#and I might end up splitting the chapter so it ends right after the scene because otherwise it'll take longer to get the whole thing out

[bambiraptorx]

if you're wondering how writing Minor Interference is going. I've never really written a fight scene before and I'm struggling lol (unfortunately writing is hard). I keep writing stuff that isn't ch 13 so I don't have to write ch 13 if that tells you anything

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 8: The Cabin: Day 4 (pt.1)

Summary: You try to talk to Soap about yesterday. Key word is try.

Word Count: 4,515

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, mentions of sex, hurtful language

A/N: Another two parter! Enjoy!! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you wish 🫶🏻 also, see the end of the chapter for Soap’s drawing

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Bitter Allies • Part 8

The next morning, the pain in your chest is still present. Your heart feels heavy, weighed down by confusion and a little regret. The dull ache between your legs is a lingering echo of Soap's rough touch that had split you in half. A constant reminder of last night. You feel raw, exposed, and the desire to talk to Soap about what happened is overwhelming now. As daunting as it seems, you know this conversation is unavoidable. It needs to happen sooner or later.

Pulling yourself upright in bed, you look to Soap’s side of the room and see that he’s gone. You hope for once that he’s around and hasn’t left for a morning run or anything. You don’t know if you can handle waiting for him to get back. Getting changed into the last fully clean pair of clothes you have, you go to look for the Scot.

As you walk into the kitchen, you’re naturally drawn to look out the window. Your heart leaps when you see him. He’d sitting by the same tree he had a couple days ago, looking out towards the water. Taking a deep breath, gathering up your courage, you exit the cabin. The morning air is cool against your skin, but it does little to soothe your nerves.

Each step you take towards him makes your heart beat faster, the anxiety building with every stride. You’re so nervous to talk to him, afraid of how this interaction might go. You had a pretty bad track record so far of turning civil conversations into heated arguments.

As you get closer, you come to realize he has one of his black books with him. It’s opened up, and it looks like he’s sketching something. His eyes dart from between the lake in front of him to his book, pausing between his strokes when he does.

He either doesn’t hear you or chooses not to acknowledge you until you’re about halfway to him. You can see him glance a little over his shoulder as you draw near, but he never fully turns his head to look at you. His gaze just goes back to his book. Even when you’re finally right next to him, he still doesn’t say anything or even look up at you.

“Can I sit with you for a bit?” You ask before you lose your courage and run back to the cabin.

Soap is silent for a couple seconds, and for a moment, you’re worried he’s not going to say anything to you. There’s a pang in your chest at that thought, but Soap finally answers after a moment.

“Sure.” He sighs, seeming to know exactly what you are here for. Then again, why else would you ever come to talk to him?

Slowly, you move to sit beside him. It’s peaceful outside, a stark contrast to how you’re feeling. Not really knowing how you want to start this conversation, you instead look at the sketch he’s currently working on.

“I didn’t know you liked to draw.” You say, watching as he carefully makes each line on the paper. He’s drawing the scene of the lake. Using one of his fingers, he smudges a line he’s just made, darkening his finger with the lead of his pencil.

“It helps pass the time. Takes my mind off stuff.” He shrugs, still offering his full attention to his drawing.

“It looks nice. You’re really good at drawing.”

And you’re being genuine. You’re surprised to say that Soap is really good at drawing. He’s about halfway through sketching the landscape, and it looks beautiful so far. Despite your compliment though, Soap sighs, taking his pencil off the drawing and finally looking at you.

“What do you want?” He asks, making you shy away slightly. You don’t want him thinking your compliment was just empty words.

“I was being serious. Your drawing is really nice. You’re really talented.”

Soap sighs again, glancing back down to his artwork, but not drawing anymore. “Thanks. But I know you’re not out here cause you want to watch me draw. So get to it.”

You’re silent for a long time, watching the side of his face. You were out here to talk to him about last night, but you were nervous. You wanted to ease into it, not just dive right in. Though with Soap outing you on your intentions, you don’t really have a choice now.

“I just wanted to talk to you about last night…” You say slowly.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He answers quickly, making you frown. Of course there was something to talk about. How could he say that?

“Soap, we… we had sex. How is that not something to talk about?”

“Lots of people have sex, States.” He shrugs. You begin to nervously pick at your nails.

“So it didn’t mean anything?” You find yourself asking.

You don’t know what you want his answer to be. You should want him to say it didn’t mean anything. It was just sex and nothing more. But a part of you doesn’t want him to say that. Maybe if it meant something then you wouldn’t regret it so much? Or maybe you really just wanted it to have meant something.

“Don’t you fucking dare do that.”

“Do what?” You frown.

“Don’t you start telling me this meant something to you. That you think this fixes anything between us.”

“It… it didn’t, I don’t. I mean, I’m just sorting through it- I don’t know.” You say quickly, caught off guard by what he said.

“Fucking Christ…” Soap mutters, burying his face into his hands as you begin to feel flustered.

“Can you just-! Just answer my question! So what we did last night didn’t mean anything?”

Soap groans, hitting his head against the back of the tree slightly. “Nope. It was just sex. Something to get rid of all the tension for a bit. That’s it.”

His answer hurts you a lot more than you expect. The sting of his words leaves you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to process his easy dismissal. “Ok.. well, good.” You find yourself saying, looking out across the waters. It’s silent for a few moments before Soap breaks it.

“Hey, by the way, you’re not going to get pregnant, are you? You are on birth control right?” He looks over to you, and you’re staring straight ahead, a blank expression on your face. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, no we’re fine. I’ve got a birth control implant.”

You weren’t on birth control for the birth control part of it. It was mostly to help with a hormone imbalance to make your menstrual cycle more regular. But the birth control part of it was nice too for situations like when your teammate randomly decides to fuck you senseless.

Soap nods, his gaze shifting back to his sketchbook. He seems to visibly relax knowing there wasn’t a chance of you being pregnant. “Good. Don’t have to worry about that. Let’s just move on then, alright? What we did last night doesn’t change anything.”

You bite the insight of your lip. “How can you say it doesn’t change anything?” It could be meaningless sex, but to say it didn’t change anything? That was ridiculous.

Soap pauses, his pencil hovering above the page. He doesn't look up, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. "Because it doesn’t," he says, his voice tight. "We had sex. It’s over. We move on."

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “How can you just brush it off like it’s nothing."

He finally sets his pencil down, meeting your gaze with a hard stare. "What do you want me to say, States? That it meant something? That it was special? It wasn’t. It was a mistake if anything.”

You hesitate, your emotions a tangled mess. "I don’t know… It just doesn’t feel like it was nothing."

He sighs heavily, closing his sketchbook. "Look, it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. We both needed an outlet, and it happened. But that’s all it was.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I just… Can I ask you something else?” You ask softly. There was still so much you wanted to get answers to.

Soap gives you a hard stare, but he eventually caves. “Sure. Go ahead.” Soap sighs, turning his gaze to look out at the lake. He clearly doesn’t want to keep talking about this with you, but he lets you continue anyway.

“I need to understand. Why did you kiss me? Why now, after everything?”

Soap’s jaw clenches slightly, you make out the slight pulse in his jaw when he does. “Because I needed to blow off some steam. Because we were both there, and it was convenient. Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters!” You snap, your voice rising. “It matters because I need to know if this was just some spur-of-the-moment decision for you or if there’s something more to it.”

Soap sighs heavily, running a hand over his face in annoyance. “States,” he says, his tone softer but still firm. You can he’s trying to keep his cool. “I don’t have a better answer for you. It was just sex. That’s all it was. It was just a way to release some tension. There’s no hidden meaning behind it. No deeper nothing. It’s better if we just forget it and move on.”

“So that’s it?” You manage to say, voice trembling slightly. “We just go back to hating each other?”

Soap’s eyes meet yours. There’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—but it’s gone too quickly to be sure. “Yes, we go back to the way things were, and we forget this ever happened. It’s better that way.”

“How can we just act like nothing happened?”

“We just go about our lives like we did before we fucked. It’s not that hard, States.”

You bite your lip, fighting back tears. “Maybe for you!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shite. You’re a soldier. You know how to compartmentalize. Do it.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “That’s not fair, Soap. You can’t just ignore my feelings because it’s easier for you.”

“I’m not ignoring your feelings! I’m trying not to make things more complicated than they need to be!”

“It’s already complicated! My whole relationship with you is complicated. And now I don’t know what the hell to do! People who hate each other don’t fuck each other.”

“I don’t know what to fucking tell you! I was angry, things have been tense between us for a long time, I wanted to release that tension. So I did. It wasn’t anything. Just a build up of too much tension that needed to be released. And it helped. The sex was good, but that’s all it was. If you can’t wrap your head around that, then that’s your problem, not mine,” he says coldly. “I’ve said what I needed to say. If you can’t move on, that’s on you.”

He picks up his sketchbook up off the ground and stands up, effectively ending the conversation. You continue to sit there, feeling more lost and confused than ever. The weight of his words hung heavily on your heart. You just had to forget it… Move on and act like it hadn’t happened. You regretted it, you wished it hadn’t happened.

Then why couldn’t you let it go?

Soap was more than willing to act like it was nothing. To go back to your normal lives. Though maybe the problem was that you didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to go back to the way things were. Where you fought constantly and were always at each other’s throats. Maybe you hoped that sex meant Soap didn’t hate you after all. It certainly felt like he despised you even more now though.

The more you thought about it, the more angry you got. He kissed you, he was the one who’d had sex with you, he started all of this. All with the intention of just making himself feel better. No regard for how it might affect you. He really hated you that much? And he wouldn’t even tell you why he felt the way that he did. If you had some explanation, some reason, maybe it’d make it better to accept it, but he gave you nothing.

Feeling a new fire ignite inside you, one that didn’t want to go back, or at least wanted answers as to why Soap resented you, you get up and march after him. He’d been dodging the question every time you asked, but not anymore. If things were going to go back to how they were, you were going to know why he felt the way he did.

By the time you’re up, Soap is already walking up the steps of the porch and heading inside. You follow after him, trying to get to him before he tries to leave again or before you lose the nerve to talk with him.

You push the door of the cabin open and step inside, scanning the small space for him. He’s in the bedroom, tucking his journal away as you walk up to the doorway. As soon as Soap realizes you’re back, a sour look crosses his face.

“Fucking hell, what do you want? We’re done talking about last night.” He says firmly, going back to doing whatever it was he came in here to do.

“No we’re not.” You say as firmly as you can. It comes out a little shaky though. “If last night changes nothing, and if it meant nothing, if we have to just go back hating each other-“

“There is no ‘going back’ to hating each other. We always have, nothing ever changed that.” Soap interrupts, just stabbing another knife into your chest.

“Don’t interrupt me! If you’re going to hate me, that’s fine. But I want to know why you do.”

Soap visibly gets uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing. “I already told you, I don’t need to explain myself.”

“You kind of do. You can't just keep pushing me away, Soap. If you really hate me that much, at least have the decency to tell me why."

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Yes you are! I deserve to know why you hate me. After everything you did yesterday, I deserve some answers.”

He clenches his jaw, looking away for a moment before finally meeting your gaze again. "Fine. You want to know why? Because you're always so damn stubborn, always in my face, challenging me, questioning everything I do."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. “So, you hate me because I stand up to you? Because I won't just roll over and let you constantly talk shit to me?”

“Yep.” He answers shortly, and you know he’s lying. Or at least not telling you everything.

“Bullshit. I didn’t start doing any of that to you for a long time. You were awful to me since I stepped foot on base. From our first introduction to each other. Was there someone else you wanted instead of me on the Task Force? Do you not like a girl joining your little group? Are you afraid I’m going to out perform you? Is it because the guys like me, and you can’t stand that?”

“We didn’t need you on our team! We were fine before you came along and ruined the entire dynamic.”

“You are literally the only one who thinks that!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not the first time I’ve seen a whole fucking unit crumble because no one wanted to believe me! I will not let you come in and tear everything apart!”

“I’m not going to tear you guys apart! I want to be on this team! I want to be with Price and Gaz and Ghost, and even you!”

“Yeah that’s what Annette said too!”

“Who’s Annette?” You ask, and Soap instantly closes himself off. He’s said too much. Got too caught up in the heat of the moment, slipped up, and revealed something to you he didn’t want to.

“She’s no one.” He says harshly before quickly continuing. “Look, you want to know why I fucking hate everything about you, States?” Soap is slowly approaching you, cornering you against the doorframe. “Oh, where to even start. You’re stubborn. You can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business. You’re annoying as hell. You’re an absolute shite soldier, one I can’t trust to have my back on the field. You’re reckless, you’re a liability, and you have no clue what it means to be part of a team. And don’t get me started on your pathetic attempts to prove yourself. You’re just a suck up to Price and the others. It’s embarrassing. You think you’re tough? You’re a joke. Every time you open your mouth, I want to walk the other way. You’re nothing but a thorn in my side, and I wish you’d never been assigned to this team. You’re weak, you’re useless, and you’re a bloody nuisance. That’s why I hate you, States. Because you’re not worth the dirt on my boots.”

You’re almost in tears as he finishes up. Your jaw is clenched tight to keep it from trembling, and you’re gripping the wood on the door frame so tightly you’re afraid it’s going to rip off. Soap has been a jerk to you in the past, but he’s never been this raw with his words before. At least you finally had an answer. One that felt real. Genuine. And shit, did it hurt.

“We’ve got three more fucking days together, States. Don’t speak to me again during that time. Understand?”

He’s leaning over you, face far too close for comfort. All you can do is nod your head, afraid that opening your mouth is going to make you break down. Soap huffs, his warm breath against your cheek before he pulls away.

“Going out for bit. Gonna be hours. Just letting you know so you don’t worry.” He tells you mockingly before leaving you against the doorframe. You listen for the sound of the cabin door closing before you sink to the ground, sobbing into your knees as you hug them close to you.

***

As Soap leaves the cabin, he can hear you crying inside. Despite all the horrible things he just said, after expressing how much he hated you, his heart tightens in his chest. It wasn’t that he liked saying those things… hell, he wasn’t even sure he meant half of those things anymore. But he refused to let you in. He couldn’t. And you just won’t understand that.

It was all just a mess. Truth was, things had changed yesterday when he had sex with you. The more time he spent thinking about it, the more he realized Ghost was right. He really did just need to fuck you and get it out of his system. For the split second that all the tension was resolved, he truly felt an attraction towards you.

And that scared him.

He hadn’t been expecting that. He thought you’d simply fuck and then have a breather for a moment. He didn’t expect to be rushed with this sudden urge to actually want to be with you.

These next three days couldn’t go by faster. He wanted this hell to be over. This torment to just end. He yearned to go back to how things were before he came here with you. Even if it’d been complicated before, it was better than how complicated it was now.

He listens to your sobs a moment more before shaking his head and heading for the woods. If he stayed a second longer, he was afraid he’d run back to you and do something he was going to regret.

***

You sat on the floor and cried for what felt like hours. Your eyes burned from how many tears had been leaking from them. The skin your around eyes was sore from how often you’d wiped at them, and your last clean shirt was now soiled with tears and snot. It wasn’t pretty…

After a few hours, you really couldn’t cry anymore. You didn’t think it was possible, but you’re sure you’ve run out of tears. You feel disgusting. Soap’s words played on repeat over and over in your head, and you’re beginning to believe them.

Liability… untrustworthy… embarrassing… weak… useless…

You didn’t want to be those things. And you know Ghost, Price, or Gaz would be so fast to dismiss them and reassure you that you weren’t. But they weren’t here, and they couldn’t tell you those things. The only person you had was Soap.

At some point, you decide you’ve had enough of sitting on the hard wood floor. You were a soldier. You know how to pull yourself together and keep going. So that’s what you were going to do. The first thing you were going to do was take a bath. Wash away any remnants of Soap. Wash away the things he’s said to you, the grim, the pain. Take the opportunity to clean yourself now that you felt like you were in a million pieces before you put yourself back together again.

You slowly collect all the things you needed for bathing and head outside. It’s warm. Beautiful as always. You hope maybe the sun will help you grow after feeling like you’ve wilted. You can only hope.

As you step onto the deck, you notice your shit covered boots still waiting outside to be cleaned. You might as well clean those too while you’re at it. Why shouldn’t everything have a fresh start. So you pick those up and carrying them down with you to the waters edge, dropping them in the dirt while dropping your towel on a nice patch of grass.

You strip down, no longer really caring about who is going to see you. You’re far too upset to care at this point. The sun is warm of your skin, but the water is cold. It always is. It’s numbing though, and you’d really like to feel numb for a little bit.

You’re stepping deeper and deeper, feeling an odd moment of calm. The water really is soothing. It’s helping to take your mind off the past three days. You close your eyes, soaking up the sunlight on your face and letting the water hold you.

You’re so deep into your own mind, trying to self soothe, that you don’t hear the silent steps of someone joining you on the shoreline. You don’t hear your boots being knocked over, or see your clothes being stepped on. It’s only when the feet of your unwanted guest step into the water, creating ripples and a plunking sound, that you realize you’re not alone.

An uneasy feeling overwhelms you and you shrink down slightly. “Soap?” You ask hesitantly, your first thought being that he was close by. But when you glance over your shoulder, it’s not Soap. Instead of meeting his angry blue eyes, you instead meet the angry black eyes of a black bear.

You gasp, almost losing your footing as you try to back away quickly into the deeper water to get some distance. There was a fair amount of distance between you and the bear already, but your first instinct was to get away from it.

The bear is sniffling the air, looking right at you. It’s watching your every movement like it’s reading your body language. Trying to decide if you’d be worth going after. It makes a few grunting sounds, which sound so familiar. This must have been the bear that was chasing you yesterday. It must have followed you here.

“G-go away!” You shout at it, not sure if you’re suppose to play dead or not. Clearly this bear knows you aren’t dead, and you honestly aren’t sure if the play dead thing was a myth or not.

