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maximotts · 3 years ago

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♡ 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘵. 𝘪𝘪 ♡ {𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵}

pt. i || pt. iii

a/n: ahaha remember when I said all would be fixed in this part? Turns out I lied. Part 2 was getting way too long and I didn't want this to feel rushed so part 3 will be the final part, but fret not, I'm finalizing part 3 as we speak because I didn't want to leave y'all at another painful cliffhanger. That'll be up right after this one before I go to bed tonight

warnings: angst, another semi-argument, Wanda reading Natasha's thoughts, a gallon of hurt feelings, panic attacks (Wanda)

summary: Natasha can't give Wanda space anymore after an Incident. aka the Secret Softy finally realizes she misses the Small Sunshine

words: 3.1k

masterlist. || navi. || request info/rules. :open

𝘮𝘰𝘺𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘬𝘢𝘺𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘬𝘢 = 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘬𝘢 = 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘰𝘺 = 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵

✣ ✣ ✣

It’d been three weeks. Three weeks since she’d seen Wanda, eaten any meals with her, watched her dark hair fall gently over her shoulders as she laughed, or felt her soft hands brush against her fingers for reassurance or in a silent request to be held. Safe to say, Natasha missed Wanda terribly. Even more so, the guilt from how deeply she’d hurt the person she cared about was eating her alive. She saw Wanda’s wounded face almost as frequently as she blinked and she longed to reach out and hug her until it was all better.

She had made attempts. The night of her blow up, Natasha knocked on Wanda’s door for a good five minutes. It was obvious she was in there, sitcom laughter emanating from her television. After a while it was clear she wasn’t ready to talk and Natasha understood; she wouldn’t want to talk to her either. She resigned herself to seeing Wanda at breakfast the next morning, hoping maybe a friendly smile from across the room would let the girl know she wasn’t mad at her. But Wanda was nowhere to be found. Two days of missed meals later and having tripped over a dirty sandwich plate in front of Wanda’s room and Natasha realized she was purposely avoiding even the possibility of having to sit next to the redhead when she ate. Again, Natasha couldn’t blame her.

Now three weeks in, Natasha settled on just walking in. Wanda rarely kept her door locked when she was inside, she and Natasha were the only ones with permanent rooms on the female residence side and there was never an issue with Nat coming in unannounced- until now of course. An hour’s worth of hyping herself up behind her, she took the ten steps next door to where she’d hopefully be able to fix her awful mess. Still she hovered outside, hand outstretched, hovering as she took one last deep breath.

Her hand never reached the doorknob.

Before Natasha could make contact with the metal, a hot spark of red zapped her hand and she jumped back to avoid further attack. “Wa-”

“Don’t even think about it, Natasha Romanoff.” The first time she heard that voice again, she didn’t expect it to sound so dangerous. Natasha expected anger, but she didn’t know Wanda could sound so threatening.

She’d be a fool to try the knob again, it’d only upset her further. Nevertheless, it was important she at least got part of her message out. “I know you’re upset, Wanda. I’m upset with myself too. I was wrong, so wrong. I never should have hurt you like I did, I should have just talked to you. That’s on me. I want to prove to you I’m sorry, maybe even earn your trust back eventually? Whenever you’re ready.” Natasha sighed, twisting her still tingling hand in the other. “I miss you, but I ruined us. Not you. I’m sorry, Wanda.”

Unbeknownst to Natasha, Wanda had wandered closer to the door as soon as she noticed the other pacing outside of her doorway. She wasn’t ready to talk to her; she couldn’t find a way to face her yet without fear of looking like she was coming crawling back without having heard an apology, but before she could think too hard on it, Natasha was speaking. Her heart grew heavy with the weight of Natasha’s words. She wasn’t one for feelings or true emotions and although fairly clumsily uttered, Wanda knew sincerity when she heard it. Swayed as her heart was to run into the arms of the woman she missed for the past week, her brain instantly reminded her of other words.

You still want her after she told you how clingy you are? She’s right. You are pathetic.

The ache was back, stinging just as sharp as the day she’d first heard. She couldn’t yet.

Wanda’s back hit the wall, sinking to the floor with her knees huddled close to her chest. She knew Natasha had just been angry when she lashed out, that she wouldn’t typically be so public with her outbursts, much less direct them towards her, but there were some true feelings within those poison laced words and Wanda didn’t want to have that conversation yet.

“Well.. you know where to find me.” Wanda hated how sad Natasha sounded; she must’ve been tearing herself apart. She despised not being able to fix things. Soft footsteps told Wanda she was fully alone again and although that should have let her relax, she groaned with how empty she felt once more.

✣ ✣ ✣

Another week went by with no exchanged words and Natasha was beginning to give up hope. She’d ruined everything between them seemingly irreparably; asking any of her teammates yielded a non-committal response, none of them were spending tons of time with her either. She’d given up on knocking, having only met silence or words of warning. All she could do was wait.

For Wanda’s part, she felt like she was going to burst. Her skin felt like it was on fire, nervous energy sparking right under the surface. She’d closed herself off to everyone, opening herself up to Natasha was a mistake, it must have been. Her last words to her had been apologetic and kind, but the hurtful ones still lingered and she felt stuck. It was tearing her apart. Even more so, today’s training left her disoriented- earthquake simulation. As the fake ground shook under her and buildings fell, Wanda was spiraled back to childhood and more recently, Sokovia, and although she played it off as nothing with others, as soon as she was back in the safety of her room she fell apart.

Before she would seek out Natasha, whisper her worries against her skin from under the safety of a warm blanket. She couldn’t do that now, couldn’t ask such a thing from Natasha after what she said and after near radio silence for a month. Wanda huddled in her own bed, tired eyes staring longingly at the wall separating her and Natasha’s room. The person she wanted -needed- was so close, but so far. “You’re fine. You��ve dealt with this alone before.”

✣ ✣ ✣

Natasha couldn’t sleep. Not for lack of exhaustion; she’d been training longer these days in hopes of catching more glimpses of Wanda, just to make sure she looked okay. It was working and thankfully from what she could see, Wanda was alright. The past few days were different though; she looked more tired, dragging along more and more, and now today she’d survived the earthquake simulator. To anyone else, Wanda looked like her normal self, quiet and to herself, but Natasha saw the girl’s hands shake, watched her stance go slack in a way she’d warned Wanda against many times. Afterwards, Wanda was off to her usual seclusion before Natasha could reach her from across the room so she settled for giving Bruce a stern talking to instead. He should’ve known better than to shove Wanda in that simulation, especially by herself.

She left a properly admonished Bruce, heading in the direction of Wanda’s room. Arguments be damned, she wouldn’t let Wanda explode alone, even if she hated her for intruding after. If her repeated self-reassurance weren’t enough to convince her by the time she reached her destination, the moans and whines from within set her mind. Natasha hovered again, weighing the consequences, but Wanda let out such a sob that she couldn’t ignore. “Wanda? Can I come in please?” Her hand landed safely on the door, an improvement from last time.

“It’s just me, I wanted to check on you after training.” No response, but no rejection either. She turned the knob, grateful Wanda seemed to have forgotten to lock the door. Whether it was a mistake or a silent hope for Natasha’s intervention, she didn’t know, but she would use the opportunity. She could barely find Wanda in the dark room, but her eyes settled on the small form in the middle of her large bed and Natasha was by her side in an instant.

“Wanda? Sweetheart, hey, it’s me. What’s wrong?” Her eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide with fear. Natasha longed to scoop her up, but she couldn’t startle her; she didn’t even know if she’d want her there once she realized who she was. Still, it hurt so deeply to have let her get this bad; she could’ve helped if Wanda trusted her enough to reach out. Natasha waited for what felt like hours until Wanda noticed her, crouching by a bed was rough on her tired knees, but she’d stay like that forever if need be. When Wanda finally made eye contact, she only stared at the redhead, as if figuring out whether the woman in front of her was real or not. She took a daring step, holding her hand out to Wanda, keeping it in her eyeline as long as she could until her palm reached her head. Her thumb moved, ever so softly, over her scalp as a test. Anything she could do to soothe her. “I’m here, Wands.”

If Natasha weren’t so strong, Wanda would’ve knocked her over. She’d thrown her full weight onto her in an instant, clinging to Natasha for dear life while her lower half still hung from the bed. There were so many things tearing at her, so much emotion she needed to unload, but she was too overwhelmed. Natasha had come to her. Had ignored their month of silence and hurt feelings to try to aid her and it left her stunned. “Tash- Natasha.. I-I’m so sorry..”

“Ah, no none of that,” Natasha stood with a grunt, taking Wanda with her to set them both on the bed. She navigated her way to the top of the bed in the dark, only stopping when her back hit the headboard, letting Wanda hold onto her, “This is my fault, I’m sorry. I should have been here for you.”

Wanda shook her head slowly, burying herself as far into the crook of her neck as deep as she could. “No. I should’ve been able to handle training today. You were right, I can’t do anything myself. I’m weak and pathetic and..” Sobs took over any chance of coherent words, shaking against the warm body she’d missed so much. Part of her screamed to move away, to suck up her tears and prove to Natasha she was just fine on her own. But she couldn’t pretend. She was fine on her own, she could handle it, but she needed the comfort of someone she trusted too. Someone she could relay her thoughts too instead of bottling them all inside until they got the best of her.

Before she knew it, Natasha felt tears rolling down her cheeks as well. She hated crying, couldn’t stand being so outwardly vulnerable with someone else, but if Wanda could be with her then she owed her the same trust. Toned arms pulled the small woman trembling against her closer, pressing frantic kisses to the crown of her head, anything to show her apologies. “You’re not weak for your emotions, detka. It’s one of the strongest things you could do to allow yourself to open yourself up and trust me.. I should have given you that same trust and been honest from the start.” Natasha cradled Wanda’s head to her chest, rocking her as sweetly as she could. She knew she was holding her a fraction too tight, but she couldn’t help it. Reassuring fingers brushed through long brunette hair, keeping her as close as possible.

“Can you forgive me?” The muffled voice from below temporarily shook Natasha from her waterfall of revelations and she remembered why they were in this situation.

“Moya sladkaya detka, you were forgiven weeks ago. You were trying to help me and yes, we need to talk about how I deal with the aftermath of long missions because I do sometimes need time to myself, but nothing, nothing you did warranted how I hurt you.” Wanda froze and for a moment Natasha was scared she would pull away, but she nodded slowly. “Can you forgive me?”

That was a loaded question. Wanda fought to clear her thoughts, organize them in any way that could possibly make sense. She wanted so badly to simply accept and stay in Natasha’s arms. It wasn’t that she thought Natasha was lying to her; she truly believed she was sorry for what she did, but that didn’t mean those words didn’t still swirl through her head everyday since she’d first uttered them. It was hard to think so close to her. Wanda pried herself away from Natasha, not missing the way Natasha kept hold on her hips as if letting go meant she’d lose her forever. “I want to forgive you, Natasha.”

It hurt, but it was fair. She didn’t expect an easy apology and didn't deserve one either. “There’s a but coming, right?” Wanda couldn’t meet her eyes; she only avoided eye contact when she had more to say and was biding her time. “You don’t have to forgive me, Wanda. I’m willing to do whatever you need to make you feel safe again, no matter how long it takes.” And she meant it. Natasha would put in the work for Wanda, she was more than worth it.

She knew what she needed. It was the only way she could think of easing her mind. Still, Wanda promised she wouldn’t do it again unless she had to, but… she had to. “I need to feel you.” A hesitant ring-clad hand reached out, tapping Natasha’s temple to finish the thought she couldn’t speak. “Nothing traumatic, nothing too deeply buried.. hopefully, at least.” Rarely was it hard for Wanda to search out thoughts in someone about a particular person who crossed their mind regularly. She hoped it was more than wishful thinking that Natasha had her in her thoughts with some frequency. “Please, Tash… I need to know you feel more for me than just ‘clingy, weak puppy.’”

Natasha opened her mouth to retort, to try to take her harsh words back, but she knew it wouldn’t help. The thought of Wanda searching through her mind again scared her still. Last time left her shaken for weeks, months, after what she’d dug up, but back then Wanda was looking to hurt her and damn, she was great at it. She had to trust she wouldn’t do that now. Trust was so hard. A promise was a promise, though. Natasha took Wanda’s free hand in both of hers, a lifeline to hold while she gave herself to the woman she cared so much for. “Okay.. be gentle?”

Wanda let out a chuckle; Natasha’s sensitive side was so very cute. “I would never be anything but, dorogoy.” Natasha nodded, swallowing her fears with reassurance. Wanda was only ever kind to her, too much at times; Steve and Sam never missed an opportunity to poke fun at Natasha when in the early days Wanda was practically exploding with nerves around the redhead. Eventually they figured out it was less that Wanda thought Natasha was going to beat the pulp out of her and more that she wished the older woman would crush her with her thighs- but the two men waited for Natasha to figure that one out on her own.

“Go ahead, Wands. Just be quick about it, alright? I don’t want to spill all my secrets right now.” Wanda agreed with a quiet hum, shaking her head and straightening her spine before moving her fingers alongside Natasha’s head. It reminded her of the first time they’d officially met; a bittersweet memory of how stunning she felt her then enemy was, but bringing her trauma to the surface before those steadfast blue eyes caught sight of her. Now though, Wanda was careful. Only going deep enough to look at Natasha’s memories and thoughts about her. How surprised she was that Wanda was as powerful as she was. Her instant and ongoing distrust of her when she and her brother came to aid the Avengers in Sokovia. Natasha’s annoyance at her stolen red jacket, with an added and apparently shocking sense of possessiveness brought on by seeing her in her clothing. Interesting. Wanda would note that little fact for the future.

Red ringed eyes shone in the darkness, both locked onto Natasha’s and staring far past her. She wanted to be open and honest, that was the whole point. Consequently Wanda let Natasha see what she was seeing and with every twinge of irritation her past self felt towards Wanda and her initial attempts to gain trust with her new team, specifically with herself, her current self cringed at her behavior. But slowly things shifted. Resentment shifted to reluctant endearment, then care and protection and finally into where she longed for Wanda’s calming presence when she was stressed or wanted a confidant. The weight of vulnerability felt like being flayed alive and despite the hand Natasha held using one finger to stroke reassuringly at her palm, she squirmed as they approached that night Natasha came home a month ago.

“You’re fighting me.” The brunette’s eyebrows furrowed, pushing harder at the memory Natasha was keeping away from her. “Stop it.”

Red curls shook as Natasha hung her head; she didn’t want to live through it again. Every night it haunted her. She should’ve just talked to her, given her credit for being one of the most understanding people she’s ever met, having her see it again would just push Wanda further away- “I can still hear your thoughts, Natasha.” Her racing concerns rang loud in Wanda’s own brain, blocking out any hope of unlocking that dreaded outburst until she could get her to calm down. “Trust me, please. You have to let me in.” True, Wanda could forcibly rip the memory from her with ease. It would take such little effort, but she wouldn’t- couldn’t. She needed Natasha to let her see, allow herself to be this forthcoming with Wanda. That would speak louder than anything.

It took everything in Natasha to take her next breath, “Okay, do it.” Wanda breathed a sigh of relief, Natasha’s agreement giving her hope of progress. She slipped her hand from Natasha’s warm grasp, ignoring the small sad noise she was sure Natasha didn’t want to talk about. Instead her hand went to the back of Natasha’s head and brought it forward to rest on her shoulder, her nose promptly burying itself in the crook of Wanda’s neck. Her gentle floral scent settled Natasha’s worries; it’d been too long since she was allowed so close. “I trust you.”

#wandanat #scarletwidow #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat fic #wandanat angst #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #marvel fic #my writing #angst

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oswincoleman · 3 years ago

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Jenna Coleman's 2021 Year in Review, Part 2: Interviews

Today, I will be listing all of Jenna Coleman's interviews this year, and point out some interesting points made in each of them. After going through them one by one, I discovered that there were far more than I had initially thought, and so my summary of each of them gets shorter and shorter.

The Chris Evans Breakfast show, 5th January.

During this interview, Jenna talked about The Serpent. She described what it was like to film during the pandemic, having to stop filming in Bangkok with 2 hours' notice. She talked about how filming was finally completed in Tring, which acted as Paris, Bombay, Karachi, and many other locations. Jenna talked about her reaction to reading the script, and how the script changed over time and had to be adapted due to changing external conditions. She said that it was fun to play the part, but that learning French was one of the hardest things she had done. When asked about what she thought about the show when she watched it, she said that she finds it hard to be objective, since she spent so much time working on it, but that she got quite positive feedback from other people about it.

A brief summary of the interview can also be found here: https://virginradio.co.uk/the-chris-evans-breakfast-show-with-sky/25383/jenna-coleman-on-bbc-crime-thrillerthe-serpent-and-perfecting-her-french-accent

The One Show, 25th of January

Jenna talked a bit about how hot it was in Bangkok throughout the filming of The Serpent, and some of the process of filming the show.

Vogue

In this interview she talked about first learning about the upcoming show The Serpent during the time when she was performing All My Sons at the Old Vic in 2019, and that she was completely drawn into the story. She mentioned that even though a lot of elements of the show were invented because they were not known, that many of the crazy things that are shown really did happen, such as the poisoning of the monkey. She talked about Marie's complex character, and how she tried to understand her. The fashion of the show was also discussed in detail. When asked what she will be working on next, she mentioned an NDA project (which we now know is The Sandman), and "hopefully a few indie films" (she filmed one indie film later in 2021; Klokkenluider). She talked about spending time in lockdown learning French, cooking, gardening, and attending a photography course.

You can read the full interview here: https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/jenna-coleman-the-serpent-interview

Radio Times, 13-19 February

Jenna talked about being terrified about the challenge of playing the complex character of Monique while speaking a language she had just started learning, in a very unfamiliar setting halfway around the world. She said that she felt as if she was in My Fair Lady in preparations for the role. She talked about poring over pictures of Marie, and intently studying the audio recordings of her. She mentioned that the first scene she filmed was the end of the first episode, when she played Monique ignoring the pleas for help of the Dutch couple. Jenna also described the "Serpent curse" of having so many issues facing the production of the show. There was a brief discussion about All My Sons, and her acting career overall, and the interview ended with Jenna jokingly saying that maybe she will do musical comedy next.

This is probably my favourite interview with Jenna this year. It is very well written, explores several different topics, and is a great read!

Table Manners with Jessie Ware Podcast, 10th February

This podcast is mainly about food, but of course Jenna was asked, and also talked quite a bit about The Serpent, and other past and future projects.

Jenna said that when she was a child she went through a phase where she wouldn't eat anything, except cream cheese sandwiches and Heinz tomato soup, and even then she would sometimes hide sandwiches in a vase, so that she could go off and play instead of eating it. She was diagnosed with gluten intolerance 5 years ago, and now can't eat many of the foods she loved to eat previously. She describes herself as a massive coffee addict. Jenna also told the funny story of singing karaoke in Ibiza when she was 12, with Charlotte Church.

You can listen to the podcast here:

https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9yc3MuYWNhc3QuY29tL3RhYmxlbWFubmVycw/episode/OWNkM2E4ZjMtYzZkMS00NmZhLThkODctY2M2ODkxMTg1ZDYx?sa=X&ved=0CAIQuIEEahcKEwjw4J7Twof1AhUAAAAAHQAAAAAQQg

Interview with Edith Bowman

Watch the interview here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heXOz0oxlzI&t=1283s

The Glass Magazine

In this interview, Jenna talked about deciding that she wanted to become an actress when she was 10, and played a role in a theatre (I think she is referring to playing the second Italian Bridesmaid in Summer Holiday, the part for which she had to sing "Happy Birthday" to herself). Jenna says that she did not expect to be cast when she auditioned for Doctor Who, as she thought that they would cast someone really famous instead of her. She also discussed her excitement about playing a young and vivacious Victoria. When discussing The Serpent, Jenna mentions many things that were also addressed in other interviews. Finally, she says how much she loves change, and that she considers the prospect of constantly working with other people at other locations to tell other stories exhilarating.

Read the full interview here:

https://www.theglassmagazine.com/glass-speaks-to-british-actor-jenna-coleman/

Click the City

This is the first interview with Jenna ahead of the release of The Serpent on Netflix. Jenna talked about never having been interested in the true crime genre before getting sent the scripts for The Serpent. She talked about learning to play a bilingual character, and how powerful a change of language from English to French, or vice versa is in telling the story. She discussed how power is portrayed, both in The Serpent and in Victoria, and how the direction for the show was very open. And of course the interview also discussed the various costumes Jenna wore for the show, and how those reflected Marie's development.

Read the full interview here: https://www.clickthecity.com/tv/article/90311/interview-jenna-coleman-on-playing-accomplice-in-true-crime-series-the-serpent/

The Laterals, issue 6

In this interview, Jenna talked about what she had been up to during lockdown, and that she had been learning psychology. She said that she recently drove over a large rock, and burst the tire of her car, and that she subsequently decided to learn to get better at various DIY tasks. Jenna describes being drawn to the role because she was intrigued by the psychology of Marie, and the story of the mystery of who she really is, what parts of her act is pretence, and what is real. She talked about trying to understand Marie, and how she could go along with it all. Jenna also talked about how she chooses the roles she plays; that she likes playing very different characters that are very different from herself, that she doesn't like repetition, and that it is a lot about getting the right script at the right time. She says that she was offered roles in many psychological thrillers after The Cry, but that she wanted to do something else instead. When asked about how she prepared for various roles, Jenna spoke about how she loves playing real people, and that she likes to do intensive research into the real life characters she has played (Victoria and Marie). Finally, she also discusses her legacy in Doctor Who, and her experiences from it.

Dutch Interview for RTL Boulevard, 1st of April

In this brief TV interview, Jenna talked about working with the young Dutch actors Ellie de Lange and Armand Rosbak, and meeting the real Herman Knippenberg.

Philippine Daily Enquirer

In addition to previous things already mentioned, Jenna talked about how tough it was to read Marie's diaries in preparation to playing the role. This, and the next few interviews mainly repeat elements that I have already described in previous summaries, so my description for them will be rather short.

Entertainment Weekly

In this interview, Jenna goes into more detail into the challenges of learning French, and she succeeded despite only having 3-4 weeks to learn it.

Read the interview here:

https://ew.com/tv/jenna-coleman-netflix-the-serpent-interview/

Forbes

In this interview, Jenna talks a lot about Marie's psychology

Read the interview here:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/danafeldman/2021/04/01/in-the-serpent-jenna-coleman-portrays-a-woman-willing-to-kill-for-love/?sh=24f0ce6c4eb6

Boston Herald

Read the interview here:

https://www.bostonherald.com/2021/04/02/one-character-two-personas-lured-jenna-coleman-into-serpent-role/

Shondaland

This is a quite in-depth interview, in which Jenna describes her decision in crafting Marie's voice, making a deliberate decision to not make it exactly like the real Marie's voice, who apparently did not have nearly as strong of an French accent when speaking English than Jenna portrayed her as. Once again, Jenna really went out of her way to make the role even more of a challenge for herself, and to distinguish it vocally from all her other roles, as she always does. Jenna mentioned a lightness between takes, to compensate for how dark the story was. And that she formed many great friendships while working on the show.

Read the interview here:

https://www.shondaland.com/inspire/a36006231/in-the-serpent-jenna-coleman-explores-the-scary-and-seductive-world-of-serial-killers/

Brieftake

This detailed interview is one of my favourites from this year, and discusses The Serpent, as well as many past, and future projects that Jenna is involved in.

Read the interview here:

https://brieftake.com/interview-the-serpent-jenna-coleman/

Elle France

Read the interview here:

https://www.elle.fr/Loisirs/Series/Le-Serpent-sur-Netflix-qui-est-Jenna-Coleman-la-complice-de-Tahar-Rahim-dans-la-serie-3922779#xtor=CS5-88

Town and Country

Read the interview here:

https://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/arts-and-culture/a35981890/jenna-coleman-marie-andree-leclerc-the-serpent-interview/

Collider

Jenna talked about understanding Marie, and starting to sympathize with her, when she started uncovering who she really was, rather than how she presented herself. She also told a funny story of The Serpent facing so many production issues, that her brother made some jokes when filming was actually, finally, completed, after a 13 month shoot. In this interview, Jenna also talked about some past and future projects. She went into more detail here about Klokkenluider, and her role in it, than in any other interview so far.

Read the interview here:

https://collider.com/jenna-coleman-interview-the-serpent-netflix/

In Creative Company

Jenna describes many aspects of the story, Marie's character, and the process of filming The Serpent, and adds several anecdotes as well, such as the competition between Foufou the dog, and the monkey. She said that she was most proud about just getting it all done, because with many delays and other things that affected production, she was happy that it was able to be completed, and released.

Watch the interview here:

https://youtu.be/WfyHZgqyaBw

Second Interview with Edith Bowman

Watch the interview here:

https://vimeo.com/536453475

Byrdie

In this interview, Jenna talked a lot about The Serpent, and also discussed how she has grown increasingly confident about being on set throughout her acting career. She gives some advice for aspiring actors, and describes her favourite beauty products, and what shows she had been watching recently.

Read the interview here:

https://www.byrdie.com/jenna-coleman-zoom-date-5185691

Marie Claire Australia

Read the interview here:

https://www.marieclaire.com.au/jenna-coleman-interview-the-serpent

Grazia

After a lot of interviews about The Serpent in early 2021, this is a recent interview from November, which predominantly focuses on Jenna's favourite skincare and make-up products. But she also discusses how important costume and make-up are in stepping out of one's own person, and into the character that one is portraying. She talks about Victoria and The Serpent, and some Christmas traditions of hers.

Read the interview here:

https://graziadaily.co.uk/beauty-hair/makeup/jenna-coleman-beauty-interview/

Sheerluxe

Jenna talks about Christmas traditions, new years' resolutions, and what she is looking forward to in the new year.

Read the interview here:

https://sheerluxe.com/life/festive-coffee-with%E2%80%A6-jenna-coleman

#jenna coleman #jenna louise coleman #year in review #year in review 2021 #interviews #the serpent #bbc #netflix

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physicalturian · 4 years ago

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[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 2

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5016 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Flirting … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

-- Part 1 -

The heat of two bodies against one another. Skin upon skin, fingers grazing tenderly. Hands gripping suddenly, forcefully yet securely. I am holding onto dear life on his broad shoulders. My nails digging inside the skin. It makes him grunt in pleasure. I can’t hear it over my own sound of pleasure. My head lolls back, my neck is being attacked. Bites, kisses and words against it. My entire body is aflame. I’m now holding onto the bed head. I’m not surrounded by darkness anymore.

The landscape has changed, I’m not on my bed. It’s a hospital bed. No one is around, someone is on top of me, I can’t see their face. But it feels good. Hot breath against my skin, soft hands on my hips. The increasing pressure inside-

“Hey wake up! If you want to ride with me to campus, you better get your ass out of bed.” I was startled awake by one of my roommates who seemed on edge. From what my brain understood, I was late and from the look on her face, she was pissed.

Squinting my eyes at the sudden light from her brusque action of opening the curtains, I groaned. Her heels hitting the floor made my ears ring, it was too much too quickly but I wasn’t going to say anything. The ginger girl was stopped dead in her track by a hand on her shoulder, a softer voice spoke, “Come on Nami, look at her. Clearly, she went to sleep late again, give her some time to clear her head.” Robin said a lot calmer. With a small smile, she gave me a nod and pushed Nami out of the room.

“You have ten minutes at best, hurry up. She has plans today.”

“And I am hungry, could you make me a sandwich while I get dressed Robin?” I asked with the softest pleading eyes I could manage at this hour. She smiled knowingly in return and nodded, but did not leave until she added, “It’s the last time you leave crumbs on the counter from your midnight snacks.”

