#Dylan O'brien fic

[obriengf]

yeah this got 18+ real quick - smut warning!

imagine MITCH RAPP during a time when he is allowed peace; a life away from correcting the world of its crimes, waking up in the same bed every day with the absence of worry, contentment riddled so deep in his bones that he can draw a deep breath and finally feel tranquillity. he can sit in his designated armchair each morning, drinking his stupid imported coffee from the ugly mug you got him last christmas. he can sit at the dining table, across from you, sharing a meal and discussing your days, every day. he can lead a life with a promised future, and not one where he was unsure whether he'd make it out alive. just imagine it.

now, imagine him feeling so settled and fulfilled in his life, that he kneels down on one knee. he knows that there is that promised future, and those lazy sunday mornings, and more christmases with more ugly mugs. he knows that you'll crawl on his lap as he sat in that armchair, snuggled up watching movies into the darkness of the night. he knows that you will make him meals, and he would make you some too, before you share them across the table for the rest of your lives. mitch on his knee, a ring held so carefully between his fingers as they slightly shook. he had hope filling his beautiful brown eyes - a golden tone to match the colour of the band. he had felt loss so strongly in his past that it provoked him to be an empty shell. until he met you, until he learnt to love you unconditionally. and you love him too, despite his demons.

"it would be the greatest honour to have you by my side for the rest of our lives. i love you so fucking much. marry me."

to which you would reply with a teary, "of course."

imagine that months had passed. and that the love only grew stronger. imagine standing at the end of the alter with him, as he insisted that he held your hands throughout the entire ceremony, even through his vowels, which he had been memorising for months. his eyes unable to leave yours for a mere second as he stood mesmerised by your beauty on this special day. mitch would feel so lucky that he could call you his forever. flash forward to your first dance, and you both have two left feet. it was a mess, so you stuck to rocking side-to-side, giggling like school kids, impressed when he managed to twirl and dip you without fail. you both decided to feed each other your first slice of wedding cake, but you got his nose instead. on purpose. he knew that it was coming, call it assassin instincts. but he could only laugh before smashing his lips against yours, frosting decorating your cheeks in utter joviality.

now imagine a few hours later, and mitch had you pressing hands and knees into the mattress of your hotel room. your stature was wobbly, his fault, of course, after he priorly had his head between your thighs for what felt like forever. and he ate you out so fucking good, too. his blunted nails leaving crescent marks embedded in the flesh of your thighs, your hips, your stomach. the tip of his nose was dragging over your clit with such force as he tried to bury his tongue so deep inside your cunt. relishing in how you'd constrict around the muscle. and the moans that'd draw from your lips was a fucking symphony if he'd ever heard one. his lips sucked and swallowed as you writhed and panted. you were so close that you could reach out to the stars and touch them as they dizzied your view. but he stopped abruptly. teasing you. and mitch couldn't hold back the smirk that had tugged at his sopping glistening lips as you protested.

he was aiming for an orgasm that would take you to the edge and over. mitch was grasping your hips, pulling you back to him when you started to buckle and lose your strength. skin on skin slapping, reverberating off the four walls. your ass was red from his large hands as they fondled and slapped, only to be soothed by gentle rubs from calloused fingers. you were painted on different marks as your body filled with sensation, as mitch admired them proudly as his eyes lazily dragged down from your purple splotchy neck. your head dropped to the side as your cheek grazed the bedsheet, his name slipping past your lips like a prayer, begging for him. you were close, again.

mitch had a soft side, as you learnt quickly after meeting him. he was generous and sweet. incredibly kind-hearted when he wanted to be. which is why he treated you with such fragility as he slowed his thrusts, the plummeting now nothing but an idle wait. as much as it hurt his throbbing cock, he pulled out from you and wrapped his arms under your frame, gentle as he turned you over. with your back now pressed to the bed, mitch kissed over your eyes as they remained closed, still floating in your upcoming orgasm. waiting.

"let me see you, baby. open 'em for me." his voice was soothing but you still whined, lost in euphoria. mitch chuckled, his breath heavy before his lips kissed over your own, "i want to see your face when you cum for the first time as mrs rapp..."

tears brimmed your waterline but you had never smiled so wide as when you saw the love that exuded from this man, before he was lining himself up again. the tip of his cock tapped against your clit as you cried, pushing yourself up to indicate that you needed him. as your walls incased him completely, mitch's body lowered, his chest sweaty as it stuck against yours, one hand tangled in your own as the other braced itself, white-knuckled, beside your head. his hips drove deep into your core. tapping your inner walls, and you continued to cry out his name as he attempted to soothe you with sloppy bruising kisses on your collarbone, and up toward your ear. you were so tight. it felt dangerous, daring, the way you were squeezing and milking this man for everything he had. and yet he was so utterly addicted to you.

the moment before the release was always one that he cherished. the adrenaline rush was one unmatched, how you both reeked with desperation, how sighs and pants and moans grew louder and louder. the way you would beg one another for more, the 'pleases' and 'thank yous' mixed among the cussing and chanting of 'fuck fuck fuck' over and over again until the explosion. he loved these moments. but when you came? the second you arched so high off the bed that he used all his force to hold you down? when he came himself the second you pulled at his hair in absolute pleasure?

that was his crowning glory moment.

that's when mitch rapp knew that he finally found peace.

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

An Office Affair

Pairing - Dylan O’brien x fem!reader

Summary - Dylan started with the company 3 years ago and you both just click.

Warning- semi public sexual intercourse, fingering, choking, hair pulling, language. [18+]

-

You're unsure how you ended up in this predicament. You think back to how the last 3 years had played out, you and Dylan had been flirty from the get go.

He was a new hire and you organised his desk before he started, that was one of your many tasks. You always left the new starters a little good luck note and a small chocolate bar, just something to welcome and edge them on.

Dylan had been one of the few who really appreciated the small gesture, he asked around and found out that it was you who left the note. So he responded by leaving you a note a few weeks later, suddenly it had become a game of leaving each other notes until finally you both bumped into each other on level 3.

You didn’t work on the same floor as you were always out and about with the big boss, bringing him coffees and writing minutes in meetings. So when you were actually in the office you sat on level 7, you had gone down to level 3 to fix up another new starters desk that happened to be next to Dylan’s.

You both just clicked and the flirting begun, it started on the notes and then it moved to small touches when you were in the same room, Dylan dropping you coffee on level 7 and you ‘needing’ to stock up your stationary box each week just to see him.

And now here you are, 3 years later. Skirt bunched up around your hips, panties pulled to the side and heels digging into the very expensive printer.

Dylan’s fingers deep inside your soaked cunt, your head dropped back as he licks and sucks at the skin of your neck. “Jesus Dylan” you moaned, his thumb played with your oversensitive clit.

You clenched around him, sucking his fingers in deeper. He was toying with your sweet spot, pushing you closer to your release. “Oh… faster please” you begged, your fingernails leaving half crescent moons on his shoulder blades.

His scruffy beard scratching at your collar bone, his hot breath fanning over your skin. “Fuck… I love the sounds you make” Dylan professed, his fingers picking up speed within your pussy.

Your juices running down his fingers, the sound of your wet cunt filled the stationary room. The small light left on illuminated your bodies, shadows bouncing off the four walls. “I’m so close!” You cried, grinding your hips into his hand.

He had three fingers buried deep inside, knuckles disappearing within you. Tears trickled down your cheeks as your high finally reached you, your walls pulsating around his digits.

Your soft cries muffled by his shoulder as you gripped onto him for dear life, your legs shaking against the printer. He didn’t let up his movements until you began to push him fingers away, your pussy physically crying at his touch.

He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked, your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head in delight. “Fuck… your so hot” you state, pulling him to you by the back of his head.

His lips pressed to yours harshly, your fingers fiddling with his Armani belt. You finally got him free, staring down at his cock that stood proud. The head redden and leaking pre cum, screaming to be touched.

Your hand reaches out to grip him, giving him a soft tug. He emits a choked groan, palms making contact with the printer to keep himself steady. “Sweet girl… I’m going to need to fuck you now or I’ll come in your hand” he admits.

You nod your head profusely and bring him to your folds, dragging him up and down, collecting the juices with his tip. He nudged himself against your swollen clit, a shiver running through your spine.

“Come on pretty girl”

He grips your hips and pushes inside of you without warning, a husky groan leaves his lips. You feel physically full, your walls fluttering around his girthy cock. “I’m going to move us” he states, pulling out of you momentarily.

He pulls you from the printer and spins you around, pushing your upper back down. Angling your face against the printer and bringing your ass up higher, pushing himself back into you.

“Oh sweet Jesus” you exclaim, his hips meet the swell of your ass cheeks with each thrust. You can feel his heavy balls against your clit, your fingers curling around the printer for support.

“You feel so good… I’ve wanted to fuck you in this room the moment I laid eyes on you” he admits, you let out a grunt of agreement. Pushing your hips back to meet him roughly.

“Dylan… harder!” You order, you need him to give it his all. Your pussy needed to be abused by him, it weeped for him. Arousal soaking his thick cock, his movements quickened. Hands gripping onto your hips for support once more. “Faster!”.

Your breathless moans are muffled by your biceps, burying your head against your skin. His fingers interlock with the loose ponytail and yank your upright, your back meeting his chest. “Don’t hide those sweet sounds”.

You cry out in pleasure, his hand sliding from your hair to your throat. He gives it a slight squeeze, the breath getting caught for a moment. “Fuck” you breath when he lets go, that breathless daze you get when your running out of breath washes over you. “Do it again”.

He gives you another squeeze and you claw at his arm, pressing your hips into him again. He pulls out of you again and drags you towards the desk, dropping you onto the wooden table and lining himself up with you again. “We’ve got 5 minutes before the cleaners clock on” Dylan states, eyes darting to the clock beside them.

You nod your head, his movements quicken. The desk hitting the wall in the process, the noise echoing within the stationary room. You grip onto his shoulders, biting down on your lower lip as he fucks you with such force you feel like you might both go through the wall.

“Oh god.. Dylan! Fuck!” You cry, you clit rubs against the skin of his lower stomach. The familiar tingle begins to spread through your body, your pussy pulsating around his cock.

“Dyl… I’m going to cum” you warn, squeezing your eyes shut and biting down onto his shoulder. He grabs your waist and angles himself deeper, your cries are muffled by his shirt.

You can no longer hold on, letting the wave of pleasure hit you at full force. Physically shaking around him, toes curling and walls fluttering. You're soaking his cock, pure arousal dripping from every inch of you.

He’s right behind you, cock buried deep and spurting cum into you. You can feel him shudder and jerk against you, his moans and groans of pleasure filling the room. You press your lips to his as he cums, hands holding his face against yours.

“It took us 3 years to do that” you breath, he begins to pull out of you slowly. He chuckles and takes a seat next to you. “Let’s not leave it another 3 years to repeat it” he jokes, giving you another peck on the lips.

The lights on level 3 turn back on, indicating the cleaners have clocked on. The two of you rush to clean yourself up and get changed, sneaking out of the building going unnoticed.

🏷️ @novxturient

[fivelakesinwriting]

Fresh Air (Dylan O'Brien)

Author's Notes: Thank you all for the love, support and patience you've shown me while I've been on a hiatus. You voted for Dylan to be my first story back, and I hope this does not disappoint.

Warnings: Drinking, swearing, references to drug use, sexual references - sexual innuendos (*established relationship - unprotected sex, semi public sex, pet names, fingers, lots of kisses!)

Requested? Nope. Requests are closed

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. And you do not have permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you xoxo

The colour she had painted her lips was beyond distracting. It was the same colour she had worn the very first night they ever kissed, and it wasn't lost on him. He was way more observant than she gave him credit for. Soft, glossy, pink and with  a few sparkles. It drove him wild making him think about her lips all over his, messy and frantic as they kissed in the front seat of his Audi.

Dylan licked his lips subconsciously to satisfy his need to kiss her. The alcohol flooded his head and swam in his veins as he flicked his cigarette into the street then walked over to her.

"Young lady, you have two options. Another drink and a dance or I take you home." Dylan muttered with a little nip to her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Why would I want to go home?" She questioned with a furrowed brow as she turned in his arms to face him.

"Sweetie." Dylan growled with a curl of his upper lip as he slid his hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

She raised her eyebrows as she realized what he meant, his hands squeezing her backside and pulling her close. She tossed an arm around his neck and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling him shiver.

"I'll let you take me home, Dylan." She whispered as she pressed her forehead to his, rubbing their noses together.

"Your lips look so pretty tonight, sweetie." Dylan muttered as he reached a hand up to thumb at her bottom lip gently, doing his best to not smudge her paint.

"Thank you." She smiled as she pressed her lips to the pad of his thumb.

They got home, but didn't make it inside. Dylan was sober enough to drive, but not enough to control his urge to kiss her like a teenager left to his own devices. He parked the car and grabbed her hips, tugging her over the console and into his lap.

"Baby!" She laughed as he bit her chin and along her neck, his hands filled with her backside as he pulled her close.

"You're so fucking pretty." Dylan muttered into the crease of her neck before he sunk his teeth into her skin, making her gasp. He pushed his hands up the back of her shirt, desperate to feel her skin beneath his palms.

"What did you drink tonight, baby?" She hummed as she pushed her hands into his hair while she rolled her hips on top of his, letting him nibble on her neck and collarbone.

"Just like, two beers. Did smoke a bit, though. Shared a blunt with the guys." Dylan grumbled as he licked her skin where he had bit her while his thumbs flicked her bra clasp.

"Blunts make you a big baby." She smiled, letting him unhook her bra beneath her shirt and fill his hands with her breasts.

"Didn't always. Now I smoke them and it makes me think of you, and us. Getting high together and touching, having sex. You're so cute and soft.  Just fucking love you." Dylan muttered as he thumbed her nipples.

"Liar. First time we smoked together you were all over me. Touching, snuggling and kissing. And we hadn't even gone out on an official date yet. You were nothing but hands, O'Brien." She teased with a tug of his hair.

"You make me feel needy. Can't help it." Dylan breathed out as he removed his teeth from her neck and rested his head back on the seat rest.

"It's not a bad thing. It's just funny how you were so respectful to me when I came over that night, and then the minute we lit up you had your hands on some part of my body. I liked it." She smiled breathlessly as he ran his fingertips through the waistband of her jeans toward the button.

"Yeah? What else did you like about that night?" He hummed as he aimlessly toyed with the button of her jeans, never opening them.

"The way you looked at me, how you said my name then started calling me sweetie. When you played with my hair, and wrapped us in that blanket. Then when you kissed me." She breathed out, squirming around on top of him from the tension between them. But she was confined between him, and the steering wheel, Dylan had all the control just how he liked it.

"I remember all of that, too. It was nice. You pulled my hair and called me baby when we were kissing. I was done for, and I think that's when it probably started. The whole, blunts make Dylan a big baby thing. Makes me think of that." Dylan smirked as he flicked open the button of her jeans and pulled down the zipper.

"Should we go in the house, baby?" She whispered as she pressed her fingertips to his neck, lips brushing over his while he reached a hand inside her jeans.

"Nope."

Dylan watched her eyes flutter shut as he pulled her panties to the side and brushed his fingertips through her folds. He hummed softly as he felt her drip, circling her clit and watching her chew on her bottom lip.

"In..oh...in the Audi?" She panted as he rolled her clit with his thumb and pressed at her entrance gently with the tip of his middle finger.

"Only if you want to." Dylan mumbled with a kiss to her chin as he eased his finger inside of her.

"Big needy baby." She breathed out with a pull of his hair, dropping her forehead to his.

"For you." Dylan smirked with a little twist of his finger inside of her, making her whimper and pout her lips against his.

Dylan has vowed to himself, and silently to her that he would be respectful. Not get too hands on despite how much he liked her and would have enjoyed seeing what was beneath her clothes. Slow, and respectful. He could do that.

"Stop. Stop. This is painful to watch." Dylan laughed as he watched the object of his affection attempt to roll their blunt for the evening. She said she could never do it, so he told her to try. And try she did.

"My fingers don't work this way!" She giggled as she held the paper haphazardly rolled with weed.

"Give this to me. I'll help you, sweetie." He grinned as he gently took the paper from her and easily rolled it between the tips of his fingers. He felt her watching him as he licked the paper, sealing the edges and twisting the top. He handed it back to her with a smile - all done.

"You're good at that." She whispered, face warm from watching his fingers and the new nickname he had given her. He only ever called her by her first name, respectfully so.

"Had a bit of practice." Dylan laughed softly with a nervous rub to the back of his neck.

The smoke filled the back patio beneath the large tree, the two of them inching closer and closer as the blunt ashed down. By the time it was done, she was curled into his side underneath his arm as they chatted happily.

"Cold?" Dylan muttered as he traced his fingertips over her arm, shivers beneath him as he went.

"A little." She nodded as she shifted closer to him.

Dylan reached behind them and grabbed a blanket pulling it over their legs and chest. He thumbed at her chin, smiling at her hazy eyes and relaxed face.

"Better?" He whispered as he eyed her lips, the pretty glossy paint a little smudged from the blunt paper but still incredibly enticing. He found himself playing with the ends of her hair, twisting the soft, smooth tresses around his fingers aimlessly.

"Yeah. Nice and warm now." She nodded with a smile, her own hand reaching out to touch his facial hair.

"Good. Your hair is so soft, really shiny." Dylan muttered as he continued to twirl her hair around his fingers, exhaling heavily through his nostrils at the feeling of her fingers on his face.

"Thank you. I like your beard." She smiled as she thumbed his chin.

"Thanks, sweetie." Dylan laughed softly as he brushed her hair over her shoulder, letting her touch his face.

"You smell really good, and you're warm." She breathed out as she shifted closer to him beneath the blanket.

Dylan uttered a, come here and took hold of her hips to pull her onto his lap. He placed his hands on her thighs, feeling her soft skin beneath his palms. He moaned softly as she leaned forward and gently scratched his facial hair along his jawline.

"Feels good." He mumbled as he moved his hands along her thighs, and took hold of her backside over her shorts.

"Your hands feel nice, too."

Dylan shivered, feeling tingles in his scalp and down his spine at her soft omission. He gripped her backside a little firmer, fingertips digging into her flesh over her shorts to pull her closer. He leaned in just a little, closing the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers for the very first time. Dylan worked his fingers into her hair as they kissed, her fingertips pressed to his jawline as she whimpered into his mouth making him feel wild for her.

"Dylan." She whispered against his lips as she moved her hands to the back of his neck.

"Sweetie " Dylan grumbled as he pushed his own hands up the back of her shirt. He kissed the corners of her mouth as his thumbs caressed her back, loving how she curled her body into his.

"Kiss me again." She begged softly as she pressed her forehead to his.

Dylan did as requested of him, kissing her lips and slowly slipped his tongue in her mouth while he kept a hand on her back inside of her shirt. His moan matched hers as his tongue explored her mouth, their hands all over each other. He slid his hands into the back pockets of her shorts and grabbed her backside, pulling her even closer to him.

"Watch your hips." Dylan muttered into their kiss, his hands gripping her sides to cease her back and forth movement. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he did.

"M'sorry." She blushed as she pulled away from him slightly, chewing her bottom lip.

"No, no. It's not like that. It's just that I promised myself I would take it slower with you. And these hips are making it a little difficult. It's not that I don't like it. I do." Dylan muttered as he eased them down to the outdoor couch, positioning himself between her legs as he thumbed her chin and reclaimed dominance.

"Why slow? And why me?" She questioned as she pulled at the small gold chain around his neck.

"Because I like you, a lot. And sometimes I have a tendency to take this fast and not ruin it with sex, but get there too quick without a foundation." Dylan explained with a soft sigh, looking over her pretty face.

"I'm just happy to have you kiss me, and be close to me." She breathed out as she pulled her nails gently down his chest, making him smile.

She had coaxed Dylan out of the Audi, and got him back into the house. He didn't make it passed the foyer, though. His shirt off, and pants around his ankles.

"C'mon, sweetie." Dylan groaned as he palmed himself over his boxers, pinning his half naked girlfriend to the table at the front door. Her shorts were long since discarded into the backseat of his car, her bra undone under her shirt.

"Baby." She hummed as he pulled off her shirt then slid her bra off her arms, his lips leaving a trail of kisses from either elbow back up to between her breasts and her neck.

"Bed is too far." Dylan grumbled into her neck as he grabbed her thighs and lifted her up onto the small table then wrestled her panties down her legs. He dropped his boxers to his ankles as he kissed up to the sweet spot beneath her ear, breathing a smile as she sunk her nails into his back.

"I don't trust this table, Dylan."

"Trust me though, right?" Dylan muttered as he pressed his forehead to hers and dropped his eyes down to watch himself touch her entrance with his tip. A groan rattled around in his chest as he soaked himself in her, teasing them both as he waited for her go ahead.

"With my life." She nodded as she rested her head back against the wall.

"I've got you. Won't let you fall." Dylan exhaled as he eased inside of her, taking hold of her thighs as he settled inside of his love. His lips made their way to hers for a messy kiss as he bottomed out, her walls sucking him in.

"Baby." She moaned out loud with a deep scratch to his back.

"I know." Dylan cooed. He pulled his hips back then snapped them forward, the small table rocking beneath them as he picked up his pace. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his fingertips pressing into her thighs.

"I love you, Dylan." She breathed out against his temple. After the night he had, after the smoke in his lungs altering his consciousness and the tension between them he couldn't help himself. He sealed his lips to her shoulder and with a firm thrust finished inside of her, thankful to feel her nails pull down his back as she fell with him.

"I love you, too."

..

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

soooo…… any fic drafts we can see a sneak peek of? the world is deprived of your dylan fics right now, the last one made me actually physically blush!!

Heh heh ;)

Always nice to hear that my writing has the intended effect, I gotta say. I actually do have a little something in the drafts.... and I suppossseeeee I could share a little bit of it... since you asked so nicely and complimented me in the process ;)

I'll stick it under a read more in case others would rather wait for the full piece (can't promise a release date on that... things have been... overwhelming around here lately).

Anon is referring to Welcome Home, if you also wanna blush at some smut ;)

‘Don’t hate me.’ 

Ugh. This was a message was annoyingly familiar. You watched as the three little dots appeared. A harbinger of news you were sure was going to fit right in with today’s theme. 

‘I know it’s date night. I know. I thought with the early call time I’d be home early.’ 

You sighed and tapped to reply, ‘It’s okay.’ 

‘It’s not. That’s three weeks in a row now.’

‘It’s not your fault… and to be honest? After the fucking day I’ve had? This news comes as no surprise.’ You let your head fall back onto your office chair. Fuck’s sake. The vibration in your palm drew your attention back to your phone.

‘Bad day huh?’ 

You scoffed quietly. ‘On a scale of bad to apocalyptic? We’re sitting at a solid… sudden onset explosive diarrhea in a booth at a Denny’s while Debbie the server looks on in horror.’

‘Oh. No.😬 That’s bad.’ 

‘Yup.’

‘Can I help?’ 

You sighed again. ‘I’ll be okay. Just get home when you can ❤️’ 

‘I’ll tip the scales a bit when I get home. At least back to a more neutral ‘stubbed my toe today’ kinda bad. I promise.’ 

You smiled for the first time today. ‘Oh?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Not gonna be an easy task.’

‘That’s alright. I like a challenge.’ 

You grinned down at your phone, amused by the fact that he had already managed to pull it back from Denny’s diarrhea in front of Debbie, to Denny’s diarrhea in the bathroom stall. ‘Someone’s confident.’ 

There was a long pause before you saw those three little dots again. When you read the message, you smiled and shook your head.

‘Someone’s pretty sure they’ve got every reason to be 😈'

[strangerstilinski]

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter thirteen

fic summary; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

chapter word count; 15,581

chapter warnings; underage drinking, very mild sexual content

chapter notes; between forced confessions, terrible tasting alcohol, and appearances from both peter hale and the argents, winter formal turns out to be quite the event. chaos ensues.

masterlist

c h a p t e r   t h i r t e e n (finale)

code breaker

When they pulled into the school parking lot on Friday night, Ben gestured for Amber to stay put as he got out of the car and jogged around to the passenger side to open the door for her.

"Thanks, but you really don't have to be quite so chivalrous." She laughed.

Ben shrugged with a grin, "Can't have you thinking I'm a bad date."

"I already know you're not a bad date. I'm the bad date, remember?" She reminded him as they linked arms and walked to the front of the lot.

"I thought you were a pretty good date right up until that little slip at the end," He looked down at her with a friendly smile, "It was a pretty big slip, but y'know.. For the other ninety-five percent of the date you were great."

She was laughing as they approached the school building. Jackson and Allison were standing just outside of Jackson's Porsche in the parking lot and Amber watched as the boy lifted a flask to his lips to take a long pull.

"Save some for the rest of us, Wittemore." She joked with a quiet laugh.

Jackson held the small metal container out toward her as he swallowed with a wince, "You want some?" He asked, voice husky from the liquor.

Her free hand twitched at her side. She looked up at Ben hesitantly and her date shrugged at her, releasing her arm with a small nudge.

"If you want some, I'm not gonna judge you." Ben told her softly.

Amber licked her lips and hesitated for another fraction of a second before accepting the flask. She lifted the small opening to her lips and poured some of the liquid into her mouth, swallowing with gag when the taste lingered on her tongue.

"God. What is that?" She asked in disgust as she handed it back over.

"It's bourbon." Jackson told her judgmentally, "Expensive bourbon."

She nodded, "Oh, yeah. You can tell. It- It's really good bourbon."

"You're welcome to have some more," Jackson grinned, holding it back out, "I mean, since you like it so much. I've got more in the car."

"Oh." She faltered, looking around her at Ben and Allison's amused gazes, "Yeah, totally. Thanks."

She took the flask from his grip again and gulped nervously in anticipation. She frowned and took a deep breath before tilting her head back and pouring what was left of the container into her mouth. There was slightly more than she'd been expecting from the weight of it and her mouth was full when she swallowed, fighting against another gag and coughing instead. As she did, she reached out to grab onto the sleeve of Ben's suit jacket and handed Jackson back the tiny metal flask blindly.

Jackson was laughing at her as Amber coughed once more and she heard Lydia's voice chime in from behind them as she recovered.

"Jackson." Lydia greeted, "You look handsome."

"Obviously," Jackson shook his head, tucking the flask back into the pocket on the inside of his jacket, "It's Hugo Boss."

With that, he pulled Allison's hand to loop around his arm and guided her toward the school.

Amber turned to face the new arrivals, dropping her hand from where it had been agressively squeezing Ben's arm. She eyed the pale pink satin of Lydia's dress before she allowed her gaze to flick over to Stiles.

She hadn't seen him in a full suit since his own mom's funeral in elementary school. Back then, the suit he'd worn had been slightly too large and he'd been red in the face from crying.

Now, when Amber looked at him, she floundered for a moment at how handsome he looked. His black suit jacket fit him nicely, and the white button down he had on underneath was crisp and tucked neatly into his dress pants. She swallowed distractedly as her mind drifted with the desire to grab him by his tie to pull him in for a kiss.

Only a few quiet seconds had passed and Amber shook her head to recover as she realized Lydia was speaking again.

"-I will not fall prey to society's desire to turn girls into emotional, insecure neurotics who pull up their dresses at the first flattering remark." Lydia told herself sternly.

"Lydia. You look gorgeous." Amber told her honestly. She leaned closer in the dark of the parking lot to study the red of her lipstick, "That lip color goes really nicely with your dress, too. Your lips really pop and- You look incredible, okay?"

Lydia was fighting a smile, "Really?"

"Really." Amber laughed.

Lydia sniffed and looked Amber over in scrutiny, "Gross. Did Jackson give you bourbon?"

"He might've given me a bit." She admitted with a quiet giggle, already beginning to feel the light buzz thrumming in her brain. She turned her attention toward Stiles with a grin, "Stiles, you look really-" She hesitated for a second, "Really handsome."

Stiles seemed surprised by her comment, "Oh, I. You too." He told her.

Amber laughed quietly and Lydia's elbow jammed into Stiles' side. He jerked in realization as he processed what he'd said.

"I mean- Not- You look really nice too, but not handsome. I meant beautiful. You- You look really beautiful." He amended.

Amber cheeks flushed, stomach flipping from his stuttered words of praise, and there was a small moment of silence between the four of them before Stiles spoke up again.

"And uh, Ben looks great too," He added awkwardly, "Can't leave him out, I mean, look at this guy." He reached out to punch Ben in the shoulder and the other boy blinked at Stiles incredulously as he continued, "So sharp. Uh, should we head inside? I think we should head inside."

His hand came up to rest on Lydia's shoulder and he steered her toward the school building without another word.

Amber simply watched him go for a second before Ben's hand came up to rest between her shoulder blades over the curls in her hair and he nudged her to follow behind them.

"Pull yourself together, Callisto." Ben laughed quietly, "You were practically drooling."

"I was not." She pouted, prying her eyes away from the back of Stiles' head to look up at the tall boy beside her.

"I know he's cute but you are never gonna make it through the night if you keep torturing yourself." He told her.

He squeezed her shoulder as he pulled their tickets out of his jacket pocket with his free hand and gave them to the chaperone at the door.

The minute that they made their way inside, Ben dragged Amber over toward the refreshments table and forced a small bottle of water into her hands.

"I don't trust the punch and since you've had alcohol, you should hydrate sooner rather than later." He told her quietly, looking out at the room around them.

She accepted the water and took a drink.

"Did you want to dance yet?" She asked, the music thrumming nicely with the tipsy buzz in her brain, "I think I wanna dance."

Ben laughed, urging her to take another long sip from her water before he led her into the crowd of students on the dancefloor.

She swayed in her heels along with the upbeat music and Ben reached out one hand to grip onto hers in case she lost her balance. She held onto it gratefully and bounced on her toes as the beat picked up, a few of their classmates bumping into her periodically as she moved.

They danced for twenty minutes before Ben's phone began to ring distantly from inside his jacket pocket.

"Is that you?" Amber asked when she noticed the sound, reaching into his suit jacket to dig around for the device as it continued to chime.

Ben frowned and reached around her fingers to pull out his phone. He read the name on the screen and his frown deepened.

"Sorry, give me a sec. I'll be right back." He assured her before jogging out into the hallway.

As Amber watched him go, she happened to catch sight of Scott hunched down behind an open set of bleachers at the side of the gymnasium and she took off in Scott's direction, only wobbling slightly in her heels as she went. When she came up behind him, she leaned closely into his space.

"Hi!" Amber said beside his ear.

Scott flinched and jumped back, turning to face her with a look of surprise.

"Dude! Aren't you supposed to have like, super-senses?" She laughed joyfully, "How did you not know I was standing right here?"

"I was focussed on Allison." Scott defended, calming down and looking his best friend over slowly, "You look nice."

