way quite so often, at least until it warmed again. Definitely no other pervy wolves or similarly bestial shifters should catch a glimpse if it could be helped. He’s ours his wolf snarled and he couldn’t help agreeing before his all those negative thoughts and emotions kicked back in. No, he’s not. I can’t…I shouldn’t…

Derek ran through the forest until his muscles ached and then walked through the city in the wee hours, stopping for a few minutes by a particular house in the west part of town. One with a police cruiser and a beat up blue Jeep in the driveway. He could hear the steady heartbeats and slow breathing of two slumbering humans and could faintly smell the toasty man-soap-sweat scent of his a blanket-wrapped Stiles through the open left side window. He inhaled a few big lung fulls worth, making an unconscious rumbling sound, and then continued on toward home content for the moment.

A few days later he was brooding contemplating the Stiles situation again while making cheesy eggs, bacon, red skillet potatoes, and toast for a late breakfast. Isaac kept giving him these looks like there was something gross on his face (there wasn’t, he checked) before snatching up his portion of the meal, minus the toast, as soon as the platter hit the table. The younger man divided it between the two large flour tortillas he’d had waiting in front of him, added salsa verde, hot sauce, and sour cream, rolled them into burritos, and wrapped one in foil before shoving it into his messenger bag. He then grabbed a thermos of coffee, wedged it into his left elbow as he started eating the other burrito gripped in the same hand, and hurriedly went out the door, shaking his head and mumbling something that sounded like “enough“ and “idiots.”

Huh. Derek wasn’t sure what that was about, but hoped his beta got through his Thursday classes okay. Maybe Isaac had to work on that group project he’d been complaining about, the one that his least favorite professor assigned him with that girl who argued about everything and that guy that didn’t do any of the reading. Oh, college, he commiserated, glad that he’d never have to put up with that particular aggravation again.

He cleaned up and then spent a few hours wrapping up the Spanish to English history textbook translation he’d been working on for a client over the last several weeks. When he was done he got up, drank some water, and began stretching for his daily calisthenics. He was just about switch to the beginner’s tai chi he’d been learning online recently (a suggestion from the visiting weredingo therapist he saw for a while last year and still Skyped with occasionally from Australia) when his phone chimed. It was a text from Isaac. 

Apparently, some human, but in-the-know acquaintance of his near Klamath Falls, OR was freaked out about quote unquote “potentially supernatural activity” around their family’s vacation spot/rental property and wanted to know if the Beacon Hills Pack could check it out this weekend. 

<What kind of phenomena are they experiencing?> he asked, praying it wasn’t some real sketchy shit like artfully arranged piles of mutilated small animals, screaming haunted trees or arcane symbols drawn in blood and bile all over the place. If he ever had to deal with another hag, hostile non-corporeal entity or darach again it would be too soon.

<Clothing, trinkets, and plants from both inside and outside the cabin have gone missing.> Issac replied. <Strange noises day and night and several objects made of stones, mud, brambles, feathers, pine cones and owl pellets have also been found along the trail to the lake. The feeling of being watched and the reoccurring smell of electricity and honey. Sounds like some kind of fae creature to me.>

Derek concurred. Likely a troupe of pixies, though a mischievous witch or other magic-user wouldn’t be out of the question. Whatever or whoever it was seemed annoying, but pretty harmless. He had nothing better to do and it was an opportunity to keep his tracking skills sharp, so he agreed to investigate and shoo away the troublemaker. 

The pack in residence was currently just him, Isaac, Stiles, Malia, and Peter. Technically. His crafty uncle remained mostly an enigma, holed up in some no doubt fancy penthouse somewhere and scheming who knows what. He generally saw the elder Hale every 3 weeks or so when he stopped by the loft to irritate Derek, feed him takeout, and “borrow” something from his library before disappearing into the ether again. 

The others were away at college (Lydia and Jackson,) living in France (though Chris and Allison were really more pack-adjacent,) staying with relatives out of state (Erica and Boyd were in Ohio looking after the latter’s grandmother post hip replacement surgery and probably wouldn’t be back until after Christmas,) or “talking a break from all this mythical bullshit” (Scott, Co-Alpha Emeritus, snort, probably lost somewhere in Prague on his pre-vet school backpacking trip which was totally, definitely, he absolutely swore not going to take him through France. Uh-huh.) 

The cabin was only around 3 hours away, but driving there and back and having time to properly assess, find, and confront the mischievous entity could end up calling for more than a day trip. Isaac had 3 classes on Fridays and shifts at the movie theater afterward and all day Saturday so he was out. 

Derek messaged the rest of the pack in town to see if anyone else was available. Peter was surprisingly the first to answer, but it was a crying laughing emoji followed by a succinct “No.” Stiles replied between his two Thursday classes with a “You son of a bitch, I’m in” gif, multiple exclamation points, and a thumbs up. Derek rolled his eyes and grinned. 

Malia didn’t respond at all. It was equally likely that she was either coyoted-out or forgot about the existence of her phone and left it to die in her couch cushions again. So Stiles and him it was then. Perfect. The eager sophomore had only one late morning class on Fridays so they could leave by 2:00pm tomorrow after grabbing their bags. 

<Pack your shit tonight> he texted Stiles, knowing the fledgling Spark and resident researcher would want to bring all manner of reference books and magic-user supplies. If left to his own devices the impulsive, but thorough human would be running around like a chicken without a head tomorrow afternoon looking for this and that very essential item at the last minute. <Alpha order.>

<Yes sir, Alpha sir> Stiles replied with a picture of a young adult wolf wagging its tail and showing its belly. Aughruuahhgg, his brain shorted, making him first imagine Stiles as a beautiful russet wolf frolicking with him in full shift (if only) and then as his very human young adult self exposing his belly in the same way, neck bared and open mouthed… 

“Moooving onnn” he said out loud to himself, shaking his head to try to derail that train of thought.

Isaac told Derek that his grateful former classmate, a young man unfortunately named Todd, was going to prepare the cabin for them. A housekeeping service would clean everything and put out fresh linens, the fridge and pantry would be fully stocked and completely at their disposal, and he’d also make sure that any amenities were ready to use. The beta also passed along that they could stay through Monday if they wanted to as thanks for their efforts regardless of the outcome and then gave him Todd’s number in case of emergency. 

<Sounds good> he replied. He was actually looking forward to this.

The last time he’d gotten out of town was the weeklong All Pack trip to the beach after a bunch of them graduated from high school the previous summer, a good 16 or 17 months ago. The seemingly never-ending torrent of “mythical bullshit” (Scott wasn’t wrong about that,) psycho hunters, and whatnot had finally slowed to a crawl and the pack had yet to begin scattering. Everyone had been there, including Allison and Chris, Melissa and the Sheriff, Parrish, and even Danny. Before then it had been when Cora had come up for a visit that Spring with her girlfriend, Dominque, and he, Peter, and Malia had gone to Portland for a weekend with them.

Sigh. Last year they had finally gotten their shit together. He had finally gotten his shit together. He’d strengthened his bonds with Boyd & Erica, the three of them apologizing to each other and him promising to be a better Alpha. Derek showed Isaac and Jackson how much he really cared and he’d spent time ranging in full shift with Malia and teaching her to navigate human bureaucracy. He called Cora at least once a month. 

Derek screamed, cried, fought, and hugged it out with Peter one night when his uncle came over with a veritable Japanese feast — okonomiyaki, karaage, gyudon, yakisoba, and shoyu tonkotsu ramen with chashu pork and soft boiled eggs — and they both got proper drunk on the accompanying wolfsbane-infused 12 year old Yamazaki single malt whisky. They hadn’t spoken of it since, but much of the heaviness, distance, and weaponized cruelty that remained between them faded after they finally said all that they needed to say to each other, waking up the next morning with aching heads and wearing each other’s blood and tears, but with Derek held in his uncle’s arms. 

Hell, he and Scott even kind of started getting along and figuring out how to be two Alphas in the same territory with allied and somewhat overlapping packs. Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Malia, and Peter were straightforwardly his; Liam, Corey, Mason, and Kira were Scott’s (though Derek was checking in with them while the younger Alpha was away finding himself,) but Isaac, Lydia, and Stiles kind of belonged to them both, however that worked. 

I think I know exactly how Isaac wishes it worked, he snickered, wondering if his beta, the True Alpha, and the Huntress would ever resolve whatever the hell was going on there. Scott and Allison were currently on a break (again), Isaac was not-so-subtly mooning over Scott, but was known to make heart eyes at mention of them both (what’s a stabbing or 20 between crushes?) 

When Scott and Allison were last officially together at the pack hangout a month before she went to France they’d taken to giggling and blushing while stealing glances at the beta, who pretended not to notice, but ended up crocheting an exceptionally fugly oven mitt that night, which Stiles dubbed “The Cursed Hand.”  

As for the others, Kira had dated Scott briefly during one of his and Allison’s earlier off-phases, but they’d called it quits amicably. The kitsune was currently dating Jordan Parrish and Derek made sure to keep a fire extinguisher around. Liam was single after he and Hayden broke up and she moved away last year, Corey and Mason were still adorably together, and Peter was no doubt happily slutting it up across Beacon County and beyond. 

Malia wasn’t much interested in romance, but every once in a while she’d feel the urge to go hunt down some willing frat boy or open mic performance artist and drag him off to her studio for what Derek once overheard an astonished college student covered in hickeys call “the most terrifying, confusing, and hottest sex of my life.” When she answered her door he took one look at her smug, predatory face and decided he could go over how to do taxes another time.

Lydia and Jackson kept their medium-distance relationship going, her in Cambridge, MA (MIT) and him in New Haven, CT (Yale.) 

Derek missed having everyone home and hoped most, if not all of them, would be back for good within a few years. At least Erica and Boyd would return in a couple months. In the meantime they’d make it work.

<You know the drill> he messaged his Second. <Hold down the fort and let me know if anything happens. If you don’t hear from either me or Stiles twice a day, by noon (6:00pm tomorrow) and again by 10pm, call and if one of us doesn’t respond within the hour inform Peter and the Sheriff first, then the others if need be.>  

<Will do> Isaac replied. 

<And see if you can track down Malia if you have the time.> 

<Okay. By the way, the scarf is done. It’s on the couch upstairs.>

 <Thank you.> 

<You’re welcome. winky face, smirking face, 2 guys with a heart between them, eggplant, peach, halo face emoji.>

Goddamn sassy betas.

Derek managed to get them on the road heading out of Beacon Hills at exactly 1:57pm due to the sheer force of of his glare and grumpy eyebrows alone. He’d herded Stiles out of his house at 1:35 sharp, threw his crap next to his own duffel bag in the trunk of his car, and followed him to the loft. He shoved open the passenger door as soon as the Jeep was parked and locked and the teenager promptly jogged over, tripped on the door sill and half-fell into the seat. Derek silently shook his head at the clumsy human, waiting until he fastened his seat belt while pointedly ignoring him, then peeled out of there like a bat out of hell. 

They were taking the Camaro because there was absolutely no goddamn way that Derek was going to trust Roscoe for more than 5 miles at a time and even that was pushing it these days. Maybe if he got Stiles a trip to the mechanic for his next birthday he would actually accept someone else getting it fixed for him. The guy was stubborn as a mule.

Isaac had asked to borrow it while they were away for some errands involving the carrying of large objects and Stiles had reluctantly agreed. The loft was closer both to his BCCC campus and the highway, so he was planning to leave Roscoe there anyway so that he could go straight to school if they were running late on the way back. The beta and the Spark might not be the best of friends and seemed to live for getting on each others nerves, but they had an understanding about the important things and Stiles actually trusted Isaac to be careful with his baby. The extra set of keys were already inside, kept in its designated place so that Stiles would never lose both of them (again.)

They made good time, only stopping once for around 20 minutes to pee, get gas, stretch their legs, and load up on snacks and caffeine. The cottage was close to the Upper Klamath Lake, which according to Stiles was “the largest body of fresh water in Oregon.” Upon arrival they immediately checked the perimeter of the cabin and then cleared the rooms before bringing their stuff inside. Stiles had only just recently begun to learn about his birthright, but he knew enough to feel for magical residue and said that he didn’t sense anything unusual so far. 

Deaton was teaching him the basics, including how to create simple wards for warning and protection, which he quickly drew on the front door and on trees at 4 points around the property as Derek stood guard. Stiles would eventually need another mentor to truly develop and master his abilities, but he was already so proud and excited to be able to help the pack beyond whacking things with a baseball bat, being bait, and using Google-Fu. Or, in one memorable instance, annoying and confounding a trio of hobgoblins so much that they left the city. 

