#would like to fold more new things instead of refolds though

[paperzest]

Another Bahamut because I needed a dragon that would be more manageable to fold for now. Folded from a square of hanji, about 60 cm, painted with purple and green before folding.

Wanted to do a pose where he was standing on top of something but haven't found a good object for that yet, so I just used a hair scrunchie as a placeholder.

[zeydaan-isabella]

An American Were-Isabella

Commission for and story by GreyHawk89 - based on the 'American Werewolf in London' poster- with Isabella instead.

It was getting close to ten o'clock as I left Harrod's, so I quickened my pace as I made my way back to the hotel. Fortunately it was on Cromwell Road along with all the other places I'd visited today, so at least I wasn't likely to get lost. The legendary department store had certainly had it's impressive aspects and of course history, but it was still ultimately a store. Maybe I'd have found it 'cooler' if I'd lived and visited way back when you could go buy literally anything there. Or maybe I'd have liked it better if I'd been rich enough to actually afford any of their cooler merchandise? Well, the couple of snacks I'd bought in the food court had still been nice. The Natural History Museum was alright , but in the end not really different from any of the big nature museums I'd visited in any other big city, like the one in New York. On the other Hand, I'd really liked the V&A, with it's massive collection of items, err, 'acquired' back in the glory days of the Empire. I'd passed the V&A and had mostly passed the NHM when I stopped to pull out and examine my map. Let's see, tomorrow morning was going to be a long tour of... Hyde Park. Okay. Though, why the English would name a large public park after a creep like Mister Hyde, that I didn't know. I was attempting to re-fold my map when I became aware of an odd whistling noise, then there was the cracking on many tree branches followed by a thud of impact somewhere in the garden area surrounding the museum. Once I'd stopped freaking out, I finished refolding the map and carefully started walking towards the impact site. I'd just barely entered beneath the canopy of trees when someone rushed out at me! It was a middle-aged man in ratty clothes. He stunk of alcohol and groaning something made hard to understand due to his thick rural English accent. He looked around wildly, shoving me back towards the lights and traffic of Cromwell. "Stick to the road! Beware, the maid!" he slurred, then stumbled past fearfully. "...The hell does THAT mean?" I muttered to myself, then pressed on with a shrug. Like I'd listen to ramblings of some drunk! Slowly and carefully I crept towards whatever it was had landed in the garden. I became aware of a faint pink-and-golden glow coming from the area. What could that be? The glow got brighter and brighter as I approached it's source. I was at the edge of the small impact crater, I pushed a large leafy branch aside and beheld!- I very strange sight indeed. A tall woman(?) dressed as a maid lay at the bottom of the small pit. She was the source of the glow. Well, if I was in a drunken stupor and a maid had fallen out of the sky and nearly landed on top of me, I guess I'd want to 'beware the maid' as well. There was something very odd about her but the bright glow obscured her features. There was something off about her face and she was laying on a couple of rolled-up blankets of dresses or something? Suddenly, she shifted and groaned a very unpleasant groan. The glow began diminishing, sinking back into her body, giving me a better look at her. I'll be damned. What the heck was she? All her exposed skin as yellow, her hair was pink, her face stuck out into a reptilian snout, and the things I'd mistaken for blankets laying under her were a tail and pair of wings. Did a DRAGON just fall out of the sky right near me? Maybe not a full dragon, since she was human-shaped and about my own height. That or she'd shape-changed to look more human in public? It didn't really matter which. I was no dashing prince here to save a fair maiden, but I saw a person in trouble, and felt the need to help her. But, was she injured? Was moving her even a safe idea though?...Hmm, the impact itself hadn't killed her, so... Standing next to her, I leaned down and carefully helped her to her feet. "Are you alright Miss? That was quite a landing you had here. What happened?" "I just wanted to become bees." she said weakly. Again, the hell did THAT mean? "Still not bees," she half-sobbed as I helped her walk up the slight slope out of the pit. "Never gonna be bees..." Despite making no goddamn sense, at least her voice was getting stronger and steadier. A woman's voice, but very deep and husky, deeper than that actress who played Brienne on GoT. Couldn't place her accent either, but then, I WAS just an American tourist after all. "What's your name?" I asked. "Are you hurt? What do bees have to do with how you got here?"  She blinked big pink eyes and looked around, looked at me. "I'm!-uh, who're you? Where am I? Where's Mum?"  For whatever reason, I answered the second question first. "London." I tried to remember the neighborhood. "Um, Kensington? South Kensington? The grounds of the Natural History Museum on Cromwell Road." Her eyes widened and she gulped, wings flaring out. "London!? I was with Mum at Stonehenge! How'd I get all the way, all the waaUURGH!" She clutched her stomach and doubled over. With a wet retch, she burped up a burst of the glowing energy that'd been illuminating her body just a minute ago. "Out, it wants out, I need to!-" She snapped back up straight so violently it was a wonder she didn't break her spine doing so. Her pink eyes glowed red. Her mouth opened and closed rapidly. Words were coming out of it, in an unfamiliar language, and far too rapidly to be understood even if I had recognized it. Was it even HER that was trying to talk right now? Or something else inside her? She stepped forward unsteadily, like a zombie, glowing eyes suddenly fixed on me intently. I guessed what was going to happen a split second before it did. I stepped back and raised my arm in front of my face. Mouth opened wide, she lunged, her jaws clamped down on that arm like a vice, teeth punching through my jacket sleeve and puncturing my skin. I screamed in shock, but she didn't let go, instead shaking her head back and forth, worrying at my arm like a rabid dog. She made weird, warbling noises as she did so. I could feel the teeth in my flesh, but not yet any pain. Not yet. I yelled and smacked her hard on her snout with my free arm, as hard as I could. Despite her jaws being fixed closed on my arm I could still hear the weird language coming from her mouth. I sounded vaguely like Irish or Scottish, something Gaelic, spoken by someone on helium at triple speed. The creepiest aspect of her attack was her eyes. They remained glowing red, wide open, and fixed on my face- no matter how much her head shook back and forth, those eyes shifted so as to always be locked in a stare with mine. There was nothing intelligent in those eyes. Maybe not even emotion. Just... energy. There was a loud POP, and an explosion of light in the air just above us. "MY SWEET FLEDGLING!!" shrieked a voice that sounded much like hers had. Something big (bigger than either of us anyway) and yellow dropped down next to us and stuck it's arms in-between us, pulling us apart. The maid finally let go, and me and her fell back and away.  I clutched my hurt arm and stared. It was another dragon, about the size of a pony. Less anthropomorphic. Yellow scales, black hair, wearing a blue witch's hat, pink belt, and blue.. loincloth-thing. In spite of the differences, there were enough similarities that I could clearly tell that this was 'Mum'. "What'd you do to my daughter? Why'd she attack you?" She demanded, wings flared to make her look bigger. Behind her, her daughter groaned and stumbled around on her high-heeled feet. "What'd I do to HER?" I almost laughed, but was too angry. "She landed in the trees, I helped her up, she said something about bees, tried to puke, then went crazy and bit me!" I pulled the torn sleeve of jacket back tp examine the wounds. Seven or eight small circular punctures on my forearm leaked red. The pain was starting to hit now, the adrenaline wearing off. I staggered and tried to put the sudden fire I felt in my arm out by waving it around and swearing. "That doesn't sound very much like something my Izzy would do." the dragon said doubtfully as she glared at me- but it was a worried doubt, not an angry doubt of denial. "Hmph." She turned around and looked at 'Izzy'. The dragon-maid was still wobbly, but the glow had left her eyes, which were blinking in confusion and exhaustion. "Where da FERK am I right now? Why am not bees?" She peered at the bigger dragon. "Muuummm?" she whined, then flopped forward. She would have hit the ground face-first if her mother hadn't been faster, grabbing her and holding her in her arms (forelegs? she was still humanoid enough that I guessed I could call them arms). "I never should've tried it. My poor sweet fledging. Wanted to bees, of all things, so badly. All the extra fey energy I summoned up, only for it to reject her and punt her halfway across the country!" The mother dragon gave a sob and cradled her unconscious child against her. Despite my pain, I was a little bit moved by the sight. "She went crazy and chomped down on my arm like it was her favorite food. Weird gibberish words coming out of her mouth." I winced and rubbed my wounded arm, but couldn't make it feel less bad. Izzy's mother turned back to me. "Oh dear, oh dear." She narrowed her eyes at the blood. Her eyes were red, unlike the pink Izzy's eyes had started out as, but like the red they had been when she freaked out. "Overloaded with magic, body and mind. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. Let me heal you, please?" I paused, then held out my arm hopefully. "Uh, alright?" She said something under her breath-was it my imagination or did it sound similar to the weird language that had come out of her daughter when she was ...possessed, for lack of a better word? There was light, and the pain ended. My torn jacket sleeve even repaired itself. "Huh, better than expected!" The dragon chirped happily. "Oh! I'm Cynthia, by the way. This is Isabella." She kissed the top of her daughter's head, between the horns. "Oh, well, I'm-" I was interrupted by Isabella giving a loud moan and writhing in her mother's grasp. Cynthia made a face that, in spite of being stretched out over a reptilian snout, was the picture of maternal concern. "Oh, she's still a little bit messed up. I think she expelled all the excess fey-dragon energy she absorbed though. Sometimes, you just have to accept that you're never going to become bees, and that's that." Dumbfounded, I merely nodded my head in agreement. I'd heard that dragons could be strange, but had chalked it up to lingering bigoted attitudes towards them. If I knew the full story, then maybe it would all make sense. "Well, thank you for healing my arm. And I hope that your daughter makes a full recovery from... whatever that was." I was as sincere as I could. I was still mad at Izzy for biting me, but if she literally hadn't been in her right mind, well, I was still angry right now, but could probably forgive her once I had time to cool down.  "Yes, yes, better take her home, right now!" Cynthia hugged Isabella to herself tighter, then everything... swirled. The dragons, the air, the area. It swirled until it swirled away into itself, and everything was back to normal. Except the dragons; they had vanished. I was still in a bit of shock, and remained standing there for a few minutes. "Hell of a night." I still needed to go back to the hotel, and arguably needed to get some sleep even more than before. "Geez." I pulled back my sleeve to re-examine my formerly bloody arm in the pale moonlight. Instead of red holes, there were yellow spots in my skin, but at least the skin itself was whole and un-punctured. Hope it faded away with time. "Huh." I shook my head and walked as fast as I could back to the hotel. Going inside, I went to my room, brushed my teeth, took off my clothes and practically threw myself into my bed. Hopefully, this American's second night in London would not be as wild and crazy as my first night had ended... A FEW DAYS LATER... Isabella stared at her exact double, who had a terribly woebegone expression on his... her... their... face. Cynthia sat at the nearby table, sipping some tea and watching her new 'daughter' with nervous eyes. "So you can't change back?" Not-Isabella shrugged. "I dunno. If I can, I don't know how. Don't know what 'muscle' to flex or something at the very least." Her words were slow, deliberate, and slightly slurred due to being unaccustomed to speaking with an an elongated reptilian snout filled with fangs and a long tongue to fit. "Probably lack of experience and understanding of the core magics involved with transfiguration." Cynthia suggested in a chirpy tone. "Yes, quite possibly." Not-Isabella replied dryly with a roll of their eyes. "Tried becoming a human male again, nothing. Tried just becoming a human but staying a girl, nothing. Tried just becoming male again but staying a pink-yellow dragon, nothing. The one time I did manage to change into something else, it was just this weird result that made me want to change back into a yellow dragon girl immediately." Isabella grinned and perked up. "Oh, you DID manage at least one transformation? Well, that's a start! Show me and Mum what you can do, and it'll give us something to start working with." Not-Isabella raised an eyebrow. "I REALLY don't know, it was... ugh. Just bizarre! But okay, I'll try." She closed her eyes and concentrated.  There was a hot, pink, POOF! and where Not-Isabella had once stood was now a buzzing mass of thousands of tiny bees, all with itty-bitty little yellow, pink-haired horned Isabella faces on them. Isabella blinked, absorbed this sight, then reacted with the proper amount of poise, grace, and British Stiff-Upper-Lipness that the situation called for. "Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you!" she screamed, while wildly waving around a rolled-up newspaper, swatting as many bees out of the air as she could. Cynthia spat out her tea. "DEAR!"

[pbandjesse]

I had a good day off. The tip of my nose is still red but the other spot on my cheek seems to have cleared up. Still makes me nervous. I am going to ask for advice on Monday. I was also still really itchy!! No idea what's up.

I slept way better last night though. I woke up to say goodbye to James and to ask to have more covers. But then slept well for a few more hours.

I woke up at 930. And I felt pretty good! I got up and felt cute and good. I got washed and dressed and felt happy.

I wasn't hungry yet so I spent some time cleaning. Vacuumed and put away some stuff away. And then ate the leftover chips I had from dinner last night.

And then I just into my clothes organizing. I had a lot of stress around this. I would enjoy the actual sorting but it was a lot of work.

I got all my clothes and jackets out and sorted it by type. But I have done so well getting rid of stuff the last few months there was not a lot I actually wanted to get rid of! But I still wanted to move some stuff away. So I went through each thing and folded it. I was getting a little confused because I had a few things to think about for future packing. Me and Jess camping. Honeymoon. Summer camp. So I didn't pull things out to make outfits for those like I originally planned. And instead just organized. All my shirts refolded. New pieces picked to hang up. My bottoms put away with the dresses. I really tried hard. And the closet looks so nice now.

I did make outfits for this week. And feel nice about that.

I had some leftovers. My sandwich from the other day. And got into some knitting. I want to try to go through a bunch of my yarn this year. And so am I got out my long skinny loom. We'll see in hat it turns into.

I worked on that until 1. And decided I would go for a drive. I wore my new sandals. And didn't wear a coat even though I probably should have. But I had a sweater and would be fine.

I drove out to savers. Haven't been there for a bit so it was fun. I just loved looking around. I found a lot of silly stuff. I sort of regret not getting the beanie ark because it made me laugh so much. These beanies are for the lord!!! I did get the purple large beanie that is just an employee? I love them. Such a pretty color.

I also found a dress I loved. I may also use it for the renfair but it's such a lovely thick material. Long black. Sadly no pockets but I could add them in. The thing that made me laugh though is the brand tag was about dressing modestly. So I am going to wear it this week with my bondage style straps.

I was in line for a while. But I wasn't in a rush. I had a coupon so I got $5 off. And was happy. And then I headed home.

I got back here around 230. I brought my stuff in after I cleaned all the trash out of the car. And would spend some time cleaning a small cabinet I got. Which had like. Loose tea all inside of it. But it was $5 so a little cleaning wasn't a huge deal.

I would have the rest of my chipotle and make blue jello because for some reason I'm obsessed with it right now. And then it was time to go back to my knitting.

I worked on that until James got home. They would pretty quickly went back out to get milk and bread. And I kept knitting.

When they got home the second time they laid in bed with me and we watched tiktoks together. It was a really nice afternoon.

James made dough for pizza. And we would have that pizza for dinner. And after that I would take a nice hot bath with lots of oil and watched a scary video.

I have been in bed with Sweetp for a while now. And James was playing a game with their friend. But they are done that now. And are going to come join me in bed soon.

Tomorrow I have another day off. I don't plan on going anywhere tomorrow. I hope it's just a restful day. I hope you all have a good day. Sleep well! Be safe!!

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Closing Time (Johnny Utah x fem!reader)

Summary: You work at a clothing store, you get a last minute customer at closing time and sexy tims happen.

Pairing: Johnny Utah x fem!reader

Author’s Notes: So I’m slowly getting back to writing. I’m not gonna say I’m fully back just yet, but for this week at least, there will be content! Huge thanks to @toomanystoriessolittletime and @meetmeinthematinee​ for being cheerleaders and giving me early feedback on this! 

Wordcount: 3125

Warnings: smut. oral sex (F! receiving); dirty talk; unprotected sex with strangers (don’t do this kids!); sex in inappropriate places.

Most days you quite enjoyed it when there was barely any movement at the store. It gave you the opportunity of just being by yourself, reading a book, or enjoying some music or studying for college, things that you didn’t always have the privacy of doing at your dorm because your roommate seemed to always be around. Even during the summer and what was up with that? Didn’t she have better things to do?

She wasn’t like you, who actually had to work to put yourself through college and took some extra jobs during the summer so you could have some savings for the following term when all you managed to get were part-time jobs that you had fit in between classes and paid shit.

Fortunately, at the shop, you had some peace and time for yourself. It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall sort of place around Venice Beach where tourists could get some shirts and other knickknacks to take back home and locals surfers could find cheap clothing and supplies for a day out on the beach. Most days, you worked from 9-5 and after your shift, you could head to the beach, spread your towel on the sand and enjoy the gorgeous Californian sunset. However, as the summer winded out and the fall winds blew the scalding hot weather into simmering heat, your boss let you close a little early, especially on Tuesdays, when most tourists had already headed home and the new arrivals hadn’t landed yet so there were barely any customers around.

Your plan today had been to finish your reading for class and start the new crime thriller you picked up at the used books store on your way to work. Except, today you were just too restless to focus. You must have reread the same paragraph of your textbook twenty times before you gave up and set it aside, giving the other book a go, but it was just as unsuccessful at holding your attention.

So instead, you moved around the cramped space, adjusting the decoration items, dusting off shelves, and refolding every single shirt in the display until it was perfectly symmetrical while you willed time to move faster so you could end this day. Maybe it was the heatwave that had made an appearance turning the air in the shop stifling and all you had to help you was an old and slow fan that made more noise than blow air. The A/C was busted and your boss still hadn’t called someone to fix it.

Another possibility was the fact that you had to keep the glass doors opened to help circulate a little air and every time any kind of wind blew or someone walked in, it brought with them the crisp smell of salt and sand that always made you ache for the ocean and fight against the temptation of just abandoning everything and heading for the beach so you could cool off taking a dip in the deliciously cold water. Either way, you kept checking the slow ticking of the clock hands, counting the seconds before you could turn the closed sign.

When the minute hand finally hit twelve, you let out a cheer, jumping off your stool and taking a step towards the door. You always locked the doors first to discourage most last-minute walk-ins while you closed the register, put away the money in the back office safe, and slipped out of the store through the back door, taking any garbage with you to throw in the dumpster outside.

Before you could move from behind the counter, a man stepped into the store and you groaned low in your throat. Of-fucking-course! It was like they stood in wait to come in at the precise moment you were about to head out.

“Hey, you’re still open, right?” He asked, pushing the overgrown dark hair back from his forehead and offering you an unsure smile. You felt the urge to lie and say that no, you were closed and he should come back tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure.” You said instead placing your best and most fake seller’s smile. “Feel free to look around and let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks!” He replied, flashing a wider smile that showed a small dimple, before moving towards the shirts in the display while you made your way to the main entrance, flipped the sign, and locked the door to bar any other walk-ins.

You hung back while the guy browsed the options, taking a moment to assess him. He didn’t look like a tourist, but also not fully like a local. Most Californian guys that you knew had the most horrifying hair cuts or bleach jobs you had ever seen and that was not the case for the man in front of you.

His hair was dark brown, a little shaggy from too much exposure to sun and salt and it flopped a little over his forehead, just above his eyes. He wore a grey cropped t-shirt that had definitely seen better days and struggled to contain his broad shoulders, showing a peek of toned abs. His jeans were ridiculously tight and hung low on his slender hips, the light-wash of the denim accentuating the perfect bubble butt and for the love of God, you needed to get laid. Badly.

“Excuse me,” he called, startling you and you prayed he hadn’t noticed the way you were checking his ass just now. “Do you have this one in black?”

“Yeah, sure.” You moved towards the drawers. “What’s your usual size? Medium or large?”

“I think large should be good,” he replied and when you turned around with the requested shirt, he was just standing there, barechested, his top hanging from his shoulder and you hoped your gasp wasn’t as loud as it sounded in your head.

“Here you go,” you croaked, offering him the shirt. “We do have a fitting room…” you gestured towards the small cubicle to the rear of the store.

“Oh right!” He glanced over as he pulled the shirt on. “Do you mind if I try them out here, though?”

“Not at all,” you forced your voice to sound somewhat normal.

“Awesome!”

Damn! He wasn’t just fucking hot. He was also cute, the wide grin he just flashed giving him a boyish look that was only enhanced by the almond-shaped chocolate-colored eyes. Biting your lip, you watched as he turned side to side in front of the mirror, checking himself out.

“It think is a little too big,” he said, meeting your gaze. “What do you think?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat and moved closer so you could look at him through the mirror. “If you want it more fitted, then yeah, probably a smaller size would be best. Want me to get it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Once again, by the time you turned back to him, he was shirtless, the garment he had just tried neatly folded and resting on the shelf as he took a look at some other shirts, his attention snapping at you when he noticed you coming closer to hand him the new shirt, giving you a glimpse of a pale, sunken scar running down his abs that stopped just above his belly button and that drew attention to the small trail of fine dark hairs that disappeared under the waist of his jeans and holy shit! He was bare beneath those jeans.

“Bike accident,” he commented as he took the shirt that you offered and you met his eyes in confusion.

“What?” You asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“The scar,” he clarified, putting on the shirt and his lips were tilted into a slight smirk. “That was what you were staring at, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, feeling your face burning. “I’ll just head to the register and give you some privacy.”

I don’t mind,” he shrugged, turning to the mirror. “This is better. What do you think?” He turned towards you, giving you a full view of the cotton fabric covering his muscles, looking almost as if painted on him.

“Sure...” you swallowed hard, trying not to stare. “If you prefer it more fitted...”

“I do,” pulling the shirt off and once again giving you the glorious view of his torso. “I’ll take it.”

You took the shirt to the register and he followed, pausing only to pick up his own, which he had discarded on a nearby hanger. You were expecting him to put it back on, but he just threw it over his shoulder, reaching for his wallet as you registered the sale and tried not to stare.

“Is that the only camera you have around here?” He asked, gesturing to a point above your left and you glanced at the object before nodding, exchanging the money he gave you for the paper bag with his purchase.

“Yeah, why?”

“So basically...” he started, taking a step to the side, closer to the fitting room. “I’m completely out of sight over here?”