"You look very nice too." She grinned and reached out to fiddle with the collar of his suit jacket, "Did you see Stiles? You both look so handsome-" She flattened his lapel back down beneath her fingers and pouted with an influx of emotion, "My two boys-"

Scott leaned into her space and unsubtly sniffed at her, "Are you drunk?" He asked with a frown.

"No. I'm lightly buzzed," She corrected with a shake of her head, reaching up to adjust his crooked tie around his neck with delicate fingers, "There's a difference."

Scott looked over her shoulder and his eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head and frowned in confusion. Amber spun around, still gripping onto his tie, to look at whatever he was focussed on but all she saw was a crowded room.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I-I thought I saw Peter."

"Well, did you see him?" She asked quickly, gaze snapping back over to her friend.

Scott shook his head again, "I'm not sure. He disappeared."

"Well, he's not a ghost, Scott." She told him, "You're probably just nervous. I mean, you snuck in, you don't want to get caught, I hope you're still thinking about how to find Derek, Allison's here with someone else-"

Scott shot her a dirty look and she shrugged her shoulders in mock surrender.

"Hey, don't give me that look. Everything I said is true." She defended.

"Hey, there you are-" Ben's voice sounded from behind them, "I couldn't find you."

"I'm gonna-" Scott said, pulling his tie from between her fingers and pointing his finger behind himself before taking off.

Amber turned to Ben with a grin, "So, what's up? Who called?"

He sunk in on himself sadly and frowned at her, "I, uh. I have to go. Home."

"What?" She asked incredulously, "Why? We just got here-"

"I'm really sorry." Ben apologized, "My parents are out of town and they hired a sitter for tonight but she just called and said she's like, vomiting. So, I have to-"

"Hey, no." She cut in quickly, reaching up to grab his bicep, "It's okay. Go watch your sisters. I understand."

"I'm really sorry." He repeated, "Like so unbelievably sorry. I know that Stiles-"

"Ben. Stop." She said gently, "I'll be fine, okay? I'll catch a ride with Stiles, or even Jackson if I have to. Don't worry. Go home, seriously."

He frowned at her and pulled her into a quick hug. Amber startled for a moment before wrapping her arms around him to return the embrace. After a few seconds, Ben pulled away and stepped backwards slowly.

"I'm sorry again." He frowned.

"I forgive you, again." She laughed quietly.

She watched him turn to go and her face didn't pull into a frown until he could no longer see her. Amber sighed sadly and gnawed on her lip, looking around the crowded room. She spotted Jackson and Danny spiking their drinks from a familiar flask unsubtly and she pursed her lips in thought before heading in their direction.

Jackson raised his eyebrows when he noticed her, "Callisto. What do you want?"

"Wanted to know if I can have more of your illicit refreshments." She told him, nodding at Danny in greeting before returning her attention to Jackson.

He looked at her skeptically, "Where's your date?"

"My date had to leave due to a vomiting babysitter." She told him, "And now I'm dateless and I'd really like it if my buzz was a little stronger."

Jackson shrugged at her explanation and poured out another small dose from the flask before handing over his spiked cup of punch, "All yours." He told her, "Try not to get too messy, will you? It's tacky."

She repeated his words back to him in a weak imitation of his irritating voice and rolled her eyes. She raised her cup in a salute of thanks before turning and heading off to find a table where she could sit down.

She spotted Lydia and Stiles sitting at an otherwise empty table and hesitated for only a moment before going over. Stiles had shed his jacket at some point and was slouching unhappily in his chair next to Lydia, who didn't look any more amused. Amber sighed and plopped down into the chair beside the redhead.

"Where's Ben?" Lydia asked, picking at her nail polish and looking bored.

Amber lifted her cup to her mouth and took a dejected sip. Lydia's eyebrows raised expectantly when she didn't immediately get a response and Amber swallowed with a frown before answering.

"Family emergency." She told her.

"W- Hold on. Davis left?" Stiles asked, sitting up straighter in his seat and looking at her in disbelief.

"Mhm." She responded, leaning back in her chair.

She peered down at her own breasts for a moment and tugged at the fabric of her dress where it must have gotten slightly askew from all of the dancing and moving around. She readjusted it before taking another tiny sip of the repulsive drink in her hand.

"Okay, I will not continue to be subjected to this." Lydia announced in annoyance.

Amber's attention snapped over to look at her two friends. Stiles' face had a light flush rising on his cheeks and Lydia was pointing between him and Amber as she shot them both an irritated look.

"You two are ridiculous." Lydia told them, "Sitting here and watching you both sulk is actually infuriating."

"What did I do?" Amber asked, taken aback.

"You?" Lydia repeated incredulously, "You made me go to this stupid dance with the guy you're practically in love with, even though I had a wonderfully stupid and incredibly hot guy from the football team all lined up-"

"Lydia. What the hell?" Amber finally cut her off with wide eyes, heart pounding and refusing to look over at Stiles, "What are you-"

"No." Lydia said, holding up a finger like she was scolding a small child, "No. You want to be here with Stiles. He wants to be here with you. This is stupid."

Amber frowned, "Lyds-"

Lydia sighed loudly and turned in her seat to face the boy beside her, "Do you want to kiss Amber? Right here, right now?" She asked him seriously.

Amber's heart pounded in her chest and her eyes finally darted over to Stiles. He was looking between them with a dark flush on his cheeks, mouth hanging open as he floundered.

"I, uh. Wha-" Stiles articulated slowly.

Lydia's glare intensified, "So help me god. If you don't answer the question in the next two seconds-"

"Yeah, I- Yeah." Stiles interrupted, swallowing nervously and glancing at Amber across the table.

She could barely hear anything over the heavy pounding of the blood pumping in her ears. Her right hand tightened around the plastic of her cup.

Lydia was smiling as she turned to Amber, reaching out to delicately place her fingers over where Amber's free hand was resting on her own thigh.

"Amber," Lydia started almost condescendingly, speaking slowly as if she were dealing with a two year old, "Do you want to kiss Stiles?"

"I, yeah. I do. I like, really, really do." She said quietly, eyes wide.

Lydia patted Amber's hand and stood from the table.

"Great. My work here is done. Have a good night, you two." She told them before turning away, "It's like second grade all over again." Lydia muttered as she strutted off.

Amber didn't move for a moment, her brain fuzzy with adrenaline and a hint of alcohol.

"You wanna kiss me?" She repeated in question after a few seconds passed.

"Is that.. An actual question or an invitation?" Stiles asked, avoiding eye contact and fiddling with a napkin on top of the table.

"Whichever." She told him.

His gaze snapped back to hers and they both paused again for a few seconds.

"Okay. I, d'you- Hallway?" Stiles asked dumbly.

She nodded with wide eyes, "Hallway." She agreed.

When she stood from her seat, she swayed slightly from a combination of the fog in her brain and her high heels. Stiles came to stand beside her and grabbed her hand, tugging her away in the direction of the doors quickly.

They stepped into the hallway and her heart continued to pound in her chest, only now it was with excitement. Stiles didn't stop pulling her along once they broke through the doors. He continued to tug her down the hall and around a corner until the music from the gym was only a dull thumping of bass in the distance.

"Stiles-" She called out quietly, pulling at his hand.

He came to a stop and turned around to look at her with wide eyes, "Yeah?"

Stiles' chest was rising and falling heavily. His face was flushed bright red underneath the speckles of moles dotting cheeks. His hand was damp with sweat where it was gripping tightly onto hers. Amber desperately wanted to kiss him.

So she did.

She tugged forcefully on his hand and when Stiles stumbled forward, she took a step closer. She reached up to cup his face and guided him to tilt his head down until their mouths slotted together softly. He huffed out a small breath in surprise and before she could relish in the feeling of his lips on hers, he was pulling back just a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking slowly between hers in contemplation.

"Have you had more alcohol since the last time I saw you?" He questioned quietly against her mouth.

She nodded with a quiet sound of affirmation, leaning up onto her toes to bring their lips back together but Stiles brushed her hand away from his face and raised one of his own to grip her shoulder so he could push her down until her heels touched back onto the floor and he pulled back to look at her again.

"I feel like we shouldn't- I'm- If you're drunk-" He stuttered out.

"Stiles." She interrupted softly, squeezing his hand in hers.

"Yeah?" He asked quickly.

"I promise I'm not drunk. And I'm gonna need you to kiss me again." She whispered, "Now."

"Are you sure?" He questioned, fingers tightening around her shoulder for a fraction of a second.

Amber nodded, "Really, really sure." She repeated.

Stiles hauled her back in quickly, his fingers sliding into her hair and releasing her hand from his own to grab at her waist. He tugged her closer and she sighed contentedly into his mouth as their lips slotted together more comfortably.

His mouth on hers felt right. The kiss soft and firm and so fucking perfect she was instantly convinced that her lips had to have been made for his. Her stomach was alive with butterflies and her heart was determined to beat it’s way out from beneath her ribcage and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to exist now without his mouth on hers.

She reached out to his fancy dress shirt and fisted her hands into the fabric on either side of his hips while they kissed, pulling him along for a few steps until he was caging her back against the wall in the hallway. The stone was cold as it touched her bare back and she gasped in surprise at the chill of it pressing against her skin. When her mouth dropped open, Stiles tilted his head just so and his tongue slipped into the opening to brush against hers.

At the first touch of his tongue, her mind grew hazy and she tugged harshly at the fabric of his shirt. The action pulled Stiles firmly against her and he let out a soft, needy noise into her mouth when his groin pressed against her hip.

She separated their lips to take an unsteady breath and Stiles rested his forehead against hers as they both panted quietly.

"Sorry." He murmured in apology.

He let the hand he had in her hair slowly trail down until it rested lightly at the curve where her neck met her shoulder, his thumb brushing up and down softly over her collarbone. He shifted back until their lower halves were no longer pressed together and she found herself genuinely mourning the loss of contact.

She frowned in the small distance between their faces and reached up to place her right hand at the back of his neck, guiding their mouths back together and tugging him back against her with her grip on his waist. When Stiles released another small sound against her lips at the contact, she angled her head and kissed him deeper.

When he rolled his hips unconsciously against her a minute later, her fingers tightened around the back of his neck. She sighed quietly at the feeling of him and there was an aching heat building between her thighs as she focussed on the point where his obvious arousal was slowly hardening against her.

The hand he had on her hip slid slowly until it was resting over the arch of her back where her spine curved to meet her ass and Amber tightened her fingers around the soft fabric of his dress shirt when he pulled her closer.

His hand at the base of her neck readjusted until his thumb could press lightly into her chin and he guided her to tip her head to the side. His lips skimmed across her face slowly and he pressed tender kisses along her cheek. He continued to tilt her head with his thumb sliding along her jaw until could lower his mouth to kiss lightly at her neck. She gasped out a quiet breathy noise and automatically lifted up onto her toes to push against his mouth more firmly as his lips kissed softly at her throat.

"Stiles-" She said breathlessly. It came out too airy, like an unconscious expression of pleasure rather than a signal. She gasped when he sucked lightly at the sensitive skin under her jaw and took a shaky breath before trying again more firmly, "Stiles."

She moved her hand from the back of his neck to his jaw and pushed his face away from her slightly. He leaned his head back and looked down at her with dazed eyes.

"We should probably-" Her chest was rising and falling quickly and she rubbed her thumb softly along his jaw as she tried to calm her breathing, "Should definitely slow down."

He dropped his forehead down against hers again and heaved a deep sigh before pulling back to look at her, "Yeah. Yeah, you're right-"

"Sorry." She apologized quietly, watching his face closely in the dimmed light of the hallway.

"Hey, no, don't apologize. Not for that." Stiles told her seriously. He readjusted his grip on her jaw and pressed his fingers into her cheek to pull her in for another chaste kiss before taking a few steps back, "God. I seriously need like- Two minutes where your mouth isn't only an inch away."

Amber watched him in amusement while he frowned and reached down to uncomfortably adjust himself in his dress pants. She lifted a hand up to her own face to cover the small smile pulling at her lips.

He caught her gaze and shot her a small glare in jest, "Oh, you find this funny?" He asked her with an incredulous grin, gesturing to his pants.

"No," She shook her head with a serious expression, "No, not funny at all."

He narrowed his eyes playfully at her once more, "Alright, you." He stepped forward to press a final conciliatory kiss to her lips, "Go back in and I'll be there in a minute."

She frowned but took a small step back in the direction of the gymnasium.

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom real quick." He explained in response to her silent question.

"Oh, you're going to the bathroom, are you?" She asked, grinning at the insinuation.

"W- I'm not- This is embarrassing enough, okay? I just- I'll see you in a minute." Stiles shook his head with a flush on his cheeks.

She laughed and held her hands up in surrender as she backed away, "Sorry, I'm going. I'm going."

She took one final survey of how debauched and truly obscene he looked before she turned on her heels and headed back toward the gym with a giddy smile on her lips. Her gaze drifted across the crowded room once she stepped through the doors again and she picked up her pace when she caught sight of Lydia sitting back at their table, nursing a cup of punch.

Once she was within arms reach, she grabbed Lydia's hand from the tabletop and pulled the girl up out of her chair. The moment her friend was on her feet, Amber's arms were wrapped around her in a tight hug.

"I love you so much right now, I could kiss you." Amber told her quickly.

Lydia stepped back to look at her friend with a barely there smile of amusement, "It looks like you've gotten plenty of kissing done already." She pointed out, reaching up to fix the mess Stiles had made of the hair on the right side of Amber's head, "Was there anything more than kissing?" Lydia questioned casually.

"Just kissing." Amber told her, "Really hot, glorious, incredible kissing."

"Oh, I can see just how hot and glorious it was." Lydia grinned devilishly, pressing her fingers into a tender spot that Amber couldn't see on her underside of her jaw bone.

"God. Do I have a hickey?" She asked quickly, reaching up to press her fingers over the spot Lydia had touched, "Please tell me I don-"

"It's not a hickey." Lydia promised, "Calm down. It's just a little pink."

She sighed in relief and dropped her hand, looking over at the spot where Lydia had taken up residence while they'd been gone with a frown.

"Have you danced at all?" Amber asked.

Lydia shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, "No, and I don't plan to."

"Oh, come on, Lyds," She goaded, grabbing the redhead's hands in hers to uncross her arms and tugging her in the direction of the dance floor, "Please dance with me?"

Lydia pouted dramatically and rolled her eyes but followed behind Amber without protest.

The song that was playing through the gymnasium was a slow one, so when they stepped out onto the dancefloor Amber put her hands around Lydia's waist and grinned as she guided the redhead to sway with her. Lydia brought her arms up around the back of Amber's neck and moved slowly along with the beat, meeting her friend's gaze and smiling back at her with a small roll of her eyes.

They danced closely to the familiar song for a few minutes before a loud voice erupted across the gym.

"McCall! I see you!" Coach Finstock's voice yelled out over the music. "Come here, buddy! McCall!"

Amber turned her head to see the teacher pushing his way slowly through the crowd of teens. Scott's eyes widened from the other side of the gym and he ducked down as he moved through the dancing bodies in the opposite direction. Amber watched as her best friend snuck around the spot where she and Lydia were dancing and came to a stop in front of Danny and his date beside them.

"Danny. Danny, dance with me." Scott said frantically.

Coach Finstock was still yelling as he pushed through to get to the other side of the dancefloor and Scott looked between their teacher and Danny nervously.

"What?" Danny blinked in confusion.

"Dance with me." Scott repeated with wide eyes.

Danny looked between Scott and his date slowly, "No."

Coach had nearly reached them and Amber watched the situation in amusement.

"Please!" Scott begged, "Right now!"

Scott's hands scrambled to untangle Danny from his date and he shoved himself between them. Danny shrugged at his date with a frown as Scott pulled his arms up onto his waist and brought his own arms up to wrap around Danny's shoulders.

"McCall!" Coach said loudly as he stepped up to the couple, "You're not supposed to-" He paused in confusion as he looked between the two boys, "What the hell are you do- What the hell are you doing?"

"Yes, Coach?" Scott asked with a look of wide-eyed innocence, tightening his arms around his dance partner's neck as he pulled Danny closer.

The music had quieted between songs and Coach's raised voice had been loud in the sudden silence. A majority of the gymnasium was turned to see who Coach was yelling at and they all frowned at the sight of the two boys dancing in front of him.

Coach seemed to catch on to the train of thought of the people around him and he backtracked at the perceived homophobia.

"Okay.. Oh, ho, ho- Ha! Hold on," He started, addressing the room at large, "You.. I was just saying that he's not supposed to- I mean, I wasn't saying that he shouldn't- You guys don't think.." He took a small step back from Scott and Danny with a nervous smile, "I-I was- Just dance, everybody! Just dance! Dance! It's a party!"

After shooting a final look of warning toward Scott, Coach disappeared into the crowd again.

Amber snorted softly and readjusted her hands over the silky material at the bottom of Lydia's spine. She watched Scott release Danny with a pat on the shoulder, stepping back and shot the other boy a thumbs-up.

"Thanks, dude! I owe you!" Scott called out before taking off.

A new song started up after a minute and Amber peered at the people around them as they danced. She spotted Scott and Allison now wrapped up in one another's arms closely. After another minute, Lydia slipped her arms from around Amber's neck and took a small step back.

"What's wrong?" Amber asked with a frown as her own hands fell to her sides, "You okay?"

"Just.. I need to take a little break." Lydia told her with a sad smile.

Amber nodded in understanding, "Is that code for going to talk to Jackson?"

Lydia looked momentarily taken aback by her friend's attentiveness before nodding slowly with a small pout on her lips and Amber reached out to squeeze Lydia's hand with a reassuring smile.

"I get it. Go ahead, Lyds." She said encouragingly.

She watched Lydia go and when the redhead was through the doors and out of sight, Amber shuffled on her feet awkwardly for a moment in uncertainty. A slow song was still playing and she was just debating heading over to snag another bottle of water when someone grabbed her hand to gently pull her back a step.

She teetered in her heels and spun around to see Stiles standing right behind her, tugging her against him. When her gaze went to his face, Stiles brought a hand up to cup her cheek and he ducked down to give her a soft kiss that had her stomach fluttering wildly.

"Hi." He said gently as he pulled back.

He was quick to wrap his arms around her waist and she followed his lead by curling her own arms tightly around the back of his neck, holding on to her own elbows as they began to sway to the music with their chests pressed together.

"I distinctly remember you saying something about needing time away from my mouth." She laughed quietly, licking her lips unconsciously to taste the lingering essence of him again following the chaste kiss.

"I had my two minutes away," He spoke softly into her ear, "Now I'm thinking I should actually figure out a way to have you within kissing distance at all times."

She snorted a quiet laugh into his shoulder, "You're ridiculous."

She tightened her arms around his neck and leaned against him to prop her chin up over his shoulder as they moved slowly in time with the music. They made it through another entire song before Amber sighed quietly, loosening her grip around his shoulders and taking a small step back from him.

"Okay. Now I need to use the bathroom." She laughed quietly.

"Must be all that bourbon." Stiles told her with a small smile of amusement.

"Oh, cut it out." She wiped the grin off his face by pressing her lips against his in a quick kiss, "Stop picking on me and let me go because I actually do need to pee. Really badly."

Stiles dropped an arm around her shoulder and guided her through the crowd of dancing bodies, releasing her at the edge of the room and giving her a gentle push out the doors and into the hallway.

She used the bathroom outside the gymnasium quickly, wiping a small bead of water that she'd somehow missed when drying her hands onto the velvet of her dress as she was exiting the girl's room. When she looked up again, she spotted Jackson walking back inside the building with a terrified look on his face.

"Jackson? What's wrong? Did you talk to Lydia?" She asked quickly as she approached him.

"I-I was out behind the school-" He started slowly, voice shaking as he looked at the girl in front of him.

"Jackson, is Lydia okay?" She redirected quickly, her heart rate picking up in her chest.

He shook his head and her stomach dropped before he spoke, "Not Lydia. I-I. Allison's dad-"

"What about Allison's dad? What did you say to him, Jackson?" She demanded, stepping closer so that they were almost pressed together in the dark hallway.

"I-I told him- He promised he wouldn't-" Jackson continued to stammer, "But I told him- I told him Scott-"

She shoved Jackson back against the wall behind him aggressively, her hands shaking, "What have you done?" Her voice cracked with anxiety and the sheer volume of her yelling, "Do you have any idea-"

"Hey- Hey! What's going on?" Stiles' voice came from behind her. Amber had been reaching out to grab at Jackson's suit but Stiles' arms wrapped around her and pulled her a step back, "What happened? What did Jackson-"

"He told Allison's dad about Scott! Her dad is here and he-" Amber said angrily, before ice seemed to fill her body in fear, "Oh, god. Where's Scott?"

She turned to Stiles with wide eyes and he looked just as nervous.

"Jackson, what did you do?" Stiles asked rhetorically, shooting a glare at the boy over Amber's shoulder.

"Lydia's still outside looking for Jackson," She realized suddenly, words coming out between anxious gasps, "And the hunters are- What do we-"

Stiles put his hands over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, "We'll split up and we'll look for them both, okay? Everything's gonna be okay."

She took a shaky breath and turned to shove Jackson against the wall one final time before she was running outside.

"Lydia!" She called out as soon as she stepped out of the school and into the cold night air. She continued to call out for her friend as she rounded the building and crossed over into the side parking lot near the lacrosse field, "Lydia?"

She heard Lydia's voice calling out for Jackson in the distance and Amber reached down to rip her uncomfortable strappy heels from her feet, taking off in a run across the cold grass. The floodlights around the field began to click on loudly, illuminating the lacrosse pitch in a slow circle until she could see where Lydia was standing at the center of the field.

Amber slowed as she took her first step between the bleachers while a dark figure stepped out on the other side of the field in Lydia's eyeline. Amber lifted her arm over her face in an attempt to block some of the bright light from above as she tried to distinguish the shadow with squinted eyes.

"Jackson?" Lydia questioned the mystery person at the other side of the field in a quieter voice.

"Lydia, no. Wait-" Amber said, only a few feet behind her friend now.

"Amber! Lydia!" Stiles' voice screamed frantically from the end of the pitch, "Run!"

Amber's gaze snapped between Stiles and the dark figure in front of them as it took another few steps toward them. The floodlights over the field illuminated Peter Hale's face and Amber reached out to pull at Lydia's wrist as her heart thumped violently in her chest.

"Lydia, you need to run. You need to run now, please-" Amber begged, tugging a confused Lydia backwards in an attempt to get the redhead hidden behind her.

Peter tilted his head, his eyes slowly shifting to a bright glowing red as he came to stand in front of them. He growled as he shoved Amber to the ground, his face beginning to shift deeper, fangs dropping down from his mouth. The brunette fell to the grass hard and watched on in horror from only a few feet away as the werewolf bit down, sharp teeth sinking into Lydia's waist.

"No!" Amber screamed, already crawling toward them as she watched the dark red of Lydia's blood start to seep out to stain the pale pink satin of her dress.

Peter leaned back but continued to hover protectively over the redhead's unmoving body, forcing Amber to freeze with her hands only a few inches away from her friend. Stiles finally reached them and dropped to his knees at Lydia's other side, both he and Amber watching Peter in fear as a trail of blood dripped from his mouth.

"Don't kill her." Amber begged, hands shaking with the need to reach out for her friend, "Please."

"Of course not." Peter agreed quickly, eyes flicking over to Stiles, "If he tells me how to find Derek."

"W- What?" Stiles stuttered in surprise.

"Tell me. How to find Derek." Peter repeated slowly, tracing a claw down the side of Lydia's unconscious face teasingly.

"He doesn't know!" Amber cried immediately, "We don't-"

"Yeah, I- I don't know that." Stiles reiterated between shaky breaths, "How would I know that?"

"Because you're the clever one, aren't you?" Peter smiled condescendingly at him, "And because deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles."

Amber's gaze cut to Stiles with wide eyes and she spoke in a shaky voice, "Stiles, what's he talking about?"

He shook his head, "I-I don't know!"

"Tell me the truth, Stiles." Peter growled angrily.

The werewolf moved with a sudden quickness that the teens could barely comprehend and before they knew what was happening, Amber was upright on her knees, her back pressed flush against Peter's chest as he knelt behind her, the fingers of his right hand wrapped around Amber's throat tight enough that she could feel his sharp nails digging into the flesh of her neck painfully.

"Tell me the truth. Or I will rip her apart." Peter continued.

She squeaked quietly in fear and shifted on her knees, reaching up to grab onto Peter's arm desperately, her eyes filling with tears as she met Stiles' own terrified gaze.

"Look- Look, I don't know, okay? I sw-" Stiles faltered when Peter's fingers gripped tighter at her throat and she let out a whine, "I swear to god I have no idea!" He yelled anxiously.

Amber felt the claws press deeper into the skin of her neck and she whimpered again quietly as she pulled at the sleeve of the werewolf's jacket. The moment the tip of one of his claws punctured her skin, she felt the sharp sting of it and gasped in pain.

"Tell me!" Peter repeated, voice loud and demanding beside Amber's ear.

"Okay, okay! Look-" Stiles relented, "I-I think he knew-"

"Knew what?" Peter asked quickly, refusing to loosen his grip on the girl in front of him.

"Derek. I think he- I think he knew he was gonna be taken-" Stiles explained shakily.

Amber looked at him in confusion through the tears in her eyes.

"By the Argents." Peter clarified.

"Yeah." Stiles squeaked.

Peter jostled Amber in his arms as he straightened his back, "And?"

"When they were shot. He and Scott-" Stiles spoke nervously, eyes bouncing back and forth between Peter and Amber, "I think he took Scott's phone."

"What?" Amber squeaked before whimpering quietly when Peter shook her slightly in a demand for silence.

"Why?" Peter asked Stiles.

Stiles looked at Amber regretfully as he spoke, "Because they all have GPS now. So if he still has it on him, and it's still on-" He explained, "You can find him."

Peter's grip around Amber's neck and body loosened all at once and he pushed her forward as he got to his feet behind her. She caught herself in the grass on her hands and Stiles rushed over to her side, his hands coming up to brush gently over her arms and her waist and her face, touching softly over everything he could as he checked that she was okay.

Her hands were still shaking as she brushed Stiles off to crawl forward and lean over Lydia. Amber pushed an errant lock of her strawberry blonde hair off of her face with trembling fingers before her gaze dropped to the dark stain still spreading across the fabric of Lydia's dress. She trailed her hand lightly over the spot and her stomach turned as her cold fingers came back coated with the warmth of her friend's blood.

"Lydia?" Amber asked quietly, voice choked with tears. "Oh, god."

Peter had produced a handkerchief from one of his jacket pockets and he was delicately wiping the two girl's blood away from his face and fingertips. When he was finished, he tucked the stained cloth away again and turned his attention to the teens still on the ground in front of him.

"Alright. Let's go." He told them simply, as if they were dilly-dallying and making him late for a meeting.

"No." Amber protested quickly, tearing her eyes away  from her bloodied fingers to look at the werewolf standing above her, "We're not leaving her here."

"I don't need you." Peter dismissed, "But Stiles is coming with me."

Her chest tightened in worry at the thought of Stiles going off alone with Peter Hale, "No. No, he-"

"I'm not- I'm not going anywhere-" Stiles protested with a shake of his head, pained gaze darting over to Amber as she took in shaky breaths.

"You can call your friend," Peter acquiesced, "Tell Jackson to come out to the field. That's all you get."

Stiles continued to look at Amber with wide eyes, his shoulders still trembling with nerves and adrenaline.

"Call Jackson." Amber told him quietly, nodding her head in what she hoped looked reassuring rather than showing the terror that she was truly feeling.

Stiles frowned and his lips quivered around a shaky breath, looking like he desperately wanted to say something, but after a moment, he closed his eyes and got to his feet, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

While he called Jackson, Amber's gaze dropped back down to Lydia and she exhaled a trembling breath of fog into the air. She brushed her friend's hair back from her face again gently and her heart clenched at the small streak of blood that her fingertips left behind over the pale skin of Lydia's cheekbone.

Amber flinched when Stiles dropped back down to his knees beside her, his hands gripping her cold arms as he studied her worriedly.

"Jackson'll be here in a minute." He said quietly.

She nodded and bit down on her lip, jaw trembling and causing her teeth to chatter over the flesh in a combination of fear and chill from the cold. She felt her eyes prickle with heat again at the reminder that Stiles would be leaving with Peter and she desperately tried to take in every tiny mole dotted along cheeks, her gaze scanning his face intently.

"Stiles." Peter's voice cut in, making them both flinch, "Now."

Stiles teetered back and forth for a moment, seeming to hesitate before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Amber's lips with a hand at the back of her head. The kiss was chaste, but he still held his mouth firmly against hers, lingering a second longer than was strictly necessary with a werewolf impatiently hovering behind them.

"Teenagers exhaust me." Peter declared in annoyance.

Amber reached up to push at Stiles' shoulder and the two separated reluctantly, "Go." She told him.

He nodded with a frown and got to his feet again. Peter held an arm out in a gesture toward the parking lot and he and Stiles walked away, disappearing from her line of sight to where the Jeep was parked around the side of the building.

It was only another minute before Jackson made it out onto the field, his legs carrying him quickly and his eyes drawn to where Lydia was laying on the ground, his face dropping in horror at his ex girlfriend's bloodied body.

"What happened?" He asked worriedly.

"The Alpha happened," Amber told him quickly, "Just call 911."

"You haven't called 911 yet?" Jackson asked in disbelief.

Amber waved a hand in gesture to the tight fabric of her dress, "This thing doesn't exactly have any pockets for my phone." She snapped. "Just do it."

Jackson glared at her before his eyes dropped back to Lydia in worry and he was nodding and pulling his phone out to call for help.

Amber leaned down to press a soft kiss to Lydia's forehead and swallowed past a lump in her throat. As she heard Jackson's phone call coming to an end, she climbed to her feet reluctantly.

"I swear to god if you let anything else happen to her-" She told him threateningly.

"What do you mean?" He asked quickly, watching her move past him, "Where're you going?"

She spun sharply to look at him again, eyes alight with anger, "I have to go find Scott," She bit out accusingly, "Because someone told a bunch of werewolf hunters who he is and now he's in danger too and he has no idea! I am not letting any more of my friends get hurt tonight."

Jackson's face twitched with an indiscernible emotion, "Be careful." He told her with a surprising gentleness.

She nodded gratefully, casting one last look at Lydia and taking a trembling breath before she turned and ran. The grass was cold against her bare feet as she took off in the direction of the parking lot at the back of the school building. It was the one of the only places she hadn't searched before she'd found Lydia and she knew it was the best place to start looking for her best friend.

"Scott!" She called out, her voice a sharp whisper in the dimly lit lot. She stepped into the treeline and peered into the dark forest for any sign of him, "Scott!"

Someone suddenly rammed into her from the side and a hand reached up to cover her mouth as they pulled her back a few steps into the woods. Amber made a small noise of protest at the familiar position and clawed at the arm across her chest frantically.

"Shh! Amber! Amber it's just me-" Scott's voice spoke quietly into her ear, dropping his hand from her mouth and loosening his grip around her shoulders to allow her to spin around to face him.