Maybe it wasn’t a myth though, cause as soon as you shout at it, it raises onto its back legs and bellows at you. The sounds makes your heart thud harder in your chest, a shiver of fear running all through you. Its teeth look so sharp, it’s claws so long. Panic is starting to overtake you no matter how hard you try to push it down and keep a clear mind.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… what the fuck do I do?” You mutter to yourself, yelping as it comes down on all fours again.

The bear starts to walk into the water, continuing to sniff the air and watch your every movement. It’s still grunting and growling at you as it slowly stalks towards you.

You’re frozen in fear, almost like you’re hoping it won’t see you if you stay super still, and it will go away. The creature takes a lunge at you, splashing up water before retreating a bit. Testing you. The sudden movement brings you back to the present, and you let out a scream, holding your arms up to shield you from the spray of water.

“Go away!” You shout louder this time and start to splash water towards it in hopes of scaring it off. It manages to make the animal jump and back away, but it recovers when it realizes the water didn’t hurt and starts to come in again.

It lunges again at you, letting out a long roar and getting closer. However, this time it doesn’t back away. Its mouth is hanging open and thick drool is dripping from its chops. It was like drooling at the very thought of having you for its next meal, a thought that makes you shiver.

“Get out of here! Go!” You shout some more. In a panic, you try to make more distance, swimming out a little further. The water was coming up to just under your chest now.

You avert your gaze for a split second to look around for a weapon, a stick or anything to defend yourself with, and the second you look away, the bear charges. You scream again, heart pounding and tears coming to your eyes. It was standing up again so it could touch the bottom of the lake, its arm taking a swipe at you. Luckily you’re still just out of reach.

“Go away! You fucking stupid animal! Go away!” You scream at it, backing up more.

To say you are terrified is an understatement. You’re naked and completely unprepared to fight off something like a bear. You can’t think, your mind still stressed and exhausted from the last few hours. You’re panicking and afraid that you’re going to die.

Then you hear, far off in the distance, a familiar voice. One you’ve never been more happy to hear in your entire life. As relieved and happy as you are to hear him, you hope it’s not going to be the last voice you ever hear.

“States?! States!!!”

***

[helenvader]

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[little-teacupss]

My Masterlist + Rules + blog

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Their good fairy. Series

Part one.

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Part three of part one of castlecoming.

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May your anchor be tight and your heart be mine. Series

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Famey

The Pirate meets his fairy.

The Pirate and his Fairy.

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Forky

The Pirate and His Fairy.

The Serptine's Jealousy.

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The Trapped Fairy - Chapter One.

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The Trapped Fairy - Chapter Three.

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Harriet's lullaby - short story/spin off.

Fay's Heart - Part One ( It's being split up )

Fay's heart - The Prequel

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Morfay.

The serpentine's jealousy.

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What if I love you?

___________________________________________

PeriwinkleChad.

You're my fairy godmother!

Our little secret.

A Charming dinner.

___________________________________________

Miscellaneous/Spin offs.

Family Montage - mini fics.

Couples therapy - mini fic

She's yours - angst fic

Memes with MFH and the VK's - meme quotes

Part two of MFH and the VK's - meme qoutes

Our good little fairy. - yandere fic series

Snippet - Merlin

A prince's love - Merlin

I envy you - Merlin

___________________________________________

Rules.

1. I do take requests, but there are somethings I will not write

2. Character death, it's just that I've never done it and would have no clue how to set it up - I might be trying it in an upcoming story

3. NSFW/non-con/SA, once again I've never written about it before and would have no clue how to set it up, but also I will not write about non-con/SA, it's not in my morals and not something I support or want to Romanticize. But for NSFW, I will have as far as making out, implied, and off-screen, that is as far as I will go

4. Labor scenes, it would make me uncomfortable to write about something so sensitive, I'll go as far as getting to the hospital and after

5. Omegaverse, sorry in some ways I think it can be written well depending on the person, I'm just not one to those people

6. Suicide, sorry I won't write about that kind of sensitive subject

7. I only write character x character, unfortunately I've tried to do character x reader, and it doesn't work for me either I go into writers block, or it doesn't perform well, or it never gets finished

8. I won't write stories where the partner is bullying the other partner, for example: Bridget x Hook, Morgie x Fay, Maleficent x Fay x Hades. I'm sorry, but it doesn't sit right with me

9. Domestic abuse, once again, goes against my morals and trauma, but also I won't write about that kind of sensitive topic

10. At the moment I'm only writing for Descendants, but I will notify when I'm writing for other Randoms

And that's all for Rules for now.

___________________________________________

Blog.

On tumblr got under little-teacups. I'm a minor, I go by she/her, I will not allow any kind of bullying, I also believe you can give criticism without being a prick.

Tagged Creators: @giveityourworst

My co-founder/creditor of the MFH ship: @giveityourworst

Remembering Eric Pankratz.

Multi-Universe lores.

Pirate terminology.

My anons

🎃 anon - pronouns they/them

🦐 anon - pronouns he/they

🪶 anon - pronouns She/Her

[dotster001]

Hidden Desires Chapter Five

Summary: Jamil x gn! Reader. Now that you're at the Isle of Woe, your relationship with Jamil might be tested. Not that you even realize it.

CW: major spoilers for book six!!!!!!!!, not really transitions, just cuts from place to place, ideally imagine the events of book six occurring concurrently with this

Chapters: Prologue One Two Three Four Six

"Test two ready. Commencing Dive!"

Jamil heard Ortho's voice distantly in the headset, as the scene in the vr changed again. The first test him and Leona had faced was incredibly easy. If this was how all the tests would run, he had no doubt that himself and the other overblotters would finish and be released well before the twenty four hours they'd been contracted for were up.

As the scene finally settled, he looked around in confusion.

"We're in the greenhouse," Jamil muttered.

"Hmph," was all he got from Leona.

"Ayo! Leona! Where the hell have ya been!" 

"Ruggie?" Jamil breathed. 

"Jamil! You scared me! I'm so happy you're okay!" 

"Kalim," his eye twitched a bit, but he calmed his tension quickly. "Sorry Kalim. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Whatever, Leona if you don't get that potions essay in by the end of the day, Crewel 's gonna have my head on a platter," Ruggie said with a pout.

"Oh, I get it," Leona began, but was cut off by a new voice. 

"Jamil! Where did you go?" 

Your voice. And not long after, you. He felt all the tension ease from his shoulders as you walked towards him. Only for you to place your arm in Kalim's. Then press a kiss to his cheek.

"We should have a party to celebrate, right love?" You said sweetly.

Jamil was about to release a slew of curses, when the air filled with sand.

"Snap out of it, Viper. They're using our memories to create a scene that will upset us," Leona snapped.

Jamil's face split into a grin, "So if we don't get upset, we can calmly fight them."

"Correct. Prepare yourselves!"

….

"And what is the Ramshackle perfect doing here. That I don't understand," Idia said with a frown. He had just apprehended yourself, Epel, and Rook.

You should lie. You should say you were just here to drop off Vil's skincare routine. But you couldn't lie. Not when you were so close.

"I'm here for Grim and my boyfriend," you snapped. 

Idia rolled his eyes. "Sevens, of course you are. Normies are so predictable, allowing emotions to take over their senses."

"Wouldn't you be devastated if your boyfriend and your only family were both stolen from you in the same breath!" You shouted, meanwhile feeling Epel's hand slip into yours, and give it a reassuring squeeze.

Idia stared at Ortho for a moment. "I'll give you the family thing, but Jamil? C'mon! He's a guy!"

"Sounds like you speak from experience," Epel snickered, before getting fixed with a glare.

"Look, I already told you, less than twenty four hours from now, they're free to go, all of them. Then you can live your basic romantic lives, or whatever, and leave me alone."

"Fine," you hissed.

"Good. Ortho's going to escort you all to a room you can stay in, and have you sign some paperwork."

You held back any further retorts as Idia entered his chariot and flew away, leaving you and your rescue crew alone.

….

You really wish the world wasn't ending. It would have been far more relieving to have teamed up with the kidnapped overblotters. But Grim was still missing. And the world was indeed ending.

And now you were splitting up again to find Idia in Tartarus. In an unexpected way.

"Roi du poison, Epel, and I should be in one team, since we have spent the most time together, and thus will work the most seamlessly. And Y/N should come with us because we can protect them the most."

You wanted to go with Jamil. If you all failed, and the world got flooded in blot, you wanted to be by Jamil's side. To give the man you loved a last farewell. 

"A brilliant idea! I trust you three to protect our savior better than any of us!" Azul said with a bow.

You looked at Jamil, and noticed his clenched jaw, but the rest of the group was nodding in agreement, and he rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," he mouthed, and you gave him a tired smile.

"Then how should the rest of the groups split?"

In moments, the groups were split, and you were preparing to make your way into Tartarus. You turned to say something, anything, to Jamil, but Rook threaded his arm through yours, and dragged you off.

….

"May I give you each a hug and a kiss?"

You and Epel stared at Vil. But Rook excitedly spoke up for the both of you.

"Oui! It would be a wonderful way to experience your gratitude!"

Vil smiled softly and hugged you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He moved to Epel and did the same thing.

Then he stood before Rook. He slipped his hands into his. Then leaned in and passionately kissed his lips.

Rook froze, before reciprocating, and both you and Epel couldn't look away, as much as you longed to. It was when Vil began to lace his fingers in Rook's hair that Epel gave a not so subtle cough.

Vil pushed Rook away, despite being the one who started it, then gave his own cough.

"Shall we proceed?" Before anyone else could respond, he began his descent down the stairs, Rook trailing him like a lovesick puppy as you and Epel giggled behind him.

….

"I can't help but wonder, snake. For someone who always thinks so little of everyone else, and who lacks charisma, how did you get Y/N?"

Jamil had thought Leona was going to take another nap while they waited for the spear to recharge. After already being sliced into, and forced to reflect on his entire life view, he was not sure he wanted to start this conversation.

"Maybe  I have some charisma after all," he said with a smirk.

Leona gave him an unimpressed hmph.

"I don't know. Perhaps I proved to Y/N during Vil's overblot that I can protect them."

"Y/N doesn't need protection. Just cause they don't have magic, doesn't make them weak. They're the school beast tamer for a reason."

"That's just something Crowley calls them."

"Ha ha ha!" Leona let out a booming laugh. "Maybe, but I've known Y/N longer than you, as much as I'm sure you hate that. But the beast tamer title is legit. Hell, if you haven't noticed any of the changes we've all gone through, it just makes my question all the more valid!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you sound jealous, housewarden," Jamil snickered.

"And what if I am? You're dating them, you know what they're like, can you really blame me?"

He bit his lip, and Leona snickered again. "I've been here before you, and I'll be here after."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jamil muttered.

"It means you don't seem to be taking to the beast taming, and Y/N will realize you haven't grown at all from the slimy snake who tried to kill them."

"Sevens, you sound like Azul," Jamil groaned.

"Is the octopus after Y/N too?" 

"No he just…he's overprotective."

"Fair. Rather not fight him if I don't have to, so that's good to know."

Jamil was prepared to offer up a retort, but was met with a soft snore.

"Unbelievable," he groaned.

Logically, he knew there was a chance that some of the overblot crew, who sat with you at lunch every single day even if they had to share a chair, would be into you.

But Leona?

He thought back to when you watched the stars together in the Scarabia dorm. But when he looked at the memory now, he saw Leona. Leona who was kissing you roughly, like a predator who caught his prey. Leona, who laid you down against the carpet. Leona, who pinned one of your wrists above your head, while your other hand slipped into his hair. Leona who released a low growl as he deepened the kiss.

"Fuck!" Jamil shouted, standing up from his seat and pacing angrily.

He should be happy. He should be happy there was someone who'd pick up the pieces if he had to leave you for something or someone else. He knew it might have to go there someday; once he'd rebuilt his reputation, which he was nearly done with, he'd have to take whatever was the next step to building his power, both at school and in life.

But he couldn't be happy.

And that was terrifying.

The world  could end in moments if they failed, and all he could think about was how Rook had pulled you away before he could say goodbye. His reputation and future be damned, all he wanted right now was to hold you.

This was terrifying.

Leona was wrong. Your beast taming had affected him. Even if you didn't mean to be taming him, you had done it successfully anyway.

Sevens.

Why did he have to love you?

….

Idia had overblotted sort of. Riddle's hair has turned white. Vil had aged. You'd gotten Grim back. And now you were about to go home.

But first…

"Hey, Idia?" He looked at you startled, his eyes wide.

"I just want to say, when you come back, if you need someone to talk to about…all of this, I'm always there to listen. You don't have to suffer alone."

Idia slowly nodded, and you turned to climb into the aircraft. Jamil was staring at you, eyes blank, and you gave him a reassuring smile. He extended a hand, and you took it, using all your strength to pull him into a hug.

"I'm so happy you're okay," you whispered, feeling safe in his arms as he tightened the hug.

"C'mon lovebirds, let's go," Leona said with a laugh.

You giggled and pulled Jamil with you into the aircraft. The trip felt like it would be a silent one.Then Vil started sobbing.

"Roi du poison!"

"Don't look at me Rook! I'm old, and rotting away!"

"Roi du poison-"

"I've been robbed of my youth and middle ages!"

"What happened to your speech from before?" Azul asked, clear amusement in his voice.

"I was trying to keep control of the situation!" Vil shrieked, but was stopped when Rook cupped his cheeks.

"I love you! And I will always find you beautiful! If you were a worm, I would still find you beautiful!" Rook cried.

Vil sniffled, then leaned in and kissed Rook. The kiss continued for a little too long, and everyone looked away.

"Unrequited love, huh?" You snickered.

You could have sworn you felt Rook kick your seat between kisses.

….

Jamil watched as you and the rest of the group gamed together. In particular, he was watching Idia. Idia who slowly moved himself closer and closer to you. Idia who genuinely smiled when you spoke to him. Idia who ignored his own controller so that he could help you play.

"Beast tamer, huh?" Jamil muttered to himself.

One day under your light, and Idia was already growing as a person. Jamil didn't feel any different. At least not where it mattered. Yes, he loved you. He loves you more than anything.

But was that enough for him to deserve you?

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @leonia0 @mizucika @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @kurenix @starshiningsirius @pikeru565 @da-disappointment @dearhyacinths @carpediem1219 @ravenkake @savanaclaw1996 @felinegrate

[noboundsforlove]

Violet Sorrengail’s Second Signet

Her second signet is light. Let me explain.

Let’s start with her first signet, back in Fourth Wing. In Chapter 22, Tairn channels to Violet for the first time. Violet describes it as a “rush of energy” that races down her spine. Then she says “Another wave ripples through me…” and continues “Something within me expands, somehow too big for my own body, too vast to be contained, and pain sears every nerve as I crack open, the sound reverberating through my skull like bones shattering. It’s as though I’ve been split at the very seams of the fabric of my being.” What’s important to note is that it comes in waves and it is painful. She then says “Energy pours in - a deluge of raw endless power…” She specifically describes it as “the energy - the power.” As continuing to course through her veins.

Fast forward to Iron Flame. Andarna wakes up from the Dreamless Sleep at the end of Chapter 37. I’m of the opinion that Violet’s second signet does not manifest until after Andarna awakes (sorry to anyone who thinks the hallucination of Liam [Ch. 35] or Rhiannon’s dagger move [Ch. 29] are a part of the second signet). Andarna is still a bit groggy when she wakes up, so she doesn’t start channeling to Violet right away. She starts channeling in Chapter 48 - you know - the “My house. My Chair. My woman.” chapter.

During this cataclysmic scene, Xaden gives Violet the conduit to hold - this is key, as I think it’s why Violet does not fully realize Andarna has started to channel. I think it starts when Violet says “With the next caress, pleasure and power crest through me, over me, in simultaneous waves that crash again and again. There’s no thunder, no strike, only the hum of energy in my hand that flares with the strokes of Xaden’s mouth and fingers.” Violet’s stream of consciousness continues that it does not end - “only the waves of infinite ecstasy that come without breaking.” She says out loud “I can’t take it” and says the waves come and come with no end in sight. She describes the “searing pleasure” that rips through her. After Xaden floods the bond, she says “I shatter, splintering into a million glittering shards of bliss as I scream out his name. Power and light course through me without burning…” and then says she feels her power crackle through the orb in her hand before settling.

The way Violet describes what she is feeling as endless waves and searing pleasure echoes the scene in Fourth Wing where Tairn starts channeling to her. It is the only spot in the book where she says that “power and light” course through her, and I think that indicates that her second signet is finally present. It’s important to note that in Chapter 40, Felix tells Violet that she “wields pure power that takes the form of lightning” because that is the form Violet is most comfortable shaping it as. I think her light signet will be similar—what she will wield is pure light, but it will take a certain form.

As Andarna reminds Violet in Chapter 53, “signets manifest according to the person wielding.” Violet is, in a metaphorical sense, light. I think her signet of power is associated with her rider heart, and her signet of light is associated with her scribe mind. Violet is outraged by being kept in the dark by her government—she wants the truth to be brought to light. This also applies to her relationship with Xaden—she constantly seeks truth, or light.

Violet is also going to need light to defeat the venin. In Chapter 53, Cat makes a comment to Violet that the fact that she doesn’t carry a torch with her says that Violet hasn’t been appropriately scared of the dark yet. At the beginning of Chapter 61, we get more context as to why Cat might be afraid of the dark—the chapter begins with a quote from Major Edvard Tiller’s Unaccredited Study of the Venin. “Though there is some debate, it is greatly believed that turning venin heightens one of the dark wielder’s senses. It is this scholar’s belief that the one responsible for the death of King Grethwild developed keener eyesight. For not even the best of His Majesty’s royal fliers could see through the darkness the venin hid within to slay our beloved king.” Violet will need light to expose the venin and then wield power in the form of lightning to defeat them.