With wide eyes, I grimaced and nodded. It made her chuckle as she closed the door behind herself and left without a word.

The moment I was left alone, I remembered the dream I was having and hurriedly got out of bed. “Nasty brain, naughty.” I mumbled while undressing. Sure, erotic dreams weren’t bad, but the fact that I had dreamt about that stranger was something entirely new. Maybe it was to be expected if we interacted more like we did last night, if we had more sessions like last night’s one. Damn, am I that needy for a good fuck? Is this what I’ve become? I thought with a huff.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my phone and all that I needed for class before leaving the room. On my way out I saw the notification that had popped on my screen, a message from the doctor but it was one from last night.

HandSurgeon: I’ll allow you to call me doc, just because my username is not very adequate when shortened. But watch it.

Looking at it I laughed and wrote back, albeit later than when he had sent his message.

Edelweiss: Good morning to you too, doc. Hope you were able to catch some z’s, because of you I almost missed my class.

Edelweiss: kidding, it’s entire my fault but I want to blame it on you for the fun.

I shoved my phone in my pocket when I heard my two friends’ voices, telling me I needed to hurry and hurry I did. I grabbed the sandwich Robin handed me and thanked her with all my heart, telling her I’d make the food tonight but she told me she’d rather not die of food poisoning at a young age.

“Come on, I can make some things! We’ll order in, then?” I said, leaning on the counter with a grin as I took a bite of the food.

“Careful, Nami has invited her best friend tonight. He’s constantly famished, and eats a large amount of food so I’ll take you up on that offer another day. Now off you go, Nami’s waiting in her car.”

Giving her a thumbs up I leaned off the counter and pondered, “So Nami’s cooking tonight? I see why she’s stressed out now. Anyone else coming by?” I asked quickly. Robin chuckled elegantly, her back leaning against the counter, in front of me, with her arms crossed over her chest. “He might bring one of his friends, but it all depends on his schedule. Nothing definitive yes. Now off you go!” She shooed me, smiling. Most of her classes were in the evening, and yet she woke up that early every day.

It was also fascinating how, even when in her pajamas she looked so dignified.

Without losing any more time, I waved her goodbye and rushed down all the flight of stairs to jump into Nami’s car. “Good morning-“ I closed my mouth when she gestured for me to shut up, pointing at her ear and at the board. Looking at the screen, she was on a call with someone but started the car without another word. I could only hear her replies, but tried not to eavesdrop. To stop myself from falling asleep, I took my phone once more and saw a message from HandSurgeon.

I hated how it sent excitement coursing through my body. Was I remembering the thrill of last night or was I that interested in talking to him? I did not ponder the question longer and opened the app.

HandSurgeon: Good morning Edelweiss. Are you feeling good? Physically.

HandSurgeon: We’ve barely done anything. But don’t worry, you’ll blame me later when we’ll have more fun.

Edelweiss: I’m great, a bit sore but that’s on me.

Edelweiss: don’t threaten me with a good time 😩, you can’t start the horny talk this early in the morning. How do you expect me to focus during my classes?

HandSurgeon: Haha, I’ll stop. Do you have time to talk?

Edelweiss: ominous much? But yes, I do have time to talk. Something on your mind?

A knot formed in my stomach, I started to worry he’d say we couldn’t keep doing this. Would it be that bad? We’d known each other for so little time, it’s not like I couldn’t find someone else to fuck.

I huffed at my own thought, I could find someone else but did they have HandSurgeon’s charisma? Unfortunately, no, I was bound to be horny for a strong doctor that I did not even know the face of.

HandSurgeon: I got a bit too excited last night, I forgot to mention the most important info.

HandSurgeon: Those being: we can stop whenever you’d like. We can try whatever you feel comfortable trying. If you said you were ready to do something, but in the end feel like you can’t do it: tell me. You can change your mind, it works the other way around, too. You can say you want to try something even though you were against it at first.

HandSurgeon: I won’t always be up to… play but I will be willing to help you if you ask nicely. And if I’m awake.

HandSurgeon: Finally, always call me sir, during our sessions.

I hid the relief I fell in real life, when I read all his messages. I did not want Nami to ask me what was wrong, nor who I was texting, but it was hard to hide the satisfied smile on my lips. Pursing my lips, I thought of what to answer without looking too desperate.

Even with the thought put into it, I read my message over a few times and desperation dripped out of it.

Edelweiss: you scared me, I thought you were going to just disappear or something. I’m good with all of this. If I can add one, be honest with me? Like, uh…

Edelweiss: If I’m being too pushy, but you’re busy, tell me, I’ll calm down haha.

Edelweiss: So… I agree to the terms, sir.

I saw him type, then stop. Then type again, before stopping again. Had I said something bad? I was going to put my phone away when he replied.

HandSurgeon: Good girl.

HandSurgeon: Now, I won’t be able to play tonight, but I’ll be free to text if you’d like.

HandSurgeon: It’ll give you time to rest, that way we’ll fuck you good once you’re feeling better.

I choked on my saliva. Why was he this casual saying things like this?

Edelweiss: I-

Edelweiss: I said don’t get me horny, the audacity you have to be that good with your words.

Edelweiss: I’ll be busy tonight too, but I’ll text you if it gets a bit boring.

Edelweiss: Also, are you not like… cutting people open or something? Why would you be awake this early with how late you went to sleep?

HandSurgeon: It’s cute how easy it is to get you flustered. Very interesting too. But I’ll stop for now.

HandSurgeon: Since you’re curious, I’m in bed. I have to meet with my intern in an hour, he’s very eager to learn.

HandSurgeon: Just like you, but maybe I find one more satisfying than the other 😉

Staring at the screen, I hesitated and felt my cheeks heat up. I wanted to be horny and ask him for a picture, or be funny and ask him for a picture. Both could work together, but should I flirt or ask in the most stupid way possible? I was curious if he’d be willing to send anything, I’m sure it’d make my day if he did send me a picture but I did not want him to force him either. You can’t force a dom to do shit, idiot, my common sense told me.

Edelweiss: send pic or fake.

HandSurgeon: Of my intern?

Good fucking lord, I’m an idiot. I typed back quickly, trying to fix my stupidity.

Edelweiss: of you in bed.

Edelweiss: maybe I’m asking for a nude? 🤔

HandSurgeon: Are you, now? What sparked that need? Do tell me. I’ll consider.

Edelweiss: I’m curious, and I wonder if you sleep dressed or not 😳

Hit and run. That’s all I could call what I had done. I dropped that message then locked my screen and stared straight ahead, regretting sending it. I couldn’t delete it since he had probably seen in, considering we were both online at the same time. We were both staring at the conversation, craving for more, awaiting the other’s reply to weight our own answer in return.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I rested my elbow on the small space by the window and felt my heart beat faster. I shouldn’t feel like that, I had literally fucked myself to his guidance hours ago. And yet, there was this stressed from asking him nudes. I mean, I hadn’t asked a dick pic per say… If he slept in pajamas it clearly wouldn’t be a nude, so…

My phone vibrated in my hand, I looked down so quickly my head slipped off my hand and hit the window with a thud. “Are you good? You look nervous, do you have a final today or…” I heard Nami ask. She threw me a side glance but kept her gaze focused on the road.

I was so focused on my own conversation; I had not realized she was done with her call. Had she been watching all of my reaction since then? No… no, probably not.

“I’m good, just need a bit of sugar.” I paused and continued casually, “Robin told me Luffy’s inviting someone tonight? Are you cooking or are you planning on ordering? They better pay their own shit, if we order in.” I grumbled, hoping to make her drop the subject.

I needed to stay focus on what she was saying but my brain was drifting to the pending message on Discord. Fortunately, my distraction worked and she replied, “If he’s coming, I’ll make him pay the entire orders.” She scoffed as she pulled up into the parking, her eyes still focused in front of her. “He owes me, and since it’s last minute, I’ll use that against him to not pay my food.” She added. I laughed at her logic, was it really last minute if she knew he was coming since this morning? Shaking my head, I unlocked my phone and opened the text.

HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

While I masked my reaction, my eyes sure widened for the span of a second. On that very screen was a picture of the doctor, or more precisely, his crotch covered with just a thin blanket covering it. I could see the shape of his cock, and it made it more sinful than a full dick pic. The v shape of his lower stomach, along with the happy trail, made the whole thing hotter than it was supposed to be. Is this for fucking real? Thinking for a second it might be a catfish, I finally looked at the rest of the pic and saw a badly torn piece of paper with the word ‘Edelweiss’ scribbled badly on it.

“Damn, who’s is this? Girl, you tapping that?” I quickly turned my phone face down and looked at Nami with what probably looked like guilt. “What? No. I’m on Twitter. I don’t have time to literally fuck around, too busy.” I stated, putting my hand on the door handle as I took hold of my bag.

She was about to say something else, but we spoke at the same time and she let me talk. “What time do you finish? I’ll be done around 5 pm if you’re still there.” I stepped outside the car and slammed it shut, waiting for my ginger friend to join me.

“Around that time too, we’ll head right back home after. I think Luffy and his annoying friend will already be there. I’ll sent you the menu, so that you can pick from it.” She then hurried off when she saw one of her classmates waving her over.

I let out a sigh and looked back at my phone, typing back while marching towards my class.

Edelweiss: Are you kidding me? Dude…

HandSurgeon: I’d prefer you call me doc than dude. Although sir is the most appealing… But what’s wrong?

Edelweiss: You’re telling me, someone that hot is on weird websites when I’m sure anyone would want to fuck you. No offense, but you’re probably very hot, so why are you like… domming online? Instead of your own pretty little sub in real life? Not that I’m complaining! I like it.

HandSurgeon: Schedule is shit. And I’ve been told I’m bitter. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it, I’ll get dressed now. You focus on your class.

Edelweiss: Oh I am definitely enjoying it, a lot.

Edelweiss: by the way, I came to a realization this morning…

Then we sent a message at the same time, I laughed nervously.

HandSurgeon: So you think of me when you sleep? Very cute.

Edelweiss: my brain was slow last night, but like. Did you sext me while in your office?

Edelweiss: maybe I did think of you in my sleep, but I don’t think we need to talk about that, my question is definitely more important.

I almost tripped over nothing, from looking at my phone instead of the path but I managed to make my way to class without a hitch. Throwing my bag over the desk, I sat down and waited for my professor. Checking Discord once more,

HandSurgeon: I did. It’ll happen a lot too.

Edelweiss: damn that means no sexy live for you

I replied without thinking. The loudest sigh escaped my lips, what even did I mean by that? Was I really considering giving him a show? What was I expecting from telling him that? I mean sure, if time goes on and I get more comfortable it could be fun…

HandSurgeon: If that day comes, I’ll be sure to get my earphones. I’m sure you’d actually enjoy the thrill of showing yourself off. Knowing full well I’m watching, maybe with a hand in my pants, ordering you around. There will be a “sexy live”, if you’re comfortable enough… The fact that I’m in my office only adds to the charm. Wouldn’t you say?

I blinked a few times, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I typed something then deleted it. I paused and typed again, before deleting it once more. Was he wrong? It was very exciting, just thinking about it. Even more so knowing he was willing to be in that situation, at his desk, looking at me getting off under his command. But also, even more knowing he’d be at his work place, where anyone could walk in on him being in such an embarrassing situation.

HandSurgeon: It looks like you’re speechless. But do answer me, would you get off on knowing someone could walk in? Knowing we could get caught, knowing they could see you fucking yourself on screen just for me. Just to please me. They wouldn’t know it’s you, but you’d know. My good girl fucking herself, showing off her perfectly fuckable body just for me.

I let my head fall back against the seat and took a deep breath. I felt suddenly self-conscious, even though I knew no one knew what was going on, on my screen. And yet, I had to look around to make sure before typing with a lot of hesitance. He hit the spot, I hated how right he was. But I replied in all honesty.

Edelweiss: …

Edelweiss: yes…

Edelweiss: I’d like that…. sir…

Edelweiss: I need to focus on my class, but now I don’t know if I’ll be able since you just went off and made me very much distracted now.

HandSurgeon: My hand slipped.

Edelweiss: the a u d a c i t y, then do tell me where it’ll slip next time 😉

Edelweiss: ok, no. that was bad. I’m trying, I’m not as good as you okay?

HandSurgeon: I think it’s a conversation best kept for late hours, wouldn’t you say?

HandSurgeon: I have to go. Focus on your class, or think of where you’d like my hands to go. The choice is yours, Edelweiss.

HandSurgeon: [send an attachment]

There it was, another picture of him. This time it was his gloved hand gripping the fabric around his thigh tightly, the sleeve of his long shirt was slightly risen. I could catch a glimpse of the hair on his arm but focused on the length of his slender fingers. Of the way his fingertips were digging in his pants, of the lines his muscles drew on the back of his hand and maybe of, once again, the fact that he was sitting at his desk. Instead of replying, I took it in and locked my screen to try and focus on the class.

I never thought I’d have a medical kink, but my thought would sometimes drift off, imagining him in his full surgeon outfit. Sitting on his chair, legs spread open while looking at me with a smirk. What it’d look like, I do not know, but I could only imagine the sultry gaze he could give me while in that position. He’d pat his thigh for me to come over and let me ride it- Shaking the thoughts away, I told myself to focus, and tried my best to keep up to that promise.

The rest of the day, I kept my hands off my phone the best I could. I wanted to keep texting HandSurgeon and have some fun, tease him the way he was teasing me but I did not know how to push his buttons. Suddenly I realized I had never asked what were his kinks. By default, being in control must have been one of them, but I was curious as of what else he enjoyed. I made a mental note to ask him next time we talked, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, it all depended on tonight’s fun.

Right, tonight… I don’t even know who’s the guy that’s coming over. Nami said that Luffy’s friend was annoying but maybe she was a bit biased since she was easily frustrated, which was ironic considering her best friend was the most tiring person ever. At some point during the day, she sent me a text with the name of the restaurant we were ordering at and told me to pick whatever I wanted.

Seeing the prices, I had to make sure she had sent me the right restaurant and sent her a text asking if it was alright. Her reply was, “I told you he owed me, he said to choose whatever restaurant I wanted. And I did. He has the money, might as well use it.”

I winced at her words and sent her my choice with a lot of reticence, adding, “If I get yelled that for picking something, even though I don’t know the guy, you’ll pay for my food.” She was quick to reply and told me it’ll be okay. “The dude might bitch and moan about it but he’ll eventually accept it” were her words. I don’t really know if it had helped or worsened my anxiety but I just let her do her thing and went on with the rest of my day without a hitch.

I was able to focus on my classes and assignments after a while, when my brain finally decided to shove the whole HandSurgeon conversation in the back of my head.

The day came to an end right on time. I had done my fair share of thinking for the day and needed a break. Knowing a nice warm meal was waiting for me at my apartment only made things ten times better. I rushed out of my last class with haste, almost bumping into other people and dropping my phone but I caught it before anything dramatic could happen.

When I stepped outside, I was met with a drizzle and had to walk faster to Nami’s car. I was lucky to see she was already there, waiting inside of it with music playing loudly. She was trying to fix her hair the best she could, and gave up when it looked half-decent. A startled gasp escaped her lips when I opened the car door and slipped inside, greeting her, out of breath.

“You scared me!” She gasped, a hand on her chest.

“Is it my fault? You’re on edge, not me.” I huffed, throwing my bag in the back of the car, making the ginger groan when she received a few droplets on her clothes. Apologizing, I buckled my seatbelt and we drove back home in a good mood. Food always lifted spirits, even more so after a draining day. On our way home, Nami started renting on how I will have to keep Luffy’s friend away from her because she couldn’t handle his attitude.

I did not dare ask her what happened but listened carefully. She did not give me any useful information about him, only telling me he was “arrogant, annoying, he’s bitchy and way too cocky because of his job.” I winced and was expecting the worst, probably a business man that was too proud of making money or a politician. No, no… Luffy would never befriend people like that, right?

All kind of ideas simmered in my head until we reached our apartment. I don’t know why, but I was going to knock. I quickly caught myself and unlocked the door, hanging my coat in the entrance as I took off my shoes. “Robin? Have they arrived yet-“ I was cut off when the excited black-haired man came rushing in and wrapped his arms around both Nami and I. She laughed and hugged him back, while I pushed him away, smiling softly. “Hello Luffy, let me get changed first? I smell like a wet dog.” I scoffed.

He agreed and pulled Nami to the side, bringing her to the living room. I did not look their way and instead went back to my room to get changed. Maybe I could catch him before he went to his evening activity? I kind of wanted to have a bit of fun before going back to eat… But then again, did I have time? Humming pensively, I locked my door and stripped naked then pulled out my phone.

Edelweiss: Good evening, can I suggest something? I want to make my evening more fun… maybe have something to look forward to this evening…

I waited a moment, sitting on my desk chair completely naked. It was frisky and I felt well… naked. Was it too bold? Should I just delete the message and get dressed? I did not have time to ponder longer that the little dot next to his name turned green. He had answered.

HandSurgeon: What do you suggest? I’m all ears.

Edelweiss: let’s say… I wanted to keep something inside me the entire evening… like an egg, you know those vibrating egg but like, not turned on because that’d be too much.

Edelweiss: here, this:

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

I made sure we could see my lower body, the hand holding the toy was right above my thighs and I angled it so he could see most of it. When I sent the picture, I felt the pressure in my stomach grow, maybe he’d refuse and I was getting excited over nothing.

HandSurgeon: I won’t be able to guide you, gorgeous.

HandSurgeon: But… I think it’s a great idea. Although, I need to be sure you’re not too sore to have some fun tonight.

Edelweiss: I’m good, I’m great. Don’t worry, I can definitely handle this. I mean, if you want to, sir.

HandSurgeon: The eagerness ever so present, you’re being very good asking for it. I would hate to punish you.

HandSurgeon: Let’s do it, if you think you can’t take it anymore send me a message and take it out.

HandSurgeon: But I’m sure a good girl like you could take it entire night, wouldn’t you agree?

My answer was to send him a picture of the toy inside me, my free hand gripping my thigh while spreading them wider.

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

HandSurgeon: Fuck. A warning next time. I’m not against more pictures, but let me remind you I’m not alone tonight.

HandSurgeon: Or is it what you’re looking for? You want to show off to me, but also to them? The odds of the people here looking at my phone are low, but they’re not null. That’s what gets you off.

I was going to reply but he sent another message that sent something coursing straight between my legs. The throb I managed to numb after this morning’s talk came back without much efforts needed.

HandSurgeon: Maybe to calm that eagerness, we should turn it on? Have you dripping wet for tonight? Would that help with how needy you’re feeling right now? You’d be surrounded by, let’s say your friends. But your thoughts would be nowhere near that, no.

HandSurgeon: You’ll be thinking of me. Of what I’d do to you tonight, looking forward to obey. To be on your knees, in your bed, expectant in front of your screen. Like a desperate girl, pleading for some relief.

My hand slipped on my desk and grabbed the little remote, pressing it to turn the toy on. I let out a shaky breath at the sensation, spread my legs wider to try to press it deeper but finding my attempt fruitless.

HandSurgeon: Get dressed, and go join your friends. I’ll be available to talk in a few.

HandSurgeon: But don’t get too greedy. If you think you’re getting close, you turn it off. I want you begging for an orgasm tonight. Are we good?

Edelweiss: Yes sir. More than good.

Edelweiss: Maybe… maybe I could call you, no video, to do it…

He’ll ask for me to be precise. But I felt like my pride would take a hit if I wrote it down, did I want to beg? I gave it a thought while getting dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. Usually I wouldn’t want to beg, but it felt different here. Maybe I could use this moment to find out more about him, his tastes… his kink.

HandSurgeon: “It”?

Edelweiss: Beg. You want me to beg, I am suggesting to do it on a call. That’s what you want right? You get off on being in a position of power but what else do you like?

HandSurgeon: I’ll have you begging, no matter what. That’s the fun, dear.

HandSurgeon: Now you’re curious about what I like? We’ll talk about it after tonight’s session, right now I have to go. Have fun, be good.

I thought it was going to be child’s play. The vibrations weren’t that strong, and it’s not like there was going to be a lot of things that’d turn me on during a friend gathering. Right? Right. It’s what I thought until I joined everyone in the living room and there stood a definition of handsome. I don’t know what Nami said about him but I’m sure she never mentioned how hot he was.

Nami, Luffy and Robin were sitting on the ground by the low table. They were taking the boxes of food from the bags and giving them to everyone. What caught my eyes was the man sitting in the couch, almost lazily. He was looking at the three people with something close to boredom, his arms spread on the back of the couch.

Suddenly I regret trying to make my evening more fun… Or did I? I’d have to see how the evening go to make an opinion on being in the company of such a beautiful man when I had my own hardship going.

[Part 3]

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112 notes · View notes

svnarintaro · 4 years ago

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it’s too late to say sorry

update: part two is up and you can read it here

authors note: IM IN A IMAGINE WRITING SPREE SOMEONE STOP ME PLEASE also i like using different names for the same characters im sorry :/

synopsis: hitoshi shinsou is known to be a top tier player, you only saw his as a jerk that toyed with other people's feelings, he was on his way for changing for the better; but he blew it.

word count: 1.9k words

warnings: !quirkless au! angst!!

!f*ckboy! hitoshi shinsou x reader

him and his entire demeanour pissed you off, you were not someone that was hateful but man did this man get on your nerves. girls and guys were falling like flies case of his 'irresistible' aura, the thought made you scoff. he was just another one of those players that care for thing other than themselves and you were sick of this whole pedestal that people put them on, and him oh how you wanted to knock them down and make them taste the reality of their destruction.

you and your best friends kendo and monoma were discussing what material you missed when you were sick on the way to the cafeteria, kendo perked up as if she remembered important information "oh also about the seating plan in chem.." you groaned and tilted your head back in annoyance, "don't tell me i'm sitting to this trust fund kid," you sarcastically pointed your thumb at the boy to your right, "shut it my dear peasant, you are a charity case to me so be grateful-" and as he was finishing up his sentence he got smack to the back of his head. "kendo that hur-" "be grateful that we haven't left you sorry butt yet." she let out a huff and continued what she was about to say as the three of you got to the cafeteria she took a shaky breath, "you kinda next to shinsou.."

you choked on air, "no no no no, i don't want o be next to a barney headed jerk-" before your rant even started you were cut off by the person behind you. "so you wanna continue talking about me behind my back or do you wanna say it to my face sweetheart, take your pick," you knew that voice, all too well. "first of all save your disgusting nicknames for a person that actually likes you." you turned your heel to give him the dirtiest glare you could fathom to show hitoshi shinsou.

"aww don't be like that baby.. i already know you'll turn around~" his smirk did not fall for a second, it only grew by the minute. "look i'm not looking to have anything on my criminal record, so if you want to keep your limbs in one piece i suggest you take my advice and piss off with my parting gift." you brought your fist to your mouth and shoved your middle finger in our mouth, and you proceeded to pull it out and flip him off and caught up with kendo and monoma who were laughing. 'they really are something else hm?' shinsou thought.

"man does he really put you in a bad mood hm?" neito teased and handed you the sandwich you wanted, "yeah she really did flip him off this time and threaten him?! i think that is the nicest exchange they've had all year!" kendo wheezed out, as you payed for your food you looked back to see shinsou sitting with his friends.

"so let's get this straight, you single handed moly pissed someone off so often they called you barney head, say they might break your limbs AND flip you off?!" kaminari screeched, while todoroki was purely confused, "did shinsou lose his ability to flirt his way out of this situation or something? cause honestly i feel like you lost you mojo a little bit." sero snorted at todoroki, "did you really have to say 'mojo'?" shinsou was just trying to figure out how to woo you now, his ultimate revenge as to get you to like him and break your heart and pummel it to smithereens.

now you had your chemistry class, and you were lab partners with shinsou, the given thought of being within a 2 metre radius of him mad you dread the class. the moment you walked in the class you saw a girl on his lap, her uniform was two sizes too tight, playing with his hair and her skirt rode up to show her red undergarments. "daddy~ can't we just skip?" you gagged at that nickname, the two of them stopped what they were doing and looked at you. the girl looked you up and down and she was obviously annoyed at your presence. "oh don't mind me i'm just a poor witness to see your panties on full display," you shrugged and made your way to your seat, "at least i have someone interested me," the girl smugly said, you rolled your eyes, "at least my coochie isn't free real estate."

the girl let out a 'hmph' and stormed out out the class, "free real estate? that's a new one." you didn't bother looking at him, and you opened your notebook and brought your data booklet out not even sparing him a glance. meanwhile the guy in front of you asked for a pen and you immediately complied and gave him one. hitoshi has never felt more offended from getting ignored and blown off again.

later in the class the teacher gave a worksheet to work on and you got stuck on a certain question and you didn't know what to do, "you forgot to balance the reaction so that's why you got the wrong answer." you looked to see shinsou looking at you, elbow on his table, "for someone who doesn't bother with class you remember a few things." you proceeded to add numbers to the elements that were written. for the rest of the class he continued to help you with your worksheet and the two of you got along for once. 'huh he may not be as bad as i thought he was.'

for the rest of the month he acted like this and it showed you that he wasn't the monster you thought he was, he was kind, considerate, funny and sweet. he avoided other girls too, "to think that you changed shinsou is actually kind of crazy, you're way more tolerable this way," you whispered as the two of you sat together and worked on some chemistry notes together, on his end of the story he was freaking out, he never felt this way, h heart was pounding out of his chest. he wanted it to stop, he was afraid. afraid of you not liking him back, he was afraid of commitment, he was afraid that he wasn't good enough for you.

"listen kaminari it is a reasonable plan, get them to like me, have them fall in love with me and boom i break up with her." for the past hour kaminari has been listening to shinsou on the phone go on and on about how he wanted to mess around with you, "they're an interesting person, they've got guts." the blond giggled, "i mean if you wanna quit the plan and hand them over to me-" "don't think about it rat."

meanwhile he was thinking about how he was so calm around you, he felt the need to drop his act and be himself around you. "looks like someone is getting attached~"

really? did he get attached? no what would be too cliché for his own good. so he sought his time to be taken by girls, other girls where were desperate to be in his attention span, "hey kaminari give me the number of every one of your flings i need to let off some steam.." shinsou needed to get you off his mind.

on the other hand you were talking to kendo, "okay look i know that i said he was trash and whatever but he changed and.. i think i might like him." you were gushing over all the sweet things he did, all the sweet things he said, you saw all the signs that he returned your feelings. "i say go for it! shoot your shot when you can, just be careful and know that me and neito are here for you and will beat him up if he dares hurt you." kendo was really on edge with him, it was as if shinsou got possessed and she knew something wasn't right, but if he made you happy she couldn't stop you. "thank you kendo~"

it was as if a switch was flipped, the Hitoshi shinsou that you hated was back and had more playthings than ever, make out sessions in the halls, skipping classes to fool around with anyone and what hurt the most was that he was avoiding you like the plague. “he is going through a phase right now, i promise he is better than this you saw how he was weeks ago please guys you have to believe me.” you were crying in monomas room about your ruined week. you knew what was the truth and that was that you were played, you were a fool to think that he was changing for the better. “i knew he was a jerk, y/n you deserve better than this, you deserve someone that will really appreciate you, someone that won’t have to change and will be who they really are in front of you..” you looked up from lap and stared at monoma and kendo. ‘these are my people, they will never betray me.’ “i love you guys,” you declared as you threw your arms around their necks and cried your heart out. ‘hitoshi shinsou you will pay for doing me dirty like this.’

kendo forced you to stay home and rest, you were stressed and not in the head space to be at school right now. it was now lunch and kendo was livid, and was stomping down the corridor to give a piece of your mind to the jerk that broke your heart. “shinsou, i got a bone to pick with you.” she yelled at the purple haired boy, ‘finally i can see how y/n is doing’ he completely misread her words and saw them as an invitation to act buddy buddy with her so he jogged over. however he was not expecting a fist to the face, “you undeniable monster! do you know what you did to her?! you gave her false hope and you have the audacity to think that you can get anything about how she is right now?” her words truly leaked poison and showed she was not playing around, he had hurt you, and he needed to repent. “you think your pathetic superiority complex is something to sneeze at and turn a blind eye to? you think that just because you can play with peoples emotions you’re better than everyone else? well here’s what i think.” groups of people were surrounding everyone and were listening to kendo’s rant, shinsou’s heart dropped, he knew what this meant, he had hurt you. with each sentence the gap between the two got smaller until she got into his face and continued.