She punched him in the shoulder with as much force as she could manage, "Don't ever grab me like that again! I thought-" She hissed quietly, before remembering exactly why she'd been looking for him in the first place, "Oh, god! Allison's dad! He's here and he knows that you-"

"I know," Scott told her quickly, "I already ran into them. And Allison saw the whole thing, so now she knows too."

"Scott," She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. Scott's arms came up to encircle her back and she felt him take a shaky breath in and out over her hair, "Tonight is- I-I'm so sorry. And- and Peter-"

Scott took a step back and cut off her words quickly, "We need to get Derek." He took a whiff of the air between them, nose scrunching in thought as he sniffed before his gaze dropped down to her neck, "Are you bleeding?"

She reached up a hand to wipe at the right side of her neck where the claw on Peter's thumb had lightly pierced through the skin.

"I'm fine." She assured him, immediately trying to refocus the conversation, "How are the two of us going to find Derek?"

Scott grabbed onto her hand to began to pull her deeper into the woods. They hadn't made it more than a few steps when Amber winced in pain as a twig snapped sharply beneath her bare feet.

"A wolf howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack, right?" Scott repeated the words she and Stiles had told him over a month before, before Scott truly even believed that he was a werewolf.

"Oh my god." She whispered in realization as they continued to trek through the woods.

"I'm gonna call out to him and hope he howls back." Scott finished.

"So why don't you do it, then?" She questioned in confusion, teeth chattering as they began to hike up an incline, "I mean, where are we going?"

"Need to get somewhere that the sound'll carry better.." His steps slowed slightly and turned to face her in the dark, "You're.. Not wearing shoes." He stated.

"Well, I was wearing heels," She explained in confusion at his assessment, shivering slightly harder now that they were no longer moving, "Wh-"

"Crap. Why didn't you-" Scott shook his head and stripped his suit jacket off quickly before handing it to her, "Dude, why didn't you say something sooner?"

She stuffed her arms into his jacket without question and huffed out a shaky breath at the sudden warmth, "Me being cold is the least of our problems right now." She squinted at him in the dark in confusion as Scott squatted down and began untying his shoes rapidly, "What are you doing?" She questioned.

He pulled off his dress shoes and socks before sliding his feet back into his fancy shoes barefoot and re-tying them. His fingers worked at the laces quickly and when he was done, he handed her his discarded black socks.

"Dude, it's gonna be a problem if you lose toes." He told her as he placed the socks into her hand.

She thanked him quickly and bent to pull them onto her bare feet. She'd barely stood upright again when Scott took ahold of her wrist and began dragging her through the trees again with fast steps.

They hiked through the woods for another ten minutes before they emerged from the treeline at the prominent lookout point over the town. Scott released her and went to stand on the rock that jutted out further than the rest, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath in preparation.

When he released a loud, rumbling growl, it was reminiscent of the call he'd made to the Alpha that pivotal night at the school. Amber's skin erupted into goosebumps at the sound despite the jacket she was now wearing over her dress and she took a quiet, shaky breath as the sound faded out and the forest around them settled into silence again.

Scott slowly stepped back to stand beside her again and they both waited with bated breath as they listened for a response. After thirty seconds or so passed, Scott seemed to deflate and he shuffled on his feet in disappointment.

"It was worth a try, right?" Amber whispered, reaching a hand out to grab Scott's, "It's okay. We'll-"

Her voice cut out as they both heard a long howl in the distance. Her grip around his hand tightened automatically and she turned to find him already looking back at her with wide eyes.

"Was that-?" She started.

He nodded slowly, "Yeah." He suddenly pulled on her hand and tugged her sharply into the woods, moving through the trees with purpose, "Come on."

She followed with a tight grip on him as he led them in the direction he'd determined the howl had come from with his enhanced hearing. They were nearly sprinting and they kept up the aggressive pace for another ten or fifteen minutes before Scott finally slowed and released her sweaty hand.

"What-?" She asked quietly, trying to slow her labored breathing, "Are we-?"

Scott shushed her and motioned for her to follow behind him as he crept through the leaves more cautiously. She nodded in understanding and took in another deep breath, trying to watch her step in the dark as she stepped over small rocks and twigs on the forest floor.

When she looked up, Amber noticed the massive dark outline of the Hale house up the slope in front of them. She followed behind Scott as her mind raced with a confused barrage of thoughts, all of them circling back around to the same starting point.

Derek was at the Hale house.

Scott paused in his steps and appeared to pull a deep breath in through his nose before grabbing Amber's shoulders and directing her to stand behind a large tree.

"The only scent I'm picking up is you." He explained quietly.

Unsure whether she should be offended or not, she watched as he stepped back again. He turned and took another determined inhale through his nose and tilted his head in concentration.

When he took a purposeful step to the right, Amber followed behind him automatically. They rounded over toward the side of the property, still skirting around the bottom of the slope, until Scott stopped again.

As she came up to stand beside him, Scott was pulling at a large metal grate, the bars blocking off a rounded cement channel that opened up into some sort of cellar beneath the hill. He gave it a hard tug and the metal creaked agonizingly loud in the quiet night air, both of them flinching at the sound. Scott stepped into the cavern before turning and helping her climb through. Once they were inside, the space opened up into a painfully familiar dark passageway and Amber swallowed nervously and followed behind Scott as he continued to use his nose to guide them through the maze of dimly lit hallways.

When she spotted a familiar doorway, she pushed a hand against Scott's back to urge him to walk faster. He peered into the doorway cautiously before allowing them both to step into the room.

"Why would you bring her back here?" Derek demanded immediately upon seeing them.

Amber ignored him and ran over to the familiar control panel on the table along the wall. She rushed to turn the knob down, putting a stop to the flow of electricity that had been making Derek so weak.

"What do you mean back?" Scott asked in confusion.

As soon as she'd managed to cut the power, she darted forward to stand beside where Scott was already working to undo a shackle around one of Derek's wrists.

"Uh, hi. 'Her' is right here and can hear you just fine." She said to Derek, ignoring Scott's question entirely, "And, quite frankly? I'm not sure you're in a position where you should be getting picky about who's a part of your rescue party."

She was reaching her hands up to assist Scott and their hands fumbled, fingers brushing as they pulled at the metal latch.

"Did he mean 'back' as in 'you've been here before'?" Scott asked worriedly, not willing to let the subject drop as easily as she'd hoped and turning his head to look at the girl beside him.

"You didn't tell him?" Derek asked incredulously, frowning as they both continued to pull and tug at the buckle around his right wrist.

"Tell me what?" Scott asked.

When neither Derek nor Amber immediately responded to him, Scott nudged his best friend with his elbow.

"Amber." Scott prodded again as they finally got the latch on Derek's cuff undone, "Dude. What is he talking about?"

She was saved from having to answer when both Derek and Scott's attention suddenly snapped toward the doorway. Scott shoved her underneath the table in a poor attempt at hiding her while he himself moved to a dark corner of the room to the side of door.

A man who Amber had never seen before stalked through the doorway with an evil grin, his eyes thankfully focussed on Derek and Derek alone.

"Ready to have some more fun?" The man asked, lifting a hand to examine the back of his bruising fist, "To be honest, my knuckles are kind of hurting. So, I brought some help-" He pulled out a bat that he'd been holding behind his back with his other hand and tightened his grip on it menacingly, "But I need to warn you, I played in college."

The man swung the bat but Derek's newly unrestrained hand reached out quickly to grab ahold of it before it could make contact with his torso in the way the man had intended.

"I brought some help too." Derek told him darkly, raising his eyebrows and nodding behind the man to where Scott was stepping out of the shadows.

Scott grabbed the man from behind and ripped him away from Derek, throwing him across the room aggressively as Amber crawled out from underneath the table. She winced when he hit the wall with a loud thud, eyes drifting over to where he laid unmoving following the impact, and she swallowed, wondering whether he was unconscious or dead.

She shook her head to dislodge the thoughts and made her way over to Derek. He was pulling a piece of dried, bloody gauze from his abdomen from where the hunters had caused him some sort of physical abuse that he'd already managed to heal from.

She squatted down quickly to begin working at one of the cuffs around Derek's ankles. Her fingers trembled nervously as she worked to undo the difficult latch.

"Scott, help me with this." She called out over her shoulder after a moment.

"No." Scott replied determinedly.

Both Derek and Amber's attention snapped over to where Scott was slowly approaching from on the other side of the room.

"What?" Both Derek and Amber questioned in disbelief.

"Not until he tells me how to stop Peter." Scott explained.

Amber looked up at her best friend incredulously, "Scott, you're joking. This is kind of time sensitive."

"You really want to talk about this right now?" Derek reiterated.

"He's going after Allison and her family," Scott told them, "He's going to kill them."

"Maybe saving the murdery family of werewolf hunters shouldn't be our main priority right now?" Amber suggested in a frantic shout, turning her attention back to the large metal clasp in her fingers.

Scott ignored his best friend entirely, "Tell me how to stop him." He told Derek calmly.

"You can't!" Derek snapped, "Alright? Now, I don't know when Kate's coming back so just help Amber get me out of this now!" He yelled, pulling at his still-cuffed wrist, "Get me out right now!"

She let out a shaky breath when the manacle on Derek's left ankle fell open and she shuffled on her feet slightly to immediately begin working on the other one as Scott spoke behind her.

"Promise you'll help me."

"You wanna risk my life for your girlfriend? Your best friend's life?" Derek questioned angrily, "For a stupid little teenage crush that means absolutely nothing? You're not in love, Scott!" Derek yelled, "You're sixteen years old! You're a child!"

Her heart clenched at the desperation in Derek's voice and she winced as her finger caught on a jagged piece of the metal, slicing into the side of her middle finger painfully. She took a shaking breath and tightened her mouth as she continued to pull at the tight latch.

"Maybe you're right," Scott told Derek, "But I know something you don't. Peter said he didn't know what he was doing when he killed your sister, right?" Scott questioned.

She heard the rustling of paper behind her as she tugged at the metal in her hands with numb fingers.

"Well, he lied." Scott continued, "Remember this?"

Her attention snapped up for a second as Scott handed Derek a piece of paper over her head.

"You said this brought your sister to Beacon Hills, right?" Scott questioned the older werewolf.

"What is it?" Amber asked them from where she was still kneeling on the cold floor.

"Where did you get this?" Derek asked Scott.

"My boss told me three months ago someone came into the clinic asking for a copy of this picture. D'you wanna know who it was?" Scott questioned, "Peter's nurse."

The latch in Amber's hand finally came free painfully between her fingers as she gasped in surprise at Scott's words and she fell back onto the ground on her butt. Her gaze snapped up again to look between the boys in disbelief while she scrambled to get up off of the cold floor in her tiny dress.

"They brought your sister here so that Peter could kill her and become the Alpha. That's why you're going to help me." Scott spoke again.

Amber got to her feet quickly and began working at the final cuff around Derek's left wrist, rising up onto her tiptoes in the socks on her feet to get a better angle to pull at the difficult metal latch but Derek pushed her fingers away with his free hand. She looked at him in confusion while Scott continued to speak behind her.

"Just say you'll help me and I'll unlock your other-"

Derek pulled aggressively at his remaining restraint and the metal snapped and fell to the ground at Amber's feet. She looked at Derek with wide eyes as he rubbed at his sore wrist and glared at Scott over her shoulder.

"I'll help you." Derek told him.

After being forced to run across town on foot due to Peter Hale rendering his car keys completely useless by bending them with his bare hands, Stiles sprinted through the hospital’s emergency doors and straight into an elevator. Chest heaving, he aggressively and repeatedly pressed the button to take him up to the next floor, bouncing on his toes agitatedly as the metal box crept upward slowly.

When the elevator dinged loudly, Stiles slipped back out through the doors before they'd even slid fully open, dripping with sweat and breathing heavily as he frantically scanned the hospital waiting area. Before he had time to focus on anything in particular, his dad stood in front of him and blocked off his line of sight. The Sheriff placed his hands on his son's shoulders, guiding him backwards half a step, and focussing on him with a serious look.

"You know what?" His dad started, pulling Stiles' gaze up to his angry expression and pointing an accusing finger at the boy as he continued, "It's good that we're in a hospital, because I'm gonna kill you."

"I-I'm sorry," Stiles panted, still catching his breath as he began to explain, "I lost the keys to my Jeep. I had to run all the way here-"

"Stiles!" His dad interrupted in a raised voice, "I don't care!"

Stiles faltered for a moment with a frown, peering over his dad's shoulder and looking through a window to where Lydia was laying in a hospital bed, still unconscious. Mrs. Martin sat beside the bed, petting her daughter's hair back from her face lovingly with a grief-stricken expression.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Stiles asked softly.

"They don't know." His dad told him, lowering his voice to speak more quietly, "Partially because they don't know what happened. She lost a lot of blood. But there's something else going on with her."

"What d'you mean?" Stiles asked worriedly. He knew how sick Amber must be feeling, agonizing over her friend, and he ached in sympathy for her while also harboring his own worry for Lydia.

"The doctors say it's like she's having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock." His dad explained in a quiet whisper.

Stiles' gaze dropped to the floor as he thought about what Peter had told him about the possibility of Lydia's body rejecting the bite and killing her. His stomach tightened with anxiety as he swallowed.

"She was your date. Did you see anything?" The Sheriff asked his son, "I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked her?"

"No. No, I have no idea." He lied anxiously after a moment.

"What about Amber?" His dad followed up, "Or Scott?"

That drew Stiles' attention sharply up to his father's expectant face.

"What d'you mean?" Stiles asked immediately, "What about them?"

"Did either of them see anything?" His dad questioned obviously.

Stiles' heart dropped and his brain went slightly fuzzy with panic, "What d'you- Are they not here?"

"What are you talking about?" His dad questioned in disbelief, "I've been calling them on their cell phones. I haven't gotten a response from either of 'em."

Stiles let out a breath in anguish and his eyes drifted over to Jackson over his dad's shoulder. Jackson looked back at him with a shrug of genuine naivety, I don't know, the boy mouthed at Stiles silently in response.

"Yeah.. You're not gonna get one." Stiles finally told his dad in realization that neither Amber or Scott were currently in possession of their cell phones.

His stomach tied itself in knots, anxiety twisting in his gut.

Stupid, reckless, beautiful, selfless-

Amber. Who must have run off to Scott's aid the second that Stiles had left her.

Stiles was getting a stress headache already as he worried about everything that could've happened since he'd last seen her on the lacrosse field.

His dad led him away, into an unoccupied office typically used to privately discuss sensitive matters with the families of patients in the hospital. The Sheriff drilled Stiles again with the same questions, getting a more official statement of what Stiles knew about what had happened to his date.

Ten minutes later, his dad finally guided him back out into the hallway with a hand gripping tightly at his son's shoulder, "Stiles, listen," His father started, "Just- Go wait with your friends, alright?"

"Dad, look. You know all of this has something to do with Derek." Stiles told his dad desperately, finally cracking.

"Wh-" His dad paused in the middle of the hallway and turned to face him, "I thought you three said that you barely knew him?"

Stiles shrugged with a grimace, "Alright. Well, we might know him a little better than that."

The Sheriff looked up and down the hallway quickly before grabbing the back of Stiles' neck and guiding him into a corner of the hall with a firm grip, "You do realize I'm elected to this job. Right?" The man whispered aggressively.

"And if I help you figure out this case, you'll be re-elected," Stiles pointed out, "Am I right?" He turned to fully face his father with a sigh, "Dad, come on."

His dad's gaze drifted down the hallway toward Lydia's hospital room with a frown, "That girl in there has nothing to do with a six-year old arson case."

"Wh- When did you decide it was definitely arson?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

His dad gave him a sharp look for the volume of his voice while discussing a case before responding, "When we got a key witness," Stiles' mouth dropped open but he was cut off before he could speak, "And no. I'm not telling you who it is. But yeah. Yeah, we know it's arson. And it was possibly organized by a young woman."

"What young woman?" Stiles questioned immediately.

"If I knew that, she'd be in jail." His dad told him blankly.

Stiles' face pinched in frustration, "Was she young then or is she young now?"

"Wh-" The Sheriff's phone began to ring from his pocket, "She's probably late twenties." He told him, pulling out his phone and reading the name on the screen quickly, "Oh. I gotta grab this call."

"You don't know her name?" Stiles asked frantically.

"No, I don't." His dad defended quickly, "Wh- What is this twenty questions? All we know is that she had a very distinctive.. A uh, what do you call it? A pendant."

"What the hell is a pendant!" Stiles snapped as his dad peered down at his phone again.

His dad turned his attention back to him quickly, "Stiles, do you go to school?" He asked, raising his voice to match the volume of his son's, "A pendant! A pendant. It's a- It's a necklace. Now can I answer the phone?"

"Yes." Stiles told him with a sigh.

His dad took the call and started off down the hall, leaving Stiles standing in the middle of the corridor in a ball of anxiety. He reached up to rub at his short hair furiously in agitation, taking a deep breath as he spun around.

When the puzzle pieces finally slotted together in his brain regrettably slowly, his expression dropped further.

"Oh." He said in realization.

Allison's pendant. Allison's aunt. Who had helped take down Derek and then had proceeded to kidnap Amber.. And hide the both of them underneath the Hale House.. Where Peter Hale was currently going to get Derek.

He couldn't believe that it had taken him so long to put everything together.

He took off down the hallway in a fast paced walk and when he passed Jackson, the other boy chased after him frantically.

"Where are you going?" Jackson asked as he raced down the hallway beside Stiles.

"To find Amber and Scott." Stiles told him quickly.

"You don't have a car." Jackson said cynically.

"I'm aware of that," Stiles snapped, "Thank you."

"Hey, I'll drive." Jackson said, reaching out and pulling Stiles to a stop with a hand around his wrist.

Stiles ripped his arm out of Jackson's grip, "Look. Just because you feel guilty all of a sudden, doesn't make it okay. Alright? Half of this is still your fault."

Jackson paused for only a second, "Look, I have a car. And you don't. Do you want my help or not?"

"Alright," Stiles sighed before his brain supplied him with an idea, "Did you bring the Porsche?"

"Yeah." Jackson confirmed immediately, pulling his keys out of the pocket of his dress pants.

"Good," Stiles replied, ripping the keys from the other boy's fingers and already moving to walk down the hallway again, "I'll drive."

Stiles' steps stopped just as soon as they'd started at the sight of the person standing in the middle of the corridor, his feet carrying him a step back automatically and causing him to bump shoulders with Jackson.

"Boys." Mr. Argent greeted them, two lackeys hovering intimidatingly behind him for extra muscle, "I was wondering if you could tell me where Scott McCall is."

"Scott McCall?" Stiles repeated dumbly, "Um. Haven't seen him since the dance. Jackson, you?" He nudged the boy beside him and silently urged him to say the same.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Uh-" Jackson started slowly, "Um, I-" He released a shaky breath and turned his head toward Stiles worriedly.

"Oh, for the love of god." Stiles muttered anxiously, watching as the two men behind Mr. Argent stepped forward.

Each of the large men grabbed a teenage boy and dragged them down the hallway before throwing them violently through a set of double doors and into a small exam room for administering x-rays. Stiles and Jackson both collided with the edge of a metal table painfully and quickly worked to right themselves before turning to face the group of men behind them.

Mr. Argent was flipping the latch at the top of the door into a locked position as he spoke, "Let's try this again," He said, turning to face the boys, "Where is Scott McCall?"

When neither one of them immediately answered, Mr. Argent grabbed Stiles with his hands fisted in the collar of his shirt and slammed the boy back against a metal cabinet along the wall. Stiles winced at the a sharp pain than shot up his spine and looked down at the man in front of him.

"Let me ask you a question, Stiles." Mr. Argent started, "Have you ever seen a rabid dog?"

Stiles swallowed and squirmed against the grip the man had on his shirt, "No.. I could put it on my to-do list if you let me go."

"Well I have!" Chris Argent shouted in the boy's face, "And the only thing I can compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you wanna know what happened?"

"Not really." Stiles answered quickly, unable to hold back a sarcastic remark, "No offense to your story-telling skills."

Mr. Argent ignored his sass, "He tried to kill me." He told the room at large, "And I was forced to put a bullet in his head. The whole while that he lay there, dying, he was still trying to claw his way towards me. Still, trying to kill me. Like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath.. Can you imagine that?" He asked pointedly.

"No." Stiles lied easily, despite the way his mind flashed to Scott pulling at his handcuffed wrist, screaming and growling in rage as he tried to get to Amber and himself. Another sarcastic remark falling from his lips in an attempt to mask his discomfort, "And it sounds like you need to be a little bit more selective-"

Mr. Argent released Stiles' shirt to slam his hands jarringly against the metal cabinet on either side of the boy's body threateningly, "Did Scott try to kill you and Amber on the full moon?" The man yelled, "Did you both have to lock him up?"

Stiles' gaze drifted to Jackson for the first time. The other boy was looking at them with a terrified expression, as if it had never once crossed his mind that Scott had been telling the truth when he'd said becoming a werewolf was dangerous.

"Yeah," Stiles caved quietly as he maintained eye contact with Jackson, "We did. We chained him to a radiator.." His eyes snapped back to Allison's dad sharply, "Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?" He asked venomously.

At that, Mr. Argent finally took a slow step back from him with a disbelieving laugh, "I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but we never did that." Chris said slowly.

"Oh, right," He said sarcastically, "Derek said you guys had a 'code'. I guess no one ever breaks it."

"Never." Mr. Argent defended quickly, looking back at the men behind him.

"What if someone does?" Stiles pressed.

This brought Chris Argent's attention back around to him. He looked at Stiles in suspicion, "Someone like who?"

"Your sister." Stiles told him, anger twisting in the pit of his stomach, making him feel nearly sick as his mind supplied him with the image of Amber on the floor of her kitchen, tears streaming down her beautiful face, covered in dirt and her own blood.

Kate Argent had done that to her.

Kate Argent was a monster.

And with the way that Chris slowly turned his head to look at Stiles, as if the boy had somehow managed to shed light on something that had been in front of him this whole time — something he was only now realizing he'd been so obviously blind to — It seemed as if now, Chris Argent believed that she was a monster too.

As they climbed back out to the leaf-covered forest floor, Derek reluctantly leaned a small amount of his weight onto Amber's shoulder, still feeling weak from seven days of captivity.

"Hey," Derek said quietly, slowing his steps as he gripped her opposite shoulder. He panted heavily and tipped his head to the side to rest over the top of hers for a brief second as he breathed, "Hold on, hold on," He waited until Scott stopped and turned to face them before continuing, "Hold on. Something doesn't feel right."

"What d'you mean?" Amber asked quietly, tightening her fingers around the older boy's back and watching him look out into the darkness around them nervously.

"I don't know.." Derek shook his head in the dark, "It's- It's kinda like it was-"

"No." Scott interrupted quickly, "Don't say 'too easy'. People say 'too easy' and bad things always happen." He looked between Derek and his best friend slowly before speaking again, "What, you think finding you was easy? Getting away from Allison's dad? Pulling Amber four miles through the woods barefoot?"

Amber reached up to hold onto the hand Derek had resting on her shoulder, "None of it's been easy, Derek."

"Fine. You're right." He sighed.

The words had barely slipped past his lips before they heard a quiet whistle of something soaring through the air. Derek jolted backwards a step and released his grip on Amber, stumbling worryingly.

"Derek?" Amber took a single step to check on him and his hand came up to shove her away. She was still regaining her footing as she watched Derek fall to his back on the ground. There was another soft twish of something flying through the air and she watched in panic as an arrow planted itself into Derek's thigh.

"Scott, your eyes!" Derek yelled suddenly, looking back at them.

"Scott!" Amber called out worriedly as she spun around, unsure what exactly was about to happen but knowing that it wouldn't be good.

Another arrow sailed only a few inches from her face and hit the tree behind her with a familiar explosion of light. She flinched back and ran up the hill to search for her best friend in the dark, following the sounds of his pained breathing.

"Scott." She squatted down, pulling at his arms to help him up.

Derek released two sharp, wounded noises behind her but Amber was focussed on pulling Scott's dead weight up onto his feet as he continued to groan and squint his aching eyes. She had only just managed to stand upright and get her friend's arm around her shoulders when Derek came up behind them and gave them both a push to get moving.

"Go!" Derek demanded, "Let's go!"

They moved up toward the burned house and the trek slowly got easier as Scott was able to hold more and more of his own weight with each step. Derek's hand brushed over her backside when he fell to the ground behind them and she turned her head to look back at him worriedly even as she continued another step forward with Scott.

"Go!" Derek yelled sharply when he noticed her hesitation.

She spun around fully to look back for whatever threat was emerging from the treeline while Scott continued to rub frantically at his eyes with the hand he didn't have wrapped around her shoulder. She tightened her arm protectively around her best friend and guided them a step backwards, heart pounding in her chest with fear.

"Allison, I can explain." Scott said suddenly as someone finally stepped through the trees and into the small clearing in front of the house.

"Stop lying." Allison snapped emotionally, tightening her grip on the large archery bow in her hands, "For once. Stop lying."

The look of pure hatred swimming in Allison's eyes was haunting and it had Amber continuing to carry Scott away as the other girl approached them with quick steps.

"Allison-" Amber started, but she was cut off when Scott spoke frantically again.

"I was gonna tell you the truth at formal," Scott promised, "I was gonna tell you everything. Because everything that I said, everything that I did-"

"Was to protect me?" Allison finished mockingly.

"Yes!" Scott responded quickly .

"I don't believe you." Allison told him.

"You don't have to," Amber pleaded weakly, "But what you're doing.. It isn't- Allison, look at yourself! You've lost your freaking mind-"

"God. Enough-" Kate emerged from the treeline and came toward them with quick steps, "Now, shoot him before I have to shoot him myself."

Amber wobbled slightly in her next step as she stared at the woman in fear. Amber's hold around Scott's waist tightened protectively and she felt his own grip on her shoulder tense at the woman's words.

Allison spun to look at her aunt in disbelief, "I thought you said we were just going to catch them?"

"We did that," Kate rolled her eyes, "Now we're gonna kill them."

There was a loud gunshot and Amber flinched, watching in horror as Derek dropped down onto the ground from a bullet to his chest. Kate lowered her weapon again with a smile.

"See? Not that hard." She told her niece easily. After a moment of silence, she tilted her head judgmentally at the girl as she came up to stand beside her with a sigh, "Oh, no. I know that look. That's the 'you're gonna have to do it yourself' look."

The woman turned her attention toward Scott and Amber and raised her gun again. She aimed at Scott, holding the weapon less than a foot away from the boy's face.

"Kate! Kate, what're you doing?" Allison asked nervously, taking a step toward them as she realized the severity of the situation.

Kate shoved her niece to the ground behind her as Scott dropped his arm from around Amber's shoulders. He moved to stand in front of her protectively but Amber dragged him back and refused to let go.

"Don't shoot him." Amber begged, eyes welling with tears.

"Werewolves really aren't good company to keep. If you want a puppy so bad, you should try starting with something a little easier-" Kate looked at Amber with a mocking grin, "Like a golden retriever. Maybe a lab." She turned her gaze to Scott and pouted jokingly, "I love those brown puppy-dog eyes."

"Kate!" Chris Argent's voice called out from the distance as he too emerged from the woods, "I know what you did."

Kate paused, her gun lowering a fraction but still remaining firmly trained on Scott.

"Put the gun down." Chris demanded.

"I did what I was told to do." Kate defended quietly in response to her brother's earlier statement.

Allison's dad shook his head, "No one asked you to murder innocent people. There were children in that house-" He nodded his head toward the burnt ruins of the home beside them, "Ones who were human. Look what you're doing now. You're holding a gun at two sixteen-year old children. No proof that either one of them have spilled any human blood." Chris said desperately, "We go by the code. Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent."

"We hunt those who hunt us?" Amber whispered quietly in translation.

Kate shot her brother an annoyed glare before she turned to focus on Amber and Scott again. Amber's heart stuttered in her chest as she watched the woman's finger twitch imperceptibly over the trigger on the gun.

Chris Argent pulled out his own gun where he stood a few yards away and raised it slowly, the weapon trained on at Kate, "Put the gun down-" He repeated.

When the weapon aimed at Scott didn't lower, there was another loud gunshot. Amber flinched at the echoing sound again as small chunks of bark flew from the tree trunk just behind Kate's shoulder.

"-Before I put you down." Mr. Argent finished threateningly.

Kate slowly lowered the gun and both Scott and Amber immediately took in shaky breaths of relief. They didn't get more than a second to recover before the front door to the Hale house was creaking open ominously. Amber took a cautious step back, bumping into Scott's shoulder as she did so, her eyes glued to the dark doorway.

"Allison. Get back." Mr. Argent ordered his daughter sharply.

Scott finally succeeded in positioning himself in front of his best friend and his arms went out to cage Amber behind himself protectively as they continued to take slow steps back and away from the house.

"What is it?" Amber asked Scott quietly.

"It's the Alpha." He responded without turning around.

A dark figure darted out of the house in a blur and Peter raced around in the treeline, never pausing in one place long enough for any of them to really catch sight of him. They all spun around nervously. Amber eyed dark forest around them with shaking hands as she stood at Scott's back.

Chris Argent's feet were suddenly taken out from underneath him and he slammed down to the ground hard.

Only a few short seconds later, Allison was knocked onto her back as well, dropping her bow into the leaves as she fell.

Amber was reaching a shaking hand out slowly, intending to grip onto the fabric of Scott's shirt, when something rammed into the both of them painfully from the side. Both teens tumbled to the ground and Amber rolled a few feet away with the sheer force of the hit.

When she came to a stop in the dirt and leaves, she scrambled to get up onto her knees. The small rocks and twigs beneath her dug into the bare skin of her legs as she braced herself on her hands and knees, Scott's oversized suit jacket hanging low enough over her hands to protect her palms where they pressed into the ground beneath her.

"Come on!" Kate yelled out tauntingly to the Alpha.

The dark moving figure stopped suddenly behind Kate in his human form and took her wrist in his hand. Kate pulled the trigger on her gun, missing her target and shooting a bullet off into the forest behind him.

Peter glared at the woman angrily and he held her wrist with a presumably tight grip, bashing it with his other hand until there was a sharp snap of bone breaking. When Kate screamed out and dropped the weapon to the ground, Peter grabbed her by the throat in a frighteningly similar way to how he'd held onto Amber earlier that night.

Amber watched from the ground with wide eyes as Peter tossed Kate up onto the porch a few yards away where she landed with a loud thud. He moved in another quick blur of motion, dragging Kate through the dark doorway and into the house with him.

"No!" Allison protested, getting to her feet and running into the house after them.

"Allison, wait-" Amber tried, but the other girl was already through the door.

Scott got to his feet quickly and followed after Allison and Amber watched him go while she pulled herself up, shuffling in her socks as she contemplated her options. She looked nervously between the dark house, Mr. Argent's unmoving body, and the treeline.

