#so i ordered that but they’ve sent me apple and cinnamon instead

[fingertipsmp3]

The other thing that’s happened is I got sent the wrong deodorant so now I either have to contact customer service, or spend three months smelling like apple and cinnamon (which I didn’t even know was a scent they offered)

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

She’s Not Afraid (Girls Talk Boys part 21)

She's not afraid of all the attention She's not afraid of running wild How come she's so afraid of falling in love She's not afraid of scary movies She likes the way we kiss in the dark But she's so afraid of f-f-falling in love 

A/N I’m afraid to post links on these now, but you can always message me. I’m still trying to figure out how to do a masterlist

“I can't believe Camille is making us do the shopping” Cher grumbled as they pulled up to the store.

“You lot are the ones making her cook on one of her busiest weeks of the year, whatever that means.”Ashton came around to open her car door for her. That was something Cher didn't know guys did in real life.

Ashton grabbed a cart and Cher pulled up the shopping list Camille made on her phone.

“She really could've ordered this online.” Cher was still pouting.

“I'm pretty sure she just wanted to get everyone out of her hair.” Ashton chuckled. “She even chased Cal away so she could work.”

Cher huffed pouting until Ashton came up beside her. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before murmuring in her ear.

“If you're a good girl today I just might reward you”

Cher felt her irritation vanish and she brightened up anticipating what kind of game Ashton might have in mind.

“Ok let me see the list.” Ashton took charge. “Potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery”

“Celery?” Cher made a face. “So gross”

“How can you hate celery” Ashton was amused.

“Celery is evil.” Cher put the veggies in the green cloth bag. “Any other produce or are we done with this one?”

“Yeah a bag of cranberries, two oranges, a lemon, 2 limes, and 3 green apples. What's with the different color bags?” Ashton was a bit puzzled.

“They're reusable so yay there's that.” Cher gathered up what she needed. “They are color coded so we know what department we need and where it goes in the kitchen. Green for produce, white for dairy, brown for deli meats. See these are insulated so everything stays cold. I can tell you we can skip the meat department because I don't have the yellow or red bag.” Cher checked the bag that held the bags.

“Did Camille come up with this?” Ashton asked clearly amused.

“She came up with the color system because she's paranoid about cross contamination. If you ever get that bitch started on e coli I will walk straight out of the room and leave you to your lecture. Once you get used to it it's really efficient.” Cher shrugged. “Ok baking stuff.”

She headed down the aisle.She grabbed the usual, flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and then a can each of condensed and evaporated milk.

“What's that for?” Ashton peeked in the bag.

“She's making a tres leches cake” Cher told him. “Ok it says oil but she isn't specific so I'm gonna get what's on sale. I never knew there were so many kinds. Coconut oil, peanut oil, sesame oil, almond oil. Wait isn't they what they used for our massage that day?”

“Let me see” Ashton stepped up behind her grabbing her hand with his as he pulled the bottle closer. For just a second he pressed his body into hers. It happened so fast she thought she imagined it except for the shiver that shot down her spine.

“Mmm maybe don't remember” Cher jumped at how close his voice rumbled next to her ear, but when she turned around he'd backed off and was studying the shopping list.

Cher frowned, perplexed but decided to keep moving. Ashton didn't stop. He kept touching her in little ways. His hand pressed just below the small of her back as he reached past her for the green beans. Little traces from his fingertips along her arms and wrists when he took the shopping list from her. “So what was your thanksgiving like as a kid? I know Cam has the big crazy family, but you don't talk about yours.” Ashton asked trying to make sure he didn't get sugar free Jello.

“Mom usually didn't cook. She did one time when we were teenagers and forgot to tell us. We didn't show up and she hasn't let us live it down yet.” Cher told him.

“You only have one brother right? Camille has two?” Ashton couldn't quite remember

Cher nodded. “A couple of times when we were in foster care we'd go down to the City Rec center and they'd have a big meal for all the kids in the programs. The food was actually decent and we always got a little present.”

She dropped a bag of pecans she was looking at. Ashton practically dove to pick them up the back of his hand brushing against her bare calf.

“What was that” Cher jumped at the touch.

“You dropped the nuts. You gotta be more careful with those” Ashton responded off offhandedly with the tiniest smirk.

“Mmm hmmm” Cher hummed her mind wandering.

“Are we getting a turkey?” Ashton motioned to the crowd forming around the employee bringing out boxes of birds.

“Nah, she ordered prime rib and a turkey breast from a butchers shop. I think she sent Calum to get that.”

“How do you like your new roommate” Ashton teased her.