One thought on the form the light signet could take is that Violet is a luminary. She can amplify dragon fire, and make it hotter. She might need this to be able to forge a tool or weapon out of iron, like the wardstones, the stones found in the wyvern carcasses, the Rybestad chest, or the runed stones that protected the children of the rebellion. After all, Violet is a part of the Iron Squad, and the book is called Iron Flame - perhaps the answer has been sitting in front of us all along. Violet’s second signet may just be her ability to wield iron flame.

[philosophiums]

Hi! I have some questions about your jjkxatla au that you're doing ( which is literally like THE COOLEST thing ever I'm so excited to read it when it comes out you guys are so creative :D)

Will each book for each element be one chapter in the fic? Or will each book be multiple chapters and uploaded as separate parts on ao3? And if it's the latter, will you upload book one before you finish the other four books. I hope this makes sense (and apologies if you've addressed this before lmaooo)

Also!! Who would you say is your favorite character to write dialogue/interactions/fight scenes so far in the fic?? All of the characters designs and lore bits are super interesting to me so I'm curious as to who's your fave from a writer standpoint haha.

That's all! Thank you guys for creating this AU, it has taken up around 80% of my brain and I'm so hyped for the first chapter to be dropped. Thank youuuuu :D

AAAAAAAAAAAA that's so sweet tysm !!!! <3

oh!!! okay ! explaining it with words might get confusing, so i'll use a bullet list to explain the general like... sections and stuff

>Entire Fic >Part 1 >Chapters 1-? >Part 2 >Chapters ?-? >Part 3 >Chapters ?-? >Part 4 >Chapters?-end >Epilogue

it's all going to be uploaded as one fic, and i'll just label in-fic where each of the parts begins and ends (they are like the books in atla, and are named after elements, but i'm just calling them parts instead to not be a direct rip from atla KJBSDVKJBSDV)

the intent right now is to finish the first draft of part 1 (which i'm estimating will be about..... 10 chapters? maybe 9 if i'm lucky, but watch it be 11-12), and then go back and edit it before i start uploading!! there isn't going to be an update schedule because i don't want to like... catch up to wherever i currently am too quickly and (biggest reason) i don't want to put pressure on myself or on hina to finish things in a certain timeframe. there will likely be a break between part 1 and part 2 (and so on) for similar reasons (this is going to be.... a really long fic. right now it's looking like it'll be 90k+ just for part 1, and the last thing i want is to get burned out halfway through, so i'm pacing myself on purpose)

AH my favorite character to write for is megumi 100%. yuuji is the avatar, but i think with the way hina and i structured the general plot, megumi is the main character. it's split pov between the two of them, but megumi has a bit more screen time because i just find him easier to write KJDVBDJVK

thank you so much!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

[magickhajiit]

Boy Wonder No More

Chapter 1

Summary-

Tim Drake has been Robin for years. Its a secret he holds close to his chest. Unfortuanatly for him the truth has a way of revealing itself in the worst moments. And Amanda 'The Wall' Waller has decided Batman's proteges, the Boy Wonder and Nightwing, have more use under her thumb than they do out flying through the dark streets of Gotham.

---------- Also known as Tim Drake and Dick Grayson join the Suicide Squad.

Rating - T

Chalk lines jumble together as Tim slumps at his desk, Shakespeare’s words melt into white noise as he watches the clock, its arms moving with the urgency of a pensioner counting their coins at a store checkout. Either three minutes or three hours ago the clock had struck two. Giving him ninety minutes till the bell screeches in the hall and about four hundred and eighty minutes till he’s flying through the dark streets of Gotham.

When the professor’s clipped voice stops Tim buries his head into his book, his bangs blocking his view of the clock and his pencil teasing the edge of the blank page. The bite of a lead pencil into his skin keeps his eyes from drooping further as he nipples at his inside cheek.

Only a few years separate his teacher and her students, a fact that she compensates for a no-nonsense attitude and a severe bun. Mrs Miller is a newly Wed who just moved from the state of Nevada after studying for three years. Her father’s a big-time banker, with connections in New York, giving her first access to a faculty spot in Gotham State Academy. According to a mixture of private emails and transfer papers courtesy of the Bat Computer. Not that Tim is meant to look, but some stalker-like habits are harder to drop than others.

‘’Timothy Drake.’’ With her non-vigilante background in mind, Tim mentally kicks himself when he starts at the sound of his name. She’s managed to sneak behind him, so close he can see how her chalk-stained fingers have smudged a hint of green onto her dark skin. Hopefully, she rubs it off before her four PM meeting.

‘’Uh- Yes.’’ Subconsciously, Tim splays a hand over his empty page.

Her green eyes don’t flick downward, focusing over his shoulder, ‘’As I just stated these gentlemen are here to see you.’’

Unease running through him Tim follows her gaze, landing on the men in the door. Both are wearing pressed black slacks and ties, their eyes shielded by black glasses. Hints of grey have started to invade the hair of the first man. The second stands inches behind him, looking like he wanted to barge into the room first but was foiled. His form is almost satirical in its stature, the empty doorway space left by the first agent has been consumed by the second. ‘’Right. Sorry.’’ When Tim stuffs his work into his backpack no one speaks up to correct his assumption. The gaze of his classmates burns a hole through his blazer as he walks to meet them, the door closing in his wake.

Despite a warning bell blaring in his mind, he plasters on his best Timothy Drake smile when he asks, ‘’Can I ask what this is about.’’

‘’We need you to come with us, son.’’ The older man speaks first his speckled military-style moustache wiggles as he talks.

‘’Not until I know what this is about.’’ Deep in his pockets, his hand tightened to fists, nails embedding. He pushes a joke past his lips, its intent to disarm. ‘’My parents did warn me about stranger danger after all’’

Moustache man cracks a grin and for a split second, Tim thinks he’s won. ‘’If you tweet any louder than that you might cause a scene. And that’s not going to end well for any of us. Capesh.’’ When the second guy opens his mouth Tim can hear a slight whistle, and when he sneers he flashes empty gums and sparse teeth.

Tweeting. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe not. ‘’Sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect I’m just curious.’’ Placatingly Tim raises his hands, taking note of the flintch that crosses the men’s faces.

‘’Curiosity killed the cat you know.’’ The hand that lands on his shoulder propels his body down the corridor, his fingers embedding marks that will likely blossom into bruises before the next sunrise. Just as Tim’s thanking God third period hadn’t yet finished the boy shuffles around the corner, his gaze locked onto the device clutched in his hand. With a teenage sixth sense, he knows to glance up moments before collision. His eyes widen like saucers as he takes sight of Tim.

‘’So it's true.’’ Tim thinks he might take double math with the boy but he’s not too sure. Before he can question and feed that voice in his head warning him the phone plucked out of the boy’s hand, earphones trailing behind, and crushed beneath the heel of a recently polished office shoe. ‘’ Hey. You can’t do that. I have rights.’’

The meaty hand that propels him forward is quickly replaced by a grip on the back of his neck, the pressure almost reassuring. ‘’Stay Calm and don’t struggle. You don’t need to make this any worse.’’ The older man guides him faster down the hall, but not before he sees the giant agent lift the boy a few inches from the floor, held aloft by the lapels of his own blazer. Robin knows at least a few dozen ways to untangle himself from the hold, another dozen ways to drop the agents and be out of the building before their bodies hit the ground. Timothy Drake however knows none.

Bright rays of sun leave him blinded for a moment when they burst through the front doors and only by habit does he manage the following steps without tumbling. Already he knew not to expect to be led to the principal’s office. Whatever this was, was bigger than a detention. Still, the black special ops van that’s rolled up to the school’s front doors is a surprise, as are the armed men surrounding it. ‘’Wait there’s been a mistake.’’ One hand dives into his pocket, digging around he presses the help button moments before his hands are wrenched behind his back.

‘’Sure there has.’’ Gum Guy was back, now forcing him forward into the awaiting open doors of the van. Two armed guards are already occupying the space within, not reacting even as Tim is forced to his knees between them. The chains that are resting on the van’s floor are quickly wrapped around his wrists, keeping his hands at the same level as his knees. As he’s trussed up he puts up a token protest at best, still hoping there is still a secret identity he's protecting. Though he takes satisfaction at hearing a grunt as he stabs backward with a sharp elbow, hitting a softness that promises a stomach hit. ‘’I hope I didn’t ruffle your feathers too much today, birdy boy.’’ The van’s doors slam closed as Tim’s throat runs dry.

[thevioletcaptain]

Hi! I don’t mean in any way to pressure you but I was wondering if you’re planning on continuing your fic “fortress”? I’d love to see it continue🥰 again no pressure I just really like your works!

Hi anon! Thanks for the message :)

Despite the hellishly long gap between updates, Fortress is not abandoned, and I do intend to finish it. It's actually pretty high up on my to-do list right now, and will be the next major thing I post once As A Friend is done.

Here's the order in which I plan to post DeanCas fics/updates over the next few months -- with some vague spoiler-adjacent-but-not-really-spoilery details for anyone who wants them:

Chapters 5 & 6 - As A Friend Roughly 35k words in total, split over these final two chapters. This will see Dean & Cas return to the bunker, announce their "fake" relationship to Sam & Jack, and then [redacted because I'm not giving the whole thing away even though you already know it's gonna be a happy ending].

Chapters 8, 9, & 10 - Fortress Roughly 22k words split between these three chapters. Chapter 9 (the during chapter in which Dean is suffering) & chapter 10 (the after chapter which follows the first days of Dean living with Cas after coming home) have been ready for a while, but chapter 8 (the before chapter, which features Robin's party when they were 16 👀 a party which you might recall was mentioned by Cas during the previous before chapter) has been holding them hostage. So as soon as 8 is ready I intend to post all three at once.

Oneshot - Hearts Beating Life (Into Each Other) Roughly 25k words of canonverse fuck-or-die fic. In which Cas gets cursed on a hunt, and you'll never guess what Dean has to do to save him..... lol. It'll probably get split into two or three chapters for readability, but I plan to post it all at once. This is only one final scene away from being complete at this point, but I want to finish As A Friend & update Fortress before I share it.

Chapter 8 - Isosceles Roughly 17k words, because this fic refuses to let me be succinct. Dean & Cas discuss more almosts, the angels make contact, we find out exactly what Sam said to Dean in chapter 4, Claire [redacted] when [redacted], Mary and Dean bond over [redacted], and the search for Kelly Kline picks up steam.

Chapters 3 & 4 - Empty Heroics Roughly 20k words split between these final two chapters. In which there is bed sharing, a plan is formulated, and Nobody Dies. I realize that barely anyone even read the first two chapters of this fic, but I still really like it and want to finish it off, so it's the fifth thing on my to-do list.

Oneshot - As-Yet-Untitled Shrinking Curse Fic Roughly 10k words of canonverse established relationship PWP. In which they've been together for literally three days when Dean gets hit with a shrinking curse that won't wear off for a year, and comes up with a creative solution to ensure that they can still enjoy the physical aspects of their new relationship despite being small enough to perch on Cas' shoulder.

Chapter 1 - One More Chain Does The Maker Make Roughly 10k words, and the first of five chapters. The whole fic should come in around 50-60k words, and it's canon-divergent from 15.06. Featuring a lot of pining, and Dean working on Jesse and Cesar's ranch. I posted about it here if you want to know more!

The final 5 chapters of Fortress & final 3 chapters of Isosceles will come next -- likely to be about another 30k and 45k respectively, based on current word counts and what remains to be written.

At some point in between all of this I also plan to post some updates to The Coda Project (I've written at least half of each coda up to 1.12 Faith at this point, I just need to buckle down and finish them off in order so I can start posting them again), along with a handful of short tumblr prompt meme ficlets I've written recently -- specifically, those based on the following six trios of emojis: [🧪🧛🏻‍♀️💦], [🔮🛁🫂], [🤠🎶🌬️], [���👀🎨], [🥬🍅✨], and [🥶😶‍🌫️🤯], all of which ended up being significantly longer than they should have been, hence the delay in posting them.

...aaaand I realize that this is far more information than you asked for so I apologize. But thanks again for your message, and for reading. I hope you enjoy all the updates when they're posted 💚

[strangerstilinski]

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter one - - chapter two

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.

word count; 11,952

notes; this whole thing was inspired by the throwaway line "two joggers found a body in the woods-" this is the first half of s1e1. i've already completed season one in its entirety but i will be posting them slowly on here. it's 13 chapters in all.

masterlist

c h a p t e r o n e

wolf moon pt.1

All of the craziness started on a Sunday.

The last day of winter break had been stressful enough to start, with the anxiety of having to start up classes again at the front of Amber’s mind all morning. It would be the final semester of her sophomore year. Then, the next year would be crammed with SATs and ACTs and applying to colleges. She knew they would all be one step closer to having to decide what to do with the rest of their lives.

She found it all very daunting.

Since waking up that morning, the girl had restlessly alternated between hiding away in the privacy of her bedroom and lounging in the living room downstairs, unable to find a comfortable place to settle. At some point, she'd managed to chew her nails to the point of bleeding. Pulling her hair back into a braid had become a necessity when she noticed herself picking obsessively at her split ends. Her laptop sat open on the coffee table along with a small stack of paperbacks, from where she had started and then immediately abandoned two different television shows and three books.

After dinner, her irritating inability to sit still had finally pushed her older brother, Jason, to his final breaking point. He'd demanded she go change into exercise clothes and then he dragged her from the house in an effort to release some of her pent up restless energy.

Jason forced her out for a jog through the preserve, and only a measly ten minutes into their run she found herself already with sweat trickling down her temple. She was breathing heavily, slowly falling behind, while her brother continued to run ahead of her with ease.

Amber watched as her brother's lead slowly increased in length, the gap between them growing larger and larger, the sound of his footfalls crunching over leaves and twigs growing more and more faint as she trailed behind. Eventually, upon rounding a long bend in the hiking trail, she realized that she could no longer see him in the distance at all.

With a pause to catch her breath, she bent over at the waist to brace her hands on her knees in an attempt to pull more air into her aching lungs.

Over a mile deep in the preserve, the only sounds that met her ears were that of the breeze whistling as it filtered through barren branches, the odd scuffle of fallen leaves rolling over one another, and her own wheezing breaths of exertion.

When she lifted her head to take stock of where she'd stopped, she found that she'd reached the first fork in the trail. She returned to an upright position, chest heaving as she continued to pant labored breaths, deliberating which path her brother might have taken with hands on her hips.

With a resolved shake of her head, she chose the path to the right. Regardless of which she took, both would eventually lead back to the small trailhead where they'd parked the truck. So, she continued on.

The pace that she settled into could hardly have been considered a jog — if anything, she was moving in a walk with only the exaggerated body movements of a run, but she was tired.

She had only made it a few hundred feet from where the trail split off before she spotted something that piqued her curiosity in a pile of dry brush and leaves at the side of the trail. She slowed as she approached, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with her shirtsleeve and breathing heavily.

Poking out from the leaves, she could just make out the peculiar shape of a cluster of pale rocks — it almost resembled toes.

A choked combination of a gag and a gasp escaped her. She covered her mouth with the sleeve of her windbreaker as she reached the pile of brush because — It was definitely toes, connected to a foot, which then connected to legs and, well, that was pretty much where it ended because there was only half of a body.

Another gag pushed its way out of her throat, eyes drawn to the clean, smooth cut that went straight through the hips of the corpse beneath the dead leaves. Something had been used to cut them through muscle and flesh and bone. She could see it was a female — the body had been left completely naked.

This had been a person. And they laid on the ground, covered in earth and dried blood, just a few feet from where she was standing. Amber could see dirt caked around the pink nail polish that covered the woman's toenails. Even through all of the blood, she could make out a tiny freckle on the bare skin of the corpse's knee.

She fought back another gag as she finally found her voice, and she screamed.

“Jason!”

Her voice came out shrill. It cracked painfully as she shouted for her brother again and again. She screamed only a handful of times before she could hear her brother yelling her own name in panic as he backtracked and found his way to her on the trail.

Jason's feet skidded in the dirt as he came to a stop in front of where his sister was still standing. Her shaking fingers still covering her mouth as she struggled to keep herself from dry-heaving. His hands went to her shoulders as he checked his sister over for any sort of visible injury. When he found none, his attention turned around them, searching for a threat. His eyes widened when he followed her gaze and caught sight of the body — what there was of one — that sat only a few feet away from them.

Amber distantly heard the call that her brother placed to the Sheriff's Station. She could hear him telling someone about the body and she heard him give directions to their location on the trail, but it was echoed, like she was underwater as she listened to him speak into his phone off to the side of her peripheral vision.

She couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from the corpse. The skin was so pale, it had almost a blueish hue. She wondered, absently, if the person had been out here in the cold before they died, or if that was just what a body looked like after so much blood loss because this person must have lost... So. Much. Blood.

The whole body was covered in in it, gluing dry leaves and dirt to their skin. They had been cut in half. Or, maybe they hadn’t been cut in half until after they’d died. Maybe, Amber thought, it had been something simple. A quick death. Something like a gunshot to the head–

God. She hoped desperately that the woman hadn’t been sliced in half while they were still alive.

It felt like only a minute or two had passed but it must have been longer because suddenly, the bright evening sunlight that had guided her along the trail during their jog was dwindling. It was growing dark and she was being ushered away from the body as officers took pictures, laying crime tape and placing little numbered tents around the scene.

Her brother stood off to the side speaking to the same deputy Amber had just finished with, recounting his own memory of the evening. The deputy nodded and took notes down on their little pad once again, just as they had when Amber had been talking.

Down at the end of the trail, it seemed as if police cars might never stop coming. There were officers making their way up with search dogs now. The dogs barked and ran around, likely on the search for the other half of the body.

She stood off to the side as her eyes flicked from where Jason was speaking to the deputy, to the location of the body, where cameras were flashing and uniformed deputies were moving back and forth in a blur.