After a moment of hesitation, she took off toward the treeline. She wandered around in search of Derek but saw nothing, no bloodied corpse or dying werewolf anywhere to be found, and after a few minutes, her heart settled in relief at the knowledge that he was most likely alive.

"Dad!" Allison called out from behind her, skidding to a stop in the leaves and kneeling down beside her father.

Amber took a few slow steps toward them, heart nervously thumping in her chest with a new distrust for the entire Argent family. Despite that, when she looked down at Mr. Argent laying on the ground in front of his daughter, Amber felt a pang of sympathetic grief.

She dropped to her knees beside Allison slowly, "Is- Is he-"

"He's alive." Allison said quickly, gripping onto her father's hand tightly, "I-I think he hit his head when he went down, but he's alive."

"That- That's good." Amber replied, reaching out after a moment's pause to pat her hand consolingly over Allison's arm. The girl's attention snapped over to Amber all at once with tears in her eyes.

"Amber, I-" Allison choked on a quiet sob, "I'm so sorry."

She patted Allison's arm softly again and gnawed on her lower lip indecisively, knowing that she didn't forgive Allison for all that she'd done, Amber simply nodded.

Suddenly, a window from the house beside them shattered loudly, glass flying through the air as someone was thrown from the house. Both Amber and Allison's attention snapped up and Amber closed her eyes for a brief second in resignation at the sight of Scott scrambling to right himself on his hands and knees as Peter dove outside in his terrifying fully shifted form.

The Alpha charged forward and Amber fearfully watched as he and Scott fought evenly matched for a moment. Peter grabbed a hold of the boy by the collar of his shirt and let out a loud, animalistic growl. Scott reared back and kicked his feet out against The Alpha's dark hairy chest and they both flew a few feet back from one another from the force of his kick. The fully shifted Peter growled once again in outrage and got back to his feet, immediately turning his gaze on Scott.

Headlights suddenly curved up the driveway through the thick covering of trees around the final turn and the car skidded to a stop in the gravel, the doors flying open and the horn honking loudly in a surefire way to gain everyone's attention.

Jackson and Stiles tumbled from the parked Porsche and Amber had only a moment to panic about their presence at the scene of the danger before Stiles was pitching his arm forward and throwing a glass bottle across the clearing.

The bottle flew through the air and straight into Peter's outstretched hand, the liquid-filled container identical to the Molotov cocktails Lydia had prepared back at the school in the chemistry classroom. The animalistic version of the werewolf growled angrily in Stiles' direction as he caught the container and examined it.

"Oh, damn.." Stiles exclaimed quietly as the Alpha growled again.

"Allison!" Scott yelled toward the two girls.

Amber and Allison's attention both snapped to the boy who was still on his hands and knees on the ground. Scott reached forward toward Allison's abandoned bow and threw it in their direction. Allison grabbed it quickly while Amber snatched an arrow from the quiver laying beside Mr. Argent's unconscious body, handing it over to the other girl just as she righted the bow in her hands to take aim.

When Amber looked back up, the Alpha was turning to face the two girls and pitching his own arm back to throw the container in his hands in their direction.

Allison wasted no time in shooting an arrow toward the Alpha before he got the chance to throw the liquid fire-bomb in his clawed hand. The well-aimed arrow hit it's target dead center, shattering the glass beaker in Peter's hand in a small fiery explosion.

He roared angrily as his left arm was overtaken with flames, shaking his arm in an attempt to get rid of the roaring fire burning over his skin.

A second batch of chemicals shattered over the werewolf's body when Jackson threw a second flask at the Alpha's chest. Peter's wolfed-out form roared in both agony and fury as the flames overtook his whole body, the smell of his burning flesh and fur spreading through the air. Amber couldn't hold back a gag at the nauseating scent when it reached her nose. After a few seconds of his outraged growls, the Alpha turned his attention back toward the two girls who had taken some part in the pain he was now experiencing. Despite the flames on his skin, Peter took a menacing step toward where Allison and Amber were still knelt on the ground, frozen in fear.

Upon the Alpha's first step in their direction, Scott yelled in outrage and ran at the burning wolf, kicking the other werewolf hard and sending Peter stumbling back several steps before dropping to his knees as the flames flickered out slowly.

No longer able to hold his shift, Peter sagged as he reverted to his human form, his pale skin covered head to toe in a combination of spots that were marred red and others that had been singed so deeply that they'd blackened with char, his human flesh so badly burned in some places that there was no skin left at all.

Amber didn't want to feel anything for him, but she couldn't help the microscopic pang of pity she felt when she realized he'd had to experience the feeling of burning alive twice. He was dark, and twisted, and definitely insane, but she wasn't sure that anyone deserved such a painful death even once.

They all continued to watch as Peter made a small noise of pain and collapsed onto his back on the ground.

Allison tugged Amber's arm as she rose to stand, pulling the girl up to her feet and when Allison took a small step to approach Scott, Amber's own gaze snapped to the place where Stiles was still standing in front of the car, his wide eyes glued to Peter's unmoving body.

Not even fully aware of the movement of her socked feet against the ground, Amber took off in a run. She closed the couple hundred feet separating her from Stiles and her body smacked into his with enough force that he was sent stumbling back half a step. Her arms wrapped around Stiles' neck and she lifted up on her toes as she gripped onto him desperately. His hands slipped beneath Scott's jacket to return the embrace, his arms curling tightly around her back.

"You were supposed to stay with Lydia." He scolded softly into her hair.

"I know," She said quietly, reaching up to the hold the back of his head in her hair as her body trembled with excess adrenaline, "'M sorry. But I couldn't let Scott-"

"I know." Stiles interrupted softly.

She loosened her grip just enough that she could lean back in the circle of his arms to look at him, her eyes flicking over his face slowly. Before she could make a move to kiss him, Stiles was leaning in to cover her mouth with his in a gentle press of lips.

"Wait!"

Amber took a startled step back at the sound of Scott's panicked shout, pulling out of Stiles' embrace and lacing her fingers with his in a tight grip as they both turned to watch Scott run across the clearing in front of the house.

Derek was standing over Peter's unmoving body and turned his head a fraction at Scott's voice before he lowered into a squat and returned his gaze down at his uncle.

"You said the cure comes from the one that bit you," Scott said frantically, reaching an arm out toward the other werewolf, "Derek, if you do this, I'm dead." He pleaded, "Her father, her family- What am I supposed to do?"

There was a long beat of silence wherein Derek's attention was focused on the burned werewolf beneath him. Amber's fingers tightened around Stiles' hand nervously while Derek raised an arm over his head in preparation.

"Wait!" Scott yelled again, "No, no! Don't-!"

But Derek's clawed hand swiped down aggressively, slashing Peter's throat as Amber flinched with a gasp. Watching Derek kill someone left a queasy feeling in her gut and her hands shook as she watched him slowly rise to stand again, blood dripping from his clawed fingers. Her haunted gaze was pulled away from the the thick red drops falling from Derek's nails when Stiles reached out to cradle the back of her head and guided her face gently into the crook of his neck.

Her fingers tightened where she was still gripping Stiles' hand and she let out a shaky breath against the collar of his dress shirt when she heard Derek's voice behind them.

"I'm the Alpha now."

[magicmists]

thomas x reader head cannon

mini head cannon

This boy would be so head over heels for you it's nuts

He would stumble and get all nervous around you

Eventually you kissed him and he was so awkward and cute

[star--stilinski]

I would absolutely LOVE to request a buzzcut stiles smut omg😭

If you are comfortable and if this is not too much detail could you write something about Stiles being insecure of his buzzcut thinking it makes him unattractive but when he tells his other bsf/reader she’s like flabbergasted and tells him how hot it makes him and it makes him all cocky. Then he’d probably like ask her is she’s serious and when she says yes finally act on his feelings. Maybe soft smut? If that is okay

HALLELUIAH YES GAWDDDD i love this sm omg

☆

stiles frowns at his reflection. scott is ranting in the school bathroom again, but it's all stuff stiles has already heard before and he's distracted anyway. he runs an absent hand over his short hair before following a still-rambling scott out of the bathroom and down the hall.

it's been getting on his nerves lately, how slow his hair is growing. he thought it was pretty cool at first, until he was slapped in the face with the reality of his best friend getting girls left and right and leaving stiles completely dry. not that it's scott's fault- he's just easy to get jealous of with this kind of thing.

"dude, are you even listening?" scott abruptly stops and whirls on stiles. "you've been dead silent for, like, three minutes."

"yeah, i heard you. but it's a little hard to care about your girlfriend strife when she actively wants to sleep with you. speaking of,"

allison is leaning against a locker, watching scott with a dreamy look. she waves and smiles softly, leaving scott to return the smile-wave combo with a lot less charisma.

"listen," stiles sighs, trying to keep the bite of envy out of his tone, "you probably just need to talk to her. girls love confidence. just, i dunno," he waves wildly with his hands. "do that."

scott squints at him. "i think that might be the worst advice you've ever given me."

"worse than killing derek?"

"possibly. now, i'm gonna go-" scott throws a look towards allison and swallows thickly, "figure that out. i'll see you."

stiles calls after him; "don't be an idiot! remember i'm living vicariously through you right now!"

once scott and allison are far enough down the hall, he rubs a hand over his hair again and huffs. stupid, stupid freshman stiles and his bad hair decisions.

"you're gonna rub right through your skull."

"GAH!" stiles jumps back from you, snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. you laugh at him behind your hand, looking up through your pretty lashes. "jesus, your footsteps are like feathers. i need to put a bell on you."

that makes you frown, shoulder-checking him as you start walking. "you're just not used to anything other than two-left-feet scott mccall. i have perfectly regular footsteps."

he jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the school parking lot, eyeing your choice of shorts. your legs being out is a big plus for his racing mind today.

"hey, you busy today? scott ditched me to go play loverbirds and i don't want to do my homework." he hums, pushing one of the heavy doors open and letting you through.

"hmm, that depends, do you have food at your house?"

"not even a little," he smirks at the almost-yes as you both trot through the empty lot towards his jeep. "that's why we're getting drive thru."

"who's paying?"

"who do you think?"

you cheer excitedly as he unlocks the jeep.

☆

you're sat criss-cross on stiles' bed as he paces, tracking his movement with your eyes. he's on a tangent about scott, actually, and how his decision-making skills are subpar. you're listening intently with a tilted head, watching his hands flex as he talks, and the way his biceps bulge without his flannel on, and how his jawline is so sharp-

"and girls are confusing, y'know? sorry, no offense, it's just-" this catches your attention, making your eyes flit up to his as they dart around the room. "it's just that you're all so... so... what do you guys even want? can't be money, because scott has a girlfriend. can't be personality, because jackson has a girlfriend. definitely can't be looks, because i'm pretty sure greenburg is going out with abby right now."

he sighs and turns on you, taking a dangerous step closer to the bed. his brow is upturned, eyes pleading, lips parted.

"it's this stupid buzzcut, isn't it?"

you blink, just once, before squinting. "what?"

"my hair, it's so-" he pushes a frustrated hand through it, and his jaw clenches. "so not hot."

and when he says it, with his narrowed eyes all sharp and his pink lips pressed together, you think for a moment he must be joking. "...what?"

he turns his glare onto you. "you know what i mean, okay? it's unattractive, it must be. i mean, i go completely unnoticed-"

"wait, you actually mean to tell me you think your buzzcut is ugly?"

stiles huffs, clearly not liking the bluntness of his feelings being laid out. "that it makes me ugly, yeah."

this makes you pause. maybe you're a minority, but when stiles drives his jeep and starts talking fast about something nerdy, you imagine climbing into his lap and making him crash the car. one time you two were arguing while he was in his lacrosse uniform and you genuinely wanted to offer to suck his dick. and even right now, with his too-tight t-shirt and his frustrated face, you want to ask him to take his frustration out on you... in- in a hot way. you may have gone a little far with that one-

"would you stop looking at me like that?" he snips, eyes darting over your whole face and then your body like he's looking for the off switch. you frown up at where he stands.

"like what? i'm just in disbelief."

he rolls his eyes. "like you're gonna tackle me. it's weird, after what i just told you."

"well, maybe i do want to tackle you." oh shit, that was supposed to stay in your head! quick, make it look like it was on purpose! "the buzzcut doesn't make you ugly."

his face screws up in confusion. "well, then, what does it make me?"

"hot."

you both kinda falter, like there's nowhere to go from here. his mouth gapes open and you watch his cheeks grow pinker, much similar to your own. and since you've already dug the hole and he doesn't seem too bothered, you make it an inch or two deeper.

"you're pretty hot, stiles. i mean, you hang around scott and stay in your room, so it's not like you're around enough girls for them to tell you. and you never ask me, so... that's probably why you're unaware."

he gapes at you, a hand going to his hair like it has a whole new purpose to him. "i didn't know asking you was an option...."

"apparently it is." you shrug. your oversized t-shirt and shorts suddenly seem not pretty enough for where this conversation seems to be going, but it's too late to linger on that thought now. anyway, his eyes are on you like sniper lasers... or something... and he takes another step closer to you.

"okay, um... i'm asking you."

you raise your eyebrows. what, he just wants you to lament on how sexy he is? you're not that easy, he's probably going to use that information to chase the skirts of some long, skinny-legged girl at school. besides, there's not even that much to-

"please." he hums.

you swallow, turning your face away from him. "okay, well, you've got the whole secretly smart guy thing going on. and your nose is really nice. mix that with the way your eyes are...-"

"my eyes are what?"

you glance up to glare at his impatience. he tilts his head at you, and you swear you can see a mischievous glint in those stupid, stupid (aggravatingly sexy) eyes. bastard.

"they're, um, provocative. when you're frustrated. or focused." you turn your eyes awayyyy from his reaction, for your own safety. "and your jaw is nice, so. plus your hands-"

"my hands?"

"are you gonna keep interrupting me? 'cause i'll stop." you gripe up at him, but looking back up was a big mistake. his cheeks are tinted pink but his mouth is quirked up into a knowing little smirk, like your embarrassment is suddenly clay for him to play with. yeah, no. you are not getting stuck in this position with stiles. "okay, yeah, that's enough."

"no, nonononono wait." he crosses the rest of the distance to crouch in front of the bed, looking up at you. "i'm sorry. i'm just not used to this. or you, like this." his hand rests atop your knee. "i won't even react. keep going, just a bit?"

you pout and look at his hand as his thumb rubs back and forth on your bare skin. it's warm and relaxing and makes your whole body burn hot when his hand inches up your thigh just barely. you look back up at him, but his face is earnest, promising. you sigh.

"your buzzcut makes you look good."

his eyebrows inch up his forehead.

"really good."

stiles grins.

☆

you're not really sure if you left stiles' house or escaped it, after that. all you know is that last night did some serious damage to your ego... and some serious maintenance to his. as you leave school, your mind replays the series of events and the blush that has been plaguing your cheeks and making you overheat returns.

dammit! you had to avoid stiles all day because of this stupid embarrassment. which proved difficult, since you guys had plenty of classes together and ate lunch with each other every day since forever. you slap your cheeks as you shoulder your way past the school doors and into the parking lot, glancing over at the field where lacrosse practice is in full swing.

your eyes catch on something odd, and coach's voice fades into the background when the image registers in your mind. stiles is leaning on the fence with his helmet in hand, sweat making his skin glow and a cocky look on his face. he's leaned over the fence, chatting up three soccer girls, who all seem very interested in whatever he's saying.

this, unfortunately, does not make you happy. but alas, what are you going to do? pull him away by the ear and chastise him for... talking to girls? you just wish you hadn't said anything about his stupid buzzcut (which looks unrealistically good with his lacrosse uniform).

all three of the girls throw their heads back laughing. and it's not even, like, pretty girl flirtatious laughter. it's loud, and one of the girls slaps her friend's arm. you want to rip the arm off.

but you keep walking instead, because you decided the bus was too much and walking home was the best option. better than standing in the parking lot, staring like a creep as your best friend (who you want to messy-make-out with) finally gets girls (who you want dead).

this is going to be a pathetic walk home.

you barely get to the end of the parking lot when you hear stiles shout your name as loud as he can.

part of you wants to stomp your feet and cry, or ignore him (as if the echo didn't reverberate off of the school building), or flip him off. like a middle schooler. because right now, you don't want to deal with the humiliation of telling stiles (through mumbles and attitude) how hot he is and how badly you want him to fuck you into his mattress, only for him to use you as matchmaker for hotter, more experienced girls.

but you're not a child, and he's still your best friend. plus, his lacrosse uniform.... yum.

jesus christ, you need a drink. there is no way that thought just consciously happened.

you drag your feet walking back, and the soccer girls skip off with their ponytails swinging. stiles is smiling all big and bright when you finally reach him. you are not smiling at all. "you needed me?"

"yeah, i wanted to know if you were coming over tonight." he stands taller than you, and his buzzcut looks so touchable right now, you want to bend him down to your level and run your fingers through it. you blink up at him as you stare, and the silence stretches. his hand comes up to the back of his neck. "uhh, just 'cause i could help you with the homework we skipped yesterday-" he interrupts himself. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. for both. the homework and the question." you press your thumb into your palm and turn towards the lacrosse field, away from his searching eyes and worried lips. "see you tomorrow, yeah?"

you start to back away from him when he steps forward, the fence catching him from coming closer to you. "well i just- you should come over. i want you to."

"stiles, i can't wait for lacrosse practice to end-"

"i'll skip. they don't even need me." he clenches his jaw when you look back at him. there's a determination in his eyes you've never seen directed at you, and it makes your stomach flip. you've never fell victim to being his prey before, when he wants something so he gets it. the feeling is unrivaled. his lips part. "please."

you can feel your cheeks flush. why does that always have to work on you?

"okay, alright, no need to beg." you nod your head to his jeep, on the far side of the parking lot. "let's go."

he does a subtle fist pump that he doesn't think you see, and hops the fence to follow you, leaving literally everything in the locker room except his car keys. "how was your day?"

you glance up at him, but only for a second when you see how he's staring. all curious and excited, probably from the attention he was getting from those soccer girls. your lips press together in distaste before you even realize.

"it was fine." you shrug, watching as he gets ahead of you to open the passenger door. "got an A on mrs. martin's project."

stiles hums in approval, which may or may not make your lower stomach fizz with butterflies. then he closes your door and makes the short jog to his side, clambering inside. "good job. you hungry?"

you shake your head as he pulls out of the parking lot, doing your best to ignore the vein in his neck when he looks over his shoulder as he backs out, hand resting on your seat. yeah, you totally don't notice that. "no thanks, i'm okay."

"are you sure? i didn't see you at lunch. or english. or-"

"i wasn't feeling well today."

this shuts him up, but not in a good way. you feel his eyes on you, even as he drives, and it makes you squirm a bit. but he doesn't comment on your icy tone, and you drive the rest of the way in silence.

☆

in fact, you're silent all the way up to his room, where you toss your bag in the corner and toe your shoes off. stiles huffs out a sigh and scrubs over his buzzcut self-consciously, tracking you with his eyes as you trail aimlessly around his room and admire the things on his walls.

he's been dying to ask it. he has to. the girls on the soccer team said... he squeezes his eyes shut while you're turned away, repeating what they said to him in his head for nth time. just be honest, and confident. that's what you'd want.

stiles takes bold strides across the room right up to you. he gives you enough room to turn around and face him, but not much more.

"hey."

you scrunch your face up just a bit in confusion. "...hi?"

he clears his throat, his jaw flexing on it's own accord. "the...- okay, when you said my buzzcut makes me look really good-"

"stiles," you scoff and push past him, walking to the middle of his room as a means of escape. "i'm not doing this with you."

"no, wait, doing what?" he scurries around you to face you again, holding you lightly by the shoulders. "waitwaitwait. you gotta let me-"

"no. stop." you're embarrassed, he can tell now. the way you turn your face away and narrow your brow, he never knew he'd be able to read you so well. but he's doing it now, and he's not happy with what he's seeing.

"no, you stop. let me ask you what i want to ask, alright?" he huffs through his nose, and watches as you seem to come to attention. it gives him an odd thrill to see you react so readily when he corrects you. "are you gonna listen to me?"

you glare up at him for a second too long before nodding slowly. he nods too, and in a impatient, annoyed tone, he grumbles: "good."

and then stiles watches your eyes flicker as you fluster much more than he expected. he didn't think much of the words when he was saying them, but here you both are, weirdly into it. he blinks hard to clear his head.

"when you said my buzzcut makes me look 'really good'," he repeats, "did you mean really good to you or to other people?"

he feels you shift your weight by the movement of your shoulders. looking away, you hum, "i don't understand why this is important to you."

stiles narrows his eyes. "yes you do. you know you're into me and you just wont say it."

you snap your eyes to his and take a challenging step forward. "who said i'm into you? just because i said you're good looking doesn't mean you get to use me as some matchmaking machine. i won't inflate your ego just so you can hook up with popular girls, stiles. you can't-"

"i'm not asking so you can inflate my ego." stiles takes a step towards you, making you step back. "i'm asking because i want to know if you were serious." another step. "because i want you to think that about me." another step, and your back hits the wall.

you watch, doe eyed, as stiles brings a hand up to push some of your hair away from your face. his eyes meet yours, but dip down when your lips part. he swallows.

"so," stiles hums, towering over you. "were you being serious?"

stiles watches in awe as your pretty mouth forms around his new favorite word.

"yes."

he half expects himself to tear both of your clothes off and go wild. but his body moves on its own accord; taking your face gently in his hands, kissing you like you're made of glass. when you reciprocate eagerly, he feels his pants start to strain. fuck. seriously? can you please pretend you've had at least some action before?

he can't believe he has to talk his dick down when he's kissing you.

pressing you back up against his bedroom wall, he feels goosebumps rise as your nails rake lightly over his buzz, and it makes him hum. stiles gently removes one hand from the curve of your jaw and slides it onto your hip instead. he loves your hips. he loves them even more when his hands are on them, apparently, because the feeling of it is otherworldly.

what's even better, though, is when your tongue collides with his and you let out a small noise. it's high-pitched and whiney, and it almost makes him finish prematurely. he licks eagerly into your mouth to try and draw it out of you again, but you seem to silence yourself from embarrassment. this does not fly with stiles. his knee draws forward and splits your thighs apart, resting in between them, and he moves down to kiss at your neck. he'll make you whine again, he's sure of it.

"wait," you breathe out. he almost doesn't catch it, too busy with the way your skin feel on his lips and how he has you up against his wall, breathless and pliant. but he pulls back (albeit reluctantly) and meets your dazed look with one of his own.

"what? is this okay? do you wanna stop?" he might actually die on the spot if you want to stop. but he'd do it, for you. his hand massages your hip where he's got you gently pinned, and he watches as it visibly makes you sway (swoon, but you'd never admit that).

"no, no. but, your dad-"

"he's out."

"he could get home anytime."

"we can be quick. we don't have to do anything more than this right now."

"stiles," you're laughing at him. it's airy, and mostly just a teasing smile, but you're still laughing at him. "are you just saying that to get me in your bed? i mean..."

your thigh, which is in between his because of his being in between yours, slides up and presses lightly against his hard-on. his jaw goes slack as the unexpected pressure washes pleasure all over his nerves, and his shoulders bend over for a moment as his hips react on their own. he stops himself, thoroughly embarrassed, and glares at you. you giggle behind your hand, raising an eyebrow. "how're you gonna say you don't want anything below the collar with that going on?"

he pushes your thigh away, shaking his head. "i never said i didn't want anything more, i said we don't have to do anything more. plus, you're the one making the noises and touching me and... so, if anything, this isn't even my fault." stiles gestures vaguely to his dick.

"i'm flattered." you deadpan, before your hand trails from his chest to his stomach. he watches in awe, still half disbelieving that he got you here. you hook your fingers into his waistband and look up at him. "promise your dad wont walk in on us?"

"can you not talk about my dad while turning me on?" he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "swear on my life, you have nothing to worry about."

you nod and lean back against the wall, tugging him by his pants to meet you there. he follows suit, lining his body against yours as he kisses you, hands on your hips with yours running through his buzz. he captures your lower lip in his teeth and gently as he can, and you make another short, high-pitched noise again. his dick twitches in his pants.

"you wanna, um," you suck in a breath as he kisses your neck, "move to the bed?"

"yes," he sighs, and immediately pulls your hips forward and directs you to his bed. when you drop onto it and scoot back, stiles hesitates. your hair is a bit messy, lips are full, and your eyes have a glint in them he's never seen before. he's assaulted with the thought of you being his wife and having his kids and growing old and dying together, and then he blinks it away. jesus christ, you're a powerful woman.

he wants to do anything to make you look like this all the time. needy, pretty, all your insecurities and doubts kissed right off of your lips, even if it's just for a bit. is this what being horny is going to be like for him now? is he gonna be a sap when you want to fuck?

stiles crawls over you slowly, laying you back against his pillows. you're excited and it shows, and you're both smiling when he kisses you this time.

☆

he's a mess for days after, head full of the faces you make when he touches you just right, the noises coming from your mouth when you finish. the feeling of skin on skin, the picture perfect look of you wearing his shirt after. it takes scott about two and a half seconds to scrunch up his nose and make a disgusted face at stiles when he starts thinking it. your beauty is just seeping out of him, like he soaked you up and now every werewolf in a one hundred mile radius can smell the lovesick puppy on him.

you want to go on dates, too. real ones, all the time, and you think he's hot and cute and sometimes pretty, which is confusing to him but he likes it anyway. and he wants to save up his money so he can take you to a fancy restaurant. and he is so whipped.

which he's fine with. as long as it's for you. honestly, he's fine with almost anything, as long as it's for you.

☆

i didn't write smut and i apologize but my writing process is to blackout while my fingers fly across my keyboard like i'm a hacker spy until i come to and there's a story on the screen. so. smut didn't happen naturally so it ain't gonna happen at all, i guess. i dunno. ask writing star, not editing star. sorry i've been so absent, holidays is super busy with extended family and such. wish me luck. xoxo!!!

☆

BONUS!! stiles asks some poor soccer girls for help before you went to his house after lacrosse practice. the advice is... really somethin'.

"hey, um, lily?" he had to guess the name of the girl jogging past, but he got it right. she stopped and approached him skeptically, glancing at her two friends in front of her.

"yeah?" she threaded her fingers through the fence as he strided the rest of the distance to her. her two friends had begun making their way over as well. she had to squint past the sun as she stared at him. "what's up?"

"hi, hey, we have bio together. fourth period? i've sat behind you all sememster?"

her face showed no recognition.

"...anyway, i have a question. actually, i can ask all three of you. since you're, um, girls."

her two friends had approached at that point, and looked equally as put off by stiles as lily did. he cleared his throat and started on his ramble:

"so, let's say i'm best friends with this girl, and i like her. like, a lot. and she's kinda totally way out of my leauge, but we never talk about it because she doesn't see things like that anyway. and one day i get on a rant about girls and how confusing they are because, y'know," he gestured to his face like it was a tell of itself, "and she says that my biggest insecurity- err, physically- is actually really hot. and she says my hands are sexy. and my eyes are seductive. and she's like, kinda blushing a lot? but she blushes anyway about stuff around me so it doesn't really-"

"she likes you." one of lily's friends piped up behind her. "if that's what you're asking."

"are you sure? i'm not her type, plus-"

"dude," sighed the other one. the three girls shared a look, making stiles gulp. "girls don't call guys' hands sexy unless they're dying to have them in their mouth."

"mazie!" lily whirled around to slap her friend's shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to censor her. when she turned back to stiles, it was apologetically. "sorry, but she's got a point."

he slumped onto the fence in relief. "you think so? i want to put my hands in her mouth, if she's asking for that."

"nice." mazie nodded as the other two girls made noises of disgust. ignoring them, mazie continued. "honestly, she probably likes you but thinks you don't like her. especially if you're chatting up three soccer girls, looking like that."

the only girl stiles hadn't gotten the name of nodded solemly, and lily put her hands on her hips, determined. "okay, skinhead. how're you gonna confess?"

stiles smiles awkwardly. "uh, i'll just tell her when she comes over tonight?"

lily barked out a laugh, and her two friends followed suit. it was loud, like three crows making fun of him while they toss their heads back. it ended abruptly, too, and lily glared daggers at him in the silence. "no, idiot."

stiles whimpered a little "oh."

"girls love confidence." the unnamed girl declared, tilting her head. "when i flirt with girls i always make them like, say how hot i am. always gets them going."

"god," lily scrunched her nose, "are you both ovulating? we do not need to know all of that."

"so... what should i do?" stiles blinked at them, and they refocused their attention on him.

"be confident. be honest. that's always a rare, and hot, trait in a guy." lily said, before her eyes roved over him analytically. "anyway, you're attractive. it'll be fine."

"he's attractive?" the unnamed girl said, making all three of them laugh again. lily slapped her arm, and stiles let himself get distracted as his eye caught on someone walking across the parking lot.

oh, it's you.

his body feels a bit warmer, buzzing with nervous energy, as he shouts your name.

☆

[stilessflannel]

it was only supposed to be kissing.

not that stiles was complaining - in fact, almost everyone knew how completely smitten he was with you. obviously, you were clueless of it, completely mis-interpreting stiles’ flirting for simple teasing as you two were the best of friends and simply not a match. but the boy couldn’t help it.

you were too perfect, a characteristic stiles normally folded to. you radiated a beautiful aura that made it seem as though there was nothing about you that anyone could possibly dislike.

or maybe it was simply your beauty was what drew stiles towards you. but he wasn’t the only one who seemed captivated with you.

he would notice it, guys giving you lingering looks that would piss stiles off at first - he was just being protective, of course you’re his precious friend so it would be automatic for him to feel protective, but he would notice how he wasn’t as seriously triggered, his jaw wouldn’t clench, when lydia received this attention. that was another special quality about you, you had this power over stiles that he wasn’t aware of before.

you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

so when you asked stiles to teach you how to kiss, he immediately replied yes without any hesitation. at first, it was awkward, as you had appeared peculiarly jumpy, and stiles was concerned because you had been quiet and had barley responded to him. when the words escaped your lips, all of his thoughts left his mind and his response came quickly and without consideration.

“could you, like - well, teach me how to kiss?” you asked sheepishly, looking adorably embarrassed. “properly?”

“yeah, sure love”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨﹒ ✦﹒୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

stiles learnt two things when his lips touched yours:

1. your lips were the sweetest fucking thing he had ever tasted. at first you were reluctant, even shy, but stiles taught you how to wrap your arms around his neck, pull him closer and kiss him. the way your soft lips caressed his drove him insane. he showed you how to do it by licking your bottom lip gently, which made your lips part and allowed him to further explore your mouth, nearly groaning at the taste of you until he forced himself to stop before he could get ahead of himself.

you’re here to teach her how to kiss, not make out with her, you idiot

2. stiles couldn’t help but think about the fact that you just asked him to teach you how to kiss expertly so you could kiss other guys, and for some reason that thought made him want to explode. the idea that you were going to kiss another guy made him feel a rush of rage. the only thing that ever made him feel jealous was the idea of another guy touching you, kissing you like he was doing now, or worse fucking your pretty self.

you drew away from the kiss, appearing out of breath, with swollen lips and sparkling eyes - you are so gorgeous, stiles could stare at you for hours.