“He's not over at our house that much really. They've almost got a schedule. Sunday night he comes over for football but doesn't stay the night because Camille works her ass off on Mondays. Tuesday is their day together usually at his place. Friday is date night. He bought me some kick ass noise canceling headphones so we're all good.” Cher shrugged.

She stopped abruptly when she saw a display for green bean casserole. Ashton, trailing behind, ran right into her. As he stumbled, catching himself by grabbing her arms, Cher felt the faintest touch of his lips against her shoulder. Or did she? It was maddening.

They finished shopping and loaded up the car. Cher was hoping Ashton might give her a hint at her reward. Instead he just turned the radio on and drummed his fingers on her knee along to the beat.

Getting back to the house Ashton had to admit the bag system helped in putting the groceries away. He also enjoyed that the kitchen was confined enough that he could “bump” into Cher several times while bending or reaching to get in the cabinets. It was killing him not to grin when he heard her little gasps when he touched her or saw the little glances she threw his way. He wanted so badly to pull her to the floor and take her right there in the kitchen.

He had to be patient. He had to keep her wanting. That was the only way to get what he wanted.

They'd just finished with the groceries when Harry knocked on the door. Cher was surprised to see him, normally he didn't get involved in the work side of the parties they threw. He'd volunteered to get the baked goods because he wanted Cornish pastries and sticky toffee pudding. Camille had agreed if he bought them she'd heat them up and make the sauce. She'd also gotten him to pick up a bag of yeast dough so she could make rolls.

It wasn't until Calum showed up with the butchers bags about 15 minutes later that Camille came downstairs. Cher was always amused when Camille came down from filming looking Hollywood from the tits up and couch potato from the waist down. Cher tossed her a bottle of cold water which she caught and chugged while making her way to Calum at the refrigerator. Camille gave Calum a kiss before greeting the other men.

“Harry thank you for getting this dough for me. I'm gonna make the sauce tomorrow just when these are heating up” Camille smiled at Harry.

“I hope you like the Cornish pastries” Harry grinned at her. “They're not easy to get out here.”

“I'm sure I will.” Camille peeked in the bag. “Ooh you got a chocolate cream pie. Cody is gonna love that.”

Ashton handed Camille a glass of wine.

“Thank you sweetie.” Camille turned to where he was standing next to Cher. “Ashton, thank you, seriously you're the only one I can trust with this.” Camille raised her glass before downing it.

“Guys seriously I have like five more videos to do and then I'm done for tonight. There are three games tomorrow and I have to do player forecasts as well as match up reviews. If y'all could peel and soak the potatoes and brine the turkey breast that would be awesome. I'm gonna finish filming. Give me about an hour and I'll be back.” Camille held her glass out for a refill before heading upstairs. Harry said his goodbyes and Calum followed Camille leaving Ashton and Cher in the kitchen alone again.

“You look really cute right now” Ashton smirked at Cher. He kissed her on her forehead “ok let's peel some potatoes.

Camille was touching up her makeup when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.  Calum entered and hovered by the edge of her bed.

“What's up sexy man” Camille met his eyes in the mirror.

Calum hesitated and Camille saw the frown on his face. She stopped and turned around. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Well it's just, why did you say Ashton was the only one you trusted with this? You know you can trust me right?” Calum peeked up at her.

“Babe,” Camille stopped what she was doing “Did you want me to put you in charge of helping me plan thanksgiving?”

Calum shook his head.

“Ok so you didn't want to do it. I knew you didn't want to do it. You knew I knew you didn't want me to ask you to do it. If I asked you to do it you probably would've asked Ashton you help you right?” Camille raised her eyebrows and Calum nodded.

“Ashton and I have worked together before putting together parties and we're already talking about what we're gonna do for your birthday. So why don't you tell me what is really bothering you.”

Calum sighed and ran his fingers through his curls. He looked at her with those big brown eyes “it still bothers me that you're close to Ashton.”

“Come here” Camille told him and he crossed the room. “Ashton and I are friends. I'm dating his best friend and he's flirting with mine. You need to get past whatever this is.”

“Have you ever thought about fucking Ashton” Calum blurted out before biting his lip as if that could take it back.

“Of course” Camille shrugged “Luke too if I'm honest.”

“Luke? Seriously?” Calum's jaw dropped.

“I saw him run through the house naked and I've listened to him fuck so yeah Luke too. It was a moment. Both of them. I haven't tried anything. I haven't fantasized about them. I'm going to continue to be friends with your friends. That means Ashton.” Camille reached for the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“What are you doing” Calum's voice dropped lower.