“it is disgusting how you can switch your act to lower other people’s guard and once they do so they are underneath your discrepancy and you crush them with no mercy,” flashes of you trying to talk to the guy you liked were flashing into keno’s head, she watched as he broke you down until you were pieces and now she was there for you as you were hopelessly trying to pick them up. a breath broke her flow of thoughts and brought her a second of peace. “stay away from my best friend.” and thats when the world stopped for shinsou, he did all of this to protect himself, he was scared cause there was a chance you could’ve liked him back but he ignored that and hurt you instead. “i’m sorry..” was all that he could say at this point. he couldn’t express anything right now, he was malfunctioning. “it’s too late to say sorry.”

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haru-sen · 3 years ago

Text

IAL: Mandalorians 2

Thanks, 3-D Render Anon, with your adorable voodoo dolls. That was the serotonin I needed.

I should be working, but I’m posting this. The Mando’a phrases and cultural dishes are from Wookieepedia. I’ll post the actual translations in the fic, but I don’t have time right now.

You woke up in a tent, your entire body aching. You were tucked under some blankets, a bedroll under your head. Your sabers were still on your belt.

“Query: are you done yet?” HK-53 asked, from overhead. “Also, are you sure I can’t kill these Mandalorians?”

“I am going to track down that pacifist module and shove it right up your accessory port,” you muttered. “Just you wait-”

“Shock: Master, how could you threaten your loyal droid this way? When did Master get so cruel? I am very proud of you!”

Laughing, you held your head for a moment. “What happened?”

“Recollection: You collapsed. The blue-armored meatbag injected you with kolto, and carried you here. The black-armored meatbag kept his gun on me, and I made sure neither of them did strange things to your person while you were inconveniently indisposed. It has been a little over a standardized hour since you lost consciousness.”

You sat up slowly. The sun was still up. “Where are we?”

“The witch is alive.”

You blinked, the black-armored Mandalorian standing in front of you. He was not wearing his helmet. Tall, with dark skin and clawmark scars across his cheeks, he loomed over you. He was well-groomed, his beard neatly trimmed, his black hair was immaculately styled. How did he not have helmet hair?

Blue scrambled over, also with his helmet off, also younger than you expected. He was blonde, hair gelled and styled. What the hell? Did Mandalorians discover the secret to preventing helmet hair? He smiled at you, with eyes as blue as his armor, his cheeks flushed. “You’re recovering much faster than I expected. How are you feeling?”

“Like I drank Delta Squad under the table again…” You said, rubbing your forehead. You had overdone it back there. Between the terentatek corruption, the Ataru form, and the subsequent wounds, you had pushed yourself too hard too quickly.

“Jedi drink?” Blue raised a brow.

“No, we just absorb dew through our pores,” you scowled.

“This Jedi witch is about to get dunked in a lake if she keeps giving me that attitude,” Skull said coolly.

“Well, I am thirsty,” you said.

To your surprise, Blue offered his canteen, looked thoughtful for a moment, took a drink, and then offered it again. “It’s not poisoned.”

“Disgust: Not poisoned, but definitely contaminated,” HK-53 said.

You hesitantly accepted the canteen, drinking down some of the metallic-tasting water. “Thanks.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “What do I call you?”

“Reaper,” Skull said. “76.” He pointed at Blue. “You?”

“Strike,” you said, climbing to your feet. The world wobbled, but did not tilt too far on its axis. You looked around. This encampment was small, but there was a cold firepit and vehicle tracks. They had not set this up in a couple hours. They had been in this area for awhile.

“Strike,” Reaper said, expression grim. “I think we need to talk.”

“No, I need to get to Nar Shaddaa,” you said.

The men looked at each other. “So do we.”

“That’s what we need to talk about,” 76 said, crossing his arms.

You stood there for a moment, a little intuitive nudge already sending your thoughts into overdrive. This was about to get even more complicated. “Because you really like casinos? Right?” You asked, with a sigh.

“Because we need to get one of those kids back,” Reaper said.

“...Of course, you do,” you said, staring up at the sky. You were glad someone had survived to hire mercs to rescue their kid. And you didn’t really care if the child chose to avoid training on Tython. But you did not need battle-happy Mandalorians ruining your operation. “Which one?”

“Xenya Itera, human female.” Reaper held out a holo of a little girl with a tiny spherical droid floating over her outstretched hands. She was dark skinned, her hair in several long tiny braids. She was smiling. “You can rescue the others, but we are obligated to retrieve her.”

“And if she doesn’t want to go with you?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Then she doesn’t have to,” Reaper said with a shrug, surprisingly unbothered by the question.

“Your bounty?”

“Not your problem,” Reaper said coolly. “We just need to get the kid away from the Cartels. Simple enough. Easier too if we go after them together.”

...Two sensible, non-volatile suggestions from Mandalorian mercs in one day? Was the world coming to an end? ...Or was it a trap? There was a long history of bad blood between Jedi and the Mandalorian clans.

“What clan?” You asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Reaper said.

“What clan are you?”

The men looked at you for a moment, like they hadn’t expected that question. “Clan Ordo.”

You nodded. You didn’t have any standing grudges with Clan Ordo. Hell, you hadn’t really ever dealt with them. But they weren’t Clan Lok, Rook, Varad, or Viszla, so you were probably good for the moment. “I can work with that.”

“You should be fine with Ordo,” Rogun said, over the comm-link. “They were one of the clans that backed the Crusader’s Schism, several years back – wanted to side with the Republic instead of the Empire. Whole thing got crushed by Mandalore the Vindicated, and Ordo was eventually welcomed back into the fold, with honor. So they likely don’t have the grudge that Lok and Viszla do. I can’t speak for the individuals though.”

“Good to know,” you said, sitting cross legged in the tent. “And Talon?”

“...I guess you’re right, Strike. There are no coincidences. He’s been spotted on Nar Shaddaa, near the slave markets with an entourage.” An entourage? Did that mean…? Rogun gave a rough laugh. “The Force moves in mysterious ways.”

“No, the Force is a mean bitch with an axe to grind, usually in my face,” you scowled.

Rogun guffawed, the lethorns on the side of his head shaking. “You’re never going to make Master with that kind of talk.”

You rolled your eyes upward, like that was the only thing keeping you from obtaining the rank of Master. Ha! “Just so you know, I got quizzed by the Council on our association.”

“I’m sure you said nice things about me,” he said, his grin mean.

“I said, your sandwiches suck.”

Rogun scowled back at you. “It was the best I could do during an active bombardment!”

You knew adult Chagrians often lost their sense of taste due to environmental factors, and maybe that was the reason the food had been awful, but it was rude to point that part out. “Yeah, well, I talked you up a little too. Made sure they knew that despite your questionable occupation, you’re a friend of the Republic.”

“Great, so when they come knocking at my door for favors or charitable handouts, I know who to blame.”

“Just give them one of those sandwiches, that’ll send them on their way.”

Rogun squinted at you. “It’s a good thing you’re useful, Strike.”

You laughed. “Thanks, Rogun. Keep me updated on Lord Talon’s movements. I’ll make you a delicious sandwich in gratitude.”

“Go kiss a sarlaac,” he scowled, and hung up.

“You certainly have a way with people,” Reaper said, hovering by the entrance.

You had not noticed his approach. How much had he heard? “That’s me, making friends wherever I go,” you said with a shrug.

Reaper gave a low chuckle. “You and that mouthy droid.”

You glanced around, realizing HK-53 had not been over your shoulder for your conversation with Rogun. You got up, a little concerned.

“Relax, he’s shooting bogstalkers with 76. They were attacking the comms equipment. I’ve already updated my people. I’m going to finish breaking down the camp, and then we can go.”

You started to disassemble the tent, watching as HK and 76 sniped at the leathery reptilians that fluttered in the sky.

“What are you flying?” Reaper asked, packing several weapons into crates.

“The usual – Rendili Defender-class light corvette. It’ll get us where we need to go.”

“And you think your credentials will be enough to get us through Olaris?” He asked, because the Republic-held city wasn’t too friendly toward Mandalorians.

“I can, but it might be easier if you leave off the helmets. I know that’s culturally insensitive, but we’ll move faster if I don’t have to pull rank on a bunch of terrified soldiers and customs agents,” You shrugged, bundling the tent tightly.

“Sensible,” was all Reaper said.

“So what’s it like, traveling with a Jedi Knight?” 76 asked, lowering his rifle.

“Declaration: That is a broad question, meatbag. Be more specific,” HK-53 said, rifle aimed at a ferrazid hound, the mutated creature already tearing apart a broke receiver.

76 laughed. “Do you get in a lot of fights?”

“Bragging: We get in so many fights. The number of people who want to kill Master is very high. And it doesn’t seem to get lower, despite how many people we do kill. If I wasn’t so busy killing her enemies, I would want to fight her one day.” HK-53 paused, its head twitching.

76 frowned. “Why does she attract such enmity? Just who are you killing?”

“Aggravation: Master has killed many things, usually enemies of the Republic, but she has also made many rules about what I am not allowed to kill. It is unnecessarily complicated. For example, Master generally prefers to let the enemy make the first move of aggression, to ensure that it is adhering to her archaic rules of “moral” combat. Sometimes she even talks people out of fighting her. Can you believe it? She knows they’re her enemies and she lets them walk away! She should just kill them ahead of time, not spare them. What is she thinking?” HK-53 gunned down the mutated hound-beast. “But Master is a Jedi, and Jedi have to follow silly rules,” the droid muttered petulantly.

“How did a...violent murder-happy droid like yourself end up with a Jedi then?” 76 asked.

HK-53 tilted its head, giving 76 a very skeptical look. “Suspicion: Such flattery. Why are you asking so many questions, meatbag?”

“I’m just curious about the people I’m traveling with,” 76 said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not every day I meet a Jedi Knight or such an...enthusiastic battle droid. It leaves an impression. There’s a story there.”

HK-53 stared at him, those eyes glowing. “Satisfaction: We are impressive. You don’t need to know more.” Turning back to the swamps, HK-53 surveyed the area. “Observation: Oh, it looks like Master and the other meatbag want us to return.”

76 just laughed awkwardly.

“Concern: Master, that meatbag was asking a lot of questions about us.” HK-53 was secured to speeder on the seat behind you. The Mandalorians were on the other. You were technically using their equipment, but you didn’t exactly trust a bunch of battle-happy maniacs in the driver’s seat. That included your droid.

You zoomed over marshlands and fields, the Mandalorians riding parallel to you.

“What kind of questions?”

To your surprise, HK-53 just replayed the recording of the conversation. Normally, he was all too happy to summarize an interaction, and intersperse his own commentary, but he let it play out without interruption.

“Query: There is subtext that I do not understand, Master. Is he probing for weakness? What angle is he coming from? What does he hope to learn?”

You sighed. “It could be socially-motivated, but I’m sure he’s also trying to gather intel. People often let a lot of things slip in friendly conversation.”

“Query: What did he let slip?”

“Not a lot,” you said, thoughtfully. “But he’s trying to be diplomatic, and he seems to have a personal interest in Jedi.”

“Query: How can you tell?”

“The enthusiasm,” you said. “He’s not just asking for intelligence purposes. He’s interested in the topic, and he wants to make a good impression on you. I’m not exactly sure why – Mandalorian mercs aren’t really known for their diplomatic skills, but I think if we talk to him more, we’ll figure it out.”

“Statement: These Mandalorians are not what I expected. Normally, we just fight them, and it’s a little difficult, but it’s done. This change in behavior is...disconcerting.”

“Yeah, I know. Nothing about this mission is what we expected,” you muttered.

“Clean, sturdy, and fast,” Reaper said, looking over your ship. “Not bad.”

“Spacious,” 76 said, with a nod.

Given the fact that it was just you and HK-53, the ship was almost too big. “You guys can make yourselves comfortable in the crew quarters,” you said, gesturing to the rooms. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to make some calls before we reach Nar Shaddaa.”

But first you needed to change into an intact top, and check your wounds. Your robe was ruined, and there were three parallel gashes across your low back. They nearly spanned the entire width of your back, and were each a couple inches wide, and thankfully not too deep. But they would take a while to heal. 76 was right, you would scar. Your healing skills just weren’t up good enough. Still.

The auto-navigation was engaged, cockpit locked. You wouldn’t have to take the helm till you reached Nar Shaddaa. You didn’t exactly trust the Mandalorians on your ship, but you could feel them settling down, sharing one of the two sleeping rooms - there were multiple berths on your ship, but they holed up in one together. And they were behaving. To your surprise, when you reached Olaris, the Mandalorians had tucked their helmets into their bags, and quietly followed you through the spaceport. HK-53 attracted more attention with his running commentary, but boarding had gone smoothly.

You put HK-53 outside the comm room and shut the door.

You first called Master Amari, to give her the update for the Council. Yes, you were going to Nar Shaddaa. Also, Orgo the Hutt had a terentatek and had tried to feed you to it. You did not have time to finish the beast – but you would return to take care of it, after you rescued the children. You had picked up some Mandalorians – they were also tracking one of the children and on their best behavior.

Master Amari had been interested to learn they were Clan Ordo, but seemed satisfied with your progress. You did not mention Lord Talon.

The next call was less staid.

“A terentatek, Theron,” you snarled. “How did you manage to leave out that detail?”

“I don’t keep an inventory of every crime lord’s dungeon!”

“It’s a goddamn terentatek, not a monkey lizard! How did he even get one?”

“Did you try asking him?” The spy asked snidely. He lounged on the comm unit, looking nothing like the sickly boy you’d met on Haashimut. “I was too busy trying not to die!”

“Sounds like a “you problem,” he shrugged. “And stop whining, you didn’t die.” He grinned at you.

“No, thanks to you!”

“You didn’t invite me. You could still invite me,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes bright and too eager.

“Pfft, since when did you care about a dozen potential padawans?” You asked, even though you knew the answer, just like you knew why you had not invited Theron along. It would get too complicated for a variety of reasons. “This is barely even Jedi business. It’s a criminal venture that happens to have Imperial ties – not really relevant to the SIS or your career.”

“...I heard you saw the Grandmaster,” he said, suddenly subdued.

And that was exactly why you had not invited him. Theron was a shady son of a bitch on the best of days. That said “bitch” happened to be Grandmaster Satele Shan was just another level of complicated. There were so many reasons the situation was screwed: she had given him up immediately, his father was “unknown,” and he didn’t have enough force sensitivity to blow out a candle. His solution? He’d gotten some kind of high end cybernetic implant and gone off to play spymaster for the Republic, instead of working through his feelings.

But there was always an underlying layer of bitter regrets that accompanied his dealings with the Jedi Order.

“Yes, she looks healthy,” you said, playing it off like it was not a big deal. “It was going to be a disciplinary hearing, but that changed, because I’m just a pawn in some greater philosophical argument. Or maybe because they needed me to do a job,” you scowled. “I still annoy her, don’t worry.”

“Wanna wager which one of us is the greater disappointment?” Theron asked, his smile deceptively cheerful. You knew better than to answer that question. “Just kidding, Strike. It’s obviously you.” He made finger guns. “She hasn’t given me a second thought.”

You shrugged, pretending like you didn’t hear the open wound in that statement. “I doubt it’s anything so important. I just get a lot of lectures from the Council. You can probably guess what they think about strong emotion and any activity that isn’t meditating in front of a fountain.” You paused. “Look, do you want to be there when I report back to them? Like as an SIS adjutant or something?”

Theron let out a harsh laugh. “Are you trying to get kicked out, Strike? You show up to a High Council meeting with the Grandmaster’s bastard offspring in tow? How’s that going to look?”

“...You’re the one asking to come along,” you scowled. “Make up your own mind, Theron. I don’t offer to drag you into stupid Order business, you complain. I do offer to bring you into stupid Order business, after you ask, and you decline and point out why it’s a dumb idea. This is why you don’t have friends.”

“You’re one to talk, unable to make real connections because the Order stunted you for the first half of your life. Now here you are, running around with that psychotic defective HK unit, like it will replace what you lost on Corellia, chasing after Lord Talon like he’s the one you’re mad at, instead of-”

The world narrowed to a single point. Red light flashed across your field of vision.

“You need to stop talking,” you said, your voice going cold.

Theron blinked, his eyes widening. “...Druk. Strike, I didn’t mean-”

You cut the connection, the room blurring around you for a moment. It took a couple seconds for your vision to adjust. To realize how angry you were. Sure, Theron was an asshole, but he’d only peeled back the scab on a still-festering wound. You tilted your head back.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold. Repeat till the darkness recedes.

Gradually, your control steadied. But you sat with that cloud of anger, not letting it go, nor letting it take ascendance. It was there, a pulsing reminder of your humanity.

You were going to kill Lord Talon and maybe his apprentice. Not because you hated him, though you did. Not because it was the right thing to do, though it was. You were going to kill him for personal reasons, and unlike the rest of the Order, you were not going to lie to yourself about it. And if that brought you down, if that decision made you fall, well, you were prepared. You had taken the appropriate precautions. There would be no Sith Lord Strike.

There was a ping as you received an incoming message. It was from Theron. It was only five words.

I’m an ass. I’m sorry.

You shook your head, not ready to respond just yet, and left the comm room.

“Is that the best you can do?” 76 laughed, and then there was whumpf, before you heard a body hit the floor.

You peeked into the bunks, to see the Mandalorians stripped down to their shorts, wrestling on the ground. Both men were muscular, with noticeable scars from blasters, vibroblades, and even some teeth and clawmarks. But the tattoos were interesting… Reaper had a full left sleeve, and 76 had some very colorful creatures etched on his back. Was that a varactyl?

“See something you like?” 76 asked, glancing over at you.

Reaper looked up at you, narrowing his eyes. “Or are we being too loud?”

“I wasn’t sure what was going on, just making sure it wasn’t a murder,” you said. “Carry on then.” You abruptly turned around, shoulders taut. You would not stare. And you certainly would not get caught staring.

“Hey, you seem kind of stressed. Do you want to spar or something?” 76 asked.

“That’s not a good idea right now,” you said, tensing.

“Why, because you’re still weak from getting your ass handed to you by a Sithspawn freak?” Reaper asked, casually. “Don’t worry, witch. I’ll go easy on you, if you ask me nicely.” His grin was savage.

You turned back to face him, feeling the anger pour off you in waves. “...Mandalorian, do you need someone to humble you that badly?” You asked, your voice low and harsh.

Reaper laughed. “You don’t scare me, witch. Choose your weapons. And if you need to hide behind your fancy light swords-”

“Practice blades will do,” you said. “Come on then.”

Reaper squinted at you.

“You don’t think I’m going to tear up this room, do you? The sparring mats are on the lower decks,” you said, already heading down.

You picked up two blades off the rack, choosing a full blade and a half-length blade. The cargo hold was equipped for exercise, as you did not normally transport a lot of goods. You stretched, ignoring the whispered conversation between the Mandalorians.

“Oh good, the medbay is across the hall-” 76 said.

“Whose side are you on?” Reaper growled.

“You’re out of armor, cyar’ika,” 76 murmured. “She’s a Jedi. The outcome is obvious.”

“Hut’uun,” Reaper spat. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“Don’t be salty because I’m telling the truth, mir’osik.” 76 laughed.

Maybe you should have called HK down here. He could have translated the Mando’a for you. Except he’d be calling for real bloodsport instead of just sparring. And you didn’t need that temptation right now.

You took a few practice swings, reviewing your forms. Niman would be the most sensible. This was just a sparring match. It was an all-around style, and Reaper had a lot more muscle mass than you did. You did not need to go all out. You swung the longer blade, feeling the air part in front of you.

Reaper glowered at 76, then stalked over to the weapon rack.

“Don’t worry, Mandalorian,” you said, your mouth curving in a mockery of a smile. “I won’t use my witchcraft to beat you. I’ll do it with my own two hands.”

“You don’t sound much like a Jedi right now,” Reaper said as he stepped on the mat, holding a single vibrosword.

“What do I sound like then?” You asked, as you began to circle each other.

“A real soldier,” Reaper said. “Which is impossible, because everyone knows that the Jedi like to hide in their fancy temples praying for peace, while their soldiers die.”

You just smiled, the insult gliding right by your ear. You had made that argument too many times to be offended by it. Especially when it was from a Mandalorian braggart trying to get under your skin. But it said everything that this was how an outsider viewed your order.

You spun your swords, the heavier one in your dominant hand, feeling just right. The anger boiling under your skin seemed to evaporate. It was just energy now, ready to power you through another fight. Your mind slid back into its seat of balance.

Reaper charged you, lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air in a horizontal arc. You sidestepped, ninety degrees to the right, just out of his reach. And while his blade was extended, you slipped around his guard, and dragged your short sword across his back, a thin line of blood appearing seconds later.

He whirled, swinging the sword at you. You parried with your left hand, and glided forward, under his guard, so close you couldn’t swing your other blade. Instead, you grinned up at him, and rammed the hilt into his stomach.

Coughing, Reaper doubled over, glared at you, and then his leg snapped up. You slid backward, but a half-second to slow. He kicked you in the chest, and you had to catch yourself in a spin. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

He charged you again, blade raised overhead.

You instinctively raised your swords to parry, catching his blade between both of yours. You twisted, and the vibrosword flew out of his hands, and landed on the floor of the cargohold with a clatter.

“Do you yield?” You asked, spinning your swords. “Or would you like a moment to go retrieve your weapon, Mandalorian? That’s fine. I’ll wait.” You grinned. “Because I can do this all night long.”

Reaper stared at you, eyes dark, nostrils flared. He was bleeding, breathing hard, and sweat glistened on his velvety skin, but he didn’t look like he was done.

“Maybe you’d like to try both of us then?” 76 asked, his eyes narrowed. He picked up Reaper’s sword and then a stave for himself. He placed the sword in Reaper’s outstretched hand, and took up a stance beside his comrade. “Tion'ad hukaat'kama?”

You tilted your head back, moving your head from side to side. 76 held the staff like he knew how to use it. You closed your eyes, feeling the currents of the force flow through you, a picture of the field forming in your head. They stood side by side, but they would attempt to box you in. They both had excellent range, but 76 would have the advantage of reach. You could see the range and motion of their attacks before they made them, and while it would be difficult, you were good at this. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

76 lunged first, sweeping the staff at knee-height.

You leapt over the attack, even as Reaper slid to your right swung the vibrosword in a downward arc. Elbow bent, wrist pressed to your head, you blocked the strike.

76 struck again, thrusting the staff like a polearm.

You jumped backward out of his range, disengaging from Reaper’s sword lock. You spun around toward Reaper, blades outstretched.

76 swung the staff around, blocking the area across Reaper’s torso.

You struck the staff with a clang, and had to swing your right blade to block Reaper’s counterattack. You disengaged again, dancing to the side, putting Reaper between you and 76. He tried to swing his sword, but you parried the blow again, and whipped your other blade across his cheek with a little flourish.

The skin split and instead of countering, he stared at you, with an intensity that made you hesitate.

From behind Reaper, 76 thrust again, striking you in the side with the staff. You hissed, and kicked Reaper backward into 76. The blonde man steadied his friend, and together they stayed on their feet.

You touched your side, knowing that the area would need extra healing later. But it wasn’t enough to bring you down now. Breathing hard, you took a deep breath and whirled toward them, blades spinning in your hands.

Still leaning on 76, Reaper didn’t have a chance to take a strong defensive stance. You caught his vibrosword between yours, and scissored them, sending his weapon flying once more. You couldn’t quite kick him aside, so you circled around to 76. You got close, too close for him to use the staff properly. He could block your blows, but he didn’t have the space to maneuver. Your blades slid off the staff, but still scraped against his chest, slicing a long gash through the pink skin, the tip of the short sword catching on a gold ring.

“Haar'chak!” He yowled.

“Ke'pare!” Reaper shouted. “Wait!”

You froze, having not noticed the little gold rings on his nipples. “Disengaging,” you said, dropping your vibrosword, and very carefully freeing the short blade from the piercing. “Why the hell would you leave those in for a sparring match?” You asked, backing up.

Wincing, 76 held a hand over the right nipple ring. “I...forgot,” he mumbled.

“Showoff,” Reaper said, shaking his head.

“I’ll get the kolto,” you sighed, setting the blades back in the rack, before you went across the hall to the medbay. You grabbed the first aid kit and headed back.

76 sat in the middle of the mats, rubbing his chest sheepishly. Reaper sat next to him, shaking his head.

“Hold still,” you said, crouching down in front of him to examine the cuts on his chest. You cleaned the wounds with a sanitizing wipe and then applied a layer of kolto over the cuts. You glanced at the nipple. It was pink and a lot more swollen than the other one, but still intact. You hadn’t torn the piercing or cut anything off. It wasn't even bleeding. Squeezing a little more kolto onto your thumb, you rubbed it lightly against his nipple.

76 stiffened, inhaling sharply as you put the healing gel on him. He was breathing hard now, chest and face flushed from the exertion. He watched you with hooded eyes, teeth clenched. “Do you patch up all your conquests?”

“No, normally there isn’t enough left to fix,” you said, meeting his gaze.

He studied your face for a moment. You could feel the heat pouring off him. He leaned closer. “So I’m one of the lucky ones?”

“Very, you almost lost that piercing and more.” You said, your mouth suddenly dry.

“It’s still sore, maybe you could put some more kolto on it,” he purred, a very knowing smile on his face.

“No, I think you deserve to suffer a little for your stupidity,” you said, backing up. You glanced at Reaper. “Do you need kolto?”

“Go on then,” Reaper said coolly, sitting up straight.

You crouched back down in front of Reaper, keeping him partially between you and 76. You worked quickly, your fingers lightly tracing the scar on his face. He watched you sullenly, as you quickly applied the gel. And then he turned around, silently giving you his back. His skin was hot under your fingertips, and you tried to seal the wound quickly, very conscious of 76’s hungry gaze. You slapped a bandage on it, and he turned back around, plucking the kolto out of your hands.

“Let’s see those ribs,” Reaper told you calmly. “76 hit you pretty hard.”

“I can take care of it myself,” you said.

“No one’s going to pounce on you,” Reaper said. “And even if they did, you could handle them.” He did not look at 76. “Now don’t be stubborn and try going up that ladder with your ribs cracked. That’s just foolish.” There wasn’t any of the previous malice in his voice, just a gentle chiding that reminded you a little of Master Amari.

Sighing, you unfastened your sash, and peeled back your robes, wincing as you touched your left side.

His head tilted to the side, Reaper applied the healing gel to your bare skin, his warm hands gently massaging it into your left side. You bit your lip, placing a hand near there as you tried to convince the bones to knit back together correctly.

Between the kolto and the little bit of force healing you could manage, the pain began to subside.

“Better?” Reaper asked, his palm still pressed to your side, close to your hand.

“Yes,” you said, swallowing roughly. “I should be good.”

Reaper bowed his head. “You won, Jedi. I am...humbled by your prowess.” He nodded to you, giving you a slight smile. “But I would like to try against you again later. Perhaps barehanded next time.”