“what is it? did I do it wrong?” you asked, finding him staring at you dazed.

“no, it’s perfect,” stiles said, and without thinking he added, “you’re perfect.”

your cheeks flushed a light red as you grew flustered, but asked, “so I did good? no problem?”

“there’s one problem,” stiles muttered, drawing you closer to him as he pulled you to sit on his lap, both of your chests brushing against each others, and you were both breathing heavily. “i can’t stop.”

you were quiet for a moment and stiles was ready to scold himself for becoming too attached to your addictive self and couldn’t help himself when you suddenly shifted on his lap, your crotch brushing against his already hard dick in his shorts. he knew you could feel it too, since your eyes gleamed with unexpected need at the pressure on your clit, and he had to restrain himself from groaning.

your body shivered, as you looked up at him through your lashes, making him roll his bottom teeth between his lips. “then don’t stop.” you whispered.

those words were all it took for stiles to snap. he snaked his hands under your skirt and pulled you dangerously close to him, and found a way to cup the supple skin of your ass. you moaned in surprise as he attacked your lips with a hot, rough kiss, and you unconsciously started rocking your hips against his clothed dick. he runs his hands through your hair and slightly tugs on it, causing you to moan more. as he left your lips, he skimmed his teeth against your jaw to your neck, and began pressing his lips to your soft skin.

he was driven wild by the whimper that escaped your luscious lips. as you began to grind firmly against stiles’ clothed dick while tightly grasping his shoulder, stiles could see you were getting frantic. his eyes grew dark as he guided you against his lap with his hands on your hips, grinding you back and forth as he continued to teach you.

stiles murmurs, “come on, pretty girl” and then he trails his hot kisses down your neck and onto your ear, biting on your earlobe and making you mewl with pleasure, “i can feel how soaking wet you are… ride me, come on, let me feel you more”

he could feel you were doing well as his hands guided you as you ground down against his crotch. he continued kissing your neck and sucking on the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, making you moan and giving you the impression it would definitely leave a mark. stiles was happy to think about this, suddenly remembering how this happened in the first place: you asking him to teach you how to kiss. he tightened his hold on you until he felt you whimper against him, riding his clothed hard dick almost desperately - and stiles could feel his anger bubbling at the thought of you doing this with someone else.

“you’re not kissing anyone else after this, you hear me?”

you briefly looked at him, confused, “what?-“

stiles’ eyes darkened with jealously. “tell me i’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”

he could sense the desire coursing throughout you, and he fucking loved it.yYou were grinding against him, and stiles had to restrain himself from tearing your clothes and his just so he could fuck you deep and hard right there and then.

you were close, he could feel it, you were clinging to him tightly, rubbing up on his dick almost like you were bouncing on him. He glanced up at you, your eyes briefly closing in ecstasy, your pretty lips half open and letting out soft whimpers, and your beautiful face transforming into something vibrant.

“yes,” you gasp. “only you, stiles—fuck…only you.”

the corners of his mouth turned up slightly into a pleased grin. “such a good girl. i can’t wait to fuck you.”

you grew flustered but his eyes sparkled in mischief. “teach me that?” but stiles was already pulling you much closer with a hungry look in his eyes.

“i’ll teach you everything, angel.”

repost off my old a03 account

[bamboozledbird]

Written in the Stars // Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Stiles x You (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5k Tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, i love my men nerdy and desperate, all characters are over 19, my vibe is it's like their sophomore or junior year of college Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, unprotected pnv (terrible advice, babes, don't listen to these idiots)

Request: stiles smut plssss!!! anything fluffy??? A/N: request mixed with a lil bit of an old work to ease me into my first smut. still coming across virginities at 27, and that is really something. s/o to the anon who requested it lmao.

Stiles’s childhood bedroom is an assortment of Star Wars paraphernalia, baseball posters, and bundles of wrinkled flannels squeezed to fit within four faded blue walls. There are a few books stacked on top of his desk, coated in a thin layer of dust from the semester away from home, and little plastic stormtroopers stand at attention on his dresser corners. It smells a little musty in his room, a little like damp earth, but you’ve always liked that smell. You especially like how his cologne smells here—like spice, like fallen leaves, like Christmas morning. 

“The curtains are blackout,” Stiles says. He pulls the heavy navy curtains over the window facing the small backyard. The grass is yellowing from the cold of winter, and the air is crisp with the same bitter chill. You shiver and burrow further into the sweatshirt you’d somehow commandeered long before you and Stiles were a we. A few flecks of dust float off the plaid bedding when he sits down on his bed. He looks up at you and grins at the sleeves hanging limply below your fingers, “Flip off the light.” 

You turn off the light and shut the door. It’s dark inside the room now—almost completely black. What little remains of the sun is gone, and now you can only see the glow-in-the-dark stars sticky-tacked to the ceiling. “You must have taken a lot of people up here,” you hum, grinning at him coyly over your shoulder. You’re not quite sure if he can make out the glint in your eyes under the pale fluorescent glow, but you’d like to think he can. Either way, you’re sure he knows.

Stiles laughs easily and scoots himself down to the edge of his bed, “Why?”

“For kissing,” you say, matter-of-factly, but you’re still grinning. You make your way towards him, and your prowl is far less smooth than you’d like it to be—the piles of books and a couple month’s worth of dirty laundry make an already difficult path downright hazardous. You count it as a win when you end up in his lap without tripping on anything, “Doesn’t everyone want to be kissed under the stars?”

His hands, his wonderfully large and veiny hands, find their way to your hips. It’s instinct for him, reflexive at this point, and here in the dark it feels like the only thing he knows. You can feel his grin against your neck, “Do you?” 

You hum, playing coy, and absently curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, thick and curling a bit at the ends. It’s grown out over the last few months. He’s been too busy with studying for finals and working at the library to bother getting it cut. You like it like this, long enough to hold onto, long enough to yank. “I like the stars,” you sigh—so close to his mouth, but not touching—and then you pull back, smiling fondly when you see his mouth is already puckered. “Tell me about ‘em.”

Stiles groans and falls onto his back, pulling you down with him. You end up tucked against his side, shivering as he slides his hand under your sweatshirt to trace a feathery line up and down your back. “That’s like the worst possible genre for innuendo. I can’t woo you while I’m David Attenborough-ing about astrology.”

You smile against his shoulder, and he yelps when you nip at his skin through his thread-bare t-shirt. “You like a challenge.”

He wraps a strand of your hair around his finger and pulls a little, just hard enough to tip into a reprimand. It’s at least half the reason you turn into a brat when he’s this close. “There’s Andromeda,” he hums against the top of your head, pointing towards a small cluster of stars. “Those are supposed to be her legs, and that’s her head, and the ones over there are her arms—fuckin’ uneven, I know. I think that side kinda looks like she’s holding out one of those canes with tennis balls on t—”

You smile and knock your head into his chin lightly, “Wooing, Stiles.”

He tugs on your hair again and swears under his breath when a little whimper tumbles past your lips. “Anyway, she’s next to Perseus—who looks a lot more like Patrick than a demigod. I mean, look at him; his body type is like…something between Dorito and spanakopita.” You laugh, and Stiles squeezes you closer to his side, tangles your legs together, and kisses the tip of your nose like he just can’t help himself. “Story goes, Andromeda's mom royally pissed off Poseidon, so he sent a sea monster to destroy her kingdom—as one does when someone’s talking shit.”

“Naturally,” you hum as you reach for the hand he has cupped around your waist. 

“Naturally,” Stiles agrees, nodding against the crown of your head. You try not to get too distracted by the length of his fingers, bending them and straightening them out one at a time, as he carries on with the story, “So Andromeda’s mom is up there with the titans of bad parents—like right next to Vader and every Disney step-mom ‘cause she fuckin’ ties Andromeda to a rock as a sacrifice for the mo—” He sucks in a shallow breath through his teeth when you start kissing along the row of his knuckles, first little soft brushes that almost tickle and then a few lingering ones that wet his skin. He swears again and ever-so slowly shifts his hips against the thigh tucked between his legs. You take pity on him and rest your entwined hands in the small gap between your breastbone and his ribs. His exhale is warm against your forehead, “Obviously, Perseus swoops in at the last minute, slays the beast, gets the girl, etcetera, etcetera.”

Humming, you tip your chin up against his chest and look at him through your lashes, “What happens during etcetera, etcetera?” 

“I think,” Stiles rolls over so that he’s on top of you, bracing his weight on his forearms, caging you in delightfully close to his broad chest, “something like this.”

You forget about the game for a minute when he starts mouthing at your skin with just the right amount of teeth. His hair, adorably messy and sticking up in little patches from your fingers, tickles the hinge of your jaw. “Didn’t Perseus kill Medusa?” you mumble, head tipping back into the mattress, eyes closed. 

“Uh,” Stiles keeps kissing along your neck, obviously distracted by the hitches in your breath and the soft sighs you let out when he breathes against spit-slick skin, “yeah?”

You can feel the heaviness of his whine against your mouth when you pull away, blinking up at him with big, round eyes—the picture of innocence. A little lamb, an unplucked daisy, a gossamer butterfly wing, entirely unaware of the raging hard-on pressed against your inner thigh. His skin is warm through his shirt, so warm you feel it on your legs when you wrap them around his waist. “While she was sleeping?”

“Uh huh,” Stiles slides a hand up your thigh. The other one is pressed into the mattress, and the muscles in his forearm flex under his full weight. You’re pretty sure he’d agree with anything you say like this.

Unfortunately for the pulsing between your legs, you’ve fallen victim to your own ruse. Your head tilts as you recall all the unsavory details of the Medusa myth, “After she was literally assaulted by his dad?”

Stiles drops his head against your chest and groans, “You’re killing me, baby.”

You grin and curl your fingers in his hair, petting him gently and squeezing your thighs against his hips, “Tell me another one.”

He sighs and rolls over, starfishing his right arm and leg over the edge of the bed with a dramatic flop. “We’ll skip Orion and the seven girls he stalked.”

“Smart choice,” you hum and snuggle into his side. His chest is firm from hours of trying to lift enough to play lacrosse with werewolves, but it still makes for a nice pillow. Stiles’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you swallow back the purr rising in your throat for his sake. He’s been so good for you, after all. You don’t want the torture to be too painful.

“And the swan-fucker,” he adds, scratching lightly at your scalp.

“What?”

Stiles ignores your wide eyes, smirking, and continues playing with your hair, “Altair and Vega. That’s a good one.” In the blanket of darkness and under the strain of yearning, his voice sounds soft and crackly, like one of those singers in the black and white movies, the ones that dance with the microphone. “Starts with a gorgeous, sexy, incredibly charitable goddess falling for a lowly mortal,” his grin is sly as he hikes your thigh over his, squeezing just under your ass, “a lot like us.”

“Boo. Awful.” You pull a face as he drops a flurry of kisses over your cheeks, nose, chin—your laughing mouth, “Disgusting. I’m disgusted.” 

His fingers dip into the waistband of your leggings, tauntingly close to just where you want him, “You don’t feel disgusted.”

Now, that won’t do. You’re just getting started. You trap his hand with your thighs and tap your finger against the slope of his upturned nose, “Finish the story.” 

Stiles whines a little and then sighs, returning the palm of his hand to the little dip above your hip. “Her dad is disgusted that she wants to bring a loser human home, so he turns them into stars on opposite sides of the galaxy.”

Frowning, you squint at the collection of stars he’d pointed to. They don’t look so far apart on his bedroom ceiling. “That’s…depressing.”

“It’s not over yet,” Stiles pulls on your hair and does his best to look annoyed, but the nip to your bottom lip feels far more like a reward than a punishment, “hush.” He waits a minute for you to comply—or, more likely, not comply—and you settle back on his chest and arch your brow, waiting. He arches his brow right back and then keeps going, “One day a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, Altair fills the galaxy with his tears, and every bird in the sky makes a bridge with their wings so that they can spend one more night together.”

The corner of your mouth tugs into a little grin, “That is a good one.” You trace little patterns on his bicep, little swirls and stars, and rest your chin on his shoulder so that you can see his pretty face, “But just for the story. Only one night a year would kill me.”

“Baby,” Stiles clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and shakes his head like he's disappointed, bottom lip jutting out slightly from under his top, “it'd take a helluva lot more than a couple light-years and an immortal father-in-law to keep me from getting to you.” 

It’s such a line, but the dopey grin he gives you while he says it somehow makes it charming. Maybe you’re just a little bit lovesick. Okay, maybe a lot. “You can kiss me n—”

He’s on you before you can finish, but you don’t mind being interrupted when he's slanting his mouth against yours just right and groaning into your sighs with a gravelly pitch that makes your toes curl. “Fuck me,” Stiles sighs. He dips back in before you can quip something bratty, something that would definitely earn you another yank on your hair—later perhaps. 

You straddle his waist, sit back in the cradle of his pelvis, and lace your fingers together on the mattress against the sides of his head. He whimpers. You curse. “Off,” you mutter against his mouth, tugging petulantly on the hem of his t-shirt. Stiles is quick to comply, like always, but the fabric gets stuck around his shoulders. You let him struggle for a minute, just long enough to hear more of those petulant little whines. When you finally help him wrangle his shirt over his head, you’re up close and personal with his mouth. His lips are pretty—swollen, pink, and shiny with salvia and your lip balm—and you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to bite. You toss his shirt somewhere on the floor behind you and lean down, your chest pressed against his. You can feel his heartbeat stutter, like a rabbit in a trap, when you stroke your thumb over his bottom lip. It’s soft and wet against your finger, and you sigh high in your throat, “Pretty.”

His chest warms, and you wish you had more light to admire the flush spreading from his neck to his cheeks. You know it’s pink and pretty too, but you’d enjoy seeing the proof. “Pretty?” Stiles echoes, cocking his head slightly, and slides his hands from your ass to your hips. He continues his path along the sides of your ribcage with the bottom of your sweatshirt bunched between his fingers.

“Pretty,” you nod, sharp and definitive. You sit up a little so that Stiles can pull your hoodie off, and then it’s lost to the dark abyss. Frankly, you aren’t that worried about if you ever see it again. You can always steal another one after you’re done. 

He shakes his head and runs his hands over your torso, your collarbones, your stomach, just under your tits—he can’t see that well in the dim light, so he’s damn well going to see you the only way he can. “Pretty,” Stiles groans, cupping your tits and gently thumbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your cotton bra. It’s simple, white, unadorned by lace or a pattern—and it’s sexier than it has any right to be, he thinks. He’s eager to rip it off.

You shudder through the entire length of your spinal column, through all the nerves attached, and arch into his touch, “Yeah?” 

He coos, and your nipples pebble in response. It’s embarrassing but soon forgotten when Stiles cups your face, big hands encompassing almost the entire length of your jaw, and whispers, “Pretty girl. My pretty baby.” 

It’s even more embarrassing how quickly you feel your underwear dampen under the scrutiny of some simple praise. Now, you’re whining, and he’s letting out a string of guttural, “Fuck,”s as you grind down against the increasingly painful bulge in his jeans. Your nails leave little pink lines along the sculpted v of his pelvis, just deep enough to sting a bit—enough to send his head back towards his shoulders. He sits up a little more so that he can grip your hips, holding them still as he catches his breath, and you’re only a little ashamed of the way you mewl his name in protest. Stiles shuts you up with a kiss and shakes his head, “Can’t come in my pants like I’m 17 again. That’s the worst possible ending to our constellation. Like a 1/10, definitely certified rotten.”

You grin against his throat, and he swallows at the sharp press of your teeth. “Oh, I don’t think that’s the worst ending. Wouldn’t the worst be the one where you don’t come at all?” 

Stiles’s fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you down firmly against his lap, like he’s scared you’ll get up and leave him with a weeping cock and teary eyes. “Baby, don’t even joke about that. That’s a billion times worse than letting a sea monster rip me in half.”

“Guess you can split me in half then,” you shrug a little, and Stiles goes taut under you, fingertips flexing into the small of your back, “unless you want me to tie you to a rock. I’d be into that.”

He growls in your ear, nipping at your jaw and flipping you onto your back. You laugh, a little breathless, as you bounce back on the mattress from the force of it. “Definitely wanna split you in half,” Stiles mutters as he shucks off his pants and kneels at the edge of his bed. He starts peeling back your leggings, taking his time to kiss each sliver of skin revealed to him despite the urgency in his eyes, despite the ache in his white-knuckled grip on the buttery martial of your bottoms. “Gonna wreck you,” Stiles promises as he brushes his lips over your ankle a few times. His words are filthy, but his eyes are honey-sweet and lit with nothing but complete and utter devotion—like you really are a goddess in the sky. You’re already wrecked, probably have been since he kissed you for the first time, entirely ruined for anyone else.

“Did’ya know that Vega is brighter than Altair,” he says, quiet and reverent as he drops your leggings. You blink at him, a bit dumbly, but it’s his own fault for trying to have a conversation while he’s sliding your legs over his shoulders and fiddling with the hem of your underwear. “By, like, 5 places? I think? That’s us too—can’t even look at you sometimes,” he hums, warm against your wet cunt, and hooks his thumbs around your panties. You shudder, and he smiles. You aren’t quite sure if he’s talking to you or to the glistening flesh he reveals when he yanks the baby pink cotton to the side. Either way, you understand his dilemma. It’s torture to watch him sometimes. You have to close your eyes when the pink tip of his tongue darts out, wetting his lip, tasting the air. 

There’s a sigh. So soft. Really more of an exhale, and you aren’t sure where it came from. It could’ve been you, or him, or the stars. “You talk a lot,” this time you know the sigh is coming from you. 

Stiles smirks a little and slips his thumb inside your panties, swiping through your slick folds like he’s fingerpainting, “Is that a complaint?”

Your hips stutter, and his other hand is quick to clamp down on your skin, stopping any attempts to skitter away from his light touch. “I love it when you talk,” you hum, leaning up onto your elbows so that you can watch him work. He grins up at you, almost shy, and presses down against your clit. A wet gasp bursts through swollen lips as your back arches, and Stiles isn’t so shy when he bends down to drop a gentle kiss over his thumb. “But I, uh,” you brush your fingers through the dark hair flopping over his forehead and squeeze your eyes shut when his kisses become kitten licks, “I also love it when you use your mo—” His finger (his long, gifted finger) slides into your cunt with an embarrassing squelch, and his lips wrap around your clit as he sucks. “That,” you whine, back arching a little until Stiles spreads his fingers over your stomach and presses down, “I also love it when you do that.” 

His laugh vibrates deliciously against all the places he’s trying to devour, and you think it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go—being eaten alive by your gorgeous boyfriend. He pulls back to slip another finger in your pussy, spreading them just enough to burn in the best way, and then he’s prodding at the spot inside you that sends a jolt up your spine—makes your fingers wind in the bedspread, pull on his hair, fly to your mouth when you start to cry a little. It didn’t used to be like this. Sex. Getting fingered, fucked, even eaten out—it never felt like this before him. It’s…overwhelming, sometimes. Most of the time, actually. You keep waiting to get used to it, for the newness, the discovery of it all, to wear off. Hasn’t happened yet. You don’t think it ever will. Certainly not tonight. 

“Good?” Stiles licks his lips, at the glistening corners of his mouth, and you toss your head back—overwhelmed. “Good,” he concludes, and he’s not even smug about it. More like he’s making a note in one of his case files, something to look back on later when he needs it. He’s quick about getting what little remains of your clothes off, and when he crawls on top of you, you’re immensely grateful for it. Skin on skin, nothing quite like it. Quick romps in the jeep, up against alley walls, the sink of the occasional bar bathroom—all fun, but not nearly as satisfying as being completely pressed against his naked body, completely caged in by his large frame. Sappy, maybe, but it feels dirty when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. When he bumps against your clit, you mewl and dig your nails into his back. He sucks in sharply and buries his face in the crook of your neck, “There’s a condom in th—”

“Forget it,” you whimper, carding your fingers through his hair. It’s a little sweaty where it meets his neck, and it’s so soft, and thick, and perfect, and—he’s stopped breathing against your neck. 

He groans from a place deep in his gut, deeper actually, and his arms shake, “Are you su—”

“Yes,” you nod rapidly and wrap your legs around him, arms too, and your fingers join in on the clinging when they twist in his hair. “Absolutely. 1000%. Please don’t make me say please.”

He lets out a little laugh that stirs the hair framing your face, and he traces your cheekbone, barely touching your skin. Your head swims with the look in his eyes: amber, warmth, and worship, “But you’re just so pretty when you beg.” Not that you’ve ever had to for long. Stiles gives you anything you want if you ask him the right way. If you look at him with big, wet eyes, if you jut out your lower lip just so—wet as well, the little lick of your tongue is part of it; that took him months to figure out—he crumbles. He’s said many times that better men than he have fallen victim to far less beautiful schemes. 

Stiles kisses the pout off your lips and nudges the tip of his nose over yours, grinning like a drunken idiot, “Told’ya, baby. Not a light-year, definitely not a little latex.” His grin slides into a little ‘o’ when you slither your hand between your bodies and grip his cock, sliding the first inch into your cunt, impatient. “F-fuck—fuck-ing hell,” he grunts and takes over for you, squeezing your hip until it starts to hurt a little. You’d say something, but then he’d stop—and you like the way it aches. You like knowing there will be a bruise. He’ll fret over it later, kiss each mottled spot better a million times, and you like that too. You like being taken care of, almost as much as he likes taking care of you. 

When he bottoms out, when his pelvic bone ruts up against you, a long, drawn out whimper spills through your pout. “Yeah? Feels good, baby?” Stiles watches your face closely, brushes away the hair sticking to your forehead, and drops a few kisses on your shut eyelids. You nod, and nod, and nod, until he stops you with another kiss to your lips. He kisses you slowly, presses his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you sigh. The kiss quickly becomes wet and filthy, and you’d be embarrassed by the sound of your tongues sliding together if you could actually hear it. At the moment, all you can hear is his cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy—and that’s definitely sending a dizzying heat up your neck. You don’t worry about it for long when his hips shift and he starts hitting that spot inside you again. After that, neither of you can hear anything over your squealing. Stiles kisses away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and licks his lips, chasing the taste. “Right there, huh?” You babble an incoherent answer, and he strokes your hair and noses at your cheek, “Yeah, right there. I know. It’s okay.” 

Stiles slides his hands under your back and sits up, taking you with him. The new angle is impossibly deep, and you bite down on his shoulder and wind your arms around his neck to keep yourself there. With him. In the moment. “It’s okay, baby. I got you, promise,” he squeezes your hips, and despite his reassurances and the strength of his grip, you know he’s falling apart too. He’s close. You can feel it. His hips stutter a little, change direction, lose their dedicated pace—and it’s perfect because you’re right there with him. It’s been building for a while, probably since he led you by hand to his room, maybe even before that when he smirked at you behind his cup of tequila and (mostly) pineapple juice. 

You cry a little and bite down on your bottom lip, hard. Stiles kisses the sting away, and your eyes screw shut as you start babbling again, “I’m—”

He kisses you again and lifts his hands from your hips to cup your face, thumbing along your bottom lip when he pulls back—not far, just enough to look at your face, shiny with sweat and tears. “I know,” he stills for a moment, pausing the movement of his hips so that he can just feel you pulsing around him for a moment, “me too.” You aren’t sure if you want to hit him or kiss him for stopping, but you don’t have the strength to do either when he starts what must be his final round of thrusts. It has to be—you’re a few seconds away from collapsing or coming, whichever comes first. When Stiles moans your name in your ear, soft and high like he does when he’s right there, and he slides his hand down your stomach to rub firm circles on your clit, you’re happy it’s your orgasm that happens first. Your abs convulse a little as you twitch around him, and you curl in on yourself as much as you can with Stiles in the way. He’s not in the way for long. Growling, he shoves you back against the bed and mumbles, “Where?” after a few sloppy thrusts. 

You mewl as he keeps the pressure on your clit, reach for his wrist and try to pull his hand away, but he’s determined and you’re tired. You twitch and throw your head back, whimpering, “Inside,” before you can think better of it. It’s his fault, you’ll decide later, for prolonging your high with his mean, unforgiving, wonderful thumb. 

He’ll blame you, for feeling so perfect around him—for fluttering, and leaking, and trembling better than…anything he’s ever seen in porn, and he’s watched...a lot of it, so he’s a bit of an expert on the cinematic orgasm. “You’re so fuckin—you,” he shakes his head against your heaving chest and groans, “you’re everything.” And when he finally comes in you, you’re okay with taking the blame for something that feels so good. He manages a few more thrusts, and then he finally lets you pull his hand away from your cunt when he collapses onto his forearms, barely holding himself up from crushing you with his full weight. You’d tell him to roll over, but then he’d be over there and not in you, so you put up with the sweat and heaviness while your head spins. 

“Baby?” Stiles hums noncommittally in response to your soft prodding, and you smirk against the top of his head. All the smugness leaves you when you finally feel the foreign sensation of his cum leaking out of you. Shuddering, you kiss his hair a few times and scratch up and down his back lightly until he’s able to breathe normally. He pushes himself up onto his arms and glances down when he pulls out, staring for a moment at the way your pussy gapes a bit, watching the trickle of cum drip down your folds and onto the bed. He rubs his hand over his jaw and licks his lips, shaking his head—at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Your tongue is a little thick when you fill the void for him, “Next time, towel first.”

He finds it within himself to tear his eyes away from your cunt and gives you a crooked little grin, “Next time?”

You roll your eyes, but your grin is stupid with affection, “Sure, next time. Maybe. If you’re good.” 

It’s a little disgusting, the way he just rolls over and pulls you on top of him with absolutely no regard for the various bodily fluids sticking to your skin, but you forget about the unpleasantness of drying cum and cooling sweat when he kisses you. “I’m always good,” he huffs against your cheek. You shoot him a look, brows arched and eyes narrowed, and he smirks, “Okay, maybe not, but I’m always good for you.”

You nuzzle in a little closer and scoff, but it’s true. Stiles is so good, always—especially for you. “I guess you did manage to woo me. You’re very sexy when you’re talkin’ astrology, you know that?” 

He smiles, wide and happy, and wiggles his brows, “An absolute banger of an ending, right? I don’t think they could chart it in the stars without ruining your pretty face, but that’s probably for the best.” Stiles brushes his fingers over your lips when you let out a little questioning hum and takes your hand, growling playfully as he nibbles at your fingertips, “You’re mine. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this but me—definitely not horny little nerds with their telescopes.” 

You grin and bump your nose against his, “You’re a horny little nerd with a telescope.”

Stiles tips his head with a sly grin, and you already know what he’s going to say—it’s still devastatingly adorable when he whispers, “No, I’m your horny little nerd with a telescope.” 

Adorable enough to make you consider pulling him into the shower with you, and if the heavy-lidded look he’s giving you is anything to go by, you’d say he agrees.

[redroses07]

Just Friends // Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

WC:1.7k

Summary: Stiles is struggling after being controlled by the Nogitsune, and he turns to you for help. But little does he know, it will turn your friendship into so much more. Takes place after season 3. (Allison isn't dead!!!)

Warnings: Swearing, angsty as fuck, sad Stiles, kissing, implied smut if you squint?, PTSD.

A/N: HI GUYS!!! I really like this fic and ofc I hope y'all will too! This is my first time writing about Stiles and I think I did pretty well! As always, enjoy!! And comments and reblogs are appreciated. P.S. lmk if y'all want me to do a part 2 where they tell their friends (Scott's reaction hee hee) - Claire ♡

After Stiles was released from the control of the Nogitsune, things seemed to go back to normal. Well, at least that’s what one would think from the outside.

The series of events had taken a severe toll on Stiles’s mental health, and even though he did a good job of hiding it, you were the one person who seemed to know what he needed.

It all started about a week after everything happened, it was the middle of the night and you were jolted awake by the sound of your phone buzzing by your head.

You were about to hit decline but then you saw it was Stiles and feelings of worry began to stir within you.

You quickly answered, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you forced yourself awake.

"Stiles, is everything okay?"

"Yeah...well not really. I hate to ask, but do you think you could drive over to my house. I just really don't want to be alone right now." Stiles's voice was groggy, and laced with exhaustion. The fact alone that he was asking you this made you immediately agree.

You hopped out of bed, not bothering to change out of your pajamas, slipped on your slippers, and you were on your way.

Your house wasn't far from Stiles's, about a five minute drive with no traffic.

You lived directly in the middle of him and Scott, being only a short distance from each. The close proximity was the main reason the three of you had stayed so close throughout your school years.

"Friends", that's all you and Stiles had ever been. Although, neither of you could deny the chemistry between the two of you, risking your friendship never seemed worth it.

It was on this night that all that would begin to change.

When you arrived at Stiles's house, he had left the door unlocked for you so you wouldn't have to fumble around with the spare key in the dark.

You found Stiles laying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked lost in thought, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. It hurt seeing him look so drastically different from the Stiles you knew, and you wanted to do whatever you could to help.

You laid down next to him, your body facing his.

"Hey..." Stiles began, still staring at the ceiling.

"Stiles, what's going on? You know you can trust me with anything right?"

"Yeah...It's just a lot to put into words." Stiles's voice cracked, which told you that he was fighting tears.

You sat up and stiles copied the movement. You were now both facing each other, sitting legs crossed on his bed. You pushed aside the unspoken vow between the two of you and placed his hands in yours. Stiles's breath hitched, and you could tell he was avoiding eye contact with you.

"Take all the time you need, I'll listen to every word." you said softly.

"I know everyone thinks I'm doing okay, but I can't even function. I can't sleep without having nightmares. I can't eat or do anything without remembering all the awful stuff he made me do. I didn't know who else to tell except you. Scott has his own set of issues, and you're the only person I trust like this."

Stiles began to ramble, and your heart broke as he did. How had you not noticed earlier? Yes, it had only been a week, but you knew Stiles better than anyone. You felt like an awful best friend.

"I'm so tired, I just want to feel normal again." He could no longer hold back the tears, the dam broke and Stiles became a sobbing mess.

You pulled him into your arms with no hesitation, which only made Stiles want to cry.

"No, no I'm going to get your clothes all wet." Stiles protested trying to pull away, but you wouldn't let him.

"A few tears never hurt anyone." You said.

At that Stiles let himself fall into you, his body going limp with exhaustion. You tried not to cry along with him, wiping your burning eyes to prevent the tears.

"It'll be okay." You whispered as Stiles's sobs turned into sniffles. He finally looked up, his cheeks wet from the tears that had escaped his puffy eyes.

You did the only thing you could think of and gave him two kisses, one peck on each cheek. Stiles lips turned up in a small smile, his cheeks still turning red despite his current state.

