#did I mention he had a cowboy phase

[seraphic-saphic]

~ spoilers for eldermourne below ~

zirk virvain is just the archetype of the mad Victorian scientist but. morally good. like. he drinks piss. he has mommy issues and a gun. his experiments give him free ombre hair dye. he injects sludge into his friends. he got beat up by 40 year old children. twice. he chews on a stirring rod during autopsies. he had sex through a magic bag one time. he found the cure to death. he didn't even bother testing it he just straight up died and it worked. he technically didn't kill god but his friends killed god's daughter which is close enough.

[pigdemonart]

So Scarlet and Violet's Indigo disk dlc has introduced Lacey (Beautiful perfect angel) and it's implied she is Clay's daughter

What do you there relationship is like? Do you think Clay whould be a good dad?

hahaha i have been tweeting about this actually. First link is a joke, but you should still click it lol

I always thought of Clay as an unofficial father of the region, so YEAH!! The news made perfect sense to me! I do believe its been confirmed also and it’s not just implied.

I ramble about clay for paragraphs:

I like to imagine Lacey and Clay have a good relationship. We can see from her design, she is wearing hair clips that match the gems Lian and Clay wear, which is super cute! Confirmed family tradition, like I theorized hehe!

Clay seems like the kind of dad that is blunt and straight to the point, but would spoil and support wholeheartedly! He’s a “down to earth” (haha) pragmatic kind of guy, telling everyone the hard truths when they need to hear it and not mincing words. Like you’re a kid when you meet him and he’s like whats up dummy, you fucked up. I imagine Lacey is fully used to this attitude and doesn’t get phased by it much. She probably tells people with a wave of a hand that her dad is actually quite nice, you just gotta cut through the hard exterior first.

I like to imagine Lacey got her drilbur (excadrill) from her dad (maybe a starter) but not just as a gift — she had to prove that she was ready to be a trainer! And she did, because she’s Clay’s daughter and Lian’s descendant so nice as she looks she must be headstrong as shit.

Like I can’t see Clay being a pushover dad, even if we imagine he calls Lacey petnames like “princess.” Personally, I always saw Clay as a little chivalrous with girls and femmes, in that Southern cowboy kind of way. I’m sure that comes through whenever he is decidedly softer with his own daughter.

Also Lacey lives in Nimbasa and uses fairy type, so she is clearly a kid that has her own ambitions and dreams. Which is why I imagine (if she has good relationship with her dad) that Clay must fully support it. Rocks and mining have been in the family since Lian’s time, so it’s possible she isn’t really interested in inheriting Clay’s business and has different goal for herself. Maybe there was some tension with this and maybe they butted heads, but I’m sure it could be worked out.

Would be cool to imagine her as the future Fairy type gym leader of Unova. That being said, I don’t think she’s against or ashamed of it. Her hair clips prove she’s proud of her origins after all!!

Also Clay sent his little girl to this new fancy shmancy school UNDER THE OCEAN, and sure its a little flashy, but he cares about her being educated and kicking other kids’ ass. Before she left he was probably like “give ‘em hell!” and she furrowed her bushy eyebrows like >:)))

Now ahem…obviously I still ship Clay x Drayden, this hasn’t really changed anything for me LOL in fact it makes it very interesting, because Drayden also has a confirmed grandson. Old man yaoi is still old man yaoi even if they’re bisexual, but also surrogates are a thing, not to mention divorce arc maybe??? All great, big fan. 👍

Tldr: YEa HE’S A COOL DAD.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

i mentioned cowboy childe once upon a time and uhhhh he hasn’t left my brain Ꮚ•ꈊ•✿Ꮚ

˚✧₊• cowboy childe… he’s a menace, to say the least. that’s not to say he’s an all around terrible guy, he does have his own moral code, but to anyone wanting a calm or more standard lifestyle he’s off the rails.

he more or less developed a reputation as a wanderer who ‘dealt’ with all problems he deemed necessary; typically injustice towards the poor or disposing of generally unsavoury characters. if someone who knew something about something caught wind of him heading through town, it was guaranteed to cause a stir. an expensive glass of whisky and all the details was everything he needed to get to work. though, not all of his jobs were of a violent nature. he could often be found hired by elderly farmers to care for their cattle for a couple days or playing games to amuse local children who absolutely adore his tales of adventure.

enter, you. the simple clerk of a boutique and tailor in a growing frontier town. you mainly specialize in refitting garments and accessories of all varieties but occasionally take on more complex custom pieces as you have the steadiest hand in the shop. it had been a cool spring afternoon when he walked in. immediately, the small chatter and giggles leaking through the building halted but he didn’t seem phased. you supposed this happened often for him given the reputation he carries. his boots clacked loudly as he walked to your counter, knuckles tapping the brim of his hat further up to get a better look at you. with a face of freckles, sunshine, and open skies, he requested your work for a new holster. one beautifully crafted of leather, silver hardware, and sinew but ornately stitched and with plenty of room for bullets. he proudly showed you the colt revolver he carried with a wooden handle he’d carved himself while travelling. you weren’t one to decline any work, so you took up the project, much to his delight.

it was hard to find you working without Ajax hanging around afterwards. whether it was him bringing you some fresh fruit or inviting you out to the saloon after the day, he seemed to have grown quite fond of you and you’d be lying if you claimed not to like him as well. perhaps he had blood on his hands but you admired his perseverance and dedication to bringing equality to towns that needed it. after one particular trip to the saloon, he took you back to where he was staying with hands never leaving your body.

for a man so isolated, he sure knew where to touch. with calloused finger tips and chapped lips he brought you a kind of pleasure only comparable to a personal heaven. having those same sunburnt shoulders and star kissed cheeks between your legs or above your body was a celestial experience, one you didn’t think you could let go off. one you ached for already knowing he’d depart once you finished his commission. one you wanted to sew into a garment only to be worn by yourself. it was a love felt in the marrow of your bones and by whatever god out there did you not want to let go. you knew you couldn’t dawdle on the project as you needed to make money but a couple cents lost meant nothing should he stick around for a little longer.

if only you knew how he planned to settle not only in your heart but also in your little town but, he found your desperation cute. Ajax couldn’t wait to show you the draft for your new home. <3

[headfullofpresley]

𝐉𝐨𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 | 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: joe being joe, some inaccurate plot/details of the movie, made some things up myself bc this movie is horrible lol, tiny mention of animal slaughtering, rodeo rider!elvis, lil bit of smut; public sex, mention of pregnancy. the ending is meh but had to end it bc i could go on about this man for hours. ☻

A/N: stay away joe is one of my least fave movies, but i have a weird relationship with it - hate it, but will never stop rewatching bc GOOD GOD, joe lightcloud is a stunner.

masterlist

You work as a bartender at the local bar that is owned by Glenda Callahan.

Because Mamie was obsessed with Joe, she sent the girl off to the big city to live with an aunt.

You and Glenda got along well, so when she offered you to move into her daughter's room, you accepted.

The job was dull, only serving coffee and breakfast to locals that were on their way to the city or dinner to strangers that were passing through.

Glenda wasn't surprised when Joe wandered in the bar and had his sights set on you like you were a juicy piece of meat sizzling on the BBQ.

You weren't her daughter, so she couldn't say anything, but she did warn you about the cowboy casanova.

“Don’t worry, Miss Glenda. He’s gonna have to work for it,”

You weren't as desperate as Mamie, but you could understand why the younger girl had been.

With his tanned skin and cowboy hat resting atop of his head, he was just breathtaking.

But you had heard the stories about Joe Lightcloud and even though you were already planning on having a piece of him, you weren't going to throw yourself at him like all the other girls did.

“Didn’t know they sold shorts as tiny as those,” he'd grin smugly, shamelessly leaning over the bar to take a peek at your exposed legs due to the denim shorts you were wearing.

Arizona was hot, nobody wore jeans unless they'd be breaking bones at the rodeo.

Acting like you weren't phased by his actions or his words, you put a drink in front of him and leaned your hands on the bar with a grin lingering on your face.

“They exiled me outta the city for ‘em,”

You weren't even from the city, but he didn't know that. He moved back onto his family's reservation recently and had never seen you around before despite you growing up in the area.

“Uptight, those city folk,” he’d tease back, that grin never faltering. “How ‘bout you, honey? Are you uptight?”

Giving him an innocent shrug and a little smile, you kept your lips sealed and continued cleaning the bar, letting him use the phone which was the reason why he came in here in the first place.

He could easily use the phone in other places, but he came to the bar pretty much every day after meeting you.

He'd tell you it was because the bar was closer than the stores in town and while you knew that was true, you also knew you were the reason for him coming to your work place.

You didn't mind at all. You were bored out of your mind half the day, so you started looking forward to seeing him and talking to him.

He'd try to win you over, pulling out his best pick up lines and putting on his best smiles.

They made your knees buckle behind the bar every time, but this was a man that had girls falling for him in the matter of seconds and you wanted to see if he was willing to put in an actual effort.

He never met anyone like you and even though he never had to work for a girl's attention, he was determined to win you over.

When his family was granted twenty heifers and a bull to prove that they could raise cattle, he invited you to the party he was throwing at the reservation.

Being the only employee at the bar, you didn't know if Glenda would allow you time off but she fell for your puppy eyes and sweet smile and gave you two days off.

You should've known this wouldn't be a normal party.

It lasted throughout the entire weekend, with people sleeping under the blazing sun during the day and drinking and dancing all night.

All Joe's friends and family demanded his attention but he always found his way back to you, providing you with drinks and introducing you to people.

He'd shamelessly introduce you as ‘his girl’ to everyone and they all believed it.

All your chances of becoming friends with the girls who were there flew right out of the window, because they'd give you dirty looks every time you'd smile at them.

“I ain’t your girl, Joe,” you'd remind him but all he did was laugh and wrap his arm around your waist, giving you that cocky grin.

“Give it time, honey. Give it time,”

You'd roll your eyes but on the inside, you were screaming like a little girl because you knew he was dead serious.

Disaster struck when Bronco, one of Joe's friends, accidentally slaughtered and barbecued the only bull in the herd instead of one of the heifers.

The bull that was supposed to help the Lightcloud's provide for themselves with the cattle they could sell.

Not long after the party, Glenda fired you because you start neglecting the bar to spend more time with Joe.

He borrowed a bull from a friend that's supposed to do the job, but the poor thing would sleep all day and not move a muscle.

Slowly but surely, you moved onto the reservation. His family liked you and at least now Joe didn't have to face the lazy bull on his own.

“C’mon, boy, get your fat ass up,”

He'd tug on the bull's head, trying to lift it from the ground and to get him to stand up or at least move, but nothing was working.

“Joe! Be nice to him, he has feelings, you know?” you'd yell at him as you sat on top of the fence, swinging your legs back and forth while watching him struggle.

“Yeah only not the right feelings,” though the words came out as a mumble, you still heard them and he'd send you a sneaky wink.

“Look here, Dominick! You little fucker,” walking over to one of the heifers, he lands a slap on the rear of it. “All these lovely ladies are willin’,”

Scrunching your nose, you shook your head. “You’re horrible at this,”

Standing up straight with an amused scoff, he'd nod his head and walk over to you.

“Alright, little miss boots. Let’s see you try then,” giving you a squeeze in the cowboy boots you were wearing, he'd grin teasingly at you and lean against the fence.

You jumped off the fence and stole his hat, putting it on top of your head as you told him to watch and learn, approaching the bull.

You weren't specialized in cows or whatsoever, but you grew up around horses. You were confident enough to make this work and you wanted to see Joe's face if you managed to succeed.

Dominick was lazier than you expected but you ignored Joe's laughs and mumbled ‘told you so’s’.

You weren't giving up though and after forty minutes, the bull finally decided to get up to his feet.

“Yes, Dominick, good boy! Come here, you sweet thing!” urging the bull excitedly and sweetly, you stepped closer to the heifers.

Joe couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the bull follow you and paying attention, finally doing what he was here for.

You supressed a small squeal, clearing your throat as you walked over to Joe. Giving him a small curtsy as you dipped his hat, you'd give him your biggest and most cocky smile.

“Voila!”

“I don’t speak Italian,”

“Oh, Joe,” laughing as you took a step closer to him, you'd swing your arms around his neck and kiss him.

He would not hesitate or whatsoever at all to kiss you back, lifting you up from the ground and placing you on the fence.

It wasn't until you'd pull back from the kiss that you saw Dominick succesfully doing his job and you and Joe cheered him on the entire time.

Even though Dominick did what he needed to do that one day, the bull went right back to snoring up a storm most of the time.

Joe found out from the friend he borrowed the bull from that it was actually a rodeo prizewinning bull, so to provide for the family, he started doing rodeo shows.

Okay, he smacked the information out of his friend, but you didn't need to know that. Apparently it was enough for the dude to let Joe keep the bull, so you weren't complaining.

Whenever you weren't watching him at the rodeo, you'd be on the reservation with his family.

Now, his family was crazy but you liked them.

Grandpa Lightcloud was a grumpy old man that you didn't understand half of the time, but he liked having you around because you helped around on the property and didn't try to keep Joe away from his family.

The man would teach you how to do a rain dance and you'd show it to Joe any chance you got, making him roll over in giggles because you'd mess up some of the moves.

Teaching you properly and doing it with you in the middle of the night. You forced him to do it with you every day because Sedona, Arizona desperately needed some rain.

And when the rain came, you'd dance around in it. Usually with very little clothing on, unless the rest of the family was there.

When you did accompany him to rodeo shows, everyone knew who you belonged to because you'd be shouting the loudest to cheer him on and cussing out whoever talked shit about your man.

Sedona was a small and boring town with very little to do. While you and Joe would have dinner at one of the few restaurants now and then, the both of you preferred to go on dates that would take place outside.

Horseback riding was one of the things you'd pretty much do every day.

You'd always accept whenever he challenged you to a race, even though you knew you were bound to lose.

Sometimes he'd rub the victory in your face and sometimes he'd let you win on purpose, because he liked seeing that smug grin on your face.

“Can’t win ‘em all, Joey baby. Better luck next time,”

He absolutely hated the pet name. Would give you a glare, but truth was.. he'd let you get away with any name you'd throw at his head.

“You’re the best, princess. Now come get your prize,”

Your prize was always a kiss. Lots of them.

Picnic dates. 🥺

Which would start off all innocent with you two chatting while eating and cuddling on the blanket while sunbathing, but always ended in you riding him.

His favorite was when you'd be moaning above him, wearing his cowboy hat, sun slowly disappearing behind the mountains.

Since the climate was so damn hot, you were always wearing tanktops and very rarely a bra which he took advantage of by nearly tearing the thin fabric to pieces because he liked seeing your breasts bounce to the rhythm of your thrusts.

Insisted you kept the boots on, because he thought it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

Every time the two of you were intimate, it was usually somewhere outside or in his car.

Your horses have seen some shit. Thank God they couldn't talk.

Joe never officially asked you to be his girlfriend, but after the first time you kissed, you gave yourself that title whether he liked it or not.

He liked it. He liked it a lot.

Meant he didn't need to prepare a whole ass awkward speech about wanting you as his girl.

You were both jealous and didn't like when the other would get a little too much attention.

He'd knock anyone out who would make you feel uncomfortable, touched you inappropiately or looked your way a little too long for his liking.

You weren't any better, having fought enough girls that tried to sneak their way into Joe's arms.

He usually didn't care about two-timing girls, but he actually loved you and he knew you'd tear his head off if he ever cheated.

“Now I don’t mind the attention, ladies, but I got a girl. She might be small, but she’s wilder than an angry bull, ya know?”

Even though he'd always break up the fights between you and other girls, peeling your (freakishly strong) hands out of their hair, he secretly liked seeing you so jealous.

You two didn't tell each other you loved each other a lot, but it were moments like these that he knew.

He'd take both his family and you by surprise when proposing to you after only four months of dating.

You didn't even hesitate to say yes.

You never cared much for weddings and marriage, but you knew that this was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Plus, you loved how your name sounded with his last name.

Joe eventually made enough money to buy Glenda's bar, who took the money and got the hell outta dodge.

He gifted the bar to you as a wedding gift and the two of you moved in at the house that was adjoined to it.

Still, he made sure to provide for his family too and the both of you went over there as much as you could, helping them with the renovation of the house, etc.

Didn't take you long to fall pregnant, giving birth to a healthy son, who Joe was more than excited to have follow in his footsteps to become a succesful bull rider.

[candied-boys]

Long Hot Summer

Luke Randolph x fem! Reader

Part one of two

Themes: small town country life, cowboys & ranching, childhood friends to lovers, separation and reunion, modern AU

Warnings: Implied underage sex (but sixteen seems fair to me because country life). Mentions of neglect and abuse, poverty. This story follows the themes of Luke's route. If you haven't read it this could spoil it and or be very upsetting.

He was a problem child.

Your parents warned you to stay away from him and his family when they moved into the little pink house next door, but in a town as small as yours, a new kid was a rare sight no six-year-old could resist.

Kicking your boots off on the back porch of the antebellum mansion you follow the familiar aroma of a hearty breakfast through the screen door. Just like every morning on the ranch, you're greeted with plates upon plates of home-smoked bacon, buttermilk biscuits, sausages with gravy, grits, steak, and eggs done six ways to Sunday.

The master chef behind the fabulous spread stands in the grand kitchen humming to himself dressed in his perfectly starched and ironed pink gingham apron.

“Mornin’ Yves,” you chirp and he turns to welcome you with a big hug. “Y’ miss me?”

“Did I ever! I oughta try leavin’ you alone for a week to fodder and clean up after seven cowboys! Well, eight now. Lawdy, I had one hell of a time, I'll tell you! Good to have you back, buttercup.”

“Whaddya mean eight? Last I counted there were only seven of y'all,” you query in confusion as you fasten your apron strings.

“Well! You'll never believe what that ol’ muleskinner brought home while you were out of town!!” the blond cook exclaims, one arm akimbo and the other waving a wooden spoon at you.

You raise a brow. “The only thing that snake eyed lawyer brings home is paperwork and lawsuits.”

Switching to flipping two rows of hotcakes across the length of the griddle Yves scoffs, “Oh, this ain't no libel. Not this time. Aw naw. This time he's done gone and found another one of us! Like seven weren't enough!”

“You're not serious?” you counter incredulously.

“Believe me, honey, good as money in the bank; if he ain't that old cow rustler’s son, none of us are. He's the spittin’ image of him when he was our age — strappin’ redhead and tall as all get out, he is."

You never did meet the tycoon who inherited the Rholodite Ranch. By the time you had started working at the ranch after high school he was already in a care facility. But the one thing you do know is that he — for lack of a better phase — had a way with women. More wives than you care to count and a few too many mistresses. It shouldn't be a surprise that there's another offspring, but still. Eight.

You shake your head in wonder. “Why'd nobody know about him all this time?”

“Well, you know Sareil’s been tryin’a settle the estate since the ol’ man kicked the bucket? Turns out that the will was changed at the last minute to include a potential unnamed eighth recipient. All that was written was the first name of the mother, so Sariel's been on a wild goose chase ever since.”

“And now he's found the kid?”

“He did. And sure ‘nuff it's another brother. Would you believe it? Eight of us. What I'd give to have just one sister like you, peaches.”

“Awww. You're sweet, Yves.”

“Not as sweet as you. Now run along and set the table for me, will you?” he insists and loads up your arms with as many plates as you dare to carry.

While you busy yourself arranging heaping platters of hot vittles all around the boys start filing in. Chattering on or proceeding in silence, they each greet you in their own way as they take up their usual seats. By the time you're on your third round laying out dishes most of them are seated and you've started pouring coffee.

“There she is!” a boisterous voice rings from beside you as your shoulders are wrapped in a one arm hug by the oldest. “We sure missed you, doll. Grub just don't taste the same without your purdy face ‘round.”

“It's good to be home,” you smile as he kisses your cheek.

“Oh, Luke, got somebody for you to meet,” he calls behind you over his shoulder.

You flinch at the name — a million memories passing through you as swiftly as a breeze in the boughs of a willow tree — but just as quick you fix your smile and turn around to greet the stranger.

It's been five long years, yet you remember that gentle, verdant gaze like it was yesterday.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

He was a problem child.

Your parents warned you to stay away from him and his family when they moved into the little pink house next door, but in a town as small as yours, a new kid was a rare sight no six-year-old could resist.

Wary, and unsociable, the redheaded boy was skinny and unkempt. Try as you might, you couldn't wring a word out of him while you waited side by side for the bus in the mornings.

Still, for some reason you never quite figured out, you were always catching yourself looking at him. Checking over your shoulder on the bus to see which seat he took, side glancing in class to check if he was paying attention, peeking out your bedroom window to watch him poking around in his backyard.

It didn't take more than a week to realize he never brought a lunch to school. You didn't have the vocabulary to put a name to the abuse at your age, but you could sense it. Between his neglected appearance, silent and solitary behaviour, and how boney he looked under those baggy clothes, you just knew something wasn't right.

While your mama was busy getting ready for work after breakfast, you started sneaking into the kitchen to fill another brown bag with whatever you could and shove it in your backpack before she caught you. Yet the boy was no friendlier for your unsolicited offering.

Stubborn as a mule, you weren't discouraged. At some point, something changed, though you can't remember what anymore, and by second grade you were best friends. You spent your afternoons playing with him and his baby sister in your backyard, building sandcastles and pushing her on the baby swings in your playset.

Years passed like this. The next distinct memory you can recall is from when you were both finally old enough to go to the county fair together without your parents. You must have been about ten or eleven because you remember Leyla wasn't in school yet.

You pet the baby goats and ponies and ducks and sheep and looked up at the llamas in awe as if they were giraffes. If it weren't for him hauling you off and promising to make you a better bear, you would've got roped into those lousy carnival games and lost all your pocket money. Instead you spent it all on the kiddy rides watching Leyla squeak in delight and strawberry candy apples that were as red as his hair.

There was so much laughter then. Comparing whose tongue was the brightest colour, gleefully watching the kids entertainment shows where dogs and pigs to tricks, beaming in amazement at the wonders the face painters could do with so few colours.

Those were the best days — when you could spend all day in and after school together. High school was different. Kids get vicious. By thirteen the others had figured out why he looked so different. They called him a bastard, said his mother was a whore, and took turns mocking his oversized clothes and lanky physique. He didn't give a lick, but they got him good when they started talking shit about his little sister. It didn't take long before he got expelled for knocking out a few teeth.

After that, he was working all the time. If it wasn't full-time he'd be working two jobs. He grew a lot taller for finally being able to buy his own food, filled out a lot too for eating well and stocking shelves all day.

You missed hanging out at school, but he seemed happy. He often told you how he loved spoiling Leyla with goodies he could now afford, or how much she loved his cooking with all the new ingredients he could buy. Once he confessed he had started putting away what he could for her to go to college. He figured with more than ten years to save he'd make it work.

His first goal though was to get a better job and for that he needed a truck.

It was the year you both turned sixteen. A hot day in mid August. The crunch of gravel in the driveway wasn't the familiar roll of the sedan. You knew without looking through the window what it meant and rushed out, letting the screen door bang shut in your wake.

“Luke! You got it! You finally got it!!”

“Sure did. ‘94 Dodge Ram half-ton with a V8 engine. Older than both y’ or me, but she still runs good,” he tells you with pride as he hops down out of the driver's seat. “Wanna take ‘er for a spin?”

“Can I drive it?” you ask, eyes alight and pleading up into his verdant gaze at least a foot above.

He chuckles with that soft smile he only shows you and his best girl.

“When we get out on the backroads I'll teach y’ to drive stick. This ain't y’r mom's station wagon, sugar,” he teases and easily picks you up by the waist to put you in the cab before he climbs in after you.

Riding shotgun you watch as he shifts into reverse and backs out of your driveway. The way he throws one arm across the headrest to look over his shoulder is candid, unposed, and yet…

The concentration in his face, no longer as round and boyish as it was even last year…

The sharp angle of his jaw where it meets his shaggy, rust-red locks…

The line of carved marble guiding your eyes down to the neck of his faded t-shirt…

Each one has your heart beating in your throat, but you're a second too late to avoid getting caught staring when you glance at the dashboard. As he pulls out onto the road, you glimpse his lazy smile tugging a little wider from of the corner of your eye and hunt for anything else to pay attention to.

Turning the dial on the stereo and popping in the cassette you relax into the seat as he drives out of town, but by the third song in your heart is racing again.

“Is this the mix tape I made you a couple years ago?” you ask during the silence when the tape needs flipping.

One arm out the window he hums, “Mmhmm,” in his slow drawl. “There’s more in the glovebox if y’ wanna listen to sommin’ else.”

As fast as the breeze whipping through the rolled down windows, you crack the box to discover every tape you ever gave him over the last ten years and nothing else. Closing the compartment and gazing out over the corn fields coming into view you hide the smile stealing across your lips.

Half an hour later you're in the driver's seat, hip to hip with him where he keeps one hand around your waist and the other on the shift stick so he can handle switching gears until you get used to the clutch.

“Gettin’ purdy good, sugar. Think y’ can do it by y’rself now?”

You shake your head, wanting to keep him close just a little longer. But Luke's a tease, and next thing you know he's dropped his grip on the drive shaft and refuses to take it back even as you squeal in panic.

“C’mon. Y’ can do it. Just keep one hand on the wheel and the other on the knob,” he coaxes next to your ear in that ever-calm tone.

When you’re forced to reach out and change gears at a crossroads you find his hand over your own as you make the switch down two speeds until you stop, then back up with each press of the clutch. Even at full throttle his hand doesn't leave yours.

The sky has donned her gold and vermillion chiffon by the time Luke takes the wheel again, but just as quickly she's doffed her gilt embellishments in favour of shimmering silver stars.