The cabin-style cottage had a larger bedroom with a queen sized bed, a smaller bedroom that was set up as an office, and a modern kitchen with granite counters, a gas stove/oven, and an island with stools. There was an adjustable 4-6 person table in the dining area, a couple of closets, a mud room with a stacked washer & dryer set and a chest freezer, and a bathroom boasting a 2 person clawfoot tub, a shower with two rainfall shower heads, and a toilet with a bidet attachment (oooh, fancy!) 

The living room had an oversized dark beige sectional couch, a coffee table with a few art books, a mid sized smart tv equipped with a blu-ray player and a few gaming consoles, and shelves with an assortment of novels, memoirs and biographies, board games, movies, and video games. Needless to say, they were set.

Surprisingly there were not one but two fireplaces as well. Across from the couch and below the mounted tv was a larger, remote controlled gas powered one for quick and efficient heating. The right side of the living room still had the smaller, original wood burning fireplace which would be safe for cooking and was able to provide that traditional ambience of crackling wood and campfire smells if so desired. Taking up much of the space between them was a large, tan plush rug that looked made for lying on.

Outside there was a front porch with a bench swing and around the back there were two picnic tables, a Traeger grill, and a hot tub. Derek was impressed and based on the grin plastered on the younger man’s face so was Stiles.

After settling in and seeing what was in the fridge, pantry, and chest freezer (all the things, apparently) they went out to investigate the trail towards the lake. Stiles brought a messenger bag with a few amplifying objects to help his spark with detection and protection, a couple books on fae creatures, and some binding elements such as iron, salt, mistletoe, and mountain ash. Derek made and packed 4 ham and cheese sandwiches in his backpack along with some trail mix, two insulated liter sized water bottles, a flashlight, digging tools, and…the scarf. It was a beautiful piece of work, the colors rich and complimentary and so fitting for his mate packmate. 

Derek had actually worn it to bed last night and then around the loft this morning while getting ready until it was time to get Stiles. He’d made absolutely sure that Isaac had already left for the day before leaving his room because he’d have never heard the end of it if the beta had seen him with it. He could just imagine the embarrassing pictures with even worse captions on Instagram.

Now the plan was to wait until it got cooler in the evening to give it to Stiles and then the human would be wrapped in his scent. For his safety of course. To make sure any shifters or other supernatural beings knew that he was under the protection of an Alpha wolf. Anything else, like the surely intoxicating blending of scents was just a bonus. Hurry up and go down, sun!

They began by walking together in what was more or less a widening spiral that kept the trail in the center, but circled out to either side through the trees. Derek tried to pick up any scents, sounds, or movements while Stiles reached out with his magic, occasionally focusing so much that he misstepped, tripped or nearly ran into one obstacle or another while shuffling through the fallen leaves. 

After the third time he tugged the far-eyed Spark around a log he joked that Stiles should learn to levitate, but then he’d just run into branches instead.

When they got down by the lake Stiles paused to watch the sun slide below the horizon and Derek figured it was a good a time as any. He opened the backpack and pulled out their water bottles, unable to resist honing in on the motion of the human’s throat as he swallowed in the pink-orange light. He wanted so badly to rest his fingertips there, brush them over that unmarked skin.

Right.

He took a few swigs from his own bottle and set it down, reaching back into the bag and pulling out the carefully folded scarf. 

“Oh hey, this is for you,” Derek said as if he just now remembered that he had it.

Stiles sputtered a bit as he turned in surprise, looking down to where he was being nudged with the bundle of fabric. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, closing and setting down the container before reaching for the scarf.

“For me?” he asked curiously, unfurling it and running his fingers over the pattern.

“Yeah.”

There were at least a half a dozen questions in Stiles’ eyes when he lifted his head again, but instead of voicing them he just made a little humming noise and looked it over again, his scent going warm and sweet with happiness.

“Thanks, man” he said softly.

Derek ducked his head. “You’re welcome.”

Stiles lowered his hood and wound the colorful wool around himself, securing it with a loose knot. Derek coughed to hide the rumble starting in his chest when his scent on the scarf was starting to blend with Stiles’, seeping into into his skin. He drank some more water and got himself together, continuing to be immensely pleased. Mission accomplished.

They stayed out for a few hours after dark thanks to a ring that gave Stiles enhanced night vision, making sure to get back into reliable cell range by 10:00pm to make contact with Issac. There were only a few dead zones or spots with just one bar of service thankfully and they’d checked every 15 minutes or so to give them an idea of how far and how long it’d take to get out of them. It was just after 11:00pm by the time they got back to the cabin, around 5 hours of looking for signs of supernatural activity with nothing out of the ordinary so far.

It’d been a long day for both of them and the yawn Stiles let out was contagious. It wasn’t time to turn in yet though, the miles of hiking burning through the sandwiches and trail mix from a few hours ago. 

Stiles had shown interest in the fireplaces earlier, so Derek figured he’d turn on the gas one for a bit to warm up the place while he got the other one going for snacks. He saw the Spark jump out of the corner of his eye when the flames suddenly foomfed to life and he grinned to himself, turning the fan on medium. Going over to the stack of wood near the traditional one, he began arranging hunks of it interspersed with kindling and then started it with a wand lighter. It wasn’t long before it spread, the wood charring and crackling, and he could feel Stiles’ eyes on his back.

When he turned the Spark was watching him with a curious and concerned expression, his head slightly tilted like a wolf. Derek cleared his throat.

“For a long time I couldn’t…but I…it’s not the same.” 

This was clean burning oak and birch, the stuff of happy outdoorsy memories, not stained wood mixed with the scent of burnt plastic and fabric, scorched metal and chemicals. He shrugged. 

“It smells different. We…we used to go camping or have bonfires at celebrations…”

A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he realized that his own were clenched into fists. He took a deep breath, inhaling the unique and comforting scent of Stiles and met his eyes. “I didn’t want that to be yet another thing ruined so I worked on it,” Derek whispered. “It’s okay now.”

Stiles squeezed where he was holding and leaned in for a quick side hug before nodding and heading into the kitchen. Derek pressed the off button on the remote. 

They cooked bratwurst and then marshmallows over the fire for s’mores, teasing each other when one of Stiles’ melted right off the roasting fork and then Derek managed to turn a poofy white confection into charcoal. They washed it down with hard apple cider and then read for a while taking over opposite sides of the sectional in companionable silence, him with an old Popular Mechanics magazine from the bookshelf and Stiles with one of his quote unquote “Spark Notes.”

It was around 1:00am when sleep crept up on them again, Derek the one to start yawning this time. He got up and stretched, talking their dishes and utensils to the sink while Stiles put out the fire. (“It’s been a while, but I’ve gone camping too,” he retorted when Derek looked at him skeptically.)

They did a last brief check outside around the cabin — finding nothing of note again — and then came back to get ready for bed. 

Oh right, bed. As in singular. 

There’d been a handful of times over the years when the two of them ended up sleeping — or more accurately, at least one of them ended up passing out — together, but it had always been unintentional and there’d usually been other people around as well. Not just…getting into bed together. He could feel himself blush at the thought, but thankfully Stiles was unaware in the bathroom. By the time he came out all minty fresh Derek was leaning casually against the doorframe. 

“You go ahead and take the bed, I’ll sleep out here,” he said, grabbing his night clothes and toiletries to take his turn bathroom. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Nope, I’ll take the couch. You drove and I can sleep anywhere as long as I have my pillow.” The Spark grabbed the aforementioned fluffy object from on top of his stuff and hugged it to himself in a way that wasn’t at all adorable, no siree. “Besides this thing is pretty comfy,” he added, nudging an arm of sectional with his knee and then launching himself to flop over it and onto the cushions like a salmon leaping upstream.

Derek snorted and shook his head, opening his mouth to argue further. “I said I—“

“Nope, too late,” the grinning human cut in. “I’ve physically claimed this epic beigeness and anyway, I’m pretty sure the Alpha is supposed to get the nicest digs and all that.”

And there went his brain short circuiting again at Stiles saying the words “physically claimed” and “Alpha” in the same sentence, especially the latter in that joking, but somewhat suggestive tone. His closed his mouth and whirled around, muttering “Fine” over his shoulder as he made a hasty retreat. The sound of laughter trailed after him.

If he took a longer shower than intended, well, he could use some relaxation, okay? And the fan was still on, so between that and the strong, heavenly spray he wasn’t too concerned about certain sounds being overheard by weak human ears.

Stiles was fast asleep by the time he finished up and Derek paused to watch him fondly, finding himself jealous of the pillow under his head and the throw cushion clutched in his arms. Sinking onto the thick mattress and pulling up the green sheet and blanket he couldn’t say if he was more relieved or disappointed that Stiles didn’t suggest sharing.

Derek woke up first, passing by the couch and having to hold back laughter so as to not wake up the oddly sprawled human. That could not possibly be comfortable and yet Stiles remained fast asleep with one leg extended up a back cushion and the other bent beneath it. He had an arm dangling off the side, hand resting on the floor, and the other forearm thrown diagonally across the right side of his head, somewhat squashing his face between it and his bicep. This was causing him to snore lightly, mouth open with a hint of drool on his cheek. 

Derek quietly heated water, removing the lid off of the kettle before it could start to make noise. He choose some loose leaf spiced orange tea to put in the infuser. It’d been quite some time since he last made tea this way, having only some bags of mint, ginger lemon, and Earl Grey at home which he usually just tossed in a mug and put in the microwave when he wasn’t making coffee. He was looking forward to trying the selection of beans too, but grinding them would be quite loud so he would wait until Stiles got up.

Mug in hand Derek slipped outside to check the warded perimeter and again found nothing out of place. There was one moment where he'd stilled when a sudden gust of cool wind sent leaves swirling wildly around him, but it was just the capricious fall weather. Back inside, he read a naturalist’s autobiography from one of the bookshelves for an hour or so and then started making breakfast.

After slicing some peaches he began preparing a pot of old fashioned oatmeal with water and a pinch of salt. While that was cooking he put bacon on to fry and it wasn’t long before he heard the telltale signs of a semi-conscious Stiles. Smiling, he added milk, brown sugar, maple syrup, and sliced almonds to the oatmeal and covered it, leaving it on warm. 

By the time the groggy Spark managed to get himself upright, stumbled to the bathroom, and then came grumbling into the kitchen a mug of French press coffee was on the counter waiting for his grabby hands. 

“Thanks,” he said after a couple sips with a blissful expression on his squinty face. 

“You’re welcome. Food is ready if you want some.”

Stiles shot him an incredulous look as if he were crazy to suggest he might not. Derek snorted and took it as a compliment. 

He’d only recently gotten back into cooking after years of mostly subsisting on noodles, sandwiches, and protein shakes. It had just seemed pointless for a while, a waste of time when he didn’t care what the source of calories were that fueled him as long as he could function. Why bother when the world was ashes in his mouth? When he felt he didn’t deserve those comforts or found it too painful to be reminded of better times, the memories that certain smells and tastes would conjure. 

But he was trying to hold onto the good that was and to make new memories. Cooking for his pack made him feel useful in a tangible way. Providing like an Alpha should. Not only training and discipline, but comfort and nourishment too. And it was something he simply enjoyed. Trying different recipes, tweaking and perfecting old ones. It calmed him. 

Derek chopped half of the bacon strips to put on top of their bowls of oatmeal, sweet and salty-savory just like his paternal grandmother used to make it. The rest he placed on a plate with peaches and set between them. 

Once the coffee kicked in Stiles was animated again, thinking up ways to entice or summon the supernatural creature, assuming it was still around. They planned to go out on another hike after taking it easy for an hour or so. Neither of them sensed any malevolent entities then, so they decided to split up a bit to cover more ground while remaining in earshot just in case. He reminded Stiles to watch where he was going when the teen headed off into the forest, Derek going down to walk parallel on the lakeshore.

When Stiles cried out in pain Derek’s heart leapt into his throat. Was there something out here after all and did it just attack his mate? He ran toward the sound as fast as he could, claws and fangs out and ready to tear into any hostile creature who dared to hurt the emissary-in-training. They hadn’t gone far from each other so less than a minute later he came skidding to a halt in front of the younger man who was currently half sitting and half sprawled on the ground, wincing and holding his right leg out straight, resting it on his left leg. 

Derek looked all around and honed in on his hearing and sense of smell for signs of another presence even as he started talking to Stiles, who was attempting to get up.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

The human groaned and cursed before settling back and sighing heavily. 