“Basically, yeah,” you frowned a little, stepping away from the counter. “Why? Are you planning to rob the place? Because let me tell you, there’s not much worth...” You trailed off with a surprised squeak as he tugged on your hand, pulling you over to the blindspot and nearly pressed against his strong chest.

“Because honestly, I never really gave a fuck about the shirt. I just thought you were beautiful and wanted to ask your number when I walked in, but you looked kind pissed so I got cold feet,” he confessed with a rueful smile.

“So you decided to just get mostly naked in front of me?” You snorted, shaking your head and he shrugged.

“Needed to make sure you might be interested and considering the way you were eyeing me earlier, it looked like you saw something you liked.”

“You’re really sure of yourself, aren’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at him, not ready to concede just yet. Even if the heat of his body and the smell of sea breeze whiffing off his skin were driving you crazy.

“Only when I’m right,” he flashed you a lopsided smirk and just waited, gazing into your eyes, making it clear that the next step was yours.

Part of you screamed that it was crazy to even consider hooking up with a guy that just walked into your store, no matter how hot he was, but it had been a ridiculously long time since you last had sex and he was so fucking hot, the scent of his golden skin intoxicating and his heat was making you dizzy with want as you looked him up and down, noticing the volume pressing against the denim of his pants.

“We might not have cameras, but the windows are see-through, so get your ass to the fitting room while I finish closing up.”

He flashed a victorious smirk and nodded, heading towards the back while you rushed through the steps of securing the store before joining him.

Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you made your way towards the back, pushing away the curtain that blocked the small space of the fitting room and finding him perched on the low stool that you kept there so customers could put down their things, facing the full-length mirror, legs spread, jeans undone, revealing the bush of dark hairs surrounding his long and thick cock.

You nearly whimpered at the sight, your center pulsing in want as you leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he run his left hand up and down his shaft, head tilted back, breathing hard, eyes hooded. He was such a beautiful and debauched sight that you felt the urge to photograph him, capture that sensuality.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch?” He asked, eyes meeting yours through the reflective surface.

“You seemed to be doing fine on your own,” you teased stepping into the tight space, fingers itching to touch all that glorious skin.

“I did not just spend most of my afternoon at the corner diner, drinking burned coffee just to jerk off in front of you,” he declared, standing up and turning your way.

“Ohhh, so this was premeditated?” You asked, kicking off your sneakers as he reached for you and you stumbled against his chest.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, large hand hot against your hips and you wanted to feel it against your flesh. “You probably don’t remember, but I was here last week and you had to bend over to get something from one of the lower drawers...” he let out a soft groan, hands moving to your ass and squeezing lightly. “Fuck! I don’t think I ever popped a boner so fast in my life. I had to get out.”

You vaguely remembered that. There was so much coming and going in this place, it was hard to keep track of faces, but customers just taking off after asking to see something usually caused an impression. If you weren’t about to get fucked after six months, you would be more pissed.

“So you decided to come back when I was alone and seduce me?” you asked, running your hands over his chest and abs, scratching it slightly and goosebumps rose in his skin as he hissed.

“Yeah,” he spoke in a low voice as his hands move to the button of your jeans. “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he slid your fly down and your breath caught in your throat. “I thought about bending you over that counter and fucking you until you’re screaming.” His fingers skimmed over your cunt, just a soft touch, but you gasped and arched your hips forward, holding onto his arms to steady yourself. “I thought about it eating your pussy and your ass until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Those words were whispered right against your ear, before he changed your positions, crowding you against the mirror and pushing your jeans down to your thighs before he once against skimmed his fingers over covered sex, making you ache for him.

“What do you think about that?” He asked, lips brushing your cheek in an almost chaste kiss, completely opposed to the lewdness of his hand exploring your cunt. “Do you want it?”

“If you’re as good with your tongue at eating pussy like you are at talking dirty, then I maybe I do,” you declared, tired of his teasing and you felt his smirk as he gracefully slid to his knees in front of you.

You didn’t manage to get another word out before he shoved your panties down to join your jeans and his lips firmly connected to your clit. He gave it a sharp suck and you groaned, burying your fingers into his hair to keep yourself on your feet as your brain short-circuited and your knees turned to jelly.

He was very good at eating you out, especially because he was very attentive to every sound you made, every tightening of your grip on his hair, and roll of your hips to nudge him into going faster or slower, harder or softer... It wasn’t long before he reached that perfect alternation of fast flickering against your clit and slower and broad strokes of his tongue over your entrance and lips, a combination that drove you crazy.

You were whimpering and moaning, legs quaking with the alternating urge to close them around his face to keep him trapped there pleasuring you forever or spreading them wider so he could have more space to work, but the edges of your jeans were digging into the lower part of your knees, signaling you that that was as far as they could go.

As if reading your thoughts or maybe he just realized he would need more room, he shoved your pants down and helped you to kick them off so you could be completely free of the garment. And didn’t you two looked like a mismatched pair, with you standing there wearing only your top while he knelt in front of you, his jeans still on.

Once your pants were off, he hooked your right thigh over his shoulder, pressing his mouth even harder against your cunt, flickering his tongue over your clit before dipping it in between your lips, gathering the juices soaking your sex like a starved man.

“Fuck! I’m so close...” you hissed, rolling your hips, seeking more because that tight knot deep inside you was about to snap and from the way you ached and shuddered, your muscles tensing, you knew it would be a hard one.

“Yeah?” He mumbled against your core, his breath against your overheated skin making you shiver as he pushed two fingers inside you. “Gonna cum all over my mouth?”

He pistoled his fingers in and out at a fast pace, crooking inwards with every down motion, his tongue matching his rhythm against your clit and it was that made you snap as you bit down on your fist to stop yourself from shouting as your body was flooded with pleasure and all you knew was the unbelievable bliss that surrounded you. Stars bust behind your closed lids, the air came out of your lungs in short gushes as you fought hard not to slide down to the ground because your legs felt like jelly.

“Ok?” he asked, making you finally snap your eyes open to look at him.

He was sitting on his heels, face still glistening with your orgasm, his lips swollen and red from the abuse. His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking and you really wanted to return the favor.

“Way better than ok,” you replied with a gasp. “My turn?” To your surprise, he shook his head and got to his feet.

“Tonight, the only place I’m cumming is in that pussy,” he announced against your ear and shivered with anticipation. “So let’s get out of this fucking store and go to my place?”

“Fuck yes!” you grinned breathlessly at him as you reached for your jeans and he buttoned his over his hard cock and that couldn’t be comfortable.

“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he said. “Johnny Utah. Just in case you want to know what to shout when I fuck your brains out later.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky smirk and moved closer to him, once fully clothed, the only evidence of your recent climax was the sweat cooling on your skin and the stupid grin that refused to leave your face.

“I think I like you more when your mouth is busy with something other than talking,” you declared and before Johnny could manage a reply, you silenced him with a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue.

xxx

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[tsuraiwrites]

Welcome! For DADW, "Don’t you trust me?"

thank you for your prompt! a little gen piece for @dadrunkwriting

Fic: A Matter of Trust

“Aw, come on, don’t you trust me?” Hawke asks, her expression falling when Fenris vocalizes his disgust.

“With my life, yes. With fashion, not in the least.” Fenris eyes the frilly white collar of the garment she holds with great disdain. 

“I think you would look absolutely adorable in the ruffles!” Merrill pipes up, refolding a bright orange satin houserobe neatly to replace it on its stack. The Hightown stall owner eyes their triad warily but says nothing. The Champion has a reputation for paying in full for wares, barely haggling at all no matter how much Varric scolds her for it, and even Hightown merchants have gotten used to her motley company in exchange for the coin. 

“Not on your life,” he tells them, words as firm in the face of their dismay. 

Hawke pouts at him, but her every hint of disapproval doesn’t scratch at his insides the way it used to in the early days of their acquaintance, so he ignores her easily enough. 

“How are we supposed to find you clothes if you keep rejecting everything we suggest?” she asks, tossing the ruffled monstrosity back on its own stack. Unlike Merrill, her folds are sloppy and come half undone with her motion – the merchant purses her lips but again doesn’t censure Hawke for it.

“It was not my idea to procure new clothing. That was all you, Hawke.”

Hawke snorts, peering through the mound of clothes as if the perfect outfit for Fenris will materialize if she looks hard enough. 

“Hey, like I said, you need more clothes than just the armor.” 

“The armor is fine.”

“You don’t want to wear something more comfortable?” Merrill questions, coming around to poke at the leather spikes on his pauldrons.

“The armor is comfortable.” Fenris crosses his arms, taking a step out of her reach.

“Come on Fenris, you deserve to indulge yourself a little,” she cajoles, yanking a sky blue tunic out from another stack and nearly sending the whole thing tumbling down. She holds it up in front of him to check the fit, but considering it looks more suited for a man Carver’s size it’s no surprise when she discards it the next moment. 

“Indulge myself.” He fits his mouth around the words experimentally, 

“Yeah, just. The only thing I’ve seen you really invest time in is fighting and wine, and the wine is still shit you’re pulling out of the cellar instead of buying something you prefer.”

“I also spend much of my time reading,” he says for the sake of argument. 

“Yeah, but you don’t collect any books.” 

“Do you have a point?”

“I’m just saying…” she pauses for a long moment, clearly weighing her words, and when she speaks her voice has that measured tone he’s used to hearing when she speaks of the most serious of matters. “Danarius is dead now and he can’t send more hunters after you. I figured maybe if you didn’t feel like you have to watch your back all the time now, you could, you know, reflect that. You don’t collect anything that could weigh you down – you’re still prepared to run, if you have to. But you don’t have to, now,” Hawke asserts, her bright eyes burning into his as she holds his gaze. 

Stunned, Fenris realizes his mouth is open with nothing to say and he snaps it shut again, swallowing. 

“I… suppose not,” he finally admits. It’s not as if he’s given no thought to his own freedom – never does a day go by when he doesn’t make note of the small things he’d never been able to have before his freedom; the ability to buy things with his own coin not the least of them. Still, he’s given little thought to the fact that he still wears the armor so generously gifted to him by his former master. He looks down at himself, the black leather and chestplate nicked and repaired by his own hand over the course of years, but still miraculously standing the test of battle. It’s almost a second skin to Fenris these days, only ever taken off to sleep, and sometimes not even then. 

He casts his eye then over the assortment of clothing with a critical eye, really taking in the array for the first time – dresses in jewel-bright tones line the outskirts of the stall, and the rest is a set of tables containing all manner of trousers, chemises, tunics, shirts, robes, and housecoats all jumbled together. On giving it serious consideration for the first time, the thought of making an actual choice, picking something from all the variety, is nearly overwhelming. 

Hawke must see something of his feelings on his face, because she moves to squeeze his arm in a gesture of comfort. 

“Hey, we’re here to help you. Let’s start from one end and see if there’s anything that catches your eye.”

Not knowing what else to say, Fenris replies: 

“Thank you, Hawke. You’re a good friend. Though be assured I will be taking both your opinions with a handful of salt.”

Hawke only laughs.

[atmostories]

Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Matter - Chapter Four Tags: Angst, Gender-Neutral, Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Depression Something warm was rubbing the back of your hand. It felt nice, really nice. It was going back and forth across your skin, sometimes in circles, sometimes in lines. It was. . .comforting. . . - “Hey. Hey.” A hand on your shoulder was gently shaking you. You grumbled unhappily at the noise and the movement, not wanting to be woken up.

“Hey, wake up,” Johnny told you. Was it time for work already? It was like you'd only been asleep for ten minutes. You really didn't want to go, couldn't you call in sick just this once?    

“Five more minutes,” you croaked, tightening your grip on the blanket.

“Yeah, you said that fifteen minutes ago. I've already given you half an hour.”

“Can't you tell them I'm sick?”

“What?” You squinted at the bright lights, about to plead Johnny to make up some excuse to your boss, but you suddenly recognised you were in the dojo. It was empty aside from Miguel and Aisha who were grabbing their bags and blankets. Shit, movie night. The mats were sparse, there weren't any blankets, soda cups or pizza boxes anywhere to be seen. Surely they hadn't cleaned up already?

“Where's everyone?” You asked while you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

“Gone home. Movie finished a while ago.” Johnny was crouched next to you, his hand was still on your shoulder. He immediately pulled away when you glanced at his arm. “Come on, I'll take you to your place.”

“Aren't you driving Miguel back?”

“Aisha's giving him a ride.”

“I'll be fine in a minute.” You took to your feet unsteadily and starting folding up the blanket.

“You can't drive like this.”

“I just need to wake up that's all.”

“I said I'll-”

“Sensei! We're gonna head off now, so thanks for the pizza and the movie was awesome,” Miguel interjected. He was standing by the door and was looking at Johnny before he turned to you. “And thanks for the soda too. I'll see you on Monday, Sensei.”

“Have a good weekend,” you waved at him.

“Night, Diaz,” Johnny replied. The dojo was silent after Miguel left. You were awake enough to feel the tension rolling off of Johnny. He was standing right next to you, his jaw was tight, his arms were stiff at his sides. You had to refold the blanket after messing it up the first time. He stared as you held the blanket out to him but he didn't take it.

“Just let me drive you, okay? I'll come pick you up in the morning so you can get your car,” he explained calmly. Before you could voice a rebuttal, he spoke again. “And no, it's not too much trouble.”

He wasn't giving you any room to manoeuvre. You didn't know why he was so insistent on driving you back. In a few minutes, you'd be fine. The apartment was out of the way, and Johnny would have to come get you in the morning.

After the casual conversation on the way to the pizza place, you didn't want to push your luck and end up with things being awkward or turning into an argument. But you supposed it was too late for that now.

“Thanks, it's kind of you to offer but really I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.”

“Johnny-”

“You're exhausted. Do you know how loud those kids got? You didn't move at all, you just. . .passed out.” You were taken back by the look on his face. He seemed. . .worried. You lowered your head, unable to say anything back to him. You didn't remember, you didn't remember anything after you'd closed your eyes to get some rest.

That was during the first part of the movie. Johnny said that you'd already asked him for five more minutes before and you didn't remember that at all.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, understanding his insistence. “If you wouldn't mind. . .”

“Can you take that out to the car?” He gestured to the blanket still in your arms.

“Sure.” Johnny grabbed the pillow before you could reach down to pick it up. You walked out of the dojo into the cool night air. While he was turning off the lights and locking up, you buried your face into the blanket and took in a deep lungful. The smell of him threatened to bring back memories of the two of you together, but the worst of it was how it made you feel. Calm, safe, content. You had to pull it away from your face.

After he came over, he took the blanket from you and threw it in the trunk along with the pillow. You got into the car with Johnny wanting nothing more than to curl over and sleep. He asked for your address before he turned on the ignition. When you replied he said he knew where it was, he used to live near there for a couple years with his mom.

He'd always found it difficult to talk about her, but he had reached the point where he could occasionally mention her to you in passing.

The streets were much quieter than earlier. You watched the apartment blocks and the stores pass by. It was a struggle to keep your eyes. You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a quiet sigh.

“You're not sleeping, are you?” He glanced over at you for a brief moment. Your gut twinged with anxiety. Not having the courage to look in his direction, you kept watching the road ahead. Trying to give him an excuse wasn't going to work.  

“It's been a little. . .difficult lately.”

“A little? When was the last time you slept? Properly.” You tried to think back to the last time you'd had a good night sleep but you came up blank. “You don't even know, do you?”

“I've been working a lot, that's all,” you replied dismissively.

“I thought I told you to take it easy.”

“It's not like I have a choice, Johnny.”

“Look, if it's about the money I can help.”

“I'm not taking your money.”

“Not all of it's mine. I still have some of Sid's money left over. Think of it as a loan if you want.”  

“Loan or not,” you clarified.

“Why can't you just accept my help?”

“Are you really saying that? To me?” You asked incredulously. You couldn't help the anger that seeped through your words. The reason why you'd broken up with him in the first place was because he wouldn't accept your help and now he's trying to preach the same at you?

“You don't need to make the same mistakes I did,” he responded quietly. His admission took you by surprise. You'd expected him to get angry, to lash out at you, to meet you punch for punch. Instead he'd done the complete opposite. “The offer's there, if you need it.”

You couldn't say anything. The righteous anger left you as quickly as it came. You should have said something, you should have thanked him at the very least but the words were stuck in your throat.

The rest of the drive was silent. No longer did you feel the urge to sleep, you were wide awake, anxious and guilty thoughts spiralling in your mind. He'd offered his help and your first reaction was to become defensive and reject it. When he pulled up outside your apartment block, you didn't know to do, whether to invite him inside or to simply say goodbye.

“Get some sleep,” Johnny said as he turned to face you, his wrist resting on the steering wheel. “Call me tomorrow and I'll come pick you up.”

“Thanks,” you managed to reply. Getting out of the Firebird, you waved at him before walking towards the entrance of the apartment block. He didn't leave until you were inside the door.

Oddly you got a solid eight hours of sleep that night. You called Johnny in the morning and he said he'd be about forty minutes, giving you time to shower and get changed.

The journey back to the dojo was thankfully uneventful. He asked a couple of questions, how you were, whether you slept. After a brief conversation, he turned the speakers up and you were able to enjoy the music with him. You weren't quite ready to start singing just yet, and neither was Johnny, but he was humming away instead. He parked up next your car which was still in one piece. You thanked him for the ride.

“I'm glad you came last night,” he replied in earnest, not looking in your direction. When his eyes finally met yours, your heart started beating a bit faster. “Maybe next time you can make it through the first act.”

You huffed out a soft laugh and nodded in agreement. You got out of his car and went to your own, taking out your keys on the way. There was going to be a next time? What movie was he going to choose next? Things seemed to have settled out between you and Johnny, even after the series of disagreements you had with him last night. It could have ended much worse. You were grateful that it didn't.

Johnny honked as he pulled out of the lot with his music blasting. You couldn't help but shake your head and smile as he drove off.

Maybe things weren't so bad.

- - -

Going to the dojo was no longer the dreaded affair that it used to be. Instead, it became something to look forward to. Johnny was getting along better with you, he didn't seem to be avoiding you like he was before. The tension had fizzled out and was replaced by something. . .friendly.

You were able to sleep a bit more even though you were still working a lot. It was surprising how much of a difference it made. You really seemed to be getting a handle on things. When you were sorting through the paperwork and the student fees, you weren't making so many mistakes. It saved lots of time because you didn't have to triple check everything.

A class was due to start in about fifteen minutes and already a fair number of kids were in the dojo. Miguel had chatted to you for a little bit when you arrived and Hawk had glared at you from afar as per usual. You wondered pointlessly how to repair things. Any attempts to try and talk to him would certainly be rebuffed, most likely with an insult. He'd already purposefully bumped into you, his dislike for you was made perfectly clear.

There didn't seem to be anything you could do. It wasn't like you could explain the intricacies of your relationship with Johnny. Even if you did he'd take his Sensei's side. You resigned yourself to giving him as much space as possible, hoping his disdain might naturally peter out with time.

Johnny came into the office while you were sorting through some consent forms from three new students.

“What's this?” He challenged, holding up a crumpled twenty dollar bill.

“Uhh. . .”

“What? Didn't think I'd notice?” He sounded only vaguely annoyed and he seemed rather amused by your guilty expression. “How about you earn it back and let me borrow you for this class?”

“Borrow meaning. . .you're gonna throw me onto the floor?”

“Only a couple of times. Five at the most. Well, definitely not above double digits,” he replied with a glint in his eyes, you couldn't help but roll your own. “I'm gonna show the kids a few self defence moves. It's better if I can demonstrate them with another adult.”

“Right, of course,” you mumbled sarcastically.

"Come on, it's not going to hurt." You stared at him for a few moments with your eyebrows raised. "It'll hurt a little bit, but you'll be fine. It's nothing you haven't done before."

“Alright,” you agreed, knowing that he wouldn't purposefully cause you injury.

It wasn't until half way through the class that he waved you to come into the dojo. The kids were all sitting around the edge of the mat and were waiting attentively. You were uneasy as you took off your shoes and socks. Focusing your attention on Johnny, you bowed before walking up to him. The nerves started to ease.

“Sometimes when fighting an opponent, you will be faced with two difficult choices,” he explained as he circled around you on the mat. “Okay, pay attention.”

Johnny stood right in front of you with his back turned and his knees bent. He widened his stance before taking a hold of your arm to wrap around his throat. Grabbing onto your other arm, he tucked it against his side and latched his fingers around your wrist.

“Your opponent has your neck, you have their elbow,” he described to the kids, pressing his chin into your elbow. His movement forced you to have a tighter grip around his throat. Automatically you tried to shift forwards to give him some room but he hunkered his chin down even further.

“If you try to break out. . .” He let go of your wrist and tapped your arm which was around his neck. Inferring what he wanted you to do, you secured your free arm around the back of his neck, applying pressure from both sides. “Your opponent is going to dig in and put you to sleep.”

His voice was strained, you could hear that his airway was slightly restricted. Your attempt to twist your elbow away from him failed. What was he doing? Was he trying to make it more realistic for the kids? It didn't feel right, especially after everything that happened with Kreese. It was almost as if he wanted you to hurt him.

“If you go for the opponent's ribs,” he explained, breaking out of your hold and placing his elbow on your side. You lifted up your knee in response. “You completely expose your chest.”

Johnny returned to the original position, with his hand on your wrist and you had an arm around his neck.

“Two difficult choices. What do you do?” He asked the students. They looked on curiously, unable to come up with an answer. But you knew what he was going to do. You tried to brace yourself.

He kicked the back of your leg, taking both of you down onto the mat. You managed not to fall on top of him and you were able to keep your arms up to reduce the impact. He helped you up off the mat and explained to his students to damn the consequences and power forward. After adjusting his gi, he told them to make a choice, to make a move and go all in.

He went through more self defence positions with you, ensuring that the kids could see exactly what he was doing to counterattack. Johnny was detailed in his explanations and as a result his students only asked the occasional question. Though you ended up on the mat a couple more times, it wasn't too bad. Johnny was careful not to make you go down awkwardly.

Thankfully he didn't get you to put him in another chokehold. If you were honest with yourself, it had worried you. You were probably looking into it too much. When he had finished his demonstration, he paired off the kids to do some practice amongst themselves.