The silence of the stereo is soon interrupted by the rush of a river when he pulls up at the end of a dirt road and shuts off the engine. Darkness thickens as the headlights fade until the moonless sky is cut in half by an ephemeral streak of glitter.

“Luke! Did you see it?! There was a shootin’ star!” you chirp and eagerly hop out of the truck for a better view.

He jumps out too, but doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm. After spotting another and still getting no reply, you go around back of the tailgate and find him busy laying out sleeping bags atop a roll of foam in the bed of the pickup.

“This is just the beginnin’. There's a meteor shower tonight.”

You can hear the gentle smile in his voice better than your unadjusted eyes can see it, and you can't resist the way its warmth draws you in. Climbing up and kicking off your shoes, you flop down on the makeshift bed with a giggle.

Before he has a chance to do the same you snatch his sleeping bag and unzip it all the way, then do the same with yours and zip them together.

“It'll be warmer this way…” you mumble at his quirked brow and “What'd y’ do that for?”

“Yeah, a’right,” he murmurs back and slips into the space next to you, but he keeps his distance unlike the way he kept you so close this afternoon.

Maybe the driving lessons gave you a confidence boost, or maybe you're just a little tired of waiting for him to make a move. Either way, you know you want the years of flirting, bashful glances, and this crush going nowhere to end. Tonight if you have any say in it.

“Um, hi?” he breathes when you manoeuvre his arm over your shoulder and under your head to nuzzle into him.

“You forgot pillows…”

It's a lame excuse but it's true.

Tentatively you lay a palm on his chest, and just as hesitantly his free hand covers it. You snuggle in until there's no space between your bodies. The arm around your shoulders tucks your crown under his chin. His pulse racing beneath his ribcage echoes in your ear and your sure yours is pounding just as hard.

“Maybe I shoulda just brought one sleeping bag, huh?” he makes an awkward attempt at conversation.

Hopeful and nervous you choose your words carefully. “Next time.”

He only nods. There in his warm embrace you watch the stars fall to the soundtrack of your beating hearts and the crickets singing.

“Aren't they pretty, Luke?” you whisper after a while and reach out a hand to the heavens.

“I'll catch y’ one some day if y’ want,” he whispers back and stretches out his arm to entwine his fingers oh so gently in yours.

“Put it on a ring where it can shine real bright…” he says as he finds your gaze.

His name hardly makes it past your lips for the emotion welling in your throat.

Even under the midnight sky his pale green eyes are as captivating as sparkling dew caught in meadow sunshine.

“I know they say we're just kids, but I don't think I'll ever find somebody else I could care ‘bout like this…”

His gaze is coloured with the lingering pain of sixteen years of neglect and rejection.

“Y're the only one for me…”

The truth you've known for a long time now bubbles up easily with a smile as you lean in to kiss him.

“I love you, Luke. So much.”

Soft, tender pecks quickly gave way to deeper and deeper kisses as if he longed to make up for all those love-starved years he'd suffered. Yet he was so gentle, worshipping every inch of your body, never letting his eyes stray from yours as you drowned in each other's love.

In that warm afterglow, he held your trembling form beneath him so tight you were pressed cheek to cheek. Looking up over his broad shoulders, you made a wish on a shooting star that this love would last forever.

The next day he was dead.

Part two

[undercoverbastard]

Of Stab Wounds and Misunderstandings

It was around the age of 16 that Stiles finally started to come to terms with the implications of his words and he had made peace with it. On occasion, he thought that maybe they’d be able to work past whatever issues his soulmate had with him, but when even Scott would forlornly glance at his bicep with those big round, pitiful eyes - he knew. So he accepted it!

But one good thing that came out of that whole situation was Lydia. When Stiles had swiftly redirected himself down the opposite end of the hall and ducked into a somewhat empty classroom to escape prying eyes and laughing jeers over the words stamped across his skin, Lydia had followed. She stayed quiet, let Stiles collect himself and get a hold of his breathing again, then calmly said, “Fuck fate.”

+.+.+

OR: the soulmate au one based off an old tumblr post or something i read when stiles' words make him think his soulmate hates him so he avoids speaking to them so they won't know who he is. needly to say, that plan doesn't pan out too well and idiots are forced to communicate

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44451616

Stiles had made peace with it. Truly, he had.

At first, he tried to fight it. When he was a child, he didn’t understand it. He knew his parents became wary every time their thumbs traced the words. He knew his mom teared up every time her eyes read over them silently. He knew his dad’s jaw clicked when his teeth clicked together when he caught sight of the mark.

As a child, he was none the wiser. He kept the words covered, as much of the other kids in his class did, and was blissfully unaware of what they meant. Some of the other kids giggled, talking in hushed voices about their marks. Ms. Jacobs often told them it was rude to ask about them and to avoid discussion about them - they’d have plenty of time to do so when they were older.

But that never stopped excitable 6-year-olds. Heather gushed over the word ‘pretty’ and how it must mean her soulmate will think her pretty as a princess. He heard of another boy laughing about how his said the word ‘howdy’ and how he hoped that meant his soulmate was a cowboy (spoiler alert: Anthony Garcia’s soulmate was not a cowboy but an actress at the local county fair who somehow got wrangled into doing horse rides and took her job very seriously - though she did look the part of a cowboy during her shifts).

Stiles at the age of 6, on the other hand, knew almost none of his words, especially when strung together. He knew some of the basic words like ‘you’ and ‘know’, but none of those words gave him much to go off of. He had attempted to sound some of the other words out, and Ms. Jacobs almost had a stroke when he asked her what prick meant. That was a long day - his parents were red in the face, Ms. Jacobs looked like she was on the verge of tears, and every adult told Stiles over and over again not to mention his soulmark to anyone else for two hours straight.

It wasn’t until middle school he understood.

By then, at the tender age of 12, Stiles understood what his words meant. Had for a while, but just then he finally understood what they hinted at. His soulmate was going to hate him on sight; he was going to be disgusted by Stiles before Stiles even had a chance to show who he was to the other person.

Stiles went through a phase the next year where he only spoke to someone new if they spoke first. He was terrified he would upset his soulmate by saying a bad joke or something else along those lines. So he refused to speak first - making it a blanket rule almost.

That only lasted so long as there were too many instances where he had to initiate the conversation first and he too often forgot about the plan that he abandoned it altogether.

It was around the age of 16 that Stiles finally started to come to terms with the implications of his words and he had made peace with it. On occasion, he thought that maybe they’d be able to work past whatever issues his soulmate had with him, but when even Scott would forlornly glance at his bicep with those big round, pitiful eyes - he knew. So he accepted it!

The first person who told Stiles it wasn’t the end of the world was Lydia Martin. He’d had a crush on her in elementary school, claimed she was too pretty to be a princess and thus was a queen, but when her first words to him were “I need the blue crayon” in 3rd grade, he’d not bothered to fixate on it too much. Then, in sophomore year, her boyfriend caught sight of the first bit of Stiles’ words. Jackson Whittemore, for whatever reason, decided to draw attention to it, announcing to the hallway at large that ‘even fate couldn’t find someone to put up with him’. Stiles refused to ever go without a flannel or a long sleeve shirt after that.

But one good thing that came out of that whole situation was Lydia. When Stiles had swiftly redirected himself down the opposite end of the hall and ducked into a somewhat empty classroom, Lydia had followed. She stayed quiet, let Stiles collect himself and get a hold of his breathing again, then calmly said, “Fuck fate.”

After that, Lydia and he had become two peas in a pod - commiserating over their not-so-hopeful words. Lydia’s weren’t as bad, and Stiles had told her it was equally likely hers were said in jest. Lydia rolled her eyes, but the quirk of her lips and the far-off look she directed at her wrist wasn’t missed by Stiles.

For Lydia’s sake, he hoped her words were said in jest. Stiles didn’t have that hope, but he could have it for Lydia.

+.+.+

Now at 20, Stiles mostly ignored his soulmark. Sure, he still stared at it a bit too long when he got out of the shower, and his fingers subconsciously traced the words when he was anxious (which, well, didn’t really help with said anxiety), but he didn’t actively think about it. He was mostly content with the fact that he had yet to meet this person, hoping to put it off as long as possible.

Instead, he focused on his day-to-day life, embracing the current moment. And with that current moment, he decided he was going to take advantage of the nice weather and walk to his favorite coffee shop instead of driving.  Well, he less so decided as he was without other options seeing as his car was currently in the shop, but that’s neither here nor there - he was still basking in the ambiance of the day and enjoying himself, so it still counted.

Humming softly, Stiles stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept walking, a small skip to his step as he bounced on the in-step to the beat of the song stuck in his head. He had walked about a mile so far, the bookshop long since out of sight, and he had probably a little under a mile left of winding sidewalks and crosswalks before he made it to the coffee shop.

As Stiles thoughts over what his caffeine-addicted heart was in the mood for today, he heard a low growl and then a pitiful whine echo faintly from a narrow passage between two buildings. He had just walked by the small walkway, the space barely large enough for someone to walk through let alone much else.

Ignoring his apprehension and instead focusing on his curiosity and concern, Stiles backtracked slowly, stepping cautiously into the opening between the two buildings. He took careful, measured steps and kept an ear out for whatever could have made the sounds from before. He was willing to bet some sort of animal, maybe a dog or a cat. It sounded as if they were scared or in pain.

Running through the hundreds of possibilities, Stiles walked further down the passage until it opened up into a larger clearing. It seemed to be a merging point between several businesses on either side, old rickety fire escapes decorating each building. It didn’t seem the most ideal in the means of fire safety and escaping danger, but Stiles figured it was the best one could do given the cramped nature of the buildings. Most of them were older than a resident in the town, the fact that they didn’t mean any fire safety standard within this decade (hell, maybe this century) wasn’t all that surprising.

Glancing around, Stiles didn’t see anything and was about to retreat, having not heard any new sounds. But as soon as he took a step back, he heard another whine. It was high-pitched and desperate, seemingly begging despite the lack of words.

Without further thought, Stiles darted towards the sound. What he expected to find was an injured animal, maybe stuck on something or maybe with a broken leg, unable to walk any further. Instead, he found a girl - maybe around his age - pushed up against one of the walls leading into another narrow walkway on the opposite side of where Stiles himself emerged.

The girl was pushed up against the wall and a man was in front of her, teeth bared at her in some mockery of a smile while his forearm pressed into her throat. Stiles could barely see half the man’s face and only saw the faintest profile of the girl, her arm and hair the most visible parts of her.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing, man?!” Stiles yelled out. It seemed to work, the man having startled. And when he stepped back, a slick, wet sound accompanying the clatter of footsteps, Stiles saw the blade clutched in his hand.

The man narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, his knife already raised once again. In a panic, Stiles reached into his back pocket. The only thing he had on him was a flashlight, an old clunky metal one that barely worked half the time but that he always forgot about replacing.

He hesitated for only half a second, wondering if he could possibly fight the guy off with the flashlight. It was fairly large and it was heavy as hell being metal, but he felt like he was still outmatched. Instead, thinking on his feet, he went with his next best option. Or, well, the next best Stiles’ Patented Idea option.

He kept his hand in his back pocket, pulling the flashlight up just enough to reach the button but not enough to show it. He clicked the button on it twice, the heavy slide of the worn and ever so slightly rusted metal button sliding back and forth giving off a decent enough sound.

As he did so, he spoke, hoping the click would still be audible enough but that he could distract the guy, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The man seemed to falter, his eyes jumping to Stiles’ arm that was still tucked behind his back. After a couple of seconds, Stiles realized he’d have to somehow keep the charade up of his flashlight being a gun or he’d have to out himself to being weaponless and pray to god his flashlight was a fair match to the knife in front of him.

Just as Stiles was about to pull out the flashlight and try to surprise the guy, a low growl came from behind him. This one wasn’t pained, it was angry and threatening - low and gravelly. It made Stiles shiver ever so slightly and his back straighten out.

In the next instant, Knife Guy was darting to the side, out another entryway, and out into the street, not casting a single look back. Stiles somewhat understood the sentiment after being present for the threatening sound that just came from what he assumed to be the girl now slumped against the wall.

Stumbling forward, Stiles dropped down onto his knees next to the girl, hands already reaching out to see how bad the damage was.

“Holy shit, that growl was impressive dude! Like seriously, you made the guy turn tail,” Stiles said as he slammed down next to her. He froze as he saw a hole at the bottom of her shirt, a dark stain coloring the dark blue shirt a near-black color. “Oh fuck, oh fuck - fuck! Okay, uhm, wow, this isn’t- come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

The girl seemed to hesitate, her eyes dancing over Stiles’ form, which - understandable, she did just get mugged or jumped or… whatever the guy was attempting with a knife. Stiles would be pretty hesitant of himself as well. Obediently, Stiles lifted his hands in the air and spread out his fingers, trying to imitate the universal sign of relenting. He wanted her to know he just wanted to help.

After a couple of stifled, silent seconds passed, Stiles watched as her head cocked ever so slightly, her nostrils flared, and her eyes seemed to narrow. It was odd, almost like one of those police dogs when they were investigating a scene and trying to determine if a certain scent was dangerous. It would be funny if she weren’t currently bleeding out.

Finally, she nodded, and Stiles quickly moved to wrap an arm around her waist as he pulled one of her arms over his shoulder. The girl wrapped her other arm around her abdomen, a soft groan leaving her lips as Stiles helped pull her to her feet. After they were standing upright, he began the tedious task of guiding them back out the passageway he first came down. It was quite narrow, so he had to walk nearly sideways so he could brace the girl’s weight on his shoulder still.

Once out to the street, Stiles let go of the arm she had thrown around his shoulders and immediately called his dad, phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as he tried to look around and get an idea of where he could take them that was safe.

“Hey, kid, wha-”

“Park Place and 7th. There’s a girl who got stabbed and- and we- she… please just send someone,” Stiles rushed out. The girl who was now leaning a bit heavily into his side was groaning small protests, her words ever so slightly slurred as she gave a half-hearted attempt at dismissing Stiles’ words.

“What?” his dad demanded, alarm settling in quickly. “What do you mean, Stiles?”

“I mean,” he said a bit frantically, “that I am currently holding a girl with a stab wound in her stomach and need some help! An ambulance, maybe a police officer - someone!”

“Okay, okay - I’ll dispatch my closest guy and call into the hospital. Hang tight and don’t go anywhere.” And with that, his dad ended the call, seemingly to see who was closest and to arrange for an ambulance for the girl who was currently smearing blood all over Stiles’ favorite flannel and becoming heavier by the minute.

“S…” the girl began, “St.. Stiles? You… you’re Stiles?” she asked, her voice a bit uneven but her eyes wide and questioning. She was already fumbling her bloody hand toward her sleeve, trying to shove it away but being mostly unsuccessful. Stiles could only nod dumbly, lost on how she knew him and what she was attempting to do exactly, before he remembered the gravity of the situation and opted to figure out what she seemed to know him at a later point in time.

He searched around until his eyes landed on the donut shop across the street. It was closed by now since they only opened in the morning, but they did have a couple of small tables out front that he could set her down at to try and keep her comfortable and maybe tend to the wound in the meantime. So, without further hesitation, he began to pull her across the street, eyes darting both ways to ensure no cars were coming while doing so.

The girl - whose name he really should learn, Stiles realized - groaned in pain once more and hunched in on herself as they took the first step off the sidewalk. The shift in stance and imbalance of weight sent Stiles momentarily stumbling. He dropped his phone on the sidewalk and opted to come back for it, not wanting to juggle the girl while trying to lean over to get his phone. 

Swiftly as he could, Stiles pulled them both over to the front of the donut shop. He used one of his feet to pull a chair out and pushed the girl into it as gently as he could. He knelt down and rearranged her so she was leaning back into the chair, the rest of her weight supported by the table next to her. His hands danced in the air a bit frantically, unsure if he should check the wound and try to apply pressure to it or if he should wait since his flannel wasn’t exactly the cleanest and he wasn’t sure if staunching the bleeding was more important than avoiding possible infection.

“Give me one second, I need my phone, Mel will know what to do,” Stiles said, his hands gripping the girl’s shoulders briefly before he turned to dart back across the street.

He glanced back over to her as he crossed, the sound of nearby sirens beginning to fill the air - thank god - and then searched for his phone. He knows he dropped it just as they began to cross the street but he hadn’t actually seen where it fell to. Staring at the ground and darting his eyes around momentarily, he finally caught sight of the screen glinting off sunlight, the phone having partially slid underneath one of the old Post Office Mail Boxes on the street (Stiles was like 85% certain the Post Office had stopped using those things, or at least, had stopped using this particular one).

When he finally retrieved his phone and turned back to cross the street, he heard the thunk of a door slamming shut. Someone from BHPD had finally arrived - Stiles felt a lot more relaxed, seeing as he obviously didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

Jogging across the street, Stiles saw a man knelt down next to the girl in the chair Stiles had propped her against. He seemed fairly young, a newer recruit - someone that must have joined while Stiles was away at school during the year - and he had dark hair and decently tanned skin. If there wasn’t someone possibly-maybe actively dying six inches away from the guy, Stiles would be taking advantage of the opportunity to survey the view.

Pausing right behind the pair, Stiles waved his phone in the air, about to tell the girl he was going to call a nurse and ask about what to do for the stab wound in the meantime, but she found her voice before he did.

“Der, it- it’s him,” the girl said, her voice a bit of a wheeze. She didn’t sound upset or accusing, more in awe. And Stiles was a bit stumped, his eyebrows knitting together as the girl held out a finger towards him and thus caused the man - ‘Der’ - to turn toward him. Immediately, the most beautiful set of eyes Stiles ever had the privilege of looking into narrowed at him. They almost seemed to lighten a bit, the color getting sharper, but it seemed almost threatening rather than ethereal, as the guy took a step towards him and was letting out a low snarl in his direction.

“You fucking prick,” the man hissed out, and Stiles felt his stomach drop - the sharp sting of tears already ushing at the backs of his eyes. “You are a pathetic excuse of a person, you know that?” 

Stiles subconsciously grabbed at his bicep, a small burning warmth tickling his skin as the same words seemed to re-etch themselves into his flesh, reminding him. Taking a step back, Stiles opened his mouth to try and defend himself. The man had already taken another step forward, the snarling growl heightening in volume, and this time for certain, Stiles saw the change in color of the man’s eyes.

Breath hitched, Stiles couldn’t form a response. He was fucked. He was so majorly fucked .

“No, no!” the girl finally protested, leaning forward and fumbling to grab the guy’s arm, a weak attempt at pulling him back. “Not the stab wound, jesus, no. He’s Sti–”

Before she could finish, the arrival of a secondary police car and an ambulance were announced as they pulled around the corner of the street and screeched to a halt. Stiles had been so wrapped up in what seemed to be his inevitable death that he hadn’t even heard the new sirens of either vehicle until they had already pulled up.

“Stiles!”

Stiles looked away from the duo, finding his dad who was darting toward him with two paramedics close on his tail. Stiles obediently fell into his dad’s embrace, listening as the man asked if he was okay, how he found the girl, if he saw who did this, and ten other things. He tuned most of it out, watching as the paramedics loaded the girl up while the officer from earlier held a phone to his ear, eyes glued to the girl now being carried on a stretcher toward the ambulance.

“Stiles,” his dad finally grabbed his attention with a firm shake, “I’m going to need you to give a statement, son.” His dad looked like he was in literal pain, the worry clear as day in his eyes. Stiles felt gently guilty for causing his dad to have that look, but he also couldn’t find it in himself to regret getting involved either.

“I… I will,” he finally responded, “but… not yet. I need to talk to her first.”

Frowning, his dad followed his line of sight until they were both watching the paramedics finish loading up the ambulance. Stiles had to ask first, had to confirm.

+.+.+

Cora Hale.

That’s her name. After the ambulance finally pulled away, the murderous officer (AKA, Deputy Hale) in tow, Stiles followed his father into his cruiser and back home. Stiles had argued, insisting his dad could take them back to the station as he undoubtedly had work and paperwork to tend to, but his dad stubbornly declined.

“I need to tend to my son first,” he said evenly, his sharp gaze daring Stiles to argue. Stiles opted not to.

Once back at the house, Stiles asked if he could find out who the girl was. He needed a name if he was going to visit the hospital. After the Knowing Look shared between the two of them, his dad agreed. He promised Stiles a name once he finished showering and changing - instructing him to bag his clothes (shoes included, Stiles begrudgingly complied) for possible evidence.

When he came back, freshly showered, with new clothes, and less comfy but also new shoes, his dad relayed the newfound information.

“Melissa said she should be fine. Apparently, her sister is a nurse at the hospital too, and immediately took on the case. After a quick debrief, Laura declared it was a non-fatal hit and just needed a few stitches. You should be able to go visit her as soon as the next hour,” his dad explained, a curious glint in his eyes as he spoke. Both he and Stiles were questioning the story, knowing it wasn’t that cut and dry. Which was exactly why Stiles needed to talk to the girl - Cora - before he gave his statement.

“And that deputy…” Stiles found himself asking, earning a raised eyebrow from his dad. He ducked his face to avoid giving too much away (which he already did).

“Deputy Hale,” his dad reiterated, “Cora’s brother. Derek.” The sheriff studied his son curiously for a moment, head tilted. “Is there something I need to know, Stiles?”

Stiles shook his head but abruptly stopped, sighing. He hesitantly curled his palm around the spot on his bicep, his eyes flitting upwards and latching onto his father’s that were now staring at his hand. Once the two of them met eyes, he gave a simple nod, just a single, sharp jerk of the head downwards.

“Good grief,” his dad mumbled, a hand coming to rub over his face tiredly.

“He thought…” Stiles said, shaking his head a bit. “He thought I- that it was-” he finally cut himself off and fell into silence again, his eyes now trained on a random spot on the wall as he finally let everything sink in.

His dad gave a simple nod. He expected the man to be angry, furious even. He had always had such disdain for Stiles’ soulmark, his eyes filled with despair and pain whenever he saw it. It looked like it physically pained him every time. But he was just… accepting. It didn’t fully excuse the mark, but he knew his dad understood. Knew he wouldn’t be able to properly hold it against Derek even if he’s hated the words printed on his own son’s skin his entire life.

“Well… guess we should drop by the hospital, then,” Stiles said, attempting to change topics. He wasn’t all that successful.

+.+.+

Knocking on the door, Stiles waited until a voice softly told him to come in. It didn’t sound like Cora’s, but it was female. He could be mistaken, since Cora hadn’t been in the best of scenarios when they originally met, but he was fairly certain the voice belonged to someone else.

Bracing himself, Stiles entered the room, softly shutting the door after he walked in. He trekked into the room until he could see the hospital bed behind the thin, white curtain that previously blocked most of his view. As suspected, the voice didn’t belong to Cora. Instead, he found another woman - this one seeming a bit older than Cora - hovering at the foot of the bed Cora lay in, decked out in scrubs and eyes looking towards Stiles questioningly.

“Stiles!”

This time, it was Cora. She seemed to beam at him with a wide smile. Stiles nervously returned it. He let his gaze skate across the room, but when he made eye contact with Derek, he felt himself falter. Instead of freaking out of running back out the door like he so desperately wanted to, he instead schooled his expression - letting his face go as blank as he could - before refocusing on Cora.

Tentatively, he stepped further into the room, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Uhm, hi,” he said a bit awkwardly. Cora just grinned at him, seeming a bit too happy considering her recent events and overall day. But he wasn’t one to judge (at least, not out loud).

“So, uh, listen, “ Stiles said, his eyes flicking towards the ceiling, unable to meet anyone’s eye, “I’m supposed to give a statement about the uh… the incident but I… I wanted to ask what you want me to tell them. So that it matches whatever it is you’re going to tell them - or have. Maybe you already have, I don’t know, I-... either way.”

When he was met with silence, he finally dared a glance back at the room. Cora had a small frown on her face while her sister looked at him curiously, her arms now folded over her chest. Stiles pointedly avoided looking at Derek to see his reaction.

“And why would your stories need to… match?” the other woman spoke up, drawing Stiles’ eyes toward her. Involuntarily, he let out a huff of air - a mock of a laugh. He gestured vaguely with one hand towards Cora.

“I’m, like, 99% sure she doesn’t have a single mark on her stomach now and I can’t exactly tell the police I watched a guy pull a six-inch blade out of her stomach and then her not have an injury to photograph - which they will want to do, I can promise you that. So…” Stiles trailed off. The woman got a hardened look in her eyes, her stance rigid, while Cora seemed to study him further.

Stiles groaned quietly, his hands coming up to dig the heel of his palms into his eyes and he bowed his head.

“I’m not- I didn’t- it’s kind of hard to not recognize you’re werewolves when your brother flashed his eyes while trying to decide on how to kill me,” he explained, refusing to look up. “I came to ask to… avoid you having issues with the reports and everything. I just want to make it as easy as possible, however, that is.”

Looking up once more, Cora seemed to relax, a quirk of a smile lining her lips. Her sister seemed to still be studying him but was no longer on the defensive. Instead, she seemed curious, her eyes never once leaving his form, causing him to squirm under the gaze.

“I wasn’t going to kill you.”

Stiles grit his teeth, refusing to look at the person who spoke. Instead, he kept his gaze on Cora and focused on her intently. “You can get my number from Nurse McCall, just- let me know. I have to go.”

Without further explanation, Stiles darted out of the room. If he was in there for any longer he was likely to break down sobbing at some point. He wasn’t sure how he was going to broach that topic but he did take a bit of satisfaction in knowing Derek was unaware of their matching marks as of yet. And the longer Stiles could avoid that, the easier his life would be (or so he kept telling himself).