Amber felt a hand land on her shoulder and nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she spun around to see that it was only Sheriff Stilinski, looking at her with the same soft look of concern in his eyes that she'd seen so many times over the years.

“Amber. I didn’t realize it was you and Jason who’d come across it. When I got the call.. I was out of the house so fast I didn’t think to ask-” He sighed, “You okay, kid?”

The girl took a shaky breath, but nodded. The heavy hand Sheriff Stilinski still had resting on her shoulder felt grounding. While he could never replace her dad, he was as close as she got these days and she was grateful for his presence now.

Over the years, there had been something about the stern, protective, always unwaveringly loving energy that her best friend's father emitted. Somehow, he always managed to make her darkest days just a bit better — it was entirely possible that the ability was simply a Stilinski family trait.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Scarred for life, definitely, yeah. But, okay.” Amber said, feeling proud when the small smile she gave him was only somewhat shaky. “I actually think I might go to Scott's? I’ll call Stiles.. See if they want to watch some movies or something. Just.. Distract myself, y'know?”

Getting Stiles to sit down quietly and watch a movie could be like pulling teeth sometimes. He was constantly jamming his elbow into her waist to get her attention away from the screen, or talking over the action, or pulling out his laptop mid-scene to search the internet for inaccuracies or an actor's filmography in a way that she found endlessly endearing.

It was exactly the kind of distraction she felt like she needed right now.

The Sheriff nodded in response before pulling her in for a tight hug. His hand lingered at the back of her head for a few moments, but then he was releasing her and setting off to talk with a cluster of officers.

“I'd really feel better with you at home where I know you're okay.” Jason told her once they'd closed themselves off inside of his pickup truck.

While understood why her brother was so reluctant to let her go off on her own, Amber was entirely too stubborn for her own good, and Jason inevitably agreed to drop her at Scott's house on his way home, with her promise of getting a decent night’s sleep.

After all, it was a school night.

It was hard to believe that only a couple of hours before, she had been stressed about school of all things. Now, she was fighting off yet another wave of nausea brought on by stumbling across a dead body deep in the preserve.

Well, half of one.

As soon as the vehicle began moving, trees rushing past her window in a dark blur of motion, she was trying to get a hold of Stiles. After two attempts in which the call merely rang through to his voicemail, she tucked her phone back into the pocket of her sport jacket with a frown and a huff. She would just have to wait and see if Scott knew whether Stiles was busy tonight.

Amber had hardly made it two steps into the entryway of the McCall house when Scott came barreling down the stairs, attempting to pull on a zip-up hoodie with one hand and wielding a baseball bat in the other. She opened her mouth to question him but before she could make a sound he shushed her aggressively, pushing her behind himself without explanation as he crept out the front door and onto the porch with an abundance of caution and visible nerves.

“Scott?!” She whispered aggressively, still receiving no answer beyond a frustrated wave of his hand signaling for her to be quiet.

She followed close behind, confused and mildly alarmed as she tried to imagine whatever threat Scott thought that he might find outside. She clung onto the hood of the boy's sweatshirt with one hand as she trailed close behind. Scott held the bat, ready to strike, as the two rounded the porch at the side of the house.

The rapidly dropping temperature over the previous half an hour had the breath puffing out from their mouths in foggy clouds in the dark. Scott relaxed his hold on the bat for a brief second as he peered down over the railing, inadvertently pulling Amber forward with him.

Suddenly, something large dropped down from the roof to dangle in front of them, both teens letting out a scream of alarm. Amber instinctively yanked on Scott's sweatshirt in an attempt to pull him back from the threat, but they both quieted upon recognizing the third scream coming from the person now hanging upside-down from the trellis at the roof of the porch.

“Stiles!” She and Scott both yelled in frustrated synchronization.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott continued immediately.

“You weren’t answering your phone!” Stiles yelled at Scott defensively. “And.. Okay, I know I wasn’t either.” He added sheepishly when he spotted Amber still hidden behind Scott. “Why do you have a bat?!” Stiles’ voice rose to a shrill level again.

As if only now remembering his weapon of choice was still clutched defensively above their heads, ready for an attack, Scott lowered the bat a small increment before speaking, “I thought you were a predator.” He explained simply.

“A pre-” Stiles spluttered, “Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police.”

Amber felt her heart drop suddenly into her stomach as if it were made up of lead.

“For what?” Scott asked, his eyebrows scrunching in curiosity.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Stiles explained at the same time Amber’s voice whispered a meek, “We found a body.”

Stiles clumsily dropped down from where he had been hanging upside-down, arms flailing as he fell from the roof and onto the ground below the porch in a clumsy heap of limbs. The boy stumbled a bit before he managed to get his footing and moved to stand upright.

Scott’s head pivoted back and forth between his two best friends, his eyes wide. “A dead body?”

“No, a body of water. Yes, Dumbass. A dead body.” Stiles scoffed, climbing up onto the porch to stand in front of them. He turned to Amber with a furrow between his brows, “Who's we? You found it?” He asked with growing excitement.

“Jason and I.” She supplied quietly.

“You mean like.. Murdered?” Scott interrupted, taking a step back to stand beside Amber instead of in front of her. He seemed to be stuck on the concept of the dead body being dead.

“Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.” Stiles said with wide eyes, like he found it all very exciting. Amber was beginning to feel queasy again.

“Hold on,” Scott said, “If they found the body, then what are they looking for?”

“That's the best part.” Stiles started, looking to Amber for assurance, or maybe some assistance in the reveal of the next bit of information. She only managed a deep breath after a moment, feeling truly sick as Stiles finished, “They only found half.”

“It was only half.”

Although they spoke at the same time, Amber's words had come out much quieter than Stiles, hardly a weak murmur. Hand beginning to cramp where she was still clutching tightly onto the fabric of Scott’s hood, she released it to flex her fingers a couple of times.

Stiles reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder, leaning in close, “We're going.” He announced firmly.

“Are we actually going to do this?” Scott asked, looking back and forth between them again.

“No.” Amber got out, though the heavy warmth of Stiles' hand through her windbreaker was already making her judgement fuzzy.

Stiles looked at Scott briefly before returning his attention to her, “How come you're the only one who gets to find a body, huh?” He slipped his hand down from her shoulder to grip at her elbow and cradled it softly.

“I don’t know how great you think finding a dead body was for me, but I assure you, it wasn't nearly as fun as whatever you're imagining.” Amber told Stiles.

He stayed silent for once, maintaining eye contact with her for a long minute. She tried to remain strong, she truly did. Amber broke eye contact to look at his face, her eyes flicking over each freckle and mole dotting his pale skin. Steadfastly refusing to let her eyes fall to his lips or drift back to his whiskey colored eyes, she could literally feel her resolve crumbling with every second that she looked at her best friend.

“I’m never going to be able to talk you assholes out of doing this, am I?” She asked quietly. The pit in her stomach felt as if it were expanding with the intent to swallow her whole as her eyes finally went back to his.

A stupidly sweet smile stretched across Stiles' face immediately as he realized he'd won and his hand trailed lower again, taking hold of her own and giving it a squeeze.

Her belly did a traitorous flip at the feeling of her hand in his own and she heaved a resigned sigh. She really didn’t want to have to find both halves of this body.

“We’re seriously doing this?” Scott repeated, sounding unsure.

“You're the ones always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.” Stiles said, rifling through his backpack as they climbed out of his cramped Jeep. He triumphantly pulled out a flashlight and clicked it on, illuminating the preserve in a bright stream of light.

“Plenty has happened for me, today.” Amber reminded them, shielding her eyes until Stiles had lowered the flashlight to shine on the ground.

He put a hand at the small of Amber’s back as they ventured away from the Jeep, guiding her forward gently while he lit a path in front of them.

“And I was trying to get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow.” Scott said.

Stiles addressed Scott first, “Right, ‘cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort. And you,” He said, shining the flashlight at Amber briefly before focussing it back in front of them while they made their way through the trees, “You get to find a body, I get to find a body, right? Fair's fair.”

“I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line.” Scott said, bringing the conversation back around to himself and looking annoyingly smug.

“Hey, that's the spirit! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.” Stiles laughed, his hand drifting to grip Amber's hip momentarily before it returned to the safety of her spine.

She reached up to reprimand Stiles with a gentle thwack on the back of the head as they walked, letting her hand fall to his elbow and pulling his arm from behind her, taking ahold of his hand for support instead as they walked. He began to move faster with his long stride and Amber allowed him pull her along while she attempted to keep up on her shorter legs.

It had grown colder still, their breath continuing to puff out in tiny clouds as the three hiked through the preserve, moving as quickly as they could while watching their step over rocks and fallen branches.

“Just out of curiosity.. Which half of the body are we looking for?” Scott finally asked.

Stiles stumbled, his steps faltering as he paused beside Amber, “Huh. I didn’t think about that.”

Both boys looked to her as they continued to move, waiting for an answer.

“You know what? You’ll find out if we find it. I refuse to indulge you both any more than I already am just by being here.” She huffed, taking a step away from the two of them while maintaining her hold on Stiles' hand.

“And, uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out here?” Scott followed up, nervously looking up into the trees surrounding them.

Amber took a hasty step back toward Stiles as her stomach tied itself tighter in knots at the thought, fearfully clutching Stiles' hand tighter in her grip.

“Also something I didn't think about.” Stiles replied.

“It's comforting to know you planned this out with your usual attention to detail.” Scott panted as they dropped to nearly a crawl at a steep incline.

“I know.” Stiles grinned, carefully pulling Amber up with him as they scaled the slippery hill.

When Scott stopped to lean against a tree trunk, she paused and tugged on Stiles' arm to slow him as he tried to keep moving.

“Maybe the, uh, severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” Scott said between choppy breaths.

Amber shot a brief glare toward Stiles in the dark, rubbing her free hand on Scott's arm in a comforting gesture as he pulled out his inhaler.

They continued on, following the light Stiles shined ahead of them until he suddenly dropped to the ground, dragging Amber down beside him and covering the bright beam shining out from his flashlight. In the dark, they could see more flashlights sweeping back and forth in the distance, illuminating the mist of rain that was beginning falling around them. They could hear search dogs huffing quiet noises between barks.

“Come on.” Stiles shot to his feet and took off before either of them could stop him and he pulled Amber's arm painfully as he took off, not yet relinquishing his grip on her hand.

“Stiles!” Scott and Amber both whisper-shouted at his back.

When her hand slipped from Stiles' as they raced after him in the dark, Amber squeaked unhappily, “Wait up!” She called out iman hushed voice.

“Stiles!” Scott called after him, “Stiles!”

The two moved as fast as they could, trying to keep up with their friend, but he'd gotten ahead of them. Amber huffed when her toe caught on a tree root and she grabbed onto Scott as she righted herself. She was still gripping onto Scott's arms and getting her feet back underneath her when she heard Stiles let out a cut off scream of alarm in the distance, shortly followed by the sound of dogs barking.

He had been spotted.

“Stay right there!” An officer shouted over the sound of the dog barking.

“Shit.” Amber whispered with wide eyes as Scott dragged her along to hide behind a large tree.

“Hang on, hang on. This little delinquent belongs to me.” They heard the Sheriff’s voice announce with disappointment.

“Dad. How're you doing?” Stiles greeted weakly.

“So. Do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?” Sheriff Stilinski questioned.

“No,” Stiles laughed nervously, “Not the boring ones..”

Amber thumped her forehead against Scott's shoulder. “Idiot.” She whispered fondly, shaking her head.

“Now, where're your usual partners in crime? I thought after the night she’d had, Amber would've kept you away from this.”

She felt the heat of it when Scott took a quiet, shaky breath.

“Scott? Scott's home.” Stiles stuttered, “He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for first day back to school tomorrow, so.. Amber went home and now it's just me. In the woods.. Alone.”

“Scott!” The sheriff yelled out, causing them both to flinch from where they were huddled behind the tree, “Amber! You out there? Scott!” There was a pause during which Amber and Scott looked at one another nervously, eyes wide. “Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car and you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy.”

Thunder rolled loudly over the sound of the Sheriff dragging Stiles and their only flashlight off into the distance. The mist from earlier had eased it's way into a drizzle during the encounter and Amber shivered violently as the cold rain began to seep into her clothes.

“Now what?” She asked quietly.

“We- Walk home, I guess.” Scott sighed.

They made their way back through the trees in what Amber could only hope was the right direction, arms coming up to attempt to rub warmth into her own biceps as they moved through the rain.

They both flinched and spun around in fear at the sound of an animal howling in the distance. Amber turned to Scott and they looked at one another with wide, scared eyes before they began walking again. Scott jerked and came to a stop again only a few minutes later when they heard a large bird flapping it's wings overhead in the trees, prompting Amber to walk straight into his back. She reached up to push him forward with hands on his shoulders.

“Come on.” She urged quietly through her own nerves.

Eventually, Scott slowed to a stop again and moved to take a puff from his inhaler, his breathing ragged from all of the hiking. As he brought the inhaler to his mouth, Amber heard the sound of twigs breaking, the sound growing louder at it rushed toward them.

Scott yelled, shoving his friend to the side before falling to the ground himself. Amber screamed as she smacked against the ground, scrambling to hide behind a tree as a stampede of deer came running through. She gasped as she watched the deer only narrowly avoid trampling Scott several times before they cleared.

“Scott,” She whispered in the dark, heart pounding in her ears, “God.. You okay?”

“I dropped my inhaler!” He answered frantically, pulling out his phone for a weak source of light as he raked his hands through the leaves underfoot.

Suddenly, he yelled out again and Amber took a step closer to her friend just in time to watch him stumble and fall down an incline, and then he was gone.

“Scott!” She ran to the place where he’d fallen but as she reached the hillside, she tripped over something large on the ground and tumbled down after him.

Twigs snapped and scratched at her skin as she rolled down the hill, scraping at her hips and back as her shirt rode up, the back of her head smacking down roughly on a large rock when she finally came to a stop at the bottom of the incline.

Scott's heavy breathing was loud in the silence that followed as he righted himself.

“Amber?” He whispered, moving through the leaves.

She moved to sit up but her vision swam and she was forced to drop her head back down to the rock beneath her with a painful thunk.

“Ow.” She moaned quietly.

A loud growling sounded close by and they were both immediately filled with a cold dread. She could hear Scott’s screams but couldn’t make herself move. She shivered both from the cold and from fear, her head throbbing painfully as her heartbeat picked up.

“Scott?” She called out after a moment, voice quiet.

His screaming had stopped and she heard the sound of twigs breaking and footfalls running into the distance until she could no longer hear them at all.

“Scott?” She tried once more, finding the strength to lift her head to look around her.

The forest remained silent.

She rolled onto her front, moving her arms underneath herself and pushing up onto her knees shakily, black spots danced in the corners of her vision but the preserve was so dark that it was difficult to tell if it was due to the throbbing in her head or lack of light.

Crawling toward a large tree, Amber moved to lean back against the trunk. She shakily lifted a hand to the back of her head and felt the warm wetness in the hair at her crown. She withdrew her hand and her fingers came back stained dark.

“Fuck.” She whispered into the trees, unsure what to do now.

She must’ve fallen asleep for a few minutes because suddenly, she found herself waking.

She groaned quietly when she felt the sharp pain in the back of her head, the wound immensely sore where she had it pressed against the trunk of the tree behind her. She pried her eyes open and saw a head of dark hair on the person who was knelt down in front of her.

She tried to lift her head to lessen the pressure on her injury, but her head felt heavy so soon after waking, and it lolled to the side instead. The movement stopped when a hand moved to catch her gently by cupping the side of her face. Her vision swam for a slow second afterward while the hand held her head steady.

She could hear a voice but it sounded muffled and distant, like she had cotton stuck in her ears.

“Scott?” Amber rasped softly.

The first thing she’d felt had been the ache in her head, but as she came to, she began to feel other things. She could feel the way her damp clothes clung to her skin as she shivered. Her whole body felt sore from rolling down the hill but nothing seemed to hurt enough to be broken.

The hand on the left side of her face moved to cup her chin and pressed their thumb into her jaw, shaking her head softly. She let out a quiet, unhappy noise when the movement made her vision swim again.

“Spinny.” She complained.

Amber lifted a hand up to reach for the person's face. When her cold fingertips landed on their cheek she could feel a light stubble covering the person’s sharp jawline.

“Not Scott,” She deduced to herself miserably. She widened her eyes at the mystery person comically for a moment in an attempt to clear her vision, “Definitely not Stiles.”

She let her hand drop to the person’s shoulder to steady herself and pulled her torso up to lean away from the rough bark of the tree.

“Your. Name.” The voice repeated slowly, voice sounding clearer to her ears now that the fuzz in her brain was clearing. The hand on her face squeezed softly and pressed warm fingers into her cheek with each word.

“Amber.” She told them.

Her vision was clearer now. As the rain passed, so had the clouds, and in the glow from the moonlight that now shined through the bare trees above them, she could see the person in front of her with minimal double vision — The incredibly handsome person in front of her.

“Your eyes are very pretty.” She whispered before she could stop herself, looking into the palest eyes she’d ever seen. She wondered absently whether they were blue or green in the daylight.

The guy snorted softly in amusement, shaking his head before regaining a stoic expression, “Turn your head so I can check what we’re dealing with.”

His voice was deep and gruff and incredibly soothing. He continued to gently cup her head in one hand as he examined the bloody patch at the back of her skull, his hands the same rough yet soft combination as his voice.

“What seems to be the damage, Mister Doctor, Sir?” She asked after a moment, flinching when he prodded gently at the swollen area.

“Doesn’t look like you need stitches.” He told her, leaning back to give her some space and wiping his hands on his dark jeans, “Don’t think you hit it hard enough for brain injury either, but it’ll probably hurt for a couple days.”

“Yay for no lasting brain damage.” Amber cheered quietly as she shivered, missing the warmth of his hand against her cheek.