“I think my jealous boy needs some attention so he knows he's the only one I want” Camille hesitated before sucking him off. “Just try to be quiet, please and don't touch my hair”

Thanksgiving day Camille had chased everyone out of the kitchen and had her music blasting. Cher and Calum were only allowed in for brief visits. Ashton had the prime rib in his oven. Luke had the turkey and Camille was baking. She'd made the cranberry orange relish the previous evening while punching down and measuring off her dough for the rolls.

Camille had taken a break to do a live interview on the day's games. Finally with work and the food finished and everyone slightly buzzed they could sit down too eat. Camille sat at one end of the long “table” they'd managed to cobble together. Calum sat to her right. Beside him was Mikey, Crystal, Nick and Cody. Harry occupied the other end with Luke, Cher, Ashton, Tom and Lucy sat in order.

Lucy asked if she could say grace and then during the meal she suggested they go around the table and say what each one of them were thankful for.

Lucy stood up the pre dinner wine making her sway just a bit. “I'm thankful to have such good friends and my sweet baboo Tom”

Tom was next “I'm thankful for my career, my friends and my lovely Lulu.”

Then Ashton “I'm thankful we have new music coming out and that you girls showed up to make the place interesting again.”

Cher stood up “I'm not good at stuff like this. Ok let me think. I'm thankful for my Cody I'm so glad I'm out here with you. Vexxed is taking off and I'm friends with all of you which is crazy.  I've only been here since August but I never want to leave. Thank you Camille for dragging me out here.”

Luke was next “I'm thankful for my band, my Petunia and all the wonderful people I've met this year.”

Harry kept it short. “I'm thankful for finding decent Cornish pastries.”

Cody was more animated “I'm so glad you bitches moved out here. Y'all are killing it.”

Nick mumbled out “My career, um my boyfriend

It's been a good year.”

Crystal got choked up when talking about the past year but she managed. “Michael, for being my rock, my sweetheart, my everything.”

Michael followed that with talking about the adorable kittens they were fostering. “My band is fucking awesome, I have the best girlfriend I'm thankful to just be me right now”

Calum stood up leaned over and kissed the top of Camille's head. He looked at everyone and simply said “Her” before sitting back down.

Everyone looked at Camille. She stood up her knees weak. She didn't dare look at Calum. Releasing a shaky breath she found her voice. “When we moved here I never could've imagined all of this. I can't believe this is my life.” She looked at Calum “I can't believe any of this is real. This isn't supposed to happen to girls like me. If this is a dream y'all better let me sleep because I will hurt the person who wakes me up” She was interrupted by the alarm on her phone.

“Oh shit that's the rolls be right back” Camille ran into the kitchen.

After dinner and dessert most everyone hung out to watch football, have a few drinks and digest. Camille was yelling at the tv. Tom, Lucy and Calum were laughing at Camille. Luke had taken off to meet up with Summer who'd spent the day with her family. Harry, Mikey and Crystal were upstairs in the studio with guitars and gars. Cher wandered out back to find Ashton sitting by himself. She passed the blunt to him watching his fingers and lips as he held it and inhaled. His wrist wrapped around hers and he pulled her into his lap.

“What are you doing?” Che giggled with a sense of deja vu. Isn't this how it started with Luke?

“Giving you your reward kitten” Ashton whispered in her ear. His fingers gripped her hips. This definitely was NOT Luke. Luke had been giggly and shy. Ashton was smooth and very sure of himself.

“Straddle my leg doll, I want you to ride me “ It wasn't a request.

Cher hesitated looking back towards the kitchen.

“Do it now, before I change my mind.” Ashton dug his fingers in.

Cher adjusted herself as Ashton reached up under her skirt. His thumb brushed against her clit making her moan. He positioned her so that as he moved her hips back and forth she could feel her nerves brush against the bunched up fabric of her dress as he jiggled his leg. Cher whimpered and leaned her head on his shoulder. She could feel her orgasm start to build as she rocked back and forth.

“That's it kitten, you look so hot right now.  Make yourself cum for me.” Ashton kissed her neck making a moan escape her lips. “If you're not quiet I'll stop.”

Cher bit her lip and closed her eyes losing herself in the feeling.

Ashton pinched her thigh. “Eyes on me doll. I want you to look at me.”

Her brown eyes met his hazel ones filled with lust and amusement.

Ashton gripped her harder increasing the speed of her movements. He could tell she was getting close.

“That's it, let go baby. I wanna see you cum for me.” Ashton growled.

Cher felt herself tipping over the edge. Ashton watched her face as she climaxed trying not to cum himself.

He held her while she rode it out and then as she

came back to earth.

“Damn Ashton” Cher sighed when she could speak again.