+.+.+

Cora ended up getting his number from Scott’s mom as he mentioned and texted him. Just like her text, Stiles’ own story was vague. He gave his statement, worked with a sketch artist to try and get a decent sketch of the guy he saw, and that was that. His dad tried to keep it on the down low and avoid further pushing which Stiles sincerely appreciated because even with all the vagueness of his report and his intense focus on the actual suspect, he knew his story was a bit... iffy. He just hoped no one bothered to push it further.

That had happened three days ago. Cora was still texting him and Stiles was doing his best to respond. He had been more or less avoiding Cora’s text and vehemently avoiding the sheriff’s station. In fact, Stiles had attempted to leave the house as minimally as possible. He had called out of work for the rest of the weekend, with no plans to return until after the weekend, and with almost no pushback from Mrs. Gievars who insisted he needed to rest and to take all the time he needed. Which he was happily taking advantage of, going on day three of ‘resting’ and avoiding most other living beings.

Stiles’ avoidance of his phone, sudden anti-social tendencies, and overall absence from the general world is what brought one Lydia Martin marching into his room. All it took was one missed phone call from one day ago and she was walking her positively pissed-off self into his house and telling him off. Loudly.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Lydia demanded as soon as she walked in. Her arms were crossed, her lips taut and pulled down ever so slightly. Aside from the small glint of worry in her eyes, she looked angry. Angry with Stiles, specifically.

“Gee, thanks, Lyds,” Stiles grumbled, burrowing further into his pillows, “I’m doing great, thanks for asking. No, no physical wounds. No, I am not experiencing any symptoms of PTSD or anything like that. Yes, I am 100% a-okay. All systems go. Yep, that’sa me - totally good, nothing wrong here! I am-”

A frustrated huff cut Stiles off. Gone was any and all trace of worry. Now, Lydia was 120% livid with a generous helping of flat-out annoyed. She glared at Stiles, her shoe now tapping an angry pattern into his floor as she glared him into submission. Stiles squinted his eyes but gave in, groaning as he rolled himself into a proper sitting position so he could face Lydia Martin’s wrath head-on and with his full attention.

Raising an eyebrow, Stiles gave a vague wave of his hand to indicate Lydia get on with it. When nothing came, Stiles looked at her expectantly, his second eyebrow climbing to join the first. 

“What is it? What’s wrong with you?” Lydia finally demanded, her foot quieting and her glare losing its hard edge. She was now staring at Stiles as if all the world’s answers would appear if she just looked hard enough - long enough.

“I don’t know what you me-”

“Bullshit. Answer me, Stilinski,” Lydia cut off pointedly. “You’ve been ignoring your phone - even Scott, who texted me acting like a pathetic puppy, by the way. Super annoying. You haven’t left your house in three days. And you’re acting so… pathetic. So what is it?”

Stiles gave a noise of protest at the mention of him being pathetic. Sure, she was right on the money, but it was still rude.

Glancing around his room, Stiles debated on how to broach the subject. He played with the idea of not telling her, but he also knew it was futile. He got away with not telling Scott because he had effectively avoided him. He also avoided going too in-depth with his dad because neither of them were well-versed in talking things out. Lydia, however, was unavoidable. She was a force of nature unlike any the world had yet to see. It was alarming, in retrospect.

Sighing, Stiles looked at his hands, trying to be succinct (which, yea, that should tell Lydia right away just how he feels about this whole situation). “I found my soulmate.”

Silence.

Refusing to break the silence or see Lydia’s reaction, Stiles steadfastly stared at his hands. He hoped to hear the click-clack of Lydia’s shoes exiting his room. He possibly even hoped to hear her groan or sigh of frustration before she told him how dramatic he was being. But he got neither.

Instead, he felt arms wrap around his waist and a head tuck itself against his shoulder. Lydia fit herself against him quickly and easily, offering no words. It wasn’t often they did this. Sure, they nudged one another, shoved at each other, and Stiles was notorious for throwing an arm around every one or grabbing at someone’s shoulders as he spoke. But… this? Hugging? Comforting touches? Intimacy? It was a bit more rare between the two of them.

Lydia and Stiles’ friendship was built on understanding. It was built off of both of them saying ‘fuck this’. It wasn’t built off of tears or one-on-one therapy sessions about how unfair fate was. They never did that. Instead, Lydia dragged Stiles out shopping and berated him for wearing so much flannel and bought him greasy burgers and fries while rolling her eyes and repeating how unhealthy it all was. And Stiles in turn shoved Lydia in his car and drove for three hours while playing her favorite music. He snuck into her bedroom at 3 am with a handle of vodka and crappy soda and stayed up until the early morning, listening to her list off the statistics of soulmates and their various outcomes and possibilities for probably the hundredth time.

There was no crying. There were very seldom emotional talks or hugs. They didn’t work like that because it’s what worked for them. So yea, the hug was a bit weird. But it was also exactly what Stiles needed from the person he needed it from most.

Lydia finally left about two hours later, and no further words were spoken by either party. Instead, they had somehow slowly moved into the position of Lydia sitting at the foot of the bed with Stiles curled on his side, head in her lap, on the cusp of sleep while Lydia made tiny braids in his hair and unraveled them over and over again. When she left, she fluffed up a pillow before sneaking it under his head while she slipped out. 

+.+.+

“Cora Hale?”

Cora looked up at the mention of her name. Derek was sitting next to her in a visitor’s chair, eyebrows scrunched as he tuned into the exchange happening just outside the door. It seemed neither of them knew the newcomer.

“Correct,” Laura answered, seemingly waving the person in as there was only a second before the click-clack of shoes sounded against the linoleum. 

The clicking footsteps were followed by a somewhat petite red-headed girl. Her hair and makeup were in perfect order, her posture and stance looked like she’d be graded on it later, and her smile was poised and practiced, but sincere. She gave an ever so slightly larger smile to Cora, nodding her head once as she presented a vase of flowers. The vase was filled with yellow roses and a plethora of white baby’s breath. The stems of the flowers were tied together with a large white bow and the arrangement looked stunning as well as expensive.

Before Cora could even question who the girl was, she was pivoting towards Derek. Her head cocked slightly to the side and her eyes scanned him in an assessing manner. After a few seconds, she pursed her lips and looked the older man in the eye.

“Derek Hale, yes?” she asked politely. Derek gave a slow nod, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Good,” she said. And once more, before anyone could question her on who she was or what she was doing there, she promptly slammed a fist into Derek’s shoulder. Despite the girl being short in stature and unassuming in strength, even Cora knew the hit had a bit of a sting to it.

Derek growled, a hand reflexively moving up to grasp at his bicep. “What the-”

“That’s for ruining my best friend’s life and making me deal with his pathetic moping for the past 5 years,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. Derek opened his mouth to try and ask, once more, what the hell she was on about when her hand shot out once again and slapped him roughly upside the head, causing his head to snap forward from the force and another growl to slide out of his throat. “That’s for being an utter moron and not addressing this issue sooner.”

Cora couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. Both Derek and the yet-to-be-introduced girl turned toward her. Derek was scowling while the girl was giving a half-interested, curious look. Cora clutched her stomach as she doubled over in laughter.

When she finally pulled herself together, Cora looked up and met eyes with the girl and gave her a wide grin. “God, you’re a fucking bitch,” she said. Derek cut in, mumbling, “I’ll fucking say.” Cora promptly rolled her eyes before meeting the other girl’s eyes again, grin widening as she finished her - rude interrupted - sentence, “I love it.”

The girl stared, her lips parting ever so slightly as her eyes scanned Cora intently. She seemed shocked, rooted to the spot. When enough time had passed for the silence to become stilted, Cora opened her mouth to begin moving the conversation along, but the other seemed to finally kick back into gear.

“The one time Stiles’ is right,” she said with a long suffering sigh. Her lips twitched upwards, however, and the look she was giving Cora was now more intrigued than incredulity. Cora, in response, stared wide-eyed before giving a shout of surprise.

“Holy shit! It’s you!” Cora breathed. “What’s your name?”

Smiling, the girl responded, “Lydia. Lydia Martin.”

Lydia and Cora took the next couple of minutes to assess the other. Gentle smiles and roaming eyes were the only exchange between the two, both content with committing the moment to memory and examining the person who was meant to be their other half pure the laws of fate. The moment was only broken by Derek shuffling in his chair and clearing his throat a bit awkwardly. This movement seemed to remind Lydia of her initial mission, as she rolled her eyes and her lips turned downwards slightly before she turned to focus back on Derek.

“Right,” she said, as if she was already tired of dealing with him, “you. You need to fix this. Go apologize.”

“Apologize to who and for what?” Derek growled. Lydia gave an unimpressed look in response.

“Stiles. Go makeup and end the moping, I don’t like it when he’s all…” Lydia huffed, her hand flicking through the air absently as if the words themselves were too bothersome to convey. Her answer only made Derek narrow his eyes further. 

Lydia seemed to realize something as she groaned softly, her eyes rolling upwards. Meeting Derek’s eyes once more, she perched her hands on her hips in a condescending manner, giving him a withering look.

“Have you talked to him?” she asked, then shook her head. “Better yet. Has he talked to you ? At all?”

Derek frowned, thought momentarily, then shook his head slowly. Lydia frowned and tapped her foot twice, her anger somehow sounding throughout the room with that one action. She eventually sighed lowly and shook her head, as if disappointed.

“Pearce Ave and Main Street. He works at the bookstore. He’s there until 4.”

After a moment of silence, Derek was stirred into action by Lydia’s pointed look and a scoff from Cora. After exiting the room, he could hear the shuffling of Lydia’s shoes and the soft words being exchanged between the two. Their voices died off the further he got from the room, his mind slowly processing the entire last ten minutes and what the hell Lydia was on about.

For whatever reason, he was listening to her and was making his way to the bookstore off of Main and Pearce. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his own curiosity or due to Lydia unnaturally commandeering nature - though if anyone asked he’d say it was the former.

+.+.+

Derek slipped into the bookstore unnoticed. He watched as Stiles thumbed a couple of pages of a book laid out in front of him and sipped from a mug. Derek could smell the leftover coffee in the pot behind the counter and the sickeningly sweet scent of the creamer and syrup added to the coffee. He could also smell the comforting aroma of the books filling the space and the underlying scent of worn leather from the could of old couches placed against a couple of different walls.

Despite the cloying, sweet scent of Stiles’ coffee, it was a relaxing environment. Derek almost forgot why he was there.

Shaking his head to himself, Derek stepped up to the counter and cleared his throat. When Stiles looked up and met his eye, the younger man froze - going completely still. His eyes widened a bit and he seemed to become apprehensive, a tentative look in his eyes as they darted between Derek’s in a silent question.

“Hi,” Derk said, his voice a bit rough. He cleared his throat once more after a long stretch of silence. “I… came to apologize. For before. It was a misunderstanding but I still acted… rudely. You were helping Cora. And I wanted to… thank you. For helping her. And for the report.”

Derek shuffled a bit. It was more than he planned on saying originally though his words were just as stilted and sharp as usual. It wasn’t that he was a bad conversationalist, per se, he just didn’t know how to carry a conversation. He often relied on others for that or hoped they didn’t notice his penchant for nodding in silence.

However, after several minutes passed in silence, Stiles’ quick thumping heartbeat the only noise in the otherwise quiet store, Derek was losing his mind. 

“Are you… going to say anything?” he finally asked a bit roughly, his eyebrows raised in question. Stiles, in turn, went bug-eyed.

See, the issue here was this: Stiles hadn’t spoken to Derek yet and therefore Derek wasn’t aware of their connection to one another. This was a comfort to Stiles as it felt like he was able to hide behind the fact. However, he was also at a loss. Because he always thought the words on his bicep were in response to something he said - like a crude joke or a misdirected question or something else stupidly absurd. Sure, they were in response to something he did but not to anything he said. And he suddenly felt overwhelmed.

He could say something just as scathing back to Derek. He could say something common and simple, bank on the fact that Derek won’t notice until later and would have interacted with several other people who said similar things that he wasn’t sure who it was. Or, he could say something… nice.

It wasn’t really a question. Stiles knew he wasn’t one for simple and common - it may start out as a simple ‘hey’ but it would somehow turn into the introductory paragraph of the growing epidemic regarding the black market for organs or whatever else his mind happened to be thinking of in the background. Also, Stiles knew he couldn’t be scathing or rude - not knowingly, at least. Sure, he would be the first to admit he was an ass, a bit of an arrogant jerk, and definitely a major dick - but that was in jest. It was between friends and his dad. He could be sarcastic but he didn’t want to… mar someone’s skin like that either. While he now understood where the words came from, he didn’t want anyone else to have the same damning words and sentiment etched into their skin. Not like him.

Realizing he was a bit of a sap (he was blaming Lydia for forcing him to watch The Notebook every week since sophomore year; the romance and sappiness had leaked out and been absorbed by his traitorous, eclectic personality), Stiles took in a deep steadying breath and willed the next words to be kind.

And, well… no one can ever say Stiles Stilinski is predictable. Because not even he saw the next words out of his mouth coming.

“I don’t think the words to describe you have been created yet; you’re too breathtaking to be confined to words alone,” Stiles said, his voice soft. He paused, breath caught in his throat. It was as if his mind threw out the controls and just… let his thoughts roam free. He didn’t know what was being said until the words had disappeared into thin air. Derek’s wide-eyed stare was the only indication he actually said them.

The two of them stared at one another in complete silence for what felt like hours but what was only a couple of minutes. Finally feeling the weight of the silence, Stiles cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek finally asked, causing Stiles to snap his eyes back over to him. Stiles gave a weak smile and shrugged.

“I… it wasn’t a good time. And I kind of wanted to avoid it. If I didn’t speak to you, you wouldn’t know who I was,” Stiles said, providing yet another shrug. Derek seemed confused and a bit… hurt? His eyes were dancing across Stiles’ face as if looking for both the questions and answers he wanted.

Shaking his head with his lips turned down in the slightest of frowns, Derek finally spoke back up, “You didn’t want me to know? What did I… What did I do?”

Without bothering to respond or try to explain himself, Stiles instead opted to pull down the sleeve of his flannel and roll up the bottom of his shirt sleeve, exposing his soulmark.

‘You fucking prick. You are a pathetic excuse of a person, you know that?’

Derek took in a sharp inhale, his hand coming out to ghost over the words. His eyes were wide, his lips pulled tautly, and he looked pained. Stiles felt a rush of guilt at seeing the expressions and hurriedly pushed the fabric of his shirt back down and readjusted his flannel. He gave a small smile to the other when Derek finally looked him in the eye, an almost haunted look reflecting back at Stiles.

“I get it now that it wasn’t me you hated or were mad at or whatever but-... yea, ya’know, growing up with it I just- I guess I was preparing myself to piss you off? Or to have you… hate me? Or something? I don’t know. I just wanted to avoid it so I kinda… ran,” Stiles explained, his hands waving a bit wildly as he tried to piece his train of thought together. “Sorry,” he added belatedly.

Derek scoffed, startling the younger of the two. Derek was now glaring off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive pose as he glared at whatever it was he had his sights set on.

“Sorry?” he repeated, “You? You’re the one apologizing? After I gave you that mark? Jesus.”

Stiles couldn’t help but snort, grinning at the small start Derek gave and the look of surprise he shot Stiles’ way. “It wasn’t like you intentionally did it, dude,” Stiles argued, “I’m sure you would have chosen literally any other words than those. I get it now, though.”

Derek opened his mouth, looking like he was ready to argue against himself once again and demand Stiles see Derek’s error and failure, but Stiles waved it off, a dismissive noise promptly ending the conversation.

Once more, the two lapsed into silence, though it was more welcome than the last bout and more comfortable than stifling. Eventually, though, it had to be broken.

“Can I make it up to you? Starting with a dinner?” Derek asked, “Or coffee? Whatever you want.”

Stiles paused, looking at Derek a bit quizzically. He let a timid yet playful smile curl over his lips, letting the question sink in. After a moment of silence, Stiles had a wide grin painted on his face and he had a challenging look in his eye as he leaned forward on the counter, closer toward Derek.

“Whatever I want, hm?” he asked, a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth.

“Whatever you want,” Derek said, his lips twitching in response. 

Humming, Stiles stood back up, straightening his posture and nodding his agreement to the idea. “We could start with dinner,” he murmured, “but I might have another request or two.” Derek simply grinned and gave a half-hearted shrug, seemingly uncaring one way or the next - though his smile indicated he was more than willing to oblige Stiles with his additional requests.

“I think I can work with that.” +.+.+

True to his word, Derek obliged and tended to the requests without fret. Even when he was asked to dinner with Stiles and his dad and was forced to sit through two hours of mostly silent gun cleaning, a box of wolfsbane bullets precariously left out in the open. The subsequent glares given by the sheriff while at work were just as unsettling but Derek took it in stride.

He could work with this.

[tetzoro]

OH AIMSIES MY PRECIOUS AIMSIESSSS !! HOW ARE YOU DOING MY LOVEEE ?? I MUST KNOW !!! guess who ( you already know by the size of the paragraph i fear… :3 !! ) BUT WAHHH !! THERE IS SOSO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT !!!!!!!! T^T

PLS oh my gosh you’re so right, it is like we are lil penpals !! i literally sit in my notes app typing out my little (not so little) response giggling and kicking my feet because EEEP !! I JUST ADORE TALKING TO YOU AIMSIES !! :> your goal is to get me to watch one piece you say ?? omg…and what if i told you… i actually did start one piece a while ago :3 i already have a zoro figure and he looks so darn silly HELP ( ive been roped in by the zoro lovers. nobody save me because i love it here !!!!!)

AHHHH IVE BEEN DOING GOOD !! im finally feeling more into spirit and doing things to make myself happy <3 i started a bunch of new animes and im totally loving them AGHHH !! im sorry that day was rough for you, im hoping you’re better by now because you deserve all of the happiness in the WORLD !! <3

oh my goodness for REAL !! bokuto fics are soso difficult to find… im struggling over here !! when i was in my akaashi phase ( still am to this day oh how i love my keiji <3) i scrolled all the way to the bottom of the akaashi x reader hashtag. like, i read every single one ever posted on tumblr. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE ???? IDK !!! T^T but omg… im letting you cook… someone grab me a bib and a silverware set >:3

RAHH HELP KUROO BETTER RUN AND RETURN WITH THOSE DOODLES !! i will make sure he remembers his promise teehee <3 tinky tried to draw some catsonas of you and kuroo… it didn’t work out too well. i had to console the big guy SOB pls he is too silly !! </3 HELP PLS I KNOW i went up to tsumu after that and smacked him back because ?!?!?! HE WAS BURNT TOO ??? he cant just do that and expect to get away with it !! he was cursing up a storm it was actually hilarious PLS T^T

OHHHHH YOU AND KUROO, KUROO AND YOU, AIMSIES AND KUROO KUROMY !! MY BELOVEDS FOREVER !!!!!! that is so sweet that he sometimes feeds you SOB !! imagine he’s feeding you your yummy funnel cake and you get some whipped cream on your lips, so he pauses what he’s doing… then you’re looking at him like “ ???”, and he tells you that you have something on your face… so while you’re trying to find it he just grabs your chin and kisses it off leaving u a blushy little mess <333 IM MELTING you guys are SO cute WAHHH T^T AND THE ROMANTIC MOVIES !! oh plz, he is just a secret little emotional lil guy, but he wants to share that with you !! i bet you sometimes when he’s watching those movies with you, he’s secretly thinking about taking you on some of those dates, or wanting to recreate some of those precious romantic scenes <3 he is just so enthralled with you and wants to be with you in every lifetime !! HOW PRECIOUS !!!!!!! <3

WAHHH AIMS YOUR KILLING ME HERE !! THE COWBOY BOKUTO SCENARIO ?? im levitating he is sososososososo CUTEEEEE T^T my lil protecter forever SOB !! him with a cowboy hat… im drooling SOMEONE grab me that lasso !! I NEED TO CATCH THAT COWBOY !!

HELP OH MY GOSH i just looked up those animes you mentioned PLSPLSPLS “say i love you” he is LITERALLY kuroo’s reincarnation thats so silly im giggling !! AND WAHH wotakoi : love is hard for otaku looks so DARLING !! if it has a dub version i must watch it <3 i looked at some screencaps of it and just by the atmosphere i too can TOTALLY see you and tetsu in it !! IS IT OFFICE ROMANCE ?? YOU GUYS ARE SO OFFICE ROMANCE !!!!! :3

EEEP me and tinky time !! YIPEEE !!!!!! so, for pets in our lil universe we have a fishy that we love so dearly ( his name is bubblto. yes, bokuto named it after himself </3) but for the future we want to get a golden retriever puppy !! kou is such a dog person and that’s always been my dream dog :3 ( in me and akaashi’s universe, we have kitties !! which applies to my real life teehee :> ) but YES !! kou reminds me so much of a golden retriever so its only fitting we got one and named it something cute when the time comes :3

YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS !! MY OTP KUROMY QUESTION !! : do you and kuroo collect anything ?? if so, do you both by eachother things to add to one anothers collection ?? be it plushies, legos, buttons, i must know !! <3

OMIGOSH AIMSIES !! it is time… my ask does not end here because i am here with a yapfest. THE HAIKYUU MOVIE AND MORE !! ( my apologies in advance i feel so bad that im typing so much… forgive me </3)

for starters, THE HAIKYUU MOVIE AHHHHH !! STARTS SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS !!! i walked into that theater with my plushies and nekoma sweater ready to rock and roll <3 i walked out of that theater a new women. i was a bit sad there wasn’t much of kou, but kuroo made up for it because sweet LORD he looked so good :3 his laughs… the man pecs… his snarky comments… omg i was in heaven and im sure you were too. DAICHI CALLING HIM A DICK WAS SO FUNNY HELP T^T and omg !! i was so happy to see tendou there as well <3 EVERYONE LOOKED SOSOSO GOOD !! i must know what your favorite scenes were 😋

on other terms, can we talk about sanemi. sanemi shinazugawa love of my absolute life ??? pls aims he is so beautiful !! ive loved him since day one and im so happy that you love him too <3 we can giggle about him together !! my selfship with him is screaming in delight with the new season !! the dub couldn’t come any faster !! T^T HIS MAN BOOBS. sorry… im getting ahead of myself. i just thought id share that i’d like to kneed them like a cat… hes so delicious🙂‍↕️

ALSO AIMSIES WHEN THE HECK WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT BAKUGO WAS ONE OF YOUR BLORBIES AS WELL. we are the same i swear it !!!!!! katsuki is so precious, idk if you read the manga but the latest chapter was so :((( he is so precious NOBODY COULD EVER MAKE ME HATE HIM !! EVER !!

please excuse my yapfest i just had so much to talk about >_< i hope you’re doing well aimsies !! currently frolicking through the tall grass with you as we twirl under the sun, with our favorite men off to the side as they watch us with love and delight <3 we must have a picnic soon !! me you kou & kuroo !! SOB i missed you soso much </3 thank you for always being soso kind to me aimsies. there’s a lil tear slipping down my face because you are just so sweet and fill me with so much love !! YOU ARE A SHINING STAR !! i’m currently sending this letter off with a big smooch for you hoping it finds you well <3 until next time teehee !! MWUUUUAH <3

- :3 & tinky

MY BELOVED :3 !!! oh i am so sorry for how long this took me to respond. ive been reading it and rereading it ever since you sent it to me and i hope you know i cherish you with all of my heart ! it always makes me smile whenever i see you bloop into my asks <3

also we have the same brain methinks (or we share a lil braincell) bc i too type it all out in my notes app before i answer you :3

HOLD ON THO — you’ve watched a little one piece ?! oh i need you to come back and tell me all about it i fear … AND THE ZORO FIGURE ! i need to show u mine :> i have a few but i want more !!

im glad you’ve been doing well lovely <3 i know you watched windbreaker (still on my watch list sobsob im SO behind with anime rn) but what other animes have you been watching ??? did you watch ultraman rising … omg …

anytime you gush about me and kuroo i hope you know i literally ascend … jumping over the moon and dancing between the stars bc im so overjoyed LOL it means so much to me :’) i hope you know you were apart of the kuromy wedding mhm mhm you were right up there beside me with ur tinky ! we couldn’t have the day without u ;( !

you and bokutos pets are SAUR CUTEEE !!!! the lil fishie and golden retriever oh my heart … you guys are everything ! you and akaashi universe you say tho ??? is this a separate selfship or all together now hehe please i must know !

oh we def collect stuff ^_^ kuroo likes collecting cuff links for his suits. he has all sorts of ones and got hooked after his grandfather bought him his first set. he had so many different ones for so many different occasions ! (and not to mention so many that go with those silly ties) i definitely feed into it and try to find him cool & unique ones ! as for me.. i have my lil anime figure collection … i place them around the house aesthetically and he always indulges me 🙂‍↕️ im very picky about them but he knows what i like and will buy me the coolest ones at con !

TINKY TIME !!!!! okay so weddings on the brain i fear … do you and bokuto get married? if so, what’s the theme? aesthetic? colors? location ? WAAAAHH i wanna know all ! i love celebrating love sm im so nosy

NOW TO THE TASK AT HAND. the haikyuu movie. stop omg ur so cute going in with all your gear on !! an icon !! i wore my lil nekoma jersey to the second showing hehe had to rep man i fear i was over the moon for it though. that movie was so good i saw it three times and it wasn’t ENOUGH. i need to watch it again and again. kuroo caught sm strays in the movie BAHHAHA poor baby :((( made me think of a lil high school sweetheart au i fear ..

SANEMI AND BAKUGO PLS IM GIGGLING . you have taste my friend, excellent taste. i love them both so much but i haven’t given them nearly enough attention lately :( big sigh ! i miss them both dearly … need you to gush about them with me more !!!