“You should get home. Get some rest.” The guy reached his hands out to her again, gripping one of her own and helping her to her feet with a firm grip at her elbow, “You shouldn’t even be out here in the first place. It’s private property, y’know. This isn’t a part of the preserve.”

They started to move through the woods slowly. Amber’s legs felt shaky and her butt was numb from sitting on the cold ground for so long, but her mystery doctor had moved one of his arms around her waist, supporting a majority of her weight as he maneuvered her feet smoothly over fallen branches and tree roots.

“It’s dark and my flashlight abandoned me,” She defended, “Then I tripped. Then I was abandoned again. Jesus, I hope Scott made it home okay.”

She looked to her doctor-helper with wide eyes, suddenly remembering the blood chilling sound of Scott’s scream before he had run away from her.

“There’s no one else in the preserve, now.” He assured her, “It’s just the two of us. So, whoever he is, I’m sure he made it home, just like you should be doing.”

“Yes, sir.” She mumbled reluctantly with her eyes still glued to his face, trusting that if she tripped he wouldn’t let her fall. She swore she saw his lips twitch into a brief but genuine smile before he shook his head, continuing their hike out of the forest.

“Do you have someone you can call for a ride?” He asked, “I didn’t drive here.”

Amber found herself wondering how he’d gotten out to the preserve on the edge of town if he hadn’t driven, but didn’t voice her thoughts.

“I, uh, yeah. I can try.” She decided. She pulled out her phone to see that less than an hour had passed since their run in with the Sheriff’s Deputies. She couldn’t have been unconscious for more than twenty minutes.

Amber sent a quick text to Scott to check he’d truly made it home, but paused before calling anyone. There was no way she was calling her brother to pick her up at nearly midnight, so she pulled up the number she’d called twice earlier in the evening and hoped for an answer this time.

The man beside her guided her over a cluster of rocks with a hand at her elbow as she brought her phone up to her ear and listened to the dull ringing.

“Amber! You good? You and Scott make it home okay?” Stiles greeted, picking up after only the second ring.

“Not exactly.” She muttered, her phone beeping as a text came through and she read the message from Scott.

Just got home. In bed. Need to talk to u and Stiles before school tomorrow.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she read and reread the message. She was glad Scott was safe at home but was he not at all worried about her?

“What do you mean? You guys okay?” Stiles asked nervously through the phone.

Amber smiled at the stranger beside her in silent thanks as he kept her from tripping over another rock.

“Scott’s gone. I guess he’s home now but I’m still in the preserve. I think I’m almost out to the road-” She said with question in her voice. The man next to her nodded silently and she continued, “Yeah, almost out to the road, but-”

“I’m on my way-” Stiles said quickly. She could hear movement on the other end of the line before his keys jingling loudly and the telltale bang of his front door closing.

“Your dad still working?”

“Yeah, I doubt he’ll be home ‘til morning.” He told her as the door to the Jeep slammed and she heard the loud rumble of the car coming to life, “Just stay with me and I’ll find you when you get out to the road, alright? Let me know when you’re out.”

“I can actually see it now.” She said, as the trees began to clear and she caught sight of the pavement ahead of her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be right there, alright?” His voice was laced with worry and she sighed softly into the phone.

“Stiles, I’m fine, okay? Don’t speed to get to me.”

She heard him huff in response, which meant he was probably already going too fast as he drove the winding roads that led out to the preserve.

The hand on her arm had released her when they got closer to the main road and Amber looked to thank the man next to her but he was gone. She spun in a slow circle as her eyebrows furrowed, thinking that surely he couldn’t have gone far, but he’d vanished.

She looked back to the street after a few minutes and could see headlights shining bright in the distance, reflecting off the telephone wires and the wet pavement.

“Stiles, I see a car coming.”

“Okay, okay, I’m slowing down.”

The car approaching did, indeed slow down until there was a blue Jeep stopped in the road in front of her. Stiles threw the door open and ran from the car as she crossed she street and he didn’t waste a second before he was throwing his arms around her shoulders.

“You okay? I can’t believe Scott left you by yourself.”

His voice was muffled in her hair as he pressed his face into the top of her head. One of his hands trailed up from her shoulders to cup the back of her head and she flinched, whining in pain when he pressed against where she’d hit her head earlier.

“What happened?” He asked immediately, pulling back to look at her. When he caught sight of the red stain on his hand in the glow of the headlights, his eyes went wide, spinning her around quickly to look at the spot he’d touched. “Jesus, Am, what happened?”

“I’m fine, honestly. I’m pretty sure it’s barely bleeding anymore. I tripped and hit my head, but I’m okay. Could use an aspirin or ten, though.”

Stiles spun her back around and looked at her like he didn’t quite believe her, but guided her to the passenger side of the vehicle silently. She climbed inside and he was leaning in to buckle her up before she could begin to do it herself.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked softly, letting his hand linger on her thigh after getting the buckle clicked into place.

“I’m fine,” She promised quietly, flushing under his gentle attention, “Can we just go to your house? If I get caught sneaking in at this point, Jason’s gonna kill me. I’m better off sleeping somewhere else.”

“Yeah, ’course.” He pulled back and gently closed the door before rounding the vehicle and climbing behind the wheel. Turning them around and heading home.

When they got to the Stilinski house, they went straight to Stiles’ room and he closed the door out of habit despite them being the only ones home.

“Let me see your head again so I can get a better look.” Stiles demanded as he approached her.

In the bright light of his bedroom, Amber could now see how dirty she was, her athletic leggings covered in mud streaks and her hands much the same. She could only imagine how filthy her face was. And her hair hair where it was pulled back in a now messy braid.

His hands were gentle as he moved her hair to look at the bump on the back of her head, but she still flinched when he poked at it delicately.

“Sorry.” He apologized from behind her, stroking a hand down the side of her hair.

“It’s fine.” She promised again, “I should shower though. Seriously.”

“Yeah, of course.” He said easily, squeezing her arm before traipsing back into the hallway and to the linen closet, pulling out a clean towel and holding it out to her.

She thanked him and made her way to the bathroom before closing the door behind her. She stripped out of her damp, dirty clothes, undoing the braid in her hair and combing her fingers through it softly. She turned the water on and let it heat up before climbing under the spray. She watched dirt and small bits of leaf trailed down onto the shower floor as she rinsed her hair.

She used the men’s shower products that littered the shower, scrubbing down with the masculine smelling body wash twice. She winced when it stung the tiny scrapes on her hips, and proceeded to gently shampoo around the bump at the back of her head.

When she finished, Amber climbed out and dried the excess water from her hair roughly before drying her body. She secured the towel she’d been given around her tight once she was no longer dripping.

She knocked softly on Stiles’ bedroom door as she made her way back over, not wanting to interrupt him if he was getting changed. The door swung open quickly and Amber jumped in surprise at the sight of Stiles standing in front of her in his doorway, already changed into pajama pants and a tshirt.

He gaped silently as his eyes trailed to where her towel was hooked loosely at the top of her breasts. A small bead of water dripped from the nape of her neck in a slow trail past her collarbones and into her cleavage before disappearing beneath the towel and he couldn’t help but swallow loudly, blinking himself out of his stupor and returning his eyes to the safety of his friend’s face.

“Am I allowed in, or have I been exiled to the hallway?” She laughed when he continued to block the doorway after a few moments.

“Right! Sorry!” He jumped back, opening the door wider and allowing her entrance into the room.

She continued to smile as she stepped past him, a blush rising to her cheeks as she thought about the look on his face as his eyes had trailed down to her chest.

“Can I borrow something to sleep in?” She asked, hand coming up to fiddle with where the towel was secured around her.

“Sure, yeah, what do you want?” He rushed to his dresser and opened a drawer already rifling through it.

“Any tshirt would be good.” She said, biting her lip as she thought about the underwear she’d left in the bathroom. She’d been wearing them on her run earlier and grimaced at the thought of putting them back on.

Stiles triumphantly produced a clean shirt and threw it toward the bed before looking at her, his eyes stuck on where she had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“Would- Would it be weird if I asked for boxers or something?” She asked awkwardly.

“N-No, no I can-“ He slammed the drawer he’d procured the tshirt from and opened another, moving things around aggressively in search of a pair of underwear for her. It took longer than it had for the shirt, but after a minute his hand re-emerged from the drawer with a pair of checkered boxers in his hands and a flush on his cheeks. “Here.”

Amber accepted the shorts, her hand brushing his softly in the exchange and she gulped.

It was hardly the first time she’d slept at one of the boy’s houses, definitely not the first time she’d borrowed a shirt, but there was something significantly more intimate about doing so after a shower — about doing it and not having an article of her own clothing to separate Stiles’ clothes from her naked body.

She toyed with the underwear in her hands, “Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, I can’t get changed if you’re standing right in front of me.”

This seemed to startle him into action and he blushed, coughing into the back of his hand awkwardly in an attempt to hide it.

“Right, I’ll go- I’ll get you some Aspirin!” He said before moving around her and closing the door behind him.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, dropping her towel and drying herself one final time before pulling on the boxers, rolling them twice at the waist to get the fit better before she paused, distracted. Curling her fingers into the material at her hips, she had a thought.

Her mind was racing, imagining Stiles’ own naked body beneath the shorts that were against her bare skin, now. The thought sent a flush creeping up her neck and a tingling heat to her gut.

She swallowed loudly in the quiet room.

Stepping toward the bed, she picked up the basic shirt Stiles had gotten out for her. She moved her arms through the holes and was using her hands to stretch it over her wet hair in an attempt to avoid the sore spot at the back of her head when she heard the door open behind her. She quickly pulled the shirt down over her back and turned to face Stiles where he was standing frozen in the doorway with a glass of water in one hand and two Aspirin cupped in the other.

“I- Sorry,” He said quickly, “I should’ve knocked? I don’t know why I didn’t knock.”

“No worries, Sti.” She told him softly as she pulled her damp hair out from beneath the collar of the shirt. She moved to take the painkillers and the water from him with a smile before sipping from the glass and swallowing the pills.

“I also got out a new toothbrush. Left it by the sink. Figured you’d need one.” Stiles told her as he watched her swallow down the tablets.

“God, yeah. Brushing your teeth with your finger is just- Not the same.” She shuddered at the thought, “I’ll be right back, then.”

Grabbing her towel from the floor, she went back across the hallway into the bathroom. The mirror was still clouded with condensation from her shower and she wiped it clear with the damp towel before putting it in the hamper tucked behind the door.

She brushed her teeth quickly, collecting her dirty heap of clothes from the bathroom floor before she made her way back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Stiles was already standing at the bed, pulling down the blankets and settling into the open side, already armed with the knowledge from previous sleepovers that she preferred to be on the side closest to the wall.

She moved to crawl across his legs to the other side of the bed and climbed underneath the covers, settling down onto her side facing the wall, not wanting to put pressure on the back of her head while she slept. Stiles quietly settled down next to her after switching off the lamp beside the bed.

“You smell good.” He whispered to her in the dark after a moment.

“I smell like you.” She laughed, “I used your shampoo and your body wash.”

“I know.” He said quietly.

She waited a full minute for him to continue, but he said nothing else. She turned to smile into the pillow before closing her eyes and drifting to sleep.

Too soon, morning came and they woke to the sound of Stiles’ alarm clock trilling loudly. Amber cracked her eyes open to find herself on her back, head tilted toward where best friend slept beside her.

During the night, one of his arms had been thrown over her chest, his forearm rose and fell in time with each of her breaths where it was laying across her breasts. He was sprawled out on his stomach, pillow tucked over his head, still sleeping soundly with his pillow muffling the obnoxious beeping.

“Stiles.” She groaned loudly, nudging her friend with her leg beneath the duvet, “Turn it off.”

He woke with a snort, moving to push himself upright with one arm against the mattress and the other where it was still pressed to her chest. He reached out a hand and clicked the alarm off.

“Ow,” She gasped, jerking away when his elbow put the brunt of his weight on her left breast, “Boobs, Stiles. Jesus.”

Stiles’ head snapped around to look at her as he pulled his arm away from where it had been digging into her. His eyes were wide, flicking down to her tshirt covered chest quickly before they traveled up to her sleepy face.

“Sorry.”

She sighed in response, reaching a hand up to sleepily cup the injury with a sleepy frown. It didn’t hurt anymore, the pain gone as quickly as it had come, but she covered the breast protectively for a moment anyway out of principle.

“Uh.. How’s your head?” He asked after pulling his eyes away from where her small hand was touching herself through the shirt. His shirt.

“Better than last night. Probably should take something for it before we head out, though.”

When Stiles crawled out of bed, Amber rolled onto her stomach and smothered herself in the pillow he’d been using, taking a deep breath of the scent under the guise of still being tired. She stayed in bed as Stiles went to shower and get dressed, waiting until he returned before she got up to use the bathroom and brush her teeth.

They stopped at Amber’s house before heading to the school so she could change out of her borrowed sleep clothes and get her backpack.

“Fifteen minutes!” Stiles yelled out the window of the Jeep in warning as she ran inside.

“Time me!” She dared over her shoulder.

She ran upstairs to her bedroom, stripping out of Stiles’ clothes and quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater within two minutes of rushing through the front door.

Using her hair brush, she removed the tangles from the ends of her long, ashy waves, combing through the top with her fingers until her flyaways settled.

Still rushing, she applied deodorant beneath her sweater with one hand and tossed her books into her bag with the other before zipping it shut and throwing it over her shoulder.

The girl ran down the hall to the bathroom and spritzed herself with the perfume on the vanity, fumbling to collect a tube of mascara and her eyelash curler in her hands before jogging back downstairs.

As she passed through the kitchen, she grabbed two apples from the basket hanging on the wall without slowing and continued on until she was out the front door and back at the vehicle where Stiles was waiting.

“Seven minutes.” Stiles told her with an impressed grin as she climbed back into the passenger side of the Jeep. “I think that’s actually a new record.”

She smiled, shoving one of the apples toward his face. She grinned harder when he automatically opened his mouth wide and sunk his teeth into it to take it from her while he backed out of the driveway.

Pulling down the sun visor, she curled her eyelashes and applied mascara quickly before shoving the items into her backpack where it sat on the floor between her feet.

“Dunno how you can do that in a moving car.” Stiles said through a mouthful of fruit, earning a laugh from her in response.

As she grabbed her own apple from where she’d put it for safekeeping between her legs, she looked over to where Stiles was steering the car with his left hand and shifting gears with his right between bites of the fruit. She ate her breakfast as they drove, her eyes bouncing between her friend’s long fingers where they wrapped around the gear shift and his mouth as he munched on his apple, too distracted to notice her ogling.

Stiles was finishing the last bite as he turned into the parking lot at the school, pulling the car into a spot and shutting off the Jeep before he turned to face the girl beside him. “Scott’s got something crazy to show us before class.”

“What?” She asked in confusion, climbing out of the Jeep and pulling her bag over her shoulders as she rounded the car to meet him, “He just told me he wanted to talk. What the hell’s he got to show us?”

Stiles rested a hand at the base of her neck, above her backpack, and guided her as they approached the school.

“Got bit by an animal last night, I guess.” He told her, “Says it’s pretty nasty.”

“Shit.” She said quietly, eyes scanning the bike rack as they passed to see if Scott was there yet, but not seeing his bicycle.

“Deserves it.” Stiles muttered, his hand gliding from her neck over to her opposite shoulder as he wrapped his arm loosely around her, “For leaving you alone in the woods. Hope he has to get a rabies shot and everything.”

“Stiles.” She scolded, “If he got bit by something, I’m pretty sure it happened before he left me.” She said softly, reaching her hand up to pat his where it was curled around her shoulder, “I heard him yell and then he was gone. He was probably in shock.”

“Yeah, well.” Stiles muttered as they came to a stop outside the front of the building to wait for Scott’s arrival, “I stand by what I said.”

She shook her head at him, appreciating the protectiveness, but more concerned about their other friend at the moment.

Only a few minutes passed before Stiles perked up and was releasing her shoulder as Scott came to stand in front of them.

“Okay. Let’s see this thing.” Stiles said excitedly, bouncing on his toes.

They both watched with rapt attention and leaned in close as Scott tugged up his shirt to reveal a large piece of bloody gauze on his side. The size of the bite was significantly bigger than either of them had been expecting. Amber gasped at the sight but Stiles looked absolutely thrilled.

“Ooh!” He said excitedly, reaching out to touch it before getting his hand slapped away by Amber, the girl pulling his hand back and keeping it trapped in her own.

“Yeah. Woah.” Scott said blankly, pulling his shirt back down, “It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

“A wolf bit you?” Stiles questioned incredulously as they slowly walked down the path to the school building.

“Uh-Huh.”

“No,” Stiles said immediately, “Not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.” Scott looked past Stiles’ body to make eye contact with Amber, “Did you hear it?”

“I mean, I don’t know that it was a wolf,” She said slowly, shrugging and shaking her head, “Sorry, Scott.”

“No,” Stiles repeated, looking at Scott, “You didn’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘No I didn’t’? How do you know what I heard?”

“Because California doesn’t have wolves, okay? Not in like sixty years.” Stiles explained, shaking his head. He pulled Amber and himself to a stop as they turned to face Scott at the staircase in front of the school.

“Really?” Both Scott and Amber asked at the same time.

“Yes, Really.” Stiles told them, his eyes bouncing between his two friends. He squeezed Amber’s hand where they were still connected, “There are no wolves in California.”

Amber took in the information and reached down out of habit to check the time on her cell phone, only to find it missing. The pocket of her jeans decidedly empty.

“Stiles, is the Jeep unlocked? I think I left my phone.”

The boy reached his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans and produced his collection of keys, a tiny green bottle opener bright in the jumble of metal. Amber plucked them from his outstretched hand and rushed off without a word to retrieve her phone, only hearing the beginning of what Scott said next.