You remembered seeing them rolling around on the ground, wrestling. Your breath caught. “You’re welcome to use the sparring mats,” you said, pulling away, closing your robes and tying off your sash. “But I need to go meditate.”

“Will you join us later?” Reaper asked.

“...We’ll see,” you said, glancing at 76, who lounged on his side, one hand cupping his sore pectoral.

76 winked at you. “Feel better?”

You blinked, having already forgotten why you’d agreed to spar in the first place. “Yes, thank you, but I really need to go meditate.”

“I can think of some other things that would help you out,” 76 said, looking you up and down with a smile.

“I really should go,” you said, already halfway out the door.

“I need to go meditate?” Really? That was your best excuse? It worked, but still…

Grumbling you, shut yourself in your quarters, limping to the fresher for a shower. It was quick, and you changed into another clean robe – today had been hard on clothes – and then settled on your floor cushion, still feeling the force run through you.

You did not contemplate the temple fountains, nor the forests of Tython, nor any Jedi object. You stared out the window, into the void of space, the stars twinkling in the distance. You fully expected flashes of red light, or even that dark haze that settled over your mind when you really got to thinking about the past.

But the force continued to move through you in strong currents. It was like sitting up to your shoulders in a warm ocean. The world took on a soft gray glow, and you let yourself drift.

It was the most peaceful you had felt since Corellia.

“Knight Strike, are you occupied?” 76 asked over the intercom.

You opened one eye, focus settling back into your body. “Do you need something?”

“We took the liberty of making a meal, and thought you might be hungry,” he said.

You blinked. “Oh, I’ll be down in a minute.” The offer took you by surprise. HK-53 had said nothing about them moving around the ship. You rose, tightening your robe, and left your quarters.

A warm savory scent hit you as you opened the door. The entire deck smelled of rich spices and sauteed aromatics. It was coming from the conference room – the one you used as a makeshift dining room back when… Back when there had been more people on your ship.

The Mandalorians were inside and had set up hotplates and a kettle on the table. Reaper was back in his polished black armor, sans helmet, stirring a pot. He did not look up when you came in. He just lifted a battered spoon to his lips and tasted the stew or maybe it was a casserole? If so, it was heavily sauced.

76 stood over his own battered iron skillet, an amber colored cake within. He cautiously poured some syrup over the cake. Then he cracked open a bottle and poured an even more generous amount of dark liquor over it. “It’s almost done!”

“If you want to cook, I have a small kitchen setup in my quarters-” You paused, realizing that maybe you did not want them traipsing in and out of your bedroom.

“Oh? Really? I would like to see that,” Reaper said, looking up and smiling at you, heat in his gaze. He lifted the spoon from the pot, offering you a taste of the bright orange stew. It had chunks of mystery meat, vegetables, and what looked like beans. It smelled like fire, smoke, and peppers, clearing whatever spacedust might have been clogging your sinuses. You hesitantly took a bite. It was savory and hot. The layers of earthy and smoky spices blended well together and even though you were still chewing, you wanted another bite almost immediately.

Even if you had never tasted this dish before, there was something immediately comforting about it. The meat was smoked. The vegetables had likely been dried and reconstituted in the sauce. The “beans” were actually some kind of grains, soft and fluffy with just the right amount of chewiness. “That’s very good,” you said. “What is it?”

“Tiingilar,” Reaper said, watching your face. “It doesn’t burn too much, I hope.”

“The seasoning is excellent. I’m very fond of peppers,” you said, raising a brow. Was he hoping that it was too much for you? That seemed a possibility. You had beaten him in combat, so he was going to compete with you in other ways. Still, if it meant that he cooked a nice dinner, you wouldn’t take too much offense.

Reaper just smiled at you. “You are full of surprises. The last non-Mandalorian I fed this to accused me of poisoning her. It was...too hot for her delicate mouth.”

“She wasn’t as well-traveled as Knight Strike,” 76 said, flipping his skillet and dumping the cake onto a battered metal plate. “Uj'alayi. It’s a traditional dessert,” he told you, pulling out a combat knife and slicing it into six pieces. “It can be made in our helmets. Reaper insisted that I use a pan this time.” He winked. “But I think the helmet adds to the flavor.”

“Interesting,” you said, glancing at Reaper, who just chuckled. “Should I get-”

“No need! We have tiingilar, uj’alayi, and behot tea. Plenty of food to go around,” 76 said proudly. He paused, gesturing to the table.

“And I have a few extra bottles of kri’gee and narcolethe, if you’re interested,” Reaper said, a little too innocently. “Now I think he is trying to poison me,” you said, because you weren’t an idiot. Those liquors were very potent.

“I have some extra ne’tra gal,” 76 said, gesturing to the bottle he had. “It’s a much nicer ale.”

“It would go well with the uj’alayi,” Reaper said, setting a bowl of his spicy stew in front of you. He poured you a mug of tea. Then he began doling out portions for himself and 76.

76 put a slice of cake in front of you, along with the open bottle of ne’tra gal.

You took a sip of the sticky sweet ale. It was more potent than you were expecting, but it was Mandalorian alcohol. You then took a small bite of the dense cake. It was rich and sticky, filled with dried fruit, nuts, and some kind of sweet syrup. The syrup had carmelized a little on the outside of the cake, but the inside was almost too sweet, except for the ale that soaked in. You washed it down with more of the ale.

76 watched you eagerly. “What do you think?”

“It’s rich,” you said. “But the ne’tra gal does go well with it.”

“It was originally army rations – lots of calories for a march,” Reaper said. “We thought you might enjoy some traditional Mandalorian food.”

“That was very kind,” you said. “It’s delicious.”

“Do Jedi have tasty traditional food?” 76 asked.

You sat with that for a moment. “...It’s actually kind of bland,” you sighed. “Nutritious, but not fancy. They don’t want us to be “distracted” by such things.” Back in the day, Theron had smuggled you candies, snack foods, and even alcohol. You felt a twinge of annoyance. Back in the day, Theron hadn’t been such an asshole. “I like trying new things though. I had to sneak around in Coruscant – make it look like I was only stopping because I needed “sustenance.” Not because the food stall smelled delicious.”

“We are not encouraged to be easily distracted by food,” Reaper said with a frown. “But there is no harm in enjoying it.”

“...Jedi aren’t supposed to “enjoy” things,” you muttered. “Well, they can, just not…too much.”

“What counts as “too much?” 76 asked, taking a big bite of cake.

You shrugged. “That’s a philosopher’s debate. But we’re meant to focus on denying most temptations. Want and attachment lead to other negative emotions, which lead to hate, which leads to the Dark Side. Let me summarize it for you: everything fun leads to the Dark Side.” You rolled your eyes and took another swig of ale. “Depending on who catches you, that lecture can go on for hours.”

“Enjoying cake leads to becoming a Sith Lord?” 76 chuckled. “I want to eat more. Will that get me my own lightsaber?”

You laughed.

“Your Order has a real fear of this Dark Side,” Reaper said, sipping his tea. “It seems a little convenient, like a method of control.”

“The fear is legitimate, but the safeguards are controversial.” You took another bite of his spicy stew. “It’s complicated.”

“So what happens when a Jedi goes to the Dark Side, becomes dar’jetii? Why is this so dreaded? I have met the dar’jetii of the Empire. Some are reasonable. Many are not. But they are not Jedi, and they are not so much more fearsome.” Reaper’s brows furrowed.

“We’ve fought dar’jetii,” 76 said, chest puffed out. “And we’ve won. Didn’t get to keep the lightsaber though. Captain got it.” He gave you a rueful smile.

“I assume dar’jetii means “Sith.” And that’s part of the problem.” You took another sip of tea, staring at the wall. “There are two different understandings of the terms. The political difference is that Jedi are force-sensitives who work for the Republic. Sith work for the Empire. It is an overly-simple explanation.” You held the mug between your hands, its warmth comforting.

“That is how we understand it,” Reaper said.

“Then you have the philosophical definitions. There are two sides to the Force, Light and Dark. The choices you make in life determine your alignment. There are Imperial Sith, who are fair-minded and compassionate. Even if they may not follow the Jedi Code, they are of the Light, though it would be unwise of them to advertise that.”

“And there are Jedi who are cruel and bloodthirsty, and they are of the Dark?” Reaper asked. “Your Order allows this?”

“No, they do not. In fact, they are dismissed from the Order, and sometimes they are imprisoned. Sometimes it is...worse.” You did not look at them.

“That seems like a tactical disadvantage,” 76 said.

“...It’s more than that.” You switched back to the ne’tra gal. “Sometimes singular choices can swing a Light-side Jedi to the opposite end of the spectrum. They go from honorable, kind, and patient to violent, cruel, and despotic in seconds. Falling is a sudden kind of madness. Often they turn on their friends and allies, killing the people they swore to protect. Sometimes they recover who they were and regret what was done. Sometimes they just become monsters.”

“What causes it? I haven’t heard of Sith having such experiences often.” Reaper asked. “Do they fear an inverse effect?”

You laughed, imagining that for a moment. “No, I guess I haven’t heard of a Sith suddenly being filled with an uncontrollable sense of altruism. At least, not to the same degree. They may switch sides or work to seek redemption, but these are conscious choices.”

“So what makes Jedi so much easier to influence?” 76 asked.

“Well, the Sith Code does encourage a certain amount of violence and backstabbing, but that’s the question, isn’t it? The Jedi Order thinks if we, as individuals, keep our distance from the world, do not get attached to others, and live like ascetics, we can avoid falling. If we just follow their rules, and live in our cloisters, we will be safe.” The bitterness of your words surprised you.

“Is there no middle ground?”

You took another bite of the stew. “That’s also complicated. Allegedly, there is.” You thought of the Gray Jedi. “But it is not an explanation accepted within our Order. I have witnessed people falling. It is...horrible to see someone you have known your entire life changing into the antithesis of themselves.”

“So if...attachment makes them fall, what brings them back? Do you appeal to their honor?” 76 asked.

“Maybe,” you said, because you would give a lot to find the answer to that question. “I think...reminding them what they found to be so important can help.” You thought of Nomen Karr. “But sometimes they are just in denial. They think they are infallible, they think that excuses whatever actions they take, and that accumulation of corruption combined with their own hubris destroys them.” You sighed.

“What causes this madness? The revelation of their own hypocrisies?” Reaper pressed.

“Force users are...vessels. The Force runs through us, it is like a constant stream of energy. That energy can manifest in different ways. Light Side users have certain powers, Dark Side users have others. And then there are some abilities that are so rare, it’s hard to say where they come from. Those are the extremely talented few: I have a friend who can heal broken minds. But I have no idea how to do such things. I am just a better-than-average fighter.” You smiled wryly. “But one of my teachers has a theory. Jedi spend so long keeping out the Dark, that sometimes, if we lower our guards, if we make an emotional choice toward the Dark, suddenly we have opened ourselves up to an outpouring from it. Some of us do not know how to cope and that system shock is too much too quickly, and then we swing to the opposite side.”

“So maybe you should do a few bad things, to keep your mind safe,” Reaper said with a shrug. “Easy enough.”

You laughed. “...maybe. Or maybe that slow acceptance of corruption just makes it easier to fall. That’s a high-risk theory for me to try to prove.”

“So what is an example of how a Jedi falls?” Reaper asked.

You sat there, knowing it wasn’t any of his business, and that you were drinking too much. But it was not a secret. And he wasn’t actually asking about your past. “Say you go into battle, and you really hate the person you are fighting. You have thought long and hard about how they need to die. You know that it is against everything that your Order has taught you, and you don’t care. They might want him as a useful prisoner, but even if he surrenders, you are going to kill him. Or perhaps, you are going to disobey orders – you will pursue him off the battlefield, even if it means leaving your comrades or charges behind. There are many ways. But I think it comes down to, you will look at your choices, you will know that what you choose is wrong, and you will do it anyway.”

Reaper snorted. “That doesn’t sound evil: foolish and undisciplined maybe. But killing certain enemies is sensible.”

“But if it throws off your sense of self…” 76 rubbed his chin.

“That is a problem we do not have to deal with,” Reaper said, brow furrowed. “Perhaps the cost of sorcery is too high. Or perhaps Jedi are weak-minded. Their strictures are too rigid; the conditions they set are unreasonable.”

“This fear of attachment and strong emotion,” 76 mused. “How are they as parents?”

“...Jedi are good caretakers, but not good parents. Because Jedi are not supposed to marry or have kids, so we usually recruit externally,” you said, trying not to think of Theron.

Both men blinked. “What?!”

“We’re warrior monks,” you muttered. “Or supposed to be. There are exceptions, but in general, marriage and other romantic attachments are not encouraged.”

76 and Reaper exchanged meaningful glances.

You could feel the judgment. You finished your ale, suddenly wishing for more.

“So no sex?” 76 asked, his eyes wide.

“...We’re not supposed to,” you said, looking at the table, suddenly embarrassed.

There was a long moment of silence.

“But you don’t always do what you’re supposed to, do you?” Reaper asked, his voice warm and amused.

You bit your lip. “That’s really not your business.”

Reaper gave a low laugh. “I didn’t think so.” He tilted his head to the side, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “There’s no shame in indulging or abstaining. But something tells me that you’re not the type to shrink away from a challenge.”

You crossed your arms, staring hard at him. Did he need another lesson in humility? “What are you trying to say, Reaper?”

“I’m saying, if you choose to indulge, we’re both interested,” he said plainly, and took another bite of his tiingilar. “And if you don’t, we respect that too.”

You nearly choked on air.

“But we’re a package deal,” 76 said, his expression uncharacteristically somber.

“...Wait, are you married?” You asked, because it was easier than processing what Reaper had just offered.

“Promised,” Reaper said, giving 76 an appreciative smile. “But this one has fought at my side for years, and that matters more than any words spoken.”

76’s cheeks burned pink. He gave Reaper a warm look. “Traditionally, we can just say the vows whenever: in person, over comlink, through letters, and it’s done. But our clan wants to be there to witness it and throw a big party, which isn’t exactly traditional – they usually can wait till afterward.”

“But certain clan-members are insisting that they should attend,” Reaper said.

“And if we didn’t make the allowance our sisters and the Captain would never forgive us,” 76 said with a sigh. “You don’t cross the Captain.”

“And our sisters are unreasonable and very good with their flamethrowers,” Reaper said.

“Oh,” you said, like it all made perfect sense. They were about to be married, but they wanted to invite you to their beds? How did that make any sense? You groped for words. “That’s lovely.”

“You could come too,” 76 said. “There will be plenty of food.”

“...Uh…” You blinked, not sure how to process the proposition, the wedding invitation, and the entire situation.

“76 and I take pride in performing well, be it fighting, cooking, or other recreational activities,” Reaper said smoothly. “If you’re concerned, we’d be happy to give a demonstration.” He leaned over, one arm around 76’s shoulder.

76 nodded happily. “You can think of it as exercise or stress relief.”

“Or you can just watch, if you like, we don’t mind,” Reaper purred, stroking 76’s hair. Those thick metal gauntlets tightened into a fist, pulling 76 closer. Reaper leaned over, pressing a hard kiss to 76’s neck.

The blonde man moaned.

But Reaper was watching you, those dark eyes glittering.

“...I should go meditate,” you said, abruptly standing up and retreating from the room.

#SWTOR #IAL #Crackfic #Reader-Insert #overwatch fanfiction #In Alio Loco AU #In Alio Loco

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

Kind Of A Cinderella Story (Sarah Cameron X Reader)

Request:37 from prompt list 2 with Sarah?+More Sara Cameron dating a Gardener pls

Warnings:This is trash and for some reason took me like three hours to write.Isnt proof read,implications of smut kind of.

Sarah was sick of her life.It was the same thing over and over again.She had to pretend to be this elegant,proper girl when all she wanted ot do was have fun.She felt like a puppet,being told what to wear and who to hang out with.She ahd been set up with countless kook boys that wanted nothing other than a girl to use as a sex object.She hated it.

Everyone thought that she was some perfect kook queen with no problems in her life but they couldnt be more wrong.People called her a whore for cheating on her boyfriends but all she wanted was to be loved.Like,genuinely loved for something other than her appearance.It was a process of trial and error.Ward would introduce her to one preppy kook boy with gelled back hair and toxic masculinity in a never ending cycle,hoping ot find the perfect fit.

Little did he know that she didnt want any kooks there was.She didnt even want any boys,no matter eif they were a pogue or a kook.Her heart was set on one pogue girl that didnt know how to match her pants to her shirt and had pierced her nose with a paperclip.She found her heart speeding up,trying not to smile or let out a nervous laugh whenever she saw said pogue even walk by.

You had always envied the kooks.While you worked at a bakery for 16 hours three days a week,living from pay check to pay check they were living it up in their huge mansions and getting their nails done with diamonds and gold.

You didnt even have a refrigerator or a microwave,you just kept what needed to be cold in a cooler that you had found on the side of the road two years ago.The bakery could only pay you so much so you decided that you might need another job.

It was either that or start stealing things.You chose the first option,unfortunately.Upon hearing that Ward Cameron was looking for someone to plant flowers and cut weeds in his garden you had volunteered for it.That’s what got you to this point,mud on your cheekbones,little scratches on your palms as you secured another bundle of impatiens into the soil.

The grass was still damp from the early morning rain,you were obviously tired and planning on going back to bed once you got back home.That was when the kook princess,Sarah Cameron,came running out of her house with a butter knife in her hand,demanding to know who you were and what you were doing in her backyard.You wiped your slightly bloody hands on your jeans,grinning.

“Im the gardener,Ward hired me last week.”You explained,smiling when a look of realisation came across the kook’s face,dropping the butter knife into the grass. “Oh-im so sorry!Im Sarah,they didnt tell me they hired you so I got scared.”She looked down at the butter knife,a blush coming across her cheeks.

After that first encounters she was desperate to speak to you again,having to wait a whole week until you came around to pull the weeds from the garden.She had considered stomping on the plants so you’d be forced to stay around longer but that would be pretty rude of her if she wanted to make a good impression.She had checked the weather,seeing that it was gonna be over 100 degrees.

That meant she had a perfect reason to speak to you without being strange.She’d come out after ten minutes of you being there and offer you a cold drink inside and when you were distracted with your drink she’d ask you questions about yourself and then boom.

You two would fall in love.It sounded like a great plan in her head.The night before the day you were due to come over she had set a blue gatorade in the fridge,preparing.But then she saw you out her window and became weak.Her legs were shaking as she took the gatorade out of the fridge,pacing around the kitchen with teh bottle in hand,taking in big breaths as she prepared herself.

With one last,deep breath she opened the back slider door,putting a smile on her face as she walked up behind you as you put long weeds into a bucket,your sleeves rolled up and sweat on your face. “Weather kind of sucks today,figured you needed a drink.”She licked her lips,wanting to redo.That just didnt sound right at all.You looked up at her,squinting from the sun that shined around her almost like a halo.

“Thanks,climate change is a real bitch.”You took the gatorade,opening it and taking a sip,some of the blue energy drink dripping down your chin. “Oh my god,I know.Don't even get me started on whats happening with the sharks in New England!The government is full of shit!”She exclaimed,not as nervous as she had been before.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah,just like our oceans!In twenty years there will be more plastic than fish,I hate this world so much.”You sighed,sitting in the grass as you took another sip of the cold drink. “Do you want to come inside and talk about this?We’ll both get sunburned if we stay out here too long.”her hands went to her pockets,something that always happened when she was anxious.

You shrugged,standing up. “Yeah,ok.”You replied,following her.You were hesitant to actually step inside the house,figuring one of the tiles was probably worth your whole paycheck.You sat awkwardly at the counter,drinking the gatorade until there was barely anything left.

She grabbed you a water bottle and offered you a sandwhicih.You said yes of course,thanking her when a ham and cheese sandwich on a blue plate was placed in front of you. “You know what else I hate?”You asked,taking a small bite off the corner of the sandwich.She hummed,looking up.

“How organizations protecting endangered species are being defunded by the government!It’s trash.”You sighed,becoming increasingly more angry.SHe nodded,agreeing. “Same with deforestation!If the government was taking away tv’s everyone would freak out but of course when they cut down our source of oxygen its fine!”She smacked her palms off the table.

“I say we poison them all with wolfsbane and give Mother Nature her shit back.”You wiped some mustard from your cheek,making her grin.Once you finished the sandwich you insisted on getting back to work,groaning when the sun hit your skin again.She had sat by the pool,telling you that you could go for a swim when you finished working if you wanted to.

You tugged dandelions from the garden,it was your last task of the day which meant that you got it done as quick as possible,placing them into the bucket when you got a good idea.You took them back out,forming the weeds into a crown of yellow,grinning at your creation before presenting it to Sarah. “Figured the queen needed a crown.”Was al you said,placing it on her head before flashing a peace sign and beginning your walk home.

Sarah waited another seven days to see you.The sun didnt shine so bright,her hair felt lifeless and her smile just couldnt look right.She felt herself falling for you,not even bothering to fight off the feelings.Tuesday night,the night before you would be coming over she prepped herself.She made a ham and cheese sandwich with mustard and lettuce,wrapping it up and putting it in her fridge along with a blue gatorade.

She practiced how to do a cute bun that she had seen on her pinterest feed,picking out an outfit that would make her look nice without being too over the top.She ended up showering at two in the morning,making sure she would smell nice and her hair wouldnt be greasy.She woke up with drool tunning down her chin,her alarm loud.She groaned,wiping her face and checking the time.

She had a text from her dad to let her know that he and Rose had taken Wheezie to the beach and Rafe was off doing whatever it was that Rafe does.She sat in her living room,staring out the window as she waited for you to appear and walk around her house into the backyard.She grinned when she saw you,light overalls and a rainbow striped shirt,deep tan work boots and a tired look on your face as you opened the gate in the fence,walking around to the backyard.

She let out a soft sigh as she wiped her hands on her shirt,making sure there were no wrinkles as she grabbed the sandwich from the fridge,tucking it under her arm and holding the gatorade in her hand,opening the slider door with the other.She closed it,the hot humid air hitting her in a huge contrast from the cold air conditioned house.

“Hey,Sar.”You grinned,noticing that there wasnt much work that need to be done today.She held out the wrapped up sandwich to you along with the drink,crossing her arms awkwardly. “Do you want to come inside?”She asked,peeling at her white nail polish.You licked your lips,standing up and brushing off your pants before picking up the gatorade and sandwich,sitting at the kitchen table and eating. “So like,can I ask you a question?”She asked,leaning her elbows on the table.

You raised an eyebrow at her,swallowing the sandwich that you had in your mouth with a swig of gatorade. “I hate when people ask that.Are you gonna ask if I murdered someone cause the answer is no.”You said quickly,trying not to let your brain run wild.

You hadnt done anything wrong.Maybe you fucked up the order fo the flowers? “Oh,oh cool.But um….Like,what would you do if I accidentally kissed you?”She asked,making your eyes widen.Her heart beat only got quicker as the monet of silence lasted longer,a tension growing between the two of you.

“I dont know...thats never happened before.”You answered,avoiding her eyes.She blushed,leaning down quick and pecking your lips,pulling away just as quick. “Love that.”You answered,biting your lip lightly,trying not to laugh.

“Love you.”She answered,her face beet red.You smiled,looking up at her. “Love you too.”You answered,hearing the door open a few seconds later,Wheezie walking in,her skin slightly more tanned than it had been when she left. “Uhh...hi?”She frowned,looking at you but deciding not to question it before going up the stairs and into her room.

Ward and Rose came in soon after her,the same look on their faces. “Arent you the gardener?”Rose asked,coming into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine. “She’s done with her work for the day.”Sarah answered quickly,looking over to Ward.

He didnt say anything,feeling that there was something going on between the two of you but deciding to stay quiet.You and Sarah had been dating in somewhat secrecy for a month and you no longer came over on just Wednesday’s to pull weeds.You came over pretty much everyday,going swimming or going to the beach with your lovely girlfriend.

You laid on your stomach on her bed,head on one of her many pillows,the show Lucifer playing on her large tv. “We should do something.”She spoke confidently,a mischevious grin on her face.You sighed,sitting up. “Like what?”You asked,knowing that she would probably suggest something ridiculous.

She smirked,grabbing her purse. “We’re gonna go shopping.”It wasnt even a question,just a straight out statement.You shook your head,going back to laying down when she grabbed at your ankles,trying to drag you off the bed. “Please?”She pouted,trying to get you to crack.

You simply rolled your eyes,reminding her that you didnt have the money for that type of thing.She sighed,grabbing your hands and pulling you up but you refused to go down without a fight,purposely pushing her backwards by wrapping your arms around her like a toddler.

“No.”You muttered,your nose in her blonde hair.You stared ahead of you,passing by trees and large houses,getting to the rich kook side of the island near the shopping boutiques and gold clubs. “I hate you.”You sighed as she pulled into a shop parking lot,a grin on her face. “I love you too.”She answered,opening the car door for you and making you get out.

“What if I buy you icecream after?”She asked,trying to get you to be less miserable,succeeding when your face lit up. “Like the fancy kind in a dipped waffle cone with the sprinkles?”You asked,willing to try on clothes if it meant getting to the sweet cold treat.

She nodded,complying with your request,holding your hand and bringing you inside.It didnt feel right for you to be here,even the lights looked expensive.There werent even carts,fabric bags instead.Thats how you could tell just how expensive everything here would be. “Sarah,this is ridiculous.”You mumbled as she dragged you over to some t shirts that had stripes but even they looked expensive,the material thick and durable between your fingers.

You gripped the price tag,eyes widening. “This shit is $130!”You exclaimed,letting go of it.She smiled,shaking her head. “Suck it up,buttercup.”Was all she had to say,finding your size and placing it into the fabric bag when a worker came up to the two of you. “Can I help you ladies?”He asked.You answered a wuick no but was overpowered by Sarah. “Yes,yes please.

Im thinking a whole new vibe for her,maybe like eighties meets surfing.”She tried to explain her ideas,somehow the sentence made sense in the man’s head as he guided the two of you through the store,showing you both sundresses,ripped jeans,pastel collared shirts,headbands and earrings.

He watched from a far as Sarah held up the clothing next to your body,holding others near your hair as she tried to decide on what she wanted you to try on.She decided a light yellow shirt,some light washed jeans,a pair of shorts that were dark blue with gold stars,a purple sweatshirt with the word ‘lovely’ on it,a set of cream colored underwear with a matching bra,a gold headband with flowers on it,a pair of boyfriend jeans,or as she called them,girlfriend jeans.

You didnt even give an opinion on any of the clothes she was putting into the bag,thinking about what kind of icecream you were going to get,snapping out of your thoughts when she told you to start trying things on.

She had requested that you took mirror pictures in everything you tried on and asked that you send them to her as she went to the jewelry counter,supposedly getting a spot on her gold necklace fixed.You took your time trying on clothes,trying not to become to insecure about it.

You took the photos quickly,plowing your way through the outfits,getting to the set of bra and panties.You slid on the underwear over the ones you were already wearing,seeing the sign on the dressing room wall that said not to try on undergarments on your bare body.You simply pulled on the bra over your breasts,not seeing a policy for that.

The fabric was soft and the bra held up your breasts perfectly,the cream colored lace straps tickling your skin.You snapped a few photos in the set,feeling a bit of heat rush to your face when the door opened,Sarah sticking her head in. “Are you checking yourself out?”She asked,a smirk on her face.You placed your hands over your face,laughing.

“Shut up.”You answered,letting her see what you looked like in the set.She did indeed shut up,biting her lip as she looked you up and down. “Yeah,we’re buying that.”She nodded,asking to see the photos and closing the door behind her.You scrolled through the photos,her head on your shoulder and kissing it lightly as she looked at them,nodding.