SOB I LOVE U SO MUCH ! we are on our lil picnic rn and im feeding u strawberries and telling you all about the honeymoon teehee. thank you for being patient with me, i promise i wont take as long to respond next time ! june is just a v busy month for lil ole me !!!!! SMOOCHING U ALL OVER UR CUTE LIL FACE ! i hope life has been treating you well my dear

[dimepdf]

SEX, DRUGS, AND ROCK. + EDDIE MUNSON

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? summary. you devise a plan to confess your feelings for your best friend Eddie, and things quickly escalate beyond your expectations. author's note. just started watching S4 and haven't even finished it, already drooling over Eddie. ya'll know I love my awkward men with long hair my god he is so fine. everyone thank Bee below for proofreading &lt;3

[ ❥ ] pairing. eddie munson x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 3.3k

[ ❥ ] genre. 18+, pwp

[ ❥ ] warnings. no S4 spoilers, best friends to lovers, language, mature theme, slight drug usage, pet names, begging, body worship, whimpering, oral (f), thigh fetish, boob sucking, save a horse ride a cowboy, bottom eddie, slight sub/dom, protected sex, me not knowing how DND works

You and Eddie had been friends since the start of high school. You were there for the weird shaved head phase and stood directly right next to him the moment he developed his everlasting smitten crush on Chrissy Cunningham. Alas, you were the first girl to ever actually talk to him, the first friend, and at the moment, his only best friend.

You would do anything for the guy, as he would do the same for you.

You guys were inseparable, always hanging off of each other. His arm swung around your shoulder, and he sneaked into your bedroom at night to sleep on the floor just to get away from an argument he had with his uncle.

You hated to admit it, but you had fallen for your best friend. You despised how you had practically memorized every little habit and phrase he would suave from his lips, as well as the fluttering feelings and butterflies that swarmed inside you whenever he was around.

You couldn't help but smile at his stupid jokes and snarky insults.

But Chrissy Cunningham, the bane of your existence, was everything you weren't; popular, feminine, and the woman that Eddie had his eye on. You hated every time he would eye the girl from beside you. The heartache you had every time he would even mention the smallest thing about her.

Or when the other Hellfire Club members compared you two to a couple, and Eddie joked about how repulsive it would be to hook up with you because you were basically his "dude" female friend. You would just snort the joke off and refuse any hint of your feelings.

You don't know what has gotten into you.

Maybe it was your emotions finally building up from the many years that they were just ready to burst from the seams or the humanly concerning amount of edibles that you took to calm your heart from beating out of your chest, but you plotted the moment you had gotten home and laid on your bedroom floor staring up at your ceiling, that today was the day you were going to make your feelings known to Eddie Munson.

You couldn't keep your emotions in check any longer. You needed him to be aware of everything. You needed him. Your fingers hover over the phone, preparing to dial his number.

You exhale, slamming the phone down and throwing it off your nightstand, your fingers trembling. To hide the scream that came from your throat, you grabbed your pillow and pushed your face into it.

You summoned up enough courage to pick up your phone and pick at the skin on your bottom lip as the phone rang, flinching at the instant Eddie unexpectedly picked up from the other end of the phone, met with a brump. You could only presume he was eating at the time. "The one and only," he murmured.

"It's y/n, Eds." Listening to the other end's shuffling, faint music in the background, and Eddie's uncle saying something you couldn't make out, "Oh hey pretty princess, miss me already?" Even over the phone, you could see his trademark shit-eating grin.

"You wish Munson," you joke into the phone, spinning the phone cord as you reclined against your bed.

There was a quiet silence while you lay there listening to Eddie's guitar strumming softly, and the boy sighed.

"Are we just going to sit on the phone and whisper sweet nothings to each other, or did you call for a reason?" Your pulse pounded in response to the question, as your thoughts began to stutter you considered the string of sentences you wanted to construct.

"Uh, would you like to come over tomorrow to...study?" Another pause before spewing the first explanation that comes to mind. When your mouth opened, you flinched and clamped your eyes tight.

"Study?" Eddie repeated it almost as if you were speaking in a different language.

Even in your senior year, neither of you studied. You have never mentioned doing homework or classwork outside of school.

"Yeah, you know, we both need an English passing grade, so I just thought we could do it together to get it out of the way." You spoke swiftly and didn't stutter once, a master at lying. Figuring you'd dug yourself so far into a hole you might as well die in it, your fist pumped in the air as you mentally praised yourself.

"Okay, I'll be there. But I can't promise I won't be bored out of my mind." You didn't attempt to disguise your smile as you flopped onto your stomach, your feet springing up seemingly on their own as you ducked your head, "Okay, that was all bye."

And you threw your phone down, hanging up before he could say goodbye. Adrenaline coursing through your veins, as you pumped your feet higher in the air and pounded your fist into your pillows.

Eddie sat still on the edge of his bed on the opposite side of town, moving the phone away from his ear in confusion as his other hand rested on his guitar, lying on his thigh. He chuckled a little, scratching his head as he tried to piece together your thoughts.

You were just too difficult for him to figure out, never knowing what was going through your mind. You were always the only one that caught him off guard in a good way.

It was the day Eddie was invited to your house after school.

He didn't think much of it because you were acting normally in class and you two shared lunch. Eddie was clueless when it came to recognizing other people's emotions, which is why when you pulled him aside and told him you had to go home straight after school instead of attending Hell Fire Club, he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

He didn't think much of it because you weren't a big DND fan and when you did go to the club, you struggled to keep up with the shouting of commands and the story's progression.

He had to admit how adorable you looked as you struggled to understand some of the game rules that the boys had to explain to you over and over.

"Alright, the session is paused; if I show up too late, y/n is going to behead me," Eddie concluded, and Dustin's head shot up.

"It's Friday, dude. You said you'd give us another hour." Dustin grumbled, clearly annoyed, as he had probably planned to spend the majority of his night somewhere other than home since Suzie spent most of her time with her family on weekends.

"I don't care, y/n asked to hang," Eddie replied, packing his belongings as the majority of the members accepted defeat and left with their backpacks in hand. Dustin and Mike were the only ones who were the only ones left, as they both wanted to play a little longer.

"Don't you guys literally hang out all the time," Dustin continued, his tone tinged with annoyance, as Mike crossed his arms in agreement. "Yeah, you're always at her house unless you're planning on asking her out finally, what's the rush?" He cocked his brow in wonder.

Eddie shook his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, glaring at the two boys in front of him. "The lady asked to study. We're talking about y/n here." Eddie came to a halt as he walked away, hearing the two giggling behind him. He turned around and glared at the two again, rolling his eyes.

"No girl has ever asked to just study and then expected you to do so. Please, don't make me laugh." Mike's arms went to wrap around his torso as he couldn't stop laughing.

"And what the hell do you two fucking dweebs know about girls?" Eddie asked, puzzled. "In case you've forgotten, the only person in this room who is currently girlfriendless is you, Ed," Dustin said, raising his hand with a sarcastic smile plastered on his face and his braces shining under the light.

Mike gave Eddie a nod while pointing his finger in his direction, "Not after today,". Mike joked as he walked out of the club room, not bothering to entertain the two. Mike and Dustin trailed behind him, continuing to crack jokes. "Who would have guessed that y/n would be the first to make a move?" As the

two rode into the parking lot, the tall boy mocked his friend. Dustin parted, shouting, "don't forget to use protection!" successfully dodging Eddie's swing as he rode away.

The sound of the doorbell ringing caused you to jump out of bed and sprint from your bedroom to the front door. You'd been counting down the minutes since you got home in anticipation of seeing your best friend.

Eddie couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise when you swung open the door, his gaze immediately trailing over your bare legs because you were wearing shorts. An oversized black hoodie only covered the tops of your thighs.

Because he wasn't used to seeing you in anything other than your usual dark wash or black jeans that you wore to school—though it wasn't the first time he'd seen your bare legs.

He remembered how you used to drag the boy to the public swimming pool during the summer, wearing some carebear one piece your mother had bought you to swim in.

It was the first time you had changed in appearance since middle school and puberty, he noticed, his gaze breaking away from the plush of your thighs.

You pretended he hadn't noticed him staring at your legs as you laughed briefly before stepping aside and letting him in. As you snatched his hand and dragged him into your bedroom, Eddie watched as the hoodie rode up, struggling to cover your ass from behind.

The boy below swearing under his breath as his jeans tightened, cursing himself for trying to make a statement and wearing leather pants.

You sat on the floor as you swung open your bedroom door, all your homework spread across the floor, ready for you and Eddie to start. He immediately threw his bag on your mattress and sat across from you.

His gaze lowered at the sight of your thighs squishing as you sat on your knees, his gaze trailing over the flesh and stretch marks once more before he moved his gaze away, already fidgeting. "Would you like to listen to some music?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Eddie nodded before he could even process what you had asked. He thought back to Dustin and Mike teasing him, the memory clouding his mind as you fingered through your cassette collection before selecting the tape you knew Eddie would like.

"The Ramones, nice," he praised, smiling as you sat back down and met each other's gaze. "What else can I say? I discovered good music from the best." You responded sweetly, almost as if you didn't want him to avoid your gaze, which is exactly what you wanted. As your smile faded, you decided that now was the best time to end it all.

"I—uh, Eddie, I think I have something to tell you." He had noticed how your voice was just a little higher than a whisper, and his intense glance peering at you had his face suddenly get serious in tune with yours.

"Yeah, what's up? Are you okay?" His voice was so gentle with you as his hand reached to comfort your shoulder and his touch comforted you as you leaned into it.

Screw it, you thought, screw your entire well-thought-out plan about how you were going to talk him up before sneaking in your confession. You couldn't wait anymore. You spent your entire high school years waiting. You needed to spill your feelings to him.

After all, he was your best friend and you were both probably about to leave for college after graduation if anything happened that would end your friendship.

The two of you could manage to make this less awkward for each other if he didn't return the feelings as you raised your head to finally look at him. Eddie patiently waited for you to speak.

"Okay, please don't hate me, but I can't stop thinking about you and I'm fucking ashamed that I do. I know you like Chrissy, and every time I hear you talking about her I want to just, like die. I hate it when you talk about her because I want to be with you, to hold hands and do all the sappy love shit you know, to kiss you and—fuck, I don't know."

Eddie swallowed as you stumbled and struggled to find your words, and you froze as you watched him turn away, his eyes closing before turning back and reaching for your face, his lips on yours.

Eddie crawled over the pages of homework to push himself closer to you towering over you as his hands intruded under the bottom of your shirt going under the fabric as his fingers traced over your bare skin wrapping around your waist.

As the kiss deepened quickly, only the sounds of The Ramones playing throughout your room could be heard, along with the wet sounds of your tongues coaxing each other. As you tilted your head up and pressed your body against Eddie's, your mind became clouded with sexual desire.

Your hands reached behind his head to grab a fistful of his hair as he longed for more of you.

His groan was quickly swallowed by yours as he trailed the top of your shirt, pausing to touch the underwire of your bra. As Eddie fluttered his eyes open, his lips glistened and his eyes foggy with desire, you were the first to pull away for air. "I—uh, like you a lot, if that's not clear." His chuckle was deep, as the only thing he could stare at was your lips.

As you giggled, crashing your lips back into his. Eddie hummed, breaking away again, his fingers rubbing against the fabric of your bra. "Is this all right?" He breathed out.

You responded by removing your jacket and quickly removing your shirt to reveal your dark navy bra. It wasn't anything special to you, just a regular Macy's bra that your mother had chosen from a pack for you, but Eddie's starstruck gaze made it appear otherwise.

As he played with your tits, massaging them through the bra, almost trembling at the sounds you made every time his fingers brushed against what he assumed were your nipples through the material.

You reached out your hand to unclamp the bra, allowing Eddie's hands to touch your bare breasts. As he watched you shiver, his fingers ghosted over your nipples, feeling his rough, cold fingers fondle your warm flesh.

His head dipped lower before grabbing a handful of your boobs and placing his lips along your chest, trailing his sloppy kisses up your neck with each. You raised your hand to muffle the lewd moans that were escaping from your mouth.

As you became aware of the problem that was being pushed against your knee, the sensation of his tongue and teeth grazing your skin became dangerous for both of you.

Eddie lowered his gaze to your breasts once more, his lips latching onto your left nipple as his other hand teased the right, tongue sucking and teeth taunting. Your moans grew louder as you realized your parents were gone for the evening.

As Eddie's grunt vibrated against your nipple, your hand reached to the back of his head, fingering through the strands before pulling his hair once.

As you pressed your hand against the male's chest, you were both intoxicated by each other's touch. Eddie immediately backed away, fearful of making a mistake. An apology was on the verge of being spoken before you sat on his lap, leaning against your mattress.

As he didn't waste time removing his shirt, the sensation of your thin shorts against his clothed cock almost made him choke. Your gaze was drawn to the numerous tattoos strewn across his pale skin.

Eddie prayed that you wouldn't notice how fast his heart was beating, almost like it was trying to break free from his ribcage, as your hand dragged down his chest.

When your lips left red marks on Eddie's skin, he leaned back in acceptance. When your tongue brushed against his skin, his face went a soft pink. "Holy shit, princess, you have no idea what you're doing to me." Eddie let out a gasp. You felt yourself react to the sight of his body beneath you as he helped you remove both of your pants.

There's something about the sarcastic, emotionally shut-off male who's at your mercy.

The boy whimpered as his eyes rolled and his head leaned back the moment your hands freed and wrapped around his length. His swollen lips and flushed face, eyes begging you to ruin him, made you feel so confident as you held eye contact.

His chest rose with a low moan as he watched you touch him through slitted eyes, his cock jerking in response to your touch.

The taste of his pre-cum coated your tongue as you wrapped your lips around his hard leaking tip, the warmth of your mouth making Eddie whimper uncontrollably.

As if you were attempting to steal his soul, his fist fisted into your bedsheets. As you took his entire length, his pubes tickled the top of your lips. Eddie moaned from the back of his throat, the pressure in his chest growing unbearable as he bit his fist.

“I want...can you ride me please?” As he begged for you so shyly, his tone was pitiful. You sat up on your knees, leaning over his face, the pop of his cock leaving your mouth making him swallow.

As you reached for the drawer of your night, Eddie tried not to drool at the sight of your boobs hanging so close to his face. Grabbing one of the condoms given to you by your guidance counselor the day you were sent home for wearing a tank top.

Eddie didn't ask why you had one as his mind was clouded by the sight of your bare chest as you rolled the condom down his length, his eyes filled with desire and need as you slowly lowered yourself down on his cock.

The new sensation of the warmth of your folds and the wetness of you around his dick made him roll his eyes with pleasure. “Holy shit, you feel so good.” His hands groped you, squeezing your flesh. Eddie didn't bother to hold back his moans when you finally began to bounce on his dick. Reaching for your lips as you kissed passionately, biting lightly on his lip.

The sensation made his dick twitch in you. Your movements were too much for him, he was moaning and panting mess, squeezing your ass and helping you fuck him while on the other hand, he was thrusting deep inside you.

He chased his own climax as his hips rose to meet you, the bubbling hot pleasure rising as his hands shook, your movement becoming sloppy and fast.

“Oh, god I'm gonna cum Eds.” You can feel him twitching inside of you as soon as the words leave your lips, the condom catching his thick string of cum as his legs shook. The moans leave his lips soft and gentle, the feeling of you clenching around him during your own climax driving him over the edge.

It took you both a long time to recover as you lay next to each other catching your breath, Eddie with his arm draped to cover his face as the price of his harsh breathing raised his chest. As you tilted your head to look at him, his other hand reached for yours.

“Can you only study like this with me from now on?”

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[shadowbender19]

And we’re back folks, if not a few days late. Sorry about that, I had to write a classics essay, of all things, so that held me up a tad. Despite that, here are my live thoughts and reactions for the new (and final :( ) Heartless video. Enjoy!

Alastor

“Curse of the hollow” is a vibe of a name, also I giving me Molly flashbacks

Ah yes, Genshin, something that I definitely know about (sarcastic)

Mythology vibes? We Stan

I love the attitude of, even if it gets scrapped or the comic never gets made, its fine, its fun to make. It’s a great philosopher towards creation

Yeah, he do be a vampire

Black hole/void magic is so cool. The audio it brings to mind is stunning

I love a spooky arm

The stars are plot significant

You can tell that I love the spooky arm thing, cause it is the main aesthetic of one of my D&D characters lol

Lorelei

I hate spelling her name, brain says no

I know that poster girl is a very common phrase, but for Lorelei specifically, it gives such a strong image. Those huge theatre posters that can’t fit on your wall, yeah that

Shoutout to all the people who did the black swan fanart

(Notes app tried to correct ‘fanart’ to ‘canary’ apple explain)

Ah yes, bird

Lorelei’s outfit being even slightly based on a wrestler is such a vibe. I don’t know what that vibe is, but it is indeed a vibe

Star placement is once again iconic. I feel like I’ll be saying that a lot tonight

The idea of the Lorelei fandom that almost certain exists in the Heartless universe having wild conspiricy theories about her tattoos gives me life, cause you know they would.

Diana

Cool cowboy + spy is a stunning aesthetic. That post about stealth vs. Russian stealth is strong with this one

The Eye!

As someone going through a Sandman phase, the ideas that come to mind at Diana being based on the Fates are numerous

The wld west vibes + the snakes are stunning.

So many references I don’t understand lol. Is this how my friends feel every time I speak?

Taking the two ‘heavy hitter’ characters and giving them the most ‘big brain strats’ fighting dynamic would make for such fun fights. Especially compared to other random fights that may happen in the series

Lance

The bastard boi!

Yes Alex, make it gayer. As God intended

My screen is small so I cannot see the face. Very sad

Alastor makes Lance captain for one day. He thinks, the guys literally a knight, how bad could it be? Next day Alastor revokes Lance’s position as captain

Alastor walking into a cell block, pointing at Lance and saying that one before walking out as the guards release Lance.

I don’t know why Lance is giving me the strong fan fiction ideas but here we are

He would call his sword teeth

He do be Erza

I actually did watch the video after he mentioned it in the last video. If you haven’t I highly recommend. Stunt people are icons. And nerds apparently

Eira knowing the ex-owners of Lance’s swords is great angst material.

Part of me says ‘armour cool’ Gremlin brain says ‘armour go clang when he walk’

I have not yet mentioned how much I love this specific art style from these videos so I will say so now.

Scales look amazing. That’s the comment

Shiny orange on the armour giving me NRG from ben 10 vibes

Scales on the sword handle. I love the attention to detail

Bandy

My beloved

He do be giving Mr Compress Vibes since day 1

Swap

The personality swap fits are great guys, never stop

(There’s a character in the current fairy tail manga who does something like this in a really fun way. Not relevant just came to mind)

The line between cliche and aesthetic is very thin

When he said, ‘not just normally playing cards’, my brain went straight to the idea of him having an absurd amalgamation of different card sets. Like he has a few Pokemon cards, a yugioh card, maybe something from magic the gathering. Black cards makes a lot more sense

Swap

Contract demons. terrifying

Pretty hair!

Puff go the sleeves

(Good lord my gremlin brain is taking over these comments)

I think I would prefer the banter rather than miming, but that’s just me.

I love this pose

Dock

Dock is probably the character I’ve seen the most fanart of

Right there! Love that he labeled it

Gross and scary and kind of decomposing. Now more people are going to have a crush on him

OMG, he’s an empath

Goop

We love a creepy cleric

“Pause for ADHD moment”

Another creepy arm!

Can’t wait to see this coloured (specifically talking about creepy hand)

“And also, pretty hot” - I have no words. I love

Alex paying specific mention to Dock showing his arm gives me the same vibe as that Tumblr post about the Mandelorians wrist

Love the Disney villain green on this guy

I was right, the creepy arm looked great in colour.

Final thoughts- This new style continues to impress me. I don’t know enough about art to say what’s change, but I absolutely adore it. The way it makes things glow especially sparks joy.

The curse names give me such strong DND vibes, specifically subclasses. But that may just be that bloodhunter subclasses are all order and they use curses. No more Heartless videos makes me sad, I hope that we get more content in the future. It may take some time for me to get excited at the idea of a new concept corner, but I know I will and I know I’ll love it. Heartless has been, and probably will continue to be my comfort YouTube series.

[silvervulture1021]

Day Of The Dead

This is a Danny Phantom Fanfic

Word count: 1,265

Warnings: mentions of death, experiencing intense pain

When you think of the day of the dead, you generally think of the Mexican holiday. However, in the ghost zone, day of the dead is a separate occasion. It is the day when every dead haunt feels the pain they felt when they died. Not every ghost does, only dead haunts do. A dead haunt is a ghost who died as a human. The other ghosts that dont feel this pain are manifest haunts who were ghosts created from the negative and angry thoughts of other ghosts.

Skulker was one of those manifest ghosts. He never understood this day. This day was treated as a truce, just like Christmas. He hated it, there was no one around to hunt or bother. He growled and kicked a rock, sending it floating into the ghost zone. “Where is he?!” He yelled, blasting the floating rock with his blaster.

His best friend Technus was supposed to be meeting him today to talk about evil schemes. He knew Technus felt pain, but he figured it would only last a few minutes. Skulker didn't know much about the genius tech wiz’s past, but he didn’t think it was much. However he was getting nervous, maybe he should check on him.

Wings unfolded from the back of his mech suit, starting up the engines. The jetpack carried him across the ghost zone. It felt eerie, no one was out. Usually a few would be out causing mayhem, or at least just being out, but no one was. Finally, the small lab Technus called his lair came into view. Skulker landed outside and walked towards it. It looked like your stereotypical crazy mad scientist laboratory.

Skulker grabbed the door handle and tried to push it opened. Locked. “Dammit Technus.” They didn’t need locks, so why the hell did he lock his door? Well, he can always phase through the wall. His body went transparent and pushed his hand against the door. He was supposed to phase right through, but a shock made him reel his hand back. “Dammit!” He yelled. Technus must have installed a trap.

Skulker spent fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to get inside. Technusmust have a ghost-like field that will only let them in if the door is opened. He decided to give up, if Technus wanted to hang out he’d have come out already. He turned to go, readying his jetpack.

Then he heard a scream. It was a blood curdling scream, filled with agony. Skulker turned around and pounded on the door. “TECHNUS?!” It had to be Technus screaming. He needed to get to him, but how?

An idea struck him, and he knew he’d regret it. “I’m doing this for you Technus, just hang in there.” He mumbled as he typed something into his PDA strapped to his wrist. His jetpack came back out, and he shot back out into the ghost zone.

Walker’s prison loomed into view and Skulker landed outside the gates.He could hear the groans of pain from the prisoners from out here. At least Walker didn’t have a ghost field.

Skulker walked into the prison, right towards the Warden’s office. Walker’s office. Walker wasn’t exactly a threat to Skulker, but he was strong enough to put up a fight so the bounty hunter didn’t tangle with the warden. Without knocking he threw the door open and let himself in.

A man in an old style cowboy hat and white jacket looked up from the desk he sat at. He was slumped over, gripping his chest. Skulker didn’t know Walker was a dead haunt. “What do you want, Skulker?” Walker asked as he gripped the edge of the chair, pain racking through his chest.

“The Skeleton Key. Hand it over Walker.” Skulker demanded. That key can open any lock in both the human and ghost world. With that key he could get into Technus’ laboratory. “Now!” He yelled.

Walker did not look impressed. He leaned back against his chair, the bullet hole in his jacket visible. That was how he died. “That’s against the rules, Skulker, I can’t do that. Besides, do you really want to bother me today? Today of all days? I do not want to deal with whatever scheme you have brewing in that thick skull of yours.” He informed him.

“Technus is in trouble. I don’t know what’s happening but he’s screaming so loud I’m shocked you can’t hear it! He’s hurt, Walker, and I want to help him. I can't get in his lair without that key. Using the key is against the rules, but helping a ghost in need isn’t. I know that. Now give me the key.” He held his hand out expectantly.

Walker rolled his eyes, however Skulker wasn’t wrong. He had a responsibility to protect the ghosts, so if Technus really was in danger then he should give Skulker the key. He sighed and opened up the drawer under his desk, taking out a green key with a skull at the top. Reluctantly he placed the key in his hand. “If that key ain’t back in my hand by sundown, you’ll have a worse punishment than the man that killed me.” He threatened.

Skulker took the key and flew off without even a thank you. He was worried, which wasn’t an emotion Skulker was used to. He felt a certain way when he was around the tech genius, fuzzy and warm inside.

As soon as he reached the laboratory he put the key in the key hole. The door creaked open and he barreled through that door, finally able to enter. The screams of agony louder inside.

“TECHNUS!” Skulker yelled, announcing his presence. A groan as a response came from the basement, where he resided. Skulker booked it down the stairs towards the electrical ghost’s screams.

What he saw terrified him, and he wasn’t easy to scare.

The room was destroyed. Monitors were smashed, tools were scattered and shelves were knocked over. In the middle of it lay the neon green ghost Technus, his wiry white hair sprawled out around him as he screamed and screamed. The way he moved, it was horrific. He writhed as if he were being tortured.

The bounty hunter kneeled down and scooped Technus up in his arms, pulling him close. He wasn't sure how to comfort him but he tried. “Technus, I’m here. It’s ok. You're safe.”

Technus didn’t try to get away, but he continued to writhe and scream for hours. After about six hours of screaming, he relaxed against Skulker’s chest, curling up and whimpering.

Skulker rubbed his back and sighed. “Technus, tell me…how did you die?” He asked softly. He never knew what happened to the poor man.

It took a minute for the other man to respond, but finally he did. “When I was in my twenties a few men kidnapped me..they claimed I could help them hack some military computers to get the codes they needed. I don’t remember a lot about it…they tortured me..” He groaned, pulling Skulker a little closer. “After beating me half to death and realizing I couldn’t help them…They threw me in a pool and put high voltage wires in it. It lasted for hours..it was the most pain I had ever felt.” He admitted. Finally he looked up at him. “Thank you for being here for me…no ones ever been here for me..”