“Alright, well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf-“

Unlocking the passenger door, she quickly reached in to snatch the device from where it must have slipped out of her pocket and into the seat on the ride to school.

As she made her way back to the building, she fell into step with the beautiful strawberry blonde beside her as she made her way back toward the building, “Hey, Lyds.” Amber smiled, “How was break?”

“Oh the usual," Lydia narrowed her eyes. “We should’ve hung out, though.”

“Soon.” Amber promised her friend as they approached where Scott and Stiles were still in conversation at the bottom of the stairs, the latter’s voice gaining in volume the closer they got.

“-seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since.. Since the birth of Amber Callisto.” He finished, catching sight of their friend and grinning at her cutely, “Hey, Amber, you look- Like you’re gonna walk right past me with Lydia.”

The girls passed by, but while Lydia’s eyes remained focused on the path in front of her, Amber shot her best friends a sweet smile over her shoulder, Stiles’ car keys still gripped in her hand.

“You’re whipped, dude.” She thought she heard Scott mutter before hearing what was definitely the sound of someone being hit followed by Scott’s quiet whine of pain.

Amber couldn’t keep the smile off her face at her friend’s antics, shaking her head as she continued to her locker to collect her things for first period. She turned her head when Stiles passed her locker to get down the hall to his own, her eyes glued to the back of his buzzed head as she pulled out her notebook.

She jumped when Scott stepped into her field of vision and blocked her sight of Stiles.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you alone real quick.” He said, his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack nervously as he avoided her eyes.

“Sure, what’s up?” Amber clamped her notebook between her legs as she reached into her bag to pull out her chemistry textbook to stuff it into her locker where it could stay until third period.

“I just, I wanted to apologize. For last night. I-I don’t really remember getting home, or cleaning up the blood, or even texting you before I fell asleep. It-it’s all kind of a blur.”

“Scott, it’s okay,” She promised, turning her body to face him as she freed up her hands. She reached up to loosely tangle her fingers in the long hair at the side of his head, “You were in shock, okay? I’m not mad at you.”

“Right, I just, I needed to make sure you knew, y’know, that I’d never leave you behind.”

Amber’s grip on his hair tightened and she pressed up into her toes to lean her forehead against his. “I know.” She told him with a smile, knocking their heads together softly before shoving his head away and pulling back to gather her books for English into her arms.

She made her way to the English classroom and slid into her seat, smiling at Stiles where he was sitting at the desk behind her. She pulled out a pencil and tapped it quietly on her desk top as her eyes skimmed over the words printed on the paper in front of her until class started.

Students trickled in slowly, Scott going to his own seat beside Amber. When only a few empty desks remained, Mr. Anderson stood from his chair and moved to begin writing on the blackboard behind his desk.

“As you all know, there indeed, was a body found in the woods last night.” The teacher started, “And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you, that the police have a suspect in custody-”

Amber whirled around to face Stiles, Scott doing the same, but the former shook his head. The Sheriff hadn’t even returned home by the time they’d left for school that morning, so there was no way for him to have obtained the information.

“-which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining the semester.”

Amber turned to face forward again and slouched in her seat as she looked through the paper Mr. Anderson had left on their desks, reading through the syllabus and jotting down notes in the margins as she went. Her attention was torn away only for a moment to lean her head back and see Stiles with a pen in his teeth, using a yellow highlighter on his own paper. She grinned at him from her upside-down position before returning to her notes.

“Class,” A voice cut through the silence in the classroom, the students all looked to see their Vice Principal standing at the front of the room with a beautiful brunette. “This is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

The girl, Allison, was nervously fiddling with the end of the thin scarf she had wrapped around her neck. She smiled, looking at the ground and making her way to the back of the room to sit in the seat behind Scott.

Amber watched as Scott turned to face Allison, pen between his fingers in offering. Both girls’ faces clouded in confusion before Allison smiled softly and took the pen from Scott’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks.”

Amber watched in awe at the way Scott continued staring at the new girl for just a moment too long before turning back to face the front of the room with a grin on his face.

“Are you staying to watch tryouts today?” Stiles asked Amber as he came to a stop where she was standing at Scott’s locker later that day after classes ended.

“Yeah, of course.” She told him with a grin, “Gotta watch my boys make first line, don’t I?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, engulfing her face in the palm of his large hand and playfully pushing her head away as she cackled.

“Can someone tell me how ‘new girl’ is here all of five minutes, and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?” A girl from their English class asked as she came to stand behind Stiles.

“Lydia’s really not so bad. She’s a completely different person when you get to know her.” Amber defended.

Stiles ignored his friend and turned to the girl, “Because she’s hot.” He stated, “Beautiful people heard together.” He flicked Amber on the nose after his statement and she furrowed her brows. She rubbed at her nose before leaving them beside Scott’s locker and making her way across the hall where Allison, Jackson, and Lydia were standing.

“Um, I can’t. It’s family night this Friday.” Allison was saying as Amber reached the group, “Thanks for asking.”

“You sure?” Jackson pushed, “Everyone’s going after the scrimmage.”

“You mean like football?” Allison asked innocently, eyes drifting to Amber and smiling.

Amber shook her head at the girl, about to answer when Jackson’s voice cut in again.

“Football’s a joke in Beacon.” He laughed, “The sport here’s lacrosse. We’ve won the state championship for the past three years.”

“Because of a certain captain.” Lydia added, smiling at her boyfriend.

“Takes a whole team to win!” Amber said sweetly, her thoughts drifting to Scott and Stiles warming the bench for the entire season the year before.

Jackson rolled his eyes at her before returning his attention to the new girl, “Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don’t have anywhere else-“

“Well I was going to-“

“Perfect!” Lydia interrupted what was likely to be an excuse from Allison, “You're coming.” Lydia and Jackson wandered off down the hallway, leaving Allison stunned in their wake.

“It’s actually kind of fun to watch.” Amber smiled, “I’m going too. You, Lydia, and me can all sit together, if you want. But, if you really don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. Lydia honestly won’t be mad. She doesn’t realize the force behind her own words sometimes.”

“No, I-I’ll stay and watch.” Allison decided.

The two girls caught up with Lydia on their way to the lacrosse field and the three of them settled down on a set of bleachers on the side of the pitch.

Amber smiled and waved when Scott turned to look at where they were sitting, but he paid no attention to his best friend, his eyes glued to the darker-haired brunette beside her. Scott’s gaze was torn away by Coach Finstock throwing a lacrosse stick with a larger net into the boy’s hands along with a new helmet.

“McCall! You’re in goal.” Coach told him.

“I’ve never played.” Amber heard Scott defend, clutching the new stick in his hands.

“I know,” Coach said, “Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get ‘em energized! Fired up!”

Amber’s shoulders slumped slightly. She knew that Scott had worked his ass off over the last year to try and improve his skills, but he’d never practiced in goal. She was unsure how her friend could attempt to impress the coach if he was being thrown into a new position just to make the rest of the team feel better about themselves.

“What about me?” Scott asked.

“Try not to take any in the face.” Coach supplied, reaching a hand up to slap Scott’s cheek softly before turning to the rest of the players around the field, “Let’s go! Come on!”

Amber rubbed her hands together in an attempt to keep them warm in the cold, winter air of the afternoon. She watched Stiles settle onto the bench, putting his helmet on the ground between his feet. He craned his neck to look for her on the crowded bleachers and grinned when he found her.

Shooting him a thumbs up and a smile, she waved before he turned his attention back to the field. Amber watched Scott make his way into the goal, helmet on his head and the goalie stick clutched in his hands.

“Who’s that?” Allison asked, looking at where Scott was waiting.

“Him?” Lydia asked, “I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

Amber rolled her eyes at her friend, about to cut in when Allison spoke again, sounding self-conscious.

“He’s, just- He’s in our English class.”

Allison turned her attention to Amber in question and Amber smiled at the girl’s lack of subtlety before the whistle blew loudly, interrupting them.

Their attention went to the field and Amber watched Scott in confusion as he clutched at his ears over the thick plastic that covered them. He looked like he was in pain and Amber rose slightly from her seat, debating going over to check on her friend.

Before she could move, another player walked toward the goal, stopping ten yards away and lobbing the ball as hard as he could at her friend. Amber flinched when Scott immediately took the ball to the head. It thunked loudly against the plastic of his helmet before he fell to the ground in the goal. Players on the field laughed at his pain and Amber slumped back to a seated position with a frown, seeing Stiles make a similar movement where he sat on the bench in front of them.

“Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!” Someone on the field yelled.

Scott began to pull himself up, getting ready for the next player.

“Scott McCall.” Amber finally recovered enough to tell Allison, leaning close to give a small amount of privacy from Lydia. “He’s one of my best friends. Very much single.. Y’know, if you’re interested.”

Allison blushed and smiled, but refused to look at the face of the girl sitting next to her.

Another player ran up on the goal, throwing the ball to the left corner and straight into the net of Scott’s stick.

“Yes!” Amber squeaked in excitement.

Scott looked at the ball he was holding for a moment as if surprised he’d caught it at all.

“Yeah!” Stiles called out after a few seconds had passed, turning to look at Amber behind him for a moment and also wearing a look of pleased surprise on his face.

The third player in line rushed forward, shooting the ball low at Scott’s feet, but the ball was again, miraculously stopped from reaching the goal by Scott’s stick.

Stiles and Amber both yelped in surprise, the latter’s hands going above her head as she squealed excitedly.

Scott proceeded to catch every ball that was thrown at him, letting no goals pass as his friends watched on in amazement.

“He seems like he’s pretty good.” Allison observed.

“Yeah, very good.” Lydia agreed, impressed.

“He’s been practicing like crazy.” Amber supplied, unable to wipe the proud grin off her face.

They all watched as Jackson stepped forward, moving to the front of the line and readying himself for a shot. His feet came off the ground as he launched the ball toward the goal.

Scott caught that one too.

Stiles shot out of his seat when he yelled, his arms outstretched as he spun to look at the people around them, ensuring that they’d all seen the save.

“That is our friend!” Stiles announced loudly, looking toward Amber on the bleachers and pointing to where Scott was standing on the field. She nodded at him with an incredulous laugh.

Scott was good.

[night-market-if]

Dev Blog 7/1/23

Hello my reader!

I'm here with a mini development blog for you all. So far I have added to the base game something like 40k more words. This is not including coding. I have also cleaned up some code errors that wouldn't let you get past the Deep, and negated a conversation with Hazel in the last chapter.

All I have left now is a clean up of some minor name codes and the editing of all the NSFW scenes. Then I can have a few people beta it and I can redo the UI of the game.

I would also like to say that the asexual route within the game is going to change a bit. The more I have learned about asexuality, the more it has come to my attention that there are a vast amount of ways that this can be represented. So, I have decided to address this by allowing an option to have a conversation about this with your RO before any NSFW scene. It can be that the MC doesn't like sex at all to the MC not opposed to it when it feels right. I know this is going to not satisfy some people but this is kind of what I feel comfortable writing. I feel like, at this point in my writing career, I just don't know how to approach it in the variation that asexuality actually is. That might change as I continue writing but for now, that's how I would like to keep it.

That being said, the sexuality code in general has also changed. You no longer have a code saying you are attracted to just men or just women. You can flirt with whoever you want without consequence. You can also deny anyone you want without consequence. Instead, I will just be coding in when you choose which RO you wish to explore the Night Market with. Polys will of course come after all of that. I felt this was also a fair representation. If you are someone who does not want to flirt with a certain gender, then don't chose the flirt options for it. It will then not open any of the flirtation scenes. Or, you know, tell Milo and Bella to just back off. :)

Now onto some personal stuff.

I am stressed. I mean, like really stressed. I thought I would have everything done by today and I am not done. Mainly, I feel bad for my Kickstarter backers. I have so much I owe them and everything is only in about the 70% done area. I am so sorry guys. I have been beating myself up over this for a while now when it became clear that this was far more work than I thought. It's crazy to me. I'm absent from Tumblr and Discord at this point and yet I have been busier with work than I've ever been.

I'm also terrified I'm just not doing enough to the base game. Things that I thought would fit great, ended up not fitting at all. Things that I thought would be an easy addition turned out to be way out of the realm of my capability. It's just all been a learning experience where I've felt like I'm letting you guys down.

And at the end of the day? I really just want to write Book 2.

I know I owe no one an explanation. I've just had this weird feeling I've had to battle the last few months where I am feeling like I have to choose between my family life and my work life. And I hate it. My husband took two weeks off work just so I could work like crazy and I am still not done which is bothering me. Which means weekends are sometimes spent not with my kids but instead working away again. And, because we are a split family, it isn't always like I can make up for this time mid week.

I'm not really looking for advice on this. I'm just kind of trying to be transparent. The stress is for sure getting to me and believe me, I am looking forward to this going up on Steam more than anyone at this point. And then I'm sure I'll spiral because I'll be certain somehow barely anyone will buy it. LOL! But hey, at least I just got two more cats to add to my life. They can purr away my stress that night.

That's everything guys. Thank you for being who you are and I promise you, I am taking care o myself. I'm just a stressed person by nature, I think.

I hope everyone else is having a good summer and you all are getting some wonderful reading time in. If you celebrate the 4th, here's to hoping you have lots of good food that day!

With love,

Zinnia

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 24

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: mentions of racism, family drama

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 2743

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 24

Melody woke the next day to an empty bed and the sun coming through the window.  She groaned and pulled her pillows over her face.  If the bed was empty, Steve was up.  If Steve was up then Steve had met her parents without him, and god knew how that was going.  He was probably cornered in the kitchen, being force-fed while they asked a million questions.  She’d have to get up and rescue him, but she needed a moment to collect herself.  It was early and there were so many stressors working on her right now.  The lingering stress of the hacking.  Potentially needing to get a new job.  The late-night travel.  Now she was here in her family home, a place she hadn’t stepped foot in over two years, to spend time with her parents who she hadn’t seen in person since then.

It was a lot, and she really wished that her boyfriend was still in bed with her so that she could talk it out with him.

She groaned again, rolling over and picking up her phone.  She opened it up and immediately was greeted with a tirade of racism about who Steve was dating. She sighed.  Today was going to be a nightmare.

She let her phone fall on the mattress and lay there willing herself to get up, or at least fall back asleep.  After a while, the second didn’t happen, and she relented and did the first, rolling over and heaving herself up.

It was cold out of the covers.  Colder than New York was right now.  It wasn’t unheard of for it to snow here during November and she wondered if they might see some during their stay.  She pulled on a robe and slippers and went to use the bathroom.

By the time she was heading down to the kitchen, she was feeling a little fresher and slightly more prepared for this. 

The scene she’d been imagining ended up being fairly accurate.  Her mother and father were sitting at the kitchen table with Steve and a woman she’d recognized from Facebook as her brother’s girlfriend, Kieu.  Her father was still in his pajamas, a flannel set with blue and white stripes that looked like it came from a catalogue for old men’s pajamas, paired with a mismatched red robe, green slippers, and a black beanie covering his bald spot.  Her mother on the other hand was fully dressed, in a brightly colored wool dress, her braids spilling out over the top of a bright headscarf.  Kieu was bundled up more than anyone else in jeans, a long blue cable knit sweater, a black scarf, and a black wool hat.  Her long black hair was braided down her back and she held a cup of steaming liquid to her face.  Steve was still in his pajamas but he’d pulled on a gray sweater over them.  Everyone had plates piled high with eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, and pancakes.

The fire was lit, but going on the temperature, it was a recent occurrence and the two dogs were now lying as close to it as they could get.

Steve saw she was up first and stood.  “Mel.  You’re up,” he said.

Her parents both jumped to their feet.  Everyone stood frozen for a split second and then her parents rushed forward.  Her mother reached her first, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing over the side of her face.  “Oh, my goodness.  I am so happy you are home.  Don’t go putting so much time between your visits again.”

Melody stood stiff, patting her a little awkwardly but not pulling away.  “Well - we’ll see,” she said, skirting the statement.

Her dad put his arms around them both and kissed Melody’s cheek.  “You’re looking well, Mel.  We’ve been talking to your boyfriend.”  He pulled back and looked at her.  “Let me get you some breakfast.  It was my turn to cook.”

Melody looked at her mother.  “Really, mom?  You’re gonna subject Steve to the Englishman’s cooking first?”

She laughed and patted Melody’s arm.  “We researched before you all came.  I know his parents were Irish.  We didn’t want to kill him with spice for his first meal here.”

“And I appreciate it,” Steve said, watching from the table.

“Come.  Come.  Sit.  It’s been too long,” her mother said, pulling Melody toward the table.

Steve kissed her when she reached the table and Kieu stood and held out her hand.  She was shorter than Melody and much shorter than Steve, but still had a few inches on her mother.  “Hi.  It’s so good to finally meet you,” she said.  “I’m Kieu.”

Melody took her hand.  It was a surprisingly firm handshake that made Melody instantly smile.  “I know.  River talks about you all the time.  And I’ve seen the pictures.  It’s good to meet you too.”

She took her seat next to Steve and looked at him. “So, were you getting pumped for information.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “No. Well - there’s been questions.  But it’s been fine.”

“Mom!” Melody yelped.  “Give him a chance to breathe.”

“Oh he did fine,” she replied.  “We just want to get to know him.”

Her dad brought a cup of coffee over to her.  “How have you been?” he asked as he set it down.

This felt so strange.  She wasn’t even sure why she’d done this except that she wanted Steve to be part of her family and this was a step to get there. The thing was; aside from her brother, she’d barely even spoken to any of her family in years.  In the two years since she’d been in New York, it was barely more than a brief Facebook message.  Before that, she didn’t speak to her parents at all for a full year, and then only on holidays or special occasions.

They had really hurt her.  Their rejection of Bobbi had hurt.  They were the reason the two women had needed to spend time living out of their car or in shelters while they waited for college to start.  Now here they were playing nice and acting like there wasn’t all that pain looming over them.