“Ooh that sweater is cute as hell.”She took the phone,zooming in. “So lets go look at some bathing suits and maybe get you some more bras...and then we can leave.”She grinned,gulping as she tried not to let her thoughts get the best of her.

You changed back into your normal paper thin striped shirt,shitty bra and overalls,putting the clothes back into the bag and walking back out,seeing her sitting in the chair with a grin on her face as if she knew something you didnt. “Look at how cute this bikini is!Your boobs would look good-we’re getting it.”She said quickly,putting a white one piece into the bag.

“Sarah-this is gonna cost like,a million dollars.”You grumbled,not really approving what your girlfriend was doing.She rolled her eyes,not worrying about it as she grabbed an ash colored bralette and underwear set,finally done picking clothes for you,dragging you to the counter to pay.You werent paying attention to anything the cashier was saying,only watching the total go up until it hit the point of $830.

What the actual fuck?Sarah simply swiped her card,taking the white and gold paper bag with a grin,pulling you along as you tried to get over the fact that she had just payed so much so carelessly.You two ended up back in the car,the bag in the backseat as you were still struggling to wrap your head around it.

“You okay?”She asked,noticing the look on your face. “You just spent an entire month of bills on clothes.”You whispered,making a smile come across her face. “That’s okay.”She answered,backing out of the parking lot and making her way to the icecream shop.

“Do you want to go to the beach to eat our icecream or do you want to go back to the house and model for me?”She asked,hoping you’d pick the second option.You shrugged,not really caring as long as you got your icecream. “yeah,you’re modeling for me.”She decided for you,turning on the radio. “Yeah?”You asked.

She hummed in response.The drive was quiet,your chin on your palm,the cool air of the air conditioning on your skin and the hot of the sun on your arm. “I feel like Cinderella right now.”You admitted,making the blonde laugh. “What do you mean by that?”She asked,curious.

You shrugged,turning down the radio. “I mean,you’re my beautiful fairy goddess and you just bought me some kook clothes and i’m used to cooking for people and pulling weed from rich people’s gardens...its like im becoming one of you.”You mumbled,her hand squeezing your thigh.

“You say it like we’re vampires, (Y/N).”She shook her head,pulling up to the icecream parlor,getting out of the car.You both walked up to the metal counter,looking at the menu.She got the same thing everytime.A medium cotton candy scoop in a chocolate sprinkled cone with whipped cream.

It was colorful and over the top,just like her.You decided on a rainbow milkshake which was layers of cotton candy icecream,strawberry,black raspberry,orange creamsicle and lemon all in one cup topped with whipped cream.

After getting your icecream you two went right back to the car,Sarah playing Lucifer on her phone and placing it between the two of you as she struggled to eat her icrecream quick enough so it wouldnt fall off or melt.She rested her icecream cone in the cupholder,driving back to the house,running up to her room with you close behind her,the white and gold bag tucked under her arm.

She ate the cone,getting to the end of it when she asked you to try on the bathing suit.You rolled your eyes,stripping of your overalls and t shirt,earning a quiet whistle from her.You sent her a quick wink,pulling the bathing suit up your body,pushing your arms through,your cleavage showing.

“Yeah,I was right.Your boobs look great.”She grinned,opening her drawers and picking out her pink bathing suit,changing into it right in front of you. “Lets go out to the pool.”She suggested,grabbing two towels from her drawer.The two of you sat in the cool water,the sun making it hard to look at. “I’ve got to get back to the house soon.”You mumbled,floating on your back.

She frowned,standing up in the shallow water. “Why?Cant you just sleep over?”She asked,not wanting you to go.You shook your head,figuring that it wouldnt be wise to spend another night. “I cant let the place get messy.”You answered,wringing out your hair.She pouted,understanding.

“You have to leave now?”She asked.You shrugged,sitting on the steps. “Probably soon,i’ve got to check the mail too.”You replied,stepping onto the hot concrete.She sighed,lifting herself out of the water and offering you a ride home.

You said yes,giving her a quick kiss before leaving the car,your backpack clinging to your shoulders,the store bag in hand. “I love you.”She grinned as you closed the car door. “Love you too,pretty girl.”You replied before going inside your small house.It was hot,dust on the counters and cabinets.

The coolers ice had melted,leaving cans of sprite to float in the water that was left.You sighed,going into your room and letting your backpack fall onto your mattress that stayed on the floor.You took the clothes from the store bag,putting them on hangers and letting them hang in your closet,far away from the one other pair of overalls you owned.You grinned at the splash of color in your dull home,ending up falling asleep on your stomach on top of your mattress,face in the blankets you had collected over the years.

Sarah looked in the mirror at her tube top that was covering a honey colored bralette that you liked so much,a pair of white jeans over matching yellow panties that you liked so much.

She tied her hair into a messy bun,letting out a soft sigh,grabbing her keys and getting ready to surprise you at your house.It had only been a few hours but she already missed you.She jogged down the stairs quick,close to leaving when Rose interferred.

“Where are you going?”She asked,looking at the outfit.Sarah cursed in her head,turning to look at her step mother. “Out.”She replied,not in the mood for her bullshit.Rose crossed her arms,a knowing smirk on her face. “Out where?”She pushed,acting like an annoying fifth grader.Sarah completely understood where Wheezie got it,Rose equally as annoying as the thirteen year old.

“Out on a date.”Sarah answered,glaring.Rose’s eyebrows furrowed,surprised. “Yeah?”She asked,raising an eyebrow.Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”She repeated,hand on the door knob. “With who?”Rose asked,really testing Sarah’s patience.

“With someone im interested in.”Sarah replied,venom dripping from her voice. “Hes got a job?”Rose asked.Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”She answered,sick of this interrogation. “What does he do?”Rose asked.Sarah rolled her eyes,nearly laughing at how clueless she was.

“Gardening.”Sarah replied,squeezing the door knob tightly.Rose frowned,a sympathetic smile on her face. “Sarah,he’s probably gay.”She whispered.Sarah chuckled,opening the door. “Yeah,she is.”Sarah answered,slamming the door behind her.

When she showed up to your house she let out an anxious sigh,standing at your door.She had never actually been inside before,knocking gently.Of course you couldnt hear her in your sleep though.She opened the door,frowning at the built up dust and lack of color.

She found your room easily,the one room that had a door.She knocked on it,not hearing anything and growing concerned,opening it quickly.She calmed down when she saw you asleep on your matress,hair messy.She smiled,taking a photo and sitting down on the mattress next to you.Your eyes fluttered open,squinting up at her. “Hi.”She smiled down at you.

You sat up,confused.The sun was nearly completely down,teh sky pink and purple. “Sarah?”You asked.She nodded,a grin on her face. “What are you doing here?”You asked,not really understanding why she was in your house or why she would want to be in your house.

It was messy and small and you hadnt been ready for her to see it yet.She shrugged,laying down with you. “I dont know,I missed you.”She shrugged,arms around your waist and head on your chest.You smiled,kissing her head. “I didnt end up cleaning,got tired I guess.”You replied,enjoying the warmth of her body.

She pouted,sitting up straight. “Its hot in here.”She mumbled,making you frown. “I mean yeah,I dont have air conditioning so-”You stopped talking when she peeled off her shirt and shorts,leaving her in one of your favorite sets that she owned.You nodded,agreeing. “Yeah,it is hot in here.”You agreed.

@outerbongs @copper-boom @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl @simonsbluee @jiaraendgame @khiaraaa-in-spacee @on-socks-off @poguestyleskye @jjtheangel @dannii-li @lovelyelinor

If you’d like to be tagged in all future JJ imagines/headcannons/series comment with a heart,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Pope imagines/headcannons/series comment with a smiling face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Rafe imagines/headcannons/series comment with a frowning face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Kiara imagines/headcannons/series comment with a question mark and if you’d like to be tagged in all future Sarah Cameron imagines/headcannons/series comment with a plus sign.If you’d like to be tagged in all Kelce content coment with a “>” and if youd like to be tagged in all Topper content comment with a “%”.Or if thats too complicated you can just comment whose name you’d like to be tagged in.

#sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron imagine #sarah cameron x you #obx sarah #sarah cameron headcannon #sarah cameron smut #sarah cameron fluff #madelyn cline #outerbanks

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eevee-eclair · 4 years ago

Text

Stay

Written by Eevee

Things to look out for: abuse, crying, forcing someone to tell you information, kidnapping, starving mention, unsympathetic!Patton, a small sexual joke (maybe 2), panic attack mention, hallucinations mention, (tell me if I missed one)

Random side note: This fic was made for @cherry-dork! Based loosely off this post (yes I know it’s been done before, I’m sorry). It’s kinda bad, but I had fun writing it!

Taglist: @poppin-pan @youremotionallystablefriend (sorry for not tagging the last few)

~~~

Logan gasped for air as the bag over his head was removed. “Wha..? Where are am I?!” He panicked, looking around. He saw Remus and Janus and frowned, immediately calming down. “Oh, it’s just you two.”

Janus crossed his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus frowned. “Yeah! You were fun when you were scared!” He cried.

Logan scoffed and pulled at the ropes that tied him to the chair, hoping to get back to the light side quickly so he wouldn’t get in trouble for being gone. “I’m just saying I’m not shocked you two are behind this,” he explained.

Remus gasped dramatically. “I’m the Duke!” He screeched. “I’m not predictable!” He spat the word like it was poison.

Logan sighed. “Can you just let me go? I have to get back before Patton finds out I’m gone,” he said, trying to stay calm.

He wasn’t afraid of the dark sides—in fact, he liked them a lot—but if Patton found out he was gone, he’d be in big trouble. He bit back a whimper at the thought of the last time he came home late.

“No,” Janus said. “We’re gonna have some fun with you, first.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah! What’s you opinion on Monopoly?”

Logan blinked. “It’s... one of my favorites...” he said cautiously.

Remus smiled and ran to get the game while Janus untied him. “Good. It gets boring with only two people,” he told him.

Logan nodded. He had been expecting some sort of torture, if he was honest, not a board game. I mean, that’s what Patton would do if he managed to catch a dark side so why would they treat him any different?

Remus came back with the game and slammed it down. “I call the dog!”

Janus smirked. “I’m the hat. Logan?”

Logan thought for a second before picking up the car and placing it on ‘Go’. “I’m ready,” he said.

———

Janus cursed colorfully and flipped the board. “Game over! I quit!”

Remus howled with laughter as pieces scattered everywhere. Logan was trying not to laugh as well, afraid that if he did, he’d be in trouble. He was still their captive after all.

Logan screamed a little as he was thrown back into the chair and tied back up. “Really?”

Remus nodded. “Well duh! Can’t have you running off, can we?”

Logan huffed. “I’m not going to run away.”

“Lie!” Janus called from the other room.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Don’t lie to us. I’ll be back in an hour with food,” he said, walking away. “If you need me, yell. The walls are pretty thin.”

Logan flinched as the door slammed shut. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts and here he was, stuck in a quiet room tied to a chair with no escape.

He started to panic about what Patton might do to him when he got home. Would he keep him from sleeping? Would he force Virgil to spiral him into a panic attack? Would he have Roman make him hallucinate? Would he feed him poisoned cookies and watch him die over and over again until Thomas needed him? And god knows when that time would come...

He forced himself to calm down. He decided that if he wasn’t going anywhere and food was on the way, he’d catch up on some well needed sleep incase Patton forced him to stay awake for days at a time. He was out before you could say ‘falsehood’.

———

Remus kicked down the door, a sandwich in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Oh, Logie!~ I brought food!” He announced.

Logan jerked awake. “O-oh! Hello, Remus,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Remus sat down in front of him and placed the sandwich in Logan’s lap so he could untie him. “Hi! Hope you like ham!” He said, rubbing Logan’s wrists to help with blood flow.

Logan nodded. “I do.”

Remus smiled and handed him the sandwich. “Then eat up! But don’t choke. Jannie is making cookies for us later!” He told him, sitting down next to him.

Logan flinched at the word ‘cookies’. “I-I think I’ll pass on the sweets. I should probably watch what I eat anyway,” he said, setting the sandwich down. If Patton knew he was eating without permission he’d be starved for weeks.

Remus frowned. “Lolo, you’re thinner than a cheaply made condom. Please eat the sandwich,” he said.

Logan shook his head. “I’m not hungry, anyway...”

Remus stood up and picked up the sandwich. “Okay... If you won’t eat, then drink,” he demanded, shoving the water in his face.

Logan sighed and chugged the glass, upset it was empty so soon. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper drink of water. “Happy?”

Remus nodded. “Very, thank you,” he said, walking out.

Logan held his own until he left. When he did, he immediately started to untie his legs since Remus didn’t tie his hands back. He had to get home fast. He finally stood up but fell right back down. His legs had fallen asleep and were basically useless.

Someone behind him tisked and picked him up and dropped him back in the chair. “Now now, we aren’t finished with you yet,” Janus threatened, tying him back up.

Logan held back tears. “Please! I have to get home before Patton finds me gone!” He cried.

Remus laughed. “Why? So Daddy doesn’t spank you?” He teased.

Logan nodded. “Or worse! Please! If I leave now I can be back before dinner!”

Remus faltered. “What? What do you mean ‘or worse’?” He asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Logan said, knowing he messed up big time by letting that slip. “I gotta get home!”

Janus shook his head. “Logan, what do you mean ‘or worse’?” He asked again. When Logan stayed quiet he flashed his fangs. “Tell me Logan, or I’ll make you,” he threatened. He didn’t want to, but he’d do it if he had to.

Among sensing when someone lies, Janus had what Remus called ‘truth serum’ in his fangs in place of venom like a normal snake would have. He’d argue that it isn’t, but when all is said and done that’s basically what it is, so he just goes with it.

Logan shook his head. If Patton found out he leaked light side secrets to the dark sides... he didn’t want to think about it...

Janus sighed. “Logan, please don’t make me do this. Just tell us,” he said, giving him a sad look.

He shook his head again. “I-I can’t tell you. Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.

Janus hissed at him, hoping to scare it out. “Tell me!”

Logan started to cry. “N-no.”

Remus jumped in. “Hey hey hey! Don’t cry! Janus and I aren’t gonna hurt you,” he said, wiping his tears away. Janus tried not to react to the lie that came out.

Logan sniffed. “Y-you’re not..?”

“Nope! But you gotta tell us what’s happening. What did you mean by ‘or worse’?” He asked again.

Logan shook his head and looked down at the ground. “I can’t tell you,” he repeated.

Remus sighed. “Then I’m sorry for lying.”

Logan looked up, afraid of what that meant as Janus sunk his fangs into his throat. He tried to scream but nothing came out. He felt something flowing through him but it wasn’t hurting him so it wasn’t poison... Hopefully.

Janus stood up and wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t want to, but you made me,” he muttered, almost ashamed of himself. “Now tell us, what do you mean by ‘or worse’?”

“If I’m not back soon, Patton will probably starve me for a week,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. “Th-that’s if I’m lucky,” he added, trying to fight whatever was spilling his guts metaphorically.

Remus and Janus were... shocked to say the least. That would explain why Logan was so thin.

“L-Logan...” Remus began. “I-I... why didn’t you tell us?” He whispered, trying not to cry.

“I didn’t want him or you to hurt me,” he said, tears falling down his cheeks.

Janus started to untie him. “Does he do this to Virgil or Roman?” He asked while the venom was still working.

Logan shook his head. “They don’t do anything wrong. It all falls to me.”

Janus picked him up out of the chair and held him close, also holding back tears. “It’s okay... you’ve done nothing wrong. What else has Patton... done to you?” He hesitantly asked, afraid of what he was about to hear.

Logan tired to cover his mouth but it didn’t do anything to stop the flow of words. “He’ll beat me if I mess up, lock me in my room if I try and interact with you or the others, ‘forget’ to feed me if I disobey him, force me to stay awake if I’m behind on work, and sometimes he’ll make Roman force hallucinations on me or make Virgil throw me into a panic attack for fun.”

The room was dead silent for what felt like hours, only broken by the sound of silent sobbing.

“L-Lo?”

Logan turned his head to Remus, expecting the worst. “Y-yeah?”

Remus ran forward and hugged him too. “You’re never going back there!” He yelled. “If they won’t love you, we will!”

Logan tried to tell him it was all a lie—he was joking, even!—but nothing came out. Whatever Janus put in him only let him talk if spoken to and tell the truth.

Janus sunk them out to his bedroom where he laid them all in the bed. “Is this okay, Logan?”

Logan nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled and put him in the middle, sandwiched between him and Remus. “You’re safe now, rest,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

Logan nodded again and slowly fell asleep. “Thank you,” he whispered before he closed his eyes.

Remus smiled and hugged him. “You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

When they wake up, Remus would make sure Logan was comfortable in their run-down part of the mind while Janus tore Patton a new one for the way he treated Logan. But for now, they’d enjoy each other’s company while it lasted.

~~~

Maybe I’ll do a part two where Patton comes for Logan, idk. This was fun though, thank you Cherry for the request!

#sanders sides #remus sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #unsympathetic patton #patton sanders #tw abuse #tw starving #tw kidnapping #tw crying #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #intrulogical #lociet #demus #intruloceit #eevee writes

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, vyxynheartssterek!

For @vyxynheartssterek. I hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Forward Motion

Claudia rocked back on her heels and brushed her hair out of her face. “Well, I think that was the last box.”

Stiles admired their shelves, the glossy dark wood lined with dusty tomes that they’d finally hauled from home. They’d been in the attic, the basement, the kitchen and the living room for longer than Stiles had been alive, and seeing them on display, all together and organized neatly instead of piled haphazardly on a box of old baby clothes was surreal and a little thrilling. “It looks great.”

She gave him a sideways look. “We still have stock to put out, pal. Don’t get comfortable.”

He laughed, knocking their elbows together. “Yeah yeah. It still looks good. I told you it would.”

She snorted. “Save the “I told you so”s until after opening day. Why don’t you go get us some caffeine to power us through until lunch, then we’ll get your dad to help us with some of this?”

“He said he’d help this morning, too.” Stiles stepped over a crate of crystals, around two stacks of boxes, and through a maze of shelves they’d yet to fill. “Usual order?”

“Yes, please. Oh, can you move that shelf to the window on your way out? It’s where I want to put the potted herbs.”

“Sure. Be right back.” He maneuvered the herb shelf—still empty for the moment—over to the window, adjusting it until it was lined up with the window, before he stepped outside. It was chilly out, just on the edge of cold, with a breeze that smelled like wood smoke. He turned and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, balancing his sneakers on the curb so he could admire their sign.

It’d just arrived the day behavfore, and installation had only taken minutes. The Beacon’s Raven curled in the deep red Claudia and Stiles had chosen weeks ago. The window had a beautifully painted raven with its wings outspread on it, front and center, and off to the side, a neat list of their hours. A banner hung over the glass door: “Grand Opening: 2 Days!” It was satisfying to see people passing by, peering in the windows on tip toes to see deeper into the store, chatting about how soon they could go in and poke around.

Stiles headed for the coffee shop down the road. He’d finally talked his mom into opening a real, actual store after years of her (and, eventually, him once he’d gotten old enough to grind herbs and mix potions) operating out of their house. The supernatural community of Beacon Hills had known and trusted Claudia and her family for generations, trusted and knew their magic and quality of products. It only made sense to finally move from backdoor sales to a real shop, where people could browse and where they could store extra potions without accidentally mixing them in with the cooking spices.

Although Stiles still thought John was overreacting about accidentally putting a sleeping potion in the chili that one time.

The coffee shop on the corner, Mocha Latte Memories, was also relatively new—only two years old, which in Beacon Hills meant it’d be referred to as “the new place” for another thirteen years—but it was doing great. It also happened to be Claudia’s favorite, so she’d dragged Stiles there as soon as he’d come home from college; they’d both been going at least once a week ever since.

Stiles caught sight of his reflection in the big bay window of the café and paused. His hair was covered in dust bunnies and cobwebs. “Gee, thanks, Mom,” he grumbled, using the window as a mirror to bat the dust away. He spent a minute combing through his hair with his fingers so he looked less disheveled.

A shadow moved beyond the glass.

Stiles reared back. “Oh! Oh, gods.”

A man on the other side of the glass was grinning at him, apparently watching while he fixed his hair.

Heat rushed to his face. “Oh my god.” He turned on his heel.

Claudia laughed at him when he told her why they wouldn’t be having coffee and why they should promptly move to the next town over. She called John to ask him to bring lunch and coffee while still tearing up with laughter.

Stiles worked through his mortification by sweeping aggressively.

“You two,” John sighed when he arrived. He took a drink of his own coffee while they were digging into their lunch. “The place looks great already.”

Claudia smiled up at him, heels bouncing off the crate she’d perched on in lieu of a chair. “You should’ve seen Stiles with the books.”

“My organization skills are legend,” he muttered, biting into his sandwich.

John snorted. “I still can’t believe you’re putting them out like this.”

She shrugged. “Beacon Hills is our town. We’ve always shared the knowledge anyway, and this way, they can look for themselves.”

The family spellbooks weren’t for sale; they’d dragged them all out and to the shop with a different idea in mind: at the back of the shop, they’d created a little reading room filled with chairs, two-top tables, and jars of pens. Witches and starter spellcasters could come to research spells and potions from their collection if they wanted, copy down instructions, or just read a while, rather than asking Claudia for a copy of a spell they’d heard she had.

And as an extra bonus, whatever they needed for most of the spells, rituals, and potions could be purchased from the shop before they left, if they wanted.

Stiles couldn’t wait to get started.

John stayed to help until well into the evening, when he made them leave for the night. “Your boxes will still be here in the morning,” he sighed. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Claudia set out one last display container, waiting to be filled, and let her fingers trail over the shelf, smiling as John led her out.

Stiles hung back, watching them hold hands down the sidewalk. He and Claudia had come in the jeep this morning, but he figured she’d ride back with John. He brushed dust off his cheek and smiled to himself. He’d missed them while he was away at school, he’d missed Beacon Hills, and being back, opening the store…it felt right.

“Absolutely not.”

Claudia grinned, shaking a box of amethyst at him. “Stiles, don’t be a coward.”

“Mom, don’t be annoying.” He ducked when she swatted at his head. “Why don’t you go get the coffee, and I’ll finish putting the crystals out?”

“I have a plan in mind, I need to do it a certain way.” She arranged the amethyst in the display box she had on the shelf, then tilted her head, studying the effect. She bent to grab some jasper.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You just want me to embarrass myself again.”

“You did that all on your own.” She set down the jasper next to the amethyst, then wrinkled her nose. She faced him, putting her hands on her hips. Her white POISON shirt was smudged with dirt and old paint stains, hair braided back with flyaways sticking up around her face. “What are the odds of seeing that same guy again? And,” she continued before he could reply, “what are the odds that he’d even recognize you? The man saw you for a total of ten seconds, kid.”

He made a face at her. “What if he works there?”

She smiled.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you’re getting the coffee next time.”

“Of course. Next time it’ll be my turn.” She shooed him and turned to the flat carts of planters, which were filling the shop with the heady scents of jasmine and lavender.

Stiles preferred to make potions with dried plants himself, but a lot of people were into growing their own lately. He didn’t stop outside this time—he didn’t want to give himself time to chicken out and go to Starbucks further up the road.

Mocha Latte Memories was right between the breakfast and lunch rushes when he got there; there were three girls at a table posing for a picture and an older man sipping from a mug and reading a book, but otherwise, the place was empty.

The walls were strung with photographs and every other table had an instant camera set up on a bolted tripod next to it. There were also disposable cameras set on the bookshelves, the counters, some tables, the window sills, and the console by the door, with a laminated sign on the wall explaining. The cameras confused Stiles until Claudia had dragged him and John to a table, set the timer on the instant camera, and took a photo of the three of them, waving it in his face.

Patrons were encouraged to take pictures with any of the cameras so they could be displayed on a rotation—they were also just allowed to take the instant photo home, if they wished. After a week on display, the pictures could be claimed by the person who took it or who was in it.

It was cute, Stiles thought. There was potential for creepy people to abuse it, but from what he’d seen, the staff kept a sharp eye on the cameras and who claimed which photos, and the owner was an old high school friend of Claudia’s and had gotten some witchy protections against that kind of thing. Photos taken of people without their consent would show up completely blank, as far as Stiles knew. There were other protections in place, but he hadn’t gotten any further details.

“Hey, Stilinski,” the barista, Cora, called out. “The usual for you and Miss Claudia?”

“Yes please.” He used his card to pay and found two fives in his wallet. Feeling cheerful—one day until opening and they were nearly done setting everything up—he dropped one into the tip jar, making Cora grin.

Behind him, the bells set above the door chimed as someone came in.

He set the five on the counter. “Put that toward their order?”

Her grin widened. “If you’re sure…”

“Yes, please.” He moved off to wait by the pick-up counter, looking at this week’s photos while he waited.

“Hey, thanks for the coffee.”

Stiles winced. He knew Cora was quick, so he’d kind of hoped his drinks would be done before the guy could notice him. He turned. His smile froze on his face.

The guy’s eyes lit up with mirth and recognition.

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed. He looked down and wondered how hard his mom would laugh at him if he filled the place with smoke and fled.

“You do remember me. I’m Derek.”

“Stiles,” he managed, strangled. “I-I—we’re—there was dust,” he blurted. “There was dust and I was trying to get it out of my hair, okay, and I don’t think it was that big of a deal, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, still looking amused. “I didn’t say it was a big deal.”

“Right.” Stiles eased back, even more mortified. “I-I-”

“Stiles! Drinks are up,” Cora called.

“Bye,” he croaked. He snatched the drinks and left as fast as he could.

Claudia was waiting outside when he returned, a worried frown on her face. “I felt you panicking, what-”

He shook his head. “I bought,” he gasped, “the guy coffee.”

Her brows shot up. “Start at the beginning,” she said, so he did.

He was right: she laughed at him.

The Beacon’s Raven opened at nine sharp on Saturday morning, doors flung wide and a mixture of orange and lavender smoking gently, filling the place with Claudia and Stiles’s favorite scents. The shelves were full, neatly organized, and inviting, the floors gleaming clean, and there was a carafe of hot chocolate and individually wrapped cookies set up by the register. Claudia turned on lively violin music and Stiles kept himself busy straightening the shelves.

“Mrs. Stilinski,” a familiar voice called out. “It looks wonderful in here, doesn’t it, Mom?” Lydia and Natalie Martin came in, arm in arm, already holding two other shopping bags.

“It does! Good job, Claudia.” She grinned, crossing to give Claudia a quick squeeze. Like Lydia and Stiles, Natalie and Claudia had gone to school with each other. “I wanted one of those wind chimes you make for Lydia’s new house and we thought we could take a look at the tarot cards—I’ve never been much of a reader myself but we think Lydia’s a bit of a sensitive.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles, but followed their mothers into an aisle anyway.

Two more people, witches Stiles recognized as regulars for dream talismans and ritual potions, came in, chatting about the store. Dotty, dream talisman buyer, spotted Stiles and shot over to commend him on the choice of orange and lavender— “Peace and energy in one, what a good idea for the first day,” she said, catching his arm.

Melissa and Scott showed up after that, then Heather and her boyfriend, and a group of local witches and some shoppers who were non-magical but interested in the local-made jewelry they were also selling.

Stiles kept busy ringing people up, helping a man pick out the right set of rune stones, and bagging things, keeping up a steady chatter about the store, so he shouldn’t have noticed one more person entering the shop. He should’ve heard the bell and called out a greeting and let Claudia handle it. Something made his head snap up. His eyes narrowed.

Coffee Shop Derek waved at him.