Skulker smiled and leaned back against the wall, pulling Technus on top of him in a comforting manner. “I will never leave your side…”

[ohheyitsokay]

classic

pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: none, tropes on tropes on tropes, weird descriptions of things

summary: good, old fashioned fan fiction chaos

notes: there’s no getting around it - everything I write with Jack is inevitably influenced and inspired by @scribbledghost s version of him, particularly her neighbor!whiskey. I tried not to, but I still feel I should give credit!

>>

It was the kind of razor your grandfather would have used – more of a knife than anything, because of course it was.

Of course this would be edge that your housemate used to slide along his jaw and chin and cheeks to make that perfect mustache before work in the mornings. He was the type to love old fashioned, traditional, dangerous things - it made sense. After all, that was why you were staying in the guestroom of his ranch home while your apartment was being renovated. Old fashioned courtesy between friends, of course.

Dangerous.

Jack had caught you watching him, impressed in spite of yourself as the sharp blade scraped over his neck, neatly slicing the hairs on his throat, and pushing your heart into yours. It was unnecessarily intense, dramatic, the touch of risk for the sake of vanity. It made you swallow, awed that he wasn’t covered in little cuts, and almost aroused at how casually he used something so akin to a weapon. And that alone made him smirk, cocky, as though he had been waiting for you to notice, hoping to impress you.

A few days later he’d coaxed you to him, settled in a chair with his legs spread wide with confidence as he handed you the tool, smug with confidence – almost a challenge. He had gotten wrecked at work – he actually had, and it was the perfect excuse to draw you close, make you bend to his will. Schoolyard tactics, really, but all of this was, and it was worth it to have your eyes on him alone, face a breath away from his.

It was about trust more than anything. Not that you would ever hurt him, but the power of being over him was heightened by the intimacy as you lathered the cream over his skin.

His deep eyes bore into you, not flickering to the blade as you tried to focus on your task. If he had asked you a different time, another day, you maybe could have refused, but somehow his wanting your steady hand felt heavy with implication.

Ignoring the quickening steps of your heart, your fingers grasped his chin, shaving away the stubble he’d let grow just for this. Each slice of smooth skin revealed left a thick line of froth and hairs on the blade, and you got to breathe as your turned away to wipe it off. You could feel his gaze, still, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. Hovering over him while he was seated, touching his jaw, leaning close, and meeting those brown eyes would have been too much.

Your denial was as a solid as a wall with half sunk into the ground with cement – almost rooted in your fear of rejection.

It was a challenge to ignore the shots of adrenaline that filled you when he’d reach around you to grab something in the fridge, his chest against your back, hand on your hip. Already you had shoved down the butterflies in your stomach when he’d offered you a place to stay, carried your boxes, and called you sweetheart. You had spent far to long ignoring the way he hadn’t brought a single girl home since you’d been there to fold now and admit anything. Because if you did, there was a chance you would lose your friend forever, and that was out of the question.

You kept your eyes down to keep your hands steady.

For his part, Jack’s plan was only half working. He liked your attention, liked the way your breath hitched as you wiped him clean. But you were closer than you had ever been, patting in the aftershave and you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t open the door for him to push the tools and towels aside and kiss you. All he wanted was to grab hold of you and pull you into his lap and make you melt against him but there wasn’t a moment.

You’d been friends for a long time, been there for each other countless times and he had yearned for you almost as long. At first, he tried to deny it too, grabbing at random women and hating himself when he imagined they were you as he pulled them into his room.

Then he’d given that up, stopped pretending anyone could replace you, that anyone else occupied his dreams, anyone else could be as good a fit for him, and went after you full speed. It had honestly been innocent to invite you to stay, instinct instilled in him from his childhood. Still, he had begun to see the opportunities for the two of you to enjoy intimate domesticity right away, when he’d cooked you dinner and you’d talked at his table for hours, finally not worried about having to drive home. He ached for that – not ever really having to leave you, and he spent more nights than he’d like to admit thinking of knocking on your door.

Only… you were still in your denial phase. Not sleeping around just pretending it was normal to sink into his arms after a bad day, to let your friend play with your hair until you fell asleep, to watch his lips as you gently helped him shave.

It was too vulnerable, to high of a risk to go after you with the chance that you weren't ready. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away.

-

“What, really?” you said, genuinely surprised. When you’d accepted to stay, he’d promised you there would be no problems, but now you felt guilty.

His mama was coming to town, and would more than likely be staying with him.

“I’ll find somewhere else!”

Jack was already shaking his head at you, like you were missing the joke, but he looked… almost nervous? You couldn’t tell, it wasn’t something you saw on his face often.

“Actually, sweetheart, I was hoping you could do me a favor,” he was asking, but it’s not like you could actually say no you him, when he shot that winning smile your way. It was like not petting a puppy – and you were the opposite of allergic to cowboy secret agents.

“You know Mama Daniels,” he said and you smiled, having spent many a summer helping her in her garden, and being thanked with dinners heavy with butter and love. “She’ll like you here, she’ll be over the damn moon.” And you conceded. It would be more than nice, to spend time with such a wonderful woman, an Jack had invested in a very comfortable couch. For a week you enjoyed a hopeful bliss, that she would help remind you Jack was just your friend.

The sun was shining through the windows, the winding almost singing a quiet, breathy song, and everything was as spotless as you could manage. Well worn quilts were clean, and you had set up a little station for yourself in the living room determined to make it your home for the week.

Then she came with a jacket that matched her slacks and shoes with little buckles and a paisley suitcase full of presents for her son, who she insisted wasn’t really grown. She hugged you and scolded you for being at work instead of coming to pick her up, and finally settled at the kitchen table, her intentions clear. You were to sit and catch up - Jack was already pulling the sweet tea you’d made from the fridge and a reused sewing tin filled with butter cookies appeared out of her purse.

Meekly, you sat, knowing if you didn’t eat the cookies in quantity, she would pout her whole visit. You could feel Jack settle at your side as she talked, warm and solid, a comfort, despite the heat of the day.

The cookies disintegrated on your tongue, melting with a burst of sweet before the bite was gone. They were full of love and maternal affection and things that you hated to spend money on and made all bad thoughts disappear. You were thankful your mouth was full of one when she mentioned, offhandedly, how plum delighted she was when she found out the two of you were finally dating. Abruptly, you remembered just how wrong your previous hope was.

The sweet lady had been hinting for you to marry her son since before he’d mastered his first lasso, and apparently, she was sure that moment was well on its way.

“And living together, no less!” she was beaming with pride, tradition apparently irrelevant as she chatted happily about it.

Turning to the man by your side, you found him choking, trying to breathe through the cookie he’d accidentally inhaled. There was a white ring around his irises as he stared at you, panicking and aptly confused. Sure your face matched his, you jerked your head at his mother, a silent argument ensuing.

Did you do this?

No!

What do we do?

We can’t break her heart!

It went unnoticed. You felt helpless, drinking your tea and trying not to have a small meltdown in front of a very misinformed lady who had brought you cookies.

He was your friend! And sure, you liked the weight of his arm around your shoulders or could get lost in the drawl of his voice but that was normal! It was normal to be so comfortable with him as the beginning, end, and highlight to each of your days.

Sounding weak even to yourself, a crack, solid and formidable, formed in the wall you created to protect yourself and the friendship you had built.

“Ma’am, I’ll be back in a moment,” you whispered, grabbing your phone as you grasped at air, hoping beyond logic that you could pretend it was an important call.

You didn’t exactly run away, but you walked very quickly outside, mourning the loss of your little guestroom, and the privacy it offered.

Jack would never, ever smack his mama but he did want to say some choice words. Nothing could have prepared him for the last two minutes of his life, first the embarrassment of the misunderstanding and then… the fear in your eyes.

He hated it, hated it so much more than he ever thought he could, hated that it was probably his fault it was there. And he hated that it shrouded the longing he had begun to see there, these past few weeks. Long strides carried him after you, hearing his own voice distantly saying words, explaining maybe, as he left the table.

There was a tree, trunk too wide to wrap your arms around, thicket of leaves creating bean-shaped shadow on the ground, by one corner of his home.

You were behind it, almost like a child, letting the bark press lines into your forehead. The dappled lighting did wonders for you – you looked the perfect picture of a storybook wanderer in distress.

Jack slowed, overwhelmed with the desire to encompass you in his arms, slay your dragons, and whisk you away. Now was not the time.

He kept his voice soft, reaching for you in place of his hands, trying hopelessly to find the root of your panic.

You were just as quiet, telling him it was fine, you would pretend, as long as you’d talk tonight, after she went to sleep. His heart was creating dramatic movie scenes where you would float into his room, declaring your love for him, before settling in his arms, but he shook them away, agreeing.

Smile over-bright, you touched his smooth cheek a moment too long, before pushing past him back towards the house.

He allowed the afterglow of his daydream to wash over him only a moment before he jogged go catch up with you.

-

The quilt on Jack’s bed had chickens on it, of all things. It was one of those that had clearly been homemade, years and years ago, taken care of, but worn at the edges with memories and use. One pillow had a dent for his head, the other was squashed into an unrecognizable shape

You didn’t know that it wasn’t like that, before. That his arms had only started searching for something to hold onto since you had been around.

All of his room was new to you – it made you feel strange, realizing that for weeks you’d been in his home but not this part of his space.

The afternoon his mother came, he’d been called into the field. You had never quite seen the look on his face as he reasoning fell on deaf ears – desperation and frustration like ants ruining honey on a picnic. The flannel across his back bunched as his shoulders had filled with tension before he stripped it off to change into his work clothes. Jack kissed his mothers cheek and spewed instructions for the both of you, some apologies spilling out and others kept just behind his eyes as he grasped your hand.

His final command was for your ears alone -  that you take his room, and you’d been too panicked to refuse. The last three days, the smell of him and the memorabilia  scattered around the space kept you company when his mother went to sleep and you slept in his bed for the first time, alone.

It was surprising how sentimental he was. His hooks had another cowboy hat on them, a little wider, brown, and considerably more worn. There was a stack of printed photos in a little box by his bed – it was open, and some of the photos had oil-worn fingerprints along the edges. You found ones of you, and your heart flipped inside your chest.

You should have realized it was impossible to deny yourself, your feelings, with him surrounding you like this. Each thing you learned, each reminder of him practically reached off of the walls, as if he were there, coaxing your heart into his hands. It felt silly, almost, that you even tried to ignore it - you had missed him the moment his hand left yours. Now you had all the time to process, surrounded by his neatly folded shirts and the line of his favorite boots.

The idealized illusion of your relationship had only lasted half a day of living with his mother. Her warm brown eyes were too much like her son’s – you couldn’t lie to them. It was good though, for her to hold your hand a listen to you talk as the birds gossiped outside the window and steam seeped out of the pie you helped her bake. Miraculously, she wasn’t disappointed with you, commending your honestly, and explaining that if she was patient until now, then she could certainly continue to do so.

The more you talked to her, the more you suspected that she was right, all along. She helped you dig up the walls, her kind determination the shovel you needed for those concrete roots.

You would work and talk and tuck yourself into his chicken-clad blanket at night and finally, finally let yourself think of him, allow yourself to be in love with him.  You didn’t know he had started actually living in his room again, when he’d started letting himself love you. That he thought of your smile when he’d found his old quilt. Still, the more you thought, the more you could admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, he loved you too.

That was how Jack found you - absorbed in your thoughts - the whiskey in his hand as forgotten as the mission and the agent he’d played for the past seventy eight hours and twenty one minutes.

He watched through the half open door, words failing him as you sat up, startled and the way your eyes searched for injuries made him want to eat you alive. 

There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for the sight of you in his bed, even though he had told you to be there and three days to daydream about it. It was intensely intoxicating, having someone care for you so intimately. 

With his sheets sliding down around your waist, you looked as good as the pie on the counter, as if a single snapshot could encompass everything he wanted home to be.

You were wearing a shirt he’d given you, years ago, and he swallowed, hard.

“Are you up for that talk?” his voice was rough. It would have been nice, to relish in the feeling of you checking him over, attention on him as he unwound, but he couldn’t wait. This moment was three days overdue.

“I told your mom we aren’t dating,” you blurted and he smiled, having guessed as much. Smoothing the blanket, your hand patted the spot next to you, your legs crossing.

In that, Jack knew something had changed since he left you. The flickering fear had fled your eyes, and you seemed settled into your skin more than ever before.

He sat next to you, having played over how this talk would go a million times, and still not finding the right words. Confidence was easier to find when he was flirting, poking at you, but seemed foreign in the din lights of his bedroom. Instead he shifted trying to lean back with his arm along the headboard, hoping he didn’t seem like a teenager trying to buy himself time.

You began to talk, saving him, and all the things you’d processed with his mama tumbled out of you before you were realizing that you were confessing how much he truly meant you. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been strange how comfortable you felt, but in the moment, you were in awe.

Jack was as handsome as always, if a little roughed up, like he’d worn the same clothes a few days in a row. You wanted to run your fingers over the short, patchy beard he had going, and without a second thought, you did, feeling his cheeks move as he smiled crookedly and leaned into the touch.

There was only a moment of quiet, crickets outside, before he said, “I missed you, too.” And then, “Will you stay, sweetheart?”

When you whispered, “Where else would I go?” he kissed you.

It was late, and there were still words unsaid, questions to be answered, but you both let yourselves get lost, exploring each other. Long moments passed, letting all the pent up yearning overflow like cool water after a long, hot day. Then the next steps came out, whispered between kisses and as he moved over you, shucking the final walls between you, you found yourselves actually dating, and maybe even actually living together. 

Old fairy tales and historic romances played in the back of your mind, inserting their logic into your life like had never quite made sense before.

And you wondered if you had time in the morning, and his mama didn’t give you too much grief, if he would let you help him shave, and eat pie for breakfast. Because for the life of you, you couldn’t think of a single reason why not.

<<

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @0celestialbitch0 @beautyagegoodnesssize

[geminicollisionworks]

Youth Wants It Now! A Couple of ALTHAAR Questions, Answered!

Hiya, gang!

Still at work on the next episodes of Althaar. Continued apologies for the delay.

Scripts still being finished, as such:

Not exactly any spoilers for the first 20 seconds or so of Episode 34... but as you see, we haven't quite gotten to that last phase of writing every script, where Berit and I go through line-by-line and fill in all the bits still in wiggly brackets where Berit isn't happy with what was there and we have to brainstorm for 45 minutes to replace one disliked word.

Meanwhile, a couple of new questions have come in across social media, so it's time for some more answers (and we're always open to all questions, thoughts and comments from listeners, of course).

So anyway, JanglesPrime on Twitter asks us:

I've been listening to the series from the beginning again, and I want to ask: how Human do the Robots look? Like, are some like Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation, and are very human? But then Bubbles seems closer to Rosie the Robot [from The Jetsons] but would be a newer model than the history bots of the Fairgrounds?

...I know, I'm being nerdy. It is theater of the mind after all.

Not at all! As I at least see it, the Histori-Bots look very Human because (and only because) they're supposed to. Maybe a hair closer than Data, but I think one could tell they're not Human (however so is up to you). Perhaps, as Berit suggests, now that they don't have to look exactly like their historical figures, some of them might just leave panels open, or other exposed ports, etc. that are more convenient to have easily accessible.

Bubbles, like other specialized Robots, is just made to be good at her functions, so yeah, Rosie isn't a bad image! -- especially as she'd be designed with some anthropomorphic elements since she's meant to interact with the public. But very clearly a machine.

(Not Bubbles, but maybe in the ballpark)

And on Reddit, ConflagWex asks us:

What's the deal with Stalin-Bot's obsession with Stetson hats? I know it could just be a random quirk he acquired while on the Fairgrounds, but was wondering if there's some sort of historical joke about the original Stalin that I'm missing. I couldn't find any connection between Stetson hats and Russia, other than the fact that Stetson makes a version of the ushanka hat.

Okay... Had to check with others on this to see if I had the full story...

I thought it might just be a bit of randomness by Linus Gelber, who wrote that script (and plays Stalin-Bot). Berit remembers it being a riff on how Chekov on Star Trek always claimed inventions from other countries as being from Russia, but Linus says he wasn't aware of that as a thing, so Berit might have added that part in the rewrite. Linus did once work on a play about Stalin's doubles that mentioned Uncle Joe had a fondness for American Westerns and especially John Wayne, so that factoid might have contributed.

(montage of Chekov's "Russian history" moments from TOS:)

https://youtu.be/IC6W8J0j8Co

In the end though, it seems to have originated from an Althaar writers' meeting (when we could still have them in person) where Linus observed that fellow writer Lex Friedman would look good with a moustache -- very dashing! While Lex is a woman, all of us fellow writers had to agree that a suave moustache would indeed suit Lex to a T:

(See, wouldn't Lex look good with a moustache?)

Somehow this worked around in Linus's head to giving Frall a moustache, and then to creating a reason (if you could call it that) for WHY Frall would decide to grow one (it was Berit who I think noted that it had to be "an authentic cookie-duster" as Frall wouldn't half-ass it), and "cowboy outfit" was as good a reason as any. How exactly a nebulous energy being wears a hat (let alone actual facial hair) without a head or face was left deliberately mysterious.

As someone who wears a Stetson hat himself just about every time he leaves home (noir kind more than western), I appreciate the salute to the brand.

(STETSON!)

So... more as it happens. Still at work, but... two of the Althaar actor/writers have got COVID in the last week (they're responsible, vaxxed, and boosted people), another is still dealing with her two month old baby, and I'm getting over a nasty sinus infection where the side-effects of the medication aren't as bad as what's being fixed, but they're not great.

We're... okay... for all that, but still not at 100%. When we are... Life With Althaar WILL return!

IWH/GCW

[cosmixbun]

For those who don’t know the song ‘Hallelujah Money’, it is a song released by the band, ‘Gorillaz’ on the ‘Humanz’ album on January 17, 2017. Or more known as the eve of Donald Trump’s inauguration (keep this in mind, it’s very important.). The majority of the vocals were sung by Benjamin Clementine, the rest of course, was 2-d. The lyrics can be found here, if you want to read them. The music video can be found here. I suggest watching and reading both before really looking into this.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a big music person, I only find music video interest in the Gorillaz music videos. If I say something that you do not believe or have differing opinions, great. This is just what I bring to the table all these years later. There’s plenty more where I come from.

THE VIDEO:

I’m going to explain as best as I can with both parts so bear with me. Again, it would help to watch the video to see the background and the emotions in the video as portrayed by Benjamin. So, in the music video upon opening, we see the only person who will be the center of the whole music video, Benjamin. We see him in a shiny, gold building. This hallway, in the building, is a reference to the Trump Tower and Benjamin is portraying Trump, or at the least his ideals. The background images that are used in the music video are disturbing and can sometimes set an uneasy feeling. I’m not going to go super in depth on each image or video because there’s a lot but you can find the breakdown somewhere. In the music video we see flashes for symbols or things that symbolize power, such as the pyramid with the eye on the back of the US dollar bill (which is said to represent God or the illuminati, so pick one), a cowboy, and even a creepy clown video (not really a ‘power’ in a societal sense, but they affected how we lived for a while.) While the videos and pictures are shown in the back, the lyrics are being said. The majority of the time, the video and pictures have somewhat no connotation to the lyrics being sung. The end of the video ends with a clip of Spongebob screaming and crying, this was taken from the episode called ‘Karate Choppers’ from season one. The clip is right after Mr.Krabs, his boss, tells him that he’s fired. “You’re fired.” is one of Donald Trump’s signature quotes.

THE LYRICS:

Going into the lyrics I will also tie into the things that I had talked about in the music video. The lyrics in the beginning are more of acknowledging that the US is a growing country and that everyone is allowed here, except for `The scarecrows that come from the far east”. Benjamin then sings that to keep them away “Is by building walls, Walls like unicorns In full glory and galore” making a reference to the wall Trump had promised in his campaign that he was going to build. A lot of people in the states were looking forward to this and as it states, it was going to be a big project that would be looked at by many. Benjamin at this time in the music video is calm and collected and seems to be confident in what he is saying. He is also singing his thoughts about the American Dream, and how it is only for the starving, To me, this is saying that the people who don’t have it bad in this country don’t even have to think about the American Dream because they think they are already living it. Those who are struggling to get by everyday dream about the day where they won’t have to get up and wonder what their next meal is or even if they will see next week. Those people have their own dreams about the American Dream. He then thanks the people for trusting him, a reference to the fact that he is going to get inaugurated the next day. I’m going to skip 2-d’s parts for now and skip to the next time Benjamin starts to sing. The next verse that Benjamin sings is ‘Trump’ saying that even though this is how life is, we can’t do much about it, everyone in the world just wants power. We can’t be upset over something that is bound to repeat itself. He even says, “And the whole beasts of nations desire, Power”. In some way or another we want power. Trump definitely understood this and had taken it to a whole new level.

Now going into 2-d’s parts he sings both bridges in the song. In both parts that he sings he is singing directly to Benjamin. He’s asking these questions that we still ask today, “When the morning come, We are still human, How will we know? How will we dream? How will we love? How will we know ?” These questions are from the people and they are asking that if the world is so corrupt, how will we ever be able to love each other if all we can do is fight and argue. The first time 2-d comes to ask these questions, all Benjamin can do is listen. 2-d sits in Benjamin’s silhouette and Benjamin stays still. The second time he sings the same lyrics, Benjamin seems uneasy and worried, scared, and fearful. Benjamin’s hands are shaking and the book he’s holding, he is weary about. The music becomes more, ‘anxiety filled’. Then not too long after 2-d is done, Benjamin goes back to normal. Symbolizing that in his campaign and unknowingly, the years to come, he was going to be questioned and under heavy watch because not only was he a public figure, but a lot of allegations and scandals came up about him. In the same moment, he starts to sing, “Hallelujah Money” and rub his hands together in a way that you would say money, with your thumb, pointer, and middle finger. This was then showing that even after all of that, he still had support and his fame, all the efforts did nothing to him. He wasn't phased by a single thing that came towards him.

MY THOUGHTS:

So what are my thoughts on this music video? Three words.

Absolutely.

Fucking.

Incredible.

This music video was not only amazingly made, but Benjamin did the entire music video in one take. But coming away from that, the message that this brings to the table about how the former president saw the American Dream? How he felt about power and wealth? I think it captured it perfectly. The imagery that was used in the back of the video is stunning. The way they used the analogies in this was so intricate, but it worked and fit so well. The way that they went into it and went, ‘Ya know what. Let’s give it to em’.’ My absolute favorite part of this was the lines used to describe the different sides of the American Dream. The way they also used the tree analogy in the beginning to describe the idea of western prosperity just really sold it for me. The way this song was produced and how it sounds like a choir is singing with Benjamin to me is just the opinions of the people who agree with Trump and his ideals and them being like, ‘yeah, for the money.’ The kind of tone that song has is kind of 'rejoiceful' but having that hint of that ‘uneasiness’ that I had mentioned earlier. It just makes you think that it’s a normal Gorillaz song. The entire song is just powerful to me and after seeing it once again and hearing the song once again, and celebrating 4 years of the album...My appreciation only grows for it.

That’s pretty much it but I would like to close out with a quote from none other than Murdoc Niccals himself:

"In these dark times, we all need someone to look up to. That's why I'm giving you this new Gorillaz song, a lighting bolt of truth in a black night. You're welcome."

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Cosmic love, parts 6-10

Summary: Saved by Jasper, Aurora trusts him to take her to safety during the storm, not realizing she would soon meet his entire family. Things get complicated when Paul comes looking for her, starting an altercation which reveals their secrets before an unsuspecting Aurora.  Warnings: Sexual references, drinking, depression, anxiety, angst, fluff, swearing, blood, an attack

                                               - Masterlist -

Part 6: What if this storm ends

"You can't buy me!" Aurora throws a glass his way, her nostrils flared and her eyes fixed on his, disappointment glistening in them as he ducks just in time.

"Why not? What makes you so special?" He snarls, slamming his fist on the table beside him and she swallows thickly, holding her breath not to flinch at his angry outburst. She knows better than to let him or anyone else see weakness.

"Don't try me, you devil." Her voice is calm and even, unlike her thunderous heart that's struggling to keep up with the adrenaline pumping through the coronary arteries supplying it. "Don't forget I know your secrets and I am not afraid to tell the authorities."

Smirking, she winks smugly before turning her back on the man known as the kind of a man you never leave.

"You will regret this. I promise you, Vanderbilt. Daddy won't always be there to protect you."

Gasping, I feel the cold surrounding me. My body is numb, freezing. Coughing up water, I turn my head to the side and find a helping hand pulling my hair back and another running alongside my spine, attempting to soothe my initial panic.

"Shhh", I hear the whisper, "You're going to be alright", the voice says and it's hard not to recognize it as a man's voice.

The tone truly does soothe me, or perhaps it's the icy touch rubbing my back, but I am calm, more than I should be considering I've almost died and ended up in hell. There's no other explanation for it, or that man wouldn't have been in my final thoughts. I was going to hell and he would be the devil there as well.

The man is grimacing, his hand gently tucking a strand of my hair behind me ear and my vision clears, if only for a moment. He is so blond. His hair brings memories of golden wheat fields I ran through as a child, of those many hued stems that danced in the autumn light, whispering gentle songs into the wind. His jantar eyes are fixed on me, as if he's deciding if he did the right thing.

"Th-thank you", I manage, still breathless from the shock of what seemed like inevitable death.

His arms tighten around me and his lips part and I smile, mesmerized by his beauty. I've never seen a man I could call perfect but he is - angelic perfection.

"You're a hero. Truly. Like an angel, showing up just in the nick of time." Raising a hand, I place it on his cheek with a tremble revealing just how shaken I am - not just by the near-death experience, but him.