You bowed before you left the mat and grabbed your shoes and socks. Sitting back down in the office, you were aching a little bit all over but nothing hurt in particular. After Johnny dismissed the class, Miguel came in to chat.

“Sensei didn't hurt you too bad, did he?” he asked, looking over you as if he was trying to spot any obvious injury.

“Nah, I've had worse.”

“Really?”

“I'm guessing he's already made sure that you can take a punch to the face right?”

“Yeah. . .” he replied, not quite getting your meaning. He raised his eyebrows when he finally realised. “Sensei punched you in the face?”

“Oh yeah. It didn't bleed too bad though.” Miguel smiled at that. “He's a good teacher. I'm glad he has you guys as his students.”

“I think you mean the other way around?”

“You're a sweet kid.”

“My Yaya would agree, but my mom. . .? I'm not so sure.” Before you could reply, Johnny called out for Miguel and he left with a rushed goodbye. About ten seconds later, Johnny came into the office.  

“Feeling delicate?” he teased, perching on the other side of the desk. Your reply was to shake your head at him. “It was a good class. I think the kids learnt a lot today.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

“And you didn't even hit double digits.” He told you, slapping down the twenty dollar bill in front of you. When you went to take it, he snatched it away jokingly. “Did you really earn this? I mean I deserve a couple more body slams at the very least.”

Standing up from the chair, you reached forwards and managed to grab onto the bill.

“Maybe next time,” you told him. He got off the desk, winking at you as he left the office.

- - -

You dreamt about him that night. It was visceral, you hadn't dreamt of something so vivid for a very long time. The memory of his hands on you was too fresh, it had sunk down into your subconscious. You woke up longing, aching, wanting nothing more than his arms to wrap around your body. When you remembered what happened the day before you could still feel him on your skin.

It was like something had broken inside of you.

Being busy at work kept you from thinking about it too much. Almost a week passed before the memory had faded enough where you could think about it without a reaction. The next time you were in the dojo, Johnny borrowed you again for another demonstration. You had come prepared with more comfortable clothes and shoes that didn't take so long to take off.

The session was about weapons and how the kids would defend themselves against someone who was armed. He gave you a piece of plastic to use as a fake knife.

When you were on the mats, he stood before you in a fighting position, explaining the situation to the kids. He raised his eyebrows to signal for you to attack. You quickly struck out your arm which he easily blocked. He knocked the pretend knife out of your grasp and took control of your wrist. With his other arm, he grabbed onto the back of your shoulder and forced you to bend over. He turned you around slowly so each of the kids could see his grip.

You went over numerous scenarios with him, You would attack him from different angles, sometimes keeping the knife concealed until the fight was underway. It was easy to anticipate what he needed you to do, it made the demonstration flow unhindered. Johnny explained one final situation to the kids where they should consider disarming their opponent from a distance.

He signalled for you to advance but you came in too fast, and he ended up kicking your wrist. The fake knife flew out of your hand and you held in a soft grunt from the impact. Johnny must have seen it on your face because he checked on you when he finished the class.

Coming round to your side of the desk, he leant up against it and took your hand in his lap. His fingers began to rub against your wrist.

“Where does it hurt?” You answered by wincing when he pressed his thumb against a certain spot. “Put some ice on it later if it's still bothering you. Otherwise I would recommend that you don't operate any heavy machinery.”

“Oh, is that your professional advice, Dr. Lawrence?” You replied in jest.

“Is that attitude my patient's giving me? Because you won't get a sticker if you're not careful.” He slid off the desk and opened up one of the filing cabinets.

“You actually have stickers?” You exclaimed in disbelief as he pulled out a sticker with the Cobra Kai logo on it.

“Some of the kids ordered a bunch from the internet,” he replied, letting you take it. The sticker was almost the size of your hand, you wondered where you going to put it. After thanking him for the present, he headed back into the dojo to get some equipment out.

Over the next thirty minutes or so, all of the kids left except for Miguel. Johnny was training him by himself and was holding out some pads for him to kick. With another batch of paperwork complete, you decided it was a good place to call it for the day. You waved to the two of them as you left and walked out of the front door.

As you pulled out your keys, you were surprised to see Hawk leaning against the door of your car, blocking you from getting inside. His arms were crossed, he looked impatient like he'd been waiting for you since class had ended.

“Everything okay, Hawk?” You asked as you approached him. He shifted off your car, uncrossing his arms and balling his hands into fists.

“Why do you keep coming around here,” Hawk said bitterly with a sneer on his face. “You should stay away from Sensei.”

“He asked me to be here,” you responded calmly, holding your ground when Hawk moved into your personal space.

“Sensei only asks you to come here because he feels sorry for you. You already dumped him, haven't you hurt him enough?” You looked away from him for a moment, taking in his hurtful words and wondering how much truth there was to them.

“Look. . .I understand that you care about your Sensei, but that's his choice to make. It's not your business.”

“Of course it's my business, he's my Sensei! You're interfering with our lessons. He gets all weird and distracted whenever you're around,” he told you angrily, moving even closer to get right up in your face. “So. Stay. Away from him.”

You had to take a step back from him to try and deescalate things. “Does he know that you're talking to me about this?” Hawk pursed his lips, it was clear that he hadn't talked to Johnny at all. “I'm sorry that you-”

You reeled backwards in surprise when he punched you in the face. Your lips began to throb, blood filled your mouth and it was already dripping down to your chin. It was a solid hook, Johnny had taught him well. Hawk's eyes were wide open like he didn't mean to hit you. After wiping your chin, you turned to the side and spat out the blood onto the ground.

“I'm sorry that you feel this way,” you told him, finishing off what you attempted to say before. It hurt to move your lips. You weren't angry at Hawk, he was a kid trying his best to protect someone he cared about. Giving him a wide berth, you managed to get in your car. You turned on the ignition and pulled out of the lot without checking in the mirror to see how bad your face looked.

Was Hawk right? Was it pity? You couldn't stop thinking about what he said as you drove back to the apartment. Was Johnny only asking you to come to the dojo because he felt sorry for you? There was truth in it somewhere, you could feel it, but you couldn't exactly see where.

Johnny might have asked for your help but you were the one who had taken that photo of the Cobra Kai flyer. You were the one who, the very next day, went straight to the dojo to satisfy your curiosity.

If you had minded your business, Johnny would never have sought you out. He would never have called. He wouldn't even know where you lived. Had he sensed your desperation to be close to him? It was only after parking up outside the apartment that you inspected the damage. You winced as you gently touched your top and bottom lip. It wasn't pretty, it was going to take a while to heal.

Running your teeth over one of the scabs, you felt a sense of relief when it started bleeding.

- - -

Smoking some weed was more awkward than you thought it was going to be. Though it hurt your lips, you didn't care, you needed something to calm you down. After work for the next few days, you got a good buzz going every night. It was better than letting the thoughts of Johnny run rampant in your mind.

When he called, you briefly considered giving him some excuse to get out of going. You wanted to refuse and have him try to convince you to come, hear the need in his voice. Hawk had probably said the first mean thing that came to his mind. Even if he was right, Johnny wouldn't ask you to be there solely out of pity, he needed you to help him and that was a good enough reason for you.

Parking up at the dojo, you quickly went over the excuse about what happened to your face in case anyone asked. It was nothing more than a silly accident where you bit your lip by mistake.

As you headed inside, there were quite a few kids already there, Hawk was amongst them. Instead of his customary grimace, guilt was on his face for a brief moment before he turned away.

Thankfully none of the kids asked what happened to your face and you were able to make it to the office unchallenged. As you sorted through some consent waivers that needed to be copied, Johnny came out of the storage room hauling some punching bags with Miguel and a couple others.

You went over to the printer by the door with the waivers and started making two copies of each one. Johnny manoeuvred a punching bag to the edge of the mat while nodding to the kids that were coming into the dojo. As soon as he turned to face your direction, he spotted you and his expression fell.

He immediately walked over and you pressed your lips together in a weak smile.

“What happened?” He demanded, his hand reaching up to rest on your chin. He tilted back your head and inspected the damage. You swallowed nervously, taken back by the seriousness of his reaction.

“Oh I'm fine. . .it's stupid really,” you replied nonchalantly and shrugged. When you tried to lean back from his touch, he simply moved forwards.

“What happened?” He repeated, his fingers pulling down the skin by your mouth so he could get a better look at your lip.

“I bit down on my lip that's all.” He suddenly stopped moving, his eyes met yours. Your gut twisted in nerves from the way he was looking at you.

“You're lying,” he said coldly, your heart aching at his words. His hand slipped down to the scruff of your neck and his grip on your shirt began to tighten. Anger and hurt filled his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

“It's really nothing.”

“Who. Did. This?” He growled, baring his teeth. Both of his hands were gripping onto your shirt, forcing you to move right up close to him. You could feel his hot breath on your face. He wasn't just angry, he was enraged. You'd never seen him like this, not even when he'd gotten into fights in the past.

“It was an accident,” you explained, gently placing your hand on one of his wrists. His body twitched like he was going to react badly to the touch. It didn't look as if he believed you at all. Rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand, you took in a deep breathe and exhaled slowly. You hoped that the movement might calm him down a little.

“It was just an accident,” you reiterated firmly. You weren't lying, as far as you were concerned that's all it was. “I swear to you.” Would he even believe your promise? Or was he too far gone? There was no change in his expression so you couldn't tell. Again you breathed in and out deliberately so that his hands would feel the motion of your chest.

“Is everything okay, Sensei?” You heard Miguel ask apprehensively. Turning to look at him, you saw all of the kids staring at you and Johnny. Worry was apparent on all of their expressions, even Hawk's.  

“Yeah, we're okay.” You smiled reassuringly at Miguel and the rest of the kids. “Isn't that right, Sensei?”

Hopefully calling him that rather than his name would remind him where he was and what he was doing in front of his students. When you looked back at Johnny, he seemed to snap out of the haze of anger. He shifted his focus onto the kids and immediately let go of your shirt. You placed a heavy hand on Johnny's shoulder and slapped it twice in an effort to convey that both of you were perfectly fine.

He pulled away from you and went to the storage room, with a deeply concerned Miguel in tow. It took a few moments for the tension in the dojo to dissipate and the kids soon returned to getting ready for class. Straightening out your shirt, you sat down in the chair and let out an unsteady breath.

Fuck, what just happened? - - - Taglist: @whyhaveyouwritten-mehere @lacontroller1991 @stressedstark @wndrcarol @carissakingofthecastle92 @witchcraftandwit @magicwithaknife @80strashbag @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @chlqefrazer @actuallydrew @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch  @wholesomehen  @deadpoolgirl23   @sorryyoureoutofmyleague​

[flowerfan2]

A story about a reunion, and everything that happens afterwards.

Chapter 16/20 - Read on A03 here.

Patrick reads the email over again, just to make sure, then he runs out into the living room to tell David.

“I did it.”

David looks up from his spot on the couch, his black-framed glasses perched on his nose.  They’ve had a very sleepy Sunday morning, followed by a big breakfast of bacon and omelets, and David still hasn’t gotten around to putting in his contacts.  Patrick loves him like this.

“What did you do?”  David rises up from the couch, all grace and designer loungewear, and comes over to Patrick.

“I got a job.”  Patrick isn’t sure if what he is feeling is relief, excitement, or equal parts of both, but it feels amazing.

David smiles at him and pecks him on the cheek.  “Of course you did.”  He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him.  “Sit down and tell me about it.”

“It’s just a consulting position, bookkeeping mostly, but for a company that works with start-ups and young entrepreneurs.  And it’s decent pay, more than I was expecting for this kind of thing.”

“That’s great,” David says.  “When do you start?”

“They want me right away.”  Patrick can feel his smile stretching his cheeks.  It’s the first time he’s felt anything but useless in so long, the way the people at this firm seemed to understand what he could bring to the table.  Patrick accepts another kiss from David, and then pops back up off the couch.  “I’m gonna call my parents.”

He goes into the bedroom and talks to his mom, then his dad, and then the conversation somehow gets derailed into a debate on whether buying new furniture for the lanai right now is a good idea or if they should stick with what they have for the time being.  Patrick kind of likes the idea of making David go shopping for patio furniture with him, so he’s voting for the former.  Finally they circle back to his job, his parents congratulate him again, and he gets off the phone.

He’s headed back to the living room, but pauses when he sees David in the guest room.  David has a black leather bag open on the bed and his sweaters folded in careful piles next to it.  Patrick’s stomach drops.

“David?  What – what are you doing?”  

David looks up.  He’s dressed in his favorite armor, glasses discarded in favor of contacts, a fuzzy black sweater over the black jeans with the rips in the knees.  “You said you were starting right away.  You didn’t say where, but I’m assuming Toronto-”

“Toronto?  Why would you assume Toronto?”

David’s face shutters further, and he turns back to his bag.  “I know I said I’d go anywhere with you, but I thought you might at least give me a heads up, discuss it a little bit, especially if it’s not Toronto.  I do have to deal with my apartment there at some point.”  David turns towards him, a hand on his hip.  “Do you even still want me to come with you?”

Patrick doesn’t know how this could have gone so horribly wrong, and he crosses to David, grabbing him by the shoulders.  “Stop packing.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”  David’s voice is rising, and Patrick shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.  We’re not going anywhere, not until we both decide we want to.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“David, we’re not going anywhere.  I don’t have to <i>go</i> anywhere.  It’s a remote job.”

David stares at Patrick, and Patrick watches as he mentally replays the conversation they’ve had so far.  “You aren’t leaving?”

“No.”  Patrick sits down on the bed, David frowning at him as he knocks over a pile of sweaters, but sits down next to him anyway.  “It’s remote, part-time.  A consulting gig.  Varied schedule, but they think it’ll be about 20-25 hours a week, depending in part on how much their clients like me, and how well I can add value.  I may need to go to the Toronto office a few times a year, for meetings or something.  But I’m doing the job from home – from here, or wherever.”

David turns away, picking up his off-white hoodie and pretending to refold it, even though Patrick can tell he just needs something to do with his hands.  “You should have told me that,” David says, embarrassed.

“I know.  I’m sorry, I just got so excited.”  Patrick leans into David, rubbing a hand on his back.  “I’m sorry,” he says again, letting it sink in, letting David get his balance.  “I wouldn’t make any plans for us without talking it over with you.  I promise I wouldn’t.  My plans wouldn’t be any good without you.”

David’s eyes flicker to his and away, his hands still wrapped in the halfway folded sweater.  

“It’s true, David.”  Patrick puts his free hand on top of David’s, calming their restless movement.  “I don’t want any plans without you in them.  I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.”

“You haven’t?”  David turns back, searching his face.

“Nope.  I told them I had to talk it over with my boyfriend.”  Patrick’s taking a risk, throwing that word out there.  But David had done it first last time, and he doesn’t think there’s really any question that it applies.  He’s sort of glad that he hasn’t used it yet; there’s more of an impact now, when David clearly needs it.

David’s eyes go wide.  “You did?”

“I did.  So – what do you think?”

David shifts, and his demeanor softens, his walls coming back down.  “I think your <i>boyfriend</i> needs to know more.”  There’s a smile hidden in his cheek, an agreement.  Patrick wants to cheer.  David holds his gaze, and his smile escapes, mirroring Patrick’s own.  “And then you probably need to ask for more money.  There’s nothing wrong with asking for what you deserve.”

“You don’t even know what they offered me.”

“Whatever they offered, you’re worth more.”

******

Patrick gets up earlier than normal a few days later and shaves carefully, examining his face closely in the mirror.  He doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t worked in months.  He just looks like himself.  And when he presents himself to David for approval, David’s smile courses through his lips and into his cheeks, his hands dancing to Patrick’s shoulders, smoothing down the thin fabric of his favorite purple dress shirt.  He’s ready.

They set up an office of sorts for Patrick in the guest bedroom, shifting the bed to one side, moving a dresser out of the room and into the hallway, and arranging a table by the window.  Patrick decides that one of the dining table chairs will work for the time being, and David fusses with the curtains, concerned that the glare will make it hard to see his laptop screen.

Finally Patrick ushers David out of the guest room and logs in to a Zoom meeting for orientation.  It’s boring as hell, but he doesn’t complain.

It’s not as if he thought he was unemployable, it’s just that after his last job imploded so strangely, he wasn’t sure what it would be like to be an employee again.  And didn’t know if anyone would give him a chance to find out.  Turns out, Alexis was not only good at papering over his employment blips, she was awesome at pep talks and interview practice.  He makes a note to himself to call her soon and thank her.

That night they make sandwiches and eat them on the lanai.  It’s a little cool for it, but it still feels nice to be outside.  Patrick had his parents send him down some more clothes, but David scoffed at the idea of wearing a jacket.  Instead he’s got a throw blanket draped around his shoulders, a giant turquoise fleece wrap that clashes terribly with his otherwise neutral palette.

They get a series of texts from Stevie, photos of the house she’s buying in Schitt’s Creek.  It’s a three-bedroom ranch on a decent sized lot.  The interior looks like it hasn’t been updated in decades, with a pink bathroom and horrendous wallpaper in the bedrooms, but Stevie’s had plenty of experience updating décor at this point.

David teases her for a few minutes, riffing on how unbelievable it is that she’s adult enough to be a homeowner, but his heart doesn’t seem in it.  Patrick doesn’t tell him how Stevie has been saving for years, every bonus and raise going into an account for a down-payment.  

After their chat with Stevie, David seems out of sorts, and Patrick isn’t sure what to do about it.  After they’ve cleaned up from dinner, he suggests they play a game.

David gives him a frowny look, and Patrick immediately knows what he’s thinking.  Neither of them are in the mood for sex.  “Not that kind of game.  A card game, or a board game.”

David perks up at this, then deflates.  “We don’t have the right number of people for a board game.”

“I bet we can find something the two of us can play.  My parents have a pile of games in the hall closet.”

They pull down the basket of games from the shelf above the laundry machine, and David peers inside.  “Did they get these from a yard sale or something?”

There’s a worn box that contains a checkerboard, with both checkers and chess inside, a Connect Four game, a few decks of cards, and Uno.

“I think my aunt sent them down.”  Patrick takes out the Uno deck.  “How about this?”

David takes the whole basket into the living room and sets it on the coffee table.  He takes out the Connect Four game and pulls out the plastic frame, dropping a round tile into it.  “I had this game,” he says thoughtfully.

“I think everyone had that game.”

David dumps out the rest of the pieces, and a greeting card falls out.  It’s got a drawing of a bouquet of flowers on the front, with “Get Well Soon” in big letters.  “What’s this?”  David opens it and reads out loud.  “Marcy – hope this brings a little bit of fun to your day.  You’re in our prayers.  Love Susie and Pete.”

Patrick takes the card and reads it, his mind flashing back to last spring, flying down to see his parents.  His dad breaking down in tears on the car ride from the airport.  His mother telling him not to worry.

“Patrick?  Patrick, honey, what’s going on?”

David has his arm around him, and he’s pressed close to him on the couch.  Patrick brushes away the wetness on his cheeks, and David pulls him into a hug.  “Patrick, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

David glares at him.

“I mean, it turned out to be nothing.”  Patrick shakes himself and clears his throat.  “My mom had a cancer scare last spring.  They found a tumor in her breast.  But it was benign.”

“<i>This</i> doesn’t sound like it was benign.”  David waves the card at him.  “People don’t say <i>you’re in our prayers</I> when it’s benign.”

“She had a bad reaction to one of the drugs, during the surgery, and took a little while to recover.  She was laid up for a while, and pretty miserable.  But it wasn’t cancer.”

David’s eyes are wet, and he looks like he’s going to cry, too.  “She’s okay now?”

“She’s okay.”  Patrick leans against David, snuggling into his arms, and they both breathe together for a long moment.  “Oh god, I think that’s why I freaked out in the doctor’s office.”

David shifts to look at him.  “What do you mean?”

“As soon as I heard, I flew down here.  I went with my mom and dad to the doctor’s visits before her surgery.  I couldn’t stay long afterwards, I had to get back to work, but…” Patrick’s throat gets tight, remembering.  “It was awful.  We were all so frightened.”

David presses Patrick’s head against his own, his large hand against Patrick’s scalp warm and comforting.  Patrick can feel David’s chest rising and falling.  David’s taking deep breaths, he can tell, trying to stay calm.

“You said this happened last spring?” David says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“When things started to go wrong for you at work.”

Patrick tenses.  “My mom was in the hospital.  I think it’s understandable that I was having trouble focusing.”

“No, honey, of course.  That’s not what I meant.  Of course it is.  It’s just – you didn’t mention that before.  That being worried about your mom is what started to get you down.”

Patrick feels like he’s a cartoon character with a light bulb flashing over his head.  Could it be that simple?  Was worrying about his mom’s health, on top of his general dissatisfaction with where he had ended up in life, what pushed him over the edge into depression?  

David tightens his arm around Patrick’s shoulder.  “I’m so sorry, Patrick.  That that happened to your family.  It must have been a very scary thing to deal with.”

“It really was.”

“I’m so glad she’s okay.”

Patrick turns and buries his face in David’s neck.  “Me too.”

That night, after David falls asleep, Patrick turns to the internet.  He hadn’t wanted to do this before.  He’s not sure why, although he thinks it has a lot to do with denial.  But he can’t stop thinking about his mom, and how hard it had hit him when she was sick.  Gritting his teeth, he starts googling causes of depression.  Upsetting or stressful life events.  Death or illness in the family.  Job-related worries.  Huh.  Maybe he had good reason to feel like things were falling apart.  Maybe that’s why he lost the ability to care about his job.  Maybe he’s not doomed to fail at his new one, too.

Patrick scrolls to the email from the therapist he’s been talking to.  So far, it’s just been a few emails and a brief phone call, an introduction, to see if she seemed like a good fit.  She’s based out of Toronto, but has many patients that she counsels remotely, on Facetime or Zoom, and comes highly recommended.  With shaking hands, he types out a message, suggesting that they schedule a session soon.  “I think it started last spring…”

[fandom-blackhole]

Hayloft- Ezra x Reader P.5

AN: After a bit of waiting here it is!!!! Part 5! I really love this chapter, so much so that I haven’t really edited it because I wanted to share it with you guys lol. So if you see something that doesn’t look right please tell me! Love you guys and I hope you like this chapter!