A tall, dark haired woman stood next to him, reading from the back of a crumpled receipt.

Stiles blinked back to his customer and smiled. “Thank you, have a great day.”

Mavis smirked at him. “Oh, you too, Mischief.”

He grimaced.

Mavis had been buying ritual herb bundles from Claudia since Stiles was three. She knew too much.

Claudia crossed to Derek and the woman and, to his surprise, hugged the woman. She gave Derek a sober handshake, smiling and saying something Stiles couldn’t hear.

He didn’t really recognize them aside from some vague familiarity, but Claudia clearly did. He glanced around, but everyone was busy looking—they were crowded, which wasn’t surprising. Beacon Hills was small enough that everyone and their grandmother had heard that little Dee Gajos, no, Stilinski now, and her son were opening a shop finally, and they all had to check it out, witches or not.

Stiles flicked his fingers.

“-Mom wanted some new talismans for the house, and Aunt Nettie wanted some cleansing potions for the party we’re having,” the woman was saying. “Mom also wanted us to congratulate you and let you know she’ll be out to see the shop as soon as she can.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet. I know she’s busy. Oh, one moment.” Claudia turned. “Stiles!” Her voice boomed, making him clap his hands to his ears.

Crap. He’d definitely been caught eavesdropping.

Her smile was far too wide. “Sweetie, why don’t you help the Hales find the things on their list while I run the register for a while?” Her voice was still too loud—raised so he could hear her across the store, if he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

He had two options, and only one of them would preserve what little dignity he had left at this point. He sighed and rounded the counter.

“Hey, I’m Laura.” She smiled when he approached. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Stiles.”

“Oh, really?” He narrowed his eyes at Derek, cheeks going red. Two mildly embarrassing run ins and the guy goes blabbing to his family.

“Yeah! You’ve met my mom Talia Hale a few times when she was picking up talismans from Claudia.”

Stiles’s gaze snapped up to Laura, then skimmed over her. “Oh, you’re werewolves. And Hales. I’ve met some of your pack.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s us.” She passed the list to Derek. “I actually wanted to talk to you about some blessed candles, Claudia, if that’s alright? I’m sure Stiles and Derek can handle the list.”

“Oh, sure. Here, we can go up to the register and talk.” Claudia smirked over her shoulder.

Stiles turned his back on her. “So.”

Derek lifted a brow. “You aren’t going to run away this time?”

“I’ve got nowhere to run,” he muttered, making Derek laugh. “Besides, I didn’t run. I just—I had things to do.” He cleared his throat. “Your mom buys talismans from my mom. I’ve helped make them before,” he added with a grin, deciding that he could push past his embarrassment. “She likes her bases covered, huh?”

Derek chuckled. “You have no idea. She’s going crazy over having the whole family at the house for our winter gathering. That’s why she wants to replace the talismans now.” He checked the list. “Four talismans, a house cleansing potion for Aunt Nettie,” he yawned widely, “new bells for the windows and,” another half-stifled yawn, “my uncle wants bloodroot.” He made a face.

“For what?”

He lifted that brow again.

Stiles flicked a hand at the shelves behind them. “I just mean if he’s making something for protection, we can make a bundle that’ll help more than just one plant.”

He shook his head. “No idea. He just came in and scribbled down bloodroot when we told everyone where we were going.”

“Ah.” Stiles shrugged. Not his problem. “Well, if they’re all concerned about the house, we can get some herbs to help with that, too.” He glanced at Claudia, but she and Laura were still talking. “The talismans take three days to make—they’re specific, so we don’t typically have them ready-made.”

“Oh.”

“Everything else is ready though.” He led Derek down the prepared potions aisle; already-made potions were popular with werewolves, shifters, and regular humans who couldn’t make potions themselves. He handed him the teal-colored cleansing potion. “There’s a tag with instructions on the cap, but I know Annette Hale buys this every few months.”

“She does.” Derek yawned again as they made their way to the herb aisle, stifling it in his elbow and shaking his head, like he was annoyed.

Stiles scooped bloodroot into a bag, avoiding eye contact. “Did you have a…long night?” he asked, and cursed himself for being so awkward.

Derek shook his head. “I just keep having these weird, vivid dreams, and when I wake up, I feel like I haven’t slept. And then I can’t make sense of the dreams.” He shrugged self-consciously.

“Have you tried-?” Stiles paused and frowned at him. “Sleep potions don’t work for werewolves.”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” Stiles touched some vervain thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No. What about an herb bundle?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never tried any of this stuff,” he admitted. “I don’t usually have trouble sleeping, either.”

Stiles dropped his hand and wandered over to the bells. “Maybe you should put a bell on your bedroom window instead.” He examined the smallest bells they had on display and picked out a silver one with a raven carved into the side; some of the bells had symbols or animals carved in them for extra protection, and others had nothing, a blank slate, but Stiles thought Derek could use the raven for some clarity. He held it out with a smile. “If anything is causing bad dreams, the sound will ward it off, and it should help make the dreams clearer so you can figure out what’s going on.”

Derek held the tiny bell in his palm. “Thanks.”

Stiles nodded, then looked back at the others. They had sets and singles. “Did Talia say what colors she wanted?”

“Oh, uh, no. Just some basic, uh, bells for us to string above the windows this winter.”

“Hmm.” Stiles chose a brassy gold set and a few tiny yellow gold chimes, and added a coil of delicate, triple braided twine. “Your mom will know how to string them.” He helped Derek carry everything to the register. “We’ll get the talismans started today.”

Claudia smiled as they set everything on the counter. She was wrapping up a full set of candles for Laura already. “One of you can come back to get them on Tuesday,” she assured them. “Oh, bloodroot alone? But-”

“Uncle Peter only asked for bloodroot.” Laura shrugged. “Nettie tried to get him to explain but he wouldn’t.”

“Huh.” She shook her head. “Maybe he’s got something in mind.” She rang them up while Stiles carefully bagged the rest of their purchases.

“Maybe.” Laura poked at the silver bell.

Derek snatched it and put it in his pocket. “That’s mine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh-kay. Thanks again, Claudia. We’ll be back on Tuesday for the talismans.”

“No problem, thank you guys for coming in!”

Derek turned back so he could wave and smile at Stiles one more time as they were leaving.

By the time they closed at seven, Stiles was dead on his feet; the plan was for them to open again the next morning at the same time, and be closed on Mondays and Thursdays, but he wasn’t sure they’d make it to Monday at this point. They needed to hire some more people.

Claudia was sprawled in a chair in the reading room, beaming and as exhausted as Stiles. “That was…better than I had hoped for.”

Stiles flopped into a chair across from her. “I told you people would come.”

She shrugged. “It’s different, selling little mixtures and plants from my kitchen and selling it in a store.” She flung her hands out over the arms of the chair. “I expected…well, you know how people here can be.”

“Assholes.”

“Fickle,” she shot back. “Supportive one second, and then the next saying I’m thinking too highly of my skills.”

He snorted. “I would love to see anyone from Beacon Hills claim that. They know you, Mom.”

She smiled. “They can be assholes, a little bit,” she admitted, and he laughed. “I was thinking of hiring some part timers, to cover us when we need breaks and a day off. Thoughts?”

“Yes, please.” He dropped his head over the back of the chair. “If we have more people here, we can close a little later, stay open most days without working everyone twenty-four seven, and be able to help more people. Also, we have to get the Hale talismans going.”

“Right.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of the chair. “What did Derek Hale need one bell for?”

Stiles lifted his head. “Hmm?”

She shot him a look. “Don’t play dumb. One silver bell.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Well, he kept yawning while we were finding the stuff his pack asked for, so I asked him if he was having trouble sleeping. He said he was having vivid dreams that were keeping him from resting, so I thought a bell would help, you know, in case it was something coming in.”

She frowned. “But they’re not nightmares?”

“Apparently not. Just vivid dreams.”

“That’s odd.”

“Maybe the bell will help.”

She nodded. “Okay! Let’s go straighten up, count the till, and get started on the talismans for the Hales.”

Because they’d known they would be brewing potions on-site, they’d picked this building in part because it had a kitchen already, so they wouldn’t have to have one built.

“We really need more people working here.” Stiles rocked to his feet.

“I’m working on it. Natalie Martin was interested already, but I’d like a few more witches on staff, too.”

“Dad can help out.”

She smiled as they headed for the kitchen. “He’s bored now that he’s retired.”

“He needs a hobby.”

“Please.” She handed him a broom. “Sprinkle some orange and violet ashes for luck first.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

It wasn’t quite as busy the next day, although they were making an almost equal amount of sales—fewer browsers, Stiles guessed. Around noon, Claudia left him alone to get some coffee and lunch, which was when Derek wandered in. Stiles straightened from the counter and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he replied uneasily. “Um, your talismans are still soaking in the first potion.”

Derek looked blank. “Oh, no, that’s not why I’m here, but thanks. I actually—the bell didn’t help,” he blurted.

Stiles frowned.

The woman over in the reading room sneezed, making Derek jump.

“Alright…let’s try an herb bundle.” Stiles rounded the counter. “Something to promote deep sleep, good dreams, some peace….that could help.”

Derek followed him. “I’m willing to try, I’m exhausted and the dreams don’t even make sense.”

“Hmm.” Stiles picked up a mesh sachet and skimmed through the dry herbs, letting his magic pick for him. He sprinkled in lavender, which was an obvious first, a tiny bit of valerian followed by peppermint mostly to disguise the foul scent of the ashes, chamomile, a tiny bit of eryngo, and some gardenia to tie it together, then sealed the bag. “Okay, there’s enough in here for you to sprinkle a tiny bit around your room, and keep the rest in this bag under your pillow while you sleep.” He put the sachet in Derek’s hand.

“You didn’t look at a recipe,” he pointed out.

Stiles frowned, plucking at the hem of his shirt. “Well, I don’t need one for that. I was just…feeling out what seemed right for you.”

“Do you do that for all of your customers?” he asked, smirking. His hair was damp from the chilly rain turning everything gray outside, curling over his forehead.

Stiles focused on a drop forming just above his eye. “No, not really. But none of them have asked,” he added defensively. He crossed his arms. “I was trying-”

“Excuse me. How much is this journal, young man?”

Stiles held his finger up at Derek and went to help the guy in a patchy tweed jacket with the journals. To his surprise, Derek was still waiting when the guy had paid and left. “Yes?”

He lifted the sachet. “I haven’t paid.”

Stiles blinked. “Oh, I—I was giving that to you.” They stood, blinking at each other for a prolonged moment.

Slowly, Derek’s cheeks reddened. His eyes went wide. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Thank—you?”

“No problem.” He smiled. “Did you ever figure out what your uncle wanted the bloodroot for?”

He shook his head. “He just took it and left, didn’t even thank us. He’s been annoyed all day, too, which for Peter means he’s been insufferable.” He turned the sachet over in his hand, then lifted it closer to his face to sniff.

Stiles glanced around the store, but the only person there was the witch in the reading room still. “We have some cookies left from yesterday, want some?”

“Sure.”

Stiles went to get them from the kitchen and poked at the talismans that were gently simmering in a warding potion. The first of three; the next would be applied later that evening. He scooped up the cookies.

Claudia had returned when he got out to the front, asking Derek how his parents were. “The cookies are still good,” she added with a quick smile in Stiles’s direction. “Why don’t you two eat in the kitchen while I watch the store? I can eat after you’re done.” She smiled again. “I got an extra sandwich.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

She winked at him and looked at Derek again. “You have time, don’t you, Derek?”

“I…uh, sure.”

“Great!” She thrust the sandwiches at Stiles. “Derek, I hope you like roast beef on rye with mozzarella and onions?”

Derek looked between her and Stiles. “Yes…that’s…my favorite.”

“How lucky,” she chirped.

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, “lucky.” He glanced at Derek, who looked surprised but not suspicious.

He clearly hadn’t spent enough time around witches.

Stiles took the sandwiches to the kitchen anyway. “You don’t have to stay,” he told Derek. “She’s just…” He didn’t know what she was doing. Teasing him for his two embarrassing encounters with Derek? Being overly friendly? Trying to help Stiles make friends like a shy five year old?

“It’s okay. I was just going to get lunch when I left anyway.” Derek looked around the kitchen, the glass front cabinets and the crockpot simmering on the counter. “I guess customers aren’t really meant to be back here.”

Stiles shrugged and set the sandwiches on the table. He grabbed some napkins, gesturing at the seat closest to Derek. “It’s only our second day open, we don’t have rules yet.”

Derek tucked the sachet into his pocket before he sat and unwrapped his sandwich. “You guys have been selling potions and talismans and stuff for a while though, right?”

“Yep.” Stiles licked mustard off his thumb. “Mom’s been doing it her whole life—before she and my dad got married, she and her parents sold supplies and stuff from their kitchen.” He rotated his wrist. “Beacon Hills is getting bigger and it was getting harder to run all this from our kitchen without overrunning the whole house with it.” Stiles took a minute to eat a few bites, watching with his head lowered as Derek did the same. “Your mom and your brother Sean, your dad Leo and your cousin, I think, Connie, I’ve met them all in passing. Annette, too. Amulets, talismans, potions, herbs, crystals—Connie bought a crystal when she was doing her midterms, more for a worry stone than anything, I think.”

“She still has it,” Derek said with a smile. “She wears it on a chain.”

Stiles smiled, too. “See, I’ve met several of your family members—your pack mates. But you’ve never come for anything.”

Derek shrugged. “Everyone else always had plenty and I never really needed anything.”

“Until now.” Stiles nodded at him, indicating the sachet in his pocket.

Derek flashed a grin. “Until now.”

After Derek left, thanking them for lunch and smiling at Stiles an extra time before he left, Claudia whirled on Stiles, beaming.

“What are you up to?”

“Absolutely nothing, how dare you accuse me of being up to something.” She wiped the counter with a damp rag, a smile playing on her lips.

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was accusing her of quite yet, so he fell quiet. He’d bide his time and get her back later. Three giggling high schoolers came in to ask about love potions and, having already been subjected to the Love Potion Lecture at age seven, and then twelve, Stiles made himself busy straightening the shelves and checking the plants for dry soil.

Claudia went into the back to eat after the girls left, so Stiles was left to deal with Mrs. Howard’s very particular taste in rose quartz for her daughter’s birthday. It wasn’t so bad, not nearly as bad as the PTA parents wanting “luck” potions for a bake sale.

John wandered in when things died down, while Stiles was drawing mindlessly on a legal pad. He leaned over. “Anything good?”

Stiles studied the shape. “Not sure yet.” He added another line. “I think it might need…copper. Amethyst.” He tilted the pad. “Some spirit quartz for an added layer, maybe, to clear things up.” He rubbed his finger over the top curve thoughtfully.

“Who’s it for?”

“Dunno. It just keeps coming to me.” He finally looked up and grinned. “What’re you all dressed up for? I thought you were strictly into jeans these days.”

John ran a hand down the neat button down shirt that he’d paired with a completely wrinkle-free pair of khakis. “I’m here for a job interview,” he said grimly. “Think I got a chance with the boss?”

Stiles grinned. “I dunno, she’s pretty strict.”

Claudia came out of the back wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes widened. “Well, now, Sheriff, don’t you look handsome.”

Stiles, still grinning, shook his head and hopped off the stool behind the counter to hunt up some of the materials he needed for the amulet he was going to make. Chips of amethyst and flint were his first ingredients, and the rest, he figured, would come to him as needed. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just copper wrapped around three very small stones in the shape he couldn’t get out of his head.

He rang himself up after he’d gathered a few more things, then put his supplies aside—his tools and the other things he needed were at home.

“What’re you making?” Claudia asked after watching him tuck his bagged purchases away.

“An amulet, I think.”

“Hmm.”

John was across the shop enthusiastically helping a witch select a chain for her new pendulum.

She looked amused despite the fact that John clearly had no idea what to direct her toward.

“He always was better with herbs,” Claudia mused. “I can’t believe he hasn’t picked up more from us after all these years.”

“Maybe he should just run the register.”

“He’s got it.”

Stiles shrugged and went back to his rough sketch, tracing the spirals with his finger.

He spent the evening coiling copper wire at the kitchen table, carefully wrapping it around the smallest piece of pearl dolomite he’d been able to find, then spirit quartz, and finally a tiny piece of flint. The amethyst chips went along the wire, and after that he sprinkled gardenia and lavender ash on it to sit for the night. He studied it; it wasn’t his best work, but not his worst, either. The amulet would need to be charged with his magic to bind it together, and he’d need a chain for it before it could be worn. The amulet itself was small, about the size of a silver dollar.

He left it overnight and took it to the shop the next morning. Stiles and John were handling the front while Claudia retreated, with a miserable growl, to do the accounting.

Her day job, after all, used to be the head of an accounting firm, and she had the most experience. Besides that, she wasn’t ready to hire someone else to take care of it.

“I’m still not sure, this one over here is really beautiful.” The customer indicated a hand painted tarot deck made by a local witch Claudia had grown up with.

“If you’re just starting, a basic deck is the best way to learn how to read the cards.” He smiled. “You can get fancy later, I promise.”

“Well…I suppose you’re right.” She sighed. “My mom said the same thing, and I definitely knew that was the right way to do it, but the hand painted deck is so…” She picked up the deck Stiles had pointed out to her. “Do you guys carry altar cloths? I would like to get a new one.”

Stiles grinned. “We do, actually. Dominic Birch embroidered them, his work is unbelievable.”

After she’d paid and left—with two new journals, an altar cloth, and her tarot deck—John helped a guy pick out a potted aloe plant and Stiles sold three necklaces and a ring.

The bells chimed as he was restocking with more jewelry. “Hi,” he called out, turning.

Derek waved awkwardly and held up a piece of paper. “Peter wants some more stuff.”

“Ah. Did he say what it was for this time?”

“Nope. He’s just as irritated today, too.” He passed the list to Stiles, thumb brushing the back of his hand. He was wearing a blue sweater in concession to the chill hanging in the air, and the fact that the sleeves were just a little too long for him was too much for Stiles. “Oh, hey, I think those herbs you gave me worked, last night I barely had any dreams at all.”

Stiles smiled at him. “That’s great.” He flipped the list over. Buchu, rose, dandelion—dried and ground. Huh. “Did he say how much of this stuff he wants?”

Derek shook his head. “But he did send his debit card, so feel free to ring up as much as you’d like.”

Stiles snickered. “I’d love to, but I think we should try to keep our reputation good, you know, since we’re so new and all.”

Derek snorted. “If he noticed, I doubt he’d say anything anyway. There’s so much going on at home, though, I don’t think he would notice.”

Stiles bagged the herbs as they talked. “What’s going on?”

“Just the usual holiday madness. For our winter celebration, our extended pack—that’s everyone who’s moved away and joined or formed other packs—comes to visit. All three houses are overrun for days.”

Stiles laughed as he tipped a scoop of dried dandelion into a bag. “That sounds awesome.”

“I guess it is, sometimes. That’s why everyone is freaking out, though. It takes a lot to prepare for all those werewolves.” He rubbed the back of his head, sighing. “I’m gonna have to share my room with a couple of my cousins.”

“Aw, didn’t you miss your cousins?”

“No.” He scowled, then sighed. “Yeah, a little bit. There’s just a lot of them—we all end up completely sleep deprived by the end.” He took the bags Stiles held out. “But it is fun. You guys should stop by. The festivities start on the twentieth.”

“You make it sound like a carnival,” Stiles laughed as he walked him to the counter.

“More like a circus,” he muttered. “But I swear it’s fun, and there’s enough food to feed at least three armies.”

“Won’t your family mind if we crash a family gathering?”

“No, I’m pretty sure my mom invites Claudia every year, only she always had plans.”

“Yeah, we usually do year end rituals and stuff, but I can probably, uh, stop by. If you wanted.” He studiously avoided the way John was looking at him while he rang up Derek’s purchases.

Derek beamed at him. “That’d be great.”

Stiles smiled. In his pocket, the amulet grew warm, then hot. His hand jumped to it, closing around the wire, and his eyes widened. “Should—should I bring…anything?”

“Just yourself. Maybe some earplugs. Aunt Nettie’s sister-in-law just had triplets.” Derek grinned at John. “Sheriff, you and Mrs. Stilinski are more than welcome, too. My mom will probably be calling sometime tomorrow or the next day to invite you herself.”

John smiled. “Maybe we’ll stop by this year.” His gaze inched over to Stiles and his smile stretched into a grin. “Just to make sure Stiles stays out of trouble.”

“Very funny,” Stiles muttered. “I’m an angel.”

“Lying is a sin, angel.”

Stiles, unable to flip him off, stuck his tongue out, and got a pitying look in response. He remembered Derek a second later and flushed, whipping around so his back was to John. “Uh, uh—let me know how—if the weird dreams come back,” he stammered. “We can try something else.” He cast around for something else to say as they inched away from the counter and noticed Derek’s bag. “Your uncle isn’t…trying to see the future, is he?”

“No idea.” Derek peered into the bag. “Why, is that what this stuff is for?”

Stiles tilted his hand side to side. “They can be used for a few different things, but yeah, divination and visions are some of the more popular things.” He shook his head. “Not that it matters, it’s not a big deal. Plenty of people use herbs for prophetic visions,” he assured him. “Us, we prefer crystals if we’re trying to see something.”

“Do you look into the future often?”

Stiles shook his head and met Derek’s gaze. “I prefer to be surprised. The future can change, so what’s the point in worrying about one vision you saw once, by chance, that might not even happen?”

Derek’s lips quirked. “Speaking from experience?”

He glanced back at his dad automatically; Claudia had joined him at the counter, their heads tipped together as they spoke. “Yeah, I peeked and I didn’t…” He shook his head again. “Doesn’t matter, it’s already changed.” He smiled at Derek.

“What kind of magic do you use, if you don’t try to see the future?”

He lifted his shoulders. “All kinds, I guess.”

“What are you good at?”

He laughed. “You want me to brag about my skills?” He waggled his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Stiles laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Well, I’m pretty good with water-based magic, and my telekinetic prowess is, if I do say so myself, pretty awesome.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration sometime.”

Stiles nodded and lifted his hand, palm up. Water formed on his fingers and slid down, gathering into a ball. He flexed his fingers. It froze solid.

“Okay, that was impressive.”

“A Stilinski, flirting by showing off, why am I not surprised.” Mavis’s voice made Stiles jump, the ice ball flying out of his grasp. “How utterly predictable.”

Derek snatched the ball before it could hit the ground and shatter.

“Mischief, you are just like your mother, I swear. You can do better than that to impress the man. Claudia,” she called in her croaking voice, “did you see what Mischief was doing?” She shuffled away from them.

Stiles covered his eyes. “Good gods.”

Derek mouthed, “Mischief?” but dropped it when Stiles shook his head. “Well, I thought it was impressive.” He held out the ice.

Stiles closed his hands over it. “There’s no reason to do big spells indoors, Mavis.”

“Balls of ice aren’t impressive, Mischief.”

He rolled his eyes at Derek. “I’ll see you later, I have to go chase an old lady with a broom.”

He laughed. “Good luck.”

Stiles finished the amulet on his break, holding his hand over it and binding the ingredients together, all the pieces, the copper, the flint, the quartz, the dolomite and amethyst, with his magic. He found a black chain he thought went well with the copper triskelion and attached it, then stared at the completed piece. It’d come to him for a reason, amulets usually did, but he just couldn’t figure out who it was meant for.

Claudia put the Hales talismans in the last potion while he was still staring at it. “Looks good. What made you use a triskelion?”

“I’m not sure, it just…came to me.” He shrugged. While Claudia had always had an instinct for talismans, Stiles had the same instinct for amulets, the shapes and materials often coming to him and hovering in his mind, behind his eyes, like he’d stared at a light too long. She’d found him making them enough throughout his life to know he hadn’t made it for himself.

“Have you figured out who it’s for?”

Her tone made him look up, eyes narrowed. “No…why?”

She poked at the talismans, then covered them again. “Well, the triskelion is the Hale pack’s symbol. They use it to identify their pack.”

Stiles looked at the amulet. “Huh.”

“Maybe you made it for Derek,” she teased.

“Mother, are you implying something?”

“Just that he keeps coming here…daily…and that he invited you to his family gathering.” She shrugged. She had an ivy leaf caught in her hair from that morning.

“He’s just being friendly.”

She snorted. “Laura, maybe, Nettie absolutely, but from what I’ve noticed, friendly is an optional trait in the Hales and they don’t bother unless they think you’re worth it.” She held her hands up. “Could be he just likes you as a friend, that’s true.” Her eyes gleamed. “But I say you take that amulet over on the twentieth and see if he says no when you ask him out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“If he turns you down, I will admit I was wrong, somehow.”

“Not good enough.”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “If I’m wrong, what would you like?”

“Grandpa’s book of charms.”

“Oh, Stiles.” She shook her head. “They’re messy.”

“Blood?”

She held her fingers a half inch apart. “But it’s more in the mud and clay and wet ashes way. Trust me. Messy.”

“I want them.”

She put her hands up. “Fine, since I’m sure I’m right, if Derek shoots you down, I will dig out your grandfather’s book of charms. Only if I’m wrong. If he accepts, you do Laura Hale’s interview. She wants to work here,” she added with a smile.

“That’s absolutely not on the same level.”

“Those are my conditions.”

“Ugh, fine. Are you and Dad going?”

She smoothed the wrinkles out of her black and pink dress, smiling serenely at him. “We have to be there, dear, it’s only polite.” She turned on her heel, ponytail swishing as she left.

“You’ve got ivy in your hair!” he shouted after her. He looked down at the amulet. “Damn it.” He needed to find a box for it now.

The twentieth arrived before Stiles was fully prepared. They’d been busy with people coming for ritual kits, herbs, potions, and gifts, enough that they could consider their first two weeks of being open a resounding success. Stiles found a decorative cherry wood box with a small raven carved into the side to put the amulet in, on a bed of gardenia and lavender, and dressed casually for the party.

Cora at Mocha Latte Memories turned out to be another Hale that Stiles hadn’t met and had told him to just show up whenever. “The dress code?” she’d repeated blankly when he’d asked. “Uh…casual. We’re a mess, don’t worry about it. Some of the littler kids probably won’t even be dressed.” She’d shrugged. “Shifters, you know.”

So Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect as he headed to the Hale property. It used to be just one house, but they’d added two more to accommodate their growing pack. Stiles hadn’t seen it in a while—not since he was a teenager, wandering the preserve at night with Scott and Heather, being stupid—so the sight of about twenty extra cars and a camper clogging the long driveway and part of the yard, plus about six people on the wrap around porch just chatting, was something of a surprise.

Stiles parked behind a blue SUV and turned the jeep off deliberately slow. He stared at the little box on his passenger seat and sighed.

John and Claudia had come over earlier, just after noon, but Stiles had managed to procrastinate so long that he now had to arrive alone. Maybe he could just sit here until he spotted Derek and act like he’d just arrived.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

‘Coming in at any point, son?’

Stiles scowled. He figured blocking her wouldn’t work, so he just shoved it back in his pocket, swiped the box, and got out. He had to weave through several cars to get to the yard, where he could see a flattened path from everyone walking the same route.

Behind him, someone shouted, “Quit it!”

He turned.

Fifteen feet away, Derek got tackled by a tall, skinny werewolf with short dark hair.

Stiles tensed, but it wasn’t until another werewolf, shorter, partially shifted and snarling through long fangs, joined in that he started running. “Hey!”

Derek snarled and rolled, but the shifted werewolf bit his ear, making him yelp, while the other sat on his legs to pin him down.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted again. He stopped before any of those flailing claws or fangs could hit him and studied the ball of werewolves.

Someone up on the porch noticed them and snickered.