"I'm no hero, mam'." His accent was such a playful tune, as if he were the star of his own movie. I could have sat there all day simply to listen and smile.

"I'm not a mam', Cowboy, but you're definitely my hero." Winking I grin as he pulls me up to my feet, a smile of his own appearing and my heart stops. That smile is the prettiest thing I've seen in a while, for it extends to his golden hues and deep into his soul despite the inkling of nervousness that amplifies my interest in him.

Once I'm standing, his arms leave me and the wind blowing makes me shiver. The sky cracks open above us and rain pours down, but I'm already wet and so is he. Staring at each other with faint smirks, I realize I don't even know his name. "I'm Aurora"" I shout, hoping he hears me as thunder reminds me once again how insane this situation is. I'm almost naked in a storm on the beach with a stranger who manages to captivate me with his existence.

"Jasper." He answers and I can't help the smile upon my lips as I nod, acknowledging it.

"I like it! Though I wouldn't have minded calling you Cowboy a while longer." Shrugging, I turn to gather my belongings. Something inside me stirs, telling me not to turn my back on him. Intuition, perhaps, but I do it anyway. Licking the raindrops from my lips, I taste the salty ocean lingering in the crevices drawn by God himself on my rosy lips. I wonder if lips are as unique as fingerprints.

Holding my breath, I turn instantly at the sensation of a stronger wind blowing at my back and I find myself faced with Jasper. Wide eyed, he's staring intently, his lips pressed together as if he's waging an inner war even he's surprised he's winning.

"Are you alright?" I frown, tilting my head to the right as he nods, robotically so. He's tense, not saying a word but I notice him swallowing thickly. "We should get out of this weather before lighting strikes one of us", I joke, trying to relax him. Truth be told, I'd do anything to see him smile again. He looked ethereal, a divine gift so much so I wondered if I did die and this was my heaven.

"I know where we can go." Jasper's face remains impassive. He's not even blinking, eyes focused on mine. Normally I'd find it odd, but I find myself staring back at him, challenging him. I'm not one to back down from anything, not even a staring contest. And he's standing so close, close enough to kiss him if I dare move a half a step toward him and a part of me yearns for his lips, but another part of me is questioning the attraction I feel.

"Lead the way", I offer him a half smile as he steps away and I wrap a towel around me. It does nothing to warm me, but at least I'm not as exposed as I was.

In a blink of an eye, I exhale and lose the ground beneath my feet. When I open my eyes and inhale, I'm standing in front of a small house in the middle of the forest. "How?", I stumble. Furrowing my eyebrows, I grasp my head as if it's about to fall of my shoulders and look around wildly. The trees provide a cover from the rain, but it's not as helpful with a downpour. The house looks like it had seen better days, the vines around it growing against the walls like it does in fairytales.

"You fainted and I carried you here." Jasper explains, his arms raised in mock surrender, "I couldn't leave you there and you just started coming to a minute before we got here."

Blinking fast, I try to comprehend his reasoning and while it would have been smarter if he called an ambulance instead of bringing me to the middle of nowhere, I did find myself unusually calm. If it had been anyone else, I'd probably run and call the police, but Jasper is different. I can't walk away from him. He's alluring. Inhuman in some way I can't quite pinpoint. Maybe it's the golden locks or the unusual eye mutation, but I want to embrace what life has to offer and he's here, right before me in all his perfection. I can't deny destiny has put him on my path and if this is my second chance at life, I'm not going to waste it.

"Hope I wasn't too heavy", I chuckle nervously. My legs are still wobbly as I step toward him and he's quick to catch me before I fall. Taking me into his arms once more, Jasper chuckles and I realize this is what life is supposed to be about - living long enough to find someone who will make your heart flutter with nothing but a chuckle.

"As light as a feather", he draws out with a smile remaining on his lips.

"See?" I let out a soft sigh, my palm finding its way to his cold cheek. He raises an eyebrow, pausing before opening the door and I lean my head on his shoulder with a small smile forming on my face. "You are my hero."

3rd person POV

"Where is she?!" Kicking Aurora's suitcase, Paul dents the wall. Jared sighs, leaning on the doorframe with a raised eyebrow.

"I doubt you'll get any information out of a suitcase." He shrugs, adding for good measure, "Especially one you tortured."

Paul whips around, the vein on his forehead visible and Jared can tell he's not in the mood for his smart-ass. "This isn't a fucking joke, Jared." Running his fingers through his hair, Paul shakes his head. Plopping down on the couch, he closes his eyes and inhales the lingering smell of her perfume he found himself addicted to. "She's not just anyone to me, okay?"

"What do you mean? You didn't imprint on her, right? I mean, you can't imprint twice." Jared sits beside him, his hands interlocked and in his lap as he furrows his eyebrows.

Sitting back, Paul rolls his eyes and glares at Jared. "No, I didn't fucking imprint on her but I finally found someone worth putting my heart on the line for." Sighing, Paul leans his head back and stares up at the ceiling. "I never thought I'd find anyone after Rachel. I didn't want to." Chuckling in disbelief, Paul licks his lips. "Aurora changed my mind in a single night."

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you really fucked up when you left with Rachel then." Jared leans his elbows on his knees, hoping to hide how glad he is he's got his imprint with him. If he lost Kim in any form, he'd never recover. "Aurora doesn't seem like the type you can screw over and still be in her life."

"I know." Paul groans, standing up with resolve. "Which is why I need to explain myself and why I need to find her. Where the fuck would she go in this weather?"

Shrugging, Jared stands too. "She mentioned she likes the beach on the drive here, so maybe she went to clear her head and found shelter when the storm started."

"I should phase and find her before she gets hurt", Paul frowns, remembering the promise he made himself but he never seems to keep it. He wanted to grow old with his friends and family. He wanted to stop phasing, but he can't seem to stop. It's why he's still so young and all his friends are aging already.

"And show up like her knight in shining armor? Smart!" Jared holds up a hand for a high five only to get Paul's eye roll as his response. "C'mon. Don't leave me hanging", Jared glances at his hand before wiggling his eyebrows at Paul.

"Not gonna happen", Paul walks away, not even looking back at Jared who looked like a kicked puppy. "I'll be back in five!" Paul shouts and in moments, a ripping sound comes as the front door opens and Jared knows Paul phased already. He's much better at controlling it now, but his temper is still difficult to deal with and it always leads to him making the same mistake - phasing.

Paul trudged through the forest, following her nearly faded scent. It's extremely difficult to follow a scent after it has rained, washing away all traces, but Paul still senses her. He needs to find her and the trail leads him straight to the beach, just as Jared suspected.

Pushing aside the annoying jealousy the thought of Jared knowing this spiked, Paul steps onto the sand with care. It's risky to walk onto the beach in his wolf form in the middle of the day, despite the rainstorm, but he's desperate. He needs her to believe in him. She's the only one that does. With her by his side, Paul feels like he can become the man he always wanted. Maybe it's selfish, but he needs Aurora in his life.

However, in the first step, Paul smells it and snarls. The sickly sweet smell is familiar, difficult to ignore.

'A vampire on our territory?' Embry joins the wolf connection and Paul is grateful for it. If it weren't for Embry, he's be going in blind for blood, but he can't. He needs permission from the alpha. Ridiculous really, especially when the alpha hasn't phased in years.

'A Cullen. The blonde male.' Paul specifies, remembering the smell so clearly. He was never fond of them, especially of the blondes. One was disrespectful, the other too bloodthirsty. 'His scent is mixed with Aurora's', Paul growls, turning back to run to Sam. He has to report this and while he's blinded with his own emotions, he'd still react the same if it weren't Aurora.

'You think Jasper would hurt Aurora?' Embry questions, running to Sam who sent him after hearing from Jared.

Paul shakes the graphic thought out of his mind as he sees Sam's house on the horizon. 'They're vampires. They're killers. It's what they do.'

Part 7: A gentleman

Teeth chattering, I cling to Jasper despite his skin being freezing as mine. It's counterproductive, yet I can't seem to let him go, but I have to. The poor guy can say I'm light as a feather as much as he wants but I don't want to abuse his kindness. After all, he needs to put me down eventually, so I tap his shoulder lightly and he takes the hint.

"I'm sorry", carefully, Jasper places me on the sofa and I shake my head with a tight lipped smile.

"I'm not."

Licking his lips, Jasper grants me a dazzling smile once more and I physically restrain myself from squealing like a schoolgirl with a crush. This can't be healthy, but he makes me feel so...light? It's as if the darkness was never there to begin with and I can't explain it, I mean, I hardly know him.

"I should set up the fireplace while you can go and get some clothes from the bedroom." Jasper glances at the doorway behind him and I nod, heading straight toward it. I could definitely use some dry clothes that are less revealing and warm.

The room is quite simple, the bed in the middle with a closet beside it. The entire room is bathed in rich honey colors, very homey and comforting. I wonder if this is his favorite color.

Prepared for a dozen cowboy outfits, I open the closet in hopes of finding something that fits me remotely enough to be comfortable only to find a rather large collection of dresses and female clothes. "What the actual fuck?" I go through them, noticing all of them are from brands that most would kill for and my eyes widen as I pause.

The hair on the back of my neck stands as I realize Jasper might have broken into the house. Maybe he knew where the key is because he stole them from someone. What if this was premeditated? He seems familiar enough, so what if he's been following me with a plan of taking me here? I don't even know where here is!

"Are you alright, darlin'?"

Gasping, I whip around and swallow thickly before deciding honesty is the best policy. "You're not a criminal, are you?"

"What?" A breathless chuckle fills the room, relaxing me. "Why would you think that?" Amused, Jasper leans on the door and I draw a shuddered breath.

"Because you have a dozen high fashion dresses here and unless you're married, it feels like you either broke in or prepared this for place for a really weird hostage situation." I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow to his cocky smirk. If he thinks I'm amusing, he should see me with my claws out. Might erase that confident smirk right off his face.

"It's my brother's cabin. His wife is very into fashion." Jasper explains and I furrow my eyebrows, wishing the earth would open and swallow me whole. "But if you want to role play, I'm not gonna put up a fight."

I'm not sure how he manages to make me feel so at ease with him, but I'm definitely feeling silly for questioning his motives. "Might take you up on that, Cowboy." I wink, watching his lopsided grin with a smirk of my own. He's a flirt. A fairly good one. Maybe some other girl would jump his bones, but my specialty is not fire. It's ice.

"I should change my clothes then." Nodding toward the door, I smile, "Unless you want to stay for the show?"

He meets my gaze not with shyness but with a blunt refusal to avert his gaze first. "Don't tempt me, darlin'." His voice is warm and rich; my heart beats faster than it's design specs should allow. Then it's silent for a moment, as if he's waiting for a response but I could hardly focus. As I blush, his look of bafflement becomes a shy smile.

"I'll leave you to it." With a curt nod, Jasper leaves the room and I exhale loudly, unaware I was holding my breath this entire time. I'm really giving my lungs a workout today.

Managing to find a suitable outfit, I join Jasper in the living room. The entire cabin is tiny, just enough for lovers to live in yet I'm baffled by a crib covered in the corner. Maybe his brother had a kid. Leaning on the doorway, I watch Jasper intently. Is he a man who would get along with kids? Would he want to have some?

"I can feel you starin', sweetheart."

Biting my lower lip to prevent a smile, I step forward. "I think I prefer darling."

He sits in a chair in front of the fire, some distance back, his long legs in front of him. Glancing over his shoulder, I notice a silent half-grin on his face. "I'll make sure to remember that."

Scratching my cheek nervously, I avert my gaze to the ground and press my lips together to avoid a smile. If I keep smiling and giggling, he'll surely think I've gone mad. It's a wonder he didn't think so by now.

Walking toward him, I pause once I'm a step away from his chair. He's changed his clothes already and the glorious muscles no longer show under his jumper. His thighs are accentuated by the jeans, making me wonder if it would be too improper to sit on his lap and lean back on his chest. The back of my head would rest on his shoulder, my lips pressing devout kisses along his jaw and his arms would wrap around me, holding me closer as if he's terrified of letting go.

"If you want my seat, I'll happily let you have it." Jasper breaks me out of my fantasy and I realize I've spent this whole time staring at him. If he didn't find me odd before, he must think I am mental now.

"No need. I'll sit here", I shuffle over to the sofa, tucking my hair behind my ears as I look at the fire. "I always loved fireplaces. They're kind of romantic." Closing my eyes, mentally face-palming, I wonder why I'm like this. I'm usually poised, always know what the right thing to say is, yet I can't seem to string a single sentence together without sounding weird since Jasper pulled me out of the ocean.

"I agree." Jasper speaks softly, glancing at me. "The way the light illuminates your lips, the way the flames dance in your eyes - it's breathtakingly beautiful."

Blinking slow, I remind myself to breathe as I find myself getting lost in his golden eyes. "Your eyes are like liquid fire. I fear the burn but I cannot look away." I admit, shamelessly so. Luckily for me, Jasper doesn't seem too disturbed by it.

"What's your favorite color?" I question, hoping to know more about the mystery man.

"My favorite color?" Jasper chuckles in disbelief, glancing at the fire before focusing on me once more. "No one's ever asked me that."

For a moment I frown, wondering how that could be true, yet something tells me he's telling the truth. His eyes are filled with obvious pain and hidden trauma glistened in the tiny haze of light that radiated off the small flickering flame of the fireplace.

"It's black. Like your hair. Like your eyes." His lips twitch, suppressing a smile. Oh, I wish I could tell him how much I enjoy his smile, how he should never hide it from me. "I'd guess yours is red?"

"Blue", I correct him, happy he finally got something wrong. "Like the sky...like freedom. Everchanging shades of blue that make up every part of our lives."

"What about the season?" Jasper notices me falter, asking me another question and I cannot help but smile at his kindness.

"Spring. New beginnings, nature coming back to life." Shrugging, I tilt my head and await his answer.

"I like autumn. It's colorful." Jasper pauses as thunder rumbles, reminding us there's a storm and a whole world outside this cabin.

Jasper has been nothing but sweet and hospitable, despite his flirting, I notice he's distant. There's something off about him I can't put my finger on. He's too perfect, it goes against laws of nature.

"You should probably get some rest." Jasper speaks up as if he can sense I'm growing suspicious and a little uneasy with the silence.

"Yeah", I breathe out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, "When will you rest?"

"Soon."

"I hope you're not a blanket hog", I chuckle, standing up. My smile falls as I realize he's not sure what I'm talking about. "You'll be joining me, right?"

Jasper smiles, more with his eyes than his lips and I lick mine to hide the unseemly thoughts his lips provoke. "I'm good on the sofa."

"I don't mind. The bed is large enough for both of us." Placing my hands on my hips, I purse my lips in hopes of him accepting, but he shakes his head. His hair is dry, golden curls frame his sharp jaw and I sigh. "You saved my life. The least I can do is let you have the bed."

"That's alright, darlin', I'll be fine out here. Wouldn't be a very good host if I took up all the space and hogged the covers, would I?" The reassuring smile lights up his face and I stare in awe. He isn't human, is he? I never saw such beauty before with so little effort. What seems mundane to him is the epitome of heavenly to me.

"Don't be afraid to join me if you change your mind", I sigh, walking behind his chair only to feel his hand wrap around my wrist as I nearly pass him by. His touch is icy, cold enough to make me gasp.

Pulling my hand up, his lips press a tender kiss upon the back of it and I'm stunned, praying my legs don't fail me. Perhaps this is what is meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within; it makes me want to feel how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands follow the curves of my body.

"Sweet dreams", he whispers, releasing my hand and I reluctantly pull back.

Biting my lower lip, I wrack my brain for a suitable word to say, but I can't even think properly. He has distorted my train of thought entirely.

"Goodnight, my hero." I walk toward the bedroom, painfully aware of his eyes on me.

"I thought I was a Cowboy." Jasper teases and I turn halfway around, chuckling.

"You are. A Cowboy gentleman."

Jasper's POV

As soon as Aurora is out of view, Jasper flees the cabin. It doesn't take him long to get back to the house, finding Carlisle at the door.

"You did good, my son." Carlisle pats him on the back, but Jasper is still out of it. He's terrified to draw a proper breath, aware her scent might cling to him. If he feels her, would he go back?

"He needs to hunt. Soon." Edward appears beside them, an understanding look upon in his eyes. "I'll help you. We all will."

"If I hurt her", Jasper begins, but Edward stops him.

"You won't."

"There's no guarantee", Jasper all but growls, his eyes black as the gold dwindles away and he can feel himself losing control.

"The fact that you saved her, more than once, means you are in control. You're doing better than I did with Bella." Edward reminds him and Jasper nods, calming down slightly. He's still tense, but Edward rushing off to Alaska when he met Bella definitely felt more unhinged than anything he did when he met Aurora.

But he doubts himself. "I almost killed her at the beach. When I pulled her out and the ocean stopped masking her scent...I almost killed her. The call of her blood is....intoxicating." Shaking his head, Jasper looks to Carlisle. "I brought her to the woods planning to drain her of her blood. I ran with her, prepared to do it, but when she opened her eyes I just...I couldn't."

"She's your blood singer, Jasper. It's normal to feel that way." Emmett steps out on the porch, a dark look passing his features. "I killed mine on sight. Aurora is lucky it's you, not me."

There are times Jasper wished he couldn't feel emotions, that he could easily block them, especially when Emmett remembers his kills and regret washes over him. Despite the bitter taste of remorse in his mouth, Jasper alleviates the suffering of his brother.

"I don't want to be around her." Jasper states, looking to Edward. "Just because your blood signer was your mate doesn't mean she's mine."

"Alice said", Emmett begins, pushing Jasper further than he should. He's already on edge, it's easy for him to snap.

"I know what Alice said", Jasper remarks, narrowing his eyes at his brother, "She can't be the one. No human can survive me."

"Aurora did. So far, she survived you and you're here looking for ways to keep her alive." Carlisle reasons, a reassuring smile on his lips. He's always believed in his sons more than they believed in themselves. Especially Jasper. He's much stronger than he gives himself credit for.

"Carlisle is right. You should feed and return to her. If Alice is right, do you really want to lose your mate because you're too afraid to try?" Edward pipes in, understanding him better than anyone. Not only can he hear the inner turmoil in Jasper, but he can sense he is drawn to the girl just as Edward was drawn to Bella. It's an unbreakable bond and even if he leaves, he will suffer greatly for it. They both will.

"I can protect her from anything, but", Jasper pauses, glancing at the direction he came from, "How can I keep her safe from myself? Every time I touched her, I was scared of breaking her bones or somehow drawing blood that would make me lose control."

"Practice." Carlisle explains, "A lot of practice." Edward adds with a pensive smile.

Part 8: Golden eyed family

Heaven only knows how I found myself drawn to another so fast after Paul. Something about Jasper reminds me of the old fashioned gentlemen who'd dance with their girl to nothing but a hum of their own making. I'm not sure if it's the near death experience that reminded me of the short life expectancy humans have, but I felt an instant connection with him. It can't be a coincidence, can it?

I wondered if I'd be alright after Paul, but I am. I'm still disappointed and angry at how things turned out between us, but he's barely an afterthought since yesterday. Paul and I had such chemistry, but he's complicated. Too complicated for a woman that ran from the same back home. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

With a sigh, I slip off my shirt, deciding to put on my clothes back. Whoever Jasper's sister in law is, she'd probably like her clothes back eventually. I know I would.

"Darlin', wo-", the voice stops and I turn with a gasp, frightened by his sudden appearance at the door. I'll admit I hoped to wake up by his side, but he really stayed on the couch. If it were anyone else, they'd join me but not Jasper.

"Morning, Cowboy." I wink, attempting to play it off. I'm praying my cheeks haven't reacted with a crimson telltale I'm embarrassed of his eyes on my body. It's ridiculous, isn't it? I've been almost naked in his arms less than twenty four hours ago, yet I'm self-conscious of my body now as I stand there in my bra.

He's quick to turn away and I swallow thickly, wondering if he's repulsed by me. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you're changing."

"It's fine. Not like you haven't seen me yesterday." I laugh it off, swiftly putting my clothes on to reduce the uncomfortable tension in the room. It's suffocating. "I'd tell you it's no biggie if you wanna sneak a peak, but I have a feeling the gentleman in you would adamantly refuse and probably be appalled by the suggestion."

A breathless chuckle escapes him and I smile, unable to resist the stupid grin that seems to appear every time he laughs or indicated he's enjoying my company. "I actually came to invite you to the main house for breakfast if you have the time."

"Main house?" I raise an eyebrow, tapping his shoulder with my left index finger. He turns on his head and we find each other face to face. I meet his gaze and hold my breath, in awe of the emotions swirling in his golden eyes. Suffering, loneliness, longing, desire; his eyes hold deep seated emotions and an inkling of hope he's trying his hardest to hold close.

"Yes. My family would love to meet you."

It's hard to tell, but I'm not really doing well. I've been looking for someone who'd see the same emotions in my eyes my whole life and with Jasper, I feel he does. For the first time ever, I feel understood. I pause, noticing the power behind those breathtaking eyes. The power that's as reckless as a tornado. His eyes flash. For a moment they look golden with warmth... and as dangerous as hell.

So why does it make me feel safer? I should run. I've seen that look in other men and all of them brought me to the point of nearly drowning in the ocean. But Jasper pulled me out. Maybe that's why I want to stay this time around.

"Are you sure they'd like a stranger barging into their house. I don't wanna impose." Tucking a strand of hair behind my left ear, I exhale and cast my gaze to his chest. The intensity of his gaze can be quite exhausting, intimidating.

Placing the tip of his cold index finger just under my chin, Jasper tilts my head up to look into my dark eyes. A soft smile on his lips gives me relief. "Not at all. They'd love to meet you and I'd love to spend more time with you."

With a subtle nod, I return his smile. "I hope you put something warmer on", I raise an eyebrow and glance at his hand as it drops, "Your hands are cold."

"They're always this cold." Jasper turns away, the smile on his face still present as he begins to walk out and I follow, barely catching up with his strides.

It didn't take us long to arrive, the walk mostly filled with Jasper's talk about the trees and flowers around us. I never realized how interesting biology can be when someone handsome speaks of it.

"I should warn you." Jasper pauses, folding his hands behind his back as he leans down, "My family is very..." He trails off, trying to find the right words before continuing, "Intrusive. They might ask a lot of questions you don't need to answer."

"I have nothing to hide", shrugging I continue forth and glance back at Jasper. "Are you coming?"

Smiling, Jasper nods, "Lead the way."

"You're not nervous, are you?" Jasper questions as I pause at the steps, gulping.

"Maybe a little." I lick my lips, staring at the door intently as Jasper walks up the few stairs and opens the door.

"Don't worry, we're all trained not to bite our guests...at least not without asking for permission first." Jasper smirks and I giggle, finding his statement odd. It's the first sexual innuendo he's made and I can honestly say I'd like to hear more. There's something about angelic looking men who have a little of the devil in their words.

"Welcome", a woman in her thirties walks out and my eyes widen. Not only is she drop dead gorgeous, but her eyes are golden like Jasper's too. "I hope you like waffles." She smiles and my heart pounds against my ribcage like an animal trapped with no way out.

"You must be Jasper's sister", I smile politely, walking up to the door on wobbly legs. I can't stop staring at her perfection.

"Mother, but you flatter me. My name is Esme Cullen." She goes in for the hug and I stiffen as her cold arms wrap around me shortly after.

What kind of a genepool is this? Cold, pale, angelic beauty with golden eyes?

"I see my wife has already welcomed you", another blonde man approaches us from the left. His kind smile is inviting, but now I realize where Jasper got his looks from. His eyes are golden as well. They must be wearing contacts, right?

"I'm Carlisle", he outstretches a hand as Esme releases me from her hug and I take it, giving it a slight squeeze. Glancing at Jasper, I notice his pensive gaze as he stands beside me - close enough to make me feel protected, but too far for me to reach for his hand for comfort.

"I believe Jasper explained we already ate, but there's plenty for you to eat." Carlisle makes eye contact with Jasper and I swallow thickly, licking my lips.

"He did not."

"I assume you'd decline if I did." Jasper speaks up and I narrow my eyes at him and the cocky smirk he flashes in return.

"I'm grateful for the invitation." I smile at Mr. and Mrs. Cullen as they both seem like quite literally the angel spawn on Earth.

"Wonderful. You can leave your coat with Jasper and he'll take you to the kitchen when you're ready." Esme and Carlisle give Jasper a fleeting glance before leaving us alone and I finally let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"We'll see how grateful after you've met all my siblings." Jasper speaks lowly with a drawl, bringing back the accent he tries hard to hide. Sometimes it's gone entirely, yet it creeps back in every time he lowers his tone or speaks faster.

"How many are we talking?" I raise an eyebrow as I place my coat on the rack.

"A lot. We were adopted, in case you're questioning Esme and Carlisle's age."

"I was going to question the plastic surgeon they might be sharing." I chuckle, covering my mouth instantly. I didn't want someone to hear and take it the wrong way.

"Well, if you survive my sister Rosalie, you'll survive the rest of 'em." Jasper places a hand at the small of my back and my breath hitches in my throat. It's electrifying, breathtaking and addictive - his touch is like an adrenaline rush.

It would have soothed me if I wasn't already a nervous wreck. Being around Jasper helps, but I'm drowning in anxious thoughts and I cannot help but wonder if him bringing me over is just his gentleman side coming out or if it's a sign he'd like to keep me in his life longer than a single night.

I hope it's the latter.

"Oh, what did you tell the poor girl! She looks terrified!" A teasing voice comes from my side and I turn left, noticing a large man with an equally teasing smirk. He winks and I muster an awkward smile, giving him a small wave.