“Just me and my clumsiness. I tripped on a root and and then caught myself by stepping in a gopher hole or something. Landed wrong. I think it’s sprained, not broken, but it still hurts like a bitch.”

Derek stopped scanning for threats and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Stiles might be the worse for wear, but he was okay. Would be okay. He let his beta shift melt away and closed his still red eyes.

“Der? Hey, what’s wrong? You’re, um, shaking dude…”

What? He looked down at himself and he was indeed trembling, especially his hands. Derek swallowed.

“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” he grumped quietly for old time’s sake. He crouched down and looked Stiles over, pausing to take in the scarf around his neck and the scent of them, and wondered if he was really going to do this. 

If not now, then when? If something terrible had happened what would you regret more? Bright brown eyes watched him curiously, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath.

“I thought something had happened to you. That you were hurt...“ Stiles looked down at his now impressively swollen ankle and then back at him, raising an eyebrow. Derek smirked and huffed, the moment of levity releasing some of his tension. 

“That you had been attacked, he clarified.” Stiles nodded, but still appeared a bit puzzled. Here goes.

“And I…Stiles, if anything happened to you…I couldn’t bear it.”

The scents of happiness and surprise overtook the bitterness of pain and the nineteen year old smiled at him affectionately. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Don’t worry, you won’t have to learn how to navigate web forums or need to get your own subscription to JSTOR or anything—“

“No, that’s not…” Derek growled in frustration. He had been so adamant about not showing his feelings — and promising a world of hurt to any of the young wolves who figured it out should they let it spill — that Stiles truly had no idea what he thought of him. That and the human’s self-esteem issues, which he tried to hide behind sarcasm and self-deprecating laughter that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Fuck it. Derek reached out and placed a palm against Stiles’ jaw and cheek. The younger man inhaled sharply through his nose and stilled.

“If anything happened to you, specifically, I couldn’t bear it. You’re very important to me, Stiles. And I’m sorry for not making that clear.”

Stiles licked his lips nervously, eyes searching Derek’s face.

“Uh, do you mean because I’m your packmate or…?”

“Or.”

There was a soft sound that was surprise and disbelief and longing all at once. Derek wanted to hear all of Stiles’ noises. He ran his thumb across the soft skin and was rewarded with a whimper as the teen leaned into his hand. Derek then leaned toward him.

Their first kiss was was slow and sweet, reassuring and exploratory. They rested their foreheads together breathing each others air. 

“Wow,” Stiles whispered.

“Mmhmm,” he agreed.

Then the human went to adjust his position and hissed in pain. Oh right. 

“Let’s get you back,” Derek said, rising to his feet and then carefully helping Stiles up without putting weight on his injured ankle. The stubborn youth tried awkwardly hopping while braced against him, but after a couple minutes of the very slow going, obviously tiring, and all-around ridiculous movement Derek had enough and swooped a squawking Stiles up into a bridal carry.

“Hey, I could make it just fine on—!” 

He shot the Stiles a flat look and he huffed, crossing his arms and turning away with flushing cheeks. Derek’s nostrils flared as musky-sweet arousal soon overtook the sour-salt burn of embarrassment. The action wasn’t missed and those cheeks grew redder still as did the strength of both scents and he grinned, hefting him higher and more firmly against his body. 

Derek already knew that Stiles liked it when he manhandled him. He had both tried to avoid it as much as possible and did so deliberately at different points in times, which now that he thought of it was kind of an asshole thing to do. The thing was that he knew the human was attracted to him, but he hadn’t realized there were serious feelings on his end too. Derek sighed. A mess. 

A while later he could feel Stiles staring at him and he turned to look at him inquisitively.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just wondering if I actually hit my head when I fell and this is all just a trauma-induced hallucination.” Derek laughed and brought his lips to Stiles’. “Hmm, still not sure, better try that again.” A few minutes went by in silence before he continued. “But seriously, I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, you used to hate me and now—“

“I never hated you,” Derek interrupted. 

“Not even when I helped get you arrested?”

“Not even then. Frustrated and annoyed by you, definitely. Angry at, for sure. But hate you? Never. You’re my—“ he cut off when he realized what he was about to say. Despite his truly extraordinary levels of denial at the time he knew when they first met that the trespassing teenager was his mate. It was surely too early to talk about all that, though. He didn’t want to freak out the human, who was of course now observing him with a sharpened gaze.

“I’m your what?”

“My soon-to-be emissary who should really pay more attention to where he’s going in the future,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. Stiles narrowed his eyes. Derek knew better than to expect him to drop the matter, but hopefully some deflecting would buy him time. “Oh, and what was it that you called me once? ‘Issues City’?”

Stiles cringed in his arms.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Der. I didn’t mean anything by—“

“I know,” he replied, grinning and rolling his eyes. “And, it’s not like you were wrong.”

Stiles giggled. “True. And obviously, I’m right there myself in the yurt next to yours.”

“Why would we be living in yurts? Those are for camping and stuff or, you know, actual  nomadic people. Not cities.”

“I dunno dude, cuz they're cool and it’s fun to say? Step out of your box. Use your imagination. Live a little—”

“In our imaginary city,” he deadpanned.

“Yes, Derek! My yurt...” Stiles paused, the tip of his tongue adorably poking out the side of his mouth as he thought. “Has a moat full of Baja Blast and is guarded by an army of angry quokkas.”

“Well my yurt is—“

He was suddenly holding an armful of convulsively laughing teenager and he raised his eyebrows, shaking his head when it subsided only after a whined “Oww.” A few moments later Stiles was mocking him, repeating “my yurt” with an exaggerated seriousness of voice and facial expressions, setting himself off again with the same results.

“Are you done?” Derek asked, trying to keep a straight face.

The impish youth nodded, attempting to portray the very picture of innocence.

“My…” Stiles leaned ever so slightly forward and Derek narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Collapsableportablecirculardwelling is—” 

This time they both dissolved into laughter, Derek sliding his hand further down to brace the injured leg so it wouldn’t be jostled too much.

When they returned Stiles removed his shoes, hoodie, and the scarf, uncharacteristically careful with the latter by taking a moment to hang it over a chair instead of just tossing it aside. He then dug around in his bag and pulled out a bottle wrapped in a runed token with relief. 

“I should’ve brought this when we went out in case of—“

“You?” 

He chuckled as Stiles glared at him. Just because he finally made his feelings (well, some of them) known didn’t mean he was going to stop giving the younger man shit. 

The Spark swallowed a dropper full of the purple liquid and Derek couldn’t help watching the movement of his Adam’s apple on the once more uncovered throat. He forced himself to stop staring and listened to Stiles explain how it sped up the healing of at least non-severe injuries to near werewolf levels. Apparently it also used a good deal of energy because shortly after he was fast asleep on the couch and once again in an awkward position. Derek shook his head fondly and gently straightened out his neck and arranged his limbs so that he wouldn’t wake up so cricked that he’d have to take the purple stuff again. 

He busied himself going through the impressively stocked fridge, freezer, and pantry again and figured out what he wanted to make for dinner. For Stiles. Filling, nutritious, comforting and seasonal foods that also served to show what he could make, how he could provide, if he made the effort. 

Brown stewed turkey wings cooked low and slow, which he learned from his mother who was herself taught by a Jamaican friend in college. He roasted butternut squash and sweet potato, the later of which he used to make a creamy soup with caramelized red onion, garlic, sage, and an intriguing smelling curry blend he found called rogan josh, but held off on the blending for now. Then came the baking: a simple, crusty loaf of bread and ginger chocolate chip cookies. 

There were mulling spices and red wine so he heated some on the stove and lightly sweetened it with honey. For a cold beverage he put some of the delicious fresh pressed honeycrisp apple juice into a carafe with optional bourbon and cardamom bitters on the side. By the time he was preparing a spinach salad with kale, walnuts, and apple with an orange vinaigrette Sleeping Beauty was beginning to stir from his slumber. 

“Mmm, something smells amazing," Stiles mumbled sleepily before sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. Derek was instantly drawn to the strip of belly revealed when his shirt rode up and he swallowed. When he looked up Stiles was watching him, head slightly tilted and a rosiness to his cheeks. 

"Um, d-dinner's ready," he stammered, turning abruptly to start dishing things up as the scents of amusement and low grade arousal wafted over to him. 

This evening was cooler than the last so they ate snuggled up in blankets sitting in front of the remote controlled fireplace on the thick, fluffy rug. It was indeed even more comfortable than it looked. Stiles had the scarf on again and Derek couldn't help glancing over repeatedly, pleased to see his mate wearing his gift, smelling more like his, and enjoying the meal he prepared for him. 

"God Derek, you need to keep cooking like this when we get back. At least sometimes. I'm begging you," Stiles said, scraping the remaining bits together and moaning obscenely as he ate the last bite. 

Derek felt his eyes flash red and he could just make out Stiles' pupils dilating in the flickering glow of the firelight. The human took a shaky breath and scooted over to him, gaze falling to his mouth and up again. Derek turned further and wrapped his arms around him, drawing Stiles close and sinking his face against that them scented throat, inhaling deeply. 

A hand grasped the back of his head and then legs were scrambling as Stiles awkwardly climbed into his lap to straddle him, rubbing against him and whispering, “Please.”  

Derek lifted his head and caught those soft, parted lips that he’d dreamt of for so long, pressing against them and then sucking the lower before slipping his tongue inside. Stiles made a desperate, needy sound and he smiled, deepening the kiss.

He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the floor to set Stiles down below him and laid between his legs, rutting against him while continuing to his plunder his mouth.

“Off,” Stiles gasped when they came up for air, tugging at his shirt. Derek rose up to obey, pulling it off with a single motion and not above flexing when the younger man paused to stare. Smiling, he grasped a hesitant hand and brought it to his chest to assure Stiles that he was allowed to feel. The other soon joined and slender fingers roamed over him in tandem and separately in turns, up to his shoulders and upper arms and along his sides then across his twitching abdomen. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Derek,” Stiles said quietly. 

He couldn’t help blushing. Many people found him attractive, generally to his chagrin, but no one  else ever sounded like that. Like he was precious and beautiful, not just an object to be imposed on.

After another minute or so of exploring, the human started wiggling to remove his own clothes and Derek splayed a hand on his half-bared belly.

“Let me,” he said huskily. Stiles nodded and sank back against the rug, raising his arms above his head.

Derek unwrapped his mate like the gift that he was, starting with unwinding the scarf. He put it aside, his other palm running over that pale column possessively, and then came the shirt, pushed up and off to expose lean muscle. Unable to resist anymore he dove to taste and mark at last, latching onto Stiles’ throat to nibble and suck from one side to the other. 

Working his way down over Stiles’ left clavicle, Derek pressed an ear directly over his rapidly beating heart for several moments before proceeding to mouth at a raised nipple, earning a light gasp. Tweaking the other between his fingertips, he then switched to soothe it with his tongue. 

When he moved toward his belly button, scruff brushing lightly against the skin, Stiles jolted up part way and giggled. Derek joined in the laughter and seeing those ever moving hands fly up to where he was ticklish gave him an idea. Picking up the scarf and holding it taut between his upturned palms he looked down at the curious youth with a hint of red in his stare.

“Can I?”

Stiles dropped his gaze to the length of fabric, swallowing as understanding bloomed in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

He bound his mate’s wrists together with one end and then looped the middle twice around a leg of the coffee table before wrapping the other end around the first and securing it with a snug knot. The ties were loose enough to not damage the material and they could be worked out of with a bit of effort, but it would serve as a reminder and stay any errant movements.  

Slowly, he divested Stiles of his pants, his heart racing when Derek bent down to nuzzle at the bulge in his red boxer briefs and breathed in his deepening arousal before pulling those off as well. 

“Beautiful,” Derek said, leaning back to survey the enthralling sight before him. The resultant all over blush made him even more lovely. 

He nudged strong yet supple thighs further apart and made himself comfortable between them, grasping Stiles’ cock in his left hand as he reached to fondle his balls with the right and took one into his mouth. Palming the underside of his thighs, Derek then pushed up to expose his prize, lapping over his mate’s pretty hole. 

Spurred on by breathy expletives, he delved and teased until the human was a writhing, whimpering mess, easing off and squeezing at the base of his cock when Stiles got close. Derek set a knee over his shoulder and licked up and around the shaft, finally engulfing the head and sinking down down down and up again, hollowing his cheeks. He popped off momentarily to let saliva flow into Stiles’ cleft, coating his thumb and circling it over the rim as he got back to work and met dazed whisky colored eyes. 