Masterlist

Words: 3.8k (almost 3.9k....this is the most I have written for one chapter lol)

Warnings: AFAB reader, descriptions of depression, mentions of attempted assault, this chapter gets a little spicy at the end so 18+ just to be safe?, that’s it we are back to fluff lol

According to the town doctor, Ezra had managed to break Tucker’s nose, two of his teeth, and fracture one of his eyesockets, while he himself on managed to get a bruised jaw, and swollen bloody and bruised fist. I, on the other hand, only suffered from a bruised forehead and cheek, miscellaneous scratches, and a bloody nose. 

It had only taken about fifteen minutes before Anthony had been sent by my father to go looking for Tucker and Ezra. When he found the three of us, I am sure the scene in the barn was quite a shock. I wish I could say that I had seen his face when he realized what he was looking at, but by the time he had made his way to the back of the barn I had buried my face into Ezra’s neck as he held me and rocked us both trying to calm me down. I had heard Anthony coming, but I was too scared to look up, only clutching at Ezra’s torn shirt. 

I did nothing but cling to Ezra as he told Anthony what he had stumbled upon and what he had done, spitting venomous words in Tucker’s direction and holding me close. Anthony didn’t say much and he only really grabbed my shirt that had been thrown aside and brought it towards where we both sat in the corner. Anthony had placed my shirt gently in my lap and gave me a small kiss on the top of my head, which in turn caused me to start crying again, and he then went and grabbed Tucker’s legs and dragged him out of the barn telling the two of us to that he was going to get father. 

Ezra had slowly helped me to my feet and into my shirt, before grabbing my face and kissing the tears from my cheeks. Then he lead me from the barn slowly with his hand resting on the small of my back as my arms crossed across my torso holding myself tightly, my eyes not leaving the ground. 

The rest of the day passed in pretty much a blur. I barely remember the doctor coming for a visit, I don’t remember how I got to the house, let alone into my room, and I don’t remember when I fell asleep. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

Once again I found myself staying in the house doing small tasks away from the others. The difference, though, was this time it was self imposed. I just couldn’t find it in me to make my way outside and be around the others. Especially knowing that I wouldn’t be able to interact with Ezra in the way that I wanted too, the way I needed too. So instead, I stayed inside and cleaned things that didn’t need to be cleaned, organized things that were already organzied, and cooked meals. I threw myself into anything that could distract me from the events that felt like had left a scar on my very soul. I felt broken and dirty, even though I knew that nothing had really happened. But, the thoughts and feelings of uselessness just wouldn’t fade and the crept into my every waking moment. 

The only good that had come from the whole situation was that my father had taken to letting Ezra eat with the rest of us again. It was only then, when Ezra sat across from me with his easy smile and flourishing words that I would truely feel safe, and those thoughts that refused to leave me alone would fade to a static in the back of my head. Instead they were replaced with Ezra speaking openly as Anthony asked him questions, and my head was only full of the the sight of Ezra’s soft obsidian eyes swirling with the galaxies and stars he had seen on his adventures and his soft oddly soothing accented voice. My father always stayed quiet during meals only eating and maybe giving a small grunt if asked a question. My father even stayed quiet as each night Ezra would softly ask about my day and how I was feeling. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

Things weren’t okay, but things were finally getting better.

Roughly two weeks after everything had happened with Tucker I had managed to get myself to do the laundry. What had finally pushed me to fill the tub with steaming water and get the soaps out was when I noticed that Ezra had been wearing the same clothes for the at least last three days if not longer.

It had taken all morning to get all of my father’s and Anthony’s clothes clean and hung onto the clothes line beside the house. After a short water break, I got to work on my clothes all the while keeping an eye out and taking note of any clothes that needed mended. My father had a couple of shirts with small tears along the seam, Anthony per usual had managed to tear the pockets on his pants and was missing a button on one of his shirts, while I only had a small tear on the back of my favorite shirt from where it had caught a lose nail.

Once I had hung my clothes to dry, I reached for Ezra’s to place them in the tub only to stop short. Ezra, when we had walked from town to the farm, had only been carrying a small sack in which he only could hold two or three pairs of clothes, at most. Looking at the shirt in my hand now, I was surprised the shirt was still in one piece. The shirt was thread bare from what I could only assume was years of use, it had several holes running along the bottom part of the left sleeve as well as wear on the right, and a few along the bottom hem in the front. The other shirt he had in there was worse for wear, having a huge tear near the neck from the fight with Tucker. The pants weren’t much better, the knees rubbed thin from years of kneeling on rough surfaces and the cuffs were scuffed and held several holes of varying sizes, not to mention the sizable hole that was in the crotch of the pants, that only served to turn my face red once I had noticing it, and caused me to wonder how he had managed to hide the hole without anyone noticing. 

I washed Ezra’s clothes carefully with a frown, not wanting to cause more harm, all the while trying my best to remove as many stains as possible. As I was hanging the tattered clothes on the clothes line next to mine I couldn’t help but to wonder when the last time Ezra had bought himself new clothes, because it was obvious on both shirts that he had them both when he still had his other arm. 

Shaking my head, I smoothed my hand over the shirt I had just washed with a sad smile before an idea caused me to hurriedly clean up the washing tub and put away the soaps quickly. Once back in the house I went to my room and grabbed my small sewing kit, as well as my button tin placing them onto my bed, before turning to my dresser and biting my bottom lip.

When my father had finally figured out that Joshua had left the farm for good he had gone into a blind rage and had made the decision to remove and sell everything he had left behind in his room. He started with the bigger things like his bed and the small desk he had made himself for Joshua. Then he got rid of the small dresser and all of Joshua’s small little nick nacks. When all that was left was Joshua’s clothes my father had marched out of the house and made a bonfire towards the back of the farm. When I had realized what he was doing, I had grabbed what I could without it being obvious and had hid them in the bottom of my dresser under my underclothes, knowing that my father would never look in that drawer.

Now, I reach inside and grab the three shirts, two long sleeved and one t-shirt, and a pair cargo pants. The shirts, while they didn’t have holes, it was obvious that they were second hand, as they each had their own signs of wear, but they were each still in much better condition than what Ezra owned now. 

Turning to my bed, with my lip still between my teeth I gently laid the clothes onto my bed before taking a deep breath and getting to work. It hurt slightly knowing that by doing this I was erasing some of the few reminders of Joshua I still had in my life, but I knew in my heart that this more important than letting the clothing items waste away in my dresser. For the two long sleeved shirts, I took the right sleeve and cut it down and sewed it closed so that Ezra wouldn’t have to worry about pinning them up anymore, and for the pants I made it so that the waist was adjustable so that if he needed to he could tighten them or loosened them, because I wasn’t sure how well, or if, the pants would fit him. As for the t-shirt, I didn’t really do anything to it beyond mending the tear along the left side that I hadn’t noticed until I had went to refold it. 

The next morning after breakfast I had gone outside and collected the clothes folding and mending them. My father’s and Anthony’s, I left on their beds, and mine I put away, but I left Ezra’s pile of clothes neatly folded on my bed. That night at dinner I had smiled and talked a little more than I had in the last few weeks. It was obvious that Ezra was also in a good mood, and he kept meeting my eyes and smiling at me when my cheeks would turn slightly red. 

My father had went to bed almost as soon as Ezra had left the house. As I did the dishes, Anthony had come up behind me offering to dry them and put them away. I had only smiled and handed him the towel. We stayed silent as we finished the few dishes that were left. As I was drying my hands, I jumped a little when Anthony broke the silence saying my name. When I looked up at him he looked me in the eye and took a deep breathe before quietly asking, “When you leave, tell me so I can say goodbye, okay?”

Shocked I could only nod, looking back into his eyes as he stared into mine. He gave me a small smile and then he left the kitchen and I listened as he walked up the stairs and into his room. I stood there for a few minutes trying to really process what had just happened. I must have stood there longer than I had thought because by the time I had moved up to my room and looked out the window the sun was completely gone from the sky and two of K-5’s moons at already risen. 

Walking to my bed I grabbed the stack of Ezra’s clothes, both new and old, and turned to quietly walk out of the room, only stopping at my dresser and grabbing the bundle of flowers I had found on the floor of the spare room and placing them on top of the folded clothes in my hands. 

Creeping out of the house and into the barn was a new experience. I was used to sneaking around, and until about a month or so I had thought that I had perfected it. But, something about sneaking around outside felt different and it made me more paranoid than usual. Finally reaching the barn didn’t help matters, either. The main area of the barn felt as though it held unimaginable horrors in every dark corner, making me jumpy and scared for what I knew was nothing. Slowly, I made my way to the latter that lead to where I knew Ezra was, all the while my ears were alert and listening for any noise, nothing but the wind could be heard though. 

Once in the hayloft I relaxed slightly, not completely though, and scanned the small area, squinting and trying to find Ezra. With my first scan of the area I didn’t see him so I stepped further into the hayloft, the small amount of hay that was up there crunching under my feet. This time as I scanned the area, I whispered out Ezra’s name, too scared to raise my voice any higher. At what I can only assume to be the sound of his name being called, I heard Ezra rustling behind me, and right as I turn in the direction of the sound I heard him call out, “Flower, is that you? Truly you? Because I must confess that I have had many dreams of this situation only to wake aching to hold you and hear your voice. And at this point if you are just another of my my traitorous mind’s illustrious illusions, I might have to break into the house and visit you myself…”

Sighing and smiling at Ezra’s confession all I could do was walk towards where his voice came from. Once I reached him I could see the melancholic look in his eyes in the low light of the small lamp he had lit after hearing my voice. After taking him in for a second, I shyly looked to the floor and bit my lip before clearing my throat.

“I, um… I brought you your laundry. And I hope you don’t mind but I also fixed them up to the best of my abilities, I’m not exactly a seamstress but the holes and tears are closed….”

Smiling Ezra held his hand out and helped me sit across from him on the floor of the hayloft. After sitting I slowly passed the clothes to him chewing on my bottom lip in anticipation of what his reaction would be to both his clothes and the new items I had made for him. Ezra’s first reaction was to small and take the flowers, reaching across and placing them behind my ear with a soft, ‘there, perfect’. Then we sat in silence as Ezra meticulously looked over his clothes with a small loving smile, and when he got to the new clothes the smile turned into more of a confused one as he looked up at me. 

“Flower, you claim not to be a seamstress, but this stitching is as close to perfect as anyone would get, I don’t think anyone would think that there was even hole in any of these garments. For Kevva’s sake you even found and patched that embarrassing hole in the intimate areas of my pants that I have until now successfully and embarrassingly hidden from you and the other two. But, flower, I do think you may have mixed some of either your Father’s or your brother’s clothing in with mine, for I know without a doubt these are not mine.”

Looking down messing with my nails in my lap I quietly answered, “Well, you see...I noticed your clothes were, um, well for lack of a better term, worse for wear, and I had some of Joshua’s old clothes so I thought I would fix them up for you. Modify them slightly to fit you better.”

As I spoke, I could see Ezra sorting through the new clothes, unfolding them to inspect them. Slowly I raised my head to watch him as he rubbed the cloth between his thumb and forefinger. I watched as he realized that I had patched the right sleeves to fit what was left of his missing limb. And I watched as his eyes met mine, with a look in them that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

Getting embarrassed I looked back down at my lap and finished what I was saying with a quick, “I only modified the new cloths because I didn’t want to mess with your clothes just in case you didn’t like the modifications, and if you don’t like it I can, I can just take them back to the house. You don’t have to kee-”

“You would have to pry this gratuitous gift from my cold dead hands, flower. These are………. Flower, I am a man of many words and you have managed to take them all away from me with this small, but pure, act of kindness. I must admit that I had not gotten new clothing for myself in quite some time, while it be because of self loathing or because I didn’t see the point in new clothes if they were to only end up like the ones I have now, I am not sure. But these are more than what I could ask for. Precious flower you really though of everything when getting these ready for me, didn’t you? Kevva above, what did I do in a past life to deserve your absolute beauty and kindness because gods know that I didn’t do anything good enough for you in this one.”

Laughing quietly, I could only shake my head as my eyes started to get watery. Looking back up at Ezra, I was only met with a gaze that held so much emotion that it almost hurt to return. Ezra then set the clothes to the side and moved closer to me, our knees pressed against each other, and he reached his hand out, pressing it into the side of my neck with a sigh. 

“Flower, I must admit that it was starting to get to hard for me not to reach arcoss that damned table at meals and just touch you. I have missed your touch more than I ever thought possible. This time without your touch made walking through a desert without water seem much more comfortable and appeasing. Seeing you so close, and not being able to have you has torn this old prospector’s heart and soul to shreds. Darling precious flower, please allow me the salvation that is your lips on mine, for I think a second longer without them might spell my death.”

Laughing again at Ezra’s dramatics, I lean towards him only to to feel his hand pull me as close as possible as he crashes his lips against mine. I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped me as my lips met his in a kiss that felt like Ezra was trying to devour my very being. Ezra’s hand moved to the back of my neck, his fingers sinking into my hair. My own hands finding their way onto Ezra’s chest and into the hair above his ear, as he pressed his tongue against mine deepening the kiss. 

By the time we seperated both of our chests were heaving for breathe, and I finally noticed that at some point during the kiss we had moved closer, I had ended up on Ezra’s lap with my legs wrapped around his waist. 

Ezra smiled blissfully up at me and nudged my nose with his own, and when he spoke I could feel his breath fan aross my kiss swollen lips, “Thank you, flower, I can say that after a kiss like that, I don’t think I am going to die on you anytime soon.”

“So you are saying that one was enough? You don’t need anymore?”

Laughing, Ezra pulled back far enough to meet my eyes. “One, will never me enough with you, my sweet flower. You are as addicting as any forbidden substance and you should come with a warning for the weary travels like me.”

Before I could so much as laugh, Ezra connected our lips into another heart achingly passionate kiss. His hand moved from my neck to rub up and down my back and pulling me closer so that our chests are pressed tightly against one another. Using my leg to press closer to Ezra, I without realizing ground down onto him which pulled a gasp from me and a groan from him as Ezra bucked his hips up into mine allowing me to feel just how excited he was to see me. 

Ezra pulled away from the kiss then and placed his hand onto my hip as he looked into my eyes with a serious expression and in the most serious voice I have ever heard him use he asked, “Flower, I need to know now if you want this, because if you say yes I would love to do nothing more than to worship every last part of you, and treat you like the absolute goddess that you are. But, if you do not want this, I understand. Afterall it was only a few weeks ago that-”

“Please, don’t talk about it… I.. I want this, Ezra,” and looking him dead in the eye I spoke quietly, “Ezra, please make me forget. Make me forget anything but you.”

With the consent that he was hoping and praying for, Ezra jumped into action pressing me off his lap and laying me onto the soft, but scratchy hay. Slowly he made good on his promise to worship my body. Slowly removing my clothes and revealing my body to him. He kissed, sucked, massaged, and marked every part of my body making me squirm for him.

When he undressed, he kissed me slowly and allowed me to run my hands over him, as he groaned and sighed at my touches. Once he had gotten impatient with only soft touches, he deepened the kiss as he pleasured me with his beautifully calloused and rough fingers, drawing out the first of many orgasms. After his fingers he followed with his mouth, making me moan and whine his name as he brought me to my peak as many times as I allowed him to, until I had to push his head away, too sensitive from his ministrations. 

Moving back up my body, Ezra kissed me slowly as I came down from the high that he had thrown me into, all the while still stroking my body in anyway he could. Once I had caught my breath, Ezra moved his lips to my ear and whispered, “Are you sure you want this?”

And with a nod, because he had taken all my ability to speak anything but his name, he pulled back and sat on his knees as he pulled my hips and angled them, with my help, before he slowly pressed himself into me. I had been with a few boys from my planet, but they couldn’t compare to in any way to how full Ezra made me feel once he was seated fully inside of me. Moaning his name, all I could do was clutch at the hay that surrounded me as Ezra made love to me until we were both more than exhausted. 

Laying in the hayloft with Ezra’s head resting on my heart, I had never felt more loved or happy or safe in my life. And all I could do was wish that this feeling or this moment would never end.

(Per usual THANK YOU for reading!! Every single one of you mean so much to me! All feedback is welcome, I especially love hearing your thoughts about the last chapter! Reblogs really help with spreading the story, so if you don’t mind, please reblog? And if you would like to be added to the taglist just shoot me an ask and I’d be more than happy to add you! I hope you guys have a lovely week and I’ll see you with the next part!)

Tags: @babybelou​ @farrvey​ @anatanotegami​ @revolution-starter​​ @cadelinhadopedropascal​​ @lucifurrr​ @coolfishoperatoreagle @pugdalorian @callsigncatfish​ @marydjarin​ @jeeperky​

(Marked out people on the taglist, tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! Sorry!)

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, ravenclawkward-art!

For @ravenclawkward-art. Happy Christmas! I hope you enjoy!!

Read On AO3

*****

Derek catches the first hint of the scent as he fits the key into the lock. Traces of vanilla, cinnamon and the earthy tang of petrichor hang in the air— it’s a scent he’s become thoroughly acquainted with over the last few years.

He pushes open the front door, prompting the scent to waft through and envelope him like a warm hug.

“How did you get in?” He asks, not even looking at the figure sprawled across his couch. Moving through to the kitchen, Derek sets down his paper bag of groceries. “Actually, how did you get here?” He asks, turning. He hadn’t seen the Jeep on his way in.

“Oh, you know.” Stiles wanders in after him, hopping up onto the counter beside the fridge. “Magic.” He punctuates the word with jazz hands.

Derek huffs fondly, rolling his eyes and reaching for the milk. “Don’t you have friends you can annoy instead?”

“Good try big guy,” Stiles teases, helping Derek by handing him things out of the bag. “I’m here for the pack meeting.”

“You’re three hours early.”

“I’m super punctual.” Stiles swings his legs, knocking his heels into the cupboard door beneath him. “Oh.” His legs still suddenly and he drops down from the counter. “You got mail.” He disappears out of the room for a minute, returning with a letter, still talking. “Like, who even sends mail anymore? I swear werewolves live in the stone ages.”

Derek snatches the envelope Stiles is waving in his face, tearing it open to scan the letter inside.

“It’s the Robertson pack.”

“The who pack?” Stiles peers at the letter over Derek’s shoulder, trying to read along. Saving him the effort, Derek passes it over when he’s done.

“The Robertson pack took me and Laura in after the fire,” Derek explains, moving to lean against the bench. “Their Alpha, Sarah, knew my mom when they were young.”

“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Stiles asks, folding up the letter. “You and Laura lived in New York on your own. Wouldn’t it have been better to stay with another pack?”

Derek shakes his head. “I wanted to, but- Laura had just become Alpha. It made things difficult. So, we left. We kept in touch for a while, but after coming back here, after Laura’s death and everything that happened with Peter… we just lost touch.”

“Until now?” Stiles hands back the letter. “They’re asking permission to enter the territory.”

Nodding, Derek takes it, unfolding and refolding the paper carefully in his hands. “I’ve never hosted another pack before. Mom did it a couple of times.”

“What does it involve?”

“It varies depending on the pack. We would offer them a place to stay and a meal. The Robertson are old family friends so it will probably be a little more informal. More like… what does your dad do when extended family comes around?”

“He hides the good whiskey,” Stiles jokes. “But seriously, this is awesome and, as your emissary, I can help you plan.”

With a roll of his eyes, Derek turns from the kitchen. “You’re not my emissary.”

“Why not?” Stiles whines, trailing behind the werewolf. “I’d be so good at it.”

“At planning or being my emissary?”

“Por qué no los dos?” Stiles says it with an exaggerated wink, dropping back down onto the couch.

***

By six pm the rest of the pack have arrived, and the house is full of loud voices, lively conversation and laughter.

It’s taken a long time to reach this point—a point where the pack trust Derek as their Alpha, and each other. A point where a pack get together feels like… family.

Looking around the room, something swells in Derek’s chest at the sight of Kira and her swollen belly. Sandwiched between Stiles and Erica on the couch, she’s guiding their hands to feel the baby’s kicking.

His gaze flicks across Stiles, laughing at something Erica says, his head thrown back exposing the long line of his neck. A lot of this was Stiles’ doing.

Stiles was the one who had instituted pack night. He’d called it compulsory fun night. He’d begged and bullied every single one of them into gathering at the site of the old Hale house and had turned up with Lacrosse sticks and movies. He’d forced Derek to use his words when he was feeling frustrated and encouraged communication with the pack.

Derek had wanted nothing more than for the pack to bond together properly, so he had done as Stiles told him and in doing so, he’d built his confidence as an Alpha.

Stiles looks up suddenly, catching Derek’s eye from across the room, and winks, before turning back to Kira without even breaking from their conversation. Derek feels his face flush and ducks back into the kitchen to finish cooking.

This was something Derek had initiated. Everyone takes a turn providing for the pack, whether it’s a home cooked meal or take out.

Derek’s made tacos. He sets out meat and salsa and guacamole on the counter so that everyone can serve themselves and starts building his own before the literal wolves descend.

It becomes a free for all after that. Derek snatches his plate and his beer and escapes to the living room. The rest of the pack follow suit, finding places to perch and eat. The house has a more formal dining room, but they really only eat in there on special occasions, preferring to sprawl out in front of the TV.

“Hey.” Stiles drops down onto the couch beside Derek, almost toppling his tacos off his plate. He rescues one, jamming it onto his mouth and crunching down. “So, I spoke to Lydia and she said she can help with planning this pack get together thing.” He continues to talk around another mouthful of food, and it should be gross, but it’s just so Stiles.

“Uh huh.” Derek rescues Stiles’ beer before he sends it flying. “So, if Lydia’s in charge I guess should I be pulling out the tux?”

With a snort, Stiles retrieves his drink and drains the bottle. “You own a tuxedo? I don’t believe you have ever worn a suit in your life.”

“Hey, I have hidden depths,” Derek counters. “I could own a tux.”

“I’d like to see that.” Stiles smirks and brings his beer back to his lips, seemingly forgetting that the bottle is empty. He lowers it quickly, face flushing—though, maybe that’s just the glow from the TV.  Derek tries not to dwell on it.