Stiles flinched when blood spattered the grass, a yelp coming from the bottom of the pile. He rolled his eyes and put his free hand out, then swept it aside.

The taller werewolf tumbled aside, landing on his butt a couple feet away.

Stiles caught the other one and flicked him away, too, leaving Derek disheveled and a little bloody. Stiles turned to the two that’d tackled him and shook his head. “Two on one is shameful,” he scolded. He could see now that they were teenagers; their partial shifts had made them look older, but as the fangs and tufted ears melted away, they looked young.

The taller one looked petulant while the other simply looked mortified.

“He drank our hot chocolate!” the tall one snapped.

“Uh—what?”

Derek sat up. “You can’t prove that.” Blood trailed down his cheek, but the cut had, thankfully, already healed.

“It’s always you,” the embarrassed one piped up. “Uncle Peter says you keep stealing his coffee, too.”

Derek’s ears went red. “He’s exaggerating.” He looked up at Stiles sheepishly. “I always refill the cups after. I’m just useless in the morning.”

“You’re always useless.”

“Markus,” a man on the porch snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry.” He looked at Stiles. “How’d you do that?”

“He’s a witch, dummy.”

“Todd,” the man scolded.

Todd held his hands up. “But he is.” He squinted at Stiles. “Right?”

“Right.”

Todd smirked at Marcus.

Stiles held his hand out to help Derek up. “Brawling with teenagers?”

“They hit me first.” He smiled. “I thought you’d decided not to come when your parents showed up without you.”

Stiles shook his head. “Just running behind.”

Derek nodded, fighting a huge yawn that nearly wrenched his jaw apart.

He lifted his brows. “Dreams again?”

He nodded. “They came back a couple days ago.” He looked toward the house, ears going red. “You were in them this time, even though they still don’t make sense.”

Todd rolled his eyes and pulled Markus to his feet. “Stop stealing everyone’s drinks!”

“I thought it was Peter’s coffee,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to steal your hot chocolate.”

Markus rolled his eyes. “Make your own coffee, jeeze, Uncle Peter’s right. You are nose blind.”

“I am not!”

Stiles prodded Derek’s shoulder. “Excuse me, did you just say you’ve been drinking your uncle’s coffee?”

Todd nodded, aggrieved. “Derek steals everyone’s drinks, every year.”

He looked guilty. “Only when it’s really early, and I always refill the mug, brats.” That last bit was directed at his cousins, who were clearly unconvinced.

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“You can sleep in Cora’s room tonight,” Derek hissed.

Stiles shared an exasperated look with Todd, though he was sure Todd was more bothered by the hot chocolate theft than he was. He had a bigger problem. “Derek.”

“Yeah.”

He tried to think of a nice way to phrase it, but… “Are you, possibly, nose blind?”

Todd and Markus cackled.

Derek looked insulted. “No!”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uncle Peter is the uncle who’s been sending you to get potion ingredients from my shop, right?”

“Yea—ah, fuck.”

Markus’s mouth opened in a wide, wide grin. “I’m telling Aunt Talia.”

Todd’s hand shot out, catching his shirt. “Derek can buy our silence.”

Markus’s eyes went even brighter, delighted.

He glared at them. “What do you want?”

“Take us to the potion place.”

“Excuse me?”

“We never get to go to witch stores, we want to buy magic potions.” The boys looked excited by the mere idea, breathless at the power that was just in their reach.

Stiles leaned around Derek. “If you go find Miss Claudia in the house, she’ll tell you all about magic potions. That way when Derek takes you, you know which one to pick.”

They looked at each other, smirking, then ran for the house.

He straightened up. “That lecture should keep them busy for at least twenty minutes.” He swung back around to Derek. “You’ve been drinking coffee laced with potions.”

“Apparently.”

“Potions for prophetic dreams.”

“Yep.”

“Then refilling the cup before anyone noticed the coffee was gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which means your uncle has been drinking regular coffee thinking it was laced with potions, and probably getting annoyed that it’s not working—stop laughing!” But Stiles was laughing, too. “This is serious, you could’ve poisoned yourself.”

He shook his head as he wheezed. “Peter’s been so pissed lately, and it turns out it’s because his experiments aren’t working—because I’ve been drinking them.” He shook his head, overcome.

“Didn’t he—no, you said he didn’t tell you guys what it was for.” Stiles rolled his eyes. The cold was starting to seep under his jacket finally, chilling him.

“No, he didn’t. Serves him right for not telling us what he was making us run errands for.”

Stiles lifted a brow at him.

“Hey, I got my payback by losing sleep.”

“Somehow that doesn’t seem to compare.” Stiles looked at the box in his hand and sighed. “When was the last time you drank his coffee?”

“Yesterday morning,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. They were barely an arms’ length apart, over the muddy disturbed grass where he’d been wrestling with his cousins. He scratched drying blood off his temple.

“You’ve probably got another couple nights before the dreams wear off.”

He nodded. “Hey, I’m—I’m glad you came over.” He smiled shyly.

Stiles smiled back. “Me too. Now I know why none of my usual tricks worked for your weird dreams.” He tapped his finger on the box. “You don’t remember any of them?”

“Nothing that makes sense.” He shrugged.

Too bad. He shook it off and held the box out. “I brought this for you.”

“Thank you.” He took it carefully, tilting it so he could see the carving on the side. He traced it gently with one fingertip. “You guys are fond of ravens, I guess.”

“They’re a thing with my mom’s family. And they’re good friends.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to wait ’til sundown to open it, you know.”

Derek made a show of examining every inch of the box before he pried it open. His lashes fluttered. “You made this.” Not a question, no surprise. A fact.

“How’d you guess?”

He lifted his gaze. “I can feel it. You weren’t kidding about your magic being powerful. Can I wear it now?”

“Of course, I made it for you to wear.” Stiles had to look away, his neck prickling. He normally didn’t make a big deal of his amulets and the receivers of them typically followed his lead. He didn’t know what to do with such gravity. When he looked up, Derek was wearing the amulet around his neck, the triskelion resting just beneath his collar bones.

“How’s it look?”

Stiles nodded. “Pretty good,” he squeaked. He looked over his shoulder, but everyone who’d been on the porch was gone. He took a deep breath. “Well, now that I’ve given you fancy jewelry…”

“A protective amulet,” Derek corrected, cupping his hand over it as if he was shielding it.

“Right. I was—I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out on a date. Maybe get coffee from somewhere your sister doesn’t work.” He caught his breath and reminded himself that either way this went, he would get something he wanted.

He just, maybe, wanted to date Derek more than he wanted that book of charms.

Derek smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.” He lifted his gaze and winced. “But, uh, first we have to survive this.” He pointed.

Claudia and Talia were watching from the door, both grinning, while noses pressed against nearly every window around them.

“We could make a run for it,” Stiles said out of the corner of his mouth. “I think I can hold the door closed from here and we can make it to the jeep.”

“You can’t run from every problem.”

“I am fast enough to out run most of them,” he pointed out.

Derek caught his hand, twined their fingers together, and tugged him up toward the house. “There’s not that many of them in this house—most of them are out in the backyard.”

“Your mom is in there,” he whined.

Claudia winked.

“My mom is in there,” he added under his breath.

They laughed together and moved out of the doorway, linking arms and heading toward the kitchen, by the looks of it.

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand. “Because you didn’t shoot me down, I have to give your sister a job interview.”

“If you can survive this, interviewing Laura will be nothing.” Derek kissed the back of his hand, making him flush all over, before he went into the house.

“Derek!” a man growled, followed by a yelp and a thud.

Stiles shook his head and went inside to save him from Peter’s wrath.

#vyxynheartssterek #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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theroyalmile · 4 years ago

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Body by Chemo

Last weekend I went for a 9-mile bike ride to downtown Boston and back. I was admittedly nervous and skeptical about this ride beforehand for a couple of reasons. First, it has been years since I rode a bike, and I know there’s that whole expression “It’s like riding a bike” but I’m not sure that expression is all that accurate. Second, I have never ridden a bike in Boston. Third, I get winded these days going up and down my stairs, so I was not sure I quite “had it in me.” But, my whole household was going, it was a beautiful day, and I had been promising myself I would make an effort to be more active. So off we went. Oh, and there was a promise of breakfast sandwiches and coffee and donuts once we made it downtown- nobody could say no to that.

The beginning of the ride was rocky. The original bike I borrowed was just a little too tall for me, and because of that I felt incredibly unsteady. I traded bikes with one of my roommates and that bike ended up being a better fit for me- a few loops around a parking lot and I thought, “Hey, it really is like riding a bike.” With my confidence reasserted, we hit the bike path.

The bike ride was, overall, beautiful. I did find myself getting winded and had to stop a couple of times. My roommates had been prepared to take it easy with me, and were very supportive. Eventually we made it the 4.5 miles downtown and I felt so incredibly proud for conquering my first time back on a bike and first time biking downtown, all while dealing with the fatigue, shortness of breath and other goodies that come with my chemo treatment. I felt empowered and heartened, which made me feel optimistic about the ride back home.

That optimism was short lived; almost immediately after we took off it became apparent that my body simply could not handle it. I told myself we just had to get out of downtown and back on the bike trail and then I would ask to stop. We made it and I signaled everyone for a quick break. I thought maybe if I caught my breath and had some water it would be okay. One of our bike squad members offered for me to try their bike to see if that made a difference. I hopped on bikes a block or so, and then hopped off almost immediately- it just wasn’t going to work. As I hopped off, right after we had crossed an intersection, I heard two men yelling from a car about some girl having a fat ass, or something to that effect. Regardless of whether they were talking about me or someone else who had crossed the street with us, that was the final kick for me. Any experienced fat girl understands that you will always think those comments are about you, even when they are not. (Disclaimer: I do not mean “fat” as something negative, and I am definitely not looking for people to tell me I’m not fat, I’m simply stating a fact about my body). Anyways, it was at this point I felt the tears of frustration welling up and knew my ride was done. I told the crew I couldn’t go any further and would walk while they biked on.

There is a certain trauma that comes with being fat and exercising. It’s almost like you never want someone to see you fail at any kind of physical activity because it feels like you're reinforcing the stereotype, like, oh of course the fat girl can’t finish the bike ride. My roommate had offered, very kindly, to come back and pick me up in the car. That was an indignancy I couldn’t bear- it was one thing to fail to finish the ride; it was another to have to be driven home. No, I said stubbornly, I would walk my bike home. Caleb of course insisted on walking his bike with me.

As we walked our bikes I became more and more upset. Part of it was the embarrassment of being a fat girl walking a bike home. I almost want to scream at passers by “It’s not because I’m fat- I have cancer!” But another, bigger part of it was the reality of admitting to myself that chemo had changed my body, and it simply wasn’t up to the tasks it might normally have been. Eventually I became upset enough that I had to stop and let myself have a small breakdown. Caleb hugged me while I cried and tried to keep me in perspective. “You’re going through chemo” he reminded me, and tried to help me realize that having made it as far as I had was a feat in itself. He walked across the street to grab me tissues and a gatorade so I could cry, rehydrate, cry, and rehydrate some more.

****

Here’s the thing about chemo- it has made me feel incredibly betrayed by my body. I have always been overweight, since my teenage years or even earlier. Different versions of overweight, but overweight. That was just the way it was, and I had reached a certain level of acceptance of that. But I had always prided myself on how active I could be. Pre-pandemic I could run 4-5 miles no problem. I would hit the gym three times a week, I would get the steps in. I was still fat, I was active, and I felt good about myself.

Because of chemo, I am now fat, inactive, and feel terrible all the time. I get winded walking up stairs, I am exhausted by my five minute walk from the T to my office downtown, and I find a short walk will tire me out for an afternoon. And it’s not just my stamina. It is absolutely everything.

The skin around my mouth had begun peeling and reddening. My cuticles are dry and peeling and hurt. My hands and feet are dry and cracked. My arms are bruised up and down from frequent IVs. I oftentimes cannot open my medicine bottles or jars without help. My hair, of course, is completely gone, not just on my head, but my nostrils too, leaving me with an almost constant runny nose. My eyebrows are thinning, along with my eyelashes, and I pray to whoever is listening to please not take those away from me too. My hands shake, and have turned dark brown from the cytoxan (which thankfully I am done with). My memory is terrible. I am breaking out like I’m back and middle school. My joints hurt, my muscles ache, despite me doing nothing all day. AND I get hot flashes now! Oh and I am hungry all the time. Honestly ALL THE TIME.

Here’s the thing- my body and I have been in a constant battle since I was 12 years old. It took me 10-15 years to learn to love my body for what it was, with the understanding I was never going to have the same body as my friends, was never going to fit their clothes, and was never going to be the traditional idea of “in shape.” But we had come to truce, my body and I. I had found acceptance, and even joy in my body. I had even got to a point where I wore a bikini for the first time since I was a child the summer before the pandemic and it felt amazing, liberating. I followed plus size models like Ashley Graham and Tess Holiday on Instagram and thought heck yeah, if they can do it so can I.

My cancer treatment has taken the pride I had in my body and the control I had over my activity levels and appearance and destroyed every last piece of it. When I was having my worst struggles with my body in college, therapists used to ask me to list my favorite things about my appearance. My top two on that list were always the same: 1) My hair and 2) My boobs. Well, cancer has taken one of those things from me already and will have taken the other by the end of this summer. Like I said, my body has betrayed me now in more ways that I can count. And that betrayal is likely not going to end for a long time. Honestly not until there is no cancer in my body any more. Because let’s be real- that’s the biggest betrayal of all.

Whenever I catch myself in the mirror these days it has the potential to ruin my whole day. There are few outfits that make me feel comfortable and attractive. My face feels round, rounder without hair to frame it. I try not to look too long, lest I find more things to hate. I am terrified of upcoming social gatherings, and wonder how on earth will I be able to feel remotely happy about my appearance for them.

Chemo has reshaped my body in so many ways, some that I am only starting to realize. It is hard, fitting into this new body and becoming accustomed to it. It is even harder learning to love it. Indescribably hard. I think I can get there but sometimes it’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Moments like the complete few minutes of despair I felt during our bike ride sometimes make that light seem even further. But it’s important to remember those moments are often fleeting, and can change with a little perspective.

****

After I cried it out on the bike path, I checked the time and realized we really needed to start heading home. Caleb had a vaccine appointment to make and I was an hour away from committing murder of some poor bystander out of sheer frustration. I looked on Google maps and found the walk home would be 48 minutes, probably more pushing a bike and with my sad little chemo lungs. The bike ride home? 12 minutes. So back on the bike I went, and it took every muscle in my body to pedal that 12 minutes home. Fueled by my anger and embarrassment, and the residual tears, we eventually made it all the way home.

I originally found little pride and satisfaction in our trip. All I could think about was how I couldn’t bike the whole thing, and about how those guys in the car had yelled, and how much I hated my biking outfit, and how defeated and mortified I was feeling.

Sometimes perspective takes time, but eventually I found some. I owe a lot of the perspective to Caleb’s support and encouragement both during and after the bike ride, and to my parents pride and excitement as I was telling them about my biking adventure. I also owe a lot of it to a nap, a much needed shower, and a new day. With perspective I rediscovered some of that pride I had lost. Nine miles there and back? I did that shit. And yeah, maybe I didn’t bike the whole thing, but I sure as hell did the whole thing, and did the whole thing while in the midst of chemotherapy treatment. While in the midst of poisoning my body beyond recognition. I am a freaking badass.

And what did I do that evening? Ate my body weight in sushi because I wanted to.

I know there are going to be a lot more ups and downs like this. That bike ride was filled with some very high highs and some very low lows. This is going to happen. And while I don’t know exactly what to expect from my body in the months to come, I do know that whatever happens I’ll see y’all at the beach in July- I’ll be the fat girl with the bald head in a bikini eating an ice cream cone.

#chemo #chemotherapy #chemosucks #breast cancer #body image

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purplesurveys · 3 years ago

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1248

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? I feel like I’ve answered a similar situation recently, but I would assume it was a drunk text or wrong text, inform them about it, and move on.

Do you play video games? Nah. I do feel a sort of connection of video games since I grew up surrounded by them, though; but I’m more of a watcher than anything. I like watching playthroughs of video games I’ll never play. Do you spend a lot of time with family? No. We used to, back when the quarantine was still a relatively new thing – we hung out in the living room all the time. But now that we’ve settled in this new normal, we’re back to our normal routines and I usually like staying in my room.

Is your house more than two stories tall? Technically, yes. We have a rooftop that serves as the ‘third’ floor.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? My ex and I never hit one another; that’s a gigantic red flag even I would notice, considering I ignored most of the ones I saw hahaha.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) I’m not sure if I’ll be able to answer this question directly, but I like my generosity. I’m not sure if I can call it attractive, though. But if we were focusing on physical features, I like my smile.

What color is your hairbrush/comb? Pink.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm? My dad splurged on chips in his last grocery run so we actually have quite a lot of junk food in the pantry at the moment. He also bought several packs of cookie sandwiches, wafers, sunflower seeds, and garlic-flavored peanuts.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? Neither.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? No, she’s just a good friend of mine.

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? I guess I don’t, because I’m not even aware of them.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? Guy. It was another reporter, so I just ignored it and luckily he didn’t PM me just to ask to add him back, which others have already done. I really hate when work people try to make their way into my personal accounts.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? My parents, especially when they are rude to service crew. Gen X-ers are impeccably talented at that, apparently.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? Around two or three weeks ago when I had dinner at Angela’s. Her dad gave me a bar of Crunch so I can have something sweet after our meal.

Do you play any games on Facebook? No, I never did hop on that trend.

What would you like to get a degree in? I wanted a degree in journalism, and graduated with such. At the end of my college stint I didn’t want to pursue it anymore, but I pushed through with it anyway because it was too much of a hassle to shift and start all over.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Technically not, because I stay up until the middle of the night anyway. It’s been a while since I fell asleep anywhere between 8 to 10 PM.

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Watch a show.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? I don’t like either; I get fries instead.

What genre of films do you like the best? Drama.

How many bank accounts do you have? Two but I haven’t been using the other one in months. That was the bank account I initially opened when I first started ~adulting~ but when I got employed I was required to enroll in this other specific bank, so that’s what I mainly use now.

Have you ever had the flu? Not really. I just get the occasional fever that pop out of nowhere.

What is your goal for the next few months? Start saving FOR REAL, and also prioritizing furniture over merch for a while so I can finally fix up my room, which is quickly starting to look and feel like just a warehouse and not very homey at all.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? Nope.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. Yeah, it was from barbecue that apparently went bad, even though it tasted nothing of the sort. I woke up at 3 AM sweating profusely and with the most excruciating stomachache; I was feeling hot, cold, and nauseous all at the same time, and it probably lasted for like an hour or so.

What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for? Sealed albums and my pets’ vet expenses.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. Charming and smart.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? It felt nice to help people.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? Good question; I’ve never encountered this before. I would let her live a more comfortable, privileged life, where she didn’t have to staple her shoes to keep them closed or have to choose between eating at a fast food restaurant or being able to commute back home.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s always slightly taller than me.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? I haven’t.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? Tumblr, I guess? My survey blog isn’t for any irls to see.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping? I don’t really do either often, but I’ll go with mopping.

Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious? Not for me.

Did you pull a senior prank? No, that’s not a thing here. Did you graduate? Yeah, elementary, high school, and college.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? Nope.

What was the last song you listened to? It’s a song called Epiphany.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? Not ever since I was like 9 lol.

Is fashion one of your interests? I’m way more interested in it now for sure, mostly because the celebrities I’m into these days put a lot of effort when it comes to their style; so it makes me more aware of the trends that come and go, as well.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? I’m keeping it as a possibility, but it’s not a priority for me now.

Do you care what people think? To an extent, I would say. My life doesn’t depend on it, though.

Is acting something you enjoy? Never been.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained? Do you mean a thing or a body part? Anyway, I’ll answer both. The last thing I broke was my BTS Mic Drop pen of V looooooooooool the figurine came off the pen :(( It was pretty cheap though so I’m fine with it; I can always get another one. Last body part I sprained was my ankle, when I had a bad fall a couple of years ago.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? Either hasn’t happened.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? I don’t think so.

Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at? Angela’s. Also JM’s, just because their family doesn’t hover and that vibe can sometimes be nice whenever I’m at someone else’s place.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? Never.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? Not as a very young kid, but I took up table tennis starting when I was 12. Did you ever watch the show Full House? Nope.

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? Now that’s just delusional haha. I’m pretty obsessed with some celebrities, that much I can admit; but thinking of them in the context of marriage is so many steps overboard.

Have you ever burned someone’s picture? No. I could, but I am scared of fire and will probably just think of other ways to express my anger, like tearing up the photograph. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? Total length was probably like 3 hours. I haven’t gone too far when it comes to hiking.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo? Not interested.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Hans.

Do your parents smoke cigarettes? My mom tried it once in her life, I think. My dad has never smoked.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? “Hope right here!”

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Anything that’s supposed to roam freely in the wild, like squirrels.

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Taller, since I’m already quite pint-sized to begin with lol.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. < Agree, especially with the eras. Childhood photos are always fun to look at, but I have had to delete a CHUNK of photos from years ranging from 2014 to 2020 because I’ve lost a handful of friends from that period.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? It’s hard to for the most part, but I’ve noticed very few people people really don’t. Most of the time it’s bullshit though.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? That it’s pretty close to the metro.

What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during? Hmm, I prefer TV shows if I’m craving comedy.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? Life Is Beautiful.

What’s your favorite restaurant? Omakase for my sushi fix; School Tteokbokki if I want Korean; Yabu if I’m looking for a generous rice meal.

Is there a dessert you don’t like? Anything with fruits.

Favorite album? After Laughter by Paramore.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? I can name authors instead of books – John Green and Haruki Murakami.

Underwater or outer space? Outer space.

Dogs or cats? Dogs.

Kittens or puppies? Puppies.

Bird watching or whale watching? Whale watching. I don’t get to be in the water as much, so I would jump at the opportunity.

What is your spirit animal? I dunno if I have one but let’s just go with dog and elephant, I guess? They’re my favorites.

What was your best subject in school? History.

What was your worst subject in school? Chemistry.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? Don’t waste your time.

Who is your fashion icon? Audrey Hepburn.

Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds.

What color dress did you wear to prom? For my own prom it was cream-colored/beige. When I went to Mike’s ball, I went with a royal blue gown.

What’s your favorite plot-twist? I don’t think I’ve found my favorite yet.

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? Not actively.

Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad? I dunno...road rage, maybe?

Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad? It’s very likely.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? Sometime in the last week.

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? No thanks.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? Nope.

Who are you closest to? Angela.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience? No, all the ones I’ve been to have been amazing experiences.

Are you currently sad about anything? Not really. I can’t complain.

Have you had any form of exercise today? Nah.

Can you handle blood? Nope, I will feel faint if I see it 100%.

Has any place hired you underage for a job? No.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? I haven’t.

Are you currently searching for a job? No, I like the one I have.

Does eating breakfast make you sick? No?

#survey #surveys

2 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

Text

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 2

2. i been fronting that it’s just for the summer

Summary: So you’re together, sort of, and it’s great! Everyone seems to be convinced, that’s not the issue. The issue comes when you fly to LA for filming, and you decide to stay with Colson, but the room only has one bed. And the paparazzi crash your first “date”. And he kisses you and your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, which is not supposed to happen because this isn’t a real relationship! But it’s fine. Probably.

A/N: So bare with me, it’s a very long chapter. Also, pretend the Tunnel of Love remix by haroinfather came out before 2018 and not in 2019. Enjoy.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23

----

It feels like you’re braced for impact when you walk into rehearsals the day after you release the video. Douglas has already seen it, of course he has, he messages you minutes after it’s posted.

[Dig Doug: Not gonna say I Told You So, but im glad you’re happy. 🦆🦆]

It gets you to smile, despite your anxiety surrounding the whole situation.

“Now what?” Colson asked after the video was posted, sitting next to you on his bed. The duvet is so soft, and somehow the whole situation is so inherently soft. Maybe it’s that you’re both in hoodies and sweat pants. Maybe it’s that you’d just told the world that you’re dating. His eyes are so blue.

You phone goes off.

His phone goes off.

Both of you have Twitter muted, but even so, it needed to let you both know that you were getting a lot of mentions.

“Now we’re dating,” you say, flipping your phone over, while Colson picks his up, opening Twitter and beginning to scroll through his mentions. Where in the Hell were you meant to go from here.

“Alright, cool; you wanna get pizza or something?” He asks, simple as that, and it’s now you seem to realise that you’ve been so stressed from everything that had been happening that you hadn’t been remembering to feed yourself.

“Honestly, I’d love to.”

The next day, however, it’s the elephant in the room; the others don’t say anything, but everyone, even Douglas to some extent, was wondering how in the hell they had missed your apparent relationship. But it’s not awkward; you and Colson act the same as always, you take notes for Josy, and get coffee, and type away on your laptop.

They break for lunch, and you look up from your work only to see Josy making a beeline for you, an intimidating look of determination written all over her face. Ah, here’s where the interrogation begins. Glancing over your shoulder you see Colson shoot you an amused, if concerned look, glancing to Josy. In response, you shrug; it can’t be helped.

“We need to talk,” Josy tells you, steers you from the room, across the parking lot, into a whole new building, where she paces for about three minutes, unable to look at you, hands basically pulling out her hair, all of which amuses you greatly. When she comes to a stop in front of you, it’s as if you can see the cogs of her brain turning, her fingers steepled in front of her mouth as she tries to order her thoughts.

“You know you’re my favourite assistant in the world and I treasure our friendship, right?” She asks, and you fix her with a fondly exasperated stare.

“Of course, you see fit to remind me every time I bring you coffee -”

“Then why, my little duck, my little goose, apple of my eye, enchilada of my bosom,” she says with an almost poisonous sweetness, looking you directly in the eye, “would you date one of my actors?” And you have to hold back your laughter in the face of her sincere and rather angry confusion.

“Josy, please,” you start, and she already looks like she wants to interrupt, “I like him is all, okay? I won’t be a distraction -” you can already see her trying to protest, but you hold up your hand to stop her, “and he won’t distract me; if anything, it means there’ll be no outside distractions, hopefully.”

“[Y/N] you test me,” Josy sighs deeply, scrubbing at her face, “how long?”

This gives you cause for hesitation, because neither you nor Colson had thought to get your whole story straight the night before. He had ordered room service and you’d just talked about music until you finally went back to your own room. An oversight, sure, but you had been glad to have a plan, and were happy to figure out the details later.

“A few weeks -” when you say this, Josy makes a choked, wheezing noise, and you pause, “since... uh, since he took us around the city at the end of the first week.”

“Does Douglas know?”

“He’s not my handler,” you fire off reflexively, and Josy winces, a little sheepish, “but yes.” You paused. “Now.”

Josy lets the whole conversation slide with some reluctance, and she asks you to get her lunch from the deli a few blocks away. You agree, partially because it’s your job, but mostly because you’re just glad to get out of the building and away from her exasperated, judgmental stares.

He’s corrupting you. It’s what the media thinks. It’s what Josy thinks. And something about the assumption is already starting to get under your skin. But right as you start to get truly annoyed by the subtext she had been blasting you with, you hear your phone chime.

[Colson: am i gonna get The Talk from my AD later on? Ducky: wot Colson: like u no... if you hurt my daughter im gonna hurt you Ducky: Josys not my mom??? shes like 3 years older than me???? Colson: its a joke. chill ducky. everything alright tho? Ducky: told her wed been dating since that night i filmed a few weeks ago Colson: smart. everyone thinks weve been together since then nyways Ducky: you want anything from the deli? Colson: what Ducky: im at the deli. u want a sandwich? Colson: yeh sure. surprise me. maybe chicken idk. webber wants a chocolate milk Ducky: milks bad for vocal cords Colson: he doesnt care 😈]

It makes you laugh. He makes you laugh. It’s as easy as that; you’re still friends, it’s just that you spend more time together, are closer, when you go out for dinner with the cast, he’s invariably beside you. You’re both always on time to rehearsals, and he keeps sending you selfies from costume and makeup tests, and it’s going fine, great even, despite all the nasty DMs you were still receiving. Of course the supportive ones always outweighed the negative, and even the negative didn’t really bother you, because it’s not as if there was a real relationship in jeopardy, so it actually took a lot of weight off your shoulders.

Filming is set to start on location in LA after about a month and a half of rehearsals, and while the first month had primarily been working on scenes, the extra fortnight you’d been there had been almost consistently rehearsing as a band for eight hours a day, six days a week. The day before you’re due to fly off, the whole cast looks exhausted at brunch.

“Pass me the salt,” Colson yawns, half asleep with his head against the window of the cafe.

“It’s right in front of you,” you counter, knocking his knee with yours beneath the table.

“My arms don’t work,” he groaned, but he was smiling now, just a little. You look to the other cast members all enjoying their own respective breakfasts. Daniel’s on voice rest, despite the fact that they’re going to be using recordings of Motley Crue themselves for the actual film, they still want him able to perform covers for when they’re filming; currently he’s nursing a lemon and ginger tea with enough honey to drown a bee. Actually, Colson was the only one out of the four of them not to be drinking tea; both Iwan and Douglas both having ordered a cup with their breakfasts. Iwan was the only one who looked ready for the day, with the rest of them all slumped over in various states of exhaustion.

“Ducky, come on, please?” Colson actually whined, and you rolled your eyes, passing him the salt.

“You’re so needy,” you tell him, but your smile is enough to let him know that you’re joking.

“Why’re you called Duck, if I may ask?” Iwan asks, and you heave a sigh, knowing Douglas was already smiling before you even turn to look at him.

“Because when our parents first brought her home, all she did was follow me around like a duckling,” his tone is all fond, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a side hug despite your indignant noise of protest.

“Adorable,” Iwan grins over the lip of his cup. You just groan, and steal a bite of Douglas’ pancakes, though he doesn’t seem to mind, “have you worked much in the industry?” Iwan’s accent sounds like home, and despite how quiet and bitter he is in character, he’s rather bright and talkative as a person.

“Here and there; I actually spent quite a few of my teenage years as Doug’s assistant when he would be filming in London,” you say with a half-smile, “still a bit of a duck I suppose, but it looks good on my CV. I do odd-jobs on sets here and there back home, have been a runner for a few TV shows, but I don’t really go out of my way to be on camera, you know,” you shrug, before hearing your mistake. Both Colson and Douglas are already laughing, while Daniel and Iwan just seem confused. “Apart from, like, my actual job, you know? Like I’m on camera for YouTube, but not for a real movie or anything.”

“Well you seem very good at your job, we’re glad to have you onboard,” Iwan nods with a surprisingly sincere smile. Beneath the table, Colson’s hand is on your knee, and he gives you a small squeeze.

“I thought your hands didn’t work?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and Douglas almost spits his drink all over Daniel at the implication.

“Excuse me?” His eyes are wide as saucers and Colson’s quickly turning red.

“I said my arms don’t work but damn, call me out why don’t you?” He splutters, raising his hands in the air in mock surrender, with only mild wincing. It’s about now that you realise the assumption that your brother had jumped to.

“His hand was on my knee, Doug, I was trying to make a joke,” you explain, flustered, though Daniel and Iwan on the other side of the booth have collapsed on top of each other with laughter. You, Douglas, and Colson, however, are all equally mortified, and make a point to move so neither of you are touching as you finish your breakfast quickly.

“I just appreciate,” Daniel was still chuckling as you all left the cafe, as was Iwan, “that Doug genuinely thought Colson was getting busy with his sister at brunch, like, right next to him under the table.

“Nah,” Iwan actually laughs, his smile sharp, “they’re just really in character.”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today we’re flying all the way to sunny L.A, which honestly isn’t that far from Portland, but the production company was nice enough to not make us road trip it.”

The video starts in your hotel room, and follows you as you pack your things, and cuts to a montage set to some royalty-free music, of you heading to the airport, of the cast yawning. Your brother buys you breakfast at a fast-food restaurant in the airport, and you check your bags; a panning shot in the waiting area, of every single member of the cast and crew that are taking this flight on their phones.

“You look cute,” you mutter very quietly to Colson, who’s sitting next to you, scrolling through Twitter with a travel pillow squished up around his neck. He gives you a toothy smile, leans his cheek against the pillow, and winks at the camera.

The hotel you’re staying at is beautiful, all marble pillars in the foyer and beige and cream counters, and it feels like it might be too much. This is where the stars stay, and you? You know you’re absolutely not a star.

“Duck?” And there’s Josy’s voice, hesitant, about to tell you the jig is up, hand you keys to a water stained motel room a few blocks away. When you turn to her, she’s got two separate key cards in her hands.

“Yes, Josy?” You ask sweetly; it’s not her fault, after all, that you’re not a top-billed star.

“So corporate wanted to put you with some of the other crew, they’re staying in a place down the road - it’s really lovely, trust me, and if you want it we can still get you a room - but,” Josy glanced to the cards in her hand, before holding them out, one in each hand, “if you’d like to stay here, both your brother and Colson are happy to share with you.” And at this, your brain stalls, looking at the key cards being offered to you.

“Why didn’t they tell me this?”

“Because they’re already heading up, but they wanted me to let you know that the offer’s there.”

So it seems that in the three minutes that you were mooning over the architecture, and giving the guys their space, since you’d assumed you’d be staying elsewhere, both your brother and your fake boyfriend happened to mention that you’re able to stay with them if you want. Douglas is not a surprise; Colson is.

“How big are the rooms, I don’t want to -” you start, but Josy’s quick to cut you off.

“The size isn’t the matter; they’re big enough rooms, got really comfortable sofas from what I could see, but...”

“But?” You prompt, and Josy gives a smile.

“Of course, it’s all about what you’re comfortable with; you know Doug’s more than happy to take the sofa, I just know you and Colson haven’t been together that long -” And here it all starts to make sense, and you hope the smile you give isn’t nervous as you ask which key is which. You take Colson’s.

The elevator ride up to the cast’s floor has you wracked with nerves, which you think is ridiculous; you can sleep on the sofa, it’s no trouble, and he wouldn’t have offered the room if he hadn’t meant it. So why does the idea of staying in a room with him, with only one bed, have your heart beating so fast? You’d been teasing each other, flirting and being cute together, in front of other people, that was easy, but since the night you’d released the video, you hadn’t really been alone together. You hadn’t needed to be. It seems like all you can think about as you walk down the beige hallway to your room, on auto-pilot as you scan your key card and enter the room.

It’s quiet.

There’s the gentle whistling of wind that comes from the balcony, the overhead sun beating down on the pristine, Hollywood beaches. He sits on the balcony, plush armchair, smoking a joint with his shirt off. Inside, it’s all white walls and gold accents, his suitcase on the bed, already open the contents inside surprisingly neatly folded. There’s a door beside you that you’re pretty sure leads to the bathroom, and the room itself is spacious, with a gorgeous, gray sofa sitting off to one side, and a wall-mounted television on the other. Just for the moment, all the fears and anxieties in your mind vanish at the sight of this pristine serenity.

Quietly, you wheel your own suitcase to the sofa, and pull out your phone.

He’s stunning, like that, his feet up on the coffee table on the balcony, free hand tapping a lazy beat on the arm of his chair. You take a candid photo of him as he exhales smoke, and it catches the sunlight beautifully, with the water out of focus in the background.

“Can I post this?” You ask, and he jumps a little, not having heard you come in, before his concerned expression morphs to a genuine smile when he realises that it’s you. Turning the phone to him, you show him the photo you took, and he lowers his sunglasses to get a proper look at it. After a beat, his gaze flicks to yours.

“’course, it’s a nice photo.”

“You’re very photogenic,” you brush of his compliment with a smile, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose, looking out from the balcony.

“You crashing here?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you respond, and he actually laughs, though the sound is kind.

“Wouldn’t have offered if it was.”

Easy. Like everything else about him, it seemed, this was easy.

You caption the photo ‘the view from my balcony 😍’ and post it on both Twitter, and your Instagram story, tagging him in both, and you set about checking out the room’s facilities. It’s a normal, if fancy hotel room. Little bottles of soaps and shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom, TV with a bunch of standard channels, and a whole ton more that you could pay for if you wanted, it even had a set of cables so you could charge your phone, either side of the bed. The singular bed. Which Colson has clearly already claimed.

Maybe it had been a mistake to not board with your brother.

“I’m getting lunch, you want anything?” You call, needing to get out of your own head for a bit, wanting to explore the city a little. He’s quiet for a moment, then you hear a strained ‘yeah’.

“Gimme a moment, let me put on a shirt and I’ll come with you,” he tells you through a lung full of smoke, putting the joint out in the ash tray provided, tucking the other half in his pocket for later.

“You not gonna vlog this?” He asks, half smiling in the elevator, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Oh, shit, knew I forgot something,” you mutter, and you go to punch in the number of your floor again, but his hand catches yours.

“We’re coming back after, don’t worry about it.”

And, well, you don’t.

It’s easy to talk to him, you swap stories about life in the entertainment industry from two wildly different perspectives, and you find a cute and overpriced restaurant to have lunch in. All the while, you’re so aware of where you are, how there could be any number of people snapping photos of the pair of you. It’s not like you’re being overtly couple-y, you’d only been putting on this ruse for three weeks at this point, but he pays for your lunch.

“Oh, I didn’t realise this was a date,” you admit, a little surprised, a little flustered. He shrugs, eats the last bite of his burger, and smiles.

“Why not? We haven’t had the chance to go on one yet, let’s take it for a test drive. Do they- are boardwalks still a thing? Is a boardwalk carnival still a thing or was that just the nineties?” You’re actually rather taken aback by his suggestion, and can’t help but grin, picking up your mostly empty glass to swirl the ice at the bottom.

“Pretty sure boardwalks are a thing, not sure about carnivals on them, but we can check it out.”

You each finish your drinks and leave, setting off for the waterfront. Feeling bold, you tuck your arm in his, and enjoy the Spring-time sunshine. The boardwalk, as it turns out, is still definitely a thing, as are the kitschy carnival rides along it.

“I feel like a fuckin’ teenager,” Colson mutters under his breath, knowing you’ll hear it, “if we see a couple where they’re both wearing braces, looking like they just got out of school, I’m throwing myself straight into the ocean.” He informs quietly, and you snort at that.

“Not a fan of traditional cute date shit?” You ask, as the pair of you approach the ticket booth.

“Not in the slightest,” Colson admits through his teeth while trying to smile at the attendant. The attendant, who obviously recognizes at least one of you, is doing her best not to look like she’s staring. You each buy a ride pass and head in, and the girl tells you to have a good afternoon, with a nervous sort of excitement.

“This feels like somewhere I’d go with my daughter,” Colson looks doubtfully up at the ferris wheel that sat ahead of you at the end of the pier, looking more than a little perturbed, but his words struck you in a way that you hadn’t expected.

“Have you told her about us?” You asked, and he casts an unreadable glance at you.

“Listen, if we’re going to talk about... stuff like this, let’s at least do it somewhere a little more private?” It seems he, just like you, is acutely aware of how busy the little set of attractions is, and having already been recognized once, it’s almost certainly not going to be the last time today.

The gangly-limbed teenager working the ferris-wheel doesn’t even hide that he’s staring at Colson with hero-worship in his eyes, and he gives you a look over, followed by an approving, rather smug nod, before closing the door of the carriage. It makes your skin crawl.

“Why does everyone get to decide if I’m good enough for you based on my looks?” You hear yourself mutter, but Colson’s slinging his arm around your shoulders as the pair of you are raised steadily into the air.

“Who gives a shit? They’re jealous, and it doesn’t matter because we’re not really together anyways,” he’s got a point, but your expression is still downcast, and there’s a strange sadness settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I suppose.”

Once you’re high enough in the air that no-one from the ground should be able to hear either of you even a little bit, Colson sits back, lets his gaze drift across the horizon.

“I told Cassie about us, told her the truth.” He doesn’t sugar coat it, doesn’t try and explain his way out of it, when instead he looks tense, like he’s read to defend himself. You, however, nod, giving him an understanding smile.

“Of course, she’s your daughter,” you pause, and he finally looks back at you, and you think you see some hint of relief in his eyes, “I never expected for you to lie to her.”

“She’s a good kid,” he assures softly, “got a good head on her shoulders.” And now he’s turning fond, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “fuckin’ who knows where she got it, ‘cos it ain’t me.” Laughing a little, he’s surprised when you answer, voice soft and sincere.

“You’ve gotta give yourself more credit,” you tell him matter-of-factly, “you wouldn’t be half as successful as you are if you didn’t have a good bit of sense.”

“I knew there was a reason I was dating you,” he teases, pulling you in close, but you play along.

“Yeah, it’s that good sense of yours,” you returned, and he gave you a gentle shove. “Am I going to meet her at all?” You ask finally, and Colson gives another shrug.

“Yeah, I mean sure, she wants to come to set, so if you’re around you’re welcome to meet her,” his fingers are drumming lightly against your shoulder, “I should warn you though, she tends to vet any girls I’m getting serious about pretty hard, fake or not.” And yeah, you’re laughter’s a bit disbelieving, and though he sees the humour in it, he doesn’t seem to be joking, “she’s a good judge of character, and I’ll tell you now, I’m mad protective of her, but she’s mad protective of me too.” The thought of it is actually endearing, and you lean into him, letting yourself heave a sigh of contentment, glad to have talked this through.

“This would have been real nice to film,” he muttered, a teasing edge to his voice as the two of you stared out at the glittering ocean.

“Don’t even start,” you gave his ribs a shove, which only made him laugh, the sound warm and easy in the afternoon air, the sun moving slowly to the horizon.

Slowly but surely Colson was warming to the little boardwalk carnival. The two of you play obviously rigged games, and ride the rollercoaster that creaks ominously, and he even convinces you to share some fairy floss. He snaps a picture of you grinning wide and genuine as you offer him the treat, and posts it to Twitter with the caption ‘sweet’.

There’s a Tunnel of Love ride that Colson had adamantly refused to go on at first, but as sunset was drawing closer, he relented.

“I’m not a cliche! I’m not a fucking cliche!” He huffs, sitting beside you with his arms crossed, his legs so long that his knees came up almost comically. You’re filming on your phone for your Instagram story, and will later add at least two heart gifs, but for now you’re just obnoxiously singing the Tunnel of Love remix, thankful that you’re the only two on the ride at the moment.

“You so fucking cute, when I see you, I uwu, can you be my fucking boo? Can you be my sailor moon?” Hearing the smile in your voice, he turns to you, something about his expression softening as he sees the joy written all over your face that the camera can’t see, “and I don't wanna fight, I just wanna treat you right; I was aiming at your heart and I don't wanna say goodbye.”

He just laughs, and shakes his head as the ride takes off, fond adoration written all over his face.

The sun’s setting by the time you’ve ridden all the rides you wanted to, eaten all the candy you could possibly stomach, and failed at enough rigged games that you were about ready to call it quits.

“Hey I didn’t just wanna come here for the carnival shit,” he said, and you’ve got your arm tucked into his again as he steers you both to the edge of the boardwalk, where there was a set of steps down to the beach.

“Under the boardwalk,” you nod knowingly, which he parrots back with a smile. Beneath the boardwalk there was a gaggle of youth, looking slightly older than teenagers, some still in uniforms from boardwalk rides, some smoking, most looking intimidating, but when Colson asks them for a light, they seem to get much less hostile.

“Hey are you MGK?” One asks, and when Colson lights the half a joint he had from earlier, he nods. “Sick.” The kid nods sagely, before his gaze turns on you. “And you’re that Booth chick, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on Twitter.” It’s not hostile, it’s genuinely curious.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Eddie, that’s [Y/N], do you live under a rock?” One of the girls pipes up, decked out in black, with a thick piercing through her septum, and an intimidating amount of eyeliner. The boy, Eddie, flushes scarlet, and snaps that not everyone watches the same shit as her. “I’m Samara,” the girl offers with a grin, offering her hand to you, which you shake, more than a little pleased with their various reactions.

“I heard yous was boinking -” a third girl interrupts, wearing a boardwalk uniform and hitting a vape pen pretty hard.

“Emma!” More than one of them shout, though Samara is the loudest.

“Is boinking still the term?” Colson snorts, taking it all in stride, though he’s got an arm around you now, “Jesus fuck I feel ancient.”

“You are -” Emma interrupts, much to the rest of the group’s chagrin, but Colson just laughs.

“I’m twenty-seven you fucker!” He crows, and Emma cracks a smile, and takes another hit off of her vape pen. “Whatever,” he shrugs, “just tryin’ to show my girl everything LA has to offer.”

“So you come under the boardwalk?” Eddie asks, with a skepticism that made you all flustered at his insinuations.

“Can you blame us for wanting a bit of privacy?” Colson smirks, to which the group of youths all collectively ‘ooh’ at, and he gives your hip a squeeze.

“Try the one a quarter of a mile that way,” Samara points further down the beach, “less carnival, less people.” She winks, before adding, surprisingly hopefully, “but could we get like, a photo or something first?”

Of course you both agree, and among the group photos, you learn that they’re all working around town during winter break for college. Samara specifically asks for a photo with you, where she plants a kiss on your cheek, looking a little flustered herself, muttering a quiet thanks. You follow her back on Instagram, and she gives you this starry-eyed look.

“She’s got a crush on you,” Colson snickers as the two of you head down the beach, well and truly out of earshot of the others, and you smile, finally looking up from your phone, a little endeared at the young woman’s antics.

“Jealous?” You ask, loftily, and you expect him to laugh, but he goes quiet. When you turn to him, he’s regarding you with amusement, and something else you can’t quite identify. “Colson?” And you slow, now near enough to the next section of the boardwalk. As promised, it was rather secluded.

After a beat, he leans in and kisses you, soft and unexpected, but his lips fit against yours like you were made for each other. Leaning into him, you wrap your arms around him, letting him pull you close. Not exactly sure what triggered this, you’re just happy to lean into it, enjoying the moment. And then he’s pulling back, forehead resting against yours.

“You see the guy to our left who’s just left the group of kids under the boardwalk? Hawaiian shirt and expensive camera?” He asks quietly, and you glance out of the corner of eye, only to spot the exact person he’s talking about, you make a quiet noise of confirmation, and you keep up the ruse, hand coming up to cup his jaw, butterflies going ballistic in your stomach despite now knowing that it was obviously for show, “been following us for the past hour.”

“Fucking paps,” you hiss, but before your expression can sour, he kisses you again, gives you a squeeze, as if to remind you to put on a show of not noticing him. Much to your surprise, he bites gently at your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet but pleased noise that neither of you had expected, and when he leans back, he looks both surprised and kind of into it, what’s more unexpected is that the exact same expression is written all over your face too.

“Back to the boardwalk, uber back to the hotel?” You ask, resolutely not talking about what had happened, but still smiling and all up in his personal space.

“Love it, let’s get out of here,” and he takes your hand, and leads you back to the safety of the street. It’s the first time the two of you had kissed, not that you’d realised it in the morning, but it was good, you reflect, it felt like it made sense. If you’re a little more giddy than you probably should be on the way back, Colson doesn’t seem to notice, in fact, he’s grinning too, humming to himself.

There’s two posts, one right after the other on Samara’s Instagram story when you check it that night, after having briefly seen it in the uber on the way back to the hotel.

The first is a video captioned [gross thats my mom and dad] The video was pixelated as hell, and she hadn’t tagged either you or Colson, but you knew it was the two of you, wrapped up in each other, half a mile down the beach. In the background, her friends are arguing about something much closer, though one voice cuts through louder than the rest.

“Hey, Hawaiian shirt hipster paparazzi fuck! Yeah you! Give ‘em some fucking privacy!” And as the voice, who you think is Emma, shouts, Samara turns to focus the camera on the paparazzi Colson had spotted earlier, still incredibly zoomed in, capturing his sheepish, angry expression in all it’s rather pixelated glory.

“Fuck you kids!” He shouts back. Someone throws a can at him.

“Piss off!” Samara shouts, “we know you’re not taking photos of seagulls, cunt!” He goes to respond, but the group just starts chucking things at him. In the background, you can see yourself and Colson heading back up to street level, oblivious to what was going on.

The second post is a screenshot of a set of DMs between yourself and Samara.

@yourinstagramhandle mentioned you in their story

6:28pm

@yourinstagramhandle responded 😍 to your story @yourinstagramhandle: god i fucking love you guys, it was so great to meet you @unholy-samara-tin: 😅😅😅 it was the right thing to do lmao no stress he was a creepy fucker

It’s captioned [HOLY SHIT I’VE DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN].

You get dinner with Douglas and tell him about your day, and he gives you this sweet, if a little smug smile.

“You seem very happy.” He says, knowingly.

“I am, it was a good day!” You tell him, and he hums, but won’t say anything else on the matter. The conversation is taken up mostly by excitement regarding the makeup and costume fittings that they have over the next week and a half before filming starts, and then it’s back to your own rooms. At your door, Douglas calls out to you, three rooms away.

“It’s strange to see you so grown up, duckling,” he hasn’t called you that in so long, not since you were children, even your mother had abandoned that nickname for the mildly less embarrassing ‘Duck’ in the past few years, and while it warmed your heart, you couldn’t help but tense in anticipation for some sort of gentle, sibling embarrassment, probably to do with you sharing a room with your ‘boyfriend’.

“And?”

“And nothing,” he shrugged, “never thought you’d become cool is all, a star in your own right, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m cool, would you like me to give you some pointers?” You asked sweetly, and Douglas couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I walked into that one, didn’t I? Anyways, have a good rest of your night, Colson and Dan have gone out drinking.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” you tell him, and the two of you finally go into your separate bedrooms. He’s right, of course, there’s clothes strewn all over the bed, and the shower’s been recently used, and the whole little place has a warm, clean smell, like the last mist of some spiced cologne was still lingering in the air. The only light on is one of the bedside lights, and the lights of the city outside twinkle brightly, though you can’t see many stars for the light pollution. You crack the screen door to the balcony open, and shiver a little, though you tell yourself it’s from the cold, and not because the rather comforting and clean smells were quickly dissipating.

You are alone when you try to fall asleep on the plush but desperately uncomfortable sofa, alone and struggling to pass out with the bedside light still on, not wanting Colson to have to stumble around in the dark when he gets back. You spend almost a full hour on your phone blocking people who send you nasty DMs, and responding to a few kind ones, and you post a photo of the roof just captioned ‘cant sleep’.

It’s just gone one when the door clicks open, and Colson steps in, pretty well coordinated, and trying to keep quiet. But then there’s you, staring back at him in the lamp light.

“Hey.”

Awkward silence.

“Why are you on the sofa?” He asks, hauling his bag from the bed, shoving his loose clothes in haphazardly, before patting down his pockets. “Sorry if I woke you,” it’s almost an afterthought, and he pulls out a box of cigarettes.

“You didn’t,” you tell him with a yawn that says otherwise, but you power through it, “and I didn’t want to intrude.”

He casts a dubious glance at how you’re angled on the sofa, but doesn’t say anything, and opens the sliding door wider to sit on the porch and have his cigarette. Without even hesitating, you join him, and your spine thanks you the moment you stand.

“Nice night?” You ask, sitting out on the balcony with him.

“Nice night,” he agrees, adding, “nice day all around.” And something about it makes your heart flutter. “You know you can take the bed; I’d rather sleep on the floor than have you get scoliosis.”

“I don’t think that’s how scoliosis works,” you say with a huff of laughter, but he just hums, “and you don’t need to do that, I’m fine,” you try to insist.

“You know you’re welcome to just share the bed, it’s fucking massive, I feel like I’ll get lost in it,” he actually yawns, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“So you want me to, what, ground you somehow?”

“I just wanna know that if I roll over in the night and there’s something solid there, that it’s your arm and not like, the lightpost in fuckin’ Narnia,” he tells you, and breathes out a lung full of smoke. You watch it hang in the air, pale and silver in the light of the moon.

“We’re gonna be in the tabloids tomorrow,” you tell him quietly.

“No-one reads tabloids anymore, we’re gonna be on like, those snapchat news things,” he says, and laughs but it doesn’t sound very amused. “Have you been getting less shit?”

“Actually,” you consider, “yeah, most of your fans are mad supportive when you ask them to be. What about you?”

“Your fans are cute, you know that? I was scrolling through twitter and I saw a whole bunch of photos of us like, photoshopped together,” he paused to chuckle, “some had flower crowns.” You can hear the smile in his words, and he seems quite enamored by the phenomenon. It’s a nice moment; he’s drunk and a little high and you’re exhausted, and you fall into bed like it’s a sitcom.

“Tell your spine I said ‘you’re fucking welcome’,” he tells you, and it’s so absurd that you laugh, even as you pull the covers up over you and snuggle in, comfortable as all hell, before turning the light off.

Then, there’s movement, and a loud ‘thwap’ as Colson’s hand comes to knock your shoulder, landing on top of the duvet.

“Narnia?” He asks, and you give a small smile in the dark.

“Just me.”

You wake in the morning to the sound of Colson’s alarm, or more accurately, his groaning at his alarm. And swearing. And muttered ‘fucking makeup tests’.

He’s dragging himself into the shower while you relish your days off, nose and eyes peaking out from the covers when he comes out of the shower wrapped in a towel. The two of you make direct eye contact before you mutter a flustered apology and flip away from him, though he doesn’t seem to know how to react, just quietly getting dressed. The rest of his morning routine passes mostly in silence, before you hear him open the door.

“If you wanna get like, lunch or dinner or something, lemme know, or I’ll let you know if the boys are organising something,” he tells you, and you call out a sleepy thanks in response. The door closes. Silence. You could go back to sleep, but you’re curious about the turn around time for paparazzi media, and you were not disappointed.

MTV’s snapchat story posted “MGK and New Boo [Y/N] Booth Caught Getting Steamy Under the Boardwalk” the headline.

The self-proclaimed ‘Rap Devil’ Machine Gun Kelly, best known for his album bloom, has managed to find himself locking lips with YouTube’s darling [Y/N] Booth, though you may know her best as the vlogger, and entertainment industry insider, DuckDuckBooth.

It seems new media’s hottest couple have finally landed in LA after their surprising hookup in Louisiana, set to continue working on some mysterious project that they keep hinting at, and they seem to still be going strong!

The pair were caught after a cute date along the Hollywood seaside -

[And here they’d entered your Instagram story, from the Tunnel of Love, as well as Colson’s Twitter picture of you with the fairy floss.]

- after meeting a group of fans, they found somewhere a little more private to get a little bit romantic in a way that 90s kids truly will appreciate; making out under a boardwalk. It feels like it should be ripped straight from a John Hughes movie set in Hollywood.

However unlikely this pair may be, you can’t deny that they’re cute together.

[And here’s those traitorous, and almost painfully HD photos of yourself and Colson, wrapped up in each other, that the paparazzi had taken the day before, though with the legs of the boardwalk, as well as the ocean and the sunset as your backdrop, the photos themselves are surprisingly stunning.]

“Fucking paps,” you mutter under your breath, and screenshot the photo anyways. If it’s your lock screen, well, it’s what any real girlfriend would do, right?

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #douglas booth #douglas booth & reader #The Dirt #the dirt imagine #the dirt cast #the angry lizard writes #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader

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