"I'm Emmett", he steps closer, leaning until Jasper holds out an arm before me like a barrier. "The handsome brother", but he doesn't seem affected by Jasper's actions as I do. His brother is close enough for me to note his ethereal beauty and golden hues and I'm not sure why I'm surprised, but I'm certain they're all wearing contacts now. It's a little enough to answer some of the questions I've had.

Glancing up at Jasper, I notice his face had darkened. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are fixed on Emmett. His body is tense, enough for me to worry too.

"I'm Aurora", introducing myself with a confidence I'm mostly faking now, I turn to the table and notice a lot more of gorgeous people with golden eyes staring at me. Giving them a small, awkward wave, I step closer to them only to feel Jasper's hand move to my hip.

Letting out a shuddered breath, I clear my throat, "Thank you for the gracious invitation."

"Jasper insisted." A blonde from the far end of the table speaks up with a near scowl on her flawless, perfectly sculpted face and I frown, swallowing my spit before I choke on it.

"Oh", I have never felt as uncomfortable as I do now and I've had my share of awfully uncomfortable luncheons.

"Don't listen to Rosalie, she was just as intimidating when I first came to the house", another one joins the table and I glance at her appearance. Her clothing choices are sophisticated, much like the ones I've seen in the closet back at the cabin I slept in last night. She's a timeless beauty with her long, brown hair falling effortlessly down her back with her pale skin contrasting it. She wears a sympathetic smile, perfectly paired with a comforting, supportive look in her jantar eyes. "She's all bark and no bite."

"Besides, we're more than happy to have you here." Esme adds to lessen the tension and I let out a short exhale.

Jasper moves toward the table, his hand abandoning my hip and I feel my heart physically sink with the loss of his cold touch. It's weird, I've never been a fan of anything cold, but I'd like nothing more than to feel his icy fingers dance along my skin.

Coughing, the quiet one next to the brunette widens his eyes as our gazes meet and I'm not sure why, but I could have sworn he knew where my mind went.

"I'm Bella and this is my husband Edward." The brunette waves me over, to the seats available beside her and I oblige. Jasper is quick to take the seat closest to Bella, making sure I know it by pulling out the chair right beside the one he clearly intended for himself.

"Thanks." Allowing him to seat me at the edge of the table, alone, I lick my lips and glance at the picture perfect family. I really should get some beauty tips from them. If New York gossip sites love me now, imagine how they'd be if I looked like that.

Everyone's staring at me, watching every move I make and while I'd usually write it off as paranoia, none of them are even blinking. "Do you want any toppings?" Jasper questions and I flinch, not even realizing how quiet it got. The only audible sound is my heart beating and my inner screams.

The one besides Bella, Edward, flinches and I furrow my eyebrows, pursing my lips. I swear he's the oddest of them all.

"Aurora?" Jasper tilts his head forward, blocking my view of Edward and I blink fast, hoping Jasper doesn't think I like his brother or something.

"Yes!" My voice is high and pitchy, making me pause as I chuckle and so does Emmett. "I'd love some maple syrup." I exclaim as Rosalie chuckles dryly.

"Someone needs to go get it out of the pantry. We have a guest to entertain."

"I'll go." Emmett volunteers and Jasper nods, subtly enough I'd have missed it if I wasn't already focused on him.

Leaning forward, Carlisle is kind enough to carry the conversation, "So, Aurora, where are you from?"

Raising both eyebrows, I swallow the food, "New York. I'm here strictly on business." I add for good measure. I'd rather not have Jasper or anyone else know I was foolish enough to think my heart took me here. It was nothing but an overly romanticized moment and it is over faster than I thought possible.

"And how long do you plan on staying?" The blonde, Rosalie, perks up, seemingly happy with the prospect of my quick departure. She smiles for the first time ever as Emmett walks into the room and I realize he's probably the only one capable of turning the intimidating glare she pierces me with into a gentle gaze.

"Here you have it." Emmett winks, placing the maple syrup before me. The bottle isn't open, the price tag still attached.

"Thank you, Emmett."

Emmett nods in response, moving to Rosalie's side and I smile, envious of the way he naturally gravitates to her. His hands clasp her shoulders, his lips press a quick peck to her temple and they're both smiling, both incredibly in love with one another and I cannot help but feel saddened. It's something I've always wanted - someone to love and someone who loves me back. Simple yet unattainable for people like me.

"I'm not sure when I'm leaving." I remember Rosalie asking, "I'm in the process of finding a place to stay, actually."

"You should stay here." A light, girly voice chimes in and I turn to the source only to find a dainty girl in a stunning black dress. Her hair is short and dark, only accentuating her perfectly chiseled cheekbones. Her eyes are molten gold as well, probably a sibling too. Adoptive sibling. Her smile is as light as her tone, matching the gentle gaze she set upon me.

"I'm Alice and I have a feeling we're going to be great friends."

Raising my eyebrows, I clear my throat and grab a napkin to wipe my mouth. "Nice to meet you Alice." Turning to the rest of them, "All of you, but I really should be going. I'm grateful for the offer, but I cannot accept it."

"Why?" Jasper speaks up and my heart races, as if the sound of Jasper's voice alone is enough to render me powerless. For that reason alone, I must leave.

There were far too many men who could make me feel powerless. I don't want another one on my hands. I want a man that makes me feel powerful. Paul gave me that feeling, if only for twenty four hours or so.

"Because I have plenty of money not to inconvenience anyone and I'd rather be closer to the city." Well, it's not a complete lie.

"Well, if you can stay for a lemonade, we'd appreciate it." Bella stands and I draw a deep breath, licking my bottom lip while contemplating. I mean, what's one drink, right? It's not very polite to dine and dash.

"One drink can't hurt." Edward tilts his head to avoid Jasper's, making brief eye contact with me.

Narrowing my eyes at him ever so slightly, I purse my lips and nod. "Sure. One glass."

Cullen's POV

"She's definitely special." Emmett raises an eyebrow while Aurora and Bella talk in the backyard, turning to Edward. "Did she figure out I had to speed to the store for the syrup?"

"She questioned why the bottle was new and had a price tag, but nothing else." Edward responds. "She does like to scream a lot." He turns to Jasper with an exasperated look on his face. "A lot."

Chuckling, Jasper raises an eyebrow, "I felt your pain."

"She likes you." Edward sighs, "A little too much. She's worried about it and wants to run for the hills."

"Worried how?" Jasper folds his arms, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Your presence affects her. She fears you make her powerless and she hates that feeling. She's infatuated, but fighting it with every fiber of her being. She's also wondering what plastic surgeon we go to."

"We gotta write that one down", Emmett cackles, running off to find his little joke book with all the accumulated comments he's heard humans make on his family's impressive looks.

"Anything else? Maybe something that will help me keep her around." Jasper's annoyance is easily detectable, even without mind reading abilities. His eyes follow Aurora and her frail looking body. She's incredibly beautiful, like a flower in the eye of the hurricane. If he makes one wrong move, just adds a little more pressure than necessary, she'd break under his touch and Jasper doesn't know if it's something he'd be able to live with.

In all his years, he never believed he'd be friendly with a human, let alone crave one in every possible way. Draining her would be the easy way out. Her blood calls to him like a siren's song, drawing him in, but the essence of her being is calling out to whatever is left of his heart and soul.

Alice said he'd find her, his real mate and he didn't understand it then. If anything, Jasper always believed Alice was his mate, but this feeling? This all-consuming need to protect Aurora, to hold her close? The desire to have her whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he kisses her pretty lips? It felt vastly different than it did with Alice.

Jasper owes Alice his gratitude. He owes her his life. He loves her with all his heart, he's just not in love with her.

"Aurora had some...colorful thoughts of you two", Edward clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable as Jasper turns to him in confusion, a ghost of a smile upon his lips as he realizes what Edward is hinting to.

"Oh."

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly." A breathless chuckle escapes Edward, but soon, his face hardens and his eyes look toward Bella.

"We have company." Edward appears beside Bella in seconds.

Jasper's hand slides over Aurora's lower back, safely pulling her behind him so quickly she loses her breath in fright.

"What are you doing?" Aurora gasps, turning to Jasper only to find him standing firm with his back to her face.

"Where is she?!" A growl-like voice echoes through the backyard and Aurora frowns, recognizing it instantly.

"Paul?" Her frown deepens, tilting her head so she sees around Jasper's protective stance.

"Aurora? Thank God." Paul smiles, rushing toward her when the rest of the Cullens step forth and she realizes something weird is happening.

"Not another step." Jasper warns, his hands forming fists at his sides as he strides forward and Aurora's heart sinks with the sight.

"She's with me." Paul growls, "You took her from our land."

"I think it's better if we head inside", Esme tries but I shake my head.

"I saved her life." Jasper rolls his shoulders back, taking a step closer to Paul who seems ready to get physical and Aurora can't help it.

"Can we just calm down and talk like people, please?" She speaks up, loudly enough to make sure they hear her over their macho displays of power.

"Come here." Paul turns his gaze to her, outstretching an arm with his palm open in anticipation.

Jasper slaps his arm away, getting into his face, "She's not going anywhere."

"You gonna stop me? Huh?" Paul's lips form a cold smile, one forged in anger.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding. Just calm down and we can talk it out." Aurora's voice is shaky, unable to hide her true emotions. She's scared of what might happen and she's confused about the reason why.

"I will not let you take her." Jasper stands his ground and that's when it happens. In a fraction of a second, Paul's inability to keep control finally breaks to the surface and while Aurora wasn't close to be in danger, especially not with Jasper speeding toward her to act as a shield, she was close enough to see it happen.

Shifting can be traumatic for humans and while she always believed she's stronger than most humans, her mind saw Paul - the man she truly liked, had turned into an oversized wolf in a blink of an eye. She smiles, almost in disbelief, but before a single word passes her lips, she finds herself slipping straight into Jasper's arms, darkness overtaking her sight.

"Shit." Emmett raises an eyebrow, "Really would have bet on her kicking all our asses instead of fainting."

"Her mind couldn't take it. It's a normal, human reaction." Carlisle explains.

"Bella didn't faint." Jacob and Renesmee walk out of the woods, Jacob winking at Bella.

"I already knew about vampires. What's one more weird, unexplainable thing?" She shrugs it off, looking toward the woods.

"Paul, you should really call the pack here and shift to humans. The poor girl has had enough of a shock. We'll have a barbecue and talk as she suggested." Carlisle steps in, realizing he has to diffuse the situation. The last time the wolves came, they were fighting for their lives. This time, most of them are already in human form, only a few still shift.

"What am I supposed to tell her when she opens her eyes?" Jasper's gaze is fixed on Aurora's pale face, holding her weightless body close to him with as much gentleness he could muster. Even without her being conscious, he can sense the panic inside.

Pushing some of it out, Jasper entices positive emotions within, hoping it lessens the shock.

"I think you'll figure it out. You're already doing good by her." Alice taps his shoulder lightly, reeling in her usual affections. Her vision came true, once again. If she was honest, she hoped she'd have more time to get used to the idea of Jasper loving someone other than her, but he found his mate. She'll find hers eventually as well.

"What if she hates me?" Jasper whispers, fearful of losing her.

Alice smiles knowingly. She can see some of the struggles they'll face in the future. The road ahead is filled with pain and still, she saw a lot of happiness too. "She won't."

Part 9: While she slept

Paul paces in front of the house, his paws already aching. It's a common misconception that they're indestructible, that they don't feel pain or that they don't get tired. He may be mythical, but a part of his is still human and the human inside is dreading every tick of the clock Aurora is unconscious.

"You need to calm down." Jared hisses under his breath, coming closer to his longtime best friend with a wary expression on his usually smiley face. "You're making them and us nervous. Everyone shifted back already."

Noticing Paul stop and look up where he could see Jasper standing at the window of the room they laid her down, Jared shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure he's not gonna kill her, okay? You have to shift back before she wakes up and you still have paws instead of hands."

Huffing, Paul sits and gives Jared a pointed look. If it were that easy, Paul would never shift again. If he could, he'd cast that part of him away and take back the reigns. Unfortunately for Paul, no matter how hard he tries, his temper overpowers him and he wished he could chuck it off to his shapeshifting ability, but it's something he's had since he was little. There was always anger he couldn't control within, ever since his parents divorced when he was barely seven years old.

He has lost a lot because of it. Paul hoped he wouldn't lose Aurora too.

"He crossed to our land!"

Sighing, Jared pinches the bridge of his nose as he hears the argument start in the backyard between Embry and Emmett most likely. Paul glances their way, but refuses to move. He'll never be able to calm down enough to shift back this way.

"If he didn't, she'd be dead!" Rosalie's voice snaps Paul's head in their direction again, finding it odd the blonde would involve herself and not Emmett as Paul assumed as well as Jared. "Jasper saved her life and he protected her when you couldn't!"

"And how many times did he wish he could stick his fangs in her?!" Paul questions in his mind, still uneasy with Jasper's presence around Aurora. He blames himself for it, but he cannot allow his guilt to throw him off. For her.

"Does it matter when she's unharmed?" Edward speaks up in response to Paul's thinking, making Bella frown.

"Why does he even care? He has an imprint."

Jacob runs a hand through his hair, biting his lower lip. "Yeah, uhhh...That didn't quite work out."

"How? Aren't they soulmates or something?" Bella presses, earning herself a low growl from Paul who'd rather be as far away as possible.

"No. Imprints aren't romantic. Nessie and I aren't." Jacob reminds her and she nods, tilting her head to cast a fleeting glance at Paul who draws deep breaths.

When he's triggered, it is so very hard to have self control. He is doing the actions, it is his behavior but feels as if the gas pedal got stuck down and in that acceleration, in that momentum, the steering wheel gets all jammed up too. It's all fight or fight and it's so disappointingly primitive but Paul can't override it unless he has a friend to help him, to guide, to release that emotional pressure so that he can take back the steering and make good choices. Without someone to love and be loved, Paul loses control and he's incapable of finding peace.

For Paul, Aurora felt like peace. She felt like a sliver of control he's been looking to cling to and in that hope, he thought there was finally a solution- he'd be able to stop shifting, grow older with his friends and family, have a normal life. Losing her before he can even say she was his to hold made him so much worse off than he was when Rachel decided she wanted to be with someone else.

Jasper stood at the window with his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are downcast, focused on the wolf who is drowning in guilt and anger and neither seem to relent. It would be so much easier if he could help him and thus help himself, but some emotions need to be felt. Perhaps Paul would benefit from them in time.

There is a storm within Jasper just as strong as in Paul, but his emotions aren't of guilt nor anger, but fear and worry. He's afraid and worried of the consequences of both losing Aurora and having her. The first he'd live with, she'd at least be alive and somewhere in the white world, changing it into a better place than it would be without her. And if she stayed and allowed him to love her as a vampire would love a mate, she'd be in constant danger - not by some unpredictable element, but him and his family. Any moment, one of them could snap and kill her. He wouldn't be able to live with that.

Turning to her, Jasper could have sworn his stone heart cracked. She's so beautiful. He doesn't really know her, yet he feels knows so much about her that he can't tear his eyes away.

There are as many kinds of beauty as there are leaves in the autumnal forest. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her lips. But her eyes, her dark eyes showed her soul. They were a dark heaven, an ocean of hopeless grief. As Jasper first looked into her eyes he knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them he read clearly that she would fight to the very last breath for her life. She would not let the world break her. Sure she would cry in the confines of her room, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion. Passion that made her beautiful.

She's confident on the outside, but Jasper saw her insecurities too. He could see she's defiant, witty, incredibly sensual and while he never thought it would happen, she proved to him that time can stand still - even for a vampire. He knows she's the girl Alice told him would be the one. She will change the way he looks at life and love.

"Paul has agreed to keep his cool." Jacob leans on the doorframe, eyeing Jasper with a raised eyebrow. "As long as she's not missing a single hair from her head."

"She'll never come to harm by my hand, Jacob." Jasper glances at the young wolf with a solemn look in his eyes. "I'd rather be ripped apart by Paul himself than hurt her."

"You can't swear by it. If she were to bleed, you'd lose control." Paul's voice is low, dark. It's enough for Aurora's mind to grasp to reality.

"Not when it's her." Jasper stands firm, truly believing it. If there is something he'd never allow, it's to be the reason behind her demise. "She means everything."

"You don't even know her." Paul snarls, "I", planting the palm of his right hand on his chest, Paul continues, "Do! I know her. I've felt her, held her, kissed every inch of her skin!" Smirking as he notices Jasper's eyes harden, Paul steps closer, "I had her putty in the palm of my hands and she loved it. So you can hop off whatever fantasy you have about being with Aurora, because she is mine."

Holding his tongue, Jasper narrows his eyes at Paul and the possessive words he spilled so carelessly. He speaks of Aurora as if she's his property, as if he could bend her to his will - break her like a horse, as they used to say in his hometown. It irks him in the worst possible way, the inner desires to act on his instinct fighting its way to the surface.

"Do tell her that. And let me watch when you do." Jasper winks, grinning. Then he lowers his voice and leans closer, "She's not a thing to own. Regardless of what you believe, she is free to choose what's best for her and I don't think either of us fit the box."

"That's why I'll show her I am the choice she should make." Paul shrugs, turning to her. "She may be important to you, but she's my saving grace."

"She's my mate. I believe that trumps whatever misogynistic claim you think you have on her." Jasper cracks, raising voice and in that instant, Aurora gasps.

Frightened and aware they've heard her, she opens her eyes and sits back against the headboard.

"It's alright", Jacob steps toward her with arms up and open to prove he's not a threat. Her heart hammering inside her chest drew everyone's attention, aware she's awake.

"The show is starting." Rosalie chuckles, sitting back in her chair.

"That's not okay." Seth speaks up, sending Rosalie a judgmental look before looking to Carlisle.

"Seth is right. Either support Jasper or don't say anything at all."

Happy with Carlisle's words, Seth's cheeky grin appears and Rosalie can't help but glower at him.

"I'm actually rooting for them." Emmett pipes in.

Bella chuckles, "You always had a weak spot for humans."

"Just the cool ones." Emmett winks. High-fiving Bella, they both decide to go upstairs, hoping to diffuse the situation.

It's not easy to deal with the supernatural, Bella knows that. Even she struggled with it to a degree, but she knew Aurora might have a harder time accepting the world she entered. Most humans cannot fathom the existence of vampires and shapeshifters, but Bella knew Aurora would eventually acclimatize. Adjusting may be hard, but there is a reason she was seen in Alice's visions and there is a reason she drew the attention of both species. After everything she survived, Bella trusts Alice and her visions.

"We won't harm you", Jacob reaches for Aurora's hand but she recoils.

Pure terror surged through her veins, icy daggers straight to the heart. The fear she'd felt in the ocean was nothing compared to how she feels now. Now she feels as if she's being held underwater, gasping for air but not being able to do a damn thing about it. She can't help but think that maybe it would be better if she drowned. At least then the nightmare would be over. But this, whatever it is, it's real and she's surrounded by people that aren't really people.

"It's going to be alright", Jasper's warm tone brings her attention to him, his lips. She never quite figured out if the beauty of his lips was more their softness or the association with the words he spoke. Either way, his lips and voice eased her fears.

"Don't fucking control her!" Paul growls, glaring at Jasper. Jacob jumps between the two, leaving open a path.

Noticing it, Aurora flings herself toward the door, narrowly missing Emmett and Bella who frown, sharing a confused look.

"Umm, is she supposed to be running away?" Bella questions, seeing all three of them stop and turn to her with wide eyes while Emmett chuckles,

"Shit!"

Part 10: Run

I liked running as a teenager. Running was a vent, a way to overcome all emotions I had been forced to push under the surface. When I'd run, when my soles felt the earth and gained their own rhythm, my thoughts became lyrics - my own original track had the chance to play for its audience of one. It became an escape from reality, from the cruelty of life and all I was supposedly blessed with. But this isn't running.

Tears blind me and I turn, running as quickly as my short legs can carry me, bolting through the unmarked forest trail, quickening my pace to an all out sprint. The crunching noise of my bare feet against the leaves is drowned out by an echo that matched my heart throbbing inside my chest with the thick fear I feel as I run. I feel the screaming of my lungs and the will of my muscles to go far beyond what exercise could ever demand. This is the body and brain on full survival mode and it is nothing but pain.

With each footfall a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee, ankle to knee. My heart beats frantically, it's all or nothing. Fail and my whole body will pay the price. They know the area better than I, they're fast and I don't even know what else beyond their ability to somehow become giant wolves. So, I run. I run faster and faster. Twigs scraped past my face, entangling themselves into my hair. My feet slip and I almost tumble over, more time I cannot afford.

All at once my foot ceases to travel forwards and the scenery starts to blur like a poorly shot action photograph. The colors swirl and blend as my head becomes tilted toward the forest floor. I can't open my voice to scream, fear, paralyzing my body.

"Ugh", I grumble, wheezing as my burning lungs gasp for air. My legs feel numb and unsteady, painfully sore. My throat feels dry, so uncomfortably dry. Turning on my back, I feel a burning sensation on my leg. Swiping my palm across my thigh, I raise it up to my face only to see crimson - I'm bleeding.

Heaving, I close my eyes for a moment. I'm not sure what I'm running from, but I'm sure I miss being bored in my big apartments, drinking champagne all day while spending my father's money online.

"Hello there."

A sudden, strange voice jolts me back to reality and I gasp, sitting up instantly. I kick my legs out and push myself away from the man as he stares at me with a Cheshire grin. It's unsettling how his eyes seem to rack over my body, pausing at my injured thigh with interest. He licks his lips, slowly, before stepping closer to me.

"Stay back!" I shout, pushing myself further from him until I hit an obstacle. Quickly glancing at it, I realize I'm backed against a tree trunk, my legs still feeling as if they would fall off from the unexpected sprinting. I'm not even sure if I could stand if I have to run again.

"Why would I do that, little sheep?" The man chuckles, amused with me. He cocks his head to the side, approaching me.

"It's enough." I hold out a hand, palm open toward him. It's stupid really, as if my hand would stop him. He's tall, burly and from the unsettling vibes he's giving, I'm convinced he has no good intentions.

"You're a rare sight, do you know that? A legend, really." The man purses his lips, crouching to eye level and my eyes widen as I finally see his red eyes. "I've heard of it, but to see it? To smell it?" He smirks, leaning in with a malicious glint in the blood pools his eyes are made of.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Defensive, I pull my legs up to my chest as he reaches out to touch my bleeding wound.

"Your blood, of course."

In a blink of an eye, his hand is wrapped around my neck and I'm gasping for air. A choked cry for help forced itself up my throat, and I feel a drop run down my cheek. Grabbing onto his hand, I try to sink my nails into his skin, to hurt him enough for the pressure to let up and allow me to take a proper breath, but it doesn't work. My heart is hammering, helplessly screaming for oxygen as adrenaline forces it to go faster, quicker, to supply my brain with blood it needs to survive.

As my vision blurs, I feel relief. The hand is gone, I'm wheezing in a failed attempt to catch my breath. Gripping my throat, I feel as I fall to my side, coughing uncontrollably as a hand sets on my back. It's warm, running up and down my spine as I blindly reach for something to hold on.

I hear muffled voices, drowned out by the pulsating in my ears from the panic that's been tormenting my body. And as I heave, a cold hand rests upon mine. It's familiar, enough to remind me of the initial reason why I was running, but I'm not scared. If anything, I'm feeling safer.

"She'll be fine son. Leave." I hear Carlisle's voice and flinch, trying to crawl away but the warm hand on my back becomes a pair of arms meant to cage me.

I'm picked off the ground and held close to someone's chest. "It's alright, I'll help you."

Blinking my eyes open, I gulp as I realize my vision is blurred. I notice a faint glow of golden hair and shapes of what must be really large dogs, but my conscience is slipping. My eyelids are heavy, swallowing is becoming increasingly difficult.

"Carlisle, she might be crashing!" A panicked voice startles me and still, I can't fight. Not anymore.

"Get her back to the house."

Momentarily, my vision clears, enough to know I'm among Cullens and Paul's friends again. I'm back where I was running from.

"She's struggling to breathe."

I need time to make some sense of all I've seen, to try and justify it as a latent hallucination from nearly drowning. It must be it, right? Supernatural doesn't exist. It can't be real.

"Her throat is swelling", Carlisle's voice is soothing. I sigh, closing my eyes in resignation.

"Go Jacob!" The familiar southern accent makes my heart jump and I try to open my eyes to see him again, but to no avail. Everything is fuzzy, I see nothing at all. My consciousness is floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. My heartbeats pound loudly, echoing in my ears, alongside fading pleas for help. Feeling in my body drains away until finally all is black.

3rd person POV

Arms folded on his chest, Jasper remained leaned against the tree where Aurora was found. He cannot make himself go to her, anywhere close to her while she's bleeding and in pain. Jasper needed her to be safe and she is safe with his family, but he doesn't feel she's safe with him around.

He's staring at the blood spilled from her veins beneath his feet, the sweet smell addictive and inviting. A part of him is tearing to the surface in hope of tasting, just a single drop, but another part of him is just as feral but for a good cause. That part of him wants to feel the burn of his desire to feed until he remembers that losing her would be a far worse pain.

"You should be there with her." Edward speaks, arriving to comfort Jasper who could comfort anyone but himself. What a curse his gift is. He had fallen farther than Edward ever saw him fall before. There is no light in his black eyes, his grief is evident and his thoughts are heavy enough to make anyone depressed.

"She's going to want you there." Edward tries, but Jasper scoffs.

"I'm the reason she's in this mess." Fixing his rage on Edward, Jasper turns to him. "I am why she ran! I felt her fear and I felt the terror in her when we found her! I should have just left her on the beach and ran!"

"Didn't she choose to come with you?" Edward challenges, "Isn't a choice all we can truly offer them?" Not too long ago, Edward only had a choice to offer to his own mate and he knows the difficulties of a mate bond with a human and still, it was worth it in the end. Edward had no doubt about it.