When Stiles approached his peak again Derek pressed the thick digit through his tight entrance, groaning at the feel of him as he found and rubbed against his prostate. Moments later Stiles was crying out and coming down his throat and he was determined not to lose a single drop. Derek didn’t release him until he was sure he’d swallowed it all, pulling off the spent member and licking the tip for good measure, still continuing to finger the trembling Spark.

“Lube…my bag,” Stiles said, panting.

Derek withdrew and got up, making a stop to the bathroom and returning with some damp cloths before retrieving the bottle from the duffle and grabbing a throw cushion from the couch.

“I wasn’t being…presumptuous,” Stiles suddenly blurted, trying to emphasize with his hands before remembering he was restrained. “I use it, you know, myself when—“

“Stiles, relax. I’m very glad you brought some.” He set the stuff down on the coffee table. “Besides, apparently you would’ve been right to be.” Derek smirked as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down and stepping out of them.

“God, I knew it. Of course you go commando,” Stiles whined, eyes wide while taking him in. 

He flashed a predatory grin.

“Only sometimes, but I’ll keep your approval in mind.”

Derek took hold of his rock hard erection and stroked himself lazily, enjoying the way Stiles watched him, biting that plumped lower lip as he advanced toward him. He wanted to feel them wrapped around his cock so he set himself over the youth and got down to straddle his chest. Stiles gasped and licked his lips and Derek gently gripped his face, running a thumb over his cheek.

“Okay?” he asked.

Stiles nodded enthusiastically and croaked, “Yeah.” 

He opened his mouth and Derek leaned forward, running the tip over those cupid’s bow lips and sighing in pleasure as he finally entered that welcoming wet heat. Stiles began to bob and suck as well as he could in that position as Derek met his eyes, caressing the side of his face with the back of his right hand. 

How did he ever get so goddamn lucky? 

Truth be told, he assumed that Stiles would’ve been long gone by now and he hadn't planned to do — to say — anything to hold him back, but the stubborn young man stayed and now here they were and if he wasn't literally being blown this very instant he wouldn't have believed. Hell, it still felt like a dream. 

He blinked as he realized that encompassing warmth had pulled away, tongue flicking over him playfully instead, and he refocused to see his mate's amused expression. 

"You alright there, big guy?" 

"Yeah, sorry,” he murmured, embarrassed by his distraction and hoping Stiles didn’t think he’d been anything less than wonderful. “I just…I can't believe I get to have you. I never expect—” 

“Well, get used to it, Alpha,” the mischievous human interjected, delighting his wolf and drawing out a possessive rumble. “Now come down here and kiss me and then fuck my face.”

Derek’s jaw fell open even as Stiles flushed at his own brazen command yet refused to look away. He hurried to comply, tasting traces of himself as their mouths slotted together, soft and slow and deep. When they came up for air Derek got back into position, eyes dark with desire,  but hesitant.

“Go ahead, Der,” Stiles said, seductively licking his lips. “I want you to and I know you want to, don’t even front. Plus, it’ll give my neck a break,” he added, smirking before opening up wide.

Derek chuckled and slide a hand through Stiles’ growing hair and around to the back, holding him in place as he shifted forward and leaned on his other hand as he fed his cock to the eager Spark. His hips started jerking as soon as those lips stretched tight around him and he groaned as he began to thrust in earnest, finding a rhythm. He was wasn’t sure how experienced the younger man was so he did his best to stop shy of choking him. 

The signs of his mate’s enjoyment at being used so, the half-lidded gaze and the pleasant vibrations from his muffled moans, only served to bring Derek closer to the edge. As amazing as it would be to come in that lovely mouth though, he wanted to fuck Stiles even more, so he would save that for another time. Many many other times if he had his way.

Stiles pouted when he withdrew and moved back, but began jiggling a foot in anticipation once he reached for the lube. Derek pressed two slippery fingers inside where his tongue and thumb had been not long before, pumping and twisting and scissoring. He slipped in a third, growling at the sight of Stiles rocking onto him, his cock erect and leaking once more. 

With apologies Derek brought his hand away to slick himself up, promising his mate that he was about to give him what he needed. He settled over Stiles and between his spread legs, leaning down for a sloppy kiss before drawing back enough to push his knees up. When Derek had him bent almost in half he pressed the tip of his cock against the teen’s fluttering hole and waited for him to exhale.

There was a moment of resistance before the head popped through that tight ring and then he was plunging slow and steady into Stiles’ hot channel. Derek put a palm to his hip to drain his discomfort and he felt the younger man relax as he bottomed out. Holding still, he ignored the urge to thrust fast and hard so that his mate could get used to him. 

When Stiles indicated that he was ready Derek started off with short, gentle strokes that gradually increased in intensity, dragging over that special bundle of nerves and making the Spark close his eyes in pleasure. Capturing those parted lips, he used his tongue in time with the snap of his hips, wanting to be inside his mate in every way possible.

Derek broke the kiss and reached above them to tug open the knot and loosen the loops of the scarf so that Stiles could slip free. He’d greatly enjoyed their evening playing with it — the trust, vulnerability, and submission —  but now he needed something more, needed to feel his mate’s touch. 

As soon as the teen had stretched and shaken out his arms they were wrapped around his waist and upper back, the hand of the latter sliding up to burrow in his hair as Stiles rocked up to meet every thrust and chanted his name. Derek held him close, their movements becoming a slow, deep fully body grind as they resumed kissing like they could only breathe the other’s air. Pressed flush together until he didn’t know where he ended and Stiles began, their scents no longer just their own, but imbued with them.

Stiles’ orgasm took them both by surprise, the human crying out and digging blunt fingernails into his shoulders as liquid pulsed between them and he clenched rhythmically around Derek’s cock, taking him over the edge as well. He buried his face in the cast off blankets to muffle his roar as he filled Stiles with his essence, already longing to do it again when they separated at last and he floated euphoric between wakefulness and sleep.

“So, I’m your mate, huh?” 

Derek’s eyes flew open some indeterminate amount of time later to find Stiles watching him with a wry smile.

“C’mon dude, you can’t be surprised I figured it out. ‘I can’t hate you, you’re my dot dot dot,’” the human mimicked, giving him a pointed look. “I’m only mad I didn’t see it earlier. I chalked up all the lurking, sorry, ‘checking in’ by my house to me being a vulnerable human and stuff.” Stiles snorted at his stunned expression. 

“I have wards, duh. And I made them so that I basically get a daily proximity report for non-hostile activity around the house just in case there’s still something I should know about,” he explained, shrugging. Derek cringed and Stiles patted him on the shoulder, squeezing  before continuing. “Or maybe it was something you did with all your packmates, I never asked.” 

There was a hint of something — anxiety? insecurity? — that led him to think that the Spark hadn’t wanted to know for sure that it was the same with everyone. Or to learn that he was being treated differently, but not for reasons he wanted. So he just didn’t in order to be able to maybe imagine sometimes… 

Derek understood perfectly, his heart aching for his mate who’d apparently been doing his own dance of pining and avoidance. How very fitting and silly of them.

“But add in the scarf,” Stiles continued — reaching across him to grab it and drape it over himself, fingers tracing its patterns lovingly — “and the sniffing and looks and providing since we’ve been here and well, I finally put 2 and 2 together. I might be fairly oblivious, but you, Mr. Wolf, are not subtle.”

Derek barked a laugh and grinned, unable to be annoyed at his pushy instinctual side when this was the outcome.

“Yes, you’re my clever, ridiculous mate.” 

“Sweet.”

The subsequent reflective silence lasted approximately 37 seconds.

“Sooo…do you have a knot?” 

Derek groaned and flopped onto his back, closing his eyes. He tried not to giggle when Stiles began poking him in the shoulder, complaining that he had a right to know about things which may or may not make an appearance in his ass. Sighing, he turned back over. 

“After the mating is complete, apparently.”

“Seems pretty complete to me,” Stiles joked, wagging his eyebrows. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“I suppose it’s time to borrow those books from Peter for you. The short version is, well, there has to be certain…intentions and behaviors and then a mating bite with my wolf teeth if—if you decide you want it someday and—“

“When,”  Stiles emphasized, matter-of-factly.

“When,” he repeated with a smile, pulling his mate close and nuzzling him to revel in their combined scents. 

The conversation continued, astute inquiries and humorous asides becoming intermittent murmurs until Stiles drifted off and he soon followed, lulled by the sound of his mate’s breathing.

Unsurprisingly, Derek woke first again and laid there for a good 15-20 minutes just watching Stiles sleep. Taking in the sight of him so soft and disheveled, beautiful and all his. His mate. When the desire to touch and taste won out over his contentment to observe, he made his way under the blanket haphazardly covering the human to part his thighs just enough to suckle at his dormant cock.

He’d mentioned last night how intense his cravings for his mate would be, especially this first month, now that they’d slept together. Stiles had grinned smugly and given him permission to have his way with him unless he stated otherwise.

Derek savored the evidence of arousal growing on his tongue and began to work slowly up and down the hardening shaft, coaxing the human back into consciousness. 

“Well, hello there,” Stiles mumbled, petting his head with a smile in his voice. 

In response, Derek redoubled his efforts and those slender fingers curled, tugging at his hair, and he moaned in approval. He encouraged Stiles to thrust upward in time with his movements, playing with his balls and then pressing behind them until he was rewarded with cries of pleasure and swallowed down his warm release. 

There was still no sign of any supernatural activity later that morning, fae or otherwise, as they reported again to Isaac. Whatever mystery being (or human prankster) had been there before had seemingly moved on, but they figured they might as well enjoy one more lazy day and cozy night alone together. Stiles fired up the grill that evening and it was Derek’s turn to be provided for and impressed by his mate’s cooking. They had filet mignon kebabs with zucchini and red onion accompanied by salted foil wrapped baked potatoes served with sour cream, chives, and smoked paprika. 

After one last walk around the property and down to the lake and back Derek got the whirlpool going and they blissed out soaking in the hot, turbulent water. The noises Stiles let out as the tension in his body dissipated, sliding down in the seat until his head was thrown back against the edge and his throat on full display, had Derek promptly wedged between his legs, sucking new bruises between yesterday’s blooms and grinding against him. 

He wasn’t about to attempt penetration in the water, but had another tantalizing idea in mind. Derek hauled Stiles up and turned him around before carefully placing him down with his torso on the surrounding deck and his legs and and ass hanging over the side. All but ripping off his trunks, Derek knelt back on the seat in the hot tub and spread his cheeks, eating him out with abandon until Stiles climaxed untouched with a guttural moan that he vowed to wring from him again.

Then he got out and carried his mate inside over his shoulder, snagging the bottle of lube from the living room and heading to christen the bedroom. Derek set the loose limbed teen onto the mattress on his belly and propped his hips up with a pillow. Impatiently, he slicked himself up and tested Stiles’ still ready hole with a couple of fingers before mounting him and sheathing his cock in a single motion. 

Derek pressed against his back and pinned him down, thrusting in long, deep strokes that made the teen gasp, increasing in speed until they grew erratic. His balls drew up and he howled as he planted his seed deep inside Stiles’ pliant body, remaining there until the human began to squirm. When he finally pulled away he dropped down beside his fuck drunk mate and peppered his smiling face with kisses. 

Stiles swatted his ass playfully and then grabbed hold of a cheek as they snuggled.

“Next time you can fuck me if you want,” he whispered, laughing at the surprised and hungry look on the teen’s face. 

They got up shortly before dawn and packed the last of their things, only bothering with a cursory shower because most of the time they had to spare was spent with Stiles’ kneeling on some extra towels in the stall with Derek’s cock in his insatiable mouth. 

Miraculously, they managed to leave at a quarter to 8:00 so Stiles could get back for his noon class barring any lengthy unexpected events. They passed the time with a combination of radio roulette, talking about whatever came to mind, and comfortable silence as Stiles read or gazed out the window and Derek had his thoughts, which were actually pleasant for once. How could they not be with his mate by his side?

To think that going on this random and apparently unnecessary, but strangely amazing trip had changed so much for the both of them. It couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been planned.

He glanced over and Stiles was idly playing with the end of his scarf with his right hand and Derek took his left, their fingers interlocking seamlessly like the red and amber yarn. It felt like they’d been doing this for ages. As if they belonged there, bound together. 

They did. 

Isaac:  

Recently returned from his morning English class, Isaac was getting a jump on the reading assignment when he heard the Camaro pull up outside.

He thew down the paperback and hurried over to the window to peer outside through a gap in the curtains. Derek and Stiles — who was wearing the scarf, yes! — were talking and standing rather close. He crossed his fingers. 