“I told you kitten. It's daddy not Ashton, or next time I won't let you finish”

@biba3434 @vfdsstuff @babygirlcashton @toofadedtofight @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @slimthicccal

[lozenger8]

sciles + 20, please?

(things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear)

Scott’s sitting on the bathroom floor when he receives the texts from his main handler that he’s going to be given a live-in bodyguard. He reads the second message several times. 

Expect at 8. Codeword: Alpha. 

He shouldn’t have told them he thought he’d been followed at the grocery store. But, well, he thought he’d been followed. 

This space he’s carved out for himself over the past week, that he’s resigned himself to, is going to get invaded. Scott’s need for companionship wars with his need to protect himself.

At 8, there’s the sound of the front door opening, key sliding effortlessly in the locks. Scott’s in the kitchen, brandishing two knives. It’s not paranoia if there have already been four attempts on your life. 

The guy - Scott really hopes he’s the new bodyguard - is lanky and, surprisingly, only about Scott’s age, maybe even younger. He has brown eyes and short brown hair and he nods when he assesses Scott and the stance he’s holding.

“Good call, Alpha,” he says. “This job is going to be so much smoother if we’re both watching your back.  I’m Stiles, by the way.”

Scott raises an eyebrow. “Stiles.” He doesn’t say ‘nice to meet you’, like he would have, way back when. He does put the knives back where they belong. “You want something to drink?”

“Coffee please,” Stiles replies, gait becoming more relaxed. “I requisitioned us a Keurig especially. You’re welcome.”

“You knew you’d be sent here?”

“It was always a possibility, yeah. Which reminds me – Scott Delgado, will you marry me?”

Scott splutters, rounds on ‘Stiles’, unable to concentrate on working the machine, “What?”

“It’s our cover. We’re engaged. You came here first to get the house in order. I was on a business trip. But now here we are, together again, sickeningly in love,” Stiles says as he takes over and makes a coffee, slides it over to Scott. He starts the process for his own.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t pretend to love somebody at the snap of your fingers.”

Stiles smirks at him, takes a sip from his own coffee - black, no sugar. “Then I’ll make you love me.”

*

Scott is initially resistant to the idea of ever viewing Stiles as a friendly acquaintance, let alone someone he could actively like and pretend to love, but Stiles has a way of getting under his skin.

Stiles makes breakfast every morning, and every morning his breakfasts are incredible. Fluffy pancakes, apple cinnamon oatmeal, pumpkin spice baked oatmeal, breakfast burritos, huevos rancheros – all freshly cooked and delicious. By the tenth day, Scott’s munching on maple turkey bacon and practically moaning with how good it is.

“Okay, I have to ask, how did you get so good at this?”

“What?”

Scott gestures at the maple turkey bacon, sweet potato hashbrowns and greek yoghurt creamed spinach. “You know what.”

“My dad’s a sheriff of a small town. He’d often do double shifts and I knew he wouldn’t eat well while on the job. I discovered six months in that he’d been ditching my packed lunches. So I’d make sure he’d get as nutritious a meal as possible in the morning, the kind of veggie-packed feast that’d keep him going for hours.”

“Smart. I’m impressed.”

Stiles shrugs. He’s either very good at acting like he loves Scott’s praise, or he lives for those moments when Scott capitulates and openly admires him.

“So you were always destined to be in law enforcement?” Scott asks.

“Maybe, but there was definitely a time when everyone else would’ve said hell no. I was the kid who always got in trouble and stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. I almost got arrested five times before I graduated high school. But I guess it was my curiosity kicking in, my need to investigate.”

“My dad’s an FBI agent,” Scott says, then rolls his eyes at himself, because of course Stiles knows this, Stiles knows almost everything there is to know about him because he read it in a file.

But, “Tell me more,” Stiles says, eyes focused and soft, in that way they can be sometimes when looking at Scott, so Scott does, tells him all about it, feels lighter with each word.

*

Their neighbors somehow buy the nearly wed thing, possibly because Stiles is handsy when they’re in public and Scott’s been so touch-starved he enjoys it.  

Scott really likes being under Stiles’ arm as they go grocery shopping, even if he can feel Stiles’ gun holster. He likes when Stiles nudges into his side to ask his opinion on cheese or the freshness of a mango, or whether they should get a particular spice mix. Because Stiles has been making breakfasts, Scott’s been making dinner, and they’re currently in a competition where everyone’s a winner.

Scott likes taking Stiles’ hand in his when they mow the lawn and weed the garden, possibly because Stiles spends half the time complaining about having to do these things. Has pressed a kiss to Stiles’ cheek when they’ve delivered misdirected mail; as a cover for whispering in his ear, but he still thinks about the blush that settled in the hollows of Stiles’ cheeks and the way his lips parted every time he looked at him the rest of that day. 