"She wouldn't choose it if she knew what she chose." Jasper groans, punching a hole in the tree he was leaning on.

"We need to find a way to cover her scent. Even I'm having a hard time with it." Edward looks to the blood infusing the ground with weary eyes and a somber mood. Perhaps it's coming from Jasper, unintentionally sharing his own emotions.

Growling under his breath, Jasper steps closer to Edward, making him scoff.

"I'm not planning on repaying the favor for Bella." Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks at his brother relaxing a little with the statement. It was meant to be a joke, but Jasper clearly doesn't feel up for any jokes.

"Where is Paul?" Jasper leans down, thinking how to rid of the blood too.

"Beside her. Holding her hand. Carlisle injected her with corticosteroids to reduce the inflammation, something for the pain and dressed the wound."

Nodding, Jasper digs his hand in the ground, pulling out the dirt stained with her blood. "Maybe he would be good for her...If he doesn't phase and kill her first." Shaking his head, he pauses. He never felt weaker, more human than he did when he saw her paling, choking under the nomad's hand. He was enjoying torturing her to her last breath. Jasper regrets killing him so quickly, he should have suffered. "He's too dangerous for her. Out of all of them, she had to go and take the most temperamental one?"

"You can't force anything on her. I tried with Jacob and it backfired. Take it one day at a time, one problem at a time. Like this blood." Edward grabs some of the dirt with his hands too, "Let's toss it in the ocean and hide her scent. If other vampires smell it, they'll come looking for her and we can't let that happen."

"I'll help", Emmett joins, already digging out soil, "She's family as far as I'm concerned."

"It's been a day", Rosalie appears, digging her hands into the dirt as well - reluctantly. "Edward had the decency of spending a month with Bella before imposing her on us."

"A mate is a mate", Bella stops beside Jasper, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "And yours will be just fine. She's a fighter."

"She'll be fine." Alice comes too, giving Jasper reassurance he needed.

Nodding, he looks around at his family holding hands full of dirt soaked in blood and none of them are even flinching. He's not flinching either. They did this once with Bella, they're more prepared now and if they are so willing to protect Aurora, to keep her around, Jasper is too. He knows he can't just push her away and hope everything turns out fine. It doesn't work that way - it didn't work that way for Bella and Edward. He can't fight it, he doesn't want to.

But Paul has decided the same, unbeknownst to Jasper. He could care less about mate bonds and what that might entail. Aurora and he share a connection he never shared with anyone but his imprint and that wasn't his choice. Aurora is more than a one night stand or a rich benefactor willing to help the school in La Push. She's worth the fight.

"You managed to shift for her." Jacob notes, not hiding his surprise.

"It's not a big deal." Paul grumbles, keeping his hand in hers. He hoped she could feel his warmth. Maybe it would comfort her.

"It's a huge deal." Jacob shrugs, "But you can pretend otherwise. You've never been able to shift in these situations, yet you're here with her."

Rolling his eyes, Paul turns sideways to throw Jacob a glare. "It's been ten years, Jacob. I'm not the angry teenager I used to be."

"No, but you are the only one who still can't control his phasing. You and I both know that you managed to control it to be in this room, to be there when she wakes up. You care about her." Jacob walks closer, holding out a beer for Paul. "Rachel couldn't help you calm down enough and she was your imprint. So, this brings up questions."

"Rachel couldn't help me because she never gave a fuck about me." Paul snaps, spitting as his disgust fuels his words. "I was willing to do anything for her and she still cheated and left me for another. Aurora was willing to do everything for me and I fucked up because my imprint decided to be jealous for the night and pull me away."

"I'm not saying what she did wasn't fucked up, but you chose to leave without explanations. Aurora was deeply hurt because you chose to hurt her." Jacob retorts as he takes a seat beside Paul. They never saw eye to eye, but Jacob will always see Paul as his brother. He could never leave him when he's suffering.

"I know, but how does one tell a girl of wolves and vampires and an imprint I will always have to prioritize?"

"Well, cat's out of the bag now, so you might as well explain everything to her. If you don't, Jasper will fill all those pesky holes in the story and you might end up on the short end of the stick." Jacob turns to the door, making sure no one's there. "You have to be honest and ask for forgiveness."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Licking his lips, Jacob lifts his eyebrows, "Jasper will win."

"He'll kill her." Paul frowns, trying to keep himself calm because the thought of his Aurora ever being touched by that vampire made his blood boil. She's his.

"Worse. He'll turn her into one of them."

Pressing his lips in a thin line, Paul exhales loudly through his nose. "I won't let him."

[its-sir-actually]

Been following Lando for quite some time so here’s my two cents on the whole situation. Yall are so quick to attack complete strangers on the internet. Check yourself and your friends first. As a 21 year old with a big group of friends, these kinds of conversations are something that happens all the time, and they come from both boys and girls. I’m not saying that it’s the most correct thing to do but the guy is not fucking Armie Hammer. You are spreading more hate and negative energy by making numerous posts about a bunch of immature guys talking about something that interests many 21 year olds- and thats sex and relationships. And don’t even try to tell me that you don’t talk to your friends about your experiences with those things. Lando is going to mature and come out of this phase eventually, it comes naturally for most people. Imagine someone following your every single step and being aware of everything that you do and say and then calling you out because of it. Humans are not painted black and white, most of us correct our behaviour on our own as time passes and sorry to break it to you but this is really not a big deal + the whole sex position thing is a lie and you have been attacking him unfairly because the “cowboy” nickname references the girl Lando is talking about because she has a cowboy emoji (🤠) in her instagram bio. So if you’re going to be so sensitive all the time, just write it in your diary and go on with your day. If you think the world should be a little kinder, start from yourself. I doubt that Lando is going to necessarily learn anything from this situation, mainly because he is already a good person and this is just ridiculously dragged on social media so the only thing he could possibly get from this situation is anxiety and a therapist visit- because you people are ruthless. Also, he will continue to talk to his friends about girls but next time he’ll just do it in private. So I guess your whole point is to idealise him so much that he can’t even be relaxed on his own streams and he will continue to portray this complete “good guy” image just to keep you satisfied.

"Yall are so quick to attack complete strangers on the internet" they say and then go on to attack me, a complete stranger, on the internet, maybe take your own advice?

Another bit of advice? Don't send me anon hate and then post the same thing word for word in the tag @vrckava

To address some of the things you've mentioned:

I have not "attacked" Lando, I wrote a post, on a social media site that Lando isn't even on, explaining my disgust at his and his friends behaviour. That post was entirely my opinions, nobody had to agree with me, numerous people did because they felt the same way. I am entitled to express my opinions on public media.

You talk a lot about how this topic of conversation is common and normal to have between friends and I agree, it is normal to have these conversations with your friends in private. Lando and Max F had these discussions on stream, I doubt that the girl (girls?) consented to have her sex life discussed in front of thousands of people.

Also you seem to skip past the thing that most people are disgusted by: the way they talk about the girl. This is open to interpretation and different people will have different opinions but many people, myself included, felt like the vocabulary they used was derogatory and objectifying.

Again the whole "cowboy" nickname thing is up to interpretation, some think it's based on a Instagram bio, some think it's based on a sex position, who's to say who's right. But the thing I would like to point out here is that a lot of people have been defending Lando's sex talks on stream because he nicknames the girls to protect their privacy, but if this "cowboy" girl is the Instagram bio girl then Lando didn't do a very good job of protecting her privacy, did he? Do you think she's ok with having people find her and know about her sex life, including how many "rounds" she's had with Lando and that Lando thinks she's boring but apparently still good enough for sex? Do you think she was ok with that broadcasting live to thousands of people and then having thousands more rewatch it?

Don't try that weird shaming thing by trying to gaslight me into thinking I could cause Lando anxiety and therapy visits. I didn't attack him and more important than that, I asked people not to cancel and be hateful towards him. If people did do that, that's on them, not me. It's fucked up to use someone else's mental health as a gaslighting tool.

"Also, he will continue to talk to his friends about girls but next time he'll just do it in private" that's the hope 🤞🏽 not only to avoid potential uncomfortable language but also to protect the girl. There's no chance of someone figuring out Lando's stream nicknames for girls if he's not nicknaming them on stream.

Lastly, I do not want Lando to be perfect and ideal. No human is perfect, perfection is overrated. I would like him to 1. Not talk about women in derogatory ways and 2. Be a bit more mindful on stream of his large following and his young impressionable fans.

[emma-ofnormandy]

Walk Away: Chapter 11 (SP x Reader)

Summary: Staying had never been in your families nature and leaving Riverdale had been unavoidable. Years later unfinished family business brings you back to a town and to people you had never planned on seeing again. Despite your best efforts, you are sucked back into the world of the Southside where trouble is waiting for you and old flames and feelings are determined to pick up where you had left them.

Pairing: SP x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K+

Warnings: Angsty, Swearing, Alcohol, Mention for Drugs,

A/N: Picking this bad boy back up. It’ll probably take me a bit to get into the flow of this story again. Updates will be on Fridays, but Im not going to commit to a time frame because well... life. Enjoy folks!

Feet kicked up on a fancy looking kitchen bar stool and a cookie in hand, you watched yet another couple say their goodbyes to Toni before heading out the door. There had been a steady flow of people in and out of the little house for the past few hours; couples looking for their first starter homes, small families hoping to update to something better, a couple singles looking for an investment and none of them seemed all that phased by the home’s location. It seemed weird to you, knowing what you did about the under workings of the town, that people weren’t fazed in the slightest that they could be moving in next to crack dens and drug dealers. They bought into the revitalization speech Toni gave and hell, it worked in the big cities so you suspected it could work here too. For a while anyways.

Despite your previous plans having been waylaid, you’d been greatly enjoying watching Toni work. There was a stark change from the friend you’d left behind. Leather jacket long gone and motorcycle boots traded up for a stunning pair of Jimmy Choos, it was amazing to see someone who had been so rooted in where she came from to overcome the obstacles this ridiculous town put in front of her and to rise above. In your absence, she had become a person who was more than just where she lived and who she affiliated with. The same could be said for Sweet Pea and Fangs too. All of them had become more than just Serpents, more than just southsiders; they’d beat the odds that had been set against them and became members of a community, added to the community and it was a respectable feat.

“Those are supposed to be for the potential buyers.”

Pulled from your musings, attention drawn back to the pink haired realtor, you couldn’t help but smile at the look Toni gave you. It was one you’d seen disapproving mothers give their children when they misbehaved in the grocery store.

Defiantly, you took another bite from the baked good. “You promised me food and since this is all that there seems to be in this house-”

“As soon as the open house is done,” she groaned as she slapped your feet from the stool before taking the spot for herself. “I feel like I’m talking to a toddler.”

The smile on your face grew broader. “I have been told I can act like one at times.”

It was Toni’s turn to smile, the laugh that bubbled from her carrying through the empty house. “I want to meet the person that got away with telling you that.”

“It was one of my regulars when I was a bartender,” your features softened as you thought back. “He was a damn good tipper, so I let it slide.”

His name had been Carl, probably easily into his eighties, and no teeth sans the dentures he liked to leave on the bar now and again, but he’d been good fun. One of those old cowboy types, the ones with tales so long you couldn’t figure out if they were true or not, but on more than one occasion it had been thanks to his tips that you’d managed to pay rent. He had been a good man, one of the few you kept the lights on for.

“Can’t lose your best customer, I suppose,” she agreed, helping herself to one of her own cookies.

“In that little cow town? I was lucky for the few I had.” Your smile faltered.

Carl had died peacefully in his sleep, at home, and you’d packed up and left town right after that. Working at the bar after he had died had left you with an uneasy feeling; it hadn’t seemed right to keep slinging beers when he wasn’t there to have one so you did what you did best, walked away.

No matter how subtle it was, Toni didn’t miss the way your brows furrowed and your eyes got a distant look in them. She moved to reach for your hand, but faltered, afraid that you’d close up like a clam and the nice conversation you were having would be shut down.

Doing her best to keep the conversation light, she moved to a slightly safer topic. “Where was the worst place you’ve lived so far?”

“Minot, North Dakota. Hands down,” you admitted.

There had been no hesitation in your answer, no pondering. Your stay in North Dakota had been hell start to finish and no amount of money could get you back there.

Toni did a mental search of the states, a grimace crossing her features when she realized the location. “What were you doing there?”

“Driving around railroad employees to trains during shift changes. Miserable place.”

Coming out of the southside there were few places and people that scared you and you’d always prided yourself on being able to take care of yourself, but Minot had been an experience. Most railroad guys were harmless, the majority of them not interested in causing  any problems, but when you mixed farm country and railroad with an oil boom and the roughnecks that came with it, disaster ensued. The communities and the people that governed the areas were not equipped to handle the mass influx of people and the less savory aspects they brought with them. It was the closest thing you’d ever been in that resembled a war zone and you didn’t stick around long enough to see if it ever got better.

“How many places have you lived?” Toni asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

You took a mental tally. “Eight. I think?”

There were other states you’d spent some time in, but you hadn’t stayed long enough to justify it as living.

“And now you call New Orleans home.” Leaning against the back of the stool, Toni considered her next move. “Think you’ll stay there long term?”

Tension settled at the base of the neck and your stomach flopped over as Toni’s question hovered between the two of you. Did you like New Orleans? Yeah. Were you going to stay and try and have a go at real life? You didn’t know. Hell, you couldn’t say you were going to make it out of Riverdale alive at the moment, let alone what your plans for the next year were.

You wouldn’t think beyond settling the debts your mother left, you couldn’t. The second you started making plans was when shit hit the fan and you were standing in enough shit as it was, there was no point in adding more to the pile.

Toying with a napkin you’d stacked cookies on earlier, you watched the girl beside you out of the corner of your eye. “So, what about you? Besides the real estate thing, anyways.”

The muscles in Toni’s jaw jumped in frustration at your obvious evasion of her question, but she didn’t press further. She knew times had changed, that the close familiarity that you’d once shared was no longer there, but it stung that you didn’t want to share more about what you had been up to or what you were planning for the future. There was no way to go back and rectify the past, mistakes were made, but Toni was hoping that things would change for the future.

Whether you stayed in Riverdale or not was neither here nor there, but now that you had come back, Toni to, at least, stay in touch, try and maintain a friendship that she had thought to be gone forever, but you were not making it easy on her. Or yourself.

“The real estate thing,” Toni said nonchalantly, doing her best to keep her frustrations at bay.

You raised a single brow in her direction, unconvinced. “Just eat, sleep and breathe the housing market, then?”

Two could play the secret game, Toni thought. “Pretty much.”

“I have a hard time believing that your life solely revolves around selling houses and babysitting Fangs and Sweet Pea.”

The front door hinges squeaked and both of you turned in your chair, expecting some last minute open house guests, and you were relieved to see Sweet Pea and Fangs saunter through the door. Toni seemed to be too if her sigh of relief was any indication.

“She doesn’t babysit us,” Sweet Pea interrupted.

“And she’s just not telling you about the lady friend she has in the city,” Fangs added as he shut the door behind them.

If looks could kill, the two boys would have been dead the moment Toni set eyes on them and you couldn’t help but laugh. The dynamic of the past was still going strong amongst the trio, despite all they had accomplished, not everything had changed.

“She’s a colleague I met at a seminar,” Toni ground out in frustration. “We’ve only gone out a few times, it’s nothing serious.”

Fangs scoffed. “Nothing serious? Please Topaz. You two are planning a Christmas away.”

Helping himself to the plate of cookies, Fangs skirted around to the other side of the island and pocketed a few of the fresh treats, his antics drawing a giggle which you did your best to stifle when you caught Toni’s glare.  

“Who invited you to this open house, anyways?” She snapped.

Mouth full, Fangs gave her his best chipmunk smile. “I wanted to see if anyone had bit yet.”

“And figured we’d treat you two to Pops. For old times’ sake,” Sweet Pea added from somewhere behind you.

The closeness of his voice had the hair on the back of your neck standing on edge. Turning slightly on your stool, you all but bumped into his towering frame; hands resting on the back of your seat, Sweet Pea had positioned himself to prevent a quick exit if you so felt the need.

Whether he realized it or not was another matter, but your bet was on the former.

“The two of us?” Irritated with his proximity, you met his gaze with a leveled look. “How’d you know I’d be here.”

Though you knew he could feel your irritation, Sweet Pea simply grinned as he held your gaze. “Toni said something about picking you up.”

Determined not to let him see your feathers ruffled, you turned back to look at Fangs and Toni. “I could eat.”

“You ate half a plate of cookies!” Toni exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I had like two,” you countered.

Or four, but who was counting. You hadn’t had anything of substance to eat all day and the tar like coffee you’d had at Lonnie’s was fading fast. A Pops burger and shake was just the answer.

Chuckling, Fangs flipped the switch in the kitchen and maneuvered Toni towards the front door, you and Sweet Pea falling in line behind him. “Come on, the dinner rush should be mostly done.”

Nothing much had changed in the diner since the last time you saw it, same old vinal seats, same neon lights and same dirty linoleum floor; it brought a smile to your face the moment you walked through the door. You’d driven by the diner a few times since you’d been in town, always meaning to stop in and grab food to go, but you had yet to make it in.

Pop’s had always been the go to spot for the four of you, whether it was right after school or in search of food after a few too many beers and sitting here again with everyone shot a wave of nostalgia through your system. There were a lot of memories that went along with the diner, and despite the initial unease you’d felt about falling back into old ways, you decided to let yourself have this one night. One night reminiscing with people you grew up with, one night free of searching and planning your next step; a night just to be, especially since it was a luxury you weren’t sure you would get again.

Stuffed on the inside of a booth beside Sweet Pea, with Fangs and Toni in a similar arrangement across the table, you shoved away the half eaten burger and unfinished fries. You had forgotten how filling the food at Pop’s was, and apparently those four cookies from earlier took up more space in your stomach than you realized.

“You gonna eat those?”

Pushing the meal farther across the table, you gave a nod. “Have at it, Fogarty.”

A little astonished, you watched Fangs devour what was left of your meal. It’d been accepted early on that Jughead was the bottomless pit amongst the Serpents, but you were pretty sure Fangs was a close second and may even surpass the master.

“What, did you fill up on cookies and now have no room for dinner?” Toni teased, shoving her own leftover fries towards the two guys.

“No,” was your quick retort. “I just forgot how much food Pops gave you. And I’m making sure I have room to finish my milkshake.”

The man beside you gave a snort. “They don’t have milkshakes in New Orleans?”

“Not ones like these.” Your brows furrowed, “Or hell, just a good burger dive.”

For all the good eating you’d had over the last couple of years, you had yet to find a place that hit home like Pop’s did. Something about the diner was special, something that couldn’t be replicated and even when you’d found a place similar, it never felt as good as the original.

Appalled, Fangs scoffed and shoved a few more fries in his mouth. “No good burger dive? Cross New Orleans off my places to visit list.”

The corner of your mouth lifted, amused. Fangs would love New Orleans with its exciting nightlife and eclectic people, he would just have to adjust his pallet a bit. “Visit for the beignets and the gumbo and save the burger cravings for here. Though, a beignet never got me through a hangover like a Pops burger.”

An easy smile spread across Sweet Pea’s features as he stretched his long legs underneath the table, arming coming to rest on the back of the booth behind you; Pop’s was the fix all for anything that ailed you in Riverdale. “There is no better hangover cure.”

Fangs raised his milkshake in agreement, taking a celebratory sip before adding, “And the only answer for the two in the morning drunken hunger pangs.”

“How are we not all dead from cardiac arrest.” Toni chuckled, disgusted as she thought back of what everyone had eaten back then.

Idly, you reached for the necklace that rested just under your shirt, fingers grazing over the diamond studded serpent as a wave of memories played through your mind. Anyone on the outside looking at what the four of you had done in your youth would be appalled at what a bunch of teenagers had been allowed to get away with, but there wasn’t much you’d change out those teen years. There had been some wild times to be had and you couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your lips.  

“I distinctly remember puking up Pops after a bad night and then ordering the same shit when I finally woke up the next day.”

Sweet Pea watched your movements out of the corner of his eye. A shimmering of silver and diamonds caught his attention and he could feel his stomach lurch. After all this time, after how things had ended and the life you were living, he would have thought that the necklace would have found a pawn shop counter a long time ago and yet, you’d managed to hold onto it.

Racking his brain, Sweet Pea couldn’t recall seeing the necklace on you the night you’d come to the Wyrm, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t been wearing it; he had been so preoccupied with you being back in the bar and then chasing you down after hightailing it out so suddenly that he wouldn’t have noticed much of what you were wearing.

He had chalked the feelings that stirred the other night as leftover attraction, the remnants that still lingered because he had never gotten closure, but now, seeing the necklace, Sweet Pea was beginning to think that he had been wrong. Whatever this was between the two of you, whatever these feelings were that were simmering, it was more than history; they couldn’t be ignored this time, wouldn’t be ignored this time, and he’d be damned if he let you run off again without at least acknowledging what the two of you had.

Steeling himself against the wave of emotion the realization brought on, Sweet Pea did his best to keep his voice level, his tone light. “That’s because you couldn’t hold your alcohol,” he teased.

Eyes wide, you gave the man beside you a playful slap, the necklace falling back to its resting place. “Excuse you, yes I could.”

“At least she wasn’t the emotional drunk,” Fangs quipped, his coffee colored gaze darting to the woman beside him.

“That was one time!” Toni exclaimed.

Fangs’s groaned when Toni aimed a well placed punch to his arm, but the grin on his face didn’t falter. “We should do that again,” he mentioned after a moment.

Sweet Pea watched the dynamic across the table, idly picking at the fries Toni had pushed his way before he added fuel to the fire. “Make Toni cry in her beer?”

You cursed under your breath as a sudden pain shot through your shin. “Ow, Toni!”

“Sorry, wrong leg,” she apologized,her fiery gaze not leaving Sweet Pea’s amused one.

Ignoring the antics of his two best friends, Fangs pushed forward with his plan. “No, have one of those wild nights out like we used to down the quarry and then drag our drunk asses in here for two am burgers.”

Toni gave a snort. “I’ll pass.”

There had been enough years spent drinking and eating like idiots and Toni had no interest in reliving those times of her life.

Considering for a moment, Sweet Pea gave a shrug. “I haven’t had a wild hair in a while,” mischief danced in his dark eyes and he grinned widely over at Fangs. “I’m down.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They may be responsible members of the community and old enough to know better, but if you didn’t know better, you’d think the two of them shared the same braincell.

“You in Y/N?”

As irresponsible and entertaining as Fangs’s idea sounded, your heart sank knowing it wasn’t an adventure you’d be able to join them in. You had allowed yourself this one night, this piece of childhood, but you couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow yourself to get in any further. You were in Riverdale to do business and when that business was concluded, you would disappear out of their lives once again.

“I’m not really in a spot to be making plans right now, Fangs,” you lamented.

Undeterred, Fangs waved off your worry. “That’s alright. We’ll plan it for the next time you come to town.”

“Ok.”

A side smile slid across your features. You knew there was no truth behind your words, but the idea had trilled Fangs and freed you of any more badgering on the subject. You had no idea what was in store over the coming weeks, but there was no point in upsetting the apple cart when so much was still up in the air.

The beeping of a phone drew everyone’s attention from the conversation at hand to check their devices, Toni’s brow furrowing at the communication that came across the screen. “Alright, I gotta go. I’ve got adult things to deal with.”

Taking the hint, Fangs slid from the booth and Sweet Pea followed suit. While it wasn’t late by any stretch of the imagination, everyone had eaten their fill and work would come early tomorrow. Despite Fangs’s desire to relive their youth, nights of staying out till dawn were long gone. In their place came a steady paycheck and responsibilities to more than just the Serpents.

“Ooo, like a super sexy hot date with that lady colleague?” Fangs teased, eyes alight with humor when Toni rolled her eyes.

“No. More like an inspection coming up and closing I have to prepare for tomorrow.” Shrugging off Fangs’s teasing, Toni turned her attention on you as you slid from the booth right behind the guys. “I’ll drop you off at your car.”

“I can take her.”

Your blood ran cold at Sweet Pea’s offer. As much as you’d enjoyed the evening, you had no interest in being left alone with him, not after the last scene you’d had at the motel. Though it may not be as bright as it once was, the flame that was between the two of you still flickered and you worried that any amount of time spent together would only strengthen it, making it harder to leave when your time in Riverdale was up. Because you were leaving when this was done; you had another life waiting for you and being dragged back into what used to be was not an option. Not anymore.

“No, that’s ok. I rode over with Toni, she can-”

“It’s kind of out of your way, Topaz.” Sweet Pea interrupted, cutting off any excuse you could have fired back.

Fangs gave a wide smile and swung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you tight against his side. “Besides, you got all the time with her earlier today. Share the love.”

“Alright fine.” Ignoring the pleading look you gave her, Toni turned on her heel and clicked her way towards the main door. “Don’t forget Fangs, we need to check on that new flip tomorrow night.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he muttered, waving off Toni’s concern. Hands on your shoulder, as if he was afraid to let go in case you made a run for it, Fangs expertly maneuvered you towards the main door.  “This will be just like old times! Hope you still like to ride bitch.”

“Do I have an option?” You all but seethed.

Heart thumping heavy in your chest, you were unable to stop the butterflies in your stomach from fluttering. Sweet Pea’s willingness to give you a ride set alarm bells off in your system; you had hopped after the pushback he kept getting from you, first at the Wyrm and later that night at your motel, he’d let sleeping dogs lie, but the man seemed to be a glutton for punishment and unable to mind his own business where you were concerned.

From somewhere behind you, Sweet Pea gave a deep chuckle. “You could always ride in the bed of the truck.”