"I think the first thing we need to do is get you to bed." You smiled, pushing Stiles's messy hair back.

He looks at you and nods without moving from your arms. You lean back on his bed, pulling him with you. You positioned yourself to where Stiles was resting on top of your body, his head pressed to your chest. You kept your arms wrapped around him, squeezing his body in an attempt to comfort him.

As you were settling down you heard Stiles whisper your name softly.

"Yeah?"

"Promise you'll wake me up if I'm having a nightmare?"

"I promise." You replied as you reached down and laced your fingers with his.

Stiles gave you a half-hearted smile in response, his puffy eyes glazed over from fatigue.

"Thank you." Stiles murmured, fighting sleep.

"Shhh." Was your only response as you traced your fingers along his back.

"I love you." It was an incoherent whisper, so much that you couldn't be sure of his words. But something told you you had heard correctly.

By the time you went to reciprocate the statement, the room was filled with Stiles's muffled snores.

You sighed and proceeded to fall asleep yourself.

Stiles slept through the night for the first time in weeks.

After that the trajectory of your relationship began to shift.

From holding Stiles's hand to remind him that everything was okay when you were with your friends, to staying up all night listening to him talk.

You rarely got to sleep at home anymore, but you didn't mind. You weren't far if you needed something, and it helped Stiles get a good night's sleep. Yet he would still apologize every time. "I'm sorry to bother you again.", "I promise this is the last time.", when in reality you were definitely okay with an excuse to spend more time with him.

You had become his anchor to reality, and Stiles could feel things beginning to look up with every day that passed.

Your friends picked up on it too.

"So, are you and Stiles together, or..." Lydia and Allison asked when they managed to corner you at your locker one day. It was a question you didn't know how to answer. Eventually landing on, 'it's complicated.'

"What's going on with you and Stiles, I'm starting to feel like a third wheel when we're together." It was a joke, but there was certainly some truth behind it.

You laughed it off and changed the subject, but didn't forget the comment that night when you and Stiles laid in each other's arms drifting off to sleep.

Surprisingly, it wasn't you who finally brought it up, but Stiles.

It was a Friday night, and the two of you were at your house instead of his.

"Shit, I forgot clothes to change into." Stiles said as he fumbled through his backpack.

"It's all good, I have a spare pair of clothes in my drawer for you." You replied, pointing to the dresser.

Stiles smiled and laughed, holding eye contact with you for perhaps a moment too long.

"You take care of so much for me, sometimes I feel like you're my wife." It was a casual statement, but it put you at a loss for words.

You laughed awkwardly, failing to come up with a reply.

Stiles could very clearly read your emotions, he pushed the drawer shut and walked back over to sit next to you.

You tried to calm yourself, but your heart wouldn't stop beating at what felt like an unhealthy pace.

"You're my best friend..." Stiles began, taking your clammy hands in his.

"You've done so much for me in the past few weeks, just like a best friend should; but I can't help thinking that this feels like something more."

You felt as if the world stopped. You knew this conversation would come, but definitely not now. Your brain seemed to stop producing thoughts.

"Please tell me I'm not imagining all of this. I know this is a lot at once, but Y/N I love you." Stiles's voice shook from the overwhelming nerves.

"I love you too." You spoke for the first time in minutes, it felt amazing after you had heard it fall from his lips that first night you spent together.

Stiles's eyes gazed into yours, and suddenly the feeling of just your hands touching wasn't enough.

You reached over and grabbed Stiles face, finally closing the gap between the two of you.

You pulled Stiles down as you did, his body landing on top of you sinking into the kiss.

You tugged on his hair lightly, pulling him as close to you as humanly possible. Stiles fell deeper into the kiss, locking your hands together and pressing your body further into the soft mattress.

After a few minutes of pure bliss you broke apart. The air that filled your lungs was both a blessing and a curse. You needed to breathe, but the absence of his touch only made you want him more.

Stiles hovered over you, the sound of his heavy breathing was the only thing you could hear over your own beating heart.

"So I take it you're not just my best friend anymore?" Stiles giggled, pressing his forehead gently against yours.

"Nope."

You gave a sly smile before pulling Stiles down by his shirt and connecting your lips once more.

[twdxtrevor]

I'm gonna need a fanfic based on this gif right the fuck now please . . (idea in comments)

[obriengf]

Undercover Darlings || Mitch Rapp x Reader

Summary: It's Valentines day, and you and Mitch are playing fake lovers.  Words: 1.9k Warnings: swearing, cuteness, mitch being sassy to stan Notes: guys no this didn't turn out how i wanted?? I'm so sorry!

"Put your arm around me." Words were pushed through gritted teeth as you tried to portray a smile of realism, one of joyousness and devotion to the overly familiar man sitting beside you. You could feel his chest rise and fall with a murmur before he released a small sigh - irritation was imminent, but what you couldn't see was the ghost of a smile lifting at his lips. Paris was beautiful this time of year - on the cusp of falling snow, but still clear enough to enjoy the elegance of such a romantic city. The architecture stood sharp as you peered around the vast space before you, eyes gazing over couples as they celebrated a holiday made purely for love. It created a warmth within you, only complemented by the additional weight thrown over your shoulders and the small tug of your body against the firmness of another's chest. A smirk found its way among the contouring of your facial features - amusement etching into the corners of your eyes and the scrunch of your nose. You could feel the muscles of the arm tense, and you knew that you had him where you wanted him. Your partner was never one to show emotion with ease if it didn't consist of anger or irritability, nor were you one to often show roguery or mischievousness. But Mitch Rapp, the big bad Assassin, brought that side out of you so damn easily. It was an enigma just how he managed to do so, but by now it was comfortable more than anything. A small twist of your head allowed lips to press to the man's scruffed cheek, his beard beginning to grow back through despite your protests - it only made his want for it to grow even faster. You could feel a deep breath as it filled his lungs, his heart hammering against the curve of your shoulder blade. A tone of sweetness fell so easily from your lips, "Thanks, sweetie." Mitch's arm squeezed your body, a warning more than a simple acknowledgment. He groaned quietly against the shell of your ear, "Don't push it."

To an estranged eye, the two of you would seem like a couple enjoying the presence of one another; soaking in the strong emotion of love as it filled the Parisian air, without a worry or care. However, that timeline of events was far from what led you both to this specific bench, in this specific park, watching a specific person as they dawdled at the base of France's tallest landmark. Your target was a man with a deep history of 'pissing off the wrong people', as Stan Hurley would put it so elegantly.

The man wasn't hard to miss; his stance tall and build hefty, eyes teetering on the edge of blackened hues, his behaviour shifty despite the experience that weighed so heavily behind him. He ran a weapons trade that spanned the distance of Europe and his focus was secured now upon the rest of the world. Which simply, cannot happen. Not when the Central Intelligence Agency had two of its most adaptable agents ready to stop him.

You had worked alongside Mitch for what seemed like forever when it was nearing almost five years. He objected to it at first, but you held persistence and dedication that your handler couldn't pass up, especially when it came down to taming the beast. It was quicker than expected when you both fell into a routine and soon enough, the quirks and characteristics that made you both so incredibly different were the structure of your unique relationship.

Without declaration, he would burn the world to keep you warm.

"Where is he going?" Mitch's voice hissed, your concentrated daze breaking before looking toward your target. He was meant to be meeting with somebody, however, it wasn't in the cards for his early departure. Your partner cursed as he stood up and your body went with him, a shadow to his lead. Mitch's arm fell from you before his fingers slid nonchalantly with your own; both a wordless protection and tenacity to keep your cover from being blown. Mitch rolled his lips before moving forward, "C'mon, we're gonna lose him."

You couldn't help the furrowed brows of annoyance as static buzzed in your ear, a baffled Stan Hurley blasting question after question in such an incoherence as Mitch led you through the bustling crowds. You side-eyed your partner as he gave you a reciprocated expression before his honey-coloured eyes rolled in an atypical fashion. "He's on the move.", You spoke quietly, hoping that the projection of your voice was enough to be recognised among the numerous conversations you were surrounded by.

"Well, you better fucking catch up to him!" Your handler replied, and Mitch rolled his eyes once more.

"No shit." Your partner's reply with hasty and simple, causing the utmost satisfaction for you both as he was reprimanded briefly afterwards by the voice in your ears.

The man led you both toward a Valentines market; the populated street covered in red from head to toe, acoustic tunes exuding romance playing from street performers, and couples shining their brightest heart eyes at one another. It was the perfect place to get lost in, and in the moment you hoped for dear life that your target didn't know that he was in fact, a target.

Mitch held your hand tighter before tugging you against his side; the familiar weight of his arm now slung back over your shoulders. You blended in perfectly, a flawless seam among the budding bustle of festivalgoers. The proximity bordered on 'too natural' and you wondered if Mitch felt even the slightest complacency as you did at this opportune moment. It was a simple question of 'what if' - in an alternative world where you both weren't government-employed assassins, would your lives be easy and intertwined by fate, where maybe the two of you could live a happily ever aft-

"Rose for the madam?" The thick accent made you jolt, the silly thoughts intruding your mind now gone as Mitch brought you both to a stop. You looked toward a small French man, a stand of explosive colours serving as a beautiful backdrop behind him. Flowers of all sorts were gathered into small bouquets, but the one that stood out most to you was the perfect red petals of a single rose as it was positioned for Mitch's attention.

You were anticipating a refusal, at least a polite decline, with your partner usually one to skip the antics and keep his eyes on the prize. Which is why it took you by surprise when he handed over a few euros, taking the delicate flower in exchange. You didn't often see him smile but the genuine grin that followed and the kindness in his eyes was more than enough to make your heart thump, thump, thump.

Mitch's brow rose as he looked down at your expression of puzzlement, a chuckle of the utmost quietness falling from his lips as he held the rose toward you, "What? It's Valentine's day."

"You just continue to surprise me, is all." You replied, accepting the gift. Your shoulders rose nonchalantly before you peered not too far ahead at your target as he typed away ferociously at his phone. He was quick to move again, and it was your feet now that led the two of you after his further retreat.

Mitch scoffed, his spare hand scratching at his scruffed cheek; a nervous habit you managed to notice easily but kept as a secret for you and only you to know. He cleared his throat, "I'm just tryn' to keep up our cover. We're meant to be in love, remember?"

"I think you're just going soft on me, Rapp."

You heard a grumble in reply and it made you smirk, his voice hiding as it fell gently into the collar of his jacket, "Whatever."

Navigating through the crowds was becoming more difficult, regardless of the tight grip Mitch had on your hand. You weren't sure whether it was to keep you close so you wouldn't get lost, or as a means to make you both move faster, but he wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.

A familiar crack of static buzzed in your earpiece as the line opened, and you were greeted once more by your handler's voice with further direction. "We're close to your location, he's gonna run outta road soon so wherever this fucker is going, it can't be too far away. Stay vigilant, don't blow your cover."

You and Mitch replied with brief acknowledgment, your surroundings shifting to a smaller space down a city backstreet. Your mission had taken a turn the moment you left the gardens of the Eifel Tower, but you needed to make the best of a bad situation. No matter how frustrating it may be - and if it meant following a dangerous firearm trafficker through the heart of a love festival, then so be it.

The further he went, the less people there were to get in your way. It was a bittersweet concoction of keeping your eyes on him more clearly, versus his prevalent possibility of catching you out. Your target's paranoia was bubbling to the surface as his gaze flickered between the incoming messages on his phone and his surroundings. He was on edge, waiting with anticipation, searching for something. It was as if he could read your mind as he peered over his shoulder with the sceptical feeling that he was being watched.

Mitch swore as he pulled you to the side, avoiding the other man's eyes for a mere moment as he hissed toward you, "Kiss me. Now. Quick."

"What -"

"Kiss me."

You looked at him in confusion and it made your partner's eyes roll before his hands cupped your cheeks. They were splayed over your skin, warm and surprisingly soft, the perfect cradle for when he pressed his lips so carefully against yours. Mitch didn't want to scare you - knowing damn well that you would either kiss him back or sock him for his advances. Luckily, you found comfort in his taste and touch, and it took nothing more for you to melt into his tenderness.

Kissing Mitch wasn't on your cards for today, and you never would've thought that you'd be standing with your arms dangling around his neck, his fingers pressing gently against your jaw as his lips slid and licked with your own. For someone who was losing his patience earlier in the day, Mitch was taking all the time in the world to have you in his grasp. Holding you carefully. Cherishing your lips.

"Have you still got eyes on him?" Stan's voice sounded muffled as you poured every ounce of attention into Mitch. It was white noise, along with the music flowing from the local bands and the chatter of citizens moving around you. "Rapp, Y/L/N. Have you got eyes on the goddamn target?!"

Mitch jumped back slightly - lips still pursed, eyes fluttering as if he was waking up from a dream. He had never looked so at ease, until Stan's words finally caught up to him and his attention shifted to where the target was once standing. Where he was, no more.

Your eyes widened, locking with the honey brown of the man beside you. It was in unison when you both groaned, realization hitting that you did in fact, not, have your sight on the target.

"Fuck."

[seasprincess]

Stiles Stilinski x female reader

a chemistry project with a lot of chemistry

a/n: (that was a funny one thanks)

warnings: none just fluff!!

Stiles Stilinski is the biggest worrier in the world. All his friends know it.

However Stiles, well he has no clue just how much he worries. He can’t see it. It’s normal to him.

But it’s evident now as he scouts his room, making sure it’s all clean. Plumping up the pillows on his bed. He wants this to be perfect. He wants you to think the best of him.

God you’re only coming for the chemistry project. He’s acting like it’s an army inspection. That he’s going to get flamed if there is a spot of dust on his desk.

What if you think bad of him? What if you’re not comfortable? What if. What if. What if.

The doorbell signals your arrival and gives him a heart attack. He’s having to mentally prepare himself for this for the past day. You sprung on the question of doing the project at his house. He got excited and said yes a little bit too fast. Now he’s rather regretting it.

He’s had many people over to his house. And by many people he means Scott thousands of times.

Never has he had a girl over, especially not in his room.

“I got some chocolate if you want some?” Stiles says as he looks at you. Making sure you’re okay.

For the past couple hours Stiles has been checking in on you. And as sweet as it is. It is a lot.

“Or I can get you s-“

“Stiles.” As you say his name he shuts up, for the first time ever Stiles is quiet. Not that it will last. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

You smile at him and all he can do is melt. He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He’s never felt this way about someone, not even Lydia. And that was bad.

From the moment you joined the school he knew he liked you. The way you’d crack jokes, be sarcastic and get anxious at a lot of things.

You were so similar to him it made him connect with you instantly.

“Just let me know if you need anything.”

Gosh is he the sweetest. He’s been so kind to you since that day in chemistry where he invited you to sit with him. Joking between each other which eventually led you here. To his room.

On his bed.

“You’ve never watched Star Wars?!” Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up as he looks at you, sitting up a bit taller at your confession. God he is shocked out of his mind. “You’ve never watched Star Wars?!” He repeats again in utter disbelief. He feels he’s been stabbed in the heart. The girl he likes has bever seen his favourite franchise.

“I’m sorry!” You say as you hold your hands up in mock surrender. Smiling away as you look at him. You’ve noticed the posters of Star Wars in his room, the multiple shirts that are Star Wars themed that he owns.

You’ve just committed an act of treason in this house. “It’s just not my thing.”

“But it’s one of the greatest franchises in the history of cinema. I mean the whole concept of another-”

Stiles continues to ramble on about it. Not even pausing for a breath as he just keeps talking. That’s one thing you have noticed about him. He never shuts up.

Ever.

So you decide to take things into your own hands. Literally.

Your hands cup his cheeks as you look at him. His mouth closing and eyes looking onto you. Staring at you as he freezes up.

You smile at him before he leans in and kisses you. One way to shut him up.

For at least a couple of seconds.

“Shit I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” He says as he pulls away, panicking like he’s late for something. He’s just fucked everything up. He thought it was going well too. Good job Stiles.

“You’re okay. It’s fine.” You say softly to calm the anxious boy down.

Unknown to him he didn’t fuck it up. Not at all. You’ve been wanting him to kiss you ever since you first laid eyes on him. Embarrassingly you’ve imagined it. Not that he’ll ever know.

You grab his cheek again before pressing your lips to his, slowly kissing the boy that’s been in your mind for the past month.

After a couple moments you pull back smiling. Stiles smile beaming on his face before he opens his mouth.

“Still can’t believe you haven’t seen Star Wars.”

a/n: i love stiles

divider- @tsunami-of-tears

tags- @mayfieldss @inlovewithdob

[babyflorencee]

My flannel

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

I awoke to an involuntary shiver coursing through my body. Instinctively, I stretched my arm out in search of my boyfriend, Stiles, but he wasn't there. Emitting a disheartened groan, I shifted my focus towards Stiles' side of the bed, only to discover the window agape, permitting the morning sun to cascade within, its brilliance so intense it could potentially blind those who dared to gaze in its direction. Flipping on my back, I rubbed away the remnants of sleep from my eyes before lifting the sheets away from my nearly exposed form. The moment that the fabric was off my body, the wintry breeze made its presence known, caressing my bare arms and legs. I got out of bed, stumbling over towards the window, almost falling down multiple times, but eventually managing to close and lock it.

I looked around the room, seeing my clothes scattered about. Sighing, I made my way to the open closet, rummaging through Stiles' collection of flannels and jackets until I found the one I wanted to wear. I pulled a multi-colored flannel out of his closet, putting it over my shoulders, and buttoning up all the buttons before descending out of his room, making my way down the stairs and into his kitchen.

Immediately upon entering the room, I saw Stiles sitting at the island table, scrolling through his phone. Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, before placing multiple kisses from his jaw to his cheek "Morning," he mumbled, leaning back into my arms.

"Hey Sti," I murmured into his neck.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, I reluctantly pulled away, only to perch myself upon his lap moments later. Settling into a crisscrossed posture, I leaned back into his chest. "Am I just a chair to you?" He teased, a laugh accompanying his joke.

"Yes, and my own personal footrest," I retorted, offering a bratty smile before quickly turning away.

"Ouch, I feel so used." He faux- pouted, before dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if it was wounded.

Glancing back at him, I noticed his gaze fixed upon me. However, he wasn't looking at my face; he was looking at what I was wearing. He bit his lip before speaking up. "Is this mine?" He lightly pinched a portion of the fabric, tugging it lightly.

"No, it's mine," I asserted, looking down at my hands.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that belongs to me," he said, trying to bite back a laugh.

My eyes widened at the thought of being caught, as my protectiveness over the flannel intensified. "My shirt," I declared, arms crossed defensively as I turned my head to the side, a pout on my face, as I hoped that Stiles wouldn't make me give his flannel back.

Stiles lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, all while looking me dead in the eyes. "What does that say?" He asked, pointing to his name that was written on the the tag.

"Fine, it's yours," I said, sighing in defeat.

"I like how it looks on you," he pressed a light kiss to my temple, quietly laughing at the way my eyes lit up.

"Does that mean I can keep it?" I asked, offering the widest smile I could muster.

"Absolutely not. But you can wear it whenever you want." He said, his hands settling on my thighs, as he rubbed his hands up and down.

"I'll take it!" I said, grabbing his coffee and drinking out of it before making a face of disgust.

"Ew, what did you put in this?" I questioned, frowning as he laughed at me.

"I didn't put anything in it, it's just coffee," he explained, pointing to the dark liquid in the cup.

"This is disgusting," I said, pouting even more as his laughter persisted.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Could you do another 24x24, but it's all about Dylan's butt?

I mean... I do love that series and I did have another in mind, but it wasn't this. What exactly are you proposing here? That his booty be prominent in all imaginings? Or that it be directly involved??? Hahaha!

Either way, thanks for your appreciation of 24x24 and your desire for more booty-centric content is relatable as fuck.

Anon is referring to 24x24, which has a part 2 called 0x24 that you guys can check out for some nonsense smuttiness.

[strangerstilinski]

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter nine

fic summary; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

chapter word count; 14,923

chapter notes; stiles and amber struggle to keep their best friend under control when the powerful pull of scott's second full moon succeeds in turning him into a raging asshole.

masterlist

c h a p t e r   n i n e

lunatic

Amber sighed as she stepped in a particularly deep puddle and felt the water soak into her sneaker. She shook off her foot in a sad attempt to wick away the moisture before it could fully absorb into the fabric of her sock, but it was no use because her next step squelched uncomfortably anyway.

"Where are we going?" Scott asked Stiles for the fourth time in just as many minutes.

"You'll see." Stiles repeated blankly to their friend.

"He's not going to tell us." Amber told Scott, taking a large stride past another cluster of puddles in the pothole-ridden lot where they'd parked Stiles' vehicle as they made their way through the treeline, "Besides, it's pretty obvious we're heading in the direction of the old quarry."

Stiles turned his head sharply. Keeping his left hand tucked inside of his jacket protectively, he used his right to pull her around to his other side and away from Scott, "Did you have to give it away?" He asked her quietly.

"We really shouldn't be out here." Scott interrupted them, "My mom is in a constant state of freak-out from what happened at the school."

"Are you kidding?" Amber asked him, "I'm pretty sure Jason wants to lock me up somewhere and just homeschool me at this point."

"Yeah, well. Neither one of you live with the Sheriff, okay?" Stiles announced, "It's no comparison. Trust me."

"Could you at least tell me what we're doing out here?" Scott asked as he stepped on a twig with a loud snap.

"Yes." Stiles grinned, "When one of your best friends gets dumped-"

"I didn't get dumped," Scott told them resolutely, "We're taking a break."

"Alright, well. When one of your best friends gets told by his girlfriend that they're taking a break-" Stiles amended, pulling out a large bottle from the inside of his jacket and holding it up like a trophy, "You get that best friend drunk."

The bottle of whiskey caught in the bright moonlight that shined from behind Stiles and Amber sighed, shuffling her feet, "Not to be a party pooper but.. I just- Is this such a good idea?"

He scoffed, pulling her along with a hand on her wrist as he led them further into the woods toward the quarry, "Yes, party-pooper. It is a good idea. It-It's a rite of passage! Getting drunk after your first heartbreak."

"It's just.. We have that test tomorrow morning and the full moon is tomorrow night and I think we should probably be focussing on-" She started.

"Nuh-uh," Stiles cut her off, "Not tonight. Tonight, we drink!" He announced happily, turning around and throwing his arms out to present the cluster of rocks where he intended for them to hang out.

"Stiles, did you-" Amber watched him twist the cap off the bottle of whiskey and take a large sip before sputtering and coughing as he swallowed, "Did you come out and scout this location before we got here?"

"Yeah," He coughed again, holding the bottle out to Scott, "I came out this afternoon. This is a good spot, right?"

"I.. Yeah," She told Stiles quickly upon seeing his adorably proud face, "Yeah, it's- A really nice spot." She kicked her foot against a large bit of stone that she thought might make a decent seat, "Uh, good.. rocks."

Scott took a sad sip from the bottle with a wince before handing it over to Amber. The girl eyed the dark liquid inside with a frown, she moved to lift it to her nose to sniff and Stiles reached out quickly to cover the opening with his hand.

"Don't do that." He advised her, "Don't smell it. Nothing good comes from smelling it first."

She nodded with a frown and he removed his hand so she could lift the bottle to her lips. She tilted her head back and poured a large swig into her mouth, trying to swallow the liquid before it could rest on her tongue for too long. She coughed and gagged at the bitter heat in her throat and handed the bottle back to Stiles before plopping her butt down onto her chosen rock.

The three passed the bottle between them slowly for a while, Amber perched criss-cross on the large rock that jutted up above the rest, Scott on the stone floor below her with his knees pulled to his chest, Stiles sprawled out beside him on his back where he could look up at the stars.

"Right, I wasn't looking forward to this, but I really gotta pee." Amber announced to the group, swaying slightly as she got to her feet.

Stiles tilted his head to watch her as she carefully stepped around him and moved toward the treeline, "Don't wander too far!" He called out to her as she walked away, slightly transfixed by the way her tight jeans clung to her backside.

"I won't go too far if Scott promises to tone down his wolfy hearing so I can pee in peace!" She called back over her shoulder, her long hair catching in the breeze.

"You heard the woman, Scott." Stiles told his friend, looking back up at the stars, "No listening to her pee."

"I wasn't going to listen to her pee, Stiles." Scott said brusquely.

They settled into silence and Stiles watched the way the tiny dots of the stars danced around through his blurred vision for a quiet minute, "You still thinking about Allison?" He finally asked Scott.

"Yeah." Scott said honestly.

Stiles sat up to take another drink of the whiskey before leaving the bottle sitting between them and flopping onto his back again, "Dude.. She's just one girl. Y'know? There are so many- There 're so many other girls in the sea." His words slurred at the attempt of such a long sentence.

"'Fish in the sea.'" Scott told him immediately.

"Fish?" Stiles repeated in confusion, tilting his head back to squint at Scott for a second, "Why you talkin' 'bout fish? I'm talkin' 'bout girls." He corrected with a sigh, tilting his head back toward the sky unseeingly, his mind conjuring up images instead, "I love girls.. I love 'em. I love- Especially ones with light ashy brown hair, 'nd hazel eyes that've got more green than brown in 'em, five-foot five-"

"Like Amber?" Scott asked knowingly.

"Yeah, exactly-Hey!" Stiles tilted his head back to look at Scott again in surprise, "How did you know I was talkin' 'bout- About.." Stiles trailed off distractedly, "What was I talking about?" He asked Scott, catching the sad look on his friend's face when he tipped his head back again, "Hey. You're not happy. Take a drink-"

Stiles rolled onto his side to grab the bottle again and held it out to Scott.

"I don't want any more." Scott told him with a frown.

Letting the bottle drop back down to the ground, Stiles laid on his back again, bringing his arm to rest underneath his head, "What, you're not drunk?" He asked.

"I'm not anything." Scott said miserably, looking down at his feet.

"Hey, maybe it's like-" Stiles started, "Maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, y'know? Maybe you can't get drunk as a wolf," He pondered aloud, "Hey, am I drunk?"

"You're wasted," Scott told him blankly before continuing to speak under his breath, "And so's Amber.. She should probably be back by now-"

"C'mon, dude-" Stiles said, not having heard the tail end of Scott's murmuring, "I know it feels bad. I know it hurts. Well, I don't know.. But, I know this- I know as much as being broken up hurts, being alone's way worse." He paused in confusion when he processed his own words and laughed, "That.. Didn't make any sense. I-I need another drink."

"Well," An unfamiliar voice cut in, plucking the bottle up from the ground just before Stiles' fingers could wrap around it, "Look at the little bitches, all getting their drink on."

Stiles quickly stumbled to his feet, heart racing as he looked at the two men who had approached from the treeline. The smaller and lighter skinned of the two was holding Amber against his side with an arm wrapped around her waist and the girl's face was narrowed in annoyance and an underlying fear as she struggled against his grip. The larger man held the whiskey up triumphantly, eyeing the group of teens with a smug grin.

"I- Um," Amber looked between the group nervously, "I ran into these guys on my way back-"

"She told us she was here with her friends," The smaller man interrupted with a frown, "We were expecting more girls.. But, I guess just the one'll have to do." He chuckled, leaning his dirty face into Amber's hair and prompting her to jab him sharply with her elbow.

“Hey, man-" Stiles started anxiously, words cut off when Scott took a small step in front of him and spoke more firmly.

"Don't touch her." Scott spoke darkly. Stiles turned to look at him for a moment and saw no fear on his friend's face, only a cold anger.

"What's that, little man?" The larger guy asked as he raised his eyebrows, annoyed at Scott's lack of submission.

"I don't think he wants to share the girl, or the booze." The smaller man said, readjusting his grip and tugging Amber back against him when she managed to put a small amount of distance between them beneath his slackened grip.

"Let. Her go." Scott said slowly in the same dark voice.

"Listen.. You guys let her go, the three of us will leave and-" Stiles started placatingly, his heart hammering in his chest, "And you guys can keep the bottle."

"No." Scott cut in, looking back at Stiles for a moment and ignoring the furious look of disbelief of his face, "You guys brought me here to get me drunk. I'm not drunk yet."

The stranger holding the whiskey shook his head with a laugh and lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig. Stiles nervously watched Scott take a couple of steps forward until he stood face to face with the two men. Scott's head turned between Amber's fear-filled eyes and the larger man in front of him.

"Let her go. And give me the bottle of Jack." Scott's voice dropped as he spoke, deepening into what was almost a growl. Stiles watched claws protrude from Scott's fingertips and Stiles' eyes widened. He quickly flicked his gaze back up at the scene in front of him. The two men both flinched back in surprise as they looked at whatever emotion covered Scott's face and the larger man slowly held the bottle out toward Scott.

Amber apparently took the moment of distracted fear as an opportunity, and she stomped the heel of her foot down onto the toes of the man still loosely holding her around the waist. She stumbled forward when he let her go in surprise and Stiles grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to stand behind Scott.

She huddled close to Stiles and fisted her small hand into the fabric of his shirt. His eyes raked over her in a rush, catching the lingering fear in her eyes and the way her chest was rising and falling with shaky breaths beneath her sweatshirt. After determining that he didn't think she'd been physically harmed, Stiles reluctantly turned his attention back to the confrontation still taking place.

Scott glanced back toward them quickly, his eyes glowing bright gold, before he turned to face forward again and threw the bottle of whiskey a couple hundred feet across the clearing. It shattered loudly against a tree and the two strange men took a nervous step away.

"We-" Stiles cleared his throat anxiously, "We cool?"

The men both nodded, backing another few steps away while keeping their eyes glued to Scott.

"Great meeting you, then." Amber said sarcastically. She tugged on Stiles' hand and grabbed the sleeve of Scott's jacket as she began to pull them away and back in the direction they'd initially hiked out from, "Let's go." She pleaded, pulling more firmly on Scott's sleeve when he didn't immediately budge.

"Yeah, Scott. Let's go, man." Stiles agreed, locking his fingers with Amber's and stumbling in his inebriated state.

He squeezed her hand guiltily as he thought about his insistence on coming out and drinking, an anxious pit growing in his stomach as she pulled him along. So far, he didn't feel like he was doing incredibly well on his promise to keep her safe.

The three friends sat in the vehicle for several long minutes after they finally climbed back inside, a thick silence filling the Jeep. Each of them unsure exactly what to say.

"So, that was kind of really scary." Amber finally admitted quietly once the silence had stretched just a hair too long. She looked between her friends for their reactions, at Scott behind the wheel and Stiles tensely sitting in his own passenger seat.

"Agreed." Stiles told her, "Am, I'm so sor-"

"I wouldn't've let them hurt you." Scott interrupted, his eyes flicking to Amber before looking back out the windshield with an angry stare, "I mean it. Just seeing him touch you like that.. If they'd hurt you I would've- I mean, I-I actually wanted to-"

He shook his head and she reached out to rest a hand on his arm to stop him, "Scott, it's okay."