Some days they stay home and watch movies and shows. Stiles has been making Scott watch Star Wars, and Scott has been pretending to be grudging about it because it’s hilarious seeing Stiles’ indignant faces. Secretly, he’s wondering how he can persuade Stiles to watch the next one without Stiles realizing that’s what he’s doing. It’s not as hard as he thinks, because Stiles seems to think he’s some kind of Girl Scout - “I’d never call you a Boy Scout because their homophobic asses can get screwed.” Scott’s been making Stiles watch different low-stakes warm-hearted competition shows like The Great British Baking Show and Making It, but Stiles doesn’t even try to complain, is clearly highly entertained. 

But sometimes, they go out and explore the city, because the weather’s nice and while their cover is that they work from home, no one can work every day. 

“What do you think you’ll do, when you get to go back?” Stiles asks him when they’re alone at the top of a steep hill they’ve hiked to, and gazing at the city below them, buildings looking like miniatures used on a film set.

He’s talking about Scott’s real life, the one he’ll hopefully get to return to when the trial is over and Gerard Argent, ruthless crime boss, is put behind bars for life.

“Live with my mom for a while, continue my veterinary degree, tell my friends how much I love them so often they beg me to stop. How about you?”

“I don’t usually get a say in my assignments. This is an anomaly.”

“Wait, you asked for this?”

Stiles gazes off in the distance. “I think you’re really brave, and noble, and kind, and they were contemplating placing Jackson Whittemore with you. Now, I know you only have my word for this, but he’s a whole-ass dick. So, yeah, I asked if they’d place me instead.”

“So I’d only be stuck with a half-ass dick. That’s so sweet of you,” Scott says, knocking into Stiles to lessen the cruelty of his words. Stiles laughs, knocks him back, and they hike until they find a picnic spot so they can eat. 

*

By the time they’ve been together for a month and a half and the trial is only a week away, Scott realizes he considers Stiles his best friend – not only because of proximity – but because he’s shared things with Stiles that he hasn’t shared with anyone else. Stiles is also surprisingly forthcoming in details about his life, which kind of confuses Scott, but Stiles shrugs it off. Scott hasn’t really had a chance to miss Stiles yet, but he can tell he will. 

Scott also realizes he spends too many hours every night imagining what it would be like if he and Stiles shared a bed. He extrapolates from the sounds Stiles makes when he’s eating something delicious (they’re positively pornographic), the look on his face when he’s happy (usually because he’s convinced Scott of something), and how Stiles’ body would feel against his (solid and warm and strong, because although he’s lanky he’s muscular too.)  Scott ensures has long showers when Stiles is out on one of his rare Scott-less chores, brings himself some relief as he pictures Stiles beneath or above him. 

Even though several nerves in his body are screaming at him to be awkward around Stiles after this realization, the rest of him refuses. He’s grateful every time Stiles touches him, lives for those moments when Stiles sweeps him with a once-over, and when they need to show some PDA, he’s ecstatic. 

Scott’s handler comes to visit them two days before the trial is set, to go over the case details with Scott again – which is apparently something Stiles was supposed to do and simply neglected. 

Lydia is friendly, but ultra-professional, and Scott can tell there’s something between Stiles and her that Stiles hasn’t told him about. There’s an easiness there, a knowledge, that goes beyond colleagues. It hurts, in a deep dark part of Scott, because although he’s heard about Stiles’ life – different cases and the people he hangs out with and things he’s thinking about doing when he has time – there’s obviously a lot he’s ignorant of. Like girlfriends. 

Lydia gets a call after an hour of debrief, comes out of the other room looking wide-eyed and even paler than before.

“I’m going to be staying here the next two days.”

“What? Why?” Stiles asks, eyes narrowed.

“Our other witness has been compromised. He was shot in the leg,” Lydia says, matter-of-factly. “We can’t take any chances.”

“I’ve protected Scott with no issues this entire time. Why do we suddenly need another agent on the job?” Stiles asks, indignation no longer amusing when it’s about a serious situation.

“Because we don’t want Scott to get hurt, or worse, killed, do we Stiles?”

“I would never let anything injure Scott, ever. He’s under my care and my protection.”

Scott doesn’t get the spikiness at all, because the way they talk shows they care deeply for each other. But maybe it’s a protective instinct thing. Scott’s not going to ask, even though he’s fairly confident Stiles would answer.

“Do you like meatloaf?” Scott asks Lydia, to diffuse the tension, to remind them he’s still there.

Lydia looks apologetic. “I’m vegetarian.”