Moments later Derek took both of Stiles’ hands in his own and the human laughed, leaning in for a kiss. Isaac pumped his fist.

 “Hallelujah,” he whispered, turning away and picking up his phone feeling incredibly smug.

<They’re back. It worked.> 

<Thank fuck> replied Z-ter. <If I had to listen to one more longing sigh I would’ve gone and gotten myself killed a second time.>

Isaac snickered. <Dramatic much? But now we’re probably gonna have to put up with the loft smelling like a whorehouse.> 

<Like you’ve ever been to a whorehouse. Anyway, that would still be an improvement over the stench of sadness, frustration, and failure.>

<Lmao.>

<But speaking of your taste in music…>

<Oh, fuck you.>

<Sorry, this is Peter, not Scott or Allison.>

Blushing fiercely and mouth hanging open, he tried to think of a response, but the elder beta continued on like he didn’t just casually wreck him.

<I’m glad it was successful. Not that I had much doubt, it was my plan after all.>

Isaac huffed. <*Our* plan.>

Sure their resident zombie wolf had the associate with a decked out cabin who owed him a favor, but the idea to send them off somewhere together after Derek asked for the scarf —  which he then beautifully made, thank you very much — had been his.

<Tomayto, tomahto.>

He sent a middle finger emoji.

The Jeep struggled to life out front and Derek walked in shortly after with a big, stupid grin on his face. Isaac just looked at him and shook his head though he was secretly happy for his Alpha. God knew he deserved some joy in his life, even if it was with Stiles of all people. He only hoped that he didn’t have to see or hear any activities as well. Isaac would bet anything that Stiles was a screamer. 

Later that afternoon he received a message from the loud mouth himself.

<Glad to see my baby is still one piece.>

<I know your clumsy ass isn’t talking about breaking things.>

<Lol, fair. Hey, do you think you could knit me a beanie sometime? That scarf you made is pretty awesome, btw.>

Isaac sighed heavily. Of course.

<Hmm…for a price.>

<Well that sounds ominous.>

<Grinning devil emoji. Just a small favor at some point in the future. No first borns, I promise.>

<Uhhh…okaaay…>

<Deal. Now let me guess…gray with green. Perhaps with some blue and gold accents?>

<Holy shit, how did you know?!?>

<I’m psychic.>

Isaac rolled his eyes as he set the phone back on the side table. “Idiots, the both of them,” he muttered.

Still he couldn’t help smiling as he began looking through his supplies. 

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies- Tommy Shelby

Chapter 7: ‘All My Heart’ 

Warnings in this chapter: No warnings this chapter, mostly fluff, a little angst in the beginning. 

Masterlist

---

It was the very next week. 

Your children were over at your home once again. You had just picked them up from their tutors, feeding and bathing them before sending them up tp their rooms to read before you retreated to your own bedroom. You had just remembered you were gifted an old family recipe book, an old notebook made from parchment and covered in red leather that had to be old and tattered now. It was filled on every page with hundreds of recipes of baked goods, pastries, and deserts that dated back to the 1860′s. In hopes you would be able to use the book to find something new to sell for the customers, just in time for the Spring as it was just a few more weeks away. 

You looked through the many boxes that were stored in your closet, setting them on the floor in front of you. One of the boxes you had opened held a variety of fabric and smaller boxes. One of the pieces of fabric caught your eye You picked it up, gently unfolding it and holding it out in front of you as it was revealed to be an old yellow dress you wore on your first outing with your ex-husband. The next dress you found was the one you had worn when you first found out you were pregnant, it was a beautiful shade of blue like the sea and printed with floral designs. It was a dress your mother made for you. Digging deeper, you found the small box that contained your wedding band. You felt your stomach sink as your heart swelled with emotion. The memories you had shared with him since you were young. Taking a deep breath and shaking your head before the tears could form, ‘It’s in the past’ You reminded yourself as your quickly set the contents back in the box and placed the lid on. When you reached into the second box you felt something soft against your fingers, gently pulling it out. It was a cotton sheet that was tied with a lilac ribbon. 

You curiously untied the cotton bag, letting out a small gasp as the corners fell and draped over your lap. Your eyes widened at the pair of baby slippers. One pair was knitted in what used to be white wool, which now started to grow beige over time. The other pair looked nicer, being that they were store bought instead of hand-made. They were navy in color with white stripes around the ankle. When you were pregnant with Elizabeth, you and your husband had little money, so your mother took the liberty in giving you the hand-knitted socks. By the time you were pregnant with Henry your husband had a better job and you both owned a decent amount of money, so you had bought the second pair in a local store in London. You sniffled and cursed to yourself as the memories and guilt flooded through you once again. You gently placed them back in the rag and tied them up before placing it back in the box and putting them back in your closet after you found what you were looking for, hidden away and out of sight. 

The very next day you took the day off from the bakery. Sitting at your vanity, applying mascara on your lashes. 

“How come you’re wearing makeup, mum?” Elizabeth asked as she entered your room and sat herself down on your bed, her feet dangling off the side.

“I always wear makeup,” You inform her with a glance through the mirror as you focus on the task. 

“Are you going on a date?” She asked, you chortle and put the brush and pan of mascara away in the drawer.

“No, love I am not,” You told her, which caused her to nod quietly. You picked up the tube of lipstick. 

“Are you trying to look pretty for Thomas?” She then asked, you set the lip stick down and sigh as you turn your full attention to her.

“Elizabeth.” You warn. She only put her hands up in defense as she hopped off of the bed and left you alone in the room.

“You better be ready in one hour!” You called to her. You applied the light lipstick before blotting the excess on a tissue. You stood up, smoothing down your dress. It was a beautiful lavender shade with white detailing. It was simple and casual but still appropriate for your day with Thomas. You take a deep breath as you stop at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Thomas’ arrival.

Just as you had stepped into the living room, you groaned at the mess your children had made of it. Their books and toys scattered around the room.

"Elizabeth, Henry!" You called, followed by a tsk. Finding it useless in asking them to clean up. You scanned the room, picking up any toy or book you could and attempting to find a place to put them. You scoffed at yourself and set the books on the shelf haphazardly and ran up the stairs to quickly place the toys in the toy box. A knock at the door caused you to gasp. It was Thomas. Running down the stairs to throw the last of the books on the shelves.

"You two know I cleaned the house, please pick up after yourselves! This is just..," You give up and sigh heavily. Kicking the last of the toys under the couch.

Out of sight, out of mind.

You smooth down your dress once more and fix any stray hairs as you open the front door. Thomas stood on the front steps, wearing his peaked cap, coat, and gloves. You smiled at him.

"Thomas…Hi," You heard the two sets of feet bounding down the wooden stairs and stopping behind you.

"(Y/n)…Elizabeth, Henry," He nodded in acknowledgment to your children who now stood in front of you.

"Hi Mr. Shelby," Henry said.

"Hello, Thomas," Elizabeth's voice was as stoic as her expression. You tsked again and threw your coat on before having the children lead the way. Thomas suggested you all go for a drive. The trees were starting to gain their leaves back this time of year and thought your kids would have a good time running up and down the hills and picking flowers. Upon your arrival to your secret destination, he opened the door for you and your children to exit the vehicle.

If Thomas Shelby was anything besides a criminal, he was a gentleman.

A good one at that.

You smiled brightly at him, your lips painted the slightest shade of red to match the natural blush of your cheeks.

The sun was shining bright that day, opposite of your usual gloomy Birmingham weather. The sun kissed your cheeks and warmed your skin, slightly. It was still cool out, but at least your kids got to soak up what little bit of sun that had peeked from behind the clouds. You took a breath of fresh air as you walked to the open grass. The large trees being the only thing providing shade. You set a large blanket down under the tree, Thomas sitting down beside you as Henry and Elizabeth took off running down the hill. You grin in contentment as you watch them from afar, shouting and chasing each other around the field.

“How do you do it?” He asked. You glanced at him, your shaded glasses over your eyes to shield the harsh rays of the sun.

“Do what?”

“Take care of the both of them by yourself,”

You took a deep breath and shrugged. Slightly shaking your head as you thought for a moment.

“It gets easier as they get older, but the older they get the less dependent they are on me,”

“That should be a good thing,” He spoke. You didn’t expect him to get it right away since he never got the chance to share the same feelings you did when it came to being a parent.

“It is sometimes, but they’re still going to be my babies no matter what, I won’t treat them like that forever but I also don’t want them to think that just because they grow up they don’t need me anymore,” You explained. You wished you could follow your own advice. The regret of pushing your own family away still plagues your mind to this day.

“I don’t just feed them, I bathe them, play games with them…I hug them when they’re sad and teach them things that I wished my family taught me before I had to learn them the hard way,”

“All we really know is the hard way…that can benefit them,” He said, blowing smoke out of his mouth. You nod in contemplation at this response.

“In some cases yeah,” You agreed. “I like to foster their self-interests, it helps ‘em find activities they enjoy,”

“I did the same with my boy, he loved horses…his mother wasn’t very fond of them, and the horses here are far superior to the horses in America,”

“Speaking from experience or is that a biased opinion?” You chuckled

“A bit of both,” The laughs eased into silence, the birds chirping were the only sounds that could be heard besides the screams and laughs of your children in the distance as they fed the birds by the pond. You wondered if their father had done the same for them. He wasn’t the most motivating man when it came to your marriage but he sure as hell was reassuring but you still wondered if he gave them the same motivation and reassurance.

‘No I shouldn’t think so negatively about him, I should still have faith in him’ You thought.

“Mummy!” Henry called as he ran up to you, slightly panting with Elizabeth running up behind him. Looking away from Thomas and up at their red faces and messy, winded hair.

“Yes, Love,”

Henry pulled out a crooked paper airplane, made from what looked like an old homework assignment.

“A boy in my class tried to teach me how to make a parchment aero-plane but it doesn’t fly very good,” He said, a small frown of disappointment.

“Let me see here, Henry,” Thomas leaned forward to hold out his hand for the boy to pass it to him. He took the small plane in his hands and examined it, he tsked before nodding once.

“That boy in your class had no idea what he’s doing…Here let me show you,” Thomas said before scooting over so Henry could take a seat beside him and watch Thomas unfold the paper. Elizabeth sat at your side and rested her head on your shoulder as she watched as well, calming her breaths. 

“...And you fold it like this…and you got yourself an aero-plane,” Thomas finished, handing the plane back to Henry as it was in better shape and had more of a sturdy structure to it. Henry smiled in delight, examining it with big bright eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby,”

“Let's go see if she flies now, boy,” Thomas said as he stood up. Henry followed suit and stopped just before the steep of the hill. Thomas held the plane, demonstrating how to throw it properly.

“Have you thrown a dart before, Henry?” He asked. Henry nodded.

“Yeah, dad taught me before,” He said, glancing up at Thomas.

“Good, now it’s just like that, all in the wrists,” He says as he motions how to throw it, giving the plane back to Henry. He counted down for Henry who jumped in excitement when he saw how smoothly the plane coasted the air and down the hill. It only went a few feet but Henry was ecstatic that it worked. You watched them interact together from your spot on the blanket. A smile started forming on your face, unbeknownst to you as your heart leaped at how your son already took a liking to Thomas.

“He asked dad to teach him last week…but dad was too busy,” Elizabeth said quietly. You turned your head to look at her as your hand was petting her beautiful long hair.

“Too busy?” You repeated, wondering what on earth had his attention rather than focusing on his kids.  

“Yeah…He works a lot, always running his bakery and having meetings with the men he works with,” She said, you had to refrain from rolling your eyes. It upset you that he fought to see his children every other week when he’s already too enveloped in his own work to ever really spend quality time with them. You cleared your throat.

“Love…does your father take you two to your lessons?" You asked. She looked up at you, squinting a bit from the sun, you took your shaded glasses off and set them over her eyes.

"Sometimes, when the bakery is super busy he forgets...or he gets one of his workers to take us," She said. This made your stomach tighten and your chest feel heavy with anger as you swallowed your words of concern and formed your lips in a tight line, but you knew deep down he cared for his family and had a huge soft spot for your children and he wouldn't put them in harms way, he was a tough, scary man on the outside and everyone knew not to fuck with him.

"Okay Love, as long as your father trusts these men, then okay but make sure you go to your lessons from now on...nag him if you have to," You mumble the last part.

After a few hours of walking along the grass and going down to the lake to look at the ducks and fish in the water, Thomas packed the car and took the drive back home. The sun was starting to set as the sky turned from a beautiful bright blue to a pink and purple sky. The all too familiar smoke of and clouds started to cover the sky the closer you got to the city. He parked the car in front of your home, the kids jumping out of the car and running inside. When the two of you stepped out of the car, he walked beside you.