"I wouldn't have let them hurt you. Either of you." He clarified, his eyes drifting past her to look at Stiles.

"We know, man." Stiles told him, leaning his head back against the window.

"Let's get out of here?" Amber prompted quietly after a moment, her attention focused on Scott.

He nodded and started up the vehicle, getting them back onto the main road. He drove the Jeep back to Stiles' house, but refused the offer to stay the night and instead insisted on walking home.

Amber watched him go with a worried frown, shivering in the late night air as she eased back from wasted into pleasantly drunk.

Stiles pulled her inside the house and they stumbled up the staircase toward his bedroom, the two of them laughing loudly at one another as they tripped over the troublesome stairs.

He veered off toward the bathroom and she entered the bedroom and moved to stand beside the dresser, leaning against the wall as she waited. When he reappeared a few minutes later, he had already changed into pajamas and she chewed distractedly on her lip when she saw how soft and attractive he looked.

"You know, you could find clothes to sleep in yourself for once." He told her with a laugh as he came to stand in front of his dresser.

"I don't want to dig around through your drawers." She frowned.

"I don't have that many clothes. There wouldn't be much digging." Stiles laughed, leaning against the piece of furniture casually and looking at her.

"No, I just meant," She paused, "I wouldn't want to, y'know, find anything.. Racy."

He blinked in surprise, "I- Amber.. First of all, I hide things better than that. My dad is a cop. A Sheriff." He laughed incredulously, "And even if he wasn't, I wouldn't keep porn in my underwear drawer."

She blushed awkwardly at his words and shuffled on her feet, her mind drifting to the contents of her own dresser.

He balked at her reaction, "I- Do you keep porn in your underwear drawer?"

"Ew, gross, no. I don't have physical copies of porn. It's the twenty-first century, Stiles." She defended quickly.

"Okay.." He started slowly, "Then what do you hide in your underwear drawer that has you so red?" He prodded gently, an eager look on his face.

"Um," She swallowed, determinedly looking at the lamp across the room, "Not porn."

"Well if it's not porn then what else would you-" He paused with wide eyes. He stood up straighter and took one step to the side to block her line of sight across the room. His own cheeks were tinged pink as he looked at her blushing face, "You.. You keep your-"

"Eugh, Stiles don't say it!" She pleaded, stepping forward and covering his mouth with both of her hands, "Yes I have a-" She paused, face hot with embarrassment, "A you-know-what. And yes, I hide it in my underwear drawer. Please, let's never talk about it again."

He was still looking at her wide-eyed and he nodded distractedly, his focus seemingly somewhere else. She dropped her hands from his mouth as she took a step back and sighed after a few seconds passed and his focus didn't return.

"Stiles, please stop thinking about my sex toys." She pleaded quietly. She'd begun to pull off her hoodie when she finally heard his voice again.

"Toys? Toys as in plural? As in more than one?"

She finally ripped the sweatshirt over her head and she glared at him as she dropped it to the floor, "I thought we were going to never talk about it again? Here we are.. Talking about it."

"Right, you're right. I'm sorry." Stiles blinked and shook his head, his eyes drifting down to her tank top for a moment. He blinked again and turned to the dresser, pulling open a drawer in preparation, "Right, okay. What'd'you need? Just a tshirt?"

"Can I have something with long sleeves?" She asked, shivering as if on command.

He shifted through his stack of tshirts for a moment before pulling out a white long sleeved tee. He held it out to her and she reached to take it from him, but he pulled his hand back playfully before she could grab it.

She made a quiet noise of discontentment and reached for the shirt again but Stiles lifted his arm over his head and held it just out of her reach, a large grin on his face as he watched her push up on her tiptoes. She pulled at his arm with one hand and nearly had the shirt in her reach when he readjusted once again.

He laughed, holding his hand outstretched behind his back where she couldn't get to it. She pinched her face in annoyance and determination and leaned closer, her arm reaching around him to grab for the shirt but her fingers only just reaching past his elbow.

"Stiles, c'mon I'm cold-" She tried again, leaning into his chest with her cheek against his as she tried to gain a couple more inches in arm length.

"The thermostat is set to seventy," He laughed again, his head turning to look at her put-out expression.

She huffed in frustration and gripped his opposite shoulder in her hand as she hauled herself higher up his body to reach for the clothing. She heard him huff another small laugh at her and she turned her head to glare at him, a quip on her tongue about it not being funny, but their faces had been hovering closer together than she'd thought and when she turned, her mouth brushed across his cheek before skimming softly over the plushness of his lips.

Her gaze caught on his eyelashes as they fluttered shut and something in her belly flipped when she felt the soft breath he let out over her lips and she gasped quietly before jerking away.

She released his shoulder quickly, dropping back down onto the floor flat-footed and easing herself back until their chests were no longer pressed together. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ribcage and her lips tingled from the soft touch of his mouth against hers.

"I'm sorry." She said quickly, eyes wide.

Stiles looked stunned and she swallowed as she watched his arm holding the shirt slowly drop back down to rest at his side, "I- No- No apology necessary-"

She nodded and trained her focus on a tiny mole on the side of his neck, worried that if she looked at his face, she wouldn't be able to force her eyes to look at anything but his lips.

Stiles reached out to awkwardly offered her the shirt still gripped in his hand and she accepted the shirt quickly, taking a small step back before pulling it on over the thin fabric of her tank top. She reached up to pull her hair free from the collar of the shirt before thoughtlessly beginning to remove her jeans. She managed to pull one leg free and lifted her other foot to tug at the fabric around her other ankle but she swayed lightly on her feet as she finally rid herself of her jeans and she felt Stiles reach up to steady her with a hand on her waist.

"I think 'm still kinda drunk." She admitted with a quiet laugh, finally looking up to find him standing temptingly close.

His brown eyes flicked slowly back and forth between hers before he spoke, "Yeah, me too."

She took a small step back out of his reach again, "Brush our teeth 'nd then bed?" She asked him, taking another step toward the bedroom door.

Stiles reached up to rub at the back of his neck and nodded, gesturing for her to leave the room first.

They brushed their teeth quickly and Amber ran back toward the bedroom excitedly, jumping into the bed and landing in an ungraceful heap in the pile of blankets where she began to kick at the duvet until she could stick her bare legs beneath the fabric.

Stiles entered the room just as she was pulling the blankets up with a contented sigh. He watched her silently for a moment before flicking off the light and coming to climb in beside her.

She flopped down onto her preferred pillow and stared up at the ceiling, dark shapes swaying and bending in her vision dizzily now that her intoxicated body was laying completely still. Her mind drifted sleepily after a few minutes in the quiet and she yawned before speaking softly into the dark.

"Can't believe we kissed after all these years.. I mean.. We've been best friends since the third grade 'nd we kiss for the first time and it's a total accident-"

"Wait, wait-" Stiles interrupted her quietly, "That wasn't our first kiss, though."

She rolled onto her side in the dark and looked at the dark shape of him in confusion, "What do you mean? Yeah it was."

She heard more than saw him shake his head against his pillow, "No it wasn't," He told her adamantly, "We've kissed before."

"No we haven't," She laughed quietly, "I think I'd remember if we'd kissed before, Stiles."

"Well, we did," He said quietly, "You were in second grade. There was this jump rope tournament going on at recess for weeks and you and Lydia refused to be a part of it. But you watched from the sidelines every day and you made these little bracelets with dandelion stems for the kids that got eliminated-"

He shook his head again in the dark before continuing, "And, anyway- Then it was just down to me and that kid Vernon and then Jackson, and- And I remember you said something about how you promised to marry the winner the next day." Stiles told the story quietly and Amber's face contorted in confusion as she struggled to comprehend his words, "Anyway, I bribed Vernon with an X-Men comic, and I untied Jackson's shoelaces, and I won."

"I do remember that," She admitted quietly, "But Stiles, you didn't win. Lydia did the whole, 'You may now kiss' thing under the slides but it was me and that third grader with the pretty hair-" She paused, trying to remember the boy's name — It hadn't been English. It had been a Czechoslovakian name, or maybe Romanian. She sighed in frustration when she couldn't quite remember, "I think he moved away after that school year. His name was.. Like, Mooshy-"

"Mieczysław." Stiles interrupted, the pronunciation seeming to fall off his tongue easily.

"Yes!" She told him quietly, "See, you do remember him."

"Amber. You know my birth name isn't Stiles.." He said slowly.

The seemingly sudden change in subject left her feeling confused but she allowed it, "Yeah, I know," She agreed with a yawn, wiggling in place in the bed to burrow deeper beneath the blankets, "It's, um-" She frowned, "I-I don't think you've ever actually told me your real name."

"It's Mieczysław." He told her with a small laugh.

She reached out and punched him in what she approximated was his arm, "No, it's not." She said quickly, but as the puzzle pieces slowly began to slide together in her brain, she gasped in the dark, "Stiles, no it's not." She repeated in disbelief before punching him again.

"Ow-" He rubbed at the newly sensitive spot on his arm, "I thought you knew!" Stiles defended, reaching out in the dark and grabbing her fist in his hand so that she couldn't hit him again.

"So then.. That was the year you were held back.. And you got rid of the shoulder-length hair.." She started, pausing for a moment, "But, the next year you weren't-"

"Going by my birth name was always hell. The teachers couldn't pronounce it, let alone the other kids-" He told her, "We went to visit my grandad that summer. He's this raging asshole of an army vet, but- He always went by Stiles and I liked it. Made my mom and dad start calling me it almost immediately and refused to answer to anything to else."

"Meecshislav," She whispered with careful pronunciation with a yawn, grinning when Stiles squeezed his hand around her fist softly, "It's kinda pretty."

"Yeah, pretty's exactly what I'm going for." He chuckled sarcastically.

She shuffled closer in the bed and nestled her head beneath his chin, taking a deep breath. He smelled like laundry detergent, and body wash, and whiskey, and something underneath it all that was inherently Stiles.

One of his arms came up to wrap around her back and she nuzzled contentedly into the warmth of his chest beneath the blankets. She resolutely blamed the remaining buzz of alcohol in her brain for the words that sleepily left her mouth next.

"Bu' you are. Think y're very pretty."

And then she was out like a light.

When Monday finally came around after the police-enforced four day weekend, just being inside of the day-lit school building felt surreal. Amber sat on the floor outside of the front office with Stiles, her legs sprawled out in front of her. She tapped her fingers impatiently against the bare skin off her thighs below the hem of her skirt.

"Stiles, I know you wanna talk to your dad, but we're seriously going to be late if we don't-"

"No," He interrupted her. "No one's gonna fail us for being two minutes late for a standardized test, alright? I need to talk to my dad before he goes out looking for Derek tonight."

She sighed, knowing that her friend was right. She was worried about the safety of all of the police officers who would be going out on the night of the full moon with a murderous Alpha still on the loose. She glanced at the clock on her phone screen, chewing her lower lip anxiously.

The bell signaling the end of the fifteen-minute morning break trilled out loudly in the hallway and Amber flinched, looking at Stiles nervously for only a second before the office door swung open. Sheriff Stilinski's voice could be heard murmuring softly to the principal and the two officers with him as they all stepped out into the hall.

Stiles got to his feet clumsily, pulling Amber up by her bicep. The Sheriff cast them both a displeased look when he spirited them and he dismissed the two officers as the teens came to stand in front of him.

"Don't you both have a test to get to?" The Sheriff asked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows as he looked between them.

Amber nodded and Stiles spoke quickly, "What's goin' on? Did you find Derek yet?"

"I'm workin' on it," Sheriff Stilinski told him. He looked at where Amber was checking the time nervously on her phone again before returning his attention to his son, "You, go take your test."

"Alright, but dad, listen to me-"

"Go." The Sheriff insisted.

"This is really important," Stiles told him urgently. The Sheriff glanced between the two teens again and sighed when Amber nodded her own insistence. "You have to be careful tonight, okay?" Stiles pleaded.

"Especially tonight." Amber emphasized.

"You guys, I'm always careful." Sheriff Stilinski told them earnestly.

Stiles took a breath, "Dad, you've never dealt with this kind of thing before, okay? At least not like this."

"I know. Which is why I've brought in people who have." The man told them both. They frowned in confusion before he continued, "State detectives. Now, go. Both of you. Go take your test."

Stiles scrunched his face in frustration before readjusting his grip on his backpack and begrudgingly pulling Amber down the hallway with a sigh.

"Those state detectives aren't going to be any help at all, are they?" She leaned close to ask the question quietly as they fast-walked down the hall toward the east stairwell.

"Nope. Not one bit." He told her as they climbed the stairs two at a time.

As they rushed into the classroom for the test, they were still in the first half of students to arrive and Amber sighed in relief as she took a seat at an empty desk. She quickly pulled out a pencil as Stiles threw his backpack to the ground and settled into the seat behind her.

She tapped her pencil eraser against her desk anxiously as she waited for the rest of their classmates to file into the room. When Scott stepped through the doorway, Amber watched him falter as he caught sight of Allison at a desk in the front of the room. A few students shuffled around his frozen body awkwardly as they moved toward the remaining empty desks.

Scott stepped forward a few slow steps to approach Allison's desk and Amber winced in sympathy for them both.

Before Scott could say anything, Mr. Harris stepped up behind him and leaned in close as he dropped a set of test booklets on the desk at the front of each row, "Mr. McCall, please take a seat."

Scott seemed to hesitate for a moment before he frowned and made his way toward the empty desk remaining in front of Amber and Stiles, only a few seats away from Allison. As he fell into his seat, he gave Amber and Stiles a small smile of commiseration, passing the stack of blue test booklets back onto Amber's desk.

She kept one booklet before passing the final two back to Stiles for him and the student sitting behind him. He gave her a reassuring smile and his fingers brushed softly over hers as he took the tests from her outstretched hand.

She turned back around in her seat with a sigh. She had studied and done practice tests the entirety of Thursday and Friday. Though she had no reason to be nervous, she found herself wiping her clammy hands on the wool of her short skirt under her desk anyway.

"You have forty-five minutes to complete the test," Mr. Harris' voice announced from the front of the room, "Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now, simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book." He told them, letting his glare rake over the students slowly as he continued, "However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover and I'll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher." Mr. Harris sighed with an eye roll as he sat down at the desk at the front of the room, "So, let's get the disappointment over with. Begin."

Amber wrote her name at the top of her booklet and quickly flipped open the front cover, her eyes raking over the words on the page rapidly. She sped through the first couple of pages, recognizing many of the questions from her practice tests, and circled her answers quickly as she went. She chewed her lower lip and tapped the fingertips of her left hand against the top of her desk as she plowed through the mercifully easy test questions.

There were only a few unanswered questions remaining in her booklet when Scott suddenly shot up from the desk in front of her. He grabbed his backpack and abandoned his open test on his desktop, rushing toward the door.

"Mr. McCall!" Their teacher called out, watching Scott ignore him as he ran from the classroom.

Amber turned her head worriedly to glance back at Stiles, but he already was rising from his own desk and running after Scott.

"Mr. Stilinski!" Their teacher shouted at him as he left the room. Amber began to stand from her own seat and Mr. Harris shot her a sharp look, "Sit. Down."

She shied back from his scolding and frustratedly went back to her test, quickly skimming the last few questions and circling her answers. She flipped the booklet closed and pushed up from her seat, grabbing Stiles' backpack from the floor behind her desk and rushing to the front of the room.

"Miss Callisto, if you don't return to your seat and finish your test, I am going to give you detention for the next-"

She set her completed booklet on top of his desk, "I'm finished." She told him quickly, eyes flicking to the door worriedly.

Mr. Harris narrowed his eyes and flipped through the booklet to verify whether or not she was lying. When he determined she was telling the truth, he scrunched his face up in annoyance and nodded once, dismissing her.

She tightened her grip on Stiles' bag and ran from the room. She rushed down the hallway in the direction Scott and Stiles had gone in only a minute before, looking around wildly for a clue as to where they'd gone.

"Guys." She whisper-shouted as she ran down the hall.

She got no response, but she heard a cellphone ring out with the same ringtone Scott used. It came from the next hallway over before cutting off sharply. She rushed down the hall and realized with a slightly queasy feeling in her stomach that she was heading in the direction of the boy's locker room.

When she reached the doorway, the door that had been covered in the janitor's blood just a few nights before had been removed from its hinges. She rushed through the opening without allowing herself time to think about the last time she'd been in the room.

"-I can't. I can't breathe-" She heard Scott gasp before he took a wheezing breath.

"Scott?" She called out worriedly, sprinting to the back of the room in a panic.

She skidded into Stiles' back when she turned the corner toward the showers and found Scott hyperventilating, shirtless and soaking wet. Stiles was digging through Scott's backpack frantically and he pulled out Scott's inhaler from the bottom of the bag, holding it out toward their friend.

"Here, use this." Stiles said, shaking the inhaler at him. Amber and Scott both looked at him in confusion and Stiles shook it emphatically again, "Come on. Do it."

"I- Just try it, Scott." Amber told him, taking it from Stiles' hand. She pulled the cap from the mouthpiece and held it out closer to Scott as he continued to gasp in choppy breaths.

He took the inhaler from her hand and brought it up to his mouth, squeezing the device down and taking the medicine into his lungs. He leaned over for a few seconds, beginning to inhale deep breaths as he calmed and Amber sighed in relief.

Scott breathed slowly for a few seconds before looking up at them in confusion, "Wh- I was having an asthma attack?"

"No. You were having a panic attack. But, thinking you were having an asthma attack, actually stopped the panic attack." Stiles explained slowly, "Irony."

"How- How did you know to do that?" Scott asked him.

Stiles looked at Amber sadly for a moment before returning his attention to Scott, "I used to get them- After my mom died. And-and then Amber did too, when her parents-" His voice faded out.

Amber chewed on her lower lip at the admission, recalling all of the times Stiles had calmed her down or distracted her from her own panic attacks.

"Not fun, huh?" She asked Scott quietly, reaching down and pulling at the hem of her skirt awkwardly.

Scott shook his head at them sadly, taking a slow breath, "I-I looked at her and it was like someone hit me in the ribs with a hammer."

"Yeah, that's heartbreak." Amber told him with a sympathetic smile.

Stiles chuckled sadly and nodded, "There's about two billion songs written about it."

"I can't stop thinking about her." Scott panted, leaning his head back against the shower wall.

"You could think about this," Stiles started, "Her dad's a werewolf hunter.. You're a werewolf. So, it was bound to become an issue-" He laughed quietly and Amber reached over to slap him in the arm. "That wasn't helpful." Stiles agreed with a small nod of his head.

"It's gonna hurt, Scott." Amber said softly, "And it sucks, but.. It won't feel like this forever."

"Dude, I mean- You got dumped." Stiles told him with a shrug, "It's supposed to suck."

"No," Scott disagreed, "That's not all. It was like I could feel everything in the room.. Everyone else's emotions."

"Like, everyone else's stress and anxiety about the test." Amber realized, looking at him pityingly.

"It's gotta be the full moon," Stiles said, seemingly deep in thought. He shook his head as he refocused and looked between his best friends, "So, Amber and I'll lock you in your room later like we planned. That way, you'll be contained, and the Alpha- Who's your boss," He reminded him, "Can't get to you either."

"I think you guys need to do a lot more than lock me in my room." Scott told them honestly.

"What- Are you worried about the Alpha or- Or the hunters?" Amber asked him worriedly.

Scott shook his head, stepping out of the shower stall and coming closer to his friends, "No. I-I think if I get out- I think I might kill someone."

Stiles climbed over the changing bench in the locker room, lacrosse stick in hand, and sat down in the open space beside Scott as Coach Finstock came out of his office.

"All right, geniuses!" Coach shouted to gain the attention of the team, continuing to talk as they huddled around him at the back of the locker room, "Listen up! Due to the recent pink-eye epidemic- Thank you, Greenberg- The following people have made first line on a probationary basis. Emphasis on 'probationary'."

Stiles looked around wide-eyed. He glanced at Scott to find that his friend wasn't paying any attention to the team meeting taking place but Stiles sat up straighter as he focused his attention on their Coach.

Finstock lifted the clipboard in his hands up to look at the list of player names on the sheet of paper, "Rodriguez," He read off slowly, "Welcome to first line. Taylor.. And, uh-" The Coach paused, squinting in confusion at the paper in front of him, "Oh, for the love of crap. I can't even read my own writing.. What is that? An 'S'?" He questioned aloud.

Stiles was barely containing his eagerness, rising to hover above his seat and shaking in anticipation, praying for his last name to be called. Stilinski.. Stilinski.

"No, no, wait." Coach immediately backtracked. Stiles deflated and fell back onto the bench as Coach Finstock continued, "That's not an 'S', that's a- That's a 'B'. It's definitely a 'B'." He announced, "Rodriguez, Taylor, and Bilinski!"

Stiles' head snapped up in excitement, "Ha! Aha!" He yelled enthusiastically, rising to his feet and lifting his arms above his head in triumph. He whooped and cheered and looked around the room with wide eyes, but he seemed to be the only one affected by the incredible news.

"Bilinski!" Coach Finstock yelled at him with an unimpressed glare.

"Yes?" Stiles asked quickly.

"Shut up." Coach told him.

"Yes, sir." Stiles winced, sitting back down beside Scott as a couple of their teammates laughed.

"Stiles-" Scott said to him quietly.

"It's Biles." Stiles corrected quickly, "Call me Biles or I swear to god I'll kill you."

"And another thing!" Coach called out, "From here on out, we're switching to co-captains. Congratulations McCall."

Stiles looked at Scott in surprise and found a similar look of astonishment on his face. Stiles nudged his knee against his best friend's excitedly as Jackson stepped forward to stand beside Coach.

"What?" Jackson asked quietly.

"What do you mean, 'What?'" Coach asked him, "Jackson, this takes nothing away from you. This is about combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall's unit, and- We're making one big unit." Coach told him assuredly, "McCall. It's you and Jackson now. Everybody else, asses on the field!"

Coach blew on his whistle in emphasis and Stiles quickly grabbed his duffle bag and stood up with Scott to walk to the front of the locker room, "Dude, can you believe this?" Stiles asked, "You're captain, I'm first line.. I'm first freaking line!" He yelled excitedly.

They made their way out into the hallway and Scott still hadn't spoken so Stiles turned to his friend in confusion, readjusting his bag over his shoulder as they walked, "Are you not freaking out?" Stiles asked, still in disbelief at the events of the last two minutes, "I'm freaking out!"

"What's the point?" Scott asked blankly, "It's just a stupid title. And- I could practically smell the jealousy in there."

Stiles paused, jerking back in surprise and pulling Scott to a stop, "Wait. You can smell jealousy?" He asked in confusion.

Scott shrugged, "Yeah. It's like the full moon's turned everything up to ten."

"Oh," Stiles said, getting distracted with a sudden train of thought, "Can you pick up on other things? Like," He shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance, "I don't know... Desire?"

"What do you mean 'desire'?'" Scott asked him.

"Like.. Sexual desire." Stiles clarified with another shrug.

"Sexual desire?"

"Yeah, sexual desire-" Stiles repeated quickly, "Lust, passion, arousal."

Scott sighed and looked down the hallway. Stiles followed his gaze after a second to see the girl of his affections exiting the girl's bathroom and walking down the hallway toward her locker, looking as inhumanly beautiful as she always seemed to, "From Amber?"

"What?" Stiles scoffed a little too quickly, "No. In a broad, general sense. Can you determine sexual desire?"

"From Amber to you?" Scott clarified once more with an unimpressed raise of his eyebrows.

"Fine, yes. From Amber to me." Stiles admitted in frustration, "Look, I need to know if I actually have a chance, okay? I've been obsessing over her since the third frickin' grade and something sort of, almost, but didn't really happen last night and- I just need to know. I can't mess up our friendship for nothing, dude."

"Why don't you just ask her?" Scott questioned blankly.

"Ah, well. To save myself from utterly crushing humiliation. Thank you, Scott." Stiles told him sarcastically, "Okay, so please? Can you just go and ask her if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises, pheromones come out-"

"Alright. Fine." Scott said quickly, sighing in regret immediately.

Stiles watched Scott head down the hallway in the direction of their best friend with a nervous excitement building up inside of him. He bit down on a smile and bounced on his toes before rushing out toward the lacrosse field, where he would be practicing. Because he was on first frickin' line.

Coach Finstock was holding a team meeting before lacrosse practice, which usually meant either Greenberg had managed to catch some sort of contagious disease again or there was a change in the lineup — possibly both.

Amber stood just outside the locker room, her ear hovering close to the newly installed, closed metal door. She impatiently attempted to eavesdrop on what was being said, but she couldn't make out much more than the muffled sound of lockers being slammed shut. Eventually, the noise faded and she realized the meeting was being held outside of Coach's office, which was tucked away at the very back of the locker room.

Abandoning her post with a sigh, she wasted a few minutes of time in the restrooms, going to the bathroom and reapplying her tinted lip balm in the mirror.

In lieu of standing in the girl's room any longer, she eventually made her way back into the hallway to head to her locker to grab her jacket and backpack. She was only a few yards from her destination when she heard Scott's voice call out to her.

"Hey! Amber. Can we talk for a second?"

She turned around and caught sight of Scott approaching her locker, changed into the maroon bulk of his practice jersey and lacrosse padding.

"Yeah, of course," She agreed easily as he led her into an empty classroom before closing the door softly behind them, "What happened in the meeting, anyway? I tried to listen in through the door but I couldn't really hear anything."

Scott waved her off, "I made co-captain and Stiles is starting. That's not-"

"Oh my god!" She yelled excitedly, "Are you serious! That's amazing! Where's Stiles? I need to-"

"Just wait. That's not what I wanted to talk about." Scott interjected, guiding her back a few steps further into the room. Once he's pushed her to lean back against the teacher's desk at the front of the class, he released her arm.

"Okay, what? What's going on?" She asked immediately in concern, eyes raking over his face for some sort of clue.

"Do you, uh.. Do you know if Allison still likes me?" He asked sadly.

"Scott," She said softly, reaching out a hand to take his, "Of course she does."

"Really?"

The look of hope on Scott's face made all of the protective instincts she had for her best friend flare up and she rubbed her thumb softly along the back of Scott's hand.

"Yeah," She said softly, "I mean, give her some time. She's scared. We were all scared, right? And then you had to leave in order to protect us and I- maybe right now she's not necessarily grateful but-"

"Are you grateful?" He asked, the expression on his face changing into something Amber couldn't quite decipher.

"Huh?"

"You," Scott repeated, "Are you grateful?"

"You went out, knowing there was a possibility of facing the Alpha all alone, so you could get a key that would've saved us all.. I mean, duh. Of course I am, Scott." She reached her free hand up to rub the small space where his upper arm was exposed from his lacrosse pads.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, Scott had leaned into her space and brought his mouth down against hers. She pulled back slightly but the boy stepped closer and pressed her more firmly into the desk. He brought a hand up to tangle in the hair at the base of her neck to keep their mouths pressed together.

She turned her head to the side and took in a breath, "Scott-" She started, but Scott's lips covered hers again before she could finish.

Her heart began to beat harder in her chest with adrenaline as the wood of the desk pressed uncomfortably against the tops of her thighs. She pushed at her friend's shoulders but with his newly acquired supernatural strength, he didn't budge so much as an inch. She broke the seal of their lips once more but she only managed a shaky breath before he guided his mouth back over hers with the hand on the back of her neck. She pushed harder at his shoulders, leaning back over the desk as she did so in an attempt to put more space between them.

When Scott's free hand brushed against the hem of her skirt as it trailed up the outside of her thigh on the way to her hip, her stomach swooped anxiously.

She tightened her shaking right hand into a fist as his fingers curled around her waist. Leaning back a few more inches, she broke the seal of their mouths once again and swung her arm with as much force as she could manage in the limited space between their bodies. When her fist made contact with Scott's jaw, the boy took an immediate step back from her in surprise.

"What the hell!?" He yelled angrily, his hand rubbing at the spot where she'd hit him.

"Me!? Scott, what the fuck was that?" She yelled back, her voice hitching as she pulled a deep breath into her lungs.

"God, Amber. You're a tease, y'know that?" He glared at her and her eyes caught on the way his lips were smeared lightly with the bright pink tinge of her lip balm.

"I- What?" She asked quietly this time, her hands were shaking, and as the adrenaline from before faded, she noticed the sharp pain in the knuckles of her right hand.

"Don't act so innocent," Scott scoffed, "You're always touching and rubbing me. My arms, my neck? Don't even get me started on Stiles- You need to put out sometime, Amber, or you're gonna end up alone."

Scott took an angry breath and she couldn't understand the look of rage in his eyes. He was actually, genuinely, mad at her.

"Scott.." She started, voice wavering before realization suddenly washed over her, "It- It's the full moon, isn't it? The.. The moon's really affecting you this much already? We- We'll figure this out, okay, you just need to-"

Before she could continue, he had turned and stormed out of the classroom.

The silence that he left behind had her ears ringing as she remained unmoving, leaning against the desk at the front of the room. She watched the door for a full minute, half expecting Scott to walk back in with an explanation for some of what had just happened, but he didn't come.

Her hands were still shaking lightly when she lifted her right hand to inspect her sore knuckles. She found the joints reddening and beginning to swell already. She clenched her fingers into a tight fist and gasped at the sharp pain that radiated through her hand.

She took a couple of slow tentative steps forward before pushing out of the classroom. There were still people milling about in the hallway but she found that couldn't hear them over the heavy rushing of blood that filled her ears as her heart continued to pound.

Her backpack and jacket were both still in her locker, so that was where she headed.

When she got to her locker, her hands fumbled with the lock, the metal slipping repeatedly from between her shaking fingers. She huffed out a frustrated breath through her nose and willed herself to calm down.

The moon's power over Scott was only going to get stronger, and she needed to pull herself together if she wanted to help him.

After her padlock refused to open for the third time, she found herself pulling and tugging at it hopelessly. When the lock remained intact she felt heat prickle at her eyes as if she were about to cry.

"What, did you forget your combination?" A voice said beside her.

She exhaled sharply and looked up at where Lydia was standing beside her locker. When their eyes met, Lydia's face twisted into worry and she reached out to comfort the brunette.

"Hon, what-"

Amber flinched away from the outstretched hand before it could make contact with her arm and her next few breaths were shallow, unable to get a good lungful of air. The sounds around her were beginning to distort again and she felt entirely too warm, like she was going to explode out of her own skin if she got any hotter.

Her breathing was ragged and the longer she panicked, the fuzzier her surroundings became. She didn't know how much time passed, but when her breathing eventually began to slow, she felt cold water against her cheeks and flinched slightly in surprise.

"Hey," Lydia's voice said softly, placing a cold, wet hand to Amber's face again, "You coming back to me?"

Amber nodded as she slowly began to take in her surroundings. At some point, they'd moved into the girls restroom. The tap was running and every few seconds, Lydia moved her hand under the rush of cold water before patting her chilled hand to the flushed skin of Amber's face.