“Scott makes the best tomato and chickpea loaf in the world,” Stiles says. At her questioning look he adds, “We’ve been doing meatless Mondays.”

That evening, Stiles and Lydia go out on the back porch to catch up and Scott begins to pack his meager belongings. Scott keeps his window open to air out his room. He didn’t know he’d be able to hear them, but he does, and even though part of him considers moving into another room, his curiosity gets the better of him. 

He listens as Lydia tells Stiles about different cases she’s worked on the side and Stiles tells her about two suspicious stalkers they’ve had that he’d never told Scott about. Stiles then tells her about the different excursions they went on and movies they watched, and Scott smiles as he remembers the instances Stiles is recounting.

“You’ve really fallen for him, haven’t you?” Lydia says, teasing. 

“Oh God, Lydia, you have no idea.”

“I do. I remember what it’s like when you’re infatuated, first hand.”

“Okay, so you have all the ideas.”

“Will you tell him, when it’s all over?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I should. Scott deserves someone whose life isn’t their job.”

“Your life doesn’t have to be your job, Stiles. That’s how you’ve chosen to be.”

“Yeah, well, maybe. This is assuming he’d be remotely interested.”

Scott sits on his bed as he listens to Lydia chuckle. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. But if it is, I’ll be there for you.”

Scott sucks in several deep breaths, tries to steady his heart.

*

The trial goes for eight days and Scott’s needed for two of them. Seeing Gerard Argent again, even across a crowded courtroom, makes Scott’s blood freeze in his veins. He gives his witness statement and answers cross-examination. It goes well, for a given value of ‘well’. He only trips over his words and stammers twice, at any rate. He’s not the only eye-witness, as despite a gunshot wound in the leg, Danny testifies too. 

In the evening he, Stiles and Lydia find different routes to the safehouse and Scott tries not to mentally replay watching Argent kill three people. 

Stiles cuddles up to Scott on the couch as they watch animated movies to keep Scott’s mind off the whole thing. Scott is more than happy to lean into Stiles’ body and absorb his warmth.

Each day they wait for the other evidence to be relayed, for the jury to deliberate, for the possibility of more murder attempts. If there is another attempt, Stiles and Lydia thwart it together and don’t tell Scott, which Scott might’ve hated once upon a time, but he’s now supremely thankful for it.

The morning after a guilty verdict is rendered and Scott hears Argent is once again behind bars is one of the best mornings of Scott’s life. Lydia congratulates him, then catches a ride back to HQ because “There’s so much paperwork, and Stiles cannot be trusted to do his fair share.” She gives Scott a small smile as he helps her put the suitcase full of clothes she bought in the trunk of the Uber, tells him to take care. 

Even though they’ve packed nearly everything up, Stiles makes Scott waffles with blueberries, syrup and cream. 

“So you were right,” Scott says, his heart drumming a persistent rhythm in his throat. 

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

“No. About what you said in the beginning. When we first met,” Scott says. Stiles frowns at him, opens his mouth to interject again, but Scott gets there first. “You made me love you.”

Stiles gives him that steady, gentle look Scott’s only ever seen him use with him. “You’re saying this now, but it’s entirely possible it’s the sister-city-of-Stockholm syndrome.”

Scott exhales, long and slow. “Then we should test it out. We should date. Get to know each other outside of witness protection. Be together because we want to be. If you want.”

Stiles rests his chin on his hand, gazes at Scott like he hung the moon. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

[writevswrong]

Eris Fanfic * When The Last Ember Falls * Chapter Twenty-Four

**In case you’re wondering how I picture Eris. Here he is (Alex MacKenzie, he’s a Canadian model and absolutely beautiful). :) And if you’re wondering why I keep choosing gifs of Rollo from Vikings (not a redhead)...he just captures a lot of the angst. haha. Anyways...Enjoy! 

 When The Last Ember Falls by L.J. LaFleur

Eris:

“Anything?” I asked, focusing on the maps strewn across my desk. After a moment of silence, I glanced up to my guardian.

Cindra shook her head, unable to report that they’ve captured Bronwynn yet again.

I knew she was just as frustrated as me. It had been weeks since Nesta left, even longer since we saw Bronwynn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he returned to Hybern. I also wouldn’t be surprised if he was just waiting for the right time strike. It was better to expect every possibility than only one.

I returned to the layer of maps, taking notes of the different territories within this court that have already been searched. I even gave warnings to the surrounding courts of Bronwynn’s deception. He would try and charm them, form an alliance if he wanted a shot at this throne. It’s what I would do.

Accidentally, I knocked over a stack of half written letters. I leaned over, picking up the parchments addressed to Nesta. I couldn’t bring myself to finish or send any.