Melody wasn’t sure that she had a full-blown confrontation in her.  Not yet at least.  But she could name-drop Bobbi constantly and see what happened.

“Generally pretty good.  Bobbi and I moved into a bigger place.  Her boyfriend is going to move in too,” she said.

Her parents looked at each other and her father dipped his chin forward.  Her mother nodded in return.  “How is Bobbi?” she asked.

Melody’s blood boiled, and her eyebrows knitted together.  Steve’s hand moved, taking hers and linking their fingers together.  “Well, you know Bobbi,” Melody said, her jaw twitching as she tried to reign in her anger.  “She’s very resilient.  Bounces right back from adversity.  She’s got a job in a dinner theater.  And some on-camera work.  A very nice boyfriend.”  No thanks to you.

“That’s so good to hear, Mel,” her father said. “I’m glad she’s got things together.”

That was the final straw.  She pushed herself back from the table and stood.  “I can’t do this. I can’t.  I have to go.  Steve.”

Steve stood beside her, moving like lightning as he got to his feet.  She was shaking, and the edges of her vision were wavering thanks to the pure white hot rage she felt.  “I’ve got you,” he said.

“Mel, please,” her father said.

“Wait,” her mother added, getting to her feet.

She wheeled back to them.  Poor Kieu was sitting there like a deer in headlights, her gaze flicking from the people in front of her to the hall, as she tried to decide if she could flee.

“No.  I can’t just sit here pretending everything is okay.  Talking about how good Bobbi has it.  Acting like everything is good.  We were living in homeless shelters because of you!” she shouted.

Kieu jumped to her feet. “I’m just…” she pointed to the hall and then quickly scurried off down the hall.

“Honey,” her father said.

“No!  No!  Don’t honey me.  You had one job as my parents, and you couldn’t even do it.  All you needed to do was to open your home to your niece when she’d been kicked out.  You know her parents were wrong.  I know you know that.  But instead, you would rather we both be homeless!”  She was shouting and visibly shaking.  Steve put his hand on her back.  It was the one thing keeping her in any way together right now.  If River had been sleeping he wouldn’t be now.

Her mother took a few steps closer.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “Melody, you have every right to be angry.  I’ve gone through so many stages trying to figure out what happened and why I made the choices I did.  And the truth was, I was scared to lose one of the only friends I’d made in this town.  I tried to blame you and Bobbi for it.  But it wasn’t your fault.  You should expect your parents to accept you.  And I was a coward.  I’m ashamed of myself.”

“Do you know what it was like for us?  For Bobbi?  She couldn’t even go to a women’s shelter with me,” Melody said.  “We were sleeping in cars some nights because she was terrified.”

“I can’t even imagine.  Karla was so wrong and so cruel for what she did to Bobbi.  I’ve always raised you to believe in family and helping out people in need and acceptance, and you did everything I raised you to do, and I failed you,” she said.  “I’m sorry, Melody.”

Melody didn’t know what to do or how to feel.  She’d been carrying this around with her for so long.  Having your child be homeless because you didn’t want to make waves was such a failure.  She had this anger in her that she didn’t want to let go.  But here they were telling her all the things she’d been wanting to hear.  They were the ones that were wrong.  They were sorry.  This was what she wanted.  She’d dreamed about it and played it out in her head over and over.

So why couldn’t she just accept it?

“I just - I - I need some air,” she said.

She didn’t move for a moment and both her parents just stared at her, holding themselves like they were trying to approach an injured animal.  When she did break, it was at a run, dashing for the back door and shoving it open.

A gust of icy air hit her as soon as she stepped through the door, but it didn’t stop her.  Thick frost coated the deck, and she nearly slipped as she moved to the railing.  She was breathing heavily as she tried to stop herself from completely breaking down into tears, and every breath she pulled felt like she was breathing glass.

Steve had followed her out and he slowly approached her.  As soon as his hand touched her shoulder she turned into him, burying her face in his chest as she burst into tears.  He held her, rubbing her back in slow soothing circles.  His body was like a furnace compared to the air around them and she pushed as close to him as she could as she cried.

“You’ve been holding that in for a long, long time, huh?” he said as he held her.

She nodded.  Maybe that was all this was.  She had erected a dam to hold back her emotions just to survive.  And now here she was, with the apology she’d been waiting for and she didn’t need to hold on to it, but she didn’t know how to let it go.

“I don’t know what to do.  I’ve been waiting for them to say sorry for so long, and now here it is, and it doesn’t even feel like enough.  But I came here.  I came here wanting validation.  I wanted to have that relationship.  It’s on the table.  Why can’t I just accept it?”  She looked into his eyes, searching for the magic answer that would fix all of this.  “They didn’t even reach out to us to say they were sorry.  They waited until I was here confronting them.”

Steve cradled her cheek, his palm warm against her chilled skin.  “Honey, it’s okay if you need time to process.  It’s okay if you decide that you can’t forgive them.  But I think you want to.  And I think in the long run, for your sake, you’ll feel better if you do.  Even if you do and still don’t talk to them again.  You want to let this go.  You want it off your shoulders.  What they did was terrible.  They know that.  It’s cost them and they have to live with the consequences of their actions.  But you survived it.  You got through and you thrived. Look at what you’ve done.  And Bobbi too.  All despite your parents.  I know that’s beside the point, but here we are, you’re in the position of power.  What you do now, needs to be for you, because they weren’t thinking of you when it mattered most.”

She nodded and hid her face in his chest again.  He held her and slowly ran his hands up and down her back.  “Whatever you want to do, I’m here to support you, Mel. But do you think we can do it back inside?”

She started laughing and pulled back.  “If I go back inside, I’ll have to talk to them.”

Steve shook his head.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She loved him for believing that.  She leaned up and kissed him before moving her hand to his and leading him back inside.

Both her parents stood as she came in.  Her mom took a tentative step forward.  “Your breakfast is here,” her dad said.  “Come in and get warm.”

She walked in and took a seat and both her parents sat down and stared at her nervously.  She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was going to have to say something.

“That whole thing really fucked me up, you know?” she said.  “Not just being homeless, but knowing that being in our family had conditions.  You raised me making jokes about me marrying Bobbi.  She was over all the time when you all thought she was a boy.  Even as a teenager, you let us sleep in the same room.  Then she comes out and suddenly she’s not welcome?  Not even when I said I’d be staying with her?”

“You’re completely right, honey,” her dad said.  “I should have stood up for you both.  I should have put my foot down.”

“I need time to let this go fully.  I’ve been carrying it for so long.  You didn’t even call me, you could have reached out to have this conversation so many times between then and now.  If I hadn’t come today would you have said sorry?”

Both of them dropped their eyes.  That was as clear a no as if they had said the word.

“Mel,” her mom said.

She shook her head.  “I’m allowed to be pissed!” she snapped.  “I’m allowed to, mom!  I lived in a car because they wouldn’t let Bobbi in the women’s shelter!  It’s been years since then and I got nothing from either of you!  I want to forgive you.  I believe you’re sorry and I want to accept that, but I’ve had to carry this for years.  It’s going to take time.”

“It’s okay, Melody,” her father said.  “We deserve that.”

She sighed and looked up at them. “I came here because I miss you all.  I want things to be okay.  I wanted to introduce you to Steve because I’m serious about him and you’re my parents, and even if you still hadn’t realized you were in the wrong, you could see I’d found someone who loved me and I plan to spend my life with.  I want to spend Thanksgiving with you all.  I want to forgive both of you.  But I have a lot of hurt, and currently a lot of stress in my life too.  So I might lash out while I’m here.”

Her parents looked at each other and nodded.  “As long as you’re here, we can live with that,” her dad said.

// NEXT

[starbeltconstellation]

hiiiii i hope you have been having an amazing summer! i hope this isnt that bothersome to ask since you’re still writing it out but i would like to ask around what month do you think you would be able to get the chapter that you are writing to come out? i also saw that you were saying that you were at around 40k words for this chapter so i don’t want it to seem like i’m trying to rush or anything, just genially curious. also hope that the fix doesnt end up being dropped for what ver reason since i think it might just be the only fic for the SW fandom that actually has me going back and re-reading and still able to enjoy it(which is a bit of a rare thing these days since i’m always surrounded by smut having fics, which is not a bad thing, but it can get old quite quickly).

also i have to say that this is the first time where the slow burn has actually been a slow burn and not just a lazy thing written out and having been given much thought. i really like how you have so far made each encounter between the oc and anakin not a copy and paste of their first encounter (with the oc being afraid of her life and anakin being just confused but both of them trying to figure out and work out their problems as each chapter comes out). this is all i have to say for now ig so again i hope you have an amazing day!!! 💕

Helloooo! 😊💕

Thank you so very much for the lovely ask and well wishes, dear reader duckling! 😁��️✨ It truly made my day to see a new ask in my inbox . Hehe. ❤️❤️✨

And I’m soooo sorry for the late response! 😭❤️💔 It just takes me a while to get to asks sometimes with my life problems going on, especially because I want to dedicate the right amount of attention to giving my thoughts. But I just wanted you and all my other readers to know that I’m never ignoring you. 💕💕

It’s completely fine for you to check in and ask me about my chapter progress, dear! 💕✨ Makes me at least know someone’s still out there excited to see it. Haha.

I’ll put the rest of my answer under a read more:

Well, what I do for my Fic chapters is I try to split up the scenes from scenes from the actual EPISODES from The Clone Wars, and then write the other scenes from my own planned storyline in between everything else. What I had ORIGINALLY planned was to have each chapter be one episode of TCW, or another original storyline arc that I had chosen to add (ie; the Kudon III storyline). However, I very quickly realized that writing out a completely original storyline takes a lot fucking longer and more brain power than expected. 😭😖🫠 And not only that—the 🔥sensual Melakin scenes 🔥 take even TWICE as long as that. Lol. 😭 And so—QUITE sadly—I have had to admit to myself that it just isn’t feasible for my chapters to be that long, even though cutting TCW episodes in multiple chapters might break the flow of the story.

And so, after I FINALLY get out this whopper of a chapter (which I HOPE to have completed by the first weeks of August), I am NEVERRRR writing a chapter this long again. Lol. 😭🤦‍♀️

So rest easy with that, in the sense that hopefully a hiatus will never be this long again. I think the problem with writing chapters this long is that—for one—my SW hyperfixation is gone, which makes my writing way slower that it used to be (which I fucking HATE 😭🙃). For another, the problem is my depression steals my energy and motivation, and while the 25% of lovely reader comments I get out of the 70% silent ghost readers that I try to “pspspsps” into my comment feed, give me boosts of that good ol’ serotonin—at the same time: I think the problem is that, with the shorter chapters beforehand, I could write so much in one day, because in doing so, I would already get halfway done in only a few hours. But with such a long chapter, it makes me kind of dread writing for so long, to not even have the satisfaction of pressing “post” at the end of it all in reward. Lol. 😭💔🫠

And so, this chapter has gone at about a snails pace for that very reason. 😭😅

So, what I NOW am planning to do is to split each TCW episode and original storyline I come up with into probably a three arc format (ie; three chapters), which will make it much easier for me to write without getting exhausted. That way, the chapters should only be at the most 10 to 15,000 words (hopefully. Lol). 😅😂❤️

BUT! I will ease your mind by saying that no matter WHAT—I am NEVER abandoning this story. ✊😖❤️ It’s literally going to be my magnum opus. Now—I KNOW authors say that all the time and then become little lying liars who lie—BUT unlike them, I am writing this dream fix it fic specifically for ME. 😂❤️ So the only way I can have the story of my dreams is to FINISH this things someday. So I hope that eases your worries. Lol. 💕

And awwwww! 🥰🥰🥰💕💕💕 Thank you SO, so much for your kind words about my story and writing! It means the world to me that my fic seems to stand out on A03 and Wattpad to a lot of SW fans. Haha.

And thank you SO much for your compliments on how I’m writing Melakin’s developing slow burn/relationship and in their separate character arcs. It was really important to me that Anakin and Melanie weren’t just getting together to get TOGETHER. I like my stories to mean something, and if you’ve read my other meta posts, then you’ll know that Melakin’s romantic relationship has actually been PURPOSEFULLY paralleled with Anidala, to show the difference between how someone you love can actually make you grow to be BETTER, instead of a relationship where they both enable each other’s worst tendencies (even though the love may have been genuine).

But yeah, it was REALLY important to me that their slow burn was actually REALISTIC, because yes, I’ll admit some slow burns keep the two people apart for way longer than necessary just to have drama. But for Melakin, there’s just SO many reasons they can’t get together yet (ie; the Anidala secret marriage, Melanie’s lingering terror of Anakin, Anakin and Melanie still being barely even friends, and also Anakin’s future moral decay that Melanie remains at the same time disgusted by while trying to stop it from happening), so it makes the slow burn more genuine to me. Their relationship develops the more their CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT develops.

But anyway! You’ll be happy to know that I’ve COMPLETELY FINISHED all of my original scenes for my next chapter! 😊💕 So now—I only have to follow the transcript of TCW episode and write out the actual EPISODE STORYLINE—which will be WAY easier and shouldn’t take as long as before.

I’m not making any promises—but I’m AIMING for a new posted chapter in sometime in the next two weeks. So… just a heads up with that. ❤️❤️💕✨

Thanks so very much again for the ask, dear reader! 😊✨💕 It made my week. Haha.

Until next time! ✨❤️

-

To any new readers that stumble across this and are curious enough to check out my fic:

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@lemons-2-limes

@shoniwake

[atinylittlepain]

Of Saints and Sinners - Chapter 6

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

series masterlist

The team starts their journey home and things start to change between her and Joel. Will she finally start letting him in? Or will he have to forget about her and whatever they had shared?

warnings | 18+ angst, canon-typical descriptions of injuries, smut-adjacent (finally)

The group spends the rest of the night in the old gas station. In the morning she tells them she wants to get back to Jackson in one trip. Joel keeps his mouth shut after their conversation last night, and it’s agreed that they’ll all keep moving, five days until they’re back home. 

Alex and Steve might be fooled by her confident attitude, but Joel can see the way she winces when she hoists herself up onto one of the horses, Steve swinging his legs over behind her. One night wasn’t going to heal the damage she had been dealt, and Joel can see she’s feeling it. Regardless, the group sets off on the highway back towards Wyoming.

The days start to pass languidly by, long stretches of squinting highway and nights spent hunkered down in withering buildings. She hasn’t been talking much to any of them, only sharing faint whispers with Steve that Joel pretends to not be curious about. He’s trying hard to not be such a guy about it, but honestly that’s never been an issue until her. For the first time since the world ended, Joel Miller is jealous.

He tries to hold onto what she had told him, that Steve wasn’t her man. And the further along the journey home they got, the more Joel was starting to understand their relationship. This was an intimacy past whatever Joel was getting worked up about. This was two people who had been through everything together. Something deeper than sharing love, or blood, or a name. They had shared life, or whatever there was left of it. 

He was still trying to figure out how Alex fit into this equation. They treated him like a little brother almost. Someone a little less worn than them, but still dear. What Joel saw before him was a family, the only kind that could arise in a world like this.

They’re two days out from home, settling in for the night. Her and Joel stay up while Alex and Steve get some rest in the first leg of the night, hunkering down in another cleaned out gas station. 

They sit shoulder to shoulder, backs against an old beer cooler. 

For maybe the first time, she speaks up first, “what kinda records do you have?”

“Don’t have many, you’ll have to share whatever you’ve been stashing. A buggy Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, Hank Snow.”

“A real country boy, huh?” She quirks up her mouth in a split grin at him. He thinks to himself, this is new.

“Well what would you prefer?” He’s playing along. It feels weird to him.

“I’m guessing you weren’t listening to much Mazzy Star before this all went down?” He looks at her blankly, she smiles.

“That’s one I did manage to find, their 1993 album, seemingly intact. I’m gonna play it until it’s worn out when we get back.” He likes the sound of that, the promise of her presence.

“Anything else?” She turns her head, resting her cheek on her shoulder as she looks up at him. “You know Elliott Smith?” Again, Joel’s got nothing. She lets out a short laugh. “How about the movie Good Will Hunting?” 

“Robin Williams, right? A bunch of therapy talk.” He’s rewarded with a wide smile. “Yeah, Elliott Smith was the soundtrack to that.” Joel nods, afraid to admit he can barely remember the movie in the first place.

“He was big in Portland, where I was from, at least in the indie scene. My dad - he was a disc jockey, always on the up and up on music, always bringing home good shit for me to listen to. Elliott Smith was my favorite artist he showed me. You might like him, he’s folk-adjacent, lots of guitar.” He’s never heard her say so much at once, and even though he has no idea what indie or folk-adjacent means, all he wants is for her to keep talking. For just a second, Joel feels like he’s in a different world with her, a world in which none of this ever happened. Just two people talking about music on a normal night. And then he blinks back into reality, the still fading bruises on her neck, the bandage wrapped firmly around her arm, the way she talks in the past tense. She seems to snap back into this world at the same time, clearing her throat and looking down at her hands in her lap. He hates it, the sudden drop.

“Anyways, gotta get home first. But I’ve got one of his records too, I’ll play it for you.” Just like back in that field, Joel doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s already done it. He reaches out, sliding his palm under her own, interlacing their fingers. Her lungs catch on an inhale, turning her face to look at him from under those damn eyelashes. His other hand ghosts over the hinge of her jaw, thumb brushing the arc of her chin. While his brain blares the what the fuck alarm, he’s leaning into her, twisting in until she does the rest, leaning up and forward into him, and it’s a kiss that could only be shared between two broken people. It’s a trembling brush, a frightened test. She squeezes his hand and he closes the gap this time. The second one is a little more certain. I want this. I want you. This is real. I’m terrified that this is real.

They freeze before slowly unfurling from each other, resting their heads back against the wall. He’s afraid to look back at her and see regret, but she breaks the silence first, “was that alright?” He thinks his head’s going to explode. She’s asking if that was alright for him?