"Good," Lydia said, ripping off a piece of paper towel from the dispenser by the sink and drying her hands before dabbing at the wetness still on Amber's cheeks. "You gonna tell me what happened now? Did Stilinski do something?"

"It's stupid." Amber admitted quietly.

Lydia tutted at her and tilted her head thoughtfully, "If it upset you that much, it isn't stupid." She promised.

Amber shook her head, moving to place her right hand under the cold tap and sighing in relief at the cold water over her swollen knuckles. "Scott-" She started, clearing her throat when the words came out scratchy, "Scott kissed me-"

"What?" Lydia said in surprise, dropping her hands from Amber's face and looking at where the girl was gently cradling her hand under the tap.

"-And I had to punch him."

"You- You had to-"

"He wouldn't- I couldn't-" Amber faltered, unsure how to finish the sentence. She took a shaky breath, "Yeah, I.. I had to punch him."

"I'll kill him." Lydia stated, her eyes already clouded with dark thoughts.

"No! No, that's not-" She paused, unsure how to defend Scott without including werewolf drama, "It'll be fine, honest. He- He's just really torn up over Allison."

"If McCall was forcing himself on you-"

"Lydia, I would never let him anywhere near Allison if I thought he'd ever hurt her, okay?"

"But what about him hurting you?" Lydia frowned.

"I'm fine." Amber promised determinedly, pulling her hands from the water and drying them on a fresh strip of paper towel. She took a deep breath, turning away from the sink, "Honestly, I'm fine. I was just overwhelmed, okay? We should go get our stuff together before we miss the beginning of practice."

Stiles was practically oozing with anxiety as he waited outside on the players bench, watching for any sign of Scott or Amber heading toward the field. His knee jerked up and down violently and his heart was beating hard beneath his ribs as his nerves grew.

After several minutes, he caught sight of Scott and he barely contained the urge to wait until Scott was sitting on the bench before he questioned him, "Hey! What happened?" Stiles asked in nervous excitement.

"What?" Scott asked distractedly, readjusting the velcro on his glove and tightening it around his wrist.

"What do you mean, 'what?'" Stiles asked incredulously, "Did you ask her? Did she say anything? Did she say she liked me? Did she imply she liked me? Did she smell like she liked me?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure, dude." Scott told him unconvincingly.

The answer didn't instill much confidence and Stiles frowned at the lack of confirmation. He was about to ask Scott to clarify when the whistle blew for the start of practice and Stiles sighed, pulling on his helmet as he rose from his seat and grabbed his lacrosse stick.

They went out onto the field to begin drills, an offensive player charging on a couple of defense and shooting on goal. Stiles stood behind Scott in the line of offensive players as they waited their turn to run through the drill.

Scott seemed to be breathing heavily already, shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated movements, and Stiles frowned in confusion, leaning forward to speak over Scott's shoulder, "Dude, you okay? Look, I know we just got good news, and all, bit there's still seven hours until the full moon, okay? So-"

The whistle blew for Scott to take his turn and he only managed to run forward a few feet before he was thrown to the ground by the two defensive players. Stiles winced and watched his friend rise to his feet again angrily.

Coach blew his whistle and turned toward Stiles, "Who's next? Let's go!" He gestured for Stiles to take his turn, "You got a problem with that, Bilinski?"

"What?" He asked in surprise, readjusting his grip on his stick, "Uh, no-"

"Alright! You're up, big boy. Let's go!"

Stiles swallowed, readying himself to charge forward, but Scott made his way back to the front of the line and bashed into Stiles' chest with his lacrosse stick aggressively. Stiles stumbled while Scott pushed him back a step before he went to collect another ball to take his turn at the drill again.

"That's it, McCall!" Coach yelled, "That's the spirit! You gotta earn it! Earn it, McCall!"

Stiles' gaze drifted past the goal and he caught sight of Amber and Lydia making their way toward the field, heads bent close together in conversation. He watched the girls for only a few seconds before Coach Finstock's whistle blew softly and his attention was pulled to Scott as he ran forward again, rushing toward the defenders.

Scott quickly shoulder-checked both of the defensive players and sent them to the ground, continuing on without pause. Danny stepped forward out of the goal to block him next and Scott plowed into him violently, swinging his stick at the goalie's helmet and shoving him down to the grass before shooting the ball into the goal.

Danny went down hard and everyone immediately flocked over to check on him, worriedly shouting his name. Stiles watched Scott rip off his helmet as he took a few steps to the side and Stiles moved to follow him, pulling his own helmet off and shaking his head, flabbergasted at his friend's behavior.

"Dude," Stiles called out as he approached Scott, "What the hell are you doing?"

Scott scoffed, "What? He's twice the size of me."

Stiles glanced over to where the sport's paramedic was checking on their goalie's bleeding face before looking back at Scott beside him, "Yeah, but everybody likes Danny." Stiles told him, "Now everybody's gonna hate you."

"I don't care." Scott huffed in annoyance before storming away to stand at the back of their teammates.

Stiles stood stunned for a moment before he followed after him to stand where everybody was still huddled around Danny, even Lydia and Amber having rushed into the crowd at some point.

"What happened? Is he okay?" Amber was questioning, standing between Lydia and Jackson.

"Looks like he just has a bloody nose-" Jackson started before trailing off, staring at the girl beside him with an amused look of confusion.

"What?" Amber questioned, looking up at him.

"Callisto," Jackson chuckled quietly, "Your lipstick's smudged."

Stiles closed the final steps of distance between himself and the group and his eyes immediately gravitated to Amber. His chest tightened when he found the pretty pink tint that normally covered her lips was smeared around her mouth, the glossy shine smudged in a way that suggested she'd been thoroughly kissed. He felt his stomach drop sharply.

"Oh. Shit, I-" She reached up to blindly wipe at her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Her wide eyes cut sharply to where Scott was stepping up to stand beside her, "I, um. I don't know how-"

But Stiles was no longer listening to her embarrassed stammering. Instead, his eyes were caught on the shiny pink smudges that covered Scott's mouth. Stiles stared with a painful ache of betrayal as Scott's lips pulled into a smirk while watching the way Amber frantically tried to clean the makeup from her mouth.

Stiles looked between the two of them with a growing pit in his stomach. His jaw clenched and he was forced to take a small step back as his mind raced with an anger he’d never felt, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

Seven hours until the full moon was at its peak.

"Right. Now, you can't tell your father about this, because he'll kill me." Kate told Allison quietly, standing just behind her niece's shoulder. The older woman surveyed Allison's stance, legs shoulder-width apart, arms stretched out in front of her as she aimed at her target.

"Okay." Allison agreed with an excited grin.

"Okay," Kate agreed, nodding and clapping her hands together softly, "Well, what's our hapless victim's name?"

Allison kept her focus trained on keeping the little red dot in the center of her target's chest where it sat in the chair in front of her, "Mr. Bear."

"You named your teddy bear, 'Mr. Bear'?" Kate asked her in a teasing voice, "That's like, the worst teddy bear name in the world."

"I was five years old." Allison defended, eyes drifting to the side for a moment to glance at the woman beside her.

"Alright, well," Kate conceded, lifting a hand to gesture at the target sitting in the chair, "Just shoot your unimaginatively named bear and put it out of its misery."

Allison's smile spread and she fought a laugh before focusing on the task at hand, narrowing her eyes in concentration. She pulled the trigger and a cluster of wires shot out from the device in her hands, planting themselves into the teddy bear and shocking it with electricity with a repetitive low clicking noise.

Allison took a step back as she watched the bear smoke softly from its now-charred fur and her eyes burned with tears.

"See! Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Kate laughed, looking at the teddy bear gleefully, "See, if you'd had that the other night-" She seemed to suddenly catch sight of her niece and faltered, "Woah, now.. Wait a minute. I thought you wanted to learn how to do this, sweetie?"

Allison plopped down to sit on her bed with a wet laugh, "I just don't know what happened.

"With Scott?" Kate asked, sitting down beside her and watching as Allison nodded sadly, "Aw, listen. My gorgeous, young niece, you're gonna break hearts left and right, okay?" The tears in Allison's eyes broke free and she sniffled quietly as she listened, "And he was lucky to have gotten the tiny little taste of Allison Argent's world that he got."

"But, it just-" Allison took a shaky breath as more tears fell from her eyes, "It felt so right with him. And then he started acting so strange and now I don't know what to believe."

"Well, sweetie, he's a guy. You can't believe anything." Kate told her with a roll of her eyes.

Allison shook her head softly, "It's just, the whole thing with Derek Hale the other night. And Scott saying he didn't know him, but I know he does, and I-I saw them together so-"

"Woah, woah, wait. Hold on. Back up. Scott knows Derek." Kate repeated slowly, gauging Allison's face closely as she spoke, "Alleged killer, Derek. Are they friends?"

"No." Allison told her quietly. Suddenly nervous at her aunt's intensity, "I mean, at least that's what he said. But I know his best friend Amber was kind of seeing Derek at some point so maybe-"

"How about you tell me everything-" Kate interrupted, "That Scott and Amber have said about Derek."

"What do you mean, everything?" Allison asked anxiously, leaning away and rubbing her palms along her thighs over her jeans.

Kate pulled Allison back with a hand on her shoulder, bringing their faces close together, "I mean everything." She told her firmly.

Allison looked at her aunt's intense gaze and swallowed, taking a deep breath before beginning to spill all of her friend's secrets.

Stiles checked his phone once more, re-reading the text message Amber had sent him twenty minutes before.

have to take care of something first but I'll be there as soon as I can! promise!

He tucked the phone back into his pocket and fumbled with the duffel bag in his hand as he slid his key into the front door to the McCall house. He unlocked it and pushed the door open, stepping inside and turning around to close it behind him.

"Scott?" Ms. McCall's voice called out as she stepped into the entryway in fresh nurse's scrubs.

"Stiles." He corrected with an awkward laugh. He had assumed she'd have left for work by now.

Ms. McCall glanced down at the key still clutched between his fingers and she raised her eyebrows, "Key." She pointed out with a slow blink.

"Yeah." He smiled, holding the object up proudly, "I had one made." After the last time I got in without one and you almost bludgeoned Amber and I with a baseball bat, goes left unsaid.

"That doesn't surprise me." Ms. McCall nodded with a frown, "It scares me, but it doesn't surprise me."

Stiles dropped his duffle bag to the ground beside the door and it landed with the loud metallic tinkling of chains rubbing against one another. He grimaced as he looked up at Ms. McCall's suspicious face.

"What is that?" She asked him, looking down at the bag in question.

"Uh, school project." He responded quickly.

"Mm," The woman said, unconvinced. "Stiles, he's okay, right?"

"Who, Scott?" He questioned stupidly, "Yeah, totally-"

"He just... Doesn't talk to me that much, anymore." She admitted quietly, "At least not like he used to."

"Well he's, uh- Had a bit of a rough week." Stiles told her, sticking his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." She agreed, "Yeah, um. Okay. Uh, y'know, be careful tonight."

"You too." He nodded as he watched her pull her car keys out of her purse.

"Full moon." Ms. McCall clarified, nodding up at the ceiling.

Stiles flinched, "What?" He asked in surprise.

"Uh, there's a full moon tonight," Scott's mom laughed, "You should see how the E.R. gets. Brings out all the nut jobs."

"Oh.. Right."

"Y'know," Ms. McCall started, stepping closer as she approached the front door, "It's actually where they came up with the word 'lunatic'."

Stiles stood frozen in awe as she patted him on the shoulder and headed outside, closing the door behind her. With a shake of his head, he picked the duffel bag back up and raced up the stairs, hoping to set up before Scott got there.

He pushed open Scott's bedroom door and flicked on the light, his eyes catching on the figure sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

"Ho-Oh my god!" Stiles yelled, flinching back in surprise as he looked at where Scott was ominously sitting, "You scared the hell out of me. Your mom said you weren't home yet."

Stiles walked deeper into the room and dropped his bag loudly to the floor again, this time in front of Scott's feet.

"I came in through the window." Scott told him blankly, unmoving from his armchair in the corner.

"Okay..." Stiles said slowly, watching his friend silently for a few seconds before squatting down in front of him and beginning to unzip the bag, "Uh, well. Let's get this set up. I want you to see what Amber and I bought the other day."

"I'm fine." Scott told him emotionlessly.

Stiles looked up at him in surprise as he unzipped the bag the rest of the way.

"I'm just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight." Scott continued.

"You sure about that?" Stiles asked doubtfully, raising his eyebrows and gesturing at Scott's face, "Because you got this kinda serial killer look going on in your eyes.. And I'm hoping it's the full moon taking effect 'cause it's really starting to freak me out."

"I'm fine." Scott told him slowly, "You should go now."

Stiles looked at his friend for a moment, entirely unconvinced, "Alright, I'll leave." He leaned back and his eyes dropped down to the contents of his duffle bag again. He reached into the bag for a moment, fingers drifting over against the copious rungs of smooth metal before tapping his other hand against the fabric on the outside with a sigh, "Well, look, would you at least look in the bag and see what we bought? Y'know, maybe you use it, maybe you don't.. Sound good?"

Scott leaned forward in his chair slowly as he stood, his eyes not leaving Stiles until he had taken several slow steps and knelt down directly over the bag. Scott reached a hand inside and pulled out a fistful of metal chains, lifting it out and examining it with a blank stare.

"You think I'm gonna let you guys put these on and chain me up like a dog?" Scott asked coldly before dropping the chain back into the bag.

Stiles sighed, "Actually, no."

He grabbed Scott's left wrist and handcuffed him to the radiator on the wall in one swift move, jumping back out of the way as Scott reached for him angrily.

"What the hell are you doing!" Scott yelled, kneeling on the floor and pulling at the handcuffs.

"I'm protecting you from yourself." Stiles said, looking down at his friend determinedly, "And giving you some payback." He admitted, watching as Scott slowly turned to glare up at him, "For making out with Amber."

Scott seethe in anger and Stiles smiled in satisfaction before turning to leave the room.

"Stiles!" Scott growled after him, continuing to pull loudly at the metal handcuffs against the radiator.

Stiles went downstairs and collected a bottle of water from the fridge and a old metal bowl from the cupboard beneath the sink. He carried his haul back upstairs, pouring some of the water into the bowl as he walked.

"I brought you some water." Stiles announced, holding up the plastic bottle in display before making a show of pouring the rest of the contents into the dog food bowl in his other hand.

He placed the bowl down on the floor in front of Scott, satisfied by the scowl on his face and returning his glare before turning to leave the room. He flinched at the impact of the cold water and lightweight metal against his shoulder when Scott threw the bowl at his retreating back.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Scott screamed angrily.

Stiles took a deep breath, glaring at the wall in the hallway for a few seconds before back spinning around to face his friend.

"You kissed her, Scott!" Stiles finally yelled, "Okay? You kissed Amber. That's my- That's like the one girl that I ever-!" He huffed angrily through his nose before continuing, "And you know? The past three hours I've been thinking, it's probably just the full moon, y'know? He doesn't even know what he's doing and tomorrow he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch. A fucking unbelievable piece of crap friend!"

Stiles took a much needed breath after his rant and Scott lifted his head with a dark look.

"She kissed me." Scott told him with a devilish grin.

Stiles deflated slightly, his stomach filling with a hollow sadness at the words. He swallowed and clenched his jaw, gearing himself up to respond when someone else spoke first.

"What?" A soft voice cut in from behind him.

Amber waited until the last possible minute to show Jason her bruising hand. He was pulling on his shoes to head into the fire station when she slowly approached, hiding her right hand behind her back.

"Hey, um.." She started slowly, "I have a first aid question."

Her brother looked up at her with thinly veiled suspicion before finishing his shoe laces and standing upright, "Okay." He said slowly.

She sighed, "So, I hurt my knuckles earlier.. It doesn't hurt that bad anymore, but I'd feel really stupid if I actually, like, fractured something and didn't ask you to look at it."

Jason sighed and held out his hand patiently. Once she laid her hand in his waiting palm he brought it up to his face to examine it closely, gingerly prodding at her knuckles and feeling around the bones.

She winced at the gentle touches to her sensitive knuckles but didn't pull away.

"What did you do, now?" He asked softly, turning her hand as he checked the swelling.

"I, uh, punched a brick wall." She explained, not feeling inclined to mention that said brick wall was named Scott. At his sharp look she continued, "It was an accident. I don't just go around punching walls."

He sighed and let her remove her hand from his grip, "Nothing's broken. You should ice it tonight and keep it elevated when you can." He told her easily as he pulled on his jacket, "Holding a pen at school is gonna suck, but it should heal up in a couple days."

"Okay." She nodded gratefully, examining her red knuckles herself for a moment.

"Do me a favor and try not to get yourself seriously injured tonight? Maybe stay in and watch a movie and stay out of trouble." He asked weakly.

"Stiles and I are going over to Scott's to work in a project." She told him.

He sighed and nodded as he pulled open the front door, "Be good. Please. I love you."

"Love you."

She dashed upstairs after he left and changed into a pair of jeans, pulling off her knit sweater and swapping it out for a cutoff crewneck. She checked the time stamp on the text she'd sent to Stiles before she'd spoken to her brother and saw that it had been nearly ten minutes already.

With a sigh, she raced downstairs and grabbed her keys before heading over to the McCall house, hoping she wouldn't be too late to help Stiles and Scott get everything set up.

She parked her car at the end of the driveway and jogged up to the front door. Stiles had promised to leave it unlocked for her and she was relieved to find that it swung open easily when she turned the knob.

The moment she stepped into the house, Amber could hear Stiles's raised voice upstairs, but it wasn't until she reached the top of the staircase that she was able to make out the words he was shouting.

"-I've been thinking, it's probably just the full moon, y'know? He doesn't even know what he's doing and tomorrow he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch. A fucking unbelievable piece of crap friend!"

She had moved to stand in the doorway behind Stiles and hesitated as she took in the way that Scott wasn't chained as they had originally intended, but instead had just one wrist cuffed to the metal heater beneath the window.

She watched Scott lift his head with a dark look, his eyes drifting over to her briefly before focusing on Stiles, "She kissed me."

"What?" She said in disbelief before taking a couple of steps forward and coming up to stand beside Stiles.

Scott grinned devilishly and looked between them, "She made the first move, Stiles." He said, "You should've seen it."

She immediately thought back to the way she'd been trying to comfort her friend just before he'd kissed her and she felt her eyes prickle with frustrated tears as she became suddenly self-conscious. Scrunching her face up in annoyance at her own emotions, she huffed a breath through her nose. When she risked a glance over at Stiles, she found him looking between them, unsure.

"You're being an asshole, Scott." She told him quietly.

"Oh, yeah? Is that what you're into, then?" Scott quipped back quickly before turning his attention on Stiles again, "She would've done a lot more too, man. You should've seen the way she had her hands all over me."

Amber was seething in anger and Stiles took a shaky breath beside her. His hand dropped onto her shoulder and he pulled her back gently as he guided her out of the room without a word.

"She would've done anything I wanted, Stiles!" Scott called out to their backs, "Anything!"

They stepped to the side once they got into the hallway to slip out of view of the doorway and Amber took a deep breath, "Has he been like that since you got here?" She asked, her eyes drifting back toward the bedroom.

"Yeah, pretty much," Stiles told her, "You missed the truly terrifying way he was just sitting by himself in the dark and also the murdery look he gave me when he saw the chains but- Yeah, pretty much like this and slowly getting worse."

She sighed in frustration, bringing her fingers up to tangle in her hair and leaning back against the wall.

"Hey, wait-" Stiles said, his eyes catching on her right hand, "What happened there?" He questioned, pointing to the redness on her raw knuckles.

She looked at him in confusion for a second before she saw that he was gesturing toward her injured hand. She sighed again and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"Oh, that." She laughed humorlessly, watching as Stiles slid down to sit beside her in the hallway, "I punched a werewolf in the face."

"Who, Scott?" He asked quickly. She nodded and he pulled her hand toward him gently to look at her knuckles, "I'm sure he deserved it. I know I'd like to punch him right now.. But why'd you punch Scott?"

She tilted her head against the wall to look over at him as he frowned at the red swelling on the back of her hand, "'Cause he kissed me."

Stiles raised his eyebrows, "Noted. Kiss Amber, get punched."

She snorted softly, lips pulling into a frown as she shook her head, "It wasn't like that," She started, unsure how much she wanted to tell him, "He was really upset about Allison.. Asked if she still liked him and I told him she was just scared, y'know? She doesn't understand why he left. She doesn't understand that he did it to protect us from the Alpha and I-" She sighed and turned to look at the hardwood floor with a frown, "I was holding his hand. And- and rubbing his arm. And I told him I was really grateful for what he did.. I guess it was stupid. He thought-"

"Hey, no. Amber, stop it." Stiles said firmly, "I don't care what you said or did, alright? Scott should've never kissed you. Like, ever. Seriously, never. I mean, he knows..."

"He knows what?" She asked quietly when Stiles' voice faded out.

He shook his head, "Nothing. He just- He never should've kissed you."

"Agreed." She told him, "D'you think the full moon is gonna be like this every time? Forever?"

"God, I hope not." He said, thumping his head back against the wall once and closing his eyes.

She tilted her head to the side to rest on his shoulder and they settled into silence for a few minutes. Though they weren't speaking, the house wasn't quiet. It was instead filled with the sounds of Scott determinedly pulling at the metal of his handcuffs and yelling angrily at them through the closed bedroom door.

Scott stopped shouting for a few minutes, still tugging quietly the handcuffs with a quiet sound of metal clinking.

"Guys?" Scott's voice called out gently, "Please let me out."

Amber thumped her head back against the wall once and reached her left hand across her body to grab Stiles' as Scott continued softly.

"It's the full moon, I swear." Scott pleaded weakly, "You know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose."

Stiles tilted his head to look over at her and she shook her head resolutely, pinching her lips together in silence.

"Please, you guys. Let me out. It's starting to hurt." Scott begged quietly, pulling at his handcuffs again.

Amber took in a shaky breath at his words and this time it was Stiles who shook his head at her before squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"It's not like the first time.. It's the full moon, it's Allison breaking up with me-" Scott explained, "I know that it's not just 'taking a break'. She broke up with me. And it's killing me." He told them slowly, "I feel completely hopeless.. Just, please let me out."

"We can't." Stiles spoke softly, to Scott or herself, Amber wasn't entirely sure.

"No, no-" Scott began to mumble frantically before he screamed out loudly in what sounded like pain.

Amber moved to stand instantly but Stiles pulled her back down beside him as Scott continued to scream.

Amber released Stiles' hand to raise her own to her ears, palms pressed tightly over her hair as she tried weakly to block out the loud screams coming from their best friend. Her stomach turned sickeningly and she turned sideways, curling an arm around Stiles' leg and dropping her head down to rest against his knee. The two of them listened to Scott's pained screaming for a long minute, eventually giving way into a low growl before cutting off all together.

The sudden silence rang eerily through the house but this time when Amber rose to her feet, Stiles didn't stop her and instead followed suit. They both crept slowly toward the bedroom, looking between the door and each other.

"Scott?" Amber called out quietly. There was no response and her heart thumped nervously in her chest.

"Scott? Are you okay?" Stiles asked loudly, his hand reaching for the doorknob.

When the bedroom door swung open, Scott was no where to be seen. The handcuffs lay in a broken heap next to the radiator, a small trail of blood beside them. The window had been pushed open wide and more blood trailed along the windowsill and led outside.

"Oh, fuck." Amber said quietly, eyes wide. She stared distractedly at the space where Scott had been a few minutes before and was finally pulled out of her thoughts when Stiles tugged her back by her wrist to leave.

They stumbled as they ran down the stairs and out of the house, sliding into the Jeep parked at the top of the driveway.

"Where would he have gone?" Stiles asked frantically, starting the vehicle and backing out of the driveway.

"I-I don't know!" Amber said as she buckled her seatbelt with shaking hands, "Allison's house? The preserve?"

"I don't think even wolfy Scott is stupid enough to go to a hunter's house on a full moon." He told her logically, turning off of Scott's street.

"Okay, so, the preserve then?"

He shrugged at her but took the next turn toward the edge of town anyway. They drove too fast than was really considered safe on the winding roads that led out to the preserve and ten minutes later, they were coming up on the lot they'd parked in the night before.

"Stiles-" Amber leaned forward in her seat, pointing out the scene at the edge of the forest.

There were red and blue flashing lights shining between the trees and Stiles turned sharply into the lot. He put the car in park and threw himself from the Jeep, leaving the driver's side door hanging open behind him.

Amber climbed around the front of the car and followed after him only a second later, tumbling from the vehicle and rushing to stand behind Stiles.

"Dad?" He called out in the throng of officers at the scene.

One officer shrugged unhelpfully at him and the others all continued on with what they were doing, paying no attention to the two teens who had just arrived at the scene.

"Dad!" Stiles called out again, more urgently.

She reached a hand out to his arm, "Stiles, I'm sure he's-"

"Has anyone seen my dad?" He yelled.

The people around them all shied back from his panicked question but gave no answer. Amber was about to reassure him again when a stretcher was rolled past them with a white sheet laid out over the top of what was quite clearly a dead body.

The look on Stiles' face was one of pure horror and she wanted desperately to reassure him that it wasn't his dad underneath, but she was too afraid to be wrong. Stiles began to reach forward to expose the person beneath the cloth and she did nothing to stop him.

The stretcher hit one of the potholes as it rolled along the parking lot and it jostled violently. An arm from the victim fell limply from beneath the sheet and the badly burnt flesh made the both of them falter for a second.

"Stiles." A familiar voice called out from just a couple of feet away and both Stiles and Amber flinched in surprise as they turned, "What're you kids doin' here?" Sheriff Stilinski asked them with a shake of his head.

Stiles sagged in relief and pulling his dad into a tight hug. The Sheriff looked at Amber over his son's shoulder in confusion but patted him on the back and returned his son's embrace.

When Stiles stepped back after a long moment, Amber reached forward to tangle their fingers together and Stiles gave her hand a squeeze as he took a steadying breath.

"Now, circling back to my initial question," The Sheriff looked between them and crossed his arms, "What are you both doing here?"

"Uh-" Stiles fumbled for a lie.

"We were listening to the police scanner again." Amber said quickly, nodding in mock shame at the Sheriff's disappointed look, "Yeah. And we got nervous, what with a murderer on the loose, and Stiles wanted to check that you were okay."

The Sheriff looked at his son, who was nodding along with her story, and shook his head, "Next time, feel free to call me." He told Stiles, "Now go home. Both of you."

Stiles looked at where the body was being lifted into the ambulance, "W- But-"

"Now." The Sheriff demanded firmly.

Stiles sighed and pulled Amber back to the Jeep. They climbed in and she looked across the cab at him expectantly.

"Well, what now?" She asked.

Stiles drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in thought, "We can't just drive around all night every full moon looking for any sign of Scott." He huffed, "I don't- I don't know what to do."

"What if we split up?" She asked as he pulled back out of the lot, "I'll wait at Scott's incase he finds his way home like almost runaway dogs do-" Stiles snorted and she carried on, "You drive around for a little while. And if neither one of us finds anything, we'll decide from there."

He scrunched his face up unhappily at the thought of splitting up and contemplated her offer for a long minute before nodding reluctantly.

"Fine." He agreed, "But you call me the second you see him. As in, before making contact, y'know? Do not approach the rabid dog and all that."

"Deal." She agreed, "But the same goes for you."

"Deal."

Stiles dropped her off at the end of the driveway before taking off again in search of Scott.

She walked up the driveway slowly and was nearly to the front door when it pulled open and her eyes snapped up to the person exiting the house as they closed the door behind themselves.

"Derek!" She breathed out, rushing toward him.

He looked up at her for only a second before she had jumped up onto her toes and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and shoulders, her whole body suddenly trembling. She hugged him tight and took a shaky breath, squeezing his shoulders softly through his leather jacket with the tips of her fingers to be sure he was real.

After a long moment, Derek reached an arm up around her back to pat her shoulder blade gently and she inhaled sharply in what sounded almost like a sob. She released him and dropped back down to the ground, taking a small step back not giving the action a single thought before she was punching him angrily in the shoulder.

"Ow, fuck!" She gasped, shaking out her aching hand and glaring at him when he looked at her in worried confusion.

"What-"

"No, no- Don't even think about it. I've been so worried about you and you just- You just show up out of nowhere, completely fine?" She ranted, peeking down at her sore knuckles for only a second before turning her attention back on Derek, "Where have you been? How long have you been healed? How did you heal?"

He blinked, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket, "It took a couple days to heal completely. Wounds from an Alpha take longer. Especially life-threatening ones."

"Life threaten-" She repeated under her breath, "That's exactly my point! We thought you might be dead. I thought- I thought either the Alpha took your body or you just dragged yourself off somewhere to die." She explained, voice shaky with sudden tears.

"I didn't die." He told her unhelpfully, shifting uncomfortably on his feet at her show of emotion.

"Why didn't you let me know you were okay?" She asked quietly.

Derek shrugged, "I didn't think it mattered."

"Didn't think it mattered whether you told me you were okay or didn't think it mattered if you died?" She questioned.

Derek's eyebrows furrowed for a moment in thought before he shrugged again.

She sniffled and stepped forward once more without hesitation, invading his personal space all over again, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her face in his chest. His arms came up to softly wrap around her with less hesitation this time around, settling over her shoulders.

"I thought you were dead and it was horrible and awful and I'm so glad that you're not." She sniffled into his shoulder.

Derek patted her shoulder gently, "I-" He paused for a second before continuing, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was alive."

She nodded against his shoulder, "I forgive you." She mumbled into his jacket before leaning back and giving him a serious look, "But if you do it again I'll find a way to kill you myself. Got it?"

Derek scoffed at the threat as he stepped back from her, rolling his eyes. She raised her eyebrows expectantly and he rolled them again but nodded.

"Okay, good." She said, looking up at the house behind him, "Any chance Scott's in there?" She asked nervously.

"Yeah, I dragged him home right before you got here." He told her.

"Cool." She acknowledged, pulling out her phone to text Stiles and dropping down to sit on the front stoop to wait.

Derek watched her in confusion for a moment when she slid her phone back into her pocket but remained seated outside.

"You're not going in?" He asked, nodding to the front door behind her.

She shook her head, "I've exceeded my allotted Solo Scott Time for this full moon." She told him, lifting her bruising right hand in display.

"Scott hurt your hand?" Derek questioned immediately.

She nodded with a shrug, "Yeah, his face did. When I punched him."

Derek's anger seemed to melt away and he blinked in amused surprise, "You punched Scott in the face?"

"Yep."

He shook his head with a pleased smile on his face before turning his head toward the street with a nod, "I'm gonna get going."

"Okay." She leaned back against the door, watching him turn to go and calling out to his retreating form, "Be safe! It's a full moon tonight, y'know. Some people say that werewolves run amuck on the full moon. Stirring up trouble 'n such."

Derek snorted as he walked away, "So I've heard."