Sometime around midnight the pack start to either filter out or upstairs. The house is big enough for everyone to stay over if need be, Derek made sure of that when building it, but he’s the only one who lives there full time—most of the pack have houses closer to town.

Derek doesn’t mind that they’re all spread out. There’s always someone over at any given time—usually Stiles. Speaking of, Stiles is sprawled out on the couch, snoring gently.

“Hey.” Derek wakes the spark gently. “You want to crash here?”

Stiles stretches on the couch, his shirt riding up to reveal the pale skin of his stomach. “Wha’ time izzit?”

“Almost one.”

“Oh.” Stiles sits up slowly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah, thanks.” He shuffles off towards the downstairs bathroom and Derek finishes unpacking the dishwasher. “Can I borrow a sweater?” He asks when he returns, his hands wrapped around his body to ward off the chill in the air. It’s two weeks until Christmas and winter has finally settled across Beacon Hills.

“Sure, come on.” Derek puts the last plate away and leaves the kitchen, heading to his bedroom. Stiles follows him upstairs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while Derek digs through his drawers. “Here.”

Stiles takes the sweater and shrugs it on over his head. They’re the same height, but Stiles is not as broad as Derek so the sweater hangs, just a little, on his lanky frame. He paws his hands up in the sleeves and flops back onto the bed.

“I’m so tired,” he whines.

“Then go find your bed,” Derek tells him, nudging Stiles to move. “This one’s mine.”

“Can’t move. Too sleepy.”

“Stiles.”

“Can’t hear you. I’m already asleep.”

With a quick shove, Derek sends Stiles tumbling to the floor.

“Rude.” Picking himself up off the floor, Stiles sticks his tongue out at Derek and trots off to his room.

***

Three days later the whole pack gathers at Derek’s house.

Lydia, as always, has outdone herself with the spread. There is enough food and meat to feed a small army and she has the wolves all rotating through shifts on the spit. The rest of the pack are put to work moving tables and chairs out onto the wide green lawn.

Up on the porch, Isaac has set up speakers to play music while they work.

“One of the wards just triggered,” Stiles says, grinning as he sets down his armload of plates and cutlery. “Must be them.”

Twenty minutes later Boyd is the first to cock his head to catch the faint rumble of a car turning on to the winding track that leads up to the house. By the time their visitors pull up onto the grass, everyone (bar Scott and Jackson on spit duty) is gathered around on the porch.

“Alpha Robertson,” Derek greets walking up to the newly arrived group.

“Alpha Hale.” The werewolf’s mouth ticks up in a smile. “It’s good to see you Derek. It’s been too long.”

“It has.” Derek returns the smile. “Sarah, this is my pack,” he says, turning and gesturing to the curious faces lining the porch. He almost knocks his hands into Stiles, who is hovering a half-step behind him.”

“Stiles Stilinski,” he says pushing forward, arm outstretched in greeting. “Pack emissary.”

Derek barely restrains rolling his eyes in front of the older Alpha, turning to hide his face under the guise of beckoning forward the rest of the pack. After they’ve made their introductions, Sarah introduces the pack to her husband and three children, Alex, Mark and Lilah.

“So, what brings you out our way?” Stiles asks as they all walk back up to the house.

“My eldest joined the Thomson pack earlier this year,” Sarah explains. “We’re heading up to visit for Christmas.”

“She’s gonna have a baby,” the youngest kid, Alex, offers shyly from behind his mom.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Stiles tells him. “So, you’re going to be an uncle. I’m going to be an uncle soon too,” he says with a conspiratorial whisper and a head nod towards Kira.

“We’re not much for flying,” Sarah continues, “and we thought the trip might be a good opportunity to visit.”

Nodding, Stiles leads the way into the house. “Derek said you were friends with Talia.”

“We’re actually related.” Sarah grins when Stiles skids to an abrupt halt. “Third cousins?”

“Through Dad,” Derek confirms.

“What?” Stiles turns to Derek. “But you said- I thought your dad was human.”

“He was.”

“Huh. Cool.”

They show their visitors to their guest rooms so they can put down their bags and then take them outside.

Dinner is a rowdy affair.

There are fifteen of them crowded around the two long tables that have been dragged onto the grass. Once the younger members of the Robertson pack, namely Alex and his older brother Mark, get over the shyness of meeting strangers it’s every man for himself as the food is laid out.

“So, who’s manning the fort back home?” Stiles asks, leaning across Derek to talk to Sarah.

“Stiles,” Derek warns, nudging the human away from his plate. “You can’t ask that, it’s not polite.”

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles says, looking genuinely apologetic, but then he barrels on anyway. “I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just this guy here-” he pauses to bat at Derek’s shoulder “-keeps telling me we can’t leave the territory unguarded whenever I try to suggest getting away for a few days.”

“It’s fine,” Sarah is quick to reassure them. “My sister is looking after things while we’re gone. And Derek’s right when it comes to new packs.”

Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles as if to say, ‘I told you so’ and ducks another playful swipe.

“But you’ve been Alpha for what, seven years now?” She asks. “And Beacon Hills has been Hale Pack territory for, I don’t know, generations, not to mention those wards we passed on the way in.” Sarah points to Stiles. “That was you?”

Stiles nods quickly. “Yep.” He accepts the bowl of baked potatoes from Boyd. “So, what you’re saying is that Derek needs to get out more? ‘Cos that’s what I’m hearing.”

“I’m saying that it’s okay to take a break occasionally.”

Stiles laughs, his knees knocking into Derek’s under the table. “Derek doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

***

The full moon falls two days after the Robertson’s arrive and Derek invites Sarah and her family to run with them through the preserve.

It’s a Saturday and most of the pack have taken the weekend off, so they spend the day at the pack house, working off the restless energy that comes with a full moon. As the afternoon rolls on the games get rougher and someone digs out the lacrosse sticks.

“Count me in.” Stiles jogs over with Scott and Isaac and snatches up one of the sticks, twirling it in his hands.

“Is that a good idea?” Mark, the middle Robertson child, asks. “A human playing against werewolves?” He looks to Derek, tone dripping with cocky arrogance but Derek just shrugs.

“Oh, to have the confidence of a fifteen-year-old werewolf,” Stiles sighs, scooping up the ball. “I could have used some of that as a teenager.”

“Could have used some of the athleticism too,” Derek quips, knocking Stiles with one shoulder.

“Oh, you can shove it,” Stiles grins stumbling away, still in possession of the ball. “You playing or what kid?”

“Fine,” the young werewolf shrugs. “It’s your funeral.” His eyes flash gold.

“That’s not that impressive,” Stiles tells him. “I can do it too.”

“But you’re not a wolf.”

“So many doubters today.” He closes his eyes for a moment and when they re-open they shine bright with the power of his spark.

“You going to play or just keep showing off?” Boyd asks.

Stiles grins, playfully baring his teeth “Oh, it’s on.”

The moon finally breaches the horizon just after four pm. It’s not yet dark enough to go running through the preserve, but some wolves start shedding clothes and skin, sprouting fur as they shift from two legs to four.

The lacrosse game is forgotten in favour of chasing each other around the clearing.

“Don’t even think about it,” Stiles warns, backing away from Derek. “We will not be playing chase the human tonight.”

Grinning wolfishly, smile wide and full of teeth, Derek makes a big show of slowing kicking his sneakers off.

“I’m not kidding Der, I will end you.”

“Better start running,” Derek teases, pulling his shirt up over his head. From the corner of his eye, he can see the rest of his pack watching with various shades of amusement.

“Fuck you buddy.”

Derek can tell there’s no heat behind the words and Stiles is trying to hold back a smile. He’s bolting off around the house before Derek’s shirt has even hit the ground.

“Go on then,” Stiles says once it’s finally dark enough to enter the preserve. “Pick on Stiles time is over; I need a nap after that.” He sprawls out on his back in the grass, staring up at the sky. It’s a clear, cool night.

Derek stands over him, nosing at Stiles’ hair then swinging his head towards the trees. He takes a half step, waiting for Stiles to follow.

“I think I’m going to hang here with the women and children,” Stiles says, craning his head back. “I’ll just slow you down. You have fun though.” He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Derek’s coarse fur before giving him a gentle shove towards the forest. “Go on.”

With one final glance over his shoulder, Derek trots off into the trees.

***

By the time they return to the house, everyone is exhausted. Derek immediately searches out Stiles as he re-enters the clearing. He’s easy enough to find, sitting by the dying bonfire chatting to Kira. The red glowing embers illuminate their faces and cast deep shadows across the lawn.

Derek pads over to them, drawn to Stiles like a moth to flame, flopping down in the grass beside Stiles.

“Good run?” Stiles asks, slumping back so that he’s half leaning against Derek. The werewolf lets out a soft contented rumble. “Mm, glad to hear it,” Stiles mumbles around a yawn.

“Ugh, it’s late,” Kira complains from where she sits. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you boys tomorrow.” She stands with Scott’s help, and waddles back towards the house.

“I think I’m going to call it too.” Stiles pats Derek on the shoulder and stands slowly, taking the time to stretch before heading inside.

Derek waits until he’s inside before he heads off in search of his discarded clothes, still sitting and collecting dew on the grass. He shifts, picking up his sweatpants and shaking them out. He pulls them on and makes his way towards the porch.

“You should be proud of what you’ve created here.” Sarah joins him at the top of the steps. They lean against the porch railing and watch the wolves still sprawled out in the grass after the run. “You’ve built a strong pack. I know Talia would be proud of you.”

Derek ducks his head. There’s a warm feeling in his stomach at the Alpha’s words. “I didn’t think I’d find this again.” He confesses, voice low. “And, for a while I didn’t think deserved it.”

There’s a familiar footfall behind them and the comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt.” Stiles wanders up beside them. “Can I borrow a sweater?”

“Did you return the last one you ‘borrowed’?” Derek asks.

“Hey,” Stiles leans against him, one arm slung across Derek’s shoulders. “It’s not my fault your clothes are so damn comfy. If you didn’t want me taking them, you should have bought cheaper, scratchier sweaters. Ever think about that Der?”

“Fine,” Derek gives in quickly, waving Stiles off before he can launch into another tirade on the superiority of Derek’s sweaters.

“Thanks.” Stiles trots off, letting his hand trail across Derek’s back.

“You guys are good together,” Sarah says, her voice warm. “You’re lucky to have found a mate like Stiles.”

“Mm,” Derek nods, eyes following Stiles back towards the house. The words sink in and he freezes, mind frantically replaying every interaction he’s had with Stiles over the last few days, wondering how they could have possibly given her that impression.

Stiles is- he’s Stiles. He’s funny and smart and kind and— they’re not mates, no matter how much Derek might wish otherwise.

Still, he doesn’t correct her.

Instead, he makes some mumbled excuse about being tired and escapes to his bedroom.

That, at least, is the truth. It’s been a long night and now the sun is just beginning to peek up over the horizon. Derek feels as though he could sleep for a week as he climbs the stairs to the second level and throws his bedroom door open ready to crawl beneath the covers.

“Stiles.” He nudges the lump half hidden under the covers. “This isn’t your bed.”

The younger man murmurs something unintelligible and rolls onto his side.

With a sigh, Derek pulls back the covers, and climbs into bed.

***

He’s warm when he wakes.

So, very warm.

There’s a line of cinnamon scented heat pressed down the length his chest. Lying there in the soft space between sleep and wakefulness, Derek feels more comfortable that he ever has in his life.

And then the warm body in front of him shifts and Derek is suddenly very aware that Stiles is that warm body. He must have pulled him in to his chest at some point while they slept.

Carefully drawing back the arm that had been casually slung across Stiles’ waist, Derek wiggles back on the bed so that he’s no longer pressed up against his packmate. The sheets are gathered around their waists, hiding Derek’s rather unfortunate issue, but it doesn’t hide the pale expanse of skin where Stiles’ sweater has ridden up over his side.

With a bitten-off sigh Derek rolls out of bed and stumbles across to the bathroom.

He stands, head bowed beneath the spray and lets the pounding water rinse away the dirt and sweat that still clung from the full moon run. He tries not to think about the fact he’s still hard, and lets his mind drift, but his thoughts keep coming back to Stiles, stretched out in Derek’s own bed.

With one hand coming up to brace against the wall, Derek palms himself with the other. He allows a single flash of guilt before letting his thoughts drift back to the bed, to the hollow of Stiles throat. He starts slow, working up to a quick rhythm and biting back a soft moan.

He’s close, the pleasure starting to pool in his gut and Derek increases the pace. His mind wanders to the dip of Stiles’ hips between the ruched-up shirt and the low-slung sleep shorts. His own hips jerk in short aborted thrusts and he comes with a swallowed curse.

After washing away the evidence, Derek cuts the running water and reaches for a towel.

Stiles is still asleep when Derek re-enters the room, so he dresses quickly and slips out the door. The house is quiet, with most wolves having only gone to bed a few hours ago, but there’s a soft clatter of someone moving about downstairs.

“You’re up early,” Derek says, stepping into the kitchen.

Scott stifles a yawn with the back of his hand and gestures to the coffee maker that has just beeped. “The baby is awake,” he mutters, reaching for the pot. “Which means Kira is awake, which means I am awake.” He pours himself a generous serving, filling the mug up to the rim, then passes the pot over. “Why are you up?”

“Sarah thinks Stiles is my mate.” The words come out in a rush.

“Yeah? And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

“I mean…” Scott looks uncertain. “What’s the problem? Was that all she said?”

“She said we’re good together.”

“Okay.”

“Scott.”

“What?” Scott leans back against the counter. “You are! You’re like the pack mom and dad.”

Derek waves him off. “Stiles doesn’t even like me like that!”

Scott scoffs against the rim of his mug. “What are you talking about? Stiles is crazy about you.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Dude, can’t you smell it? He’s like, super aroused around you, like all the time.”

“That’s just Stiles’ scent. He always smells like that.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Derek’s expression goes blank. “He doesn’t?”

Shaking his head, Scott continues. “It’s only when he’s around you… or talking about you… or thinking about you. It’s super gross.”

“I didn’t know.”

“He’s over here all the time! He’s asleep in your bed right now- don’t give me that look, you reek of Stiles.” Scott refills his mug and moves to pat Derek on the arm. “He likes you man, like, really, really likes you. Honestly, you’d have to be blind not to see it.”

***

The Robertson pack head off the next morning once everyone is well rested. There are fewer people around to see them off— Scott had been called in to an emergency at the vet and Erica had dragged Boyd off to visit her parents.

“It was really good to see you Derek. Please don’t be a stranger.” Derek lets himself be bundled up in a hug before Sarah moves on to say goodbye to the rest of the pack. “Stiles, you make sure to remind that stubborn mate of yours to take a break every now and then.”

Watching from the corner of his eye, Derek can’t quite read Stiles’ facial expression. If he’s surprised, he certainly doesn’t say anything, just returns the Alpha’s hug and cheerfully waves until the car disappears down the driveway.

Once they’re gone, Derek makes his excuses and escapes to his bedroom. Despite Scott’s assurances, he still hasn’t said anything to Stiles.

“We need to talk.”

Derek starts so badly at the voice in his room. “How do you keep getting in?” He asks, turning to face the doorway.

“Magic.”

“Still not funny.”

“Uh, it’s hilarious,” Stiles says, grinning.

“The door was locked Stiles.”

“I know, figured you were either moping about something or jerking off. Decided to take my chances.” He walks into the room, shutting the door behind him and leans against the far wall. “Anyway, you’re dressed, so you probably weren’t jerking off, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’ve been avoiding me since yesterday, something’s wrong.” He’s still smiling, but Stiles’ scent has turned tart with concern.

“It was nothing, just something Alpha Robertson said.”

“I like her.” Stiles gazes at Derek thoughtfully. He pushes away from the wall and crosses the room to sit on the bed. “She seems like a good Alpha.”

“She is.”

“You’re a good Alpha too.”

Derek smiles, ducking his head. It’s high praise coming from Stiles.

“A little clueless sometimes...”

The smile drops from his face.

“Let me guess.” Stiles leans forward, his arms braced against his knees. “Your current mopey face has something to do with what Sarah said before?”

Derek can’t look at him, he stares at the patterns in the carpet instead.

“The other night, she called us mates and you didn’t correct her.”

Derek’s stomach drops as his head jerks up. “You heard that?”

“It wasn’t exactly whispered. She said it right as I was leaving. Why-” Stiles swallows audibly. “Why didn’t you correct her?”

Letting out the breath he’s been holding, Derek asks, “Why didn’t you?”

He watches Stiles’ face carefully, scrutinising every little expression that flickers across his face in that second, reading the exact moment he makes up his mind with the slight lift of one brow and the uptick at the corners of his mouth.

“I wanted it to be true.”

Derek can only imagine what his own face must look like, caught someplace between shock and joy at Stiles’ words. His grin is probably bordering on manic when he says, “me too.”

“Oh. That’s-” Stiles licks his lips and tries again. “Good. That’s good. I’m, uh-” His gaze flick from Derek’s eyes to his lips. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles’ hand hooks into the Derek’s shirt, drawing him in. Fingers tangle in his hair and then Stiles’ lips are on his, warm and urgent.

When they pull away from each other Stiles laughs, knocking his knees into Derek’s.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long.

*Epilogue*

The glare from the window falls right across Derek’s face and he shifts, slowly surfacing from the depths of sleep. He drags his arm up to cover his face, provoking a grunt from the person who’d been using it as a pillow.

Stiles shifts, rolling over to blink up at Derek.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

Derek throws his arm over Stiles’ hip, dragging him in so their bodies are flush. “You’re in my bed.”

“Nuh uh, it’s my bed now,” Stiles teases sleepily, stealing a quick kiss before tucking his head under Derek’s chin.  “Oh.” He pulls away suddenly and rolls to the edge of the bed, leaning over to rummage around underneath it. Sitting back up, he holds out a present wrapped in brightly coloured paper. “Happy birthday.”

Derek sits up against the pillows and takes the parcel. “Thank you.”

“I got you a Christmas present too,” Stiles says. “But you can’t open it until we get to Dad’s.” He gestures for Derek to unwrap the paper. “It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect.”

[smooshjames]

forget you not (v)

how come they don’t make ‘em like you, babe? (or: a night to hold on to)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: ok this is technically the final part of forget you not as it’s currently written, but i may write an epilogue if i’m feeling up to it. but either way, thank you for reading and i hope you’ve enjoyed!! as always, all songs that have been mentioned or will be mentioned are not mine; they belong to little mix. this chapter only has one, which you can listen to here. also, i have a ko-fi, so if you want / are able to buy me a coffee, i would sincerely appreciate it! alright, i believe that’s everything i need so say, so without further ado, here’s part five of forget you not. thank you againn for reading, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: more angst, Implied Sexual Content(tm)

previous parts: one, two, three, four

No one pressed you for details on your conversation with Shayne, which you were glad for. You didn’t even know what to think about it yourself, much less how to explain it to other people, even to your best friends. You went through the last event of the day in a sort of trance, barely speaking throughout the whole interview. If anyone asked you about it, you figured you could just blame it on being exhausted after a long day.

As soon as you were free, you went straight back to your hotel room and locked yourself in the bathroom for an hour so that you could shower and decompress. Once you had scrubbed all your makeup off and changed into more comfortable clothes, you came out of the bathroom and found your hotel room empty. There was a note from Carly that read the following:

Hey Buttercup,

I figured you’d want some time and space so I went over to Alexis and Piper’s room. If you want to talk, or just to have some company, feel free to come join us. We were thinking about going out for dinner so text me if you want something.

I love you. You’re the baddest bitch I ever met.

-- C

You smiled at her thoughtfulness and went to crawl into bed. You scrolled through Twitter for a while but found your eyelids growing heavier as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon. It wasn’t that late, only about eight o’clock, but between getting up early and having such an exhausting day, you soon found yourself dragged off into sleep.

You woke up around eleven, groggy and disoriented. When you sat up, you saw Carly entering your darkened room. “Hey,” you said, voice rough with sleep and disuse. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” she said. “You feeling okay?”

You sighed. “I don’t know,” you said. You dug around in the sheets for your phone and eventually found it. It was almost dead so you went to plug it in. There were no pressing notifications; the only things of note were a text from one of your friends back home and a text from Carly, sent shortly after you’d fallen asleep, which was just her double-checking that you didn’t want anything for dinner. “I kind of feel like somebody punched through my ribcage and started squeezing my heart.”

“I think that’s called a heart attack,” Carly said, smiling. You laughed despite yourself. “In all seriousness, I don’t blame you. This weekend has been utterly insane. I’m gonna shower and get some sleep, though, okay? We need to be up early tomorrow so we can pack before we fly home.”

You nodded. She rooted around in her suitcase for a change of clothes and then disappeared into the bathroom. You considered her words. You weren’t sure if you wanted to go home the next day. You knew that if you left without seeing Shayne, your choice would be made; if you didn’t go see him tonight, you’d probably never see him again.

You made a frustrated sound in the back of your throat. You reached for your phone, found the text from him, and put the address into your GPS. It was only twenty minutes from your hotel.

After thirty or so minutes, the water in the bathroom shut off. You laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling, debating.

The lovesick teenager in you really wanted to go to him, at least so you could see him one last time before you really said goodbye. Maybe if you gave him another chance…

No. That was stupid. You had to remind yourself what happened last time; all the tears, the heartache, the pain. The only reason you got through it was Carly, and then eventually the band.

You wrote music to help yourself cope, and then you met Alexis and Piper, and everything took off from there. If you let yourself give in to the insane idea that he could magically be better this time, you were signing your own death warrant. You knew how things ended with Shayne.

You rolled onto your side so that you were facing away from Carly’s bed and looking at the window. You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but you couldn’t. Distantly, you could hear Carly moving around the room behind you as she got ready to go to bed. You heard her covers rustling as she laid down.

You couldn’t force your brain to be quiet, and after a while, you ended up just staring straight at the radiator on the far wall of the room. Slivers of moonlight were shining through the cracks in the blinds.

Something thumped against the back of your head. You let out a yelp, surprised, and bolted upright. When you turned around, Carly was still laying down and facing away from you, but one of her pillows was on the ground between the two beds. You figured she had thrown it at you. “What was that for?” you demanded.