Joel swallows, “uh-hum, yeah. Was that alright to you?” Neither of them have looked at each other yet, just glancing at each other out of the corners of their eyes. He sees the sliver of her smile. “Yeah, that was alright, Joel Miller.”

… 

Over the next two days of travel, she gets quiet again. Joel thinks he royally fucked up, that maybe the more she thought about what they shared, the less alright it became to her. He feels selfish, downright ridiculous, that this is what he’s worrying about. He can see that she’s still in a decent amount of pain in how she moves, sudden, wincing jerks. She won’t let any of them look at her ribs again.

Mercifully, it’s an uneventful return home. They make it back through the mountains, and their appearance on the edge of town causes a serious stir, people gathering to watch the ragged crew ride in. They dismount, and Maria is quick to take her under her arm and out of the crowd to a former doctor’s house. Joel can hear hushed whispers regarding “the saint’s” return. Back home, back to all her secrets he still doesn’t know.

Steve and Alex look at Joel, both nodding to him, before walking off towards their home. The job is over, and Joel heads home too.

Ellie is begrudgingly happy to see him return, asking too many questions that he refuses to answer. He wonders if things will return to the way they had been, an icy distance, Steve’s warning. He hopes they won’t.

…

That night, there’s a knock at Joel’s door. It’s Alex. Joel steps out, sitting with the man on the porch.

“Thought you’d wanna know, she’s doing alright. Doc did a full checkup. No broken ribs, just some serious bruising, have her taking freezing cold baths to reduce the swelling. She’s at home now, sleeping like the dead. Think she’s already feeling a lot better just being back.”

Joel nods at this, not realizing he needed so badly to know how she was doing.

Alex takes a sharper inhale, “Steve also told me to tell you he was sorry for being a dick. He’s a hard one to get an apology out of, just a little too proud.” Joel huffs at that.

“Don’t have to apologize. I get that, wanting to keep someone safe. I was happy to help you do that.” Alex rubs his palms on his thighs before standing up, turning to leave before thinking twice and looking back at Joel.

“Don’t tell her I told you this, but she told me she likes you, Miller. That’s a high compliment. Thinks you’re one of the good ones. Please don’t prove her wrong.” Before Joel can respond to this, Alex is already shuffling off his porch, walking out into the dimming night.

…

Joel tries hard to get back to business as usual. Picking patrol shifts back up, working with Tommy. He doesn’t see her around at all that first week back, figures they have her laying low while she’s still recovering. He sees Steve at the bar one night and the man nods at Joel, a silent extension of peace, a thank you.

He wonders to himself if it’s better to just forget what happened, that it’d be best to let it lay dormant, to stop thinking about her. But he can’t, the feeling of her hand in his is what he falls asleep to and wakes up with.

Joel certainly isn’t a romantic now, nor was he before. He learned not to be the hard way, with Sarah’s mom, who left him and his babygirl before he knew love was capable of hurting, of destroying. And then he lost Sarah, and with her, whatever he thought was left of his heart. 

Something seemed to slide back into that space with Ellie, but now, he can feel it filling out to the brim with her, this wild, strange, dangerous woman that he still doesn’t know, not really. He tries to tamp it down, drown it out, but the thoughts of her keep pouring in. She’s ten years younger than him, and while Joel knows time doesn’t count for much in this world, it feels like a chasm, one big enough for her to not want him at all. But then he remembers that night, that shared moment, and he has to believe he’s not being a fool for feeling this way.

His mind rolls like the tide with these wonderings, these worries as he moves through the days. And then, it’s two weeks since they’ve returned, and he gets another knock on his door on a Tuesday night.

She’s wearing the same thing he saw her in that day at the childcare center, soft, faded t-shirt, grubby jean shorts, and duct-taped sneakers, a zip-up hoodie hanging loosely over her frame. He can see that she’s got two vinyls tucked under her arm.

“You owe me a turn with your record player, Miller.” A ghost of a smile in the corners of her lips. He opens the door wider, letting her slip inside.

“Yes ma’am. Was wondering when you’d be coming for a listen.” Joel can handle patrol shifts, clickers, raiders, general danger, without much anxiety. But having her here, in his space, is making him nervous in an embarrassing way.

“Doc finally cleared me for daily activities. First day of freedom since we got back. Been thinking about this the whole time though.” He knows she means the record player, but something in him still flips over at her words.

She holds up both records for Joel to see, “I brought Mazzy Star and Elliott Smith, the ones I told you about, think we can listen to both tonight?” 

He nods, “Ellie’s out wreaking havoc with some other kids, won’t be around to give us any grief. We can listen to whatever you want.” She gives him one of those rare, cracking smiles. He thinks that’s all he really wants these days.

She lets him lead her upstairs, and he only now starts to realize he keeps the record player in his bedroom. Jesus christ, man, calm down. She lets out a sigh when she sees the player set up, tentatively walking over and thumbing through the sparse crate of records Joel has. 

“Man, feels like Christmas morning,” she murmurs, mostly to herself. The record player is set up on an old end table, Joel sits down in the armchair next to it, elbows on his knees, watching her carefully kneel in front of the player. She lays her two records down on the floor, seemingly trying to decide which to play first.

“I think I have to go with Elliott Smith first. Haven’t heard him in twenty fucking years.” She slips the record onto the table, letting the needle catch. The opening chords of “Speed Trials” kick up and she smiles until her cheeks are rounding up under her eyelashes, eyes closed.

Joel’s only half paying attention to the music, his focus more intently on the seeming ecstasy she’s in, nodding her head with the drums, letting out a sigh as each new track begins. She opens her eyes a squint, catching him staring and he looks away, trying to listen closer to the music.

She just keeps smiling, “ah man, this last track is so good.”

I'm in love with the world

Through the eyes of a girl

Who's still around the morning after…

She’s mouthing along to the lyrics, Joel feels like he’s going to combust.

I could be another fool

Or an exception to the rule

You tell me the morning after…

She looks at him, her smile slackening as she slowly stands. She shuffles over in front of him and offers out her open palm, he takes it and squeezes lightly. 

Crooked spin can't come to rest

I'm damaged bad at best

She'll decide what she wants

I'll probably be the last to know

No one says until it shows, see how it is

They want you or they don't

Say yes…

Joel stands, his and her feet shuffling until the toes of their shoes skim. She splays her other palm over his chest, fingers grazing just below his collarbone. He lets his hand furl around the curve of her neck, thumb resting on the aching roundness of her cheek.

They both jump when the needle catches the end of the record, warbling off. She huffs a laugh, eyes still caught with Joel’s.

He swears he hears his voice crack when he asks her if this is ok but he doesn’t care because she’s smiling and then she’s nodding and then she’s leaning up and in and the first kiss is soft, a remembering, a test. The second is a bit firmer, more confident. The third, she slides her palm up from his chest, to his jaw, drawing into him a bit closer. The fourth, they untangle their hands, his going to the hilt of her spine, hers draping over the tops of his shoulder blades. The fifth, he lets his palm rest heavy on her back, pressing her body fully against his. She swipes her tongue across his lips and he’s already letting her in, tasting into him. They can feel their battering heart beats where their chests press against each other, shaky and unsure of where they’re going next until Joel is cupping her hips in both his hands and gently walking her back towards the end of his bed. The backs of her knees hit the sheets and she’s stumbling back onto the bed, taking him with her as he awkwardly tries to hold himself up. She lays back and he’s hovering over her with his knee between her legs and his palm beside her temple and he laughs, really truly laughs. She brings her hand up, thumb brushing over his lips.

“What is it?” He sighs, “it’s nothing, it’s just — kinda feel like I’m back in highschool right now.” She giggles and Joel thinks it might kill him, “Joel Miller, are you blushing?”

“Mm, shut up,” and with that he’s diving back down to meet her and this kiss is different. It’s desperate, licking into each other, teeth bumping, huffed breaths, and the clicks of spit. She starts to work at the buttons of his shirt and once he catches on, he sits up for a moment, yanking the thing off over his head by the collar before settling back into her. He shivers as her palms run over his bare skin, nails grazing his back, his sides, up his chest. He dips his head into her neck, leaving nips along her throat as she gasps under his touch. She lets out a strangled whine when he brushes his lips at the hinge of her jaw. He presses back, pulling her hands with him to bring them both standing. His hands grasp at the edges of her hoodie, he sees a flicker of something in her eyes, but she still lets him shrug the jacket off her shoulders. Joel runs his fingertips down her bare arms and she shudders. He stops at the bandage around her left forearm, she looks down at the floor.

“Almost all healed now. You still gonna like me with another scar added to the list?” He frowns at that, dipping his head to meet her gaze, swooping in for a swift, hard peck. “Don’t even say shit like that,” he murmurs, bringing his attention back to the task at hand, fingers ghosting along the hem of her shirt. He doesn’t miss her flinch this time.

“I just – well, you’ve seen my back. Kinda a mood killer,” she laughs lamely at this, swallowing hard around an ache in her throat. 

“Hey, no. I — I want you, however you are, however you let me.” Joel feels like his mouth is full of cotton and he speaks before he can even think, “you’re – you’re wild, you know that? Make me feel like my head is gonna explode everytime I look at you.” She lets a small smile spread at that, still gazing down at her shoes. He brings his palm to her jaw, coaxing her face up towards him. 

“Don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to, but you gotta know I want all of you, if you’ll let me have it.” She nods slightly, eyes a bit teary as she catches Joel’s gaze. What she says comes out as a hoarse whisper, “Think I need some time. I know you’ve seen them. I’m just not ready, but I want to be. That ok?” Joel takes hold of her hand, squeezing. She squeezes back.

“It’s ok, darlin. Give you all the time I got.”

[smolwritingchick]

Ah ok! Update and Three Smol Previews for Bangtan Gal :)

Okay, good news, I am hoping to post the wrestling chapters tomorrow or Tuesday at the latest. It's almost done. Gonna let that be for a bit after I post and continue focusing on Bangtan Gal. A few chapters are boring imo but the later chapters have more drama.

Also, good news with Bangtan Gal, the second chapter I plan to post, MAMA Awards 2016 is done. I just need to reread and edit.

It's 18,000+ words. I...went overboard. I am so sorry. I don't know how to stop. I guess pace yourself?? I had a lot of ideas and it kept flowing. It's MAMA Award heavy and I was writing about people's reactions.

I have to split the MAMA Awards chapter into Part 1 (A big moment happens) and Part 2 (Jennie's response to Hyuna) because I can't fit all my words in one Tumblr post. (It's THAT bad lmfao this never happened to me before. I have a problem)

So I will link both parts of that chapter in the author's note and masterlist when it's uploaded. You'll also see the links at the end of the chapter to continue reading or to go back to read part 1 of that chapter.

All I need to do is work on is the chapter before. Which is The 3rd Muster chapter. It shouldn't take too long. Once that's done and edited, expect those two and a half chapters to be released together. Thanks for your patience! I hope the writing isn't too crazy with what I have planned.

I truly liked the ideas I came up with :)

Here's another smol preview for the MAMA Award chapter. Three Smol Scenes.

------

The day of the MAMA Awards was finally here. The day Jennie anticipated the most. She had a good feeling about this show and was excited to show off her hard work with what she had planned. The morning of the show, she decided to tweet one simple word along with an eyebrow raising hashtag.

'Bet. #GonBeAnInteresting24Hours #Jen' 

Jennie had been a trending topic on Naver and various K-Pop news outlets, which caused people to anticipate the MAMA Awards even more to see what might happen and if she may respond to Hyuna. Her silence on the matter had been a hot topic and now with her tweet going viral, fans stirred in a frenzy.

-------

With the show getting ready for the next segment, Jennie suddenly received a few packs of smarties from Jungkook.

"How'd you know I was about to ask?" she happily accepted them with surprise in her voice.

"I brought some with me just in case. I was paying attention to your facial expression. When you're about to ask for smarties or say that you wish you had them, you make this cute face. It's like you're pouting,"

"What? I was not pouting..." She turned away, feeling her face warm as he giggled.

"You just did it again,"

"Stop looking at me," she playfully pushed him away, making him laugh harder.

------

Suddenly, Hyuna had changed some of her lyrics, not looking Jennie's way as she danced.

Not a high and mighty girl scout in the club behind some fake bulletproof glass. How boring.

Some idols widened their eyes while others glanced over to where Jennie sat.

Yet another diss? This was getting out of control.

Bam Bam cringed and glanced at Jennie with worry, hoping she'd be all right. Hayoon frowned at the diss and shook her head slightly.

However, Jennie only smirked as she continued to watch, knowing that all eyes were on her to see how she'd react. Bangtan glanced at her and as she met their eyes, she gave them a nod. They nodded back and remained calm as they continued to watch the performance.

Suddenly a switch flipped in Jennie's demeanor as she rolled her neck and stared at Hyuna.

'This bitch got me fucked up...' she thought as she kept her cool.

Fans tweet:

'Not again!! Enough already!'

'Is she trying to provoke Jennie?'

'Don't be mad if Jennie catches her in an alley to stomp that ass!'

'The neck roll! I repeat! The neck roll! Jennie just did the neck roll! That is BAD! She got something planned! Get ready!'

'I don't like how she's acting. This is bullying at this point. Hyuna needs to chill,'

'Jen better than me because I would have ran on stage and popped her shit,'

'From the looks of it, Jennie is so bitter and jealous,'

'That smirk means business. I'm not ready,'

'I wish people would stop judging Jennie,'

'Jennie looks like she's plotting,'

'Why does she look so hot when she's upset?'

'Bangtan knows something that we don't because they don't look bothered at all,'

'Bangtan isn't even phased?! What is Jennie planning tonight?'

[comicaurora]

Hey, Red, I wanted to ask your insight on one thing about comic writing yet again

How do you write "serialized" media in comparison to traditional writing? Like, people often say that "your first draft will be bad, so you have to get back to it and revise at some point", but, like, for media released periodically, like webcomics, it's much harder to do, unless you write down the entire story beforehand in a lot of detail, and revise *that* instead, and only start drawing after like third or fourth edition of the script.

But, like, I assume that, beyond basic outline, some cool scenes in the middle, and the ending, there is only so much planning you can viably do. How do you handle it? Do you sometimes have to draw a page without knowing yet what will happen five pages later? How do you balance between leaving yourself the freedom to alter things (and also free time not spent on writing a novel before transforming it into a comic) and having a good written story, with themes and foreshadowing and stuff?

It's certainly different than traditional writing, because progress becomes a rolling, iterative thing rather than full draft passes.

What I have is a many-pronged approach that gets more detailed the farther in it goes:

The toolbox. This is a big pile of characters, subplot concepts and plothooks I add to whenever I think of something new and fun. When I'm building out a new arc from scratch, this is what I draw on.

The roadmap. This is a rough plan for the overall shape of the story - I know where the characters start and where they end, and I have a rough idea of waypoints they'll hit along the way. I have one of these for the story as a whole, with each "waypoint" basically being a rough-draft concept for the premise of a single arc. To give an idea of the level of specificity, the "waypoint" for this first arc was literally just "getting the gang together." It was the one thing I needed to have happen. On a smaller scale, individual sub-arcs have more detailed roadmaps of their own, but they mostly fit the format of "characters arrive in location A -> characters fight bossfight B" with the rest fleshed out in between.

The checklist. This is the specific list of "things I need to happen in this specific substory," aka the waypoints on the smaller-scale roadmaps. It gets fleshed out as the actual story gets closer to it and specific character arcs take turns I might not have been able to anticipate. This is close to a timeline, but it's more flexible, as at this stage it's okay to shuffle around the order of things - in fact I almost never make solid linear timelines of events, because sometimes I split the party and things happen at their own pace. In these cases I just set waypoints for when different sub-timelines will intersect - at what point in the conversation will the large flashy thing interrupt, at what stage in the fight will the cavalry arrive, etc. I just need to be sure to hit all the important parts. I'll know a story is ready to turn into a storyboard once I have every important detail nailed down - what specific sticking points will come up in the character conflict, what hidden threat is going to be in the environment they enter so I can set it up correctly, what conclusion will a character come to and how will they want to proceed, etc.

The solid storyboard. This is what I turn into finalized pages, and I work several chapters ahead to make sure I have the rhythm of the story. Once it's down on paper it generally doesn't change much, though specifics of dialogue can be reworked right up to the export. This is linear progress, and it usually happens in very discrete bursts. I don't storyboard something until I know exactly what is happening in this specific scene, where they're going, where it'll end and what it's setting up for later. Sometimes I get stuck on a single panel because I'm not sure which choice a character will make, and then when I come back to it I set down that panel and like five more pages flow out afterwards. Sometimes I'll just reread all my storyboards up to the current endpoint, take a nap, then wake up knowing exactly what to put on the next panel. Sometimes I'll do a reread and tweak the dialogue at several points because the first draft I wrote doesn't sound good to me anymore. This is where I do the bulk of the work that traditional media would do in the second draft.

In order to avoid rewrites - because in serialized media, rewrites are very bad - I frontload as much of that work as I can. I don't start the storyboard until I know all the relevant details of the scene's setup, so I don't end up retconning anything important. If there's a specific hidden enemy in the environment, I want to foreshadow it accurately, so before I draw the area it's in I want to know exactly what it looks like and where it could be hiding. If they're in a facility designed for a specific thing, I want to know exactly what that thing is so the clues and details line up. If I've reached the start of an argument, I want to know what is going to end it before I draw the first panel.

I don't need to know every detail of exactly everything that's going to happen, because the characters work better when I let them make their own choices on a panel-to-panel basis, but I need to know every detail of what they're reacting to and interacting with. In a way it's a lot like running a TTRPG. So there are many times where I draw a page and don't know what's going to happen five pages later - in fact I'd say that's the vast majority of my experience - but I always have a narrowed-down space of things I know will need to happen in the next sixty pages.