“How are you?” Cindra asked, eyeing one of the letters in my hand. She scooted a plate of spiced apples towards me.

I shuffled the papers, glowering at the plate of food, “what’s this?”

“Believe it or not, those are apples,” she sarcastically replied. “You haven’t eaten in a while,” she stated with a heavy sigh, chastising me just as badly as my mother. No wonder they were getting along so well these days.  

Using the same excuse as always, I pushed the plate back to her, “I’ve just been busy. That’s all, Cindra.” In truth, I haven’t felt like eating.

Cindra snorted, shaking her head in exasperation, “I don’t believe you.”

I let out a frustrated exhale; I was trying to do better with my emotions. Peeking up at her, she gave me a knowing look. Yes, this was about Nesta.

Biting down on the inside of my lip, I debated what to say. How to say it. Feelings could be so tedious, no wonder my father and brothers never bothered with them.

Cindra leaned against the wall, checking that her nails were sharpened accordingly. “If I have to wait all day, I will. I’ll even have Mikayl stop by. Maybe force him to strong hold you into speaking.”

“Mikayl would not go against orders, he wouldn’t risk the death sentence,” I laughed half-heartedly. He would, for her. I knew of his feelings, of her feelings—they would both defy whatever orders necessary to save one another. It was a good thing I didn’t need much protecting.  

“I don’t know,” she sung, a smirk in place, “I think I’m worth dying for.”

“I’m sure he agrees,” I acknowledged, examining the pile of letters and maps. No matter how busy I had become, I never stopped thinking of her. I never stopped wondering what would have happened if she stayed. “I did find—”

Cindra didn’t let me switch subjects. She walked over, nudging the plate closer. The cool porcelain touched my elbow. I could just imagine her trying to force me to eat. Her hands holding my jaw open as Mikayl shoves a spoonful of gods know what into my mouth.  

Getting the hint, I took a bite of the largest slice. Crunching down on the juicy fruit, enjoying the rich cinnamon on top. Fine, she wins. It was delicious.

She waited and waited until I ate the entire plate of apple slices. I have never felt more like a child. Wait, I have. When she, Mikayl and my mother at one point all had to dress me due to my injury. Cindra looked satisfied at the empty plate but now she wanted me to talk—to express my feelings.

Inhaling deeply, I opened my mouth to let the words pour out, “I miss her. And everyday it should be getting easier but it’s not. I miss her wit, her presence—”

“—that body, am I right?” Cindra interrupted, her brows wiggling up and down.

“Cindra,” I scolded, not disagreeing with her.

“Sorry...”

I thought it would be easier with time. That I would be able to move past whatever happened. To let go. “As ridiculous as it sounds, most days I wish to be stabbed again so she’ll come back.”

Cindra pointed to the stack of unfinished letters, “I’m sure if you just sent her one of those, she would.”

I shook my head, it was best I not interfered with her and the bastard commander. “I…I wish she could be here for the ceremony tonight. I’m supposed to invite close friends and I don’t believe I have any besides you and her.”

“The High Lord of Spring?” she questioned, noticing my uneasy expression and quickly moving on. “You have Mikayl. Oh! The kids from the village. They would love to see you be officially crowned as their High Lord.” She smiled brightly as her ideas unfolded, “there’s still enough time. Let’s winnow to the Night Court and get our girl back!”

I fell back in my chair, losing what straight posture I had, “I appreciate your enthusiasm but it’s not that simple, Cindra. We can’t barge into another court like that.”

If we did, then it would look just as bad as Rhysand interrupting Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding. Despite his honorable intentions, there are still laws in Prythian. Not that I mind breaking laws for good reason but going against the strongest High Lord in Prythian’s history is a death wish.

“Then maybe tell her you’re in love with her,” Cindra shot back, her hands pressing into the desk as she glared at me.

“I think it might be too late for that.”

She bit her tongue, forcing herself to keep quiet. “Well, High Lord, I suggest you clean yourself up then. Tonight, you’ll wear the official crown. You’ll bear an even heavier weight on your shoulders as if you didn’t have enough. No big deal or anything.” Cindra turned on her heel, yelling over her shoulder, “send her an invitation, at least.”

“It’s last minute,” I argued, dipping my quill in red ink so I can tally up the known supporters of Bronwynn.

Cindra playfully snapped back, “so was getting stabbed.” She flipped her braid over her shoulder, emphasizing her point.

“I’d rather be stabbed than endure any more of this conversation.”

“It’s because I’m right!” she shouted as she shut the door behind her.  

She was. She was absolutely right.

 Cindra:

So, things escalated pretty quickly I’d say. Just before my lord was to swear his oath and recite the family mantra, guess who barged in through the copper doors? White cloak and all?

“Bronwynn, what are you doing here?” The Lady of Autumn stood up, her hand on my lord’s shoulder, a sign for him not to speak.

I think she believed that their exchange would only make matters worse. I wouldn’t doubt it.  

The traitor walked down the aisle of crimson, his hands raising towards the gossiping crowd, “did you think I wouldn’t fight for the crown, mother?”

The High Lord stood up, his height even more intimidating on the throne. “Are you challenging me?” he inquired, straight faced and even-tempered.

Bronwynn laughed, his silver speckled teeth shinning beneath the faelights as he ascended the dais. “To the death, brother,” he answered with a gravelly voice.

I leaned into the Lady of Autumn’s arm, “is this possible?” I mumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time this happened. Maybe it was before my lifetime?  

Without looking to me, she nodded as confirmation.  

My lord wasn’t fazed by Bronwynn’s scare tactics. Instead he lifted his chin, his voice colder than the Winter Court, “so be it…”  

 Hundreds of people were stuffed inside the throne room, all awaiting to see which Vanserra would live and who would fall. The crowd grew louder, a deafening noise as bets were placed and alliances were being formed.  

The High Lord and I winnowed to his room, each competitor given thirty minutes to make any final arrangements that were needed. I paced by his desk, unable to believe this was actually happening, “are you sure he can do this?”

“Yes,” the High Lord replied, wrapping his knuckles with white cloth. His auburn hair looked just like his flames, untamed. Amber eyes focusing on the stack of letters he never sent.  

“What of your injuries?” I asked; how could I protect him in this fight? How could he fight if he were still healing? He must be, he had to be.

He glanced up, smirking at my frightened expression, “which ones?”

“Exactly! Which ones??” I snapped, my armor clanking as I helped him tie the cloth around his wrist. The knot was tight, probably too tight. I didn’t mean to make it that way but when you’re mad, you’re mad.  

The High Lord started on his other hand, his focus now on the stars, “my leg is better. My chest, well it can’t be ripped open again. That wound has finally healed over.”

“And your heart?”

“It’s beating.”

“He will try and get into your head. You can’t let him,” I cautioned and lectured and cautioned again. I didn’t want to watch him die. I would lose much more than a High Lord, I would lose one of my closest friends.

He stopped winding the cloth, his eyes meeting mine, “I know, Cindra. You have nothing to worry about. You will not have to be his guardian if he wins.”

My eyes bulged, my stomach sank. I sure as fuck am not going to be Bronwynn’s guardian. I would slit his throat. “I don’t want to be…”

“Good,” he smiled, lifting his hand for me to secure the other wrap, “because he’ll probably kill us both.”

“Oh, wonderful,” I responded with little sarcasm, focusing on the second knot. Our laughter was not there, no humor was allowed in this moment. I wouldn’t let it. I couldn’t. There were bigger things at risk here.

The High Lord clenched his knuckles, checking the tightness. He focused his gaze back on the stars, “if I die…”

“—I won’t hear it,” I stopped him. I won’t listen to his stupid speech of what should happen if he failed tonight. Died tonight.  

He raised a brow, his voice dropping, “you will. As your High Lord, I am commanding you.”

I crossed my arms, swiftly releasing them since I probably looked like a damn child. I couldn’t help it in the moment. I never gave Mikayl a speech before my last fight. But then again, I didn’t think I was gonna die.

Did he think he was going to die??

“Take my mother, head to the Night Court,” he said, untying his boots and pulling off his socks.

“Why there? Wouldn’t she be safe here? That’s his mother.”

“Bronwynn was much closer to my father. Respecting women, even his own mother, will not happen if he becomes High Lord.” He stuffed the socks into the leather straps, putting the boots to the side, “despite Rhysand being a prick at times, he is one of the only faes that I trust.”

“And Nesta is there,” I added, knowing that she would be soul-crushed if he died. She would storm the castle, rip Bronwynn to ribbons, and burn him to ash. I would help her.  

“Yes…” his thoughts trailing off. Amber eyes flared as he regarded me, “she will protect you two.”

“What about her? What am I supposed to tell her if…?”

He remained quiet, sadness touching his eyes. A sadness I had never seen before. No, that was a memory—like he already knew what life would be like on the other side without her.

“Now that you’ve given me your death instructions, here’s my advice…” I stated, clutching my hand around the hilt of my blade. A common habit for when I needed strength, “don’t fucking die.”

“I’ll try my best,” he nodded, the corner of his lips struggling to form a smile.