“You’re being too loud,” she replied. “I can’t sleep.”

“I’m not saying anything!”

She rolled over and looked at you, accusatory. “I can hear you thinking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll try to quiet my thoughts down,” you said, sarcastic. You scrubbed your hands over your face, frustration causing your shoulders to draw tight and tense.

“Please do,” she replied, fake-annoyed. Her voice softened, though, as she continued: “what happened today, buttercup?”

“What do you mean?” you asked. You knew what she was talking about, but you didn’t want to face it.

She rolled her eyes. “I mean you and Shayne disappeared after the Smosh video, and you said all of about three words to anybody for the rest of the day. The girls and I were all talking about it over dinner. If he did something, we can and will make his death look like an accident.”

Again, a laugh bubbled out of you despite yourself. Carly always knew how to cheer you up. But the laugh faded quickly, and the smile not long after it. You sighed. “He didn’t do anything,” you said. “I mean, he just… he said that him and Courtney aren’t dating, and then he said that a part of him is still in love with me, and he said he doesn’t want to ‘leave things like this,’ whatever that means, so he texted me his new address and said I could come over if I wanted to. He said that he wants to talk more, but that if I don’t show up tonight then he’ll never bother me again. The most batshit crazy thing he said was that he thought I was over him. And it’s just stupid because he says he doesn’t want to leave things like this but he’s the one who ended it in the first place!”

By the end of your rant, your voice had raised in pitch and volume. You ran a hand through your hair, distressed. A tear dripped down the bridge of your nose and you wiped at it frustratedly, but with that tear, the floodgates opened. Your throat tightened and you couldn’t hold back a sob. You felt your heart, which had been so precariously stitched back together, shattering all over again.

“Oh, honey,” Carly murmured. She slid out of her bed and moved over to yours so that she could wrap you in a hug. You clutched at her shirt and let yourself be babied for a few minutes, crying weakly against her.

A part of you was disgusted with yourself. You had worked so hard to get over him, and now here you were, broken again after just one weekend. You thought that you’d given all the tears you had to give for him.

Once you had managed to calm down, Carly moved so that she was sitting next to you rather than on her knees in front of you. She kept one arm wrapped around your shoulders. “So now you don’t know if you should go or not?”

You nodded. “I know that if I don’t, if I go to the airport tomorrow and fly home… he’ll keep his promise. That was the one thing he was always good at. And I know that it’s for the best if I just let it die, but something in me doesn’t want this to be the last time we ever talk to each other. Seeing him again, I… I was so sure that I was over him. But there’s a reason I haven’t found anybody else, and the reason is that every date I go on, every guy I’m with… I compare them to him. And no one ever seems quite as good. And now he’s twenty minutes away and I can’t sleep because I just know I need to --”

You stopped short. You had finally found your answer.

“Go, Y/N,” Carly whispered.

It didn’t take more than that. You threw off your covers, grabbed your phone and wallet, pulled on the first pair of shoes you saw, and rushed down to the lobby to catch the first taxi you could find.

***

Shayne was beginning to give up hope, which was a statement, considering he hadn’t had much of that to begin with.

He ordered takeout from your favorite Chinese place. At least it had been your favorite before everything fell apart. He hoped your order was still the same. Once he had the food, he put it in the oven to keep it warm and began straightening up his apartment. He took out the trash, washed the dishes, folded and refolded the throw blanket on the couch, and halfheartedly played Animal Crossing in an effort to take his mind off of the passing minutes.

Eight o’clock came and went, and nine o’clock not long after it.

At 9:30, Shayne went to move the food from the oven to the fridge. He considered eating his but decided against it. If you showed up, he didn’t want you to have to eat alone. Besides, his nerves had completely sapped him of any appetite.

At ten o’clock, he gave up on Animal Crossing and just put on an old comedy special instead. He scrolled through Twitter but found that he wasn’t absorbing any of the words on the screen, so he put his phone down and just stared at his television without really hearing any of the jokes.

A couple of times, a car door closed outside of his apartment and he perked up, hoping against hope. But the knock on his door never came, so he sank back down into the couch and turned back to the TV, kicking himself for being so stupid. Of course you weren’t going to come.

Finally, at 11:30, he sighed and went to get ready for bed. He was halfway to the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. He froze.

“Hey, Shayne, um…” he felt like he could cry tears of joy at the sound of the voice from outside, slightly distorted through the wood of the door but definitely yours. Shayne felt like his bones were melting. “It’s Y/N, I, uh… could you let me in, please?”

He nearly broke his leg running over to the door. He cleared his throat, straightened his shirt, and opened the door. You were standing there in sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “Hey,” you said.

“Hi,” he said. “Um, come in, please.”

He stepped back to let you in, which you did. There was a moment of agonizing silence where you stood on his welcome mat, looking around.

“It’s nice,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Um, sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable. I ordered Chinese for you if -- if you’re hungry. Or if you want water or something, I can get you some of that, too.”

“Actually, I am really hungry. I didn’t eat dinner,” you said. He felt his chest twist with worry, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t have the right to be worried about you. You were an adult, and you could take care of yourself.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go heat it up.”

You mumbled an “okay” and sat down on the couch while he went into the kitchen to heat up your food. He moved through his apartment in sort of a daze, only half-aware of what he was doing.

You looked like an angel sitting on the couch when he got home. Your nose was buried in the book you’d started last week, and it must’ve been good because you seemed to be well over halfway through it. You looked up when you heard the door close and flashed him that smile that made him feel like he was going to implode with the force of his love for you. Suddenly, his palms were sweating and his heart was thundering and he couldn’t breathe.

He felt like he was in a coal mine and the canary had just dropped dead.

“Hey, babe,” you said. “How was your day?”

He barely heard the question. He walked over to the counter and braced himself against it, took a deep, shuddering breath. The ring in his back pocket suddenly weighed a metric ton. Too much; too much feeling, too much pressure. He was pretty sure this was what dying felt like.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? He had a woman behind him that was perfect in every aspect, and that fact was suddenly cloying, overwhelming. It was cold in the apartment but he shrugged his jacket off anyway. He felt shaky, unsteady.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t know why, but he felt panic welling up inside him and he knew he needed out. And then, before he could think it through, he dumped kerosene over his own life and set it ablaze with just four, stupid words.

“We need to talk.”

The microwave beeped. Shayne startled back into the present. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head of thoughts of that night. That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that you were sitting in the living room waiting for him, and if you were waiting for him that meant you were willing to talk. That meant he had a chance.

He returned to the living room with the food and held yours out to you, and he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes lit up when you saw where it was from.

“No way! I haven’t had this in so long!” you said, looking between Shayne and the takeout container like he’d performed some kind of miracle.

For a split second, it was as if the last few years hadn’t happened. You tucked into your food and he did the same with his, and there were a couple of minutes where neither of you said anything. Every so often he’d sneak a glance at you, trying to commit to memory exactly what you looked like at that moment. It was edging ever-closer to midnight, and the moonlight filtering in through his blinds had haloed you in silver light. You looked ethereal and lovely and he could feel himself falling back in love with you with each passing second.

Finally, when you were done eating, you set the takeout container down on the coffee table and turned to him. He did the same. “That was really good,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said. “I, um… I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“In all honesty, neither did I.”

He wanted so desperately to reach for you. His fingers twitched as he fought the instinct to take your hand. He picked at a stray thread on his sweatpants in an effort to occupy his hands. “What made you change your mind?” he asked.

You sighed. “I knew that if I didn’t come tonight I would never see you again, and that was… I don’t want that.”

He hummed low in his throat, desperately trying to quell the hope welling up within him. “I don’t want that either,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He just kept staring at the stray thread on his pants, feeling a little bit like his fingers weren’t his own. “I, um… I said this to Damien earlier, but I guess it’s probably more important that I say it to you. Letting you go was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, Y/N, and if I could go back and change that night I would in an instant.”

There was a long, agonizing moment where you didn’t say anything. He risked a glance up at your face; the silence was unbearable and he needed to get an idea of what you were thinking. Your expression was stony and unreadable. “Please say something,” he whispered. His voice was strained around the tears he was holding back.

“I loved you,” you said. Your face was still utterly unreadable. “I loved you harder and more honestly than I’ve ever loved anybody. And you… you decided that you didn’t want that. That you didn't want me. And Shayne, I wish we lived in a fairytale where everything could just be okay again, where I could just love you again without the past getting in the way, because if we did --” you stopped and took a deep breath. “After you, music became my everything. I worked myself to the fucking bone to get myself where I am, to get myself back to good. And now… now it doesn’t even matter because what the hell is the point of being good if I’m not good with you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “I was so utterly idiotic. I was scared and in too deep and I didn’t know what I wanted. I sure as hell didn’t know what I had. But then you were gone and for a while, it was like what the fuck is the point? What am I doing if I don’t get to come home every night and see you? And I thought about calling so many times but I just… I just couldn’t. I was always too fucking scared, and by the time I worked up the courage, I thought it was too late. I thought you would’ve found somebody else.”

At that, you laughed. “I tried,” you said. “I went on so many dates, my friends set me up with so many guys. But none of them were you, and all I’ve ever wanted is you, so how the hell were they supposed to compare? So finally I just stopped going on dates. I told Carly… I told myself, really, that it was because I was so busy with work. That I’d find someone new eventually. And before I knew it, it had been years and I was still alone because there’s nobody like you.”

Now, Shayne did reach for you. He held his hand out, palm up, a clear invitation. You took it without hesitation, and that simple touch was enough to send him spiraling out of his body. “I still love you,” he said. You squeezed his hand.

“I know,” you replied. “I… I don’t think I can say that right now. I think I feel the same way, but the word, saying it out loud… it’s too much. But I have to leave tomorrow and I’d really like to have tonight to hold on to.”

He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew he shouldn’t do it. He’d already let his hopes spiral entirely out of control. He felt like he had finally reached the light at the end of a five-year-long tunnel, and he’d spent so long in the dark that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the light. You were still nervous, flighty, like a stray animal; one wrong move and you’d be running for the hills.

But there you were, silhouetted by moonlight and looking at him like you needed him to breathe and Jesus, he was only a man. He wasn’t equipped to deal with the fire spreading slowly from his fingertips to his heart and out into his bloodstream.

“Okay,” he said, and for a moment, nothing happened. The room was still, frozen in time.

And then you both surged forward, desperate, like you needed each other to survive. He maneuvered you up and toward the bedroom, and the door shutting behind you sounded a little like the last nail in the most beautiful coffin ever built.

***

The sound of Shayne’s alarm had never been so wonderful.

He sighed as he rolled over, reaching blindly for you. But where you should’ve been he found only sheets, and they had long gone cold in your absence. Shayne sat bolt upright and looked around the room. Your clothes were gone. You were gone.

He almost crashed onto the floor trying to get himself untangled from his sheets. He pulled on the nearest article of clothing he could find and burst from his bedroom into the living room, heart pounding. You were nowhere to be seen. “No,” he mumbled, over and over until the word lost meaning, eyes scanning his apartment desperately for some sign of you. For a few terrifying seconds, he wondered if the night before had been some kind of vivid fever dream. But that wasn’t possible; the feeling of your skin under his fingertips was far too real, far too tangible. It had to be real.

And yet, the only proof that you’d been there at all was an empty takeout container and a note saying that you would call soon.

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Why So Jaded? Chapter 1

c

Ok, so forever ago, I wrote this story called Why So Jaded for the pairing of Synlet (Buddy “Syndrome” Pine/ Violet Parr) and when I originally wrote it- I got halfway through and lost my drive, inspiration and motivation and I gave it a really lack luster/shoddy ending just to finish it and move on to something else. Which I felt guilty over because the story had so much potential to be something amazing. But I didn’t know how to really wield it then. Well, fast forward several years (9 to be exact), and I’ve grown considerably as a writer. And guess what is getting a revamp? This. So to put this into a real setting, I’ve face casted the crew. Bottom right Aged Up Violet Par who is now 24. Middle redhead. (You will not believe what I’ve gone through to find the right face model for him) Bartholomew “Buddy” Pine, aged. 31. Blonde on the left. Phillip Sebastian. Aged 26. 

FFN AO3

Ten years after the events in the movies yet in a modern setting. 

Violet Parr as Invisigirl, has since disappeared from the public eye several years ago. She became a protégé to none other than Mirage and has had an incredibly successful career still working for The Agency but working as a spy and agent behind the scenes and foiled more Villains than most Superheroes combined, all without anyone but The Agency ever knowing that she was the one who foiled them. 

However Superhero Work has it's price- mentally, emotionally and most of all physically and now Invisigirl has to come out of the shadows and work one last job as a public handler for an Aristo-brat, genius, billionaire, playboy- Mr. Phillip Sebastian who has his own tricks and agenda and requests Invisigirl specifically. Which in turn- put's her back on the radar and put's her under an iron clad contract with not just The Agency but with Mr. Sebastian himself. And it's this one last job that will be the answer to all of Violet Parr's problems. After this, she can disappear for good and never, ever, be found again and live in peace and seclusion.  However this job has it’s perks. A handsome asset, one hell of a paycheck and the bonus is that it puts her back into Metroville with her parents and the rest of her family who live just across town, still in suburbia. It's a three year contract and she is already a year in and everything is going perfectly. 

Until- Bartholomew aka “Buddy” Pine decides to try his hand at corporate espionage. His target? Phillip Sebastian. Which complicates- everything- for one Miss. Violet Parr. What’s a girl to do?

Why So Jaded?

Chapter 1

Buddy Pine tried to take a calming breath as he continued to work the safe, inside was gold and jewels and other precious things he could care less about. But in the far corner, in an unassuming box would be the nanochip to end all nanochips. It would give IRize all the edge it would ever need on the market. But the more he fought with this stupid safe combination biometric lock, the more frustrated he felt. The biometrics? Easy to fake and duplicate- it was basically a cake walk for him but getting the right three numbers on the combination? Ironically, almost impossible it seemed. It shouldn't be this difficult. But it was. He had built an empire in his relatively short lifetime of just 31 years on this earth and he was on his way to building a second that would dwarf the first. But a damn combination safe lock? It was practically laughing in his face and taunting his defeat at him and he was ready to bash it with his head or just laser the damn thing open and he was so focused on opening it, he didn't notice how the hairs on his arms and neck suddenly rose up to stand on end but the chill down his spine finally pulled him out of his hyper focus which gave him pause.

"I figured I would find you here," Invisigirl accused only a second later as she dropped her invisibility as she leaned her back against the wall next to the safe and casually folded her arms in front of her, watching him closely while putting on an air of amused disinterest as Buddy nearly jumped out of his skin and had a heart attack before he took a moment to realize what was happening and who exactly had snuck up on him before he recognized his new companion.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that Invisigirl ," Buddy chastised as he stopped for a moment, seeing if she was going to stop him or arrest him or something. Meanwhile Invisigirl was impressed he seemed to know who she was. Most assumed she was another super. But he didn’t. He seemed to know exactly who she was. Interesting. 

In a decade or so she had gone from tween to fully realized Super but she wasn't always walking in her parent's footsteps. In fact very few people even knew where she really stood on the Superhero/Villain or even antihero line mostly because she never did any press or appearances. She had no merch, no public presence and other than foiling a few public villains, she liked to keep her work all behind the scenes and very secretive, if not quite clandestine. She was more of a secret agent and a spy than a superhero and in reality she had done countless jobs without the villains even realizing she was ever involved at all and the few who did realize who had foiled them, rarely got to live long enough to tell anyone who had taken them down, but word had still come out, whispered among closest of allies on both sides. Enough to build a dangerous and lethal reputation among Supers and Villains and even antiheroes alike. It was like she was a ghost most of the time.

Besides, she wasn't even supposed to be here, she was supposed to be half a world away with him, her employer and Buddy’s real competition and target, but who was sadly, one of many competitors. Only about a year ago, there was a paparazzi picture that popped up of her as an assistant of her current employer and it was the first time she had shown up on any radar in the last several years. And it had been an old colleague that had even brought it to Buddy's attention and his jaw had dropped when he realized who she was and ever since Buddy had noticed she got closer and closer to her boss to the point it was rumored that she was his right hand woman if not one woman security detail even though her employer was still guarded by a full security team. A rumor also sprang up that she was also his steady girlfriend because she was his shadow and he never went anywhere without her and coincidentally, it was also the same man who owned the safe he was trying to crack and who had become Buddy’s number 1 rival after his fall from grace a decade earlier. Buddy would have to fire his trackers, they were completely useless now.

"Actually you technically sneaked up on me, I've been here the whole time, and that thing you do with your tongue when you're really concentrating is kinda cute," Invisigirl countered in dry sarcasm with an air of teasing as she examined her gloves, looking for imperfections even though she had carefully crafted her look so that even in the smallest details, she was immaculate. Even her suit had changed. Instead of the traditional red and black of her family, she was in holographic black with sheens and shimmers of the colors of the rainbow with ultraviolet accents and even his eyes could see the brilliant nano armor built into the ethereal fabric that looked remarkably like snake scales. It had been Edna's greatest creation yet and Violet wore it like a second skin. Her long black hair was straightened and even her hair had a super glossy silky sheen as it laid over her shoulder since she had swept it to lay there. She had been growing it out so that it would hit the small of her back and top of her butt when she wore it down, accentuating her gorgeous hourglass figure. While her mother had been bottom heavy and her father had been top heavy. She was perfectly balanced between the two and if anything, ideally and beautifully balanced and proportional, if not dangerously curvy herself and was now a stunning beauty in and out of her suit apparently. Her thick long eyelashes delicately fluttered as she blinked and the wicked curve to her grin was as disarming as her big gorgeous doe eyes in that deep but brilliant shade of violet- that Buddy felt he could get lost in for millennia. But her eyes had many years ago- lost their innocence but gained a sense of worldliness, wisdom and discernment as she looked from her glove back over to his face with a serene if not expectant look on her coquettish features. If Buddy didn't know of her prior, he would think she was the real thief in this situation, if not his competition to get into the safe. And her relaxed posture was clearly non threatening even though he could discern everything about her was in fact, a threat .

But Buddy took her banter and her posture as a sign that she wasn't going to stop him so he continued working the dial, trying to crack the safe and they were silent for a moment as she made no motion that would suggest she was leaving anytime soon as she appeared to settle in and the only sounds to be heard was their breathing. Invisigirl's was calm and even, while Buddy's betrayed just how worked up he was over this combination part of the lock.

"You know, I never thought you would ever be the kind of guy who would do his own dirty work, I thought with this kind of thing you usually used a variety of accomplices, if not some little device or machine, what happened? Your safe cracker device is broken? " Invisigirl instigated as she gave his work a dismissive glance before her eyes traveled up his hands to his arms to the rest of him. Gone was his old suit and eccentric hair style. He was simply wearing black tactical gear and his hair was much shorter, slicked back and still handsome as her eyes took notes of his extensive scarring that even she could see he had been trying to fix with lots plastic surgery so he looked more or less like himself as she refolded her arms loosely under her chest and instead appreciated the painting on the adjacent wall, the glass covering the priceless art giving her the perspective she wanted so that she could look like she was appreciating the art instead of actively watching him as she waited for him to figure out that safe combination as she mentally wondered if she should just open the safe herself to save him this excruciating ordeal because the guy was clearly getting even more flustered now that he had an audience which she thought was telling.

"As a matter of fact, it is. But if you want a job done right, you do it yourself." Buddy managed to answer as he tried to focus on the task at hand as he noticed that answer gave her wicked grin a deeper curve.

"It sounds like you haven't tried to crack a safe in your life, are you even trying to crack it or are you trying to break the locking mechanism by zeroing in on all of those false contact points or will you keep twisting that thing until your fingers fall off?" Invisigirl further instigated as her boredom began to tax her patience. He was supposed to still be a genius. He should have had it by now. She knew she was being distracting but this was bordering on ludicrousy.   

"I don't suppose you know the combination?" Buddy drawled, getting annoyed and frustrated with himself that he was getting so flustered by her distracting and alluring presence, let alone the damn lock.

"Of course I do, the combination is your birthday, the creator is a big fan of yours, perhaps one of your biggest, but I'm sure if you simply asked him for the nanochip, he would have given it to you rather than you going through all this trouble of stealing it from him," Invisigirl answered.

"I didn't know your boyfriend was the sharing type," Buddy quipped as he turned the dial with now deft fingers, opening it now with ease. Invisigirl snorted a laugh and shook her head.

"Well at least my cover is intact," she alluded as she pushed off the wall and stretched a bit- bringing her arm over her head and stretching her shoulders and neck. "By the way it's the box on the left, not the right," She added as she began to walk away, flipping her hair off of her shoulder to her back as a cascade of soft silky black hair began to hang down her back as she gave him one last look over her shoulder to make sure he actually got the nanochip and nothing else.

"Wait a minute, you're just going to let me get away with this?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah, it's not my fault you broke in on my vacation when I'm supposed to be in.. Barcelona? Or is it Madrid? Is that where your goons think I am? By the way, you need to get new ones, they don't blend in at all and their loyalty is flimsy at best, they report their tabs that they keep on you to him before they ever report thier tabs on him to you because his pockets are deeper than yours and who doesn't like to collect at least two paychecks for the same work?" Invisigirl divulged as she continued to lazily saunter away, her hips swaying in a near hypnotizing rhythm that had almost completely distracted Buddy from the safe altogether.

Buddy narrowed his eyes at the contents of the safe, it would be something he would deal with later. "Wait, so he's not your boyfriend?" Buddy inquired as he stowed the nanochip safely away and locked the safe up again before catching up to her and walking beside her for a bit.

Invisigirl gave him a side glance. "Not even close, he has a thing for the thin, ballerina- runway model types, uses them faster than Kleenex," Invisigirl answered flippantly with a waive of her delicate and slender fingers before turning a corner and opening a door to an office and walking over to the window, opening it and getting ready to jump out.

"You're jumping?" Buddy inquired knowing that his exit route was eerily similar.