"I had fun today," You smiled. "Thank you,"

"My pleasure, you deserve a break," He said. Just as you stopped at the front door you turned to him.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

---

Tag list: 

Read Pinned Post If You Would Like To Be Added

@violet-19999 @micarinitodemiel @dilfsandtherapy @shelundeadxxxx @dragons-are-my-favorite @trixie23​ 

[neopronouns]

colorgenders inspired by the results of a “What is your Aura” quiz ((https://)uquiz(.)com/quiz/pxTx2D/what-color-is-your-aura):

Sky: short poems, teacups, clear skies, diaries, dripping icicles, tears, tennis shoes.

Honeysuckle: succulents, key lime, glow-in-the-dark stars, blown glass, honeydew, garter snakes, notes in bottles.

Seafoam: clear water, milkshakes, crystals, agave, candy dishes, converse, seashells.

Yellow: daisies, road signs, bumblebees, lemon meringue, bicycles, polaroids, awnings.

Hickory: felled oak, brass, sunken ships, olive pits, graphic shirts, splinters, dark room.

Orange: guitars, fanta bottles, sunglasses, orange peels, butterflies, popsicles, paper lanterns.

Sage: herb clippings, matcha, bullet journals, mini backpacks, needle felts, pistachio, laptop stickers.

Teal: dyed hair, scales, doc martens, aurora borealis, stormy seas, kingfishers, agate. 

Royal (blue): crown jewels, portraits, satin chairs, masquerades, nebulas, betta fish, secrets.

Gold: lion statues, coins, gold leafing, bound books, goldfinches, crowns, heart lockets. 

Crimson: rose vines, blood, apples, velvet, sharp nails, galaxies, dripping jewellery.

Navy: brush strokes, suit jackets, midnight, comforters, star gazing, arctic waters, starlings.

Forest: fern leaves, greenhouses, cloaks, bookstores, pine trees, chokers, snake scales. 

honey: friendship bracelets, beehives, school buses, children's books, flower petals, honeyed toast, polaroids. 

Ashen: old newspapers, smoke, quiet cities, pale cheeks, pebbles, chalk, the clouded moon.

Garnet: Brooches, anthologies, stained glass, leaves, dining chairs, long robes, curtains.

Chiffon: stone walls, sweaters, moths, dusty lace, animal tracks, incense, throw pillows.

Red: leather jackets, cherries, bruised knuckles, roses, lipstick, fast cars, rose petals.

Magenta: splattered paint, glitter, childhood friends, neon, pleather, dance floors, crystals.

Amaranth: bundled flowers, ribbon, merlot, overcoats, gemstones, lipstick prints, red velvet.

Periwinkle: knit hats, candies, tiny flowers, beads, teacups, washi tape, clouds.

Jade: islands, sketchbooks, rainy windows, pendants, puzzle pieces, tree frogs, sea glass.

Pink: cupcakes, sunglasses, pink sands, starbursts, pinky promises, flower crowns, ice cream.

Rose: lace, blown kisses, milk tea, paper fans, pillows, ballet slippers, fairy wings.

Amethyst: earrings, violet corts, parades, gemstones, insect wings, grape bushels, outer space.

Noir: drops of ink, eyeliner, crows, spiders, charcoal, painted nails, the night.

Cream: dandelions, marble, bottled coffee, hair ties, banana cream, bedsheets, sketches. 

Beige: lattes, dry fields, footprints, easels, cat fur, pottery, fresh-baked cookies.

Pearl: abalone, perfume bottles, chandeliers, tulle, ball jointed dolls, satin, paint palettes. 

Bronze: leather books, cowboy hats, foxes, candle jars, sword hilts, cobblestone streets, hourglasses

Amber: autumn days, freckles, torches, cabins, fossils, unbrushed hair, enamel pins.

Fire: sunrises, woven blankets, campfires, tigers, whiskey, monarchs, road trips.

Purple: geodes, club lights, ferris wheels, sunglasses, hummingbirds, eyeshadow, outer space. 

Blush: lollipops, warm cheeks, lip gloss, flowers, flamingo feathers, painted nails, heart glasses.

finally done with all of these — they're queued!

[racfoam]

I have this vague idea of a fic of Harry getting her memories erased but also Harry remembering things and writing things down in a notebook in her sleep of warnings to herself.

Idk, it's very vague... But in short, Voldemort trying to trick Harry into trusting him and Harry's subconscious still fighting.

It’s her own handwriting. Strange. Harry doesn’t remember getting up or writing anything in it.

Don’t let him in.

A cold shiver rushed down Harry’s spine. She read the line below.

He’s a liar. Don’t trust him.

Don't look him in the eyes.

Another sentence below.

Don’t trust anyone.

He killed —

Before Harry could read the next words, there was a knock at the doors. Quickly, she stowed the notebook and the pen where she found it, in between the mattress and the bedframe.

Harry’s mind was running, confused. Why did she write those things? Maybe she wrote them after that strange nightmare of the green light, while still half asleep... But why did she put the leather diary in such a weird place... Why did she feel the need to hide it, to keep anyone from seeing its contents.

“Who is it?”

Don’t let him in.

“It’s Narcissa, Miss Potter,” said a feminine, classy voice of Mrs Malfoy behind the doors. “May I come in?”

Harry relaxed, releasing a breath she’d been holding. Mrs Malfoy was a woman. She wasn’t a man. Harry could let Mrs Malfoy in.

“Yeah,” said Harry.

The doors opened. Mrs Malfoy stepped in. “Good morning, Miss Potter. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, ignoring the little pang of guilt for lying. Mrs Malfoy has been nothing but kind to Harry, giving her a guest bedroom. However, Harry didn’t think it was worth mentioning she was suffering from nightmares. She wasn't weak, and she didn’t need coddling.

“I’m here to help you get dressed,” said Mrs Malfoy. “The Dark Lord would like you to join him for morning tea and breakfast.”

Harry jumped off the bed, grinning. The Dark Lord — Voldemort, he'd told Harry to call him — was the one who'd found Harry and helped her in the first place. Harry found him very fascinating for both his serpentine appearance and the magic he showed her. Something Harry could do, too. Because Harry wasn’t ordinary. Harry was special. Harry was a witch.

“Really?” asked Harry, full of hope. “I mean —where? When? Now?”

Mrs Malfoy frowned. “Down on the ground floor, in the foyer, it's right after the drawing room —”

Harry, in her white, ankle-length nightie, slipped into her slippers and rushed past Mrs Malfoy, running out of the bedroom at a blinding speed.

“Thanks, Mrs Malfoy!” yelled Harry, leaving a gasping Mrs Malfoy behind, who only now realized Harry had slipped right out in front of her very eyes before she could properly react.

Smiling, Harry ran down the hallway, skipped the large navy blue marble staircase two at a time, weaved out of the way of a tiny creature with fairy, bat-like ears and tenniss-ball eyes, and yelled, “Sorry!” completely unawares the creature was staring at her in beffudlement, never having experienced anyone apologize to him before.

(You idiot. You absolute moron, Harry. What is wrong with me? Am I that dumb?)

Harry ran into the drawing room, crossed it, and noticed the foyer. She hurried out, in her slippers, in her nightclothes, hair looking windswept, and into the foyer, where Lord Voldemort sat at a round table.

(I'm that dumb.)

Red, cat-like eyes stretched slightly at the sight of Harry.

“Morning,” said Harry breathlessly.

Voldemort’s face twisted into something resembling displeasure. Rather swiftly, he shot up from the chair.

“Harriet,” he greeted. “Where is Narcissa? I sent her to you.”

“Oh," said Harry. “She did. She said you wanted to have breakfast with me. I sort of just ran past her after she said that.”

“Why did you hasten to come?” asked Voldemort, his sibilant voice resounding across Harry's skin.

To see you.

(Please, for the love of Merlin and Founders, do not say that. Do not say that.)

Harry wasn't going to say that. That’d...

“I was hungry,” she squeaked.

“Miss Potter!”

Narcissa came, panting, looking like she ran, which Harry supposed was a rarity. “Dear Merlin. It's not proper to be in your nightclothes.”

“Why?” asked Harry, confused. “I like this dress.”

Voldemort made a sound that sounded like he restrained a laugh. That made Harry's heart leap. It sounded nice. Harry wondered how Voldemort sounded when he laughed...

Mrs Malfoy frowned at her, disapproval clear and sharp in her eyes. Harry felt very scolded without knowing what she did wrong.

“It’s improper for an adult witch to be in the presence of an adult wizard in nothing but her nightdress.”

Harry blinked. Slowly, it dawned on her. The wizarding world had different customs, customs dating back to the Jane Austen era, it seemed.

Harry felt her face burn as red as a dragon fire.

“It is fine, Narcissa,” said Voldemort, before turning to face Harry, his red eyes trailing over her figure; Harry felt like his gaze was somehow undressing her.

“You look lovely, Harriet,” said Voldemort, softer than a feather. Something inside Harry's stomach fluttered.

“Come,” he said, gesturing to the chair beside his, “sit.”

“You may go, Narcissa.”

Mrs Malfoy glanced from Harry to Voldemort. Her gaze looked almost worried. However, she inclined her head, and elegantly retreated out of the foyer, closing the doors.

[soleforsoul]

[punkysdilemma-blog]

THE PERFECT WARDROBE (BY GIORGIO ARMANI)

(an excerpt from L’Etiquette issue 8.)  I love this list from a maestro and one of the last greats of the heroic 1980s fashion generation who still independently owns and operates his marque. 

I like casual and discreet elegance, this is what I look for as a designer.

T-SHIRTS AND POLO SHIRTS

*Cashmere jersey t-shirts. Blue, black, long and short sleeves, CREW NECK!

*Knit polo shirts. More refined than cotton pique polo shirts, they look great under a jacket. Practically indispensable in black and navy. Long or short sleeves.

SHIRTS

*Poplin shirts.  With big collars, wear with a tie or with the collar wide, open. Colors? Blue and white are musts. Cream, light gray and navy are very tempting this season. + AZURE

*Chambray shirt. Go for a real workwear look. 

Extras:

*Heavy twill shirt.

*Black linen shirt. Get over your prejudice against linen. + WHITE AND SKY BLUE

*Collarless shirt.

*Two evening shirts in silk. Black and blue 

SWEATERS AND SWEATSHIRTS

*Several crewneck wool sweaters. Black, navy, beige, ecru — take your pick. Wear over a round collar tee.

*Several v-neck wool sweaters. Same as for crewnecks. 

*Hoodies. Gray Marl, Navy or black. Because there’ll always be those Sunday mornings.

*Crewneck Sweatshirts. Gray Marl, Navy or Black. With Raglan sleeves, of course. 

Extras: 

*Merino wool polo collar sweater. Black or navy.

*Sailor Sweater. You’ll find you need it even between April and July. Easier to wear if you get one without stripes.

Note: Pretty sure this is basically a Guernsey or Matelot. 

SUITS, BLAZERS AND TIES 

*A velvet suit. Velvet is the most elegant fabric. 

*Two plain suits. One navy and one gray, with two or three buttons. Ideally made from Fresco fabric. Cotton is another possibility if you're not afraid of creases. 

*A full Tuxedo. At least one. 

*A navy blazer. Lined or unlined. Super-useful.

*Two silk grenadine ties. Blck and navy. Obviously. 

*Two printed ties. Go crazy!

Extras:

*Beige tropical wool suit. Wear it with a sky blue poplin shirt. 

*Silk knit tie. Cream or pearl gray. Makes a change from black or navy. 

*Unlined suede blazer. 

*A knit blazer. 

SUITS, BLAZERS AND TIES

*Bomber jacket. The summer equivalent of your leather jacket. Black, navy or beige. 

*Waterproof beige trench-coat. For rainy days. Get one thats too big. 

*Technical parka.  Zip it all the way up. And remember that Gore-Tex is always a good idea. 

*Denim jacket. 

Extras:

*Zip suede bomber.

*Nappa leather trench-coat. 

*A military jacket. Vintage preferably. 

*Lightweight windbreaker. Go for the retro sportswear look. 

PANTS AND SHORTS

*Two pairs of regular fit jeans. At two different stages of wear.

*Five-pocket white cotton pants. Indispensable in winter. Downright vital in summer. 

*Five-pocket black cotton pants.

*Beige chinos. Not slim, please.

*Gray fresco pants. Wear them as you'd wear jeans. Suitable for both summer and winter. 

*Navy, Beige or White shorts. Roomy, more fluidity, please!

*Swim shorts. In a technical nylon, perhaps in a bright color. roomy but not long.

Extras:

*Cargo Pants. Olive green, in ripstop fabric if you like. 

UNDERWEAR

As far as the great boxers-or-briefs debate goes, we leave it up to you. But do us all a favour and throw out the invisible socks.

*Several pears of navy and grey socks. Made of mercerised cotton. 

*Several pairs of brightly coloured socks. 

Extras:

*A few pairs of white or off-white ribbed socks. Wool and cotton. 

SHOES

*A pair of loafers. Preferably penny loafers. Black should be your first choice. 

*Black oxfords. For formal wear. 

*Brown derbies. Can be suede, if you like. 

*A pair of white or off white canvas sneakers.

*A pair of white leather sneakers. 

*Technical sneakers. Not just for running. 

Extras: 

*Opera pumps 

*Velvet slippers 

ACCESSORIES

*Cotton baseball cap. Navy or black. 

*Woven belt. In black or navy for versatility. 

*Leather dress belt. Keep it thin, about an inch (2 to 3cm) wide, and wear it with a suit. 

*Metal Sunglasses. Aviator or round styles. 

*Heavy-duty canvas shoulder bag. For workdays. 

*Military kitbag. A travel bag to get you through the weekend. 

Extras:

*A borsalino hat.

*Silk pocket squares. Collect them!

*Scarves. In wool, silk, cotton, for days and night.

*All kind of gloves. 

*Ranger belt. 

*A leather messenger bag.

Be discreet and precise and if you manage that, people will remember your style!

[hi7028]

Christmas wishlist/ or just a wishlist 

Clothes: 

Denim low waist jeans

Navy blue of the shoulder sweater

Denim skirt

Ralph Lauren sweater

Brandy sweatpants 

White fox hoodie

Stussy hoodie 

Brown Leather jacket 

America flag sweater

Lululemon Align Jacket

Lululemon Leggins

The number t-shirt 

Baby tees

White linen pants

Skims sweat seat

Cute summer tops 

Nike brown sweater

Essentials hoodie

The north face jacket

Jott jacket 

Blue banana sweater

Camo sweater 

Cold culture sweater

Victoria’s Secret pjs 

Djerf Avenue robe

Puffer jacket

Shoes:

Adidas handball special light blue dark blue 

Uggs ultra mini

Uggs Tasman 

Uggs razz

Uggs Tasman maxi curly

Uggs disquette 

New balance 

White and black converse

Adidas campus white and black 

Adidas gazelle black 

Birkenstocks 

Accessories:

Beige Stanley 

Tiffany necklace

Lululemon pouch 

Kendra Scott bracelets 

Flower claw clip 

Bows

Eight bowl keychain 

Slip scrunchies

AirPods Max

Nike socks 

The tote bag Marc Jacob’s 

Diesel belt 

Longchamp bag navy blue 

Gollard bag

Cartier watch 

Apple Pencil 

Charm necklace

Louis Vuitton wallet

Bow earrings

 iPhone case 

Vivienne Westwood necklace

Bottega earrings

 Dior bag

Dior glasses

Fuzzy socks

Awala water bottle

Simple modern tumbler

Rhode beauty phone case

Electronics:

New IPhone 

I Mac

Apple Watch 

Macbook

iPad

Kindle

Home caring:

Dyptique candle 

Blanket 

Knot blanket 

Flower pillows

Clip board

Plants

Cozy pillows

Bath thing 

Candle lamp 

New home candle

Mirror

Slippers

New vanity 

Vanity mirror

Love shack fancy bedding

Bath mat

Neon sign 

Projector

Posters (of your favourite signer) 

Cute mugs

Smeg toaster, blender.. .

Dyson floor cleaning 

Cute plates

Cute rugs

Ice maker

Mini fridge 

Bubble candle 

Recommend:

 ( urban outfitters) 

IKEA ….

Amazon 

Haircare: 

Everything from OUAI 

Gisou hair oil 

Amika products

Olaplex products

Gisou hair perfume

Sol de Janeiro shampoo 

Dry shampoo 

Monday shampoo 

Hair gel 

Dae products 

Hair mask

Scalp massages

Tangle teezer 

Wet brush 

Tree hut shampoo 

Heartless curls

Hair rods

Silk pillowcase

Leave in conditioner

Wow hairspray

Dyson air wrap

Spray bottle

Shower cap 

Blow dryer

Curling iron

Philosophy shampoo

Hair mousse

 Curl cream

Hair gel 

Pins

Hair ties

Hair straightener

Living proof products

Emi Jay hairbrush 

Scalp care

Maui shampoo

Dae hair cream

Get ready with me pins

Microfiber towel 

Hair serum

Hairspray

Bamboo brush 

Gratitude journal

K18 shampoo

Body products: 

Eos lotion

Tree hut sugar scrubs 

Body Gua sha

Brazilian bum bum cream 

Sol de janeiro perfume 

Victoria’s Secret perfume

Rare Beauty hand cream

Vaseline

Supergoop sun cream 

Summer fridays sun cream

Dry wash 

Body lotion 

Soap bar

Body wash 

Dry brush 

Body oil 

Frenshe body spray

Truly shave butter

Shaver

Sundae whip foam

Touch land hand sanitizer 

Loccitaine shea bitter hand cream 

Loccitaine shower oil 

Deodorant

Skincare 

The ordinary serum 

Tower 28 facial spray 

Tatcha moisturizer

Avatara face mask

Glow recipe toner

Youth to the people cleanser

Caudalie face mist

Drunk elephant hydration serum 

Bronze drops 

Glow recipe Watermelon dew drops 

Ilia face milk 

Tropicals dark sports discoloration 

Milk cooling water

Mighty patches

Razor sets

Gua sha 

Makeup brushes

Cleansing pad

Charlotte Tillbury magic serum 

Tatcha cleanser

Tropicals eye masks

Dr. Jart+ face masks

Mario badescu face spray 

Micellar water

Face wash

Rare Beauty mist

Drunk elephant moisturizer

Tower 28 gel cleanser

One size setting spray 

Charlotte tillbury setting spray

Rhode skincare

Makeup: 

Ilia foundation 

All the summer Fridays lip balms 

Benefit cosmetics cookie highliter

Rare beauty blush 

Tower 28 gloss

Yves saint Laurent lip oil stick 

Patrick ta blushes

Huda beauty setting powder

Laneige balm 

Rare beauty highliter

Refy gloss

Saie blush 

Charlotte tillbury pillow talk lipstick& liner set

Glossier lip balms 

Milk makeup jelly tints

Refy primer

Milk primer 

NARS concealer 

Gisou lip oils

Hoola bronzer

Shesheido eyelash curler

Rare beauty lip oil 

Benefit cosmetics brow gel 

Makeup by Mario brush sticks 

Dior lip glow oils

Haus labs lip oils

Pillow talk blushes

Benetint 

Laneige lip sleeping mask

The ordinary lash and brow serum 

Ilia mascara

Anastasia mascara

Cotton Pads

Tarte plump gloss

Dior blush 

Kosas concealer

Refy brush 

Patrick ta brush

Sol de Janeiro Brazilian kiss

Saie brush

Rhode pocket blush 

Rhode lip tint

Toys: 

Squishmellows 

Jelly cats

Sonny angels

Gift cards: 

Target 

Starbucks 

Sephora

American Eagle

Aritzia

Aerie 

Lululemon 

Hollister

Bath an body works 

Apple

Handmade: 

Cards ( bows, flowers, creative) 

Personalized mugs 

Books: 

One of us is lying 

The summer I turned pretty

The princess diaries

The summer of broken rules

Snacks: 

Sour patch

Oreos

Goldfish 

Starburts 

Nerds

Haribo

Homemade cookies

Snickers

Kit Kat

Cotton candy 

Matcha lovers:

Matcha powder

Cute mug 

Matcha kit 

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Blue's Rose - Chapter 22 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Boys Will Not Apologize

Blue Cavanaugh & Kulap 'Kool' Somboon

Kulap woke the next morning more refreshed than he expected his body more replete than it had ever been had sunk to the depths of slumber, he had had zero dreams that he could remember, leaving his mind this morning curiously alert and still relaxed.

Even his body, he realized as he tentatively made his first movements to sit up in bed, was no longer stiff and hurting.

Relieved that the inconvenient, not to mention somewhat embarrassing pain no longer aggravated him, he bounded out of bed, feeling good, alive

He crossed the room naked and headed straight into the shower, scrubbing, washing his hair completed in no time, he exited to shave and brush his teeth, dabbing on his habitual cologne, thinking about Blue as he did so and how much he said he loved the way Kulap smelled.

Kulap grinned at his reflection in the mirror for a second, enjoying these intimate thoughts of Blue, something he had never had before, always a one-sided infatuation, never a tangible reality, until now, the experience was exhilarating.

Kulap went to his closet and began to pull out one of his habitual black suits, mostly only what he owned but at the last second his eyes caught sight of a suit he had never worn before and he pulled it out, feeling it suited his mood more to wear today than the black.

Though not boldly colorful or even remotely anything other than conservative he pulled on the navy-blue pin stripe suit and coupled it with a light pink dress shirt and a tie with the colors of both as well as thin little white lines to complete the look.

He slipped on his slippers and grabbed up a pair of hand stitched black leather Gucci's to finish the ensemble.

With a last look at his full-length reflection, he walked out the bedroom door and headed towards the dining room for breakfast.

His mother was already seated, she didn't say a word to him, her face clearly expressing her continued anger with him,.

Kulap simply nodded, he was in too good a mood to get caught up in a repeat of last night, he sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee as Mina, one of the kitchen servants brought him his breakfast, he kept his face buried in the financial newspaper while he ignored his mother as thoroughly as she ignored him.

He was almost finished eating when his father arrived, as usual he neither addressed Kulap or his wife, he sat down and immediately picked up his morning paper and began to read while his food was served to him.

Finished and more than ready to vacate the premises, Kulap excused himself and stood, as he did so his father spoke to him.

"Be on time for the Volsco meeting," he ordered.

"Your uncles will be in at nine. Be sure to meet them."

Kulap's hand resting on the back of his chair fisted into a white-knuckle grip, the only words he spoke though were, 'Of course'.

He bowed and said his goodbyes to both of his parents before turning and walking away, noting that neither responded.

He gritted his teeth as he walked to the SUV, he was a grown man, had been successful in orchestrating dozens of business deals worth millions and suddenly his father feels the need to remind him of his duties.

When would it stop?

The next several hours flew by as he did his customary Monday morning run through with his office staff, followed by a review of this morning's meeting, followed by calls and the ultimate meeting of his family members who would be participating in this morning's deal, which included both of his uncles, their sons and his father.

Their looks varied from scornful to smirking to resentment.

Obviously, his uncles had not appreciated his absence on Friday and his cousins either found it funny he was in trouble or resented him for getting out of the dinner when they couldn't.

No matter which way he looked at it, he had pretty much pissed off everyone one in his family.

Kulap sighed as he ignored the pettiness of their behavior and instead inundated them with every statistical element of the deal he could whether they needed the information or not as well as proceeded to verbally explain detail by detail all of the steps that had been or will be taken to solidify the deal as well as the exorbitant amount of money the family stood to gain once the other member had signed their name to the contract which was set to happen within the hour.

Usually these meetings would not have taken so long nor would he have given as much detail but all things considered he thought he deserved to have his moment and they deserved to have to sit there and take it.

That went a long way to cheering him back up since this morning's breakfast.

Deal done, paperwork signed, his uncles once again on cloud nine as what they care about most, their profits, were once again growing and they conceded, in good hands.

His father's austere nod in his direction, Kulap's only indication that he was pleased, rounded out the first half of his day.

***********

Kulap's stomach growled and was just about to order a sandwich, when a light perfunctory knock on the door sounded and a prettily clad Mia came bouncing across the threshold with a sunny smile across her face.

He had forgotten.

Saturday when they had spoken on the phone Mia had asked to meet for lunch on Monday as she wanted to get caught up on all the Blue news.

He had quickly agreed and told her to stop by at... he glanced down at his watch, now, he thought, seeing it was noon but he had forgotten completely about it because once he had gotten off the phone with Mia things with Blue had taken a wrong turn and then another until suddenly the wrong turns had become right and they had wound up in bed.

He could honestly say he hadn't thought about her since. He grimaced and she laughed.

"You forgot me, didn't you?"

He wrinkled his nose and stretched out his arms, palms up.

"My apologies," he said clearly having no defense. Mia giggled up at him.

"I'll forgive you as long as you're still taking me to eat. I'm..."

"Hungry?" Kulap completed for her.

Mia giggled at him, again.

"How did you guess?"

Kulap shook his head at her.

"Because it is a perpetual state with you. I would be extremely worried if the first words you said to me didn't have anything to do about food," he teased. Mia simply shrugged.

"I have a fast metabolism," she said innocently, not willing to ever admit that she was renowned foodie even to Kulap who already knew.

Kulap sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Let's go," he ordered, escorting her out his office.

Fifteen minutes later they sat across from each other at a tiny deli that served Mia's favorite mini sandwiches with fresh fruits and salads.

Eating healthier to Mia, meant she could eat more.

Kulap no longer tried to tell her the error in her thinking, He simply went along with it now, Her clothes would let her know soon enough.

"What?" she mumbled around a dainty bite of her salmon salad croissant.

They were sitting at a small rectangular table that only seats two in front of a large clean window that allowed all of the natural sunlight to filter through the special UV tint placed on the windows.

Whereas they could see all of the people on the outside, no one could see them eating inside.

The atmosphere was soft and casual, friendly and inviting, decorated in yellows and white, the smell of fresh baked breads heavenly as soon as you walked in.

"So," Mia suddenly drawled out, her voice getting softer so as not to carry further than their table.

"How are things going with Mister tall, dark and American?" she whispered, a knowing grin on her face.

Kulap's face remained bland and looked a little bored.

Mia frowned back looking disappointed, That was not the response she was hoping for.

"Blue is fine," he replied, doing his best to look nonchalant.

Though he always told Mia everything he wasn't sure what he wanted to tell her about Blue, It was too new and personal.

"Oh, I sure know that boy is fine," Mia rejoined a wicked teasing glint in her eyes.

Kulap blushed in response, it was sudden, it was unexpected and he couldn't prevent it, Mia, watching him like a hawk, giggled and wagged her finger at him.

"I knew it," she gasped.

"Trying to be all indifferent when just the thought of how hot he is, is turning you so red right now," she teased.

"Hmm," she murmured.

"There is definitely something different about you today," she declared, leaning in closer to him and studying his face.

Her eyes roaming over every minute detail of his face looking for a sign of weakness that she could take advantage of.

Her eyes suddenly sparkled and she leaned in closer.

"And is that a hickey on your neck?" she suddenly whispered, her finger pointing toward his neck.

Appalled, Kulap reared back and placed his hands around his neck, he hadn't seen anything earlier, he had actually looked very carefully before he even left the hotel last night.

Though there were other marks on his body, he had double checked that there was nothing obvious that his mother could see.

Mia started giggling immediately.

"I'm just teasing," she confessed around her giggles, making Kulap flop back in his chair, his face frowning in disapproval at her, his heart racing in relief.

She laughed harder and wagged her finger at him.

"I just said that to see how you would react," she admitted with a grin.

"Considering your response," she mused.

"I'd say you have a lot to tell. So, fess up. Start talking."

[dplaugher]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Gucci Angel Heels Platforms Leather T-Strap Feline Head.

[writerleo86]

Terravenger - Season 5: Part Two - The Beau Ravenstone Crisis Arc - Episode 409 [Edited] (Do Not Copy)

   Later in the evening, the faithful lieutenant Victoria stood at the large desk in the Principal's Office of the Academy. She was accompanied by the other eight commanders who each stood at their office on a large bubble that floated before Victoria.

   The individual whose image was on the bubble floating at the far-right side was Commander Asia Monroe. She was a woman with brown skin, dark-brown eyes, and puffy black hair. She had on a short, teal-colored top with black protectors on the breast area. She wore a pair of tight black pants and short boots that were made of black leather. She also had her CAF badge on the left side of her chest. And she wore an opened purple jacket with long sleeves.

   Another person on the next bubble was the outspoken Steven Ban. He was an older man with short gray hair, blue eyes, and peach skin. He wore a light-blue shirt with a thick silver collar, white pants, and white boots. He also had on a long-sleeved white coat with gray covering each shoulder. And his AAF badge was placed on the front left part of his coat.

   The next one was the determined Aurah Glen. She was a slender woman with pale skin, blue eyes, and short brown hair that was slicked back. She wore a brown top with a sleeve covering her right arm while the other was black. She had on short orange bottoms that were puffy while light-orange leggings were worn beneath. She also had on a pair of brown slippers and a thick golden belt with a large silver compartment as a buckle. And her QAF badge was on the right side of her chest.

   On another bubble was the serene Eudial Koel. She was a beautiful woman with a slender body, fair skin, and long blond hair. She had silver eyes with blue pupils. She also had on black eyeliner and red lipstick. She wore a long red dress with long brown sleeves. On the left side of her chest was her GAF badge. She also had on dark leggings and long black boots. And she had on a pair of golden earrings.

   Beside her was the younger Patricius Kelly. He had brown eyes and fair skin. And his head is nearly bald. He wore a collared white shirt underneath a zipped brown jacket that had a long silver pad on the top of each shoulder. He also had on a pair of navy-blue pants, short black boots, and long black gauntlets. And his KAF badge was placed on the front left side of his jacket.

   The commander whose image was on the middle bubble was the wise elder, Rubeus Finley sitting on a chair. He had dark skin and a thin body. He was also a tall person with brown eyes that were covered by glasses with black lens. He had slick gray hair that went to his neck. And he had a thin mustache. He wore a collared black shirt with a light-gray vest and a long purple necktie. He also had on a long purple coat and a pair of purple dress-shoes. And his NAF badge was placed on the left side of his chest.

   The next one was the emotionless Cama Veil. He was a well-built man with fair skin and blue eyes. His dark hair was short with the sides shaved off. And he had a thin beard. He had his large tattoo of a flame coming up from his left wrist. He wore a white T-shirt underneath a sleeveless dark-brown flak-jacket with a silver collar. On the right sleeve of his shirt was a four-fingered blue claw printed while a curled red line was on the left shoulder. On the bottom left side of his jacket was a pale-pink bird-like creature while a three-fingered green claw was on the right side. He also had on black pants with a pale-violet symbol printed on the left leg. He had a thick golden belt with a silver squared buckle and a pair of short black boots. And his PAF badge was placed on the left side of the chest area.

   The individual whose image floated at the far-left side was a middle-aged man with light skin and bright blue eyes. He had short dark hair with a thick beard. And he was well-built. He wore a collared blue shirt underneath a sleeveless black suit that had black armor at the top. And an OAF badge was placed on the center of the chest area. He also had on a pair of black pants and short brown boots. And he wore an opened blue tailcoat with white at the chest area.

   The elder Finley informed Victoria "It's true, Midas Lieutenant. My scientists discovered the pod on our doorstep those many years ago."

   "I remember hearing about that," claimed Koel. "This happened probably three months after the battle with the vampires ended. It was a big scandal back then."

   And Finley thought to himself for a moment.

Finley's thoughts:

Fifteen years ago, there was a grueling war taking place all over the state of South Carolina. Many people fought either inside buildings, on top of buildings, at parks, and many forests.

At the middle of Finlay Park in Columbia, a large coffin made of silver metal was slowly placed underground by magic. And soldiers surrounding the site began to bury the site by putting dirt in the top with either shovels or machinery.

   The elder informed everyone "I was actually there in South Carolina as one of the captains. It was indeed a hellish war against that brat Naigahata."

   "So was I," said Ban.

   "That pod," responded Finley. "It had someone inside, according to the Neptune scientists."

   "Inside the pod was our special guest," reported Victoria. "Someone who knows more about an enemy that Commander Ravenstone encounter long ago with generals Redbourne, Panel, and my father."

   "You must mean the Cyberian Empire," implied Cama.

   "Yes Pluto Commander," answered Victoria. "I remember my commander had mentioned them before. But not many of us at the Midas Armed Forces know about them."

   And a stern Cama said "This grueling war happened when my mentor was still in command."

   "Yes, Commander Darkholme," implied Finley. "He was the head captain during that time. That was when Beau was still a young chick."

   "But Commander Ravenstone," informed Victoria. "According to both Simms and Chaolan, my commander doesn't remember much from that war. It was the event was completely wiped from his memory."

   "Darkholme told me a little of the war while I was a student at my academy," said Cama. "He made sure I knew about these guys. They are a murderous bunch with one mind. And each of them is linked to some network that was made by their creator."

   "Seven of Nine said their creator was a she."

   "Now that's new information," replied Patricius. "Who is this person? This Seven of Nine?"

   Victoria shook her head and reported "He happens to be the seventh of nine cyborgs that were created by their creator using both biological and mechanical parts. Most of those that attacked our nations were only drones. We of the Midas Armed Forces did defeat two of the nine lieutenants. And we have possession of another who came to us freely."

   And she informed Finley "Sir. Seven of Nine was the one who was inside the pod that was found by your scientists."

Terravenger -- Season 5: Part Two -- Episode 409:  The Stolen Pod; Retrieving a Friend

   "Seven of Nine?" asked the new commander. "Did he defect from the empire?"

   "It appears he has, Commander Rudas," reported Victoria. "In fact, he was the one who saved both my counselor and one of our students from one of the two lieutenants."

   A saddened Ban lowered his head and replied "Tai was out with the good counselor Mercury during that time. The loss must be tearin' Beau up."

   "Poor Beau," cried Koel. "That's why he shut himself from everyone at his home. I can tell this is horrible for him and his family."

   A mourning Victoria lowered her head and added "Counselor Fakinos hasn't come in. He was not even at the funeral."

   "Mercury," implied Asia. "He must be going through a hard time himself."

   "Indeed, Commander Monroe," Victoria informed her. "The Counselor blames himself for the death of Tai Ravenstone. I just hope he hasn't had a breakdown."

   "Yes," said Asia. "Mercury is prone to have those, especially if people close to him are suffering."

   After that, Finley shook his head and faced the worried Victoria.

   "Victoria," He responded. "I need you to listen to me."

   "What is it, Mr. Finley?" asked Victoria.

   And Finley told her "We of Neptune did find the pod with that young one in there back in the day. But the pod was bought off by someone else."

   "What?" cried Victoria.

   "It was swiped from us," continued Finley. "I did what I could to keep it. But the head scientist decided that he wanted to get rich quick. So, he let these people take that pod away."

   A disgusted Ban turned away and cried "Teacher! You don't mean that guy got you! He bought the pod from your men?"

   "No way!" cried Koel.

   "It's true," claimed Finley. "And Vickie! This snob's from your neck of the woods."

   He lowered his head and told Victoria "Vickie! The bastard that took the pod was none other than the Money Devil himself!"

   A frozen Victoria took a few steps away and cried "No! Him? He took it? He had the pod?"

   "Yes Vickie!" replied Finley. "It's him! It's that Ashton Deacon!"

   Riding toward the Jordan Airport was a long black limousine.

   Once the vehicle parked at the front of the building, two men dressed in black suits and wearing black glasses had hurried out from the front of the vehicle.

   Before one of them could open the right door at the back of the limousine, a small pool of water lifted before the suited men. A small swarm of green eels emerged from underwater. Each of the legless creatures wrapped around the ankles of each man. And the eels began shocking them with electricity.

   After that, a figure flashed before one of the suited men. The quick figure was revealed as the collected soldier, Ayr Alistar. He was a young man with pale skin, clear turquoise eyes, and long teal hair that was slicked back. He wore a black uniform with long sleeves, long leggings, and silver designs. He had on a pair of short black boots. And he had his MAF badge placed on the left side of his chest. He also wore an opened black coat with a large silver pad on his right shoulder. And a long purple scarf was wrapped around his neck.

   Ayr attacked the unarmed man by patting the chest with a soft Right Palm. And that suited man slowly fell face down.

   Another figure landed before the other man and threw a heavy uppercut with their Right Fist. The suited man launched into the air and landed face up on the ground.

   After that, Ayr opened the right door of the vehicle. He soon found someone laying on the comfortable seats.

   The individual was a terrified Pacey Deacon with his mouth wrapped in tape. He was an older youth with shining blue eyes, fair skin, and short dark hair. And he was growing a thin beard. He wore a white outfit that resembled an inmate from a sanitarium. He also had on a pair of long white socks. And he wore a pair of gray slippers.

   A scared Pacey tried to back away as a calm Ayr lowered to him.

   "It's alright Deacon," He told Pacey. "You are safe now. We have come to take you to the Academy."

   And a frightened Pacey spotted both Ayr and his partner.