"Again. Not even close," Invisigirl practically laughed as she tapped on the device in her ear, a sliding door to a small hovercraft opened right in front of them as the outline of it began to warp the view around it as it moved closer to her. "You didn't think I'm the only thing capable of disappearing did you? I would offer you a ride but, something tells me you already have one, see you around Syndrome," Invisigirl bid him with a mock salute as she gracefully hopped from the window sill to the waiting door and into the aircraft.

"Hey, haven't you heard? Syndrome died, like a decade ago, he got pulled into a jet turbine. Horrible painful death. He ain't coming back from the dead." He called after her which made her pause and turn to look at him curiously.

"Did he? Well in that case. Good riddance to him then, the world's a much better place without him." She called back before the door closed and vanished completely again. The only evidence that it was gone was a stiffer than normal breeze. Buddy could just barely hear it fly away and felt his stomach collect a few butterflies as a smile bloomed on his face. A jaded Invisigirl was a sexy Invisigirl and she knew it. Color him intrigued, if not quite impressed as he wondered if he was one of the first to ever get to see her in action and live to tell about it.

[pbandjesse]

Today was not what I had planned. I woke up a 8 to a text from the dentist reminding me about my appointment. That I didnt realize was today. I thought it was thursday. So I am very glad I got up! I had about an hour until I needed to leave though. I had plenty of time to get washed and dressed. James wold soon leave for work and I would get all cute. 

I didnt have high hopes for the dentist. But it ended up being fine. I parked in the parking garage. Forgot the ticket in the car, would go back for it later. And I didnt get lost finding the office this time. 

I did not see the main dentist, I saw an associate. But I loved her. She was so sweet. And while she understood why I wanted the tooth removed, she thinks its salvageable and that insurance should cover it. I got all the xrays and now that I have this insurance I was like. Okay. Im willing to get this fixed, with the caveat that if they get in there and the took is broken (which is what I think), they will pull it. So I felt like things were good. The woman at the desk even called the other office to make me an appointment so I wouldnt have to call and it was so kind. 

I left there in a good mood. I went back to the car to grab that parking ticket, and then went to the fancy grocery store. I got some stuff thats hard to get at the regular stores. And just had a nice time looking around. 

I headed home after that. High spirits. But almost as soon as I got home I get a call from the dentist that they called the insurance and they wont cover anything. At all. Because I hadnt had the insurance for a year?? I have never heard of this before. Like the whole reason I got this plan was because it covered so much of the root canal procedure. And so I started crying. And they the woman tells me that the first of the three appointments I have would cost $1500. So I was just like. I guess. Cancel it. She apologized but I was just like. I did the thing I was supposed to do. I got the insurance. I pay it on time. But I just felt so stupid.

So I was a bit hysterical and I called the insurance with the plan to yell and then cancel the insurance. But once I got through the robot voices I was mostly just very very sad. I knew the person on the phone wasnt at fault. So thats what I said. I was just like. Hey, Im going to start sobbing in a second, I am not mad at you, I know you just work there, but I dont know what to do. I did the thing I was supposed to do but I cant get the help I need now. And she was so kind and right away put in a request to override the year waiting period.  So I have to wait until wednesday to find out if that is approved. But it was a little bit of hope I guess? I called back the dentist and explained what happened and she said to call her back when I get word and that the dentist will see what can be done on their end too. 

Its wild though. Why is that a thing?? I would have gotten the cheaper plan if I knew I wouldnt be able to use any of the coverage for a year?? Like I get its probably my fault but I have never heard of anything like that before. It wasnt even like I hadnt met a minimum for the year, they were just like oh you literally do not have any coverage on procedures until next January. Because you havent had the insurance before. If I knew that I wouldnt have waited for the open market. I would have just. Gotten a plan before that. Its such a shit show. 

It took a while for me to calm down. I was just so drained and upset. 

But I didnt want to lose the whole day. 

James would go out for a long bike ride soon after that. They waited until I was alright before they left. I needed to be alone for a bit though. 

So I cleaned a little. I hung a tapestry. I cleaned the fish tank. I thought about what I will pack for camp. I had snacks. I played video games. I finished making the bed. I changed all the sheets and the took off the velvet duvet cover. I also refolded and sorted out the winter coats and sweaters I shoved under the bed. They are all folded and nice now. 

James would get home before 230. I was laying in bed but once they were washed and dressed again we headed out into the world. 

We walked to the art store. And I got all the new paint I wanted. I got the highlighter colors and a few secondaries I thought would be hard to mix. I am very happy with the colors I got. I may go back to buy some medium. But I am very pleased. 

And it was so nice going out with James. The weather was warm. And It was just a lovely day to be out. We stopped to take pictures with the knock out roses. And I was just really happy. 

Not to long after we got home James got to work making us dinner. And I laid down for a bit. But I never actually slept. Thats alright. I did a little work stuff but tomorrow I will really get into that. 

After dinner I got to work on the painted stool project. I was going to do sprinkles but I decided to do Matiesse inspired shapes instead. I am pretty happy with them!! The highligher/neon colors are a little thin, so I will have to do more layers to cover the sharpie I drew first. I wouldnt have used the sharpies if I knew it would do that. Live and learn. But so far so good. One or two more layers of paint and then I will outline and add texture details using paint markers. But I am very pleased with the project. Next will be the little heart shelf. 

I have been hanging out in bed with sweetP since then. I am very tired. But I am going to go rinse off and put on soft clothes. Tomorrow I am going to do work and art and try to make myself work on store stuff. Because I have been so bad about that. But I have the pictures so I will get it done. 

I hope you all sleep well. Take care of eachother. Goodnight!

[alovevigilante]

....on trying to think of ways to create the process of getting laundry done without actually having to physically do it, and also feeling good... and writing about how to achieve feeling good, thereby creating and experiencing a great life. (Side note: Dave Chappelle yells out the word “bitches” a lot. Maybe not in this instance, but he has in the past. So I’d like you to read this gif as if Dave Chappelle was saying it. And that loving and fun “Dave Chappelle” energy is my intention though out this piece below. Clarity, is everything. 😉 Thank you, the management)

I really want to wear this certain shirt today, but it’s either buried or isn’t, in amongst 3 loads of clean laundry that I proceeded to fold, not put away, and unfold after rifling through it looking for other clothes to wear on other days. It now needs to be refolded, and put away in its proper places. Sometimes when I put laundry away, I shove it into the drawer over other clothes I have also rifled through at other times in my haste, leaving the drawer hard to navigate, cause it now consists of folded clothes shoved on top of other clothes, over unfolded, craziness. I can’t even open the drawers, they’re so chalk full of disorganized chaos. But I haven’t even gotten that far yet. I’m still at the point, where I’m laying on the bed, thinking about the shirt I was hoping to wear today, that I’m also hoping would somehow magically float into my hands from somewhere, but I dunno from where yet, because too much effort. All of me, is upended.

When you don’t keep up with your organization, it becomes harder to find your way, or, in this case, your shirt. So, what do you do, when you are wanting something that you don’t have yet, but you know it’s going to take some effort to get it? Yes. Good question. Now, let’s go back. Did my thoughts make it harder, or easier to believe that I can find my shirt in a timely manner? Ok... 3 loads of mish mosh laundry, not even sure if it’s in there... more implied mess... overstuffed, unorganized drawers, always a pleasure to recall... you feel that? Some would call it, resistance. And it is. I like to call it something way more “nail on the head”. I call it, “I don’t want to frickin do it so I think about how hard and annoying it’s gonna be to achieve it and no, don’t want to, so there, I’ll lay on my bed” syndrome. Let’s choose to call it “resistance” for short.

What some call, “the path of least resistance” is the way to more easily navigate through life, and is only accessible, truly, with your thoughts, and belief that it will be easier for you to choose, easier. So let’s do that. Ok, using my 10 days of endless laundry sitting in baskets in my room as an example, how can I get what I want, and take the “thoughts of least resistance” instead of the action. Cause let’s face it, the thoughts I was thinking, are only going to keep me not only from achieving anything, but it will also keep me stuck to this bed.

So, let’s start with how I feel about this shirt I want to find. Let’s entertain the feeling of that for a bit. This shirt, is fantastic! Why you don’t ask? I’ll tell you! It’s soft, and flowy. It’s really comfortable, and the best part is, I can get away with not wearing a bra in it! Or not, I guess it depends on the beholder. But, it’s a great choice on a Sunday morning where all I have is one errand, so i think I’ll wear it. Great! Good news. We have completed a few sentences of thought, thinking about the good feelings of the shirt. It even has a cool saying on the front, as most of my tees tend to sport. Yes. I like it. Ok. Don’t think sports cause you don’t know about sports... ok. Well, I backslid a bit. Sports, sometimes make me feel, not included with about the 82% of the world population that loves them. Crap.... ok, that’s ok. I’m aware of that. I made a conscious choice, to choose a next better thought (energy) to experience from the last one. Here it is, ready? Who gives a rip! Great! Well, wait a minute... I clearly do, if I mentioned it. Ok, oh no. I’ve gone from one thought (energy) to another about how I’m feeling inadequate. Rats! Ok, rats remind me of the Pixar movie, ratatouille. Cute. I like that. I like both Pixar, and that movie. Ok, getting better. Now, I have one of 2 ways I can go with this. I can bemoan the fact that I too, am a story teller (in my case, most of the time, a story yeller) and I’m out of work and I have no connections to cool people who write stories cause I don’t have a background in animation, OR, I can think about how the rat cooks awesome food for a human who’s trying to better himself, and put trust, in a rat. Crap! That’s not a great thought to have. It’s also, not a real scenario. Let’s choose better.

Let’s try, SHIFTING energies completely. Sometimes when you’re trying to think about what you don’t desire, it doesn’t help you. Because you can’t switch topics and expect a different result. You can, however, switch energies. How to we do that? Ok. Also a great question. Now we’re really getting somewhere, because that question, had the energy of wanting better for ourselves, and that feels better. Yes! Ok! We’re on a roll now! Yes, rolling on in... with the good energy! Evita, is my all time favorite musical. They have a song, called, “rolling on in” or not, cause I’m not good at knowing lyrics, or names of songs. Eh. I used to sing professionally, and now, I’m trying to find myself another completely different career. One that I’d appreciate more, and feel like I belonged in. Well, these thoughts, are ass, and just make me want to continue laying on the bed, cause although I love the people who love them and perform in them, I’m not generally a big fan, of the genre of musical theater. There. Now I feel worse, by that admission, and worse, then when I started discussing my shirt in my clean laundry pile.

My point, however long winded, is this: it’s never about the laundry. It’s about your resistant feelings. So, thinking your way out of things, won’t work unless you can hold a different, slightly better feeling for a certain amount of time. Let’s say, a few seconds. Again, how to we shift the energy deliberately, and stay with it long enough to create a new, slightly better energy we can maintain? Ok, let’s try this: think about the word, BLANK for 15 seconds. Go! I’ll time you...

Did you think about the word blank, and only the word blank? If you thought about other things, don’t worry. Try it again. I’ll wait. Think about the word “blank” without entertaining any other thoughts during that time. Ok? Go! Again, I’ll time it.

Did you think about how I was going to time it and tell you when to stop? Or did you think of the word blank for 15 seconds and time yourself? Either way is cool. One way, is “this Kari broad, is a serious nut ball”, and can make you laugh. Another way, you thought about blankness, for 15 seconds. Either way, you interrupted the momentum of your last energy, and created some new stuff to play with. That’s fun! Play! Yeah! How can I insert that into my daily life in this moment? I know! Just for now, I can stay in my pjs and not get dressed yet. Then, when I feel inspired to, like I’m kinda feeling now, I’ll turn on some tunes, and reorganize my mind a bit around the fact that it will feel so much better to have the laundry cleaned up once and for all til more eventually comes but I won’t think about that last part, shit!

Ok, no problem. Music is still fun. I like Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin, and Nazareth, and a whole bunch of other bands. Let’s just choose enjoy the music, and get this shit done cause my future me will be elated with the cleaned up situation. Yes, I will do that, for the future me. I will choose, better thoughts and actions for the future me. Cool.

And that’s how you take, happiness, into your own very deliberate hands. By choosing to feel better, and feeling, and choosing and subsequently doing whatever it takes, to get yourself there, minute by minute, day by day. The fact is, unless you’re a laundry fanatic, it’s not exactly what most of us want to spend our time doing. But we can deliberately choose to think our way into making the best out of any situation.

Dream on (Aerosmith), or ramble on (Led Zeppelin)? Does love hurt (Nazareth)? Or can it heal your feelings, by choosing it? Only you can decide for yourself. Recognizing and making a deliberate choice and effort to reorganize your thoughts before they get out of hand, like my laundry is, helps. 😉⚡️💕

P.S. I found my shirt! And yeah, it’s a lil wrinkled, but it’s Sunday! And I’m all about the message, and not so much the outside appearance... well... maybe a lil bit of both. And yes, I’m still in bed, cause it gives me more pleasure writing about my laundry, then actually doing it. 🙈🤷‍♀️😉💕☺️

[fanaticalmess26]

Pairing - Analogical

Prompt - logan is secretly the best cuddler,

Word count - 2165

Genre - fluff, pure fluff

Trigger warnings - ??? (Please tell me if I need to add anything but I think this is pure fluff.)

————

Someone else was wearing Virgil's hoodie. He wouldn't usually mind of course, but when he was searching for it at 3am and it was no where to be found, it would have been nice to know.

Virgil had taken a grey hoodie of Patton's instead, as it was laying folded on the kitchen counter and Virgil wasn't in any state to complain. He was feeling restless again and a walk in the cold was all he could focus on. He dressed quickly and quietly, careful not to wake any of his other housemates. (Roman, Patton or Logan.)

He had been quick, back just before 4am, and had gone straight to sleep. Once he had refolded Patton's hoodie, triple checked he had locked the doors and changed into some pyjamas.

He found his hoodie the next day. Pooling around the small frame of Logan sanders. It was dreadfully oversized for the small man and practically hung like a knee high dress but admittedly, he did look comfortable.

Logan was laying on the couch, asleep, with his hand marking a page in a book about astronomy. Virgil took the book, stuck a stray piece of paper in the open page, and placed it nearby. He wasn't sure what to do now.

Just as he began retreating, Logan pulled a hand to rub at his eyes. Then he spotted Virgil.

After he had realised what he was wearing, it was clear he was thinking hard, his brain still struggling to wake up. "Virgil, I- erhm. I must have mistaken your hoodie for mine."

Virgil wasn't angry in the slightest, only rather amused. "You don't own any hoodies, Lo."

"You're- you're right I don't but I-" Logan made a small pout. "Hmph."

Virgil flopped onto another sofa nearby. "Don't sweat it, specs, I'm not mad."

Logan reached for the zip of the hoodie, "I should give this back-"

"No rush. I don't need it anytime soon." Virgil told him, and yawned.

It was a Sunday afternoon, the quietest time of the week. It always was, as Roman was working in an internship for a nearby theatre group and Patton worked weekends at the animal shelter. That left the anti-social librarian and quiet astronomy student in the house.

Virgil was about to remark that Logan looked better in it than he did anyway but the man was already asleep again; practically burrowing into the soft fabric.

The hoodie was washed and folded on Virgil's bed the next day

————

The next Sunday, when the two were alone again, Virgil came across a peculiar sight in the living room. The usually calm and collected man was frantically locating and stacking as many books on astronomy as he could.

"Logan?" Virgil questioned.

"Hm? Oh." Logan's hands were shaking and there were faint purple bags under his eyes. "I have a test next week. And I have to study, only I can't focus."

"Logan," Virgil started again. "Did you sleep last night?"

Logan looked around at the abundance of paper coffee cups and energy-bars. "I couldn't."

Virgil shook his head. "You mean you wouldn't."

Logan just dropped his shoulders and rubbed his eyes. Virgil took his arm and led him away from the stack of books. Setting him on the sofa. He then cleared away as many coffee cups as he could find and the pile of wrappers.

"Take a break." He sat on the couch next to Logan and gestured him closer. "Respect that 'Yerkes Dodson' guys theory or whatever."

Logan looked ready to lecture him but found he was suddenly very, very tired. Sleep was catching up with him and he found he could barely keep his eyes open. Then Virgil was unzipping his hoodie and pulling the soft material around him and he just couldn't resist it anymore. He leaned back, into Virgil and closed his eyes.

"Logan your hearts beating a hundred miles a minute, I'll have to have Remy ban you from the coffee shop." Virgil said in a soft voice, laying his arm over Logan's.

Virgil became aware that he was now trapped under logan and so turned on the TV, parks and rec was playing quietly as Virgil held onto Logan. And although it felt like an alternate universe, he wouldn't change it if he could.

————

When Roman and Patton arrived home at 7, Virgil and Logan acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Patton made dinner, Roman talked about a simply adorable new actor in his class. Their name was Dee and they were 'absolutely stunning' and 'completely breathtaking' in Romans opinion. Virgil and Logan sat on opposite ends of the couch. Like usual.

————

And then there was a shift. A shift in their dynamic. They had previously partaken in casual conversation but often, as the two most antisocial, steered clear of each other and they were fine doing so. Never had they considered spending time with each other as well as not talking.

And so they had become aware of the four hours,  Monday to Thursday, that they were once again alone. Logan arrived home from university at three, Virgil worked from eight 'till two, and the other housemates weren't home until seven.

Logan would study in the living room, and Virgil would do virgil-ey things. Whatever he felt like, usually reading or listening to music but it wasn't out of the ordinary to find him colouring in or even sitting atop the refrigerator.

But Virgil began to take more interest in how Logan would study. Energy bars on hand with Remy on speed dial. So every time Logan got too wrapped up in his books and began to reread pages because he just wasn't taking in the information, Virgil would step in, clear up and wait until Logan fell asleep.

Which is how they lay on a cloudy Wednesday. Logan's coffee was starting to wear off and his eyes began to droop. He leaned back into Virgil, who was nice and warm and that's all that mattered, and began to drift off.

Virgil thought for a moment, his hands wavering in the air for a few seconds, before he placed them gently in Logan's hair. Giving Logan some time to protest if he wanted. And when Logan only sank further into Virgil's warmth, he continued. Pulling through strands and softly brushing at Logan's scalp. Virgil then attentively took Logan's glasses from his face, folding the legs and setting them on a coffee-table. And manipulating the brown hair behind Logan's ears.

Virgil had lost track of time but Logan was surely asleep. Eyes closed, breathing softly, shifting slightly every once and a while. And Virgil thought better of pulling him closer and falling asleep himself.

————

The next day, when Logan was about to call Remy, Virgil stopped him.

"No more coffee, it's only making your eyes shake." Virgil pulled the phone from his hands.

Logan's eye twitched as he said "false- falsehood."

Virgil just narrowed his eyes.

Logan pouted like a toddler at the taller man and crossed his arms. "I have a test in four days!"

"But you're not getting any studying done while you're shaking!" And for the fifth time that week, Virgil pulled Logan away from his 'studies.'

Although, this instance, there was a difference. Logan looked deep in thought for a few moments before he left Virgil standing in the living room. Virgils heart dropped suddenly and he feared he had crossed a line with Logan.

Before Virgil could spiral, Logan emerged from his room with a thick comforter and trailing blankets. Virgil let a breathy laugh escape him.

Logan still looked contemplative, "we're not telling anyone about," he gestured between them "this?"

Virgil shook his head "no, Roman would never let it go."

Logan barely let Virgil finish before flashing a wide grin and throwing the comforter up and over Virgil's shoulders, "good."

————

Although they would never be as affectionate while Roman or Patton were around, Virgil started to notice the subtle differences in Logan's interactions. As if he was becoming more needy for contact. He would be pressed shoulder to knee with whoever was beside him while watching TV, he would put his hand on any of their shoulders as he was saying goodbye or in Virgil's case, he would lean his head on Virgil's shoulder if he was sleepy in movie night.

And soon, Virgil and Logan were in a pattern. Logan didn't even have to be studying (although he usually was) and Virgil would pull him away from whatever he was doing, Logan would bring comforters and sometimes hot drinks, and they'd lay lazily together until ten minutes before their housemates arrived home.

It was perfect, in their opinion.

————

On a rather important Wednesday, Logan stormed home only halfway through his normal school day. It had already been a bad day. Roman and Patton has caught a head-cold and were periodically sneezing on the couch, Virgil had phones into his boss to say he was taking the day off to take care of them and Logan had rushed of to school to get his test results back.

Although, Logan had rather forgotten about Patton and Roman. He was focusing on his dire need of some coffee or some attention. He stumbled into the house and pushed the door closed behind him. Roman and Patton were half asleep, sharing the same armchair in the corner. Virgil was resting, eating a packet of chewy-candy as he sprawled out on the couch.

Logan huffed as he entered the living room and stood directly on front of Virgil. Virgil took in the look on his face and instantly moved the snacks to the coffee table. He made a small concerned noise in the back of his throat and gestured Logan next to him. Logan decided to invite himself directly into Virgil's arms and nuzzled into Virgil's hoodie.

"Bad day, L?"

Logan made a sad sound and continued to use Virgil as a pillow.

Patton and Roman were far too shocked to make any sort of comment. So they just lay there, quietly. It wasn't until Patton sneezed around ten minutes later that Logan remembered. He pushed himself up and traipsed to his room.

"I'm-" Patton sneezed a loud 'achyoo' again and continued "sorry, Virgil."

"It's okay, Pat, I'll just go check on him."

Virgil followed down the hall and knocked gently on Logan's door. A grumble and a "come in." Was heard from inside.

Virgil found Logan in the dark, swaddled in layers of thick comforters and fluffy blankets. He sat down next to him. Logan just pouted before unwrapping the comforter and letting Virgil inside the burrow. And they lay perfectly warm and entangled in each other's limbs.

Virgil carefully removed Logan's glasses and set them aside, pulling him closer in the cocoon of fabric. Logan was now sighing contently into the crook of Virgil's neck while Virgil buried his hands in Logan's hair.

Logan looked up at him for a moment, once again deep in thought, before giving Virgil a small kiss on his jaw and promptly moving back to face his neck.

Virgil wasn't shocked, per se, just overwhelmingly content. And so, he fell asleep.

————

When Virgil woke up, he was thoroughly dehydrated and was in extreme need of some water. He carefully rested Logan's head on a pillow and slid his arm away. He'd be back in a moment. Logan sniffed,

"Virgil?" He hadn't opened his eyes yet. "Where- where you going?"

Virgil blinked, "just to get a drink, L."

Logan frowned but nodded.

Virgil very reluctantly pulled himself out of the blanket mound and stepped towards the kitchen where, to his surprise, Roman and Patton were standing. They were chatting quietly and Roman was toasting some bread. Virgil walked in sleepily and ran a glass under the faucet. Patton gave him a look a proud mother would give, although he was only a year older and Roman winked at him.

Virgil just rolled his eyes and smiled at them before heading back to Logan's room.

Logan wrapped his arms around virgil, instinctively, the second he could reach him. Virgil pulled the fluffy blankets around Logan's shoulders again and tried his best to tuck them both in. Then he let Logan adjust his grip.

"You're the best." Logan murmured into Virgil's shoulder. "I love you."

Virgils eyes shot open but he didn't dare move.

"I love you too, L." Virgil smiled, his eyes dropping closed. "I love you too"

The awesome people who gave me the inspiration are @did-he-just-hiss-at-me

@viva-la-pluto-dam-you

       @astrolightsecret

@phandommember2803

    @silverobsidion-speaks

[falseroar]

((Abe, a monster hunter, is distracted from chasing down a particular Colonel when he hears a rumor that he can’t let go without looking into it for himself.

Based on today’s prompt for Trail 5 of the Ten Trails Whump Challenge, “Muzzle”, this sort of went off track. Like I mentioned yesterday, think of this as a sort of in between story, after ITYC but a few years short of the present day.

Warnings: mentions of blood, animal cruelty, and light swearing))

Abe knew he shouldn’t be here. He had his own leads to follow, his own personal monster to hunt down, but he also knew that as soon as he heard the rumor, as soon as he heard that single word, he had no choice but to come and check it out.

Not that he bothered to share why he was so invested, when he came to this little village out in the middle of nowhere. He barely even had to ask any questions, as the people recognized him as a hunter as soon as they saw him and were excited to share what was probably the first interesting thing that had happened here in years. A couple of guys he didn’t bother to learn the names of immediately offered to show and tell him everything.

Everything about the werewolf.

“When did you say they showed up?” Abe asked as they led him deeper into the woods outside of town. The way they jumped at every crack of a twig and hint of a shadow, he guessed the village probably already had its own stories about the place before the recent arrival.

“Not sure exactly, but three days ago is when it came into the village looking for supplies,” one guy, the taller one who walked with a swagger when he wasn’t nervous, said. “Bought normal stuff for a traveler, but the butcher noticed when it came in and put in an order for meat, a lot of meat. More than one person traveling on their own should need.”

“How did you know that they were alone?” Abe asked, ducking under a tree limb and noting that despite the recent signs of multiple people passing this way recently, they weren’t following a normal trail.

The other guy, who had a way of smiling that made Abe check to make sure his gun was within easy reach, shrugged and answered, “Because there wasn’t anyone else with it? Some of us weren’t sure if it even knew how to really talk to people, the way it mumbled and wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. First sign something was off about it.”

Abe took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying hard to rein in his always short temper. He could save what he wanted to say to that until after he didn’t need these two anymore, although he felt his fingers twitch every time they said the word “it.”

“So how did you go from ‘there’s a new stranger in town’ to ‘werewolf’, exactly?” Abe asked, already prepared to learn that this was a wild goose chase that ended with him nursing a drink and hopes so dashed it was a wonder they kept coming back.

Again.

“Well, at first we were thinking it was a witch,” the taller man said. “Because it started asking around about herbs and plants and that night some of the teens spotted it walking outside the village walls at night, picking something in the moonlight.”

The other man smiled again and added, “And then their parents had a lot of questions about what they were doing out at night themselves, like we all didn’t know the answer to that.”

The two snickered, but the noise gradually died away into an awkward silence when the hunter didn’t join in until the taller man continued his story.

“But then old Mercer remembered that a farmer out near Wayforth told him that he’d seen a big beast back at the last full moon, and three of his cows had been killed by something big, and it would have got into Wayforth if their wards hadn’t held. And wouldn’t you know it, there was a full moon coming up the next night.”

The other man looked over his shoulder at Abe and said, “Well, it didn’t take much to put two and two together from there, did it? Us and a bunch of other men in the village talked about it all night and came up with a plan on how to deal with it.

“The butcher’s wife knew where some of those wolfsbane flowers grow, and they came up with a way to sort of test it, you know? Basically, she ground up some powder, and he mixed it into one of the packs of meat it was supposed to come and pick up. Lo and behold, when it came in the next day, it immediately snuffed out something was wrong and asked about that one pack, and when they said it was just some seasoning that must have got mixed in, it wouldn’t take it.”

The two men stopped when they realized Abe wasn’t following them and looked back to find the hunter staring at them in disbelief.

“Wolfsbane is poisonous, and not just to werewolves,” he pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but they planned on switching it out if it wasn’t a werewolf,” was the answer he got. “Sure, it was a waste of meat, but we had to know, didn’t we?”

The taller man added, “It didn’t want to stick around after that, but a group of us were already set up to follow it. We had planned on figuring out where it was holed up and coming back with something to take care of it for good, maybe a fire or something, but it realized we were after it somehow and took off running.”

“Not surprising,” Abe said. “A werewolf can hear your heartbeat and catch your scent long before you have eyes on them.”

He strode ahead of the two men, eyes on the less than subtle markers from yesterday’s chase. “So you tried to chase down someone you believed to be a werewolf. How’d that go for you?”

“Followed them all the way here,” one of the men answered him, just as Abe found where the trail ended.

It was a cave, or more like a tiny hole under a large rock outcropping, that looked like it could have been home to a bear or some other wild animal except most wild animals didn’t leave a store of chopped wood and gathered stones in neat piles outside.

Abe pulled a lighter from one of his many pockets and looked in before ducking under the low stone ceiling. The small light caught the circle of stones around the cold remains of a campfire, a worn pack resting against one earthen wall, various bags of recently bought groceries, and the mounds of wrapped meat hastily thrown to the other side.

“Why would they come back here when they were being chased?” he asked aloud, only to realize that he was alone. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the two guys standing at a distance from the mouth of the cave with their hands in their pockets, slouched as though they were just waiting around and not scared to come in here.

He rolled his eyes and looked back at the meager possessions left behind. He was surprised the food was still here after an entire night, but then he doubted any animal would be brave or desperate enough to come in here while the scent of a werewolf was still hanging around. The herbs they had been so interested in gathering were carefully sorted and bundled together in separate stacks, and after identifying a couple Abe suspected he knew what they had in mind long before he started looking through the pack.

A change of clothes, barely any money, a piece of paper folded and refolded so many times that it was soft to the touch, and at the bottom of the pack, a tiny drawstring bag that was so tightly knotted that it took one of Abe’s knives to get it open.

A single silver ring fell out into the palm of his hand, the letters inside barely legible with just his lighter to see by.

It took Abe so long to come back out that the two men were visibly relieved when the hunter reappeared and leaned heavily against the rock wall. He blinked a couple of times before remember the paper in his hand, which he carefully unfolded and began to read in the sunlight.

“What’s that?” the man with the uncomfortable smile asked.

“A recipe,” Abe said after a second. “Seen it around a few times, it supposedly makes a werewolf docile if taken on the night of a full moon.”

“Really?” the taller man asked. “Never heard of anything like that.”

“Because it doesn’t work,” Abe said. “Trust me, I’ve seen every so-called remedy or cure out there, and every one is concocted by a con artist or someone desperate enough to try anything. I heard of one guy selling a brew that didn’t so much cure a werewolf as leave them too weak to stand for half a month. Would have killed anything else that drank it.”

There was that smile again as that one asked, “Wouldn’t happen to know where we could get some of that, would you?”

“Not anymore,” Abe answered. “Someone else got to him before I did.”

Abe still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. By the time he got there, there was no sign of the crook, and every note and sample of his “cure” had either been destroyed or taken with him. Just as he wasn’t sure what the man’s fate might have been if he had caught up with him first.

So, one dud recipe to keep a werewolf calm during a full moon, enough meat to keep the wolf occupied for a while, and, judging by the stones piled up nearby, a plan to temporarily seal the entrance to the cave. They were setting up to weather a full moon, and instead these stupid wannabe vigilantes had chased them off.

By the time he was finished swearing, the other two were standing at a distance and looking ready to run themselves.

“Which way did they go?” Abe asked, stepping forward as they took another step back. “What did they look like?”

The two shared a look before the taller man said, “You mean you don’t know?”

Abe led the way back to the village, not outright running but apparently walking fast enough to leave the other two breathless and barely able to point him in the direction of the blacksmith’s workshop. The blacksmith saw him coming and had enough of a sense of self preservation to unlock the door and get out of the way long before the hunter reached him.

Abe slammed the door open and immediately regretted it when he saw the creature on the other side of the room flinch and cower away. The clink of iron chains didn’t quite drown out a weak whimper from the massive wolf that tried, and failed, to stand up as he moved closer. The full moon was gone, but it was possible they either didn’t have the strength or the will to change back.

The hunter stopped short halfway across the room when his eyes adjusted to the light, the crashing disappointment of realizing that the shade of the wolf’s coat and its eyes weren’t the one he desperately, stupidly hoped to see twisting and tangling itself up in the twin ache of seeing the muzzle wrapped around the wolf’s snout and head, the straps so tight after they changed that they were cutting into the skin in some places.

Funny, how quickly those feelings could turn into barely restrained rage.

Without turning around or looking behind him, Abe gathered enough control of his voice to say, “You put a muzzle. On a werewolf.”

The men seemed oblivious to the tone in his voice, but the werewolf’s ears twitched and one tired, bloodshot eye opened to look at him.

“Great, isn’t it?” He could hear the smile in the other man’s voice as he continued, “It was my idea for Blake to grind down some silver into dust, we coated the muzzles and chains in the stuff. Still thought it might escape when it went all hairy on us, but it worked!”

Silver dust. Abe could hear the labored breathing, see the short spasms as each of the wolf’s breaths brought in a fresh dose of poison. There were broken handcuffs on the werewolf’s front legs, below the heavy leg irons that must have been added afterwards to match the pair on their hind legs, both sets clearly old, but what he had mistaken for rust before was actually dried blood. A thick chain connected the leg irons to a ring on the wall which looked one or two more pulls away from being torn off. If not for the silver, they would have been able to escape easily, and under the influence of the full moon slaughtered who knows how many in the village.

He tried to keep that in mind, he really did, but then the man kept talking.

“Silver’s really the only stuff that works on these monsters, isn’t it? We tried all kinds of stuff last night, but nothing stuck. Probably a good thing though, since Mercer talked to his farmer friend and found out the Bronsons will pay out in exchange for a monster their institute can practice on. We just didn’t expect you to get here so fast, or I would have had a little more fun. Although if you want to give it a go, that fire poker over there—”

The crack of Abe’s fist against that stupid smile stung, but it felt good to see the guy crumple to the ground and finally stop talking.

He looked up at the guy’s buddy who was too shocked to do anything and said, “We have a strict policy against...you know what, just generally being an asshole.”

“Uh…”

Before the taller guy could catch up, Abe flashed his hunter’s badge with the assurance that no one in town would know the difference between him and the institute’s employees and started talking quickly. “Right, lucky for the institute I was already in the area. You got the keys that go to these cuffs and locks?”

“They’re on the anvil, but don’t you have a cage or something you need to bring in first?” the guy asked.

“Don’t need it,” Abe said, reaching into another pocket and pulling out a small drawstring bag. “You can’t cure a werewolf, but with the right stuff a good hunter can keep it under control.”

He made a show of holding the bag near the werewolf’s snout, who looked from him to the clearly visible outline of the ring inside the fabric and then back again. This close, he couldn’t tell if it was fear or hope in their eyes, but he knew that they could hear the words just under his breath that failed to reach the other man in the room. They didn’t have a lot of time before Smiles McGee over there woke up, and more importantly before the hunters who actually worked for the institute showed up, but at least he could give them a head start.

“Play along, and don’t make me regret this. Please.”

((Thanks for reading! I do plan on picking up the Traces of Silver series, and I’ve been working on the next story that I am dangerously tempted to title “Dog Days.” Please, someone, anyone, talk me out of this.

Also, it’s been so long I forgot to add a taglist. Oops.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

[shimmersing]

Best Intentions Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

Chapter Five: Trajectory

Aitahea watched, silent, as Brant Sonn ripped the Thul banner down from its place outside the warehouse, tossing the fabric aside and hoisting aloft the blue and gold of House Organa. The adjacent farmlands were clear of their enemies, and she hoped the families that tended them would soon be able to return, to have lives again peaceful and orderly.

The Thul warehouse had quickly become a staging area for the merged Organa and Republic forces once Aitahea’s rescue had been completed. A painstaking search of the building had revealed no trace of the Wolf Baron or his Blackguard, leaving them with only the low-ranking guards who’d been Aitahea’s unfortunate jailers. They would be sitting tight while prisoner exchanges were arranged and negotiations finalized.

The strike team that Aitahea and Erithon had agreed to lead had opted to wait until the following day to advance on the Thul and Sith forces. Qyzen Fess and Aric Jorgan had volunteered to scout the Sith camp, their experience making them ideal for the initial part of this new mission. Elara Dorne had efficiently organized the Organa subjects into something that suggested typical rank and file.

Aitahea found herself surprisingly grateful to be ensconced in the same warehouse in which she’d been held prisoner, working alongside Erithon as they organized the next morning’s attack. Though they’d barely had a moment to speak other than in communication about the impending battle, just being near him seemed to ease her spirits. It went without saying that his presence was making the wait and the work that much more pleasant, delighted as she was to see him.

Her abbreviated captivity hadn’t left her any worse for wear; she couldn’t help but entertain the morbid thought that she probably hadn’t had as significant a rest as those few hours of forced unconsciousness in weeks. Nevertheless, Elara continued to regularly check in with her, and Erithon remained within arm’s reach.

Erithon. She had known, even in the depths of her stupor, the Force still a guiding path for her unconscious mind, that she was safe and would eventually be rescued. But waking to that particular set of blue eyes? A dream come true.

“Jedi?” He appeared at her shoulder again, real and warm and safe; Aitahea swallowed hard and tried to calm her escalating heartbeat.

“Yes,” she answered, scanning his face again. Again.

She was looking at him too much. Someone was going to notice. Someone else, since the duke and the sergeant had obviously already witnessed her absolute nonsense upon awakening from the drug-induced sleep. What had she said? I was just thinking of you? She wanted to simply blame it on the drugs, but when he’d pulled her in close, what he’d said… How is it you end up in my arms every time we meet?

All she had managed at that singular moment had been a giggle. Honestly. Honestly.

“We’re close to done here, if you want to take a break. You’ve been going nonstop since you woke up.” He was trying to smile at her, but a crease kept appearing between his brows. Even had she not been a Jedi, his worry would have been palpable.

“Thank you, I think you’re right. Today has been… remarkable, to say the least. Like this, since before I arrived.” She waved a hand at the bustling warehouse before offering a rueful smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to see your holo. It’s just been…”

Erithon chuckled. “It wasn’t urgent, I mean. I just wanted you to know I was on the way here. Worked out after all.”

“It has indeed.” She folded and refolded her hands, eyes flickering to where Elara Dorne gave a small squad some cursory training drills. “Your team has grown since Taris.”

“Yeah, Sergeant Dorne is great. She joined us on Taris, actually.”

“Her accent…”

“Yup. She was an Imperial citizen. Didn’t like how they did business on the other side, so she joined us.”

“That’s incredible.”

He shuffled, distracted for a moment by some sheets of loose flimsy that shifted when he tried leaning against a table. “So, this is where you grew up, right?”

She smiled, delighted. “You remembered.” Much to her continued wonder, he blushed and stammered over the next few words.

“Hard to forget.” He paused, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath before continuing in a rush. “Well, we’ve sort of been on this, uh, trajectory, right? I mean we practically flew into each other over Nar Shaddaa.” He quieted and stepped closer, something wistful on his face. “Looking at the same stars over and over again.”

The rest of the room seemed to hush along with him, but even so, Aitahea could barely hear anything over her madly rushing pulse. Stars. She had a sudden wild urge to embrace him, just absolutely throw herself into his arms. I must still be suffering the effects of that gas. What am I doing? She promptly quashed the superfluous impulse, instead holding up her datapad.

“You said we’re finished for now? Let’s…” she trailed off, looking around the room for another suitable distraction. “Have a look outside? I’m sure the sergeant would agree to a quick lap around the perimeter, just to-” By the Force, did you just ask him to go on a walk with you? “-see how our allies are faring?” She finished in a rush, looking somewhat desperately for a charging dock for the datapad she still held.

He chuckled again, plucking the instrument from her hands and setting it aside. “I think they’ll be fine. But you seem to need it, so let’s get out of here.” She inclined her head gratefully as he gave her the lead and wasted no time in heading for the warehouse exit.

Aitahea blinked as they walked out into bright sunlight, raising a hand to shade her eyes. The farmland they’d be crossing tomorrow was lush, already planted with crops that she hoped would survive the battle. A farm vehicle still smoked among some of the scorched plants, but the Jedi felt certain that their team wouldn’t allow any more harm to come to the farmlands or its people.

Erithon fell into step next to her and angled their path toward the coast. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the rocks that marked the edge of the coastline, heedless of the light snow that had gathered in the shade of the evergreens. The sea churned against the rocks, calm but still very, very far below.

“What a view. Come on.” Erithon broke the silence, clambering onto a boulder and turning to offer her a hand. “Aren’t scared of heights, are you, Jedi?”

Aitahea laughed, recalling with some amusement when he’d pulled her to the edge of a much smaller, much nastier body of water on Taris, and reached to take the proffered hand. “I am not, fortunately. But I must admit that thranta is one of my least favorite forms of transportation.” She nodded toward a nearby platform where a few nests were visible.

“Those big bird things? Yeah, no thanks. I’ll take a speeder.” He pulled her close, sliding his free arm protectively around her waist until she had her footing.

Aitahea took a long breath, fighting the urge to look anywhere but his eyes, earnest and warm and still a little worried. Oh, I missed you, she thought and swallowed hard to keep the words to herself. They were well back from the edge of the sheer rock face, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bereft when he released her and dropped his hands back to his sides.

She turned away from the coastline, looking back toward the battered towers of Organa Castle. “Tell me about how you regained the Spears of Organa. The Duke only gave me a brief outline, but he wasn’t able share any details.”

Erithon grinned at her. “It wasn’t what we expected to be doing as soon as we were dirtside, that’s for sure.” He straightened, squinting at the surrounding landscape for some point of reference. “Haley Organa caught us at the spaceport, desperate as anything, asking us to disarm some baradium bombs. That was the first we saw of these Thul clowns.” He pulled a face, like he’d gotten a whiff of something foul-smelling. “Didn’t like their tactics at all. They fought dirty, set up ambushes all around those turrets. Took all three of us, if I’m being honest.” Any bashfulness he’d displayed since their reunion fell away as he spoke of his companions, giving way to a steadfast and proud commander. “Havoc’s becoming a good team.”

The Jedi had seen more than a few Republic military recruitment posters in her travels, but they paled in comparison to Erithon standing before her now, dashing and capable. Her fingers quivered as she reached out, but she placed her hand on his arm anyway. “They have a good leader.”

He gazed down at her, pensive for a moment before he broke into one of his now-familiar lopsided grins. “Just doing my job, Master Jedi.”

“You…” Aitahea pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, considering her hand on his arm before she lifted her eyes to his again. “Please, call me Aitahea, won’t you?”

“Of- of course. Aitahea,” he stammered in reply, and it was like hearing it for the first time. He hesitated for a beat before placing his own hand over hers, fingertips cool against her flushed skin.

Her breath caught in her throat, chased by a feeling like falling. Like gravity failing. Suspended and unsure how to move, what to reach out for. Oh stars.

“Lieutenant?”

Both their heads swung hastily toward the unexpected voice. Aitahea slipped her hand back to her side as surreptitiously as possible and willed her burning cheeks to cool. Aric Jorgan and Qyzen Fess approached, looking none the worse for wear, returning from their scouting mission. Jorgan saluted efficiently, while Qyzen remained unreadable as usual.

“Ready to debrief, sir. We’ve got footage to show you in the warehouse.” He nodded to Aitahea. “Master Jedi, we’ll need your assessment in particular, I think.”

“Many Sith,” Qyzen rumbled. “Soft things, but dangerous still.”

“Never a dull moment,” Erithon drawled, giving a perfunctory shrug. “Guess we better get back to work, huh?”

Aitahea nodded solemnly, tucking away the lingering feeling of loss that had lodged in her chest. “Indeed. Let’s head back.”

“Herald, a word,” Qyzen said, and Aitahea tilted her head.

“Of course, Qyzen.” She nodded to the Trandoshan, then to Erithon and Jorgan as they looked at her expectantly. “We’ll catch up shortly.” The Cathar shrugged, and Erithon gave her a smile and a wave as they turned back toward the warehouse.

She watched until they were out of hearing range, then turned to see Qyzen uncharacteristically fretting, a divergence from his usual composed demeanor. “Is something wrong, Qyzen?”

“Would ask the same.” His single seeing eye focused on her hands. She had one covering the other, as if she meant to hide the place where Erithon’s hand had lingered on hers.

She stiffened, sweeping her hands behind her and clasping them tight. “Nothing’s wrong, Qyzen. Why?”

Qyzen’s only answer was his own question. “When is last time Herald spoke to Yuon Par?”

Perplexed with the apparent change of subject, Aitahea shook her head. “Is that what you’re worried about? It’s been… weeks, I’m afraid. But she’s well; I can sense that much through the shielding.”

“Certain she is, Scorekeeper’s Herald.” The Trandoshan considered her for a long moment. “It is you who are not. Should speak with Yuon. For own sake.”

Aitahea nodded somberly. She glanced over her shoulder just as Erithon paused one final time before he and Jorgan disappeared into the warehouse. The consular closed her eyes and pulled in a deep, slow breath. “I will, Qyzen. I will.”

Best Intentions Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |  Chapter 7 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify