#everything's fine but I'm still kinda worn out

[celiaelise]

anyway, reminder to myself and anyone else who may need it, that just because "I can handle it" doesn't mean it doesn't take a toll. Just because you know what to do and aren't in crisis doesn't mean that it doesn't cause additional stress and cost energy. Please try to take care of yourself accordingly.

[sysig]

I’ll be fine, I just have to get it all out of my system (Patreon)

[omi-boshi]

period cramps and a little bit of pining

your best friend omi comes over to take care of you during your period

tags: no plot just gratuitous fluff and yearning word count: 2.2k

through the haziness that comes from just waking up, you hear the muffled sound of knocking, followed by the click of the door unlocking. you poke your head out from under the covers, curious. the sound of footsteps and rustling just outside your bedroom door fill the space and truthfully, you should be more worried that a stranger has seemingly broken into your apartment. however, the lack of angry growling from your sweet great pyrenees and screams of bloody murder from the stranger soothe the concern that tries its damnest to rise above your grogginess. you stay quiet, curled up on your side, head still peeking out. the continuing muffled sounds almost lulling you to sleep, your eyes falling close. that's how kiyoomi finds you.

he pushes the bedroom door open. quietly, he pads over to the bed and crouches just beside where he can see your face. the concerned furrow between his brows softens slightly as he takes in your sleepy form. he debates waking you up, not wanting to disturb the sleep you're finally getting after a night dealing with cramps of the worst kind. he wishes nothing more than to indulge you as he always does but as your closest friend, he knows you have yet to get up and eat. and that takes priority. cautiously, he runs his fingers through your hair and down your cheek which you turn into, seeking the warmth radiating from his skin. the subconscious action disarms kiyoomi. he has to fight through the thumping in his heart to call your name until you finally start waking up. he watches as you rouse from your sleep, grumbling through the whole motion. it tugs a small smile up his lips. your eyes flutter open and the seconds that follow are punctuated by the stillness of the air as you stare up at him, slowly processing his presence. your eyes travel up his figure. the mask dangling from his right ear. the hoodie he wears — the one you usually steal from him. the fuzzy socks you got him for Christmas. the worn sweatpants you've told him many times to replace and yet he never does because it looks fine, you remember him arguing at some point. the memory of it makes you smile. your gaze trails to the soft curve of his lips, the moles partially covered by his damp messy hair — he must have showered before he came from practice — before finally landing on his eyes that quietly watch you. "hi," you finally whisper in what feels like eons. voice scratchy from disuse. "hey, sleepy head," he says just as softly, mirth coloring his tone. "what are you doing here?" "you texted me last night. did you forget?" you hum in confusion, sitting up slowly and pulling your arm from under the covers to look for your phone.

to omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:43 PM

omiii com e over tmrw :((( - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM

You okay? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM

I have practice in the morning but I can come over after. Is that alright?

- to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM

that work s yes!!! and im okya, just kinda in pain and loopy from the meds and sticky ;-; - to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM

everything hurts n i cant sleep on my back but it's ok see u tmrw! - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM

It's that time, huh? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM

Get some rest. I'll be there as soon as I can.

"oh," you mumble, as you scroll through your messages. "i thought I was dreaming." you put your phone down to look kiyoomi in the eyes, a tilt to your head. "i'm glad you actually came though." kiyoomi breathes in deeply, heart thumping so loud — at this point he's sure you can hear it. but of course, you are none the wiser as you continue peering down at him, sleepy smile on your face.

"of course, i would." he returns the smile. “anyway, i didn’t know what you wanted since you didn’t reply to me all morning.” he pulls out a paper bag that was sitting behind him. “so, i just got a bit of everything.” in your curiosity, you sit up straighter to look at the bag kiyoomi has brought. he starts pulling out its contents and showing them off to you with a dorky grin that grows the more items he shows you. there were donuts, churros, chocolates, cookies, mochi, bread of all variations, and a singular bottle of the tea drink you've been raving to him about the past month. "kiyoomi!" you yell, doubling over in laughter. "i can't eat all of this!" "well, good thing there's two of us," he rolls his eyes, grin still on his face. "in my defense, i didn't know what to get." which is a lie. sort of. because everything he got were things you mentioned craving the days leading up to this week. not that you needed to know that of course. "you'd ruin your diet for me, omi?" you pout, eye glimmering in amusement. "that's so sweet! come here!" you reach out to pinch his cheeks, cooing how your omi is the sweetest and kindest person there is and that people would know that more if you stop looking so grumpy, you idiot.he feels his ears flush and he pushes you — nudges, really — to the side, grumbling something about ungrateful spoiled brats. but he can't bring himself to actually chide you for it, not when you're high in spirits right now and he knows how the littlest things could set you off. he wants you happy for as long as your period lets you which isn't long; fickle as your moods are at these times. "alright, alright." he chuckles. "go freshen up and let's get some real food in you first before we eat the sweets," he stands up from his kneeling position on the floor, hand on your arm to pull you up, grunting as he does so. you groan as if remembering why he was here in the first place. you flop helplessly on the bed, boneless, unwilling to leave the inviting warmth of the blankets. "nooo," you whine, purposely obnoxious just to irk him enough to let you go. "i know what you're doing." he tugs again. "it's not gonna work." it's a losing battle, one that you fought valiantly 'til the end. your whining doesn't work and only ends with you thrown over his shoulder. you yelp, thumping his back with your fists in protest as he makes his way through the living room where your dog sees you both and follows you to the bathroom.

kiyoomi gently puts you down, righting your crumpled shirt. he chuckles at the look you send him. to him, you look about as threatening as a baby chick but he rightfully stays quiet. not taking any chances with your knees so close to his crotch. "there are some pads in the cabinet that i bought," he pauses to fix your hair that got messy from being upside down. "it's the kind you always have." you grumble out a thanks, still a bit peeved from being carried out of bed. kiyoomi was right, of course — you do need to freshen up — but you can still give him trouble for it. you're bleeding out and you feel all weird, sue you, right? "while you're here, i'll go heat up the food i got you — it's korean, by the way — and feed snowball too then we can do whatever you want after. sound good?" kiyoomi tilts his head towards you to see your face.

you don't answer immediately, still stubbornly holding on to the frustration of being forcefully pulled out of bed. but just like most things are with kiyoomi, it's a losing battle. again.

it doesn't take you long before you drop the pretenses and meet his gaze. what you see makes the fight in you leave all in one go. his gaze is warm with mirth and... something else. you don't know what it is but it makes you feel shy being at the receiving end of it. you are suddenly conscious of how sloppy you must look right now even though you know kiyoomi would not mind. in your rising embarrassment, you usher kiyoomi out of the bathroom, eyes not meeting his. snowball, who's just so happy to be there, follows kiyoomi out the door. a muffled boof! sounding through the door once you get it shut. you get your wits together and freshen up, taking extra time to deal with the flush on your cheeks that just won't disappear. kiyoomi is taking out the last of the food from the microwave as you come out of the bathroom, livelier now that you've washed your face. he greets you with a smile and calls you to the dining table. lunch is far calmer, a nice change of pace after the hectic ordeal of getting you out of bed. the strange shyness from earlier is forgotten temporarily as you both talk about nothing and everything; how volleyball practice went, how his courses are going, about the new show you wanted to watch with him. once you start feeling the cramps come up again, kiyoomi catches the change in your expression and decides it's time to go back to bed. he hands you the pill you take to treat the cramps and a glass of water. you give him a grateful smile and he ruffles your hair in return.

"go back to bed. i'll be there in a sec," he says, no room for argument. you feel a bit guilty not helping with the cleanup and you tell him as much. he only snorts and tells you it's fine and that it's what i'm here for.

it doesn't do much to abate your guilt but with the cramps only getting worse, there's not much of a choice to be made.

when kiyoomi comes back, he sees you curled up under the covers, eyes shut in pain. he grabs the rechargeable heating pad from across the room and nudges your hand with it. it's only then that you open your eyes.

"hi," you mutter, attempting to smile. "the medicine hasn't kicked in yet." you grab the offered heating pad. "hey, guess we're not watching that show then?" kiyoomi murmurs, knowing full well that you would want to sleep the ache away. you give him an apologetic smile which he only waves off. "i really wanted to watch it too," you mourn. "it's fine. we can watch it another time." he smiles kindly. the silence that follows is somewhat cautious, neither one sure where to go from here. usually, you would have invited kiyoomi into bed by now and he would groan his protest before reluctantly joining you, all the while you would be teasing him about it. but the shyness from before overtakes you and kiyoomi is unusually hesitant as well, eyes darting and feet shuffling in place.

he is the first to break the silence. "i'll head to the living room so you can sleep, okay?" he begins turning away from you. at his words, you hastily sit up. "omi," you call out. he looks to you, head tilted to let you know he's listening. you can barely hold eye contact as the next words stumble through your lips. "um, the-the heating pad falls off when i sleep on my side and, and you know how i can't sleep on my back because the bleeding would leak," you look away from his gaze. "do you... do you mind helping me?"

kiyoomi turns around, regarding you curiously. "and what do you want me to do?" knowing that words will fail you, you silently flip the covers and pat the space beside you. kiyoomi exhales and cautiously takes his spot on the bed, as if this is the first time he's done this. it makes you snort; your shyness and his hesitance, it's ridiculous. and yet you're unable to soothe your increasing heartbeat.

"and then?" kiyoomi asks, quietly.

shaking off the anxiety that's starting to take hold of you, you nudge his shoulder, urging him to lie down beside you. you turn your back towards him, reaching for his hand and slowly guiding it down to lay flat on the heating pad pressing to your lower abdomen. you swear you hear the sharp intake of breath over your shoulder; whether from the temperature of the heating pad or the action itself, you don't know.

kiyoomi is quick on the uptake and lays his palm fully on the pad. it takes you by surprise when he pulls you towards his chest that you can't help the little gasp you let out. "like this?" he asks, almost teasingly. the hesitance from before melting away from his tone. unfortunately for you, it does menacing things to your heart.

with your heart seizing in your chest, you hum your affirmative and relax in his hold. kiyoomi pulls up the covers on both of you and adjusts so that your head rests on his other arm. with the soft thump-thump of his heartbeat combined with the warmth from the heating pad and his body, you are slowly lulled to sleep. "we should talk about this, you know?" you hear just as you are on the brink of sleep and you only hum in response. you hear him chuckle, or rather feel the vibrations of it. And then lastly, a kiss to your hair. "another time then."

what comes after will be dealt with another time. for now, you will enjoy each other's warmth.

i wrote this on a whim because im currently bleeding out and everything hurts so bad and i wish i had an omi to take care of me ;;;;; I've got a more planned out fic that i can't wait to get out there i swear ;;;; pls take this crappy peace offering for now

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-eight of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“I'll show you how it works,” Tim says, smiling a little helplessly at him for no good reason. Kon's just–pretty. And cute. And wearing slightly smudged eyeliner, like he went out of his way to learn how to apply it just for this and didn't quite get enough practice with it during said learning process, which might be a little much to assume but sure is a thought either way. “There'll be placards and stuff that explain how it all goes too. If you don't like it we can leave, obviously, we'll just go to dinner early.” 

“You wanna do dinner too?” Kon asks. 

“My intentions tonight are for this exhibit, dinner, and then another surprise destination,” Tim says. “Do you like Japanese food, because I got us a reservation at a Japanese place I know, but if that's not your thing, there's always other options.”

Tim definitely did not make three back-up reservations in a Bat-panic, because that would be an insane person thing to do and he's operating with fully rational behavior for fully rational reasons here. Obviously. Of course-ly. 

Just like, yeah. There may or may not be back-up reservations. 

Contingency plans are vital, okay? 

“I like Japanese food,” Kon says. “Well–I like sushi and musubi and poke bowls and that kinda thing, at least. So like . . . same diff, right?” 

“Right,” Tim assumes, with still no idea what either musubi or poke bowls are. He'll google it. It'll be fine. If nothing else, Kon can get sushi. He'll buy him one of those huge fancy boats of it if he's gotta. 

. . . actually that's not a bad idea, Kon could probably use the calories. Hm. 

“You planned all that stuff, though?” Kon asks, peering around the gallery as they finally step out into it and frowning in confusion. 

“I promised you I'd take you someplace nice,” Tim says with an easy shrug. “So I found some nice places to take you. That's all.”  

“You only promised me one nice place,” Kon says with a little laugh, shaking his head. “Now it's three?” 

“I'm intending to take you to a lot of nice places, Kon,” Tim says, and feels his chest clench up a little when he sees the way Kon's expression softens at the sound of his name. He needs to be using it more, he thinks to himself. Like–way more. “Or just wherever you wanna go.” 

“Sure,” Kon says, ducking his head, then glances around the gallery again as his frown reasserts itself. “What's everybody doing? They're like–messing with everything.” 

“It's a sensory exhibit,” Tim repeats in clarification. “You're supposed to interact with the exhibits. Touch or listen to or manipulate them. Things like that.” 

Kon . . . blinks, slowly. Then he glances sidelong at Tim, biting his lip. 

He doesn't ask, but the question in his eyes is obvious enough, Tim thinks. 

“It's tactile telekinesis, isn't it?” he says. “So I thought you might be interested in something tactile.” 

“You . . . did?” Kon says, glancing back towards the rest of the room. 

“It at least seemed like a valid theory,” Tim says. Kon had kept touching the cashmere on and off for as long as he’d worn it, and petted the goat, and had apparently been clocking the whole damn mall most of the time they’d been there, and he’d just thought–well–

Kon really does talk about his TTK so much, whether it’s relevant or not. Doing something that might be deliberately relevant to it had just seemed, well . . . natural. 

If nothing else, it might help keep Kon interested in him a little longer. Tim still isn’t sure how long to expect Kon to stay interested, depending, so until he knows one way or the other, he might as well frontload his success here. Or at least try to, anyway. 

Look, he’s going to do his best, alright? His best is just the best he can do. 

“You know, if you wanted me to touch something, you could’ve just volunteered,” Kon jokes, but the way he says it doesn’t actually make Tim want to laugh. It’s actually all he can do not to frown, the way he says it. Just . . . something about it’s a little off, maybe.

“I told you I’d take you on a date,” he says. “Just telling you to feel me up doesn’t seem like putting in much effort there. Definitely not nice levels of effort.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, ducking his head as he glances away again. He’s still holding his hand. Tim wonders what kind of dates Kon’s even been on before–and if he’s ever been the one getting taken on one, too. Especially since as far as he knows Kon’s only dated girls, and there were probably some assumptions set in place there. Like–it seems likely that there would’ve been, at least. Even if just self-imposed ones. 

“Want to try?” Tim offers. “Like I said, if you don’t like it we’ll just go to dinner early.” 

“Um, sure,” Kon says. “We can try it. Um . . .” 

“This way,” Tim says, and leads him towards one of the closer stations in the exhibit. Kon looks a little unsure where to start, so he figures it’ll help if he gives him a little push. Though it’s weird to think of Kon as needing any kind of a push, except maybe a push to actually stay still and listen for ten seconds. Or like . . . anything remotely along those lines. 

The station is a low, hip-height sandbox full of . . . well, sand, unsurprisingly. There's stones and rakes and general Zen garden-style paraphernalia laid out inside it, and patterns and colors already marked and dyed into the sand to be mixed-up and deconstructed at will, though no one seems to have gotten too far into that yet. Kon tilts his head as he looks down at the display, his eyes briefly unfocusing. 

“You're just supposed to play around with it,” Tim says, wondering what that unfocused look on his face is about. “Rearrange the patterns or make new ones, I guess.” 

“Huh,” Kon says. “Okay. Like just however?” 

“I mean, what, are they gonna yell at us for doing it wrong?” Tim asks with a shrug. Kon smirks at him. 

“I could come up with something they'd yell at us for,” he says with a teasing leer. 

Tim suffers. 

“Let's wait a couple stations before we get ourselves kicked out,” he manages, swallowing awkwardly. Kon grins at him, then leans over the sandbox and presses both hands flat against the sand inside and immediately starts rearranging everything with his TTK. Tim is about to reflexively protest him not even pretending to check for any onlookers before realizing that there is literally no possible way that anyone could look at them right now without Kon being able to feel them turning their way, and also the two security cameras that were previously in their range are both cocked askew now.

Okay, so he could be worse at passing for civilian, Tim figures, and just leans over and lets himself admire the wave-like ripples spreading across the sandbox as Kon carefully constructs a swirling rainbow of an ocean with all of the brighter colors and a dark beach stretched out alongside it, accented with little rocks scattered around like shells and driftwood. The wave patterns look surprisingly accurate, but then again, he probably did get a great aerial view of the ocean on the regular back in Hawaii, didn't he. 

Tim takes his phone out and sneaks a quick pic or two of both Kon and the box on old reflex, and Kon laughs at him. 

“You like, babe?” he asks with a teasing smirk. 

“Most things about you, yes,” Tim replies frankly, because he's not Robin right now so he can do that, and Kon laughs again even as he blushes and straightens back up, the sand all brushing itself off his hands. 

“Only most?” he asks. “Guess I gotta step up my game, then.” 

“Find another excuse to wear that crop top and you'll be fine,” Tim advises, and Kon laughs so bright for that it's almost flustering. 

Well, no, it's definitely flustering. Actually it's very, very flustering. 

Adorable bastard. Absolute fucker. Tim should throw him off a bridge, but he'd just fly back up anyway, the asshole. 

Tim wants to kiss him so bad right now. 

Kon's eyes half-unfocus again, and then the sand and rocks and tools all . . . shift. Tim blinks, a little surprised, and then realizes–oh. He's sorting it all back. Like . . . very accurately back, in fact. The colors and patterns are all returning to the exact same designs as they were in when they first stepped over here. Which is probably for the best because again, they’re currently playing civilian, but–

“Holy shit,” Tim says as the patterns all settle back in and his eyebrows shoot up, more than a little incredulous. Okay, well–he's slightly less sure that Kon doesn't have Superman's eidetic memory now. Also, considering how mixed-around all the colors were, he doesn't even know how he did that so effectively. “How the hell did you do that?” 

“Wasn't hard,” Kon replies casually, but he looks smug about it, the–again–adorable bastard. Fucker. “Just undid what everybody already did, yeah?” 

Tim looks at the sand and belatedly notices that yes, in fact, Kon also reverted everything else that'd been done to it back to what was clearly the original design too. He cannot even fathom how Kon could tell how to “undo” any of that. Like–the pattern-recognition, fine, he could've done that himself–Bart could've, if he'd been interested enough to bother–but tracking back a design after undoing the whole thing to begin with and keeping the different colors of sand all correctly separated? Seriously? 

“Jesus,” he says. “That's incredible.” 

“No big,” Kon says, but looks very pleased about the compliment all the same. Tim thinks of about three thousand tactical applications for this skill alone and really wants to know why Kon doesn't brag about this part of TTK more. Or like, ever. It's always punching things and ripping up the street and tearing doors off their hinges and things like that, when he can do things like map an entire building blind and control sand down to the fucking individual grains? 

Tim might need to have a talk with all of their teammates about their actual abilities, actually, seeing all this. Like, some assessment tests might need to happen. Questionnaires. Something. The informal approach was clearly not thorough enough. If nothing else, he's definitely following up with Kon. 

“I honestly did not realize how good you'd be at that,” Tim says, and then has to watch in disbelief as Kon smirks smugly at him while simultaneously–without even looking–builds a little sand castle without even bothering to put his hands in the sand this time. Which he doesn't have to, obviously, because the sand is in the sandbox and it's part of the table which is on the floor he's standing on and Tim objectively understands how TTK works, but that really seems like it'd be much harder to pull off. Just–damn. Damn. 

. . . technically, if Kon can control things as small as a grain of sand, how small can he go? Could he–theoretically, at least–manipulate dust? Air molecules? 

Atoms? 

Because if he could, if things like that counted . . . well, the transitive properties of TTK would be a lot less of a limitation outside of maybe the vacuum of space, wouldn't they. There's always air, after all. And if Kon could manipulate anything on the atomic level . . . 

Jesus. There's a thought. 

As soon as Tim's done being desperately, overwhelmingly turned on and also reformatting several of his supervillainy-connected plans, he's gonna have to start drafting that superpower skills and applications thereof questionnaire. Like. Immediately once he's done, actually. 

Just–again, just Jesus. 

“I mean, it's just a party trick, but it's a fun one, right?” Kon says with another laugh. 

Tim is going to lose his actual fucking mind. 

“You call that a party trick?” he says in disbelief. There is no possible way that any lock could be secure against that. No one could ever hide behind cover. No one could even carry a concealed weapon without him knowing, for fuck's sake! 

. . . Tim is very glad he's been leaving the birdarangs home for his not-dates and current-date with Kon. Very, very glad. 

Jesus, that would've been fun to explain to Bruce. Well I didn't TELL him I was Robin, but I DID encourage him to tactile-telekinetically feel me up in a changing room while I was strapped with Bat-gear, sooooo . . . I mean, you never told me I couldn't do THAT. 

That's exactly how he would've explained it, obviously, but still. Bruce would not have taken it well. 

What a fucking way to come out to Batman, too.

[whumpbug]

this little fic is heavily heavily inspired by this post from @whump-kia because i just couldnt get the idea out of my silly brain so i brain vomited onto my notes app

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kinda sorta wilderness/sci-fi/apocolypse setting.. it honestly could go all ways but the important factors are 1) they are in a team 2) there are enemies they are on the run from and 3) there isnt really magic healing or anything available

i wrote it as medic kinda being the most competent one in general while leader and teammate are frazzled as hell at the situation and could be read as newer to the team but that isn't necessarily my intention!

whumpee: Medic

caretaker(s): Leader and Teammate

[all characters gender neutral]

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The room fell silent. All eyes were suddenly trained on Medic who threw open the door and staggered in.

With a dagger wedged in their side.

The team had been on the run from enemies for the better part of a week now. Even though they weren't completely in the clear, the team was completely worn out. They all needed a good rest.

They were setting up camp at one of their many bases, and Medic offered to scout the area alone. Leader honestly didn’t think it was a good idea, but they were too preoccupied to think to argue it further.

Now, they sincerely wished they had.

“Medic.. oh god, oh god” whispered Teammate.

“Ambush,” They explained. “It’s.. it’s okay, I took care of it..” Medic replied cooly, but the color was quickly draining from their face. Teammate frowned and continued questioning them, but Leader heard none of it.

Leader took a shaky breath, but their feet were planted. They couldn’t move. They were frozen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, Medic was untouchable. Medic was steadfast and reliable, always there when the team needed them.

Medic wasn’t supposed to go out like this. Medic wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

Leader’s breathing hitched again. Their head was reeling. What were they going to do?! No one on the team was qualified to fix this other than the person dripping blood all over the floor, yet it was still Leader’s job to do something. It was too much, it was too—

“Leader.”

Medic’s voice cut through the room like a knife through butter.

“I need you to listen to me. Carefully. Can you do that?”

Leader swallowed the lump in their throat. They nodded.

Medic took another step forward, only for their foot to catch on the ground, sending them stumbling forward. Teammate caught them by the upper arm and unceremoniously lowered them to the ground.

“Alright,” Medic began. Their face was scrunched up in pain. “Leader. I’m going to walk you through how to fix this, okay? I'm going to be fine.”

“Right. Right, I can help you.. just- just tell me what to do.” Leader said, forcing their voice to remain steady.

“Do you see that fire poker over there? I’m going to need you to grab it and stick the end of it into the fire. We want it to get really hot, okay?” Medic explained methodically.

If it weren’t for the blade sticking out of Medic’s middle, you’d think there was nothing even wrong with them. They seemed like everything was under control. They really seemed fine.

But not to their team.

No, their team didn’t miss Medic’s pallor, the way their eyebrows were pinched together, the way the sweat was beading on their brow. Their team didn’t miss the way their hands were trembling, the way their gaze was glassy, and the way they were slumped against the wall, seemingly sapped of their strength.

Medic was fighting to hold on, but it was a losing battle. They really didn’t have much time before they passed out from blood loss, or worse.

Leader’s resolve came back to them all at once. They nodded sharply and did as they were told, sticking the poker into the fire and leaving it on the hearth. While the team waited anxiously for the poker to heat up, Leader took the opportunity to adjust Medic into a more comfortable position against the wall. This earned a strangled grunt from Medic.

“Okay, Leader.. this.. this is important. Once that poker gets red-hot, you’re.. you’re going to have to pull out the blade from my wound and cauterize it.. immediately.” They choked out, shifting to give Leader a better view of their abdomen.

Leader’s face blanched.

“Cauterize?? Why not sutures? Surely that’s less painful,” Leader protested, only to be shushed by Medic raising their hand.

“I don’t have.. I can’t stay awake to walk you through that.. cau.. cauterization is.. quicker..”

Leader could tell Medic was reaching their limit. The wound, despite being partially plugged by the dagger, had been steadily dripping blood for a while now. Leader could tell by the way Medic’s voice was faltering and the way their shoulders were drooping that they were utterly spent. They had to hurry up.

Leader glanced at the fire poker, and upon seeing it burning hot, they grabbed a towel and picked it up.

“Alright. What’s next.”

Medic steeled their nerves and spoke.

“You and Teamate will have to work together. Leader, you’ll.. you’ll need to pull out the dagger and immediately press the poker along th.. the wound.. As soon as you pull it out, it’s going to start bleeding even faster.. you need to seal it immediately, just until the bleeding stops..”

Leader nods, though they hate this with every fiber of their being. They’ve never had to have had a wound cauterized before, thanks to Medic’s dilligency. Still, they know the procedure is agonizing and not one they are thrilled to perform on Medic.

Medic gaze flits to Teammate.

“You.. you have a very important job.. I need.. I’m gonna need you to hold me down. As soon as that metal hits my skin, I’m going to scream. I mean really scream. I’m also going to jerk away. I need you to hold me down, no.. no matter what happens, even if I pass out, so Leader doesn’t end up making the wound worse. Can you do that?”

Teammate frowns, but gives a quick nod. Teammate was always more timid, but now, in this moment, their jaw was set and there was a determined glint in their eyes. By God, they were going to help Medic.

Leader got up and sat on Medic’s legs to restrain them, and held the fire poker at their side. Using their free hand they gently grasped the handle of the blade sticking out of Medic, careful not to jostle it in the wound. Still, Medic inhaled sharply.

Teammate got behind Medic looping their arms behind theirs and holding them tight.

“Alright.. just.. just give me a count down..” Medic said, their voice low.

Leader nodded.

“3.”

Medic sucked in a breath.

“2.”

Teammate tightened their grip.

“1.”

Everything that happened after that countdown couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds, but to Medic, it felt like 10 years.

As soon as the dagger was removed, Leader pressed the hot metal into the wound. The guttural scream that tore from Medic’s throat was nausea-inducing.

Immediately, every muscle in their body seized up as they violently thrashed against the white-hot pain. Medic’s sobs rang out through the entire facility. Everyone in the vicinity flinched at the sound.

Their Medic, their savior, was now reduced to gut-wrenching cries.

Leader adjusted themself to sit on Medic’s thighs, effectively immobilizing them.

Teammate had to yank Medic’s arms down, using all their strength to keep them still.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..” Teammate whispered softly, tears blurring their vision.

Right as Leader was about to finish sealing the wound, Medic let out a gurgling gasp as their eyes rolled back into their head and they went limp.

“Medic? Hey, Medic?” Teammate mewled, lightly tapping their cheek.

Both Leader and Teammate finally loosened their grip on them and lowered Medic to the ground with as much care as they could muster.

“Hey, c’mon Medic.. wake up for us, yeah?” Leader coaxed, brushing a strand of hair from Medic’s eyes.

Medic’s eyelids finally fluttered open, but they looked utterly exhausted. Their face was streaked with sweat and there were tears tracks lining their pale cheeks. Still, they gave a weak smile.

“You.. you guys did great..” They managed, but not before their eyes slipped close yet again.

Both Leader and Teammate exchanged a laugh at how absurd it was that Medic was praising them for doing well. Still, the worst of it was over and everyone could breathe again. They knew they should get Medic up and into medbay, but they silently agreed to let Medic rest for a few moments longer.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath au: Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual. 

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…” 

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before. 

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, “Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the “Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…” 

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy. 

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question. 

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying. 

“What’s going on? 

Not going to believe what? 

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor. 

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?” 

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?” 

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes. 

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation. 

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat. 

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

[kinardsevan]

wip thursday

nobody tagged me. i'm just sharing from the next chapter of Never Til Now (mostly bc this idea came to me and I kinda need it to be canon).

-

“Hey,” Maddie murmurs, grabbing Evan’s elbow. “I have something else for you.” He furrows his brow at her, confused. Ellie stirs in the sling and he glances down, pulling the fabric back slightly, but she’s still fast asleep. He glances back up at Maddie, and then toward the bag in her hand. 

“Maddie, really, you’ve done more than enough,” he insists, trying to lift his hands to stop her. 

“I didn’t buy this,” she tells him, grabbing his hands and pushing them down. “Now come with me.” 

Evan sighs, but lets her pull him through the kitchen to the hallway and into the nursery. Once they’re in the room, she places the gift bag on the changing table and then gestures toward it. Evan stares at her for a moment with a raised eyebrow and slight smirk before he reaches into the bag and pulls out the tissue paper on top. After he sets it aside, he reaches back into the bag and furrows his brow further as he comes into contact with soft fabric. He grasps it and pulls it out. 

It’s old, clearly worn and used, not as bright a blue as it once was. He turns the fabric over in his hands and gulps as his gaze catches on the detailing. Along the corner of it, his name is embroidered. 

He looks up at her with his brow tightly furrowed, his eyes glassy. “H-how?” 

Maddie smiles up at him, although there are tears in her eyes as well. “I mean you know how it was. I think you were three when you stopped being attached to this one, and I kind-of just never let it go. When I left for Boston, I took it with me, I guess as my own security blanket. When I missed you, I’d take it out and smell it.” She laughs a little, wiping at the tears as they fall.

“Mom didn’t tell you to throw it away,” he mutters in a question. He’s still no fool when it comes to the way that his parents have treated his upbringing. 

Maddie looks up at him, pressing her lips together. “I never would’ve either way. Anyway, when things started getting rough, I put it in a safety deposit box so nothing could happen to it. I went back for it when I got all my documents and run money together. But selfishly, I wasn’t really planning on giving it back.”

Evan smiles at her, blinking away his own tears. Maddie reaches out for the blanket, grabbing it gently. He lets her take it. 

“I had something more added to it,” she tells him. 

Tommy pops around the corner then, looking between the two of them and then spotting the swell of Ellie inside the sling. 

“Everything okay in here,” he asks. 

“Everything’s fine,” Evan tells him. Maddie reaches a hand out toward him, grabbing his wrist. 

“Come in. You should see this too.” 

Tommy raises a curious eyebrow and steps around the doorway, into the nursery. Maddie lets go of his arm as he glances down at the blanket, clearly realizing what it is. 

Maddie unfolds the muslin carefully, passing Evan a corner, and then another to Tommy before grabbing the final two in her own hands and holding it out. They both tilt their heads, taking in the entire blanket. 

Each corner is embroidered, although Evan’s is the only one that has older thread filled in with new where it had it frayed over the years. 

Evan Phillip Thomas James Eliza River Buckley Kinard

Tommy clears his throat, his face contorted by the wave of emotion brought on by the gesture. The glances up at Maddie with an expression similar to Evan’s. 

“Maddie, this is-…” He pauses and shakes his head. Maddie squeezes his arm again and he nods, quickly reaching up to wipe at tears coming down his face. 

“I just thought- I mean, I know neither of you have any keepsakes,” she explains. “And I wanted to help with that.” 

[d-lanx]

ok so final thoughts. i was holding onto hope that the reason punk/drew was opening was to give them time to clean up before post-show interviews. and then they didn't have punk or drew in the post show. so why have punk/drew open? there's literally no good reason. im betting it was just for the rock to make a shock return. as hhh said in the post show, he does what he wants. and with how despite this, punk/drew was the most heavily advertised and most anticipated, i think it was originally supposed to main event until the rock got involved.

problem is it just completely overshadowed everything else on the card. it peaked too soon and there was no way for any other match to top it, making everything look worse by comparison. i feel like just reordering the card would have majorly fixed it. even if punk/drew were second to last, it would have done the card a favour moreso than it did by going first. and ideally it should have main evented. but as we all know, rocky can't handle being anything but the main event. sorry, but this bloodline match didn't need to main event at all. it would have been fine as second to last. they've main evented enough ppv's with this storyline and i'm sure they will for many more (*cough cough* survivor series *cough cough*), they should have switched it up for a change.

the rest of the ppv just felt kinda flat and even the crowd seemed worn out and a bit dead for the rest of the ppv after being so hype for the first match. and from the looks of the dash, anyone who would normally have a hard time staying up late for ppvs (either for work or timezones, etc) just used it as an excuse to switch off after punk/drew, and those who stayed weren't paying much attention cos they were all still talking about punk/drew. the biggest talking point should go last if you want people to pay attention to the whole show and stick around to even watch the whole show. it'd be interesting to see viewership after punk/drew, cos i imagine they'll be a drop after that match (possibly with a pick up towards the end).

i know i'll be rewatching punk/drew over and over. but tbh, i'm finding it hard to really care about anything else. honestly i'd rate the ppv 10/10 if it ended after the first match, but with the rest, and the fumble on the main event entrance, overall the show was pretty mid. punk/drew just shone too bright for anyone else to stand a chance.

just goes to show that, as much as people may say the order doesn't matter and everyone is special and gets a participation award, it does in fact matter who goes on last.

(sorry i don't normally rant like this, i just had a lot of thoughts i wanted to get down. creative really fumbled this ppv ngl).

P.S. if punk was actually supposed to do the post show and they opened so they had that chance for a break, and only missed cos he genuinley felt unable to do it after the match, while i can better understand why the match would have opened, it still doesn't stop it from outshining everything else on the card like that.

[paperstarwriters]

Hey, do you take requests? I loved your Modern Roomate Muriel X Reader fic and I would love a part 2 if you ever felt like writing it <3

Yes I take requests! But it does take a while for me to finish them cause I'm slow and this was no exception lol

thank you for waiting though! and I'm glad you like my writing enough to want more!

For this one I've tried to keep descriptions vague but also I tried to be accurate with Muriel's colors. Though if you can't tell I'm still not exactly confident with makeup lmao. Tbh i can't use it much since I'm prone to rashes, so I don't have much experience lol. Still I hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Modern Roommates Muriel x Reader

Warnings: Lots of fluff & Author knows little about Makeup 😅.

Summary: Muriel admits that he has worn makeup before, but under such bad circumstances, you can't help but want to give him a better experience.  More important than the colours, more important than the fine lines, you want this to feel... Nice for Muriel. Like he's being pampered. He deserves that you think.

Word Count: 3, 640

Part 1 | Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Painting

"So have you worn make up before?" 

Muriel pauses in making breakfast, turning to face you as you sip at your glass of water at the table. Had he not noticed you come in? He's typically very (annoyingly) good at that. Any chance of preening at your sudden ability to sneak up on your roommate falls flat as he makes a scrunched expression. Disgust perhaps? Or discomfort? You can't tell as he quickly turns back to his cooking, too soon to let you see what exactly he might have felt. 

Thankfully, he graces you with a reply. 

"I... Did before..... For a bit.... For a.... Job." 

Your stomach sinks. 

It's funny how much there is to notice. What you can pick up and understand when you live so closely with a quiet roommate. How a hum can mean a number of things, ranging from a simple yes to, "I think that's kinda dumb but you know what, you do you." or "I appreciate you too much to disagree." And for all that Muriel did not talk to you about his past, he only ever reserves the word "Job" for one job he's had in the past. Everything else is called work. This, you're sure, is better called torture. 

Asra mentioned it once to you before, when you were new roommates and he was far grouchier and colder. Muriel worked a job under some toxic super wealthy frat boy manager doing something violent and unsavory. A boxing ring you sometimes imagined, an assassination job it sometimes sounded like. In desperate need of money he had to do a lot of terrible things. It's a wonder he ever got out without someone chasing him to drag him back in, but well, thanks to the r3d outbreak getting away is way easier when your employers get sick, or when you can feign an illness and leave as the higher ups fear for their lives.

What kind of make up would that kind of job need? Maybe something black around the eyes like they do for the military with their masks? Or was it make up to appear more sick in order to escape?

Muriel sighs as he pushes your plate closer to you, startling you as you hadn't even noticed it was there. You mutter your thanks before you start eating the eggs and rice he's prepared for you, still trying to chew over what his possible past experience might have been with makeup while you try to chew your food at the same time. The result is tenuous of at best as you run very close to choking on your food a handful of times and miss your mouth once or twice when particularly deep in thought. 

What kind of makeup did Muriel even use?

...What would he look like in makeup?

On that point, what would suit him best? Something dramatic and edgy or emo? Or maybe a pop of colour? Green around his eyes might draw lovely attention to the green within, but a dark eyeliner might as well. What about contrast? Red against green? Wouldn't he look lovely in red? A lingering stain of red on his cheeks, and a bright red stain of red on his lips... Ah how kissable they would be then?

...well, anyone would consider his lips kissable if such plush things were stained a vibrant red...

"Are... Are you done?" Muriel mumbles, eyes diverted to tracing the scuffmarks at the bottom of the wall beside him.

It takes you a moment to realize that your plate is already empty, and a moment longer to realize you had been staring at Muriel for the last few minutes as you daydreamed about makeup. You're quick to rectify your mistake as you redirect your attention to your empty plate, though it takes you another moment to remember that it's your turn to wash them, plucking your plate and his from the table to go and wash.

It's silent for awhile. An anxious little silence wrought with a familiar lighthearted tension. It's more awkward than anything, but someone needs to break the silence, someone needed to say something. If you could just—

"Do you wanna try wearing makeup?" you blurt out. You don't even need to turn to look behind you to see his shocked expression at your offer, maybe even a little bit of hurt or betrayal that you just cannot bear to see. So you keep your eyes on the dishes before you, quickly scrubbing away rice with a sponge as the used pan sits below soaking in the water. "Not any battle make-up or anything, but just something... I don't know... Artsy or something? Something colourful? Something that would compliment your eyes..... Uhm not that your eyes aren't pretty or something—or that you're not pretty without makeup—or that you even need to do this at all haha!" 

Above you the light from the small kitchen's lightbulb is eclipsed by a familiar figure behind you. With a gentle touch of your shoulder, Muriel brings your attention up towards him though he still looks away, avoiding your eyes, as the corner of his lips twitches. You can't tell if he's fighting a smile or fighting a frown. 

"You don't have to, Muriel. It's just an idea..." 

And finally he meets your gaze. "I... No. I... I'd like that. It sounds...nice." 

His eyes wander away from you again, as if ashamed to confess that he'd like to wear make up—though maybe, considering what you've heard about that shitty old job, he is. Maybe his old job was the type to argue that pretty makeup was for the weak and spineless, or maybe he was convinced that pretty makeup was only for the rich and wealthy who came to watch or hire him to fight for them, all while they'd sit so far away and safe and cozy in some plush lounge seat, so far away from the danger and the violence, but getting the chance to watch, and delight in the wretched outcome.

Either case is so awfully sad. Either case only makes you want to doll him up in makeup even more.

Furiously you scrub at the pan, and within a matter of seconds you've scraped off anything that had ever threatened to stick, thoroughly scrubbed at it with soap and set it aside to dry with the plates as you wipe your hands on your shirt and nearly bolt off to your room to search for your materials. Hopefully you had colours that would work well with him. 

It takes you a moment to realize that you're alone in your room, turning with a handful of tools to find no one there behind you, and as you peek out of your door and down the hallway, you find Muriel still standing in front of the sink, staring at you with wide confused and slightly worried eyes. 

"Do you not wanna do it anymore?"

His eyes seem to go even wider for a moment, before he replies, "right now?" 

"Did you want to do it later?"

"I—no....okay!"

And back in to your room you go, this time with the added assurance that Muriel would follow, marked by the faint thud of his feet against the hallway floors.

You dig around for your cleanest brushes, and grab your most trustworthy (and thus most used) brushes alongside it, grabbing something to clean the brushes as you bolt off to the bathroom  to wash your tools, before you return to searching your assortment of tools in search for items that would suit him. The red of one lipstick would look lovely in contrast to his eyes, but a muted dusty pink might look just as pretty wouldn't it? Perhaps a bold black eyeliner, would be a bit much—and maybe a bit too similar to whatever black eye paint they used in the military if he used that stuff, so maybe a brown eyeliner would work a bit better? If you even had one of those... Though maybe brown eyeshadow would be effective enough? Ah but maybe brown wouldn't be as noticeable...

You zip back and forth between the washroom and your tools, between cleaning and searching for colours and palettes rummaging through your rather limited assortment of makeup tools. Having only ever bought stuff for yourself, you didn't really have much outside of your favourite colours or in tones that would suit your skin, but a few older products that you tried and didn't like, or a few palettes with sparsely used colours were surely somewhere within the mix. 

You only pause in your searching as you're pulling your brushes out from the washroom, having dried them off loosely with a towel to go further air dry them beside a nearby fan or in the sun by the window or something, you had been in the middle of deciding when you realized you had forgotten a crucial component. 

"Hey Muriel?" 

He sits up straight at the sound of his name, head snapping away to look out the door, as his hands ball into fists as if bracing for the touch of your brush. 

You can't help but hesitate a bit at the sight. 

"What.....?"

"Oh, uh, you should probably go wash your face, and use some cream on your skin as well. The one in the flat container should be pretty good for most skin I think?"

Muriel nods, still not looking your way as you return to your make up drawers in search for odd colours you only maybe, hopefully had for him.

When the sound of the sink finally shuts off, you take it as your cue to give up. It's an odd assortment of colors—you doubt you'd use that neon shade of green on him, even if green is his colour the brightness might be a bit...off-putting right away, but you have a general colour scheme you can follow using some of the colours on hand. 

Face ever so slightly damp and shiny from the cream, Muriel returns, looking... Anxious to say the least really.

He fiddles with his hands a bit, touching his face almost just as much, trying to wipe away invisible droplets of water, or trying to smooth down the thicker patches of the lotion you let him borrow. 

And again, you find yourself hesitant.

"Are you sure you wanna try this? No shame in backing out. It's easy to put this stuff away." 

Muriel nods, following his silence with a half whispered reply. "No, I'm ..... I'm okay. I want to try...."

You nod, and pulling your first brush from it's little cup, you settle down, and begin to get to work. 

It's a lot of careful maneuvering, carefully dabbing colours onto some places with a brush, rubbing other places with your fingers, before you lean away to check how you're doing. Were the colours too bright? Was that line off? There are a few things that you end up having to scrub off with a makeup wipe, but even with that you're careful of his skin. More important than the colours, more important than the fine lines, you want this to feel... Nice for Muriel. Like he's being pampered. Muriel barely moves through the entirety of it all, but for what little he does it means all the world to you. Silent and unmoving, eyes and mouth closed, Muriel serves as the perfect canvas, only difficult in the fact that it keeps you from seeing whether he likes it or not, if he feels pampered or not. At the very least, you hope it feels nothing like whatever his old job used to do for him. 

Ah, but you can only really hope. 

An orange-red lipstick is the final touch, but your limited supply of brushes are already all packed with colours, and you'd like to —if all possible—keep the things that touched your eyes from going towards anyone—including your own—mouth. 

So you elected a far simpler method instead. You rub your finger against the lipstick bullet, and with your finger to his lips you smudge the colour against his skin. And with a simple touch to his lips, you make him jolt, breaking his statuesque composure, for just a moment before he's still all over again, albeit maybe leaning a little more foreword than before. If he has, it's barely noticeable, and probably caused by that one jolt of movement. His lips are a bit chapped and dry, so it takes a few attempts, but you manage to stain his lips with a suitable amount of colour in your eyes. 

You take a step back to see what you've done, and smile, satisfied at your work. It's nothing special, nothing on the level of some professional in a studio with all the makeup options in the world at their fingertips, but you think that it suits him, and you're proud of that much at least.

"You can open your eyes now." 

You offer him a hand mirror, and let him examine your, admittedly shoddy work. It's not perfect, but the colours look nice you think, though you can't help but wince at the selection a little. You just didn't have a shade of green that would fit him well in your opinion, so you leaned instead into the red colours that you did have. You used the only greens you could find to add a little colour to the inner and outer corners of his eyes, and used a warm orange-y-red lipstick on his lips that turned out pretty dark against his skin, you also smudged the colour a bit along his cheeks as well, as a sort of blush really though if you could you'd like to try to capture that shade of red his face so often blooms. It really isn't your best work, limited as your colour palette was, but....

Well, the way his eyes seem to glitter more at seeing it.... Well, it would make any make up look pretty on him really.

"Can I... Ask for one thing?" 

You blink, surprised for a moment before you're immediately grabbing the makeup wipes again. 

"Sure! Do you not like the colours? Is there a colour that you'd rather wear?" 

His cheeks tint red, and you almost curse yourself for the smudge of dark red on his cheeks, making it harder to decipher that exact shade. Surely you had lipstick in that colour at least...?

"What.... What was the colour of lipstick you were wearing last night....?" 

You pause for a moment, dropping the attempt of colour matching to grab the tube of lipstick from it's place on your table. It was a dark red shade, almost like the colour of blood, a shade you specifically aimed to avoid, hoping that it wouldn't make him uncomfortable. 

"This one? You wanna try it on?" He barely even looks at it before he nods, making you sigh as you bring it closer to him to let him inspect it. "It might look different on your skin than it does on mine just an fyi, so don't be surprised if it looks different okay?" 

Muriel nods again, this time having looked at the lipstick a little more thoroughly. He doesn't react to the colour at all no trace of hesitance or weariness, so perhaps they didn't try to paint him in "blood" or anything dramatic like that. 

With your fingers once again, you press the red colour against his lips, as Muriel leans into your touch this time, eyes closed as he lets you work. The sight of it startles you for just a moment, looking as if he were leaning in for a kiss. 

Your finger slips from it's path, and a smudge of red, streaks away from his lips, but even that looks so.... Pretty against his skin. Like he's been kissed, like whatever lipstick he had been wearing had been smudged by another pair of lips eager to express their affection. 

You hesitate, staring at his lips for a moment before you finally turn away to grab more makeup wipes. When you turn back, Muriel's eyes are already open, already staring at your sloppy job with his lipstick. 

"Sorry I'll fix it. Do you like the colour though?" 

Muriel's eyes flicker to yours for a moment before he looks away, but a grin curls his painted lips, as more colour takes to his cheeks. A resounding yes, then, confirmed by a faint hum. A job well done in your books then, and thus a debt well repaid, for his gentle hand at helping you wash your own makeup off. 

You dab at his lip to wipe away the smudged lipstick, before you begin to pack up your supplies. "Feel free to wear that for however long you'd like, I...." you cut yourself off. The offer to help wash the make up from his face tucked away along with your makeup containers. Muriel helped you to clean off the makeup only because you needed his help exhausted and maybe a little drunk from your night out, but Muriel can surely handle himself. 

When you turn back around, Muriel is staring at himself in the mirror. It's the most you've seen him look in a mirror to be honest. Not including the bathroom, your room seems to be the only one in the apartment with a mirror, and though you've offered to let Muriel borrow your mirror if he needs to, or to help him buy his own, he's staunchly refused your offers. It was a small thing though, nothing that you'd feel the need to press him about. He's covered in scars after all, and you know full well how he feels about those—the whole reason why you let him use a handheld mirror than your full sized one. 

But now, as he holds your little handheld mirror up, to look at his face, you can't help but notice how he traces his own lips with a newfound reverence, fingers dancing along the flesh with the barest touch as if he were worried it would smudge, or wipe away with a mere touch. Yet even then, the corners of his lips are pulled up. Did he like it that much? You make a mental note to buy extra of that colour the next chance you get alongside some green eyeshadow perhaps, though by the looks of if, Muriel seemed to much prefer the lipstick that stained his lips than any of the other colours you've splattered on his face. 

It takes him a few moments, but when his eyes finally flicker up to you, he does so with a smile, that promptly fades into a blushy pout as he realizes your attention. It's a tragedy to see it go, but seeing his lip jut out at the attention is nearly as good. 

"Do you like it?" 

You're startled at his question, for a moment, scrambling for coherent thought to best reply to him. The reply you give in the end makes your own face grow warm, though earnest and true. 

"You look lovely." Even your expression softens a little, as your eyes flit back down to his lips.  Once more, Muriel's face picks up colour again, but try as he might, he can't quite keep the smile from curling up the corners of his mouth at his words. 

"Thank you."

Standing, Muriel fidgets with the mirror for a moment before handing it to you, mouth parting for a moment before he thinks better of it and closes it again. It continues for a moment or two, making him stay longer than you'd expect him to, as he stares anywhere but you. Familiar with the gesture, you wait for him to get his words in order, even as he looms above you while you're half sitting against the ledge of your drawers.

If anything, you take the moment to re-assess your work, recalling all the improvements you fully intended to make if he let you do this again. If you could, you'd use a shade closer to his eye colour as his eyeshadow next time, to bring more attention to the colour there. Or maybe even some sparkles next time? If he didn't mind them that is, it could be a bit irritating to try to clean off sometimes. And maybe next time you'd choose a better shade of blush that would match the actual red to rise in his cheeks. 

And the red of his lips... You're tempted to reach up, to press a finger to his lips once more, if only to feel how plush they were again, if only to give him more of that pretty red that he seemed to like so much despite his past.

And you watch as those pretty painted lips part, as those lovely emerald eyes finally dart your way. You watch as his attention finally turns to you, mouth parted as if ready to speak before he pauses, just for a breath, eyes searching your face for... Something. 

And maybe he finds it. Maybe he doesn't. But in reaction to whatever he sees, just a little bit of that tension escapes his face, shoulders sagging and the faintest curl of his lips gracing his expression. 

"Next time," the spell breaks as he speaks, mouth corralled into a pout once more as his eyes dart away from you, "Next time let me put your make up on for you."

And with that he turns away fingers just brushing against yours as he leaves your room, leaving you to blink and wonder what sort of makeup he knew to apply. 

If anything, at least he seemed to like it.

If anything, you had another reason to feel his fingers against your skin...

[notsocheezy]

V-Day - The First Twenty-Four Hours

Guess who's got two thumbs and no penis? That's right, this girlish-shaped thing!

👍👍

My "the surgery" went off without a hitch! And it couldn't have happened at a weirder time. The news has been absolutely wild this week, hasn't it? Mass Windows system outages, Biden dropping out of the presidential race... probably some other stuff... I'll be honest, I'm a little woozy from the Oxycodone, so a lot of the past week escapes me at the moment. But let me tell you all about the first day. I still remember most of that.

I arrived at the hospital at about 5AM yesterday, and they had me wipe down with CHG wipes even though I'd just taken a CHG shower. I guess they like to be safe. But it leaves a residue that isn't the most pleasant thing in the world. It's kind of like when you step out of the ocean and the salt dries onto your skin in a fine, well-seasoned flaky layer.

After that, they gave me a morphine injection into my spinal fluid, which according to the pain management guy, reduces the overall necessary intake of opiates/opioids (what is the difference between those anyway?). So far that seems to be very true. My new bits don't hurt in the slightest even now, after the injection has worn off.

On the other hand, though, there has been excruciating pain in my chest and shoulders. You see, this was a laparoscopic surgery performed with a fancy robot - the DaVinci XI - and they had to pump me full of CO2 so they'd have room to work. That's right folks - I'm carbonated. And they didn't just give me one new hole, but an additional five incisions on my abdomen, which also don't really hurt but damn are they itchy. It turns out though, being a human balloon is a really bad experience. If I'd had an inflation kink before, this would probably have killed it in its tracks.

When I woke up in Recovery, I was at 10/10 on the pain scale. It was truly miserable. They had to inject me with Fentanyl (Ooooooh, scary!) just so I could breathe. Once they did, though, I was fine. That is, until they moved me onto the bed in my room several hours later. Now the pain comes and goes, but I'm on pills for that.

Other than the chest pain, the most uncomfortable thing is the catheter. It constantly feels like I've just gotten back from a long road trip without pit stops, or the credits just rolled on an IMAX screening of Oppenheimer (I saw that twice, by the way). I have to pee so damn bad, but I'm just kinda... always peeing. Very weird. Nice not to have to get up, but I'm not even really allowed to get up. Which is a shame, because I'm told moving around will help the CO2, ahem, escape. Via the most obvious channel, of course.

On that note, I was on a liquid diet until about an hour ago, and now I've got an omelet and some oatmeal that they forgot to put sugar or salt in. They really want to get my guts up and running again - they gave me a laxative and a stool softener. But I'm nervous about getting up from the bed. I've got more wires attached to me than my PC at home, so I'll need to unhook everything to get to the bathroom.

Anyway, other than being misgendered a concerning amount of times by people who should be able to read the word "vaginoplasty" on my chart, everyone has been very kind. I thought I'd be more scared and depressed being left in the hospital by myself, with all my loved ones hours away, but I've been able to make friends with the nurses.

If you're on the fence about getting this done because you're scared of the recovery process, don't worry. I'm only a day in and I'm doing just fine. Electrolysis was significantly more painful down there than this is. Can't speak for more traditional methods, but the robot is damn good. I, for one, welcome our new robotic sex-change overlords.

Anyway, stay tuned for more. I'm here all week.

[cobwebliss]

Alright, the new episode. I haven't talked about new episodes in like two years. Back then I was on Twitter. How things have changed.

One thing hasn't changed. Parker, how many times have you worn that exact same shirt in these videos? Is that your favorite shirt or something?

Oh, also, the hand gestures. Those haven't gone anywhere.

At least he's still leaving his hair longish.

Thank you for asking the question we all had, Chester.

He's obviously trying to look like a psychologist or something. However, I appreciate it as a more general "This is how an intellectual dresses" vibe. I have a history of trying to write intellectual Parker (White Noise, Stars Shining) so this fits well for me.

Slightly annoyed honestly, the new fic I'm working on starts with a dive into psychology a bit and now I feel like it's gonna look like I was trying to rip off this episode.

Pretty sure we've seen him in glasses somewhere before though.

Okay, the little Beauty and the Beast sign is cute.

I legit think that Caleb might have been Chester in a wig. He sounds like him, has a similar body shape, etc. They purposely blur his face when he turns to look at Parker in the next shot. Of course, that might just be to hide the horrible vomit effect but still, why do we never see his face? Usually they show their faces.

Everything about this scene. The way Parker's hair is weird and kinda styled like he was trying to avoid getting the gunk on him. The way his glasses are somehow spotless yet he still takes a moment to clean them. The way he thinks this is vomit but is just totally fine with it. Would you just stand there calmly if somebody just threw up on your face? Also, does this count as blackface?

Pretty certain she only invited them over because she wanted to bang Parker and you know what? Good for her. Go for it girl.

I appreciate the extra detail that this bed is the nicest, cleanest bed they've had on the show. They could have just made it generically gross like the other beds but no, they wanted to make sure we all saw how spotless Chester's bed was when he lied to Parker.

I love that this is the smallest bed yet but Parker sleeps like a legit vampire.

Pretty sure they just had Beetlejuice in their house.

Thank you for catering towards my choking kink once more guys.

Unfortunately, no marks left on his throat this time.

The way they seem to go out of their way to show her barefoot just to stick her in these random heels in bed? Was she trying to seduce Parker with her bare feet? Or did she put on the heels before bed in case he came back and took her up on her offer?

And lastly, the apparently broken clock:

[elliespeach]

fantasizing about protective festival!ellie

warnings: 18+ explicit sexual descriptions, drug use, alcohol use, very Very brief choking kink, implied homophobia, mild possession, pet names

an: an offering until i finish part 2 of you belong to me i thought of this at work and knew she would be a festival girlie okokenjoy

she def tried to convince u to let her buy an airtag and stick it in ur outfit just in case she lost you in the crowd “you could just call me els” “what if ur phone dies” she pouted

she wore a simple button up that was unbuttoned with a sports bra underneath, her abs showing which made ur toes curl and loose basketball shorts. meanwhile u had to spend hours trying to find what to wear, always earning a “everything looks so good on you baby” as ellie watched u change for the 8th time

“absolutely not” she protested one of the more scandalous outfits u tried on, typically she wouldn’t care and actually liked ur skin showing to be able to flaunt you around “you know how these people are there, i don’t need you being ogled all night”

no bc watching her dance at the actual festival was intoxicating, grinding up behind you going with the beat of the music, grabbing ur ass and feeling u up in a way that felt hungry

also note she had a blunt resting in her mouth while she danced on u AHH

im also picturing her in a backwards worn out ball cap do with that what u will,, ok carrying on

u were only crossed, as when u suggested trying something a bit harder ellie def had something to say "idk babe u dont even take well to being too high sometimes" "fine but were doing shots!"

so u both were wasted, she guided ur hips with her hands to spin you around to face her the strobe lights started going crazy for the drop of the song that was playing

ellie hit the blunt while u watched not even questioning it bc she was so fucking fine while doing

she inhaled slightly and leaned in, grabbed ur neck face and blew the smoke into your mouth for u after u exhaled she wrapped her free arm around ur waist pulling u closer in

this time she kissed u and kissed u hard, still grinding to the music while doing so ofc

her hand wandering around ur back down to ur ass and when the kiss ended u continued dancing and ellie took a quick glance around

she saw a guy poking at his friend then pointing to u and her and immediately protective mode was activated

"cmon, i gotta go to the bathroom" grabbing ur hand and not even giving u the chance to respond "ellieeeeeeeee"

u guys were towards the back because "i dont wanna lose u in the crowd plus i think i would suffocate"

"els we just went to the bathroom" "i saw some guys staring at us, i didn't like the looks of it" she was very occasionally glancing in the direction where u guys came from, obviously worried

"lets go finish this and then go back" she suggested and brought u to the back of one of the food stands,, holding ur hand the entire time of course kinda too tight like she was white knuckling that shit

u guys passed it back and forth a few times before the redness of your perfect eyes, being crossed, and full on craving u overwhelmed her

"els!" u giggled as she sucked on ur exposed neck, marking every single square inch she possibly could before moving to ur jaw

ellie being ellie she lightly bit ur earlobe sending shockwaves thru u n feeling the surge of confidence ((and bc shes a cocky shit)) she goes "let those try guys come near you, you're mine"

immediate butterflies. immediate pulsing in ur pussy like oh my GOD and being so horrendously down bad u say "i'm yours"

instinctively u stretched ur arms over her shoulders and as soon as u started to move ur hands thru her hair in pleasure she threw the remaining blunt to the ground and literally picked u up

like hoisted u up so that ur legs were around her waist, one of her hands placed itself on ur back the other firmly on ur ass

this was all mid kiss btw

she spun around and crashed ur back into the back of the food stand and bc shes so strong she could hold you there basically by holding herself so close to you

she reached a hand down feeling ur pussy thru the very light shorts u had on "no underwear, huh baby?" all u could do was shake ur head the feeling of her touching u was overwhelming to say the least "and already so wet, tsk tsk"

u blushed but thank god it was dark bc she wouldve teased u about it and u wanted so badly for her to just kiss u again u leaned in slightly as if asking permission

"and so needy" "please, els" "what was that?" she paused her fingers on ur core and u whined "words princess, i need words"

sigh, anyway

leaving the festival she knew u were drained and let u piggy back most of the way to the car, she drove back home letting u sleep peacefully in the passenger seat

when u guys got back home she was fully prepared to carry u in but u woke up

but u were way to tired to get ready for bed so she undressed u, showered u, and put u in one of her tee shirts and ultimately put u to bed only to be interrupted by her coming to cuddle only a short time later

[vexic929]

Child in Time

Chapter 2

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: link Next chapter: link

"So let me get this straight," Joe said, leaning forward on the sofa and resting his elbows on his knees as he processed what Barry had told him. The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light across the room, highlighting the worry etched on Joe's face, and the worn leather of the sofa creaked slightly as Joe shifted his weight. "Somebody - you think you, from the future - dropped off a baby in your lab with no warning and now you think that you need to be the one to take care of him. Tell me again why you can't do the responsible thing and drop him off at a hospital?"

Barry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, exhaustion seeping into his bones. Had he eaten enough? Probably not, he'd been so preoccupied...Joe spoke again before Barry could respond.

"Barr, look. You're barely out of college, you're still figuring your own life out. You're not equipped to take care of a child, especially one with...whatever issues you said this baby has. You haven't even had him for one day and you look dead on your feet, how are you gonna take care of him long-term?" Joe asked and Barry shrugged helplessly.

"Joe, I can't just leave him. I don't know why I brought him here but I know there has to be a reason."

"How do you even know it was you who left him?" Joe countered.

"I left a note-" Barry started but Joe interrupted.

"You know as well as I do that notes can be forged." Joe insisted, his frown deepening.

"Who would forge my handwriting to hand me a baby?" Barry asked incredulously.

"I dunno, Barr, who the hell would give you a baby in the first place? You're not ready to be a dad."

Barry leaned back in his chair tiredly, scrubbing his face. "So, what, I should just let him go into the system?"

"I'm not saying that-" Joe started but the sound of the front door handle twisting interrupted him and they both turned to look as Iris walked through. "Hey baby girl, it's kinda late. Everything okay?" Joe asked after a moment as Barry tried to pretend they'd been talking about anything else.

"I know, I'm sorry, everything's fine, I think I missed packing up a couple of my notebooks and one of them has like all of my notes from Sociology 102," she said, setting her bag and coat down by the door. "What are you two up to?"

Joe shrugged nonchalantly and Barry leaned on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, trying unsuccessfully to look as calm. "Nothing." They each said and Iris pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow in suspicion before heading upstairs to retrieve the notebooks.

Barry let out a heavy sigh and Joe turned to him again, studying him closely. "You sure about this, Barr? This is a hell of a responsibility to take on - and I'm not just talking about the parenting part. I know you're gonna do your damned best and love that kid, I'm not worried about that, but if he has other parents out there you might have to give him up after all this trouble is done."

The thought made Barry's insides twist uncomfortably but he shoved the feeling aside. "I know."

Joe sighed. "Alright, if you're set on this, I'll trust your judgment. Guess we better get things set up, then - in your room, I did enough time dealing with a baby at 2 in the morning."

"Who's dealing with a baby at 2 in the morning?" Iris echoed, entering the hall, notebooks in hand.

Barry's heart ached with the weight of everything he was keeping from her as he scrambled for a good excuse, feeling a bit like all he'd told her lately were lies. "Uh...a friend."

Iris pursed her lips. "Who?" She asked, suspicion evident in her tone.

Barry cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly feeling something like a desert. "Oh, um...a friend from college, you don't know them. They had a...family emergency. I'm just...you know, stepping in."

Iris frowned, clearly not buying it. "Since when do you have friends with babies?"

"Missed a lot in nine months," Barry said, trying to keep his tone light. "It's no big deal, really. Just helping out."

Joe interjected, clapping Barry on the shoulder. "Barry's just doing what he always does, helping people. Right, Barr?"

Barry nodded, grateful for Joe's support, even if it was a bit thin. "Yeah."

Iris studied them both for a long moment, clearly still unconvinced but choosing to let it go as she gathered her bag and coat. "Alright. Well, if you need any help while you're...babysitting, let me know."

Barry smiled, though it felt strained. "Thanks, Iris. I'll keep that in mind."

—

"Well, the blood tests look good," Caitlin said, crossing the room with a stack of papers to show Barry, who was standing and rocking the now sleeping infant idly in the doorway. The med bay was quiet, the soft hum of machines and the scent of antiseptic in the air. Barry peered over her shoulder as she flipped through them. "He isn't deficient in anything, he's even already had some of his immunizations. He's perfectly healthy, at least physically."

Barry breathed a sigh of relief and glanced down at the baby who had smushed his face into Barry's shoulder, his tiny fists gripping his T-shirt tightly. He stroked the soft wisps of hair gently almost on instinct and Eo let out a tiny sigh before burrowing further into his shirt.

"Good. Did you test...I mean...can we see if he's mine?" Barry asked hesitantly.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know and he was pretty sure that Dr. Wells wouldn't like that he'd even asked - something about Barry not becoming attached or learning too much that could alter the timeline. But Barry needed to know at least that much, he couldn't stand not knowing, especially if it turned out Eo was his.

Caitlin nodded, setting the papers aside and crossing to the computer. "I did test and...while he is not a match for you, he did match someone else."

Caitlin pressed a button and Eddie Thawne's photo appeared on the screen. Barry felt his heart drop.

"So...Eddie's his father?" Barry asked and Caitlin shrugged.

"He's definitely related to Eddie but the results aren't clear on how close. Eo does look a lot like him, though." She commented and Barry looked down at the sleeping baby again.

He really did, if Barry was honest, he could easily imagine Eddie looking similar when he was the same age. Barry felt a surge of emotions run through him that he wasn't sure he could identify. It was a good thing, maybe, that Eo wasn't actually Barry's child...right? And, it made sense - Eddie and Iris were already on the fast track to starting their life together. Though his head spun and he felt faintly nauseous as he wondered what could have happened to Eddie and Iris if Barry was now Eo's guardian?

"Barry?" Caitlin's soft voice cut through his thoughts before they could spiral further. "You okay?"

Barry blinked and adjusted the baby in his arms. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a lot to process, you know?" He said, forcing a smile.

Caitlin smiled in sympathy and crossed the room again to lay a hand on his arm comfortingly. "I know. This is a lot to take in, but you're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

As Barry set up a nursery in Joe's house and finally settled Eo in for the night, he couldn't help but feel a sudden, overwhelming sense of uncertainty for the future. Granted, everything had been a bit uncertain as of late, but as he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the crib where Eo slept soundly, Barry felt a pit in his stomach. He knew Joe was right - this was a monumental responsibility, one he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for.

Barry leaned back, rubbing his eyes and trying to clear his thoughts. The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. Joe's house had always been a place of comfort for Barry, a sanctuary where he felt loved. Now, it was also Eo's sanctuary, a place where another little boy could find safety, maybe a family.

Barry sat there a moment longer, letting the quiet seep into his bones, before changing into pajamas and climbing into bed, exhaustion pulling him under before his head had even hit the pillow.

[bubble-popping]

day 6? i think? roleswap au again yeah there's a lot of it

He couldn't stop shaking. Several minutes had passed. His breathing was still ragged. The stench of rust and slaughter still burned his nostrils. Blood still matted his fur. (He didn't even want to think about who's.) He felt so disgusting; he couldn't bear to look at himself.

He kept rereading the main channel on his communicator just to be occupied. His grasp on the device tightened and loosened, assuring him it was all real, that this wasn't some twisted nightmare.

That he'd just massacred so many innocent people--including his best friend. And worst of all, he still felt the overwhelming urge to do it again scratching at the back of his brain.

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, willing the bile to stay down.

"Some festival, huh?"

The enderian jolted, his entire body puffing up and a strangled enderman noise leaving his throat. He looked to the source of the voice, and all the panic-driven adrenaline that'd filled his veins crashed to a halt.

"Technoblade, what the hell! Don't sneak up on me like that!" His communicator creaked under his crushing grip.

Techno raised his arms in surrender. "Woah, sorry. Didn't realize ya were tryna have a moment there. I can go if-"

"No, no," Dream interrupted, maybe a little too quickly. "It's fine. You can stay. Just, surprised me is all." He relaxed against the oak tree at his back, letting his device de-materialize so his hands were limp in his lap. He hated the empty feeling, but the constant reminder of his crimes was worse.

The masked man approached to join him under the shade. He sat with a low sigh, knees bent and arms resting on top.

Something about Techno's presence was very comforting--in the way that an old trusty axe or a well-worn shield was. Of course, Dream would never admit this, much less to Technoblade himself.

"Ya wanna talk about it?" Techno asked, startling Dream from his thoughts.

Dream snorted. "Since when do you care about my mental health, Techno?"

"Since I found ya shakin' like a leaf under a tree covered in blood n' guts."

"Oh yeah, cuz I totally believe you just happened to be walking by. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was just mindin' my business walkin' down the Member Road when my comms exploded, no pun intended, so I was like 'Dream's goin' off? Oh, this I gotta see' and now I'm here."

Dream blinked at him blankly. Then he scoffed, and then he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Without even realizing, he gradually relaxed more and more until he was slouched against the trunk.

"So, you followed me out here to, what? Make fun of me? Brag about how you would've killed more?"

"Nah, I told ya, Dream. I came to see if yer okay."

"And I told you I don't buy that."

"Can I not care about my favorite rival?"

"Techno, I'm your only rival."

"Wow, Dream, that's kinda narcissistic of ya. Possessive too."

"Do you have any other rivals?"

"None on yer level, but I'd say I have a few. If I had known ya wanted to be exclusive then I would've told 'em-"

"Oh my god, shut up! You're so stupid! That's not what I'm saying!" Dream exclaimed while giving a playful shove. Techno promptly dissolved into hiccuping laughter. The enderman pretended his face wasn't heating up, crossing his arms like a petulant child, despite how he joined in the giggles.

Yet, he knew he needed this. Even if just for a moment, he could imagine everything was okay. That he was safe here, tucked away from the rest of the server with the admin harmlessly bullying him while an undeniable fondness grew in his heart.

A comfortable silence blanketed them once they'd calmed down. Dream could feel a certain exhaustion start to weigh on his eyelids, and inevitably his hands itched to grab something.

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter five

summary; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough – now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle this. it would be fine. everything was great.

word count; 20k

warnings; explicit sexual content, first time oral sex, car shenanigans, amber and stiles being annoyingly sweet on one another

chapter notes; stiles tries his hand at being romantic and roscoe sees some action. mayhem erupts when derek and his pack decide that the kanima has to be lydia.

masterlist

c h a p t e r f i v e

venomous

There was a quiet *tink* from her left and Amber's head snapped up in surprise from where she'd been laying on her bed reading a book for English. She blinked in the silence that followed before the soft noise sounded again and she pushed herself to sit up, abandoning the worn paperback on the bedspread beside her.

Still unsure where the sound was coming from, she dropped her feet to the floor at the edge of the bed and waited. She was just about to stand when there was a louder, more aggressive version of the noise as something smacked sharply against her window.

She rushed over to peer out through the glass and into the backyard. Squinting into the darkness below, she could just make out the shape of someone squatting beneath her window with their hood up, their hands digging around in the garden before blindly tossing another rock up at the window where it smacked aggressively against the glass in front of her.

Amber slid the slightly creaky window open and laughed when Stiles' head snapped up at the sound. He got to his feet quickly and brushed his hands off on his jeans before waving up at her with a sweet smile.

"Can I ask why exactly you're trying to break my window?" She laughed, leaning onto her elbows on the windowsill.

Stiles spluttered quietly below, "Wh- I'm not trying to- I'm throwing pebbles!" He told her, as if the simple correction explained everything.

"I think a couple of those might've been too big to be considered pebbles-"

"It is not my fault your backyard is significantly lacking in appropriately tiny rocks-" He interrupted.

"Sorry, sorry. Why exactly are you throwing pebbles at my window?" She amended, an amused smile pulling at her lips, "Y'know, instead of using the front door.."

"I- I'm being romantic!" He called up defensively.

"You know what would be really romantic?" She asked playfully, "If you weren't fifteen feet away and I could give you a kiss."

"Good call!" Stiles shouted as he scrambled away, his feet slipping in the damp grass beneath him as he ran out of the backyard.

She shook her head fondly as she watched him go before sliding the window shut again. She skipped down the stairs quickly, catching Jason raising his eyebrows at her curiously as he headed up the steps with a glass of water, the two of them meeting halfway on the staircase.

"Hey, did I hear the Jeep pull in a minute ago?" Her brother asked.

"You did." Amber paused in her path down the stairs.

"Knew it," Jason nodded, "That engine's got a very distinct and mildly concerning rumble-"

Amber laughed and went to continue her descent down the staircase but her brother's hand on her shoulder made her pause again.

"You two.. You're being safe, right?" Jason asked, looking painfully embarrassed as he forced question out of his mouth, "Because I, uh.. Well I noticed the box of condoms in the bathroom hasn't been opened and I want to be relieved but-"

"Wh- Jase, I promised I'd tell you if we moved past friendship and- and I did that. I mean.. Do- do we have to have this talk right now?" She muttered weakly, eyes flicking to the hallway that led to the front door.

"Yeah, we kinda do, bud," Her brother winced, "I just would feel a whole lot better if I knew you were at least prepared if you decide to-"

"If I open the box of condoms and promise to keep one on me, can we end this conversation?" Amber questioned frantically.

Her brother frowned with a sigh, "Yeah.. Yeah, I guess so."

"Good! Great!" She ran back up the stairs, tearing open the cardboard package in the bathroom and stuffing one of the foil wrappers into her pocket.

In the upstairs hallway, the siblings shared equally embarrassed looks as Amber shoved past him and ran back downstairs again. Stiles was standing patiently at the open front door as she stepped into the entryway and she took a calming breath at the sight of him.

"Well, hey there, Romeo." She greeted with a teasing grin as she met him the open doorway.

"Throwing pebbles is romantic," Stiles defended his actions immediately, "It's a staple in thousands of romance books, songs, movies, plays-"

"You are very romantic, Stiles." She pulled gently at the unbuttoned edges of the flannel beneath his sweatshirt until his chest was pressed against hers.

"Yes. I am. Thank you." His voice dropped into something quieter as his eyes flicked between hers, "I, um.. I was under the impression that I'd get a kiss if I used the front door."

"Oh, really?" She asked, leaning back just a little, "Who told you that?"

"Most beautiful girl in the world." He answered without hesitation, his hands resting softly on her elbows.

"Who is she? I hate her." She joked, already leaning in to brush their lips together.

He met her mouth halfway, slotting his lips between hers for a wonderfully long kiss. When he leaned back to catch his breath, Amber licked her lips in thought.

"What're you doing here?" She questioned after a second, "Did I forget we were supposed to-"

"I have an outing of sorts planned." He told her with a grin, "I know that things have been kind of crazy-"

"Mm, I hadn't noticed that-"

He ignored her interruption, "-and I wanted to do something to show you that I still very much want to take you out on dates and things. Despite the crap with the kanima."

"Dates and things," She repeated slowly, "Am I being courted, Stilinski?" His face broke out in a grin and he nodded, "What did you have in mind?"

"Well-" He started, turning to gesture toward the driveway where a familiar powder blue Jeep was parked with a wrapped bundle of flowers on the hood, "If you really wanna find out you'll just have to get your cute little ass in the car."

Amber bent over immediately to pull on a pair of shoes before pushing past him, "My ass is getting in the car!" She called out over her shoulder.

Stiles laughed as he followed but when she went to pull the passenger door open, a hand reached past her to grip the handle before she could move to do it herself. She spun around as the door swung open and her heart fluttered at the sight of Stiles holding up the bundle of white flowers behind her.

"You got me a bouquet of baby's breath?" She asked with a soft smile, reaching for the flowers and poking at the tiny buds delicately with the tip of her finger.

"I did," He smiled at her reaction, "You should've seen the florist's face when I asked for them, though. I guess they're normally only used as a filler for bigger flowers or something-? I'm pretty sure that she thought me asking for a bouquet of only baby's breath was, like, sacrilegious. The lady was not happy with me."

She brought a hand up to his cheek and brought their lips together again in a chaste kiss, "Well thank you for your sacrifice, because I love them. They're my favorite."

"Got a few more favorites waiting if you ever get your ass in the Jeep." Stiles urged playfully.

She rolled her eyes and turned to haul herself up into the vehicle, yelling out in surprise at the sharp smack of Stiles' hand against her backside as she climbed in.

"Sorry," He apologized quickly, "I don't know why I-"

She laughed loudly and sat down in the seat so she could turn to look at him, "Did you just slap my ass?" She questioned in amusement.

"I did," He admitted, cheeks flushing adorably pink, "I dunno what happened.. It was right there and I just-"

"Spanked me?" She asked, barely containing her gleeful laughter.

"I was trying to be a gentleman by opening your door and then I ruined it by- By spanking.. you." Stiles shook his head, an endearing flush still rising on his face.

"You're adorable. And you didn't ruin anything." She assured him.

He laughed weakly, "Okay.. Okay, we're moving on."

He closed the passenger door and rounded the vehicle quickly before climbing in on the other side. Once he was seated he leaned into the backseat and returned with a large styrofoam cup that Amber already knew came from the diner downtown.

"You got me a milkshake from Mal's?" She asked excitedly, placing her bouquet of flowers onto the dashboard to take the cup from his outstretched hand.

"I did," He confirmed before leaning into the back again and digging around, "I also got you this-" He sat back down in the driver's seat with a large paper shopping bag in his lap and Amber's eyebrows furrowed as she watched him set the bag down beside him on the seat, "But I'm not giving it to you until we get there."

She pouted and Stiles spun in his seat to turn the key determinedly in the ignition a couple of times. The engine rumbled to life and Amber perked up where she had her lips already wrapped around the straw of her drink.

"Where are we going?" She asked eagerly, placing her styrofoam cup between her legs in lieu of a cupholder.

"It's a really clear night tonight, so.. I was thinking driving out to the lookout might be nice?" Stiles asked more than told her, "We'll probably be able to see a lot of stars and stuff and I just thought it might be kinda cool. If you want, I mean."

Her stomach tangled in knots in a sort of nervous anticipation, "Yeah, yeah that would be cool."

It wouldn't be the first time they'd been to the preserve lookout together, or even the tenth. They'd gone there to camp out, picnic, stargaze, and spend countless lazy afternoons in the sun. But Amber wasn't entirely sure if they'd ever gone without Scott's company. On a night like this, the spot was practically calling out to be a romantic destination and the insinuation sparked anxious excitement deep in her bones.

Stiles navigated the dark evening roads through town and as her excited nerves grew, her fingers gravitated to pick mindlessly at a loose thread on the seam of her jeans. After a few minutes, her gaze drifted down to the paper bag still sitting temptingly in between them and she leaned over curiously in an attempt to peek inside.

"Nope," Stiles said as soon as he noticed what she was doing, pulling the bag protectively against his side and scowling at her, "I already told you.. You don't get the rest until we get there."

She pouted but settled back into her seat dutifully, bringing the straw of drink back to her lips and sipping on it as she watched buildings pass in a blur that eventually gave way to trees outside the window.

When her straw finally slurped obnoxiously at the bottom of the cup, her eyes dropped down to the milkshake in her hands in surprise and she found herself frowning and poking the straw around at the bottom as she searched for the final dregs of the beverage.

They were less than five minutes away from the preserve entrance when she tucked the empty cup away in the backseat to be dealt with later.

When Stiles finally parked the Jeep at the lookout and cut the engine, she turned in her seat to face him expectantly, eyeing the paper bag against his side.

"Okay, okay." He caved with a laugh, handing over the bag.

She peeked inside excitedly, surprised to find not just one thing, but several smaller items hidden away inside the bag. The first thing she pulled out was a package of sour gummy worms and her eyes rose to meet Stiles' gaze with a pleased smile.

"Your favorite candy." He supplied, gesturing for her to keep going.

The next item she found was a bottle of nail polish in a beautifully bright, sunflower yellow hue.

"Your favorite color." Stiles said slowly.

She looked back inside the bag and spotted a tiny bundle of green fabric and she reached for it in confusion. She fingered the soft material in her hand and her lips pulled into a surprised smile as she toyed with the stretchy material.

"You got me a scrunchie?" She asked, looking between the puffy elastic in her hands and the boy sitting across from her.

"I did," He said, "I know it's not technically a 'favorite' but, in my defense, I didn't really go out looking for it. I was just kinda browsing and then I saw that color and it made me think of the green in your eyes and so- And, uh, yeah.." He trailed off.

She pinched her lower lip between her teeth to stop her face from showing just how breathtakingly perfect of a human being she thought Stiles Stilinski truly was. The utterly endearing image of him plucking a large scrunchie from the shelf at a department store. And then paying for it at the register, where a middle aged woman had likely checked his purchase with a knowing look-

"Thank you," She told him softly, "I love it. It's a really nice color."

He looked slightly relieved at her reaction and he gave her a nod in indication to keep going. When she dove back in, it was to pull out a crisp, newly purchased paperback that she quickly flipped around to skim over the summary on the back cover, an excited smile taking over her face.

"Your favorite.. Genre, I guess?" He told her, "I know you're really into the whole 'whodunit' trope, so I asked the person at the bookstore and they recommended this one. I read the description and thought it sounded kinda cool-"

"It looks great. I'm really excited to read it." She assured him quickly, "Sti, this.. Is so sweet.. And so unbelievably unfair. You asshole. I cannot believe you're upstaging me by getting me such a thoughtful gift one month before your own birthday. Now I have to come up with something mind-blowingly perfect-"

"Anything you get me will be mind-blowingly perfect," Stiles shrugged easily, "Now open up that package of gummy worms because I've been thinking about them for the last hour and I really want one."

With a laugh, she returned all but the candy into the bag and placed it in the backseat before tearing the package open and poking around curiously at the different colors.

"I can never remember, is your favorite the one with the blue?" She questioned, pausing in deliberation.

"Yeah, the blue and red one." Stiles confirmed, scrambling to open his mouth when she immediately tossed one his way and he just managed to do so in time to catch it with his tongue.

"Too bad the blue isn't with the orange," She commented as she chewed on her own sour candy. Stiles furrowed his brows and she elaborated, "Y'know, because Mets."

He grinned, looking pleased with her reference, but before he could say anything she spoke again.

"Oh! Oh, wait, I have an idea!" She announced, picking through the bag excitedly.

She grabbed an orange and green worm as well as a blue and red one and bit off the unwanted colors. Pressing the remaining blue and orange pieces together, she held the new franken-worm up in display proudly.

"Mets!" She declared, handing the pieces of candy to the boy across the car.

"Perfect," Stiles agreed, taking the broken worm from her and tossing the pieces into his mouth, "You are perfect."

Amber's cheeks heated as she munched on her candy, her eyes drifting to the windshield to look out at the stunning view of the starry sky and the flickering distant lights of the lit up town over the cliffside.

"This is really, really nice." She commented after a few minutes of silence as they shared the bag of candy, "You didn't need to do all this, but I'm really glad you did."

He blushed lightly and readjusted in his seat, "Yeah, I just, um. I wanted to do something special."

He reached up to rub at the back of his neck and his shirt rose along his stomach with the action just enough to expose a bit of his happy trail. Her jaw slackened as she was drawn to the movement, eyes glued to the dark patch of hair as she attempted to swallow the candy in her mouth with a heavy tongue.

"I, uh. I actually-"

"Stiles?" She interrupted, licking her lips and dragging her gaze up to his face, "Can I come over there and kiss you?"

He blinked in surprise but nodded, "Yeah, yeah definitely. I- How could I say no to that?"

She slid across the leather bench seat and found herself simply staring at his lips for a moment before Stiles brought a hand to her cheek and drew their mouths together in impatience. She sighed against his lips contentedly as his fingers tangled in her hair and she sunk into the embrace, tilting her head in an attempt to seal their mouths together more firmly as his lips parted against hers. Their tongues brushed despite the awkward angle and she held back a groan at the taste of the candy that lingered on his tongue. She pulled herself away to kick her shoes off on the floor beneath the passenger seat and he frowned at the sudden loss of contact.

"What're you-"

His question was cut off as she climbed into his lap, thighs spread as she knelt over him, the steering wheel at her back.

"Is this okay?" She questioned, suddenly nervous as her fingertips skimmed along the soft fabric of his sleeves. Her weight pressed down against him more firmly as she settled into a comfortable position and Stiles nodded quickly in the dimly lit vehicle. At his approval, she leaned down to reconnect their mouths and he kissed her back eagerly, their lips moving against one another in a smooth rhythm.

She pulled back after another minute and huffed a quiet laugh against his lips when he gazed up at her in confusion.

"Stiles," She said, running her hands down his arms at their sides until she could take his hands into hers, "You're not even touching me." She pointed out gently.

"Sorry," He apologized immediately, "I'm sorry. I'm being really weird, aren't I? God."

At his admission, she leaned back a little further, thumbs rubbing softly along the backs of his hands, "Are you okay?" She asked, pushing herself up on her knees and making a small move to climb off of him, "Do you want me to-"

"No!" Stiles said quickly, reaching up to grip at the sides of her thighs and tugging her back down into his lap, "No, I'm sorry. I just-" He swallowed, "I'm really nervous." He admitted quietly.

She huffed in disbelief, trailing her hands up his chest and pressing her palms lightly over his pecks beneath the open edges of his flannel. As if emphasizing his words, she could feel the heavy thumping of his heart beneath her right hand.

"Did I do something wrong? Am I doing something that's making you nerv-"

"No." Stiles repeated, "I'm kind of- I'm terrified I'm gonna do something wrong and screw this up monumentally."

"So instead you thought the right move was to just.. Lie there like a corpse underneath me?" She questioned in amusement, "Stiles, you've given me a bloody nose with your elbow on two different occasions-"

"Both of which were accidents. And not at all relevant because it's not that I'm worried I'm going to injure you-"

"My point is that I'm not gonna run away if you don't put your hands in just the right-"

"I know, okay. I- Logically I know that." Stiles conceded, his fingertips drumming on the sides of her thighs anxiously, "I'm sorry. I- Did I completely ruin the mood?"

She shook her head, her hair whipping around between their faces as she did so.

"Stiles." She said firmly, watching him blink at her in question before she leaned down to press a quick kiss to his lips, "I'm still very much in the mood." She punctuated her words by rolling her hips down softly over his and was rewarded with a soft groan from him, "How about you?"

"Yeah, yes. Still very interested." He assured her quickly.

She tilted her head down to bring their mouths together again but separated their lips after a only moment to tug her shirt over her head, tossing it into the backseat. Stiles brought his hands up to skim the fabric of her bra seemingly without thought, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as his fingers twitched along her ribcage distractedly.

"You're doing it again." She scolded softly when he made no move to either grope nor kiss her, simply letting his thumbs rest along the underwire as he eyed her chest with interest.

"I- It is not entirely my fault-" Stiles defended quietly, "I mean, your tits are seriously-" He cut himself off with a wince, eyes rising to meet her own, "I mean- I- Your.. Breasts-?"

"Stiles, you can call them whatever you want. You seriously don't need to worry so much about offending me." She laughed, "I've been your best friend for eight years. I'm pretty sure I've heard you say things a lot more vulgar than 'tits'."

"Right, you're right." He nodded, gaze dropping back down to the plushness of her breasts displayed in front of him, "So, anyway- Your tits. Perfect. Freakin' amazing. And very, very distracting."

She blushed at the comment, settling her ass firmly over the tops of his thighs and arching her back, her chest canting toward him enticingly as she watched for his reaction.

"They are?" She questioned, reaching up to readjust the thin fabric of her bra over herself casually.

"When I slammed Scott's locker on his hand last week, it was because I was staring at your tits." Stiles admitted in a rush.

"You broke his fingers," She recalled before her eyes widened in both shock and amusement, "You broke Scott's fingers because you were looking at my boobs?"

"Listen, that bra was criminal. I mean, come on.. The lace?" Stiles defended, his thumbs drifting up to rub lightly over the bottom of her breast, "And besides, Scott was fully healed in like two minutes. He was being kind of a baby about it if you ask me-"

"I could wear that one next time," She offered breathlessly, "There's no padding, so I kinda feel like it makes my boobs look small but-"

"I can confidently say that your boobs would look incredible in absolutely anything." Stiles commented quickly.

"If you wanted to stop talking about my boobs and maybe start touching them for real.. I wouldn't complain-"

He wasted no time before palming both of his hands over her chest, his long fingers gripping the roundness of each breast as he dusted them over the material of her bra. He tightened his hands to squeeze softly and she let out a breathy exhale at the feeling, her hips rolling unconsciously against the slowly growing bulge in his jeans as she gripped the loose lapels of his over-shirt.

Stiles dropped his hands to her hips for half a second, his head dipping down to press a soft kiss in the space between her breasts before he slid his hands back to cup her ass. He pressed more gentle kisses to her chest, the tenderness contradicted by the tightening of his grip on her backside as he pulled her against him to help roll her hips rhythmically.

"You're wearing too many clothes." She breathed quietly after a few minutes, pinching his offending shirt between her fingers.

Stiles nodded in agreement and she leaned back as he sat up straighter and began to slip out of his sweatshirt and flannel. He threw both articles behind himself uncaringly before reaching behind his neck for the collar of his tshirt and pulling that over his head and from his body as well, letting it land over the steering wheel behind the girl in his lap.

She eyed his chest slowly, trailing down the subtle muscles as he nervously tensed his stomach under her attention. When her eyes caught on the dark patch of hair under his belly button that led beneath the waistband of his pants, she let out a shaky breath at the arousal that flooded her.

Her hands came out to follow the same path her eyes had taken only a moment before, fingers dragging slowly down his stomach until her thumbs met in the tiny trail of hair above his groin. She licked her lips and ran her thumbs softly over the dark hairs, the tip of her finger catching on the waistband of his boxers where they came up just above his jeans.

Stiles huffed out a quiet breath as he tried to keep still under her attention, his hands returning to grip tightly at her thighs as he steadied himself.

She leaned back down in a quick movement to recapture his lips hungrily. Her fingers pressed into his abdomen as his mouth opened beneath her own, lips parting and rejoining as they traded deep kisses.

His hand made a slow trail along her thigh until he could reach between them, his fingers pressing firmly between her legs over her jeans. She moaned against his lips and when he rubbed at the denim covering her crotch again, she detached their mouths to lean back and frantically undo her jeans. Stiles watched her with a dazed look for a few seconds before he moved to assist her, hooking his thumbs into her belt loops and tugging her jeans down over her ass.

"I- Fuck, just- Hold on-" She muttered, climbing off his lap to pull her jeans off entirely and throw them into the backseat with a frustrated huff.

As soon as she returned to his lap in her underwear, his hands settled back underneath her ass without prompting. The long length of his fingers squeezed at the exposed flesh and she groaned, leaning down to kiss him deeply again with her hands at his neck.

After only a minute, Stiles' hand found it's way between them again and his fingers skimmed lightly over the front of her underwear. Their mouths separated as he peeked down between them, hesitating as he debated how to approach things from a new angle.

"Don't second guess yourself, okay?" She whispered against his lips, "I'm pretty sure that you severely underestimate how much literally everything that you do turns me on."

"Yeah?" He questioned, fingers easing down between her thighs to press softly into her entrance through her underwear.

"Uh-huh." She whined with a nod, eyes drifting shut and fingers tightening around the back of his neck.

He tilted his chin back up to kiss her as his fingers hooked around the fabric between her thighs, one of his long digits slipping inside of her in a slow movement. She groaned into his mouth and ground down against his hand weakly, pushing his finger deeper. He thrust in and out only a few times before easily sliding a second finger in alongside the first, earning a quiet whine from the girl above him. He thrust his fingers in and out again with deep movements, her hips rolling down to meet each thrust.

Hands trailing down his chest again, she let the fingers of her right hand dip beneath his elastic waistband to rub lightly at the hidden patch of hair that trailed underneath. Stiles groaned into her mouth, hips bucking up into her touch and his fingers stilling inside of her distractedly for a second.

She fumbled unseeingly with the button on his jeans single-handedly but managed to get it undone, tugging the zipper down to give her more space to work with. Their mouths continued the hot rhythm of give and take and she finally followed the trail of dark hairs beneath his underwear until she could wrap a hand around his erection.

A loud groan erupted from Stiles' throat and her stomach flipped at the sound. She tightened her left hand around the back of his neck, fingertips pressing into his skin as she dropped her forehead against his to break the kiss.

"Off," She demanded vaguely, her hand making a retreat from beneath his pants. Stiles made a small noise of objection into the space between their lips before she continued, "Your pants. Underwear. Off."

"Yeah," He agreed quickly. He pulled his fingers from between her legs and began frantically working to help her shove his jeans down his hips as he toed his shoes off. "Yeah, okay. Taking them off-"

She rolled off of his lap as he clumsily stripped out of his remaining clothes, hunching forward while he kicked and pulled his pants from his legs completely before sliding his boxers off as well.

Once he was naked, he didn't give her even a second to look down at him in the dark car before his mouth found hers again in a heated kiss. She allowed him to control the pace for a long minute, her hands cautiously groping his naked hips until she couldn't wait any longer. She dragged her mouth from his and she pushed him away just enough that she could peer down into the space between them.

She stared for a long moment, transfixed with a confusing mix of arousal and fear as she looked at his dick for the first time. He was nearly fully hard already and she couldn't help the quiet noise that squeaked from her throat at the sight of him. Long and thick and flushed with arousal — so much nicer than anything she'd ever seen in amateur porn.

She shifted back to get a better look and her teeth caught her lower lip distractedly, eyes unable to focus on anything but the long length of Stiles' cock.

"God. Y're so hot." He said quietly, reaching out in the short space between them to slowly free her lip from between her teeth with his thumb.

Their lips met again frantically. He licked into her mouth without preamble and they both groaned at the hunger in the kiss. It was only a minute before she pulled back again, her eyes drawn back to where his hard cock bobbed untouched between them.

She shook her head, attempting to sort through her thoughts before any words could spill out of her mouth. She finally brought her eyes back up to his face, but the words that tumbled from her lips after a moment still managed to be wholly unfiltered.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Stiles dropped his hand from her face and frowned as he looked down self-consciously, "What's wrong?"

"I- Sti, you're huge. Like really, really-" She whispered nervously, eyes flicking between his slowly before dropping down to his erection again for just a second. When she looked back up, she watched an embarrassed flush rise on his cheeks and she swallowed before speaking again, "I just. I've never.. I mean, you are a lot bigger than what's currently stowed away in my underwear drawer and I don't know if I-"

"Wh- We don't have to-" He paused, eyes flicking between her panicked ones quickly, "We're not having sex right now.." He told her quickly before seeming to hesitate with wide eyes, "W- Are we?"

She looked at him in stunned silence for a second, "Oh. I just assumed you-" She took a shaky breath, "Okay. No, yeah, okay, that's kind of a relief."

"Hell. You just- You looked at it and then you-" Stiles breathed out harshly, "I-I thought something was wrong with-"

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with your dick." She interrupted quickly. Her hand twitched at her side and her eyes bounced between his nervously, "Can I-"

"Yes." He interrupted with wide, pleading eyes.

She shifted beside him in the seat and took his right hand in her left one as she slowly wrapped her right around his length once again and Stiles made a choked-off noise, leaning closer and bracing himself with a hand on the steering wheel. She tightened her grip and jerked her hand back and forth in slow motions, watching the way his face seemed to both tighten and go slack at the same time.

"Is this okay?" She checked quietly after a few pulls, continuing to jerk him slowly.

"Uh huh," He articulated with a nod, "Okay. Very, very okay."

"Okay." She whispered.

Her hazel eyes trailed back and forth between his brown ones slowly until he released another small noise and pinched his eyes shut. Her heart was pounding nervously in her ears as she focused determinedly on the movement of her hand around him.

As if he could feel her attentive gaze, Stiles' eyes blinked open slowly as he lifted his head to look at the girl in front of him. She pulled her lower lip back into her mouth anxiously at him watching her and he groaned, leaning forward to capture her lips with his own in a quick motion.

A soft sound escaped her mouth and she moved a hand to cup the side of his face, pulling his mouth against hers more firmly. She readjusted, throwing a leg over him to straddle his left thigh. Stiles made a sharp noise when the tip of his cock nudged against her stomach on the upstroke, his mouth falling open against hers as his jaw slackened in pleasure.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever felt so nervous, turned on, and frantic all at once before.

"C'you, uh, maybe-" His words were choked as he pulled her hand from his cock and brought it up between them, "Just, um, spit?"

"In my hand?" She questioned.

He nodded, cheeks managing to flush further with the request and she wasted no time in following the order, spitting into the palm of her hand before returning it to his length and resuming her movements.

Her hand slipped along his cock more smoothly with the added lubrication and drew a weak sound from his throat. The head of his cock prodded against her waist again lightly on the upstroke and his moan melted into an even more desperate noise.

"Gotta. Back. Lay back." Stiles pleaded against her lips, pushing on her shoulder to guide her back just enough that he could begin to change their position.

She didn't slow her hand as he attempted to guide her back to lay across the seats but she determinedly forced him to stay upright in the cab of the vehicle. Taking in a nervous breath, she gave him a demanding nudge, her free hand pressing into his chest firmly as she pushed him to sit back on the passenger side of the car.

The moment he complied, she dropped to her knees in the narrow space on the floor between his legs. Stiles looked down at her in awe as her own gaze lowered back to the slow slide of her hand over his cock. She flipped her hand, adjusting her grip and licking her lips in nervous anticipation.

"Okay, so I- Do you mind if I-?" She left the question hanging in the air, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Sure," He agreed immediately, "Wha'd'you-"

His words cut off sharply when she licked softly at his tip, having already leaned forward determinedly at his initial approval.

"Jesus, fucking-" Stiles exclaimed quietly, head thumping back against the seat and hand shooting out to grip at her shoulder in a frantic motion.

She slowly took the head between her lips and into her mouth. She eased down cautiously until she could suck lightly at just the first couple inches, continuing the motions of her hand over the parts her mouth didn't reach. She pulled back off to lick the length of his cock again and ran her tongue in a slow drag from the base to the tip before wrapping her lips around the end once more.

The next time she eased back to lick at the head, her mouth watered at the taste of Stiles' precome that began to coat her tongue.

Not entirely confident in how she was doing after thirty or so seconds of simply replicating what she'd seen in porn, she peered up to find Stiles already watching her with rapt attention, his mouth hanging slightly open as he pulled in choppy breaths. When she took the end back into her mouth again, her gaze caught on the tight fist that he was making with the hand not currently gripping at her shoulder, his knuckles pinched white.

"Amber, I-" He cut off with a quiet groan, "'m not gonna last very- Your mouth.. Is-"

She hummed in acknowledgment due to her mouth being otherwise occupied and he moaned loudly, his whole body twitching at the vibration that the noise made around his dick. His fingertips dug into her skin as his grip tightened unconsciously around her shoulder.

She pushed her mouth down another fraction of an inch, the head of his dick rubbing softly along the roof of her mouth as she experimentally eased her mouth a tiny bit farther down the length of him. His hips twitched suddenly in an upward thrust and the head of his cock prodded at the back of her throat, causing her to gag and pull back with a quiet cough.

"Sorry," Stiles apologized quickly, "Shit. Sorry. 'm so sorry-"

"'s okay." She assured him quickly, already leaning into the space between his thighs again.

She took a small breath in through her nose before determinedly sliding him into her mouth again. This time, when she pushed the first few inches in her mouth, she allowed the tip to softly nudge the back of her throat. She took a deep breath through her nose and fought determinedly against the instinct to gag.

Stiles moaned loudly and she reached her free hand up from where it had been resting on the leather seat beside him and nudged at his knuckles until he loosened his fist. She tangled their fingers together as she moved her mouth up and down the end of his shaft, letting the tip hit the back of her throat gently a couple of times and continuing to work her other hand along the base of his long length. His fingers tightened around hers almost painfully as he fought to remain still while she sucked and bobbed her head.

"You sh- You should-" Stiles slid the hand on her shoulder to fist into her hair and gently tugged her mouth off of him, "'Cause I'm-" He finished eloquently.

She nodded and allowed herself to be guided back, his fingers remaining clenched in the hair at the back of her head even after she'd pulled away.

In the absence of her mouth, she slid her fist lower along his length to collect some of the spit that now coated the end, jerking him using the newly acquired lubrication in a smooth glide.

Stiles moaned loudly at the slick feeling of her hand working him as she continued. It was only a couple more strokes of her hand before his fingers tightened in her hair and he tensed with a loud moan, warm come shooting out onto the center of her chest.

She watched his face as she worked him through it, her gaze avidly glued to his slack jaw, the way his eyes pinched shut tightly, the dark flush of his orgasm on his cheeks.

She couldn't help the curiosity that had her leaning back in-between his legs after a moment to taste the come-soaked tip. A surprised noise left his mouth as she sucked softly at the head of his cock. His thighs were still trembling against the seat and she pulled her left hand from his grip to run her fingertips gently along his waist in a soothing motion.

When Stiles finally released her hair and nudged her arm weakly a few seconds later, she leaned back to lift her gaze to his face again. She let her hand fall from his dick and watched as he took a shaky breath, looking down at her with red-flushed cheeks before his focus seemed to pause on her chest.

He released a slightly pained noise and she followed his gaze self-consciously, her own eyes locking on the long stripes of come that had already begun to drip down in a shiny trail between the valley of her breasts and down the center of her stomach.

She wiped at the bottom of the mess in a weak attempt to clean herself but only succeeded in getting the fingers of her right hand covered in come as well. She had collected a small amount of the mess onto her fingers and she looked up at Stiles for assistance.

"What should I- Do you have a-"

He simply stared at her in a daze for a moment as she spoke, his jaw slack, before he blinked and jumped into action, leaning around her to dig through the glove box and returning seconds later with a couple of napkins.

He immediately pulled her up by her forearms and she straddled his lap, settling over his thighs easily. Stiles spread a hand over her thigh and used the other to wipe gently at the long stripes of his release, starting at her belly button and following the trail up to her chest. His fingers slowed as he wiped her cleavage clean, his touch more deliberate as he brought the napkin over the softness of her breasts and beneath the band of her bra.

She found her heart fluttering in her chest at the gentleness of his touch, her eyes glued to his face as he focused intently his task. He continued to clean her with a shaking hand and once he was finished, he grabbed the second napkin and took her hand into his own, carefully clearing away the residue from her fingers.

Once he was done, Stiles sat back and took a deep breath before speaking.

"That was-" He finally panted, "I- You-"

An awkward blush colored her cheeks. She couldn't comprehend how it was possible to suddenly feel so unbelievably nervous after having had someone's dick in your mouth for three minutes, but that was precisely where she found herself.

"Was it okay?" She asked seriously, leaning back until her back rested against the dashboard, "Obviously I've never given a blowjob before, so. I know I couldn't, like, take all of it because, well- I mean, you're-"

Her words cut off when his gripped roughly at her biceps and manhandled her in the close quarters of the vehicle. She landed on her butt in the opposite seat with a small huff, the breath whooshing from her lungs as she fell back against the driver's side door.

Stiles was on top of her before she could blink.

"Wha-" Her words were cut off once again, this time by his mouth descending on hers.

"That was.. Amazing. Phenomenal. Easily the single greatest experience of my entire life." Stiles praised against her lips between quick, sloppy kisses before sealing his mouth with hers again.

His tongue broke through the seam of her lips almost immediately and she tilted her head in acceptance, feeling him groan into her mouth. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingertips of one hand digging into his shoulder while the other scratched gently at the short buzzed hair at the base of his neck.

After a minute, he pulled back just enough to take a much needed breath, nose dragging softly against hers as his gaze flicked between her eyes.

"You taste kinda like-" He paused for a fraction of a second, "Like come. A little bit."

She flushed at the comment, "Sorry."

Stiles blinked at her in confusion, rising up onto his arms to put another few inches of distance between their faces, "Are you.. Apologizing for sucking my dick right now?"

"Well I- You said-"

"Oh god. I wasn't complaining." Stiles told her earnestly.

"Oh, okay," She felt relief wash over her, "Good, because I really wanna-" She completed the thought nonverbally by drawing his lips back down to hers roughly.

The kiss was returned with enthusiasm and Stiles leaned over her, holding himself up with his left arm propped up on the back of the seat and his other on the door behind her.

Though she couldn't see it from their close proximity, his naked body on top of her had her brain fuzzy with arousal. Her legs fell open unthinkingly and when Stiles readjusted to settle into the space, his dick pressed intoxicatingly against the skin of her thigh.

Stiles trailed his mouth across her cheek and down under her jaw, her head tipping back against the window easily to give him access to her throat. He took to the invitation quickly and sucked featherlight at the skin below her jawline, moving lower in a line of gentle kisses until he was at her collarbones. He nibbled at the skin, just light enough to not leave any marks. He continued on quickly, lips dragging lower still until his mouth found her breast.

She hummed, hand around the back of his neck tightening, as he mouthed at the softness of her bra-clad chest in a series of open mouthed kisses, tongue poking out through the seam of his lips to brush against her skin. He tugged the thin fabric down to wrap his lips around her nipple in a soft suck and she gasped, spine arching away from where she was pressed back the door.

At her vocal approval, Stiles moved his mouth over to her other breast and repeated the series of motions. Her bra straps were tugged down her shoulders as he kissed and sucked and bit lightly at her chest, his large hands coming up to softly squeeze at whatever flesh his mouth wasn't focused on.

Stiles leaned back after a few minutes and she took a shaky breath, lifting her head from the window to look down at him, stunned by the pause in his barrage of kisses.

"Can I- Is it okay if I return the favor?" He asked quietly, tongue darting out to lick at his already spit soaked lips.

"Uh-huh, yeah. Yes." She nodded quickly.

She watched him slide further down the seat between her knees, her heart stuttering nervously in her chest as her arms fell away from his neck.

Hands trailed down her sides and his lips pressed softly into the small, three week old slice of pink scar tissue over her abdomen seemingly without thought. As he leaned back, his fingers tucked into the waistband on either side of her hips and tugged her underwear away, tossing them to the dashboard beside the abandoned bouquet of flowers before he continued lower.

She was taken by a sudden flash of a memory. Just a quick burst in her head to the distant memory of Stiles between her thighs that she'd dreamt up over two months ago. With a blink, the image was in front of her, clearer than ever as he settled down between her legs with an anxious wide-eyed look on his face.

At the sight of his nerves, she was about to reassure him that it was okay, that he didn't need to return that favor, but just as soon as she opened her mouth to say the words, Stiles dropped down to lick at her experimentally and her head lolled back against the metal frame of the Jeep's door with a loud thump.

Her legs fell open further and he took the invitation in kind, moving the warm wetness of his tongue softly over her newly-exposed clit. She gasped out a high pitched noise at the warm caress over the sensitive nerves and he immediately licked over the same spot again in a slower, more sure motion.

"Holy shit, Stiles-" She moaned quietly, gasping when he continued to move his tongue softly over the sensitive bud, "This- This is so much better-" She had to break off to suck in a shaky breath as her thighs jerked around his shoulders, "S'much better than it is in my dream-"

The motion of his tongue stopped as he pulled back and she whined in protest at the loss of contact.

"'M sorry, can we back up-"

"No," She objected quickly, "No, no. We cannot back up-" Her head lifted from the window frame and she looked down at him in wide-eyed distress, "I-I don't remember taking your dick out of my mouth to.. To talk-"

"You have dreams about being eaten out?" Stiles asked quickly in interest, ignoring her protests, "Because that is.. That is so hot. You-You have sex dreams where just, like- Someone's tongue-"

"You're tongue, Stiles." She corrected in a huff, "I've had numerous, painfully repetitive dreams about your tongue so please, I am actually begging you-"

He ducked back down in a surprisingly fast motion, but instead of focusing on her clit, he gripped her thighs and spread her legs further, delving lower this time, his tongue licking into her in an agonizingly gentle motion. A choked off whine sounded in her throat and he repeated the movement, pushing further until the muscle actually poked past her entrance.

She scrambled to reach down, desperate for some sort of tether to him, and gripped tightly at the muscles of his upper back. He shimmied his right shoulder further beneath her left knee and she spread her thighs for him that much more, calf draped over his bicep just as his tongue began to lick deeper inside of her with purpose.

"Oh, god-" She gasped, throwing her head back against the window with another painful thump as she scraped her fingertips lightly over his shoulders and neck.

Stiles wrapped his arms around the backs of her thighs and dug his fingers into her flesh, gripping tightly as he worked his tongue in and out. He alternated between pushing in as deep as he could reach and then licking shallowly at her entrance before delving back in again.

He fucked her with his tongue for several long minutes, maybe ten, maybe thirty, it was hard to tell when her brain was so hazy with arousal. Her throat felt dry from the heavy, slack-jawed breaths she'd been pulling in between soft moans of pleasure as he worked his tongue inside of her.

"Stiles," She called out in a breathless whisper feeling truly desperate, "C'you, fingers-? Please?" She begged inarticulately.

The warmth of his mouth pulled away and two of his fingers immediately pressed against her entrance, pushing inside in a gentle motion that had her moaning loudly. The thick firmness of his fingers after the softness of his tongue was incredible. He curled his fingers up immediately to massage at the sensitive spot she'd instructed him toward before and another high gasp left her mouth at the feeling.

As soon as his fingers settled into a rhythm, he lowered his head to lick at her clit again. The combination of his mouth and his fingers had an embarrassing stream of moans rushing past her lips. Her own fingers scraped against his shoulders as she scrambled for some control under the all-encompassing pleasure.

"God-" She moaned softly, voice cracking as his lips closed around her clit entirely, sucking lightly before he continued to roll his tongue over the bundle of nerves, "Stiles-"

Her hips were starting to grind up against him unconsciously as she neared her peak, his name slipping past her lips in a constant stream of quiet, high-pitched pleas.

"Sti, 'm.. Stiles-"

He straightened his fingers out inside of her without prompt and began to thrust them in and out experimentally. She finally managed to pull in a deep albeit shaky breath with the change of pace, but the reprieve was short lived as Stiles studied her reaction and immediately changed tactics, attentively and earnestly trying to learn what made her tick, moan, writhe.

The air she'd only just pulled in was knocked back from her lungs when his fingers curled again but continued the hard in and out movement of his fingers. His hooked fingertips caught against the bundle of nerves behind her pelvis with each thrust and on each slightly rough press of the pads of his fingers against the sensitive spot, she was dragged down just slightly toward him, her ass sliding along the worn leather of the seat and incidentally pressing his tongue more firmly against her clit.

His name spilled past her lips in weak gasps as her fingers dug into his shoulders, shaking thighs straining against the grip of his free hand, and suddenly her whole body was tightening with her release.

The only thing she was aware of was the slow waves of warm white fog in her brain through panted breaths as he continued to wring her climax out of her with his fingers and mouth.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before her vision settled back into a semi-clear image as she looked up at the roof of the Jeep above her. Thighs trembling, she smacked her lips quietly at the dryness in her mouth from her moans, reaching down to unseeingly swat at Stiles where he was still tonguing at her gently with unmoving fingers.

He pulled back in response to the soft slap of her hands against his shoulders and face. Instead of immediately crawling back up her body like she'd anticipated, Stiles moved in a slow trail back up toward her. Soft kisses were pressed along the inside of her thigh, and then her stomach, trailing up along her ribs, her chest, the valley between her breasts. He tugged her bra straps back up over her shoulders as his lips dragged up slowly across her sternum and collar bones. He pressed a gentle line of kisses into the curve of her neck. There was just one soft press of his mouth against her jawbone before finally he paused, lips stopping to hover just above hers.

Her heart was still pounding loudly in her ears from her orgasm, brain feeling pleasantly mushy from a culmination of both her climax and the gentleness of his kisses as he'd moved up along her body. She found herself looking between his deep brown eyes for a slow moment, her gaze drifting across the long line of his eyebrows and his sharp cheekbones before settling on his swollen lips.

"God." She said softly, reaching up to drag his mouth down against hers desperately.

Her fingertips rubbed softly through the smooth, close-cropped hair at the back of his head and her tongue broke through the seam of his lips with a sense of urgency. She finally understood what he'd been talking about before when she absently realized that she could taste herself on his mouth.

"That was amazing." She murmured against his lips when she finally pulled back just a fraction, "Phenomenal, even. Quite possibly the greatest experience of my life." She returned his earlier sentiment.

He grinned and pecked her lips as he blindly reached out to feel around for his boxers. He located them on the floor and pulled back to tug them on before snatching her panties from the dashboard, turning to hand them to her with an unbearably soft look.

She thanked him quietly and pulled them on before leaning into the backseat to snatch his discarded flannel and tug it onto her own body, clumsily doing up a couple of the buttons. When she settled back in the front with her jeans in hand, Stiles had already managed to get his pants on and was just finishing pulling his shirt down over his chest.

She quickly finished getting re-dressed and spotted the abandoned package of gummy worms on the floor beside the gear shift. Grabbing the bag, she dug around in search of one of the red and blue candies. Upon locating one, she held it out in front of Stiles' face wordlessly and grinned when he automatically opened his mouth to accept the offering.

"Hey, um. I kind of wanted to ask you something." Stiles said after a moment as he swallowed the candy, voice quiet.

She frowned, pulling her legs up onto the seat underneath her and turning to face him, "Yeah, of course. What is it?"

She watched his long fingers rub along the steering wheel while he took a nervous breath.

"I just- I wanted to ask if you'd be my girlfriend?" His eyes didn't flick up to look at her until the question hung between them.

"I kinda thought I already was." She admitted, smiling admiringly at the boy in front of her.

"Oh," Stiles gaped, "Okay! Cool. Sweet."

"But, just to be very clear.. Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend, Stiles." She leaned across the car to kiss the sour sugar from his lips before slipping underneath his arm, settling into his side and picking out a candy for herself, "Did you do all of this because you were planning on asking me to be your girlfriend?" She asked, gesturing around them with her gummy worm.

"Yeah," He admitted sheepishly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck and tightening his other arm around her shoulders, "I was supposed to get your attention with the pebbles and then ask as soon as you opened your window. And- and then I told myself I'd definitely do it by the time you were finished with your milkshake. And then I swore that I'd ask when we got to the lookout-"

"It doesn't matter how many times you didn't ask me, it just matters that you did," She told him gently, "And I said yes, and now we're boyfriend and girlfriend and we're both, y'know, aware of it."

"Yeah," He agreed, reaching into the package in her hands to pull out another couple pieces of candy for himself, "Yeah, you're absolutely right."

Amber chewed happily on a gummy worm and tipped her head back against the leather seats to stare at her boyfriend.

"Thank you." She told him after a quiet moment.

"For what?" He asked in confusion through a mouthful of candy.

"For being sweet, and adorable, and romantic, and stupidly perfect despite everything that's going on." She explained.

He blinked and shrugged in an attempt to hide the blush that colored his cheeks in response to her words.

"Anytime, babe." He choked out after a moment as he swallowed the candy in his mouth, a pleased smile pulling at his lips.

The next morning, Amber skipped up to Lydia's locker with a wide grin, feeling on top of the world. She leaned against the locker beside her friend and gave the strawberry blonde a dopey smile as she watched Lydia pull books from her bag and tuck them away.

Lydia's eyes shifted to Amber and she merely blinked at her once in silent irritation before looking back into her locker.

"I have so much to tell you-" Amber said in a daze, pulling at her backpack straps and dropping her head against the locker she was bracing herself on.

"Do you?" Lydia questioned indifferently, "That sounds like something friends do. I wasn't sure if we still were friends considering you haven't texted me back in two days-"

"Oh. Yeah, I think I dropped my phone at the lacrosse game and I haven't been able to find it." Amber explained apologetically, "I'm gonna ask Coach if he's seen it later on, but that is so not what I wanna talk to you about right now."

Lydia seemed to accept her excuse and finally turned to give her friend her full attention, "Fine, what's up?"

She sighed gratefully, "So, Stiles picked me up last night, right? Totally out of the blue. And he was being so romantic and sweet.. We drove out to the lookout and-"

Lydia's locker slammed shut and Amber flinched in surprise.

"Are you telling me that you punched your v-card last night?" Lydia asked in excitement.

"No!" She denied immediately, "No.. I mean, I thought maybe we might but he said we didn't have to and, honestly, I was kinda relieved because I'm not sure if I'm ready t-"

"Well if you didn't have mind-blowing car sex then why on earth do you have that stupidly sexed-up look on your face?" Lydia questioned, smacking her fingertips against Amber's forehead playfully to emphasize her words.

"Oral." Amber said simply as a dopey smile pulled at her lips again.

"Giving or receiving?" Lydia followed up quickly.

"Both," Amber sighed happily, "And it was.. So good. Like, so good. I swear to god his mouth is-"

"Did you ask him to do it?" Lydia questioned curiously.

She shook her head, "No, he offered."

"Huh," Lydia's eyebrows raised as if she were slightly impressed before shaking her head, "How was his you-know-what? Was it average? Small? Uncut?" She asked the last one with a wince and Amber laughed.

"Nope."

"No to what?" Lydia frowned.

"No to all of them." Amber grinned when Lydia's face morphed into surprise, "Seriously. I- I never thought I would think a dick is pretty, but good god, Lyds-"

"It wasn't small or average?" Lydia asked in confusion.

"I know I'm not exactly an expert on the matter but.. No."

Lydia shook her head in disbelief, "So, Stilinski is packing.. And he goes down willingly? Who would've thought."

The first bell signaling only five minutes until classes started rang out in the hall with a loud trill as Amber nodded at her friend.

"He's perfect." She sighed contentedly.

Lydia rolled her eyes and patted the brunette on her shoulder as she moved past her, "Congrats, hon."

The redhead left to get to first period and Amber pushed off of the lockers to make her way to her own class.

As she walked into the English classroom, she slid into her usual empty desk. She pulled her class-issued paperback and her notebook out of her bag and dug around in search of a writing utensil. Finally managing to locate one at the bottom of her bag, Amber pulled it out in a quick movement and it slipped from her fingers to roll down the row between desks before stopping just beyond the desk in front of her.

The boot-clad foot of the boy sitting ahead of her in the next row kicked out and rolled the pencil closer before he bent over to pick it up and turned around in his seat.

"Isaac!" Amber exclaimed in surprise, looking around the classroom in slow confusion, "Wait, you- You're back in school? And, like, no longer in hiding?"

Isaac handed over her pencil, "Jackson decided to recant his statement to the police."

"Did he now?" Amber asked curiously, "That seems uncharacteristically helpful of him. How come?"

Isaac shrugged noncommittally in response.

"Okay, well, cool." Amber told him, "Congrats, I guess. Welcome back to the joys of high school."

"Thanks." Isaac smirked before turning back around in his seat.

It was only another minute before Scott dropped into the seat across the aisle from her. The boy sat down, pulling out his books and spreading them across his desktop before looking up. His gaze focused on Amber for only a second before his attention seemed to snap over to where Isaac was sitting in front of him, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"What's he doing here?" Scott hissed at her across the aisle, his voice loud enough that it was borderline amusing, a harsh whisper that Isaac had to have been able to hear clearly from just a foot away.

She sat up in her seat, eager to fill her friend in, "Oh! So apparently-"

Stiles suddenly stumbled into the English classroom in a mess of flailing limbs. He dropped into the empty seat behind Amber and she peeked back at him with a frown, regarding her boyfriend's haste with curiosity.

"I just talked to my dad, who just talked to Jackson, and I've got really terrible, horrible, very, very bad news-" Stiles whispered frantically.

"I think we already know." Scott mumbled in response, nodding toward the seat in front of him.

The girl's brows furrowed as she too looked at the side of Isaac's head, unable to piece together whatever problem the other two were seeing with the innocent werewolf being back at school. She turned toward her friends again as Stiles leaned back into his seat with a nervous look.

"What-" She started, only to be cut off by Mr. Anderson's booming voice from the front of the room as he began his lecture, "Nevermind."

As soon as class was dismissed by the bell, Amber shot up from her seat to approach Scott and Stiles as the three of them rushed from the classroom and spilled out into the hallway.

Stiles adjusted his backpack strap on his shoulder and took Amber's own bag from her hands before she could pull it on herself. He tugged the strap over that of his own bookbag on his shoulder and dropped his free arm to curl around the back of her neck.

Her mouth dropped open to comment on his endearing display of chivalry but he spoke before she got the chance, his own gaze locked on Scott.

"Alright," Stiles started slowly, "So I only found one thing online called a Kanima. It's a werejaguar from South America that goes after murderers."

"That thing running around is not a jaguar." Amber stated obviously, slipping her hand around Stiles' waist as they walked.

"Yeah, obviously. And you and I aren't exactly murderers." Stiles emphasized.

Scott frowned in thought, "Yeah, but you guys did see it kill somebody.. Which is probably why it tried to kill you," He added quickly before continuing, "And it's still trying to kill you.. And it probably won't stop until you're both dead-"

Stiles pulled Amber to a stop and they both glared at the back of Scott's head. Scott continued a few steps down the hallway distractedly before he noticed their absence beside him. He turned around to face them and Stiles' glare only intensified.

Stiles dropped his arm from her shoulder with a huff to gesture with his hands wildly as he spoke, "Y'know, sometimes I really begin to question our 'friendship'."

"Come on," Amber shook her head and moved behind Stiles to grab his hips, urging him forward with her own body glued to his back. She pushed until they'd caught up to Scott again and then released her boyfriend to pinch the soft flesh of Scott's hip between her fingers as she stepped beside him, "You need to work on that brain-to-mouth filter of yours."

Scott frowned and reached up to rub at his side, "Ow."

"Oh, did that hurt the big bad werewolf?" Stiles scoffed, "You poor thing."

They moved through the hallways and headed to Economics where Amber threw her things down into the empty desk behind Stiles as Scott dropped into the chair beside him.

The girl pulled out her notes and a pencil, beginning to flip through her textbook to get ready for the start of class. Her left arm draped across her desk so that her fingertips could toy idly with the collar at the back of Stiles' shirt as she skimmed over the section she'd read the previous evening. There was a loud slam as Jackson dropped down into the desk beside her, smacking his books onto the tabletop and forcing her gaze to cut over to him in surprise.

"Hey. Taint and testicles left and right." Jackson hissed quietly, looking between the three of them. Stiles and Scott both snapped their heads up but refused to turn around and Amber rolled her eyes at the boy beside her just before he spoke again, "What the hell is a kanima?"

Amber's eyes widened in surprise and her friends both turned around in their seats in a flash. Before any of them could speak, Coach Finstock slapped a folder down onto the mess on his desk with a loud smack to garner everybody's attention.

"Alright everyone! Listen up. A quick warning before we begin our review," The teacher said loudly, "Some of you, like McCall, might want to start their own study groups.. Because tomorrow's mid-term is so profoundly difficult.. I-I'm not even sure I could pass it."

Amber let out a breath of despair in time with her classmate's groans and wordlessly held her notebook out across the aisle. Scott reached out automatically to accept it and flipped it open it over the top of his textbook so that he could copy some of her notes down for himself.

"Okay! I need a volunteer to come up to the board and answer the first question!" Coach demanded, grabbing a piece of chalk and looking out at the class expectantly. "Who's got it? Huh?"

Finstock called on a boy from the opposite side of the room and Jackson pitched forward in his seat again at the moment of distraction, "I just heard Derek's little pets talking in the hallway. Something about a kanima and Lydia and-"

"What exactly were they saying?" Amber was quick to ask.

"Look. Could someone just tell me why the hell Derek and his band of freaks kidnapped and tested me last night? Why they thought I was this thing called a kanima? Huh?" Jackson demanded as he looked between the three of them.

"What? Why would he think it's you?" She asked in confusion.

"He spouted some crap about a snake not being poisoned by its own venom and forced this absolutely vile slime into my mouth and I was paralyzed." Jackson recounted in a hiss, "Paralyzed. From the neck down. Do you have any idea what that feels like?" He snapped rhetorically.

"Uh, yeah, kinda." She muttered bitterly, tapping her pencil eraser against the top of her desk restlessly.

Stiles turned in his seat and instinctively wrapped his hand around Amber's fidgeting one as he glared at Jackson, "We're familiar with the sensation."

"Wait, back up-" Scott turned in confusion, "Seriously, why would Derek test you? Why would he think that it's you?"

"How should I know?" Jackson shot back.

"Wait, wait, wait," Amber whispered frantically, leaning out further into the aisle to hiss another question at Jackson, "Do they think it's Lydia?"

He shrugged with indifference, "I don't know. All I heard was her name and something about Chemistry-"

"Jackson! Callisto!" Coach yelled suddenly. All four teens flinched and Stiles and Scott spin back around in their seats again to face the front of the room as their teacher continued, "Do either of you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

"Um.." Jackson said slowly, drawing out the word as his eyes met Amber's across the aisle.

"We were just.. Discussing our, um, undying admiration for our favorite teacher and coach.." She said slowly, heart still pounding with adrenaline at being called out.

"That's really kind of you," Coach smiled, insincerity bleeding out from beneath his expression as he looked between them, "Now shut up! Shut it!" He yelled before turning back to the rest of the class in search of another volunteer to answer a review question up at the board.

The moment their teacher turned around, Scott reached over to grab ahold of Stiles' sweatshirt and Amber's wrist, yanking them both toward him with a little too much force. Amber's ribs smacked down against her desk painfully as she pitched forward while Stiles nearly fell out of his seat and into the aisle.

"How do we know it's not Lydia?" Scott whispered quietly, oblivious to the matching winces from his best friends in response to his display of strength.

"Because. We've looked into the eyes of that thing, okay? And what we saw was pure evil." Stiles explained, turning to look at Amber's frowning face for a second before continuing, "And, y'know, when I look into Lydia's eyes, I only see like 50% evil."

Amber slapped him on the back of his head aggressively and he flinched, turning to shoot her an irritated look before returning his attention to Scott.

"Honestly, maybe 60%," He amended in retaliation, easily catching Amber's wrist when she reached out to smack him again. Stiles sighed and refused to release her arm as he continued, "But, y'know, no more than 40 on a good day." He added reassuringly in a weak attempt to appease the girl behind him.

"Stiles!" Amber hissed, entirely unpacified as she kicked a foot out to thump against the bottom of his chair.

"Yeah.. Dude, that's not a very good argument." Scott pointed out quietly.

"I swear it's not her," Amber cut in, "It- It can't be, alright? Lydia's.. Lydia's fine." She said weakly, her mind spiraling with the long list of issues regarding her friend's current mental state.

The words hung in the air for not twenty seconds before the redhead in question let out a soft cry from the front of the room where she had been answering a question on the blackboard. Amber looked up to find Lydia no longer facing the board, though she still held chalk in a tight grasp between her fingers as tears ran down her face.

Amber's heart dropped. "Lyds?" She called out softly, dropping her pencil down on her desk.

"Lydia?" Coach Finstock questioned in confusion as he moved toward the board, "Lydia?" He said again — louder this time.

Lydia merely whimpered, eyes still pinched shut. Another stream of tears trailed down her cheeks, pulling mascara from her lashes as they fell and leaving tiny black smudges along her face in their wake.

Amber pushed out of her seat and Stiles finally dropped his hold on her wrist as she hurried down the row toward the front of the room.

"Lydia?" She stepped in front of her friend to block her off from as many of their classmates' curious stares as she could before calling out again more firmly, "Lydia!"

Lydia's eyes snapped open and they cut sharply around her in surprise and confusion.

"Okay, then.." Coach said loudly, turning back toward the class, "Anyone else want to try answering? This time in English?" He joked.

Lydia spun around in a flash and she and Amber both blinked in confusion at what the redhead had written on the board in her daze. It was English. But the letters had all been written backwards, the words mirrored and jumbled together curiously.

SOMEONEHELPME

Amber was spiraling.

Her heart had felt on the verge of beating out of her chest for the last hour and a half and she was beginning to genuinely worry about what kind of an effect the stress might have on her body long term.

"God, what if it is Lydia?" She whined, "It's not, right? I- I don't- And Derek won't actually kill her, will he? He wouldn't, right? I mean, he couldn't have meant that-"

Stiles had his fingers locked tightly with hers and Scott dropped a hand over the back of her neck to give her a reassuring squeeze as they stepped into the classroom for their weekly Chemistry Lab.

"Derek's not gonna kill her without proof." Scott attempted to reassure her.

"Alright. So, then, he tests her like he did with Jackson, right?" Stiles reasoned.

"But where?" Amber questioned, "When?"

Scott sighed as he looked around the classroom in search of empty seats, his eyes widening as Erica and Isaac stepped through the door at the opposite end of the room.

"I think here and now." He realized suddenly.

Their gazes all flicked over to the empty lab chair beside Lydia in a panic.

Isaac and Erica began to determinedly make their way down the row between tables and the three friends jumped into action. Amber sprinted to claim the seat beside Lydia, Scott sat at the table just behind them, and Stiles simply pulled an extra chair from the side of the room to settle in at the corner on Lydia's other side, even though the table was only meant to seat two.

Amber sighed in relief and gave Lydia a weak smile when the other girl looked between her and Stiles in confusion. Stiles grinned awkwardly at the redhead in greeting and she returned her gaze to Amber with a slow blink to convey her annoyance.

As the room filled, Mr. Harris stood from his desk to address the class, "Einstein once said, 'Two things are infinite: The universe and human stupidity.'" He recited, "And I'm not sure about the universe, but I, myself have encountered.. Infinite stupidity."

As if emphasizing his words, the teacher dropped a hand heavily onto Stiles' shoulder as he stepped up to their table. Mr. Harris thumped his hand against the boy's back with enough force that Stiles' body rocked forward with each pat as his face pinched in irritation.

"So," Mr. Harris continued, "To combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one." His gaze dropped to Stiles again with a frown of distaste and Amber's jaw clenched in anticipation, "Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one."

Amber huffed in annoyance. When she caught Stiles' eye, she quickly pulled her face into what she hoped was a bright smile while he grimaced at their teacher singling him out yet again.

"Erica," Mr. Harris called, "You'll take the first station with-"

Hands around the classroom shot up eagerly, mostly boys but a couple of girls as well, all hoping to be partnered with the blonde.

"I didn't ask for volunteers. Put your hormonal little hands down." Mr. Harris snapped, shifting his eyes over the room, "Erica, you'll start with McCall."

He paired off the rest of the class for the start of the experiment. Half of the class would move stations and switch partners between reactions, starting the first half of the experiment before finishing the second half of someone else's.

Amber found herself partnered with Isaac for the first round, able to work with Stiles for the final half. She'd normally be relieved, were it not for the fact that when Isaac left her, he was set join Lydia, of all people.

Isaac dropped into the seat beside Amber with a wink, shooting Stiles a smug grin when he noticed the boy hesitating before leaving his girlfriend's station.

"Stiles, it's fine." Amber reassured him softly.

His face pinched in frustration but he gathered his backpack into his arms, intentionally bumping Isaac's shoulder as he passed by with a parting glare.

"A little clingy, isn't he?" Isaac observed, unscrewing the cap from the solution they needed to start measuring to begin the experiment.

"You think so?" Amber questioned, "I think his protectiveness is pretty justified, all things considered." She narrowed her eyes at her current lab partner in consideration for a moment, "Didn't you used to be nice? What happened to that guy?"

She used a small scoop to measure out the sucrose they would eventually need to add the liquid currently coming to a boil over their flame.

"That guy was a loser." Isaac muttered, voice so quiet that Amber almost didn't catch it.

"Says who?" She countered, continuing to scoop the granules from one container to the other.

"Lydia said so," Isaac shrugged, watching her work, "What, you don't remember? You were right there. Always a loyal friend, even when it's to a cold-hearted bitch."

"Hey!" She snapped sharply, spilling some of her next scoop over the tabletop.

"It was the first day of Freshman year," He continued at if she hadn't spoken, "I asked her out."

"I definitely don't remember this." She told him.

"She laughed at me," Isaac recounted, "Said she didn't date losers and I should come back when the bike I rode to school had an engine, not a chain."

"Okay, so that wasn't very nice of her," She agreed, "But that doesn't make her a bad person, alright? I mean, you're still upset about this? It was like a year and a half ago, Lahey. We've all changed and grown-"

"Some of us more than others." He interrupted with a smug grin, cutting the flame so that she could start pouring the sucrose into the beaker.

"If you're really so heartbroken and you want to do something about it, take a creative writing class or something. Channel all that anger and negative energy into something that might actually be useful." Amber muttered.

She poured out the granules slowly and watched them dissolve as Isaac swirled the liquid around with a stirrer.

"Nah," He shot down the idea casually, "I'm not very good at writing. I was thinking I'd just channel it into killing her-"

His words caused her to flinch, the glass container she was pouring the sucrose from slipping from her hand and shattering against the tabletop with a loud crash as Mr. Harris rang the tiny bell on his desk in signal for them to change of stations.

"Switch." The teacher called out.

Mr. Harris stood from his desk to grab a small dustpan from the side of the filing cabinet and dropped it gingerly over the pile of glass at Amber's station. She wordlessly began to sweep the mess away, watching with wide eyes as Isaac stood and began to move over to Lydia's table.

Stiles bumped his shoulder against Isaac's again and the werewolf looked down at the human in amusement as Stiles' face tightened in anger.

"Mr. Stilinski," Their teacher's voice snapped, "If you're trying to test my patience, I guarantee it'll lead to a failing grade."

Stiles made a small noise of frustration but dropped into the abandoned seat beside Amber wordlessly. He took the dustpan from her hands and dumped it into the trash before leaning close.

"What happened? You okay?" He asked quickly, "Because I swear to god if he did something, I'll turn his little werewolf ass into a fur coat and I'll give it to you for your birthday."

She raised her eyebrows, "My birthday is in August."

"You can wear it in the fall." Stiles countered quickly, "I'm serious. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just-" She nodded her head to where Isaac was working with Lydia and Stiles followed her gaze with a frown.

The pair distractedly finished the second half of the experiment, fumbling to mix things together while attempting to keep an eye on the station beside them where Isaac seemed to be working dutifully with Lydia.

Mr. Harris finally rang the tiny bell at the front of the room again and everyone looked up in response to the sudden sound.

"Time," The teacher announced, "If you've catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should be looking at a crystal."

Stiles and Amber both let their gaze drop to the yellow mush at the bottom of their beaker with a wince.

"Now for the part of the experiment you'll enjoy," Mr. Harris told the class, "You can eat it."

Stiles held the beaker out toward Amber as if daring her to try their failed concoction of ingredients and she pulled a face of disgust as she pushed his hand away with a gag. When her eyes drifted to the front of the room, Mr. Harris had his eyebrows raised judgmentally, his gaze locked on the beaker that Stiles was setting down on the tabletop.

"Lydia!" Scott shouted in sudden alarm, gaining everyone's attention.

Amber flinched and sat up in her seat, looking over at Lydia worriedly, but the other girl seemed to be fine. Lydia was giving Scott a look of annoyed confusion, a perfectly concocted crystal held between her parted lips.

"What?" Lydia asked in irritation.

"Nothing." Scott slowly righted his chair from where he'd kicked it out in his haste a moment before.

Amber looked over at her best friend in confusion and he tilted his head in Lydia's direction pointedly, mouth silently moving as he tried to tell her what was going on, 'Kanima.'

Her eyes snapped back to Lydia and Amber only now spotted the familiar shiny substance coating the crystal in the girl's mouth. Lydia's tongue caught on the kanima venom as she moved to take another bite from her experiment and all of the supernaturally aware teens in the room watched on in alarm.

Lydia's teeth crunched down on the crystal and Amber found herself flinching in response to the quiet sound, heart pounding in her chest. A few slow seconds passed but nothing happened to the redhead.

It seemed the venom didn't affect her.

"Derek's waiting outside for Lydia." Scott told Allison, Amber, and Stiles as they hid away in Coach Finstock's office around lunchtime.

"Waiting to kill her?" Allison questioned.

The knots in Amber's stomach tied themselves that much tighter and she looked to Scott with wide eyes.

"If he thinks she's the Kanima, then yes." He told them, "Especially after what happened at the pool."

"But it's not her. I mean, it- it can't be!" Amber told them resolutely.

"She didn't pass the test, Amber. Nothing happened." Scott reminded her.

"But she left!" She assured them, "That night at the pool, she left before I even went inside and she wouldn't have come back-"

"You can't really know that for sure, though. Can you?" Stiles asked gently.

"It doesn't matter," Allison interrupted slowly, leaning back to sit over the edge of Coach's desk, "Because Derek thinks it's her. So.. Either we convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her."

Amber found herself nodding wildly in agreement.

"Well I don't think he's gonna do anything here," Scott said quickly, "Not at school."

"Okay, but what about after school?" Amber questioned worriedly.

Allison threw her head back in distress before looking back at them slowly, "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?"

"By three o'clock?" Stiles questioned incredulously.

"Th- There could be something in the bestiary-" Allison started.

"The nine hundred page digital book that's apparently written in Archaic Latin?" Amber clarified in barely concealed irritation, "The one that none of us can read? That bestiary?"

"Yeah, good luck with that." Stiles added with a shake of his head.

Allison didn't seem to be affected by their negativity, her gaze drawn to Scott as she seemed to get an idea, "Actually, I think I know someone who might be able to translate it."

Amber let out a breath, "Okay.. So Allison gets the translation and uh, I can.. I'll go out and talk to Derek. Maybe if I-"

"No." Scott disagreed quickly. Amber's eyebrows pulled together at his immediate dismissal but he shook his head at her firmly, "No, you stay away from him for now, alright? I mean it-" Amber frowned and Scott gave her a serious look, "I'll talk to Derek. See if I can get him to give us a chance to prove that it's not her. But you guys.. Look, if anything happens, you guys let me handle it, okay?"

"What does that even mean?" Amber stepped closer to Scott in confusion.

"It means that you guys can't heal like I do." He said, eyes drifting over all three of them slowly, "I just- I don't want you getting hurt." His gaze paused on Allison at the tail end of his statement, a worried look on his face.

Allison pushed off from the desk quickly, turning to rifle through her shoulder bag for a moment and Amber lifted up onto her tiptoes to see what the other girl was doing with interest. When Allison turned to face them again, she was holding a tiny, handheld crossbow, arrow already sheathed and ready to be fired.

"I can protect myself." Allison told Scott with narrowed eyes.

"Is that, like, a pocket-sized crossbow?" Amber asked curiously, catching sight of Stiles as he also eyed the device with clear interest.

"Wh- Did something else happen?" Allison asked Scott softly after a moment passed without response, setting her weapon on top of Coach's desk to take a step closer to where he and Amber were standing.

Amber's mind flashed briefly to the image of Scott standing in her bedroom late on Tuesday night. She recalled the small tear at the bottom of his shirt that had been overtaken with a dark bloodstain. When she'd frantically lifted his shirt, it was to find the skin of his abdomen unmarred and already healed. He'd told her how Allison's grandfather had thrust a knife into his gut when he'd gone to pick his mom up from work, the threatening words the old man had spit at him as he twisted the blade to drive his point home.

Amber remembered the way Scott had pleaded with her not to tell Allison what had transpired. How he'd encouraged his friend to be more careful around their new principal, confiding in her the worries he had that even Allison wasn't entirely safe from him.

Looking at Scott now, Amber could make out the terror behind his eyes, the deep-rooted worry he was carrying that something awful might happen and he'd be unable to protect them.

"I just don't want you getting hurt." Scott repeated, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the two girls in front of him, "Seriously, if anything goes wrong, you let me handle it. Okay?" He looked to Allison, his expression pleading, "I- I don't care if your dad finds out. Call, text, scream, yell, whatever. I'll hear you and I'll find you as fast as I can."

Amber swallowed nervously at the sobering weight of his words, watching as Allison nodded at him in silent agreement.

Scott sighed, "We have until three."

He looked between Amber and Allison again with a small nod of his own before turning toward the door of the office and making to leave. Amber followed close behind but only narrowly avoided running into his back when he stopped suddenly and spun around to face her. Scott's hand shot out behind her and she turned around beneath his arm in surprise and confusion. Her eyes widened at the sight of the arrow clutched in his hand, the object snatched just an inch beyond where the back of her head had been only a moment before.

"Ah, Sorry! Sorry-" Stiles rushed out with wide eyes, giving the crossbow in his hands back to Allison quickly, "It's a sensitive trigger on that-" He told them awkwardly.

Amber's heart was thumping loudly in her chest, eyes bouncing between the arrow in Scott's hand and her boyfriend across the room, "Wh- Why were you aiming it at me at all?" She squeaked.

"I wasn't! I wasn't aiming it at you!" Stiles defended. Everyone blinked at him in disbelief and he clarified immediately, "I mean, I was just holding it! And it happened to be pointed.. In- in your general direction.."

"Stiles. You almost shot her, dude." Scott scolded, handing the arrow back to Allison as well.

"I- I am aware of that. Thank you, Scott." Stiles snapped.

Amber huffed quietly, heart stammering beneath the ebbing adrenaline in her veins, "Look, I-I really need to go and talk to Danny before free period ends."

"Wh- Babe, just hold up-" Stiles called out, stepping toward her.

"I'll see you guys later." She told the group quickly before slipping out the door.

"Amber. Hey, c'mon, wait a sec-!"

She didn't wait, already hurrying down the hallway in the hopes of catching Danny working in the library the way he so often did during the free period. When she stepped through the doors, the boy in question was sitting at a table with Jackson and Matt Daehler, the latter standing at the back of Danny's seat as they conversed.

"-hey. We could've done it together." Matt laughed, nudging Danny playfully.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt." Amber cut in, moving to stand at Danny's other side.

"Then why are you?" Jackson asked in clear annoyance.

Danny punched him in the arm, turning toward the girl with a grin, "Not interrupting, what's up?"

"I, uh- I talked to Coach and he said you helped with cleanup after the game on Tuesday?" She started, continuing at Danny's nod, "Okay, good. So, I lost my phone and I was hoping-"

"Oh, hey!" Matt cut in, moving around the table to stand beside her and pulling his bag off of his shoulder to dig through its contents, "Is this yours?" He asked, pulling his arm from the depths of the bag with her cell phone in hand.

"Oh my god!" She squealed excitedly, "Yes!"

She took the phone from his hand quickly and wrapped him into a quick hug in thanks.

"I found it under the bleachers at the end of the game," Matt explained, "But by the time I thought to check it to see whose it was, the thing was dead. And my charger doesn't fit it."

"No, no, don't worry about it-" She told him in a rush, brushing her fingers over the device gratefully, "I'm just glad it's not gone forever. I have so many pictures on here that I haven't gotten around to backing up on my computer-"

"That's a pretty bad habit." Matt grinned playfully.

"God, I know." She agreed, "And one I will never do again. I am.. So relieved, right now. Seriously, thank you so much for finding it."

"No problem," He shrugged, zipping his bag back up, "Sorry I didn't get it back to you sooner."

The bell rang out signaling the end of the period and the group collectively sighed at the knowledge that they needed to get to their next class. They all split off and as Amber walked down the hall, she fingered at the power button on her phone thoughtlessly.

The screen lit up suddenly and her steps faltered in surprise, eyes narrowing as she watched her phone power back up slowly.

Her eyes focussed on the wallpaper displayed on the device as it booted up, gaze scanning the cropped image she'd snapped of one of the photostrips she and Stiles had posed for on their date at the ice rink. The top picture displayed Stiles looking down at her in feigned surprise, their fingers laced together in front of the camera as Amber bit down playfully on his wrist. She was slightly blurry in the bottom picture, head thrown back against Stiles shoulder in hysterics from the tickling of his fingers in her sides while he laughed with a big smile directed straight at the camera. The pictures had a warmth blossoming in her chest despite the stresses that had unfolded throughout the day.

The device finally booted up enough for her to unlock it and her eyes went to the display of the battery life in the corner of the screen. She squinted at it and her eyebrows furrowed further in confusion. It was still at 62%.

"Huh."

Amber's leg was bouncing anxiously and she knew it was starting to irk the girl beside her but she couldn't stop the frantic movement.

"Why exactly can't we start studying yet?" Lydia asked, using all of her willpower to not snap at her friend when Amber began to drum her hand against the tabletop as well.

"We have to wait for everybody else." She explained, eyes still glued to the library doors.

Lydia sighed quietly, "Who exactly are we waiting on?"

Amber's eyes cut over to the redhead for a second before fixing themselves on the doors again, "What d'you, uh.. Y'know, everybody. Allison, Stiles, um-"

The library doors burst open and Amber jumped so hard she nearly fell from her seat as Stiles approached their table with fast steps.

"C'mon, time to go." He urged quickly, pulling his girlfriend up with a hand in hers and ushering both girls toward the side doors.

"Where are we going?" Lydia asked in confusion.

"Study group," Amber supplied brightly, pulling her hand from her boyfriend's to urge Lydia to move faster as they headed into the hallway, "At Scott's house."

Lydia looked the couple beside her over in confusion as they walked abnormally quick steps, "If we're doing study group, why didn't we just stay in the library?" She questioned obviously.

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else." Stiles explained, frowning at Amber as she stepped to Lydia's other side and away from him.

"Hm," Lydia hummed, "Well, why don't they just meet us in the library?"

"Oh, that would've been a great idea!" Stiles acknowledged, "Too late."

Lydia paused, slowing her steps, "Okay, wait-"

Jackson suddenly pushed between Amber and Lydia to pull the redhead forward with a firm hand wrapped around her bicep.

"Lydia, shut up and walk." He snapped quietly, pleasant as ever. His fingers were pried from their place around Lydia's arm as quickly as they'd appeared, Amber squeezing his hand in a shockingly tight grip as they continued to walk.

"Jackson, if you want to keep your hand, then I suggest you don't grab her like that again." She whispered darkly.

Jackson rolled his eyes in response to the threat and ripped his hand away, making a show of gently dropping it onto Lydia's shoulder as he continued to urge her forward.

Stiles stepped up behind Amber and put his own hand on his girlfriend's back, face pressed close to hers as he spoke quietly into her ear, "Hey, so I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am for-"

"Stiles, now's really not the time." She told him in an equally hushed voice.

"I know it's not the best time but-"

"Stiles," She whispered sharply, shooting Lydia a smile when the other girl flicked her gaze over curiously as they rounded a corner, "I know it was an accident, okay? It's fine. It just- It scared me, is all."

"Scared the crap outta me too, if it's any consolation." Stiles muttered under his breath.

She reached to take his opposite hand into hers and gave it a quick squeeze, "It's okay. I'm fine. No harm done, right? I forgive you." She promised in a soft whisper.

They pushed through the main doors of the building and quickly made their way down into the parking lot toward Stiles' Jeep. Lydia's steps faltered when she spotted Allison leaning against the blue vehicle in wait and Amber bumped into her back before pushing her to keep moving.

"Wait, wait- We're riding in that?" Lydia asked with a frown, voice high.

It took a moment longer than it should have for Amber to realize that Lydia's thoughts were focused on what she'd divulged that morning detailing the events that had taken place in the Jeep the night before.

"Yes, Lydia. We're riding in that." She said in exasperation, "It has the most room."

Stiles caught sight of Lydia's pinched face as they stepped up to the vehicle and he blinked in confusion, "The Jeep comfortably rides six, I.. Why're we dissing the Jeep? What's wrong with the Jeep?" His attention focused solely on his girlfriend as he asked the last question.

She pulled open the passenger door and threw the seats forward so that Jackson and Lydia could climb into the back.

"Nothing is wrong with the Jeep. Absolutely nothing. Right, Lydia?" Amber asked pointedly.

"It's fine," Lydia agreed begrudgingly, still pouting as she began climbing into the vehicle, "Even though there is no way this thing has had enough time to properly air out-" She muttered to herself as she crawled into the back seat.

The tires of the Jeep practically squealed when Stiles slammed on the breaks outside of the McCall house. As soon as Allison and Amber were out of the vehicle at the passenger side, the latter threw the back of the seats down again to let Jackson and Lydia climb out onto the sidewalk.

When Lydia moved to close the passenger side door, Amber automatically took over to slam the door firmly, habitually holding it steady with her hand pressed firmly against the left corner for half a second in a practiced move to ensure that the heavy door latched and remained shut.

"If we're studying at Scott's house, then where's Scott?" Lydia asked determinedly, giving Amber a sharp look to convey that she knew something was up.

"Meeting us here," Stiles interjected quickly as he rounded the vehicle, "I think. I hope.."

"He'll be here." Amber assured Lydia before turning to give Stiles a disbelieving look at his lack of composure.

When they stepped inside the house, Stiles didn't waste a second before he was throwing the front door closed and working at the many locks and latches up and down the wooden doorframe. The metal clang of the deadbolt and the tinkling of the door chain as he slid it into the track rang out loudly in the otherwise quiet house.

Lydia was distrustfully eyeing the way Stiles secured the door, but she wasn't the only one focussed on his movements, the whole group watching in disbelief as he frantically locked them inside the house. When he finally spun around to face them, he faltered at the amount of attention focussed on him.

"Uh.. There's been a few break-ins in the area." Stiles supplied after a moment.

His eyes drifted to something behind Amber and he moved around her in a flash to grab the wooden entryway chair and prop the tall back of it firmly beneath the doorknob as an extra precaution.

"And a, um.. A murder." Amber added when Lydia's eyes moved to her in a silent question.

Jackson huffed a quiet snort of annoyance and Allison looked as if she were desperately trying not to laugh, but neither one of them interjected to add anything helpful.

"Yeah, it was bad." Stiles agreed immediately, the backs of his fingers brushing against Amber's with how close he was now standing beside her.

She slipped her palm into his and gave his slightly clammy hand a supportive squeeze while Allison nodded her head at Jackson in a gesture for him to do something.

Jackson sighed, "Lydia, follow me. I need to talk to you for a minute."

Lydia huffed in annoyance but moved to follow him when he turned, "Seriously?" She muttered under her breath, "What is going on with everyone?"

Amber watched them go with a frown, making sure to shoot Jackson a sharp glare in warning that he merely rolled his eyes at as they moved to climb the staircase toward the upstairs bedrooms.

In their absence, Amber turned to drop her forehead against her boyfriend's shoulder with a shaky sigh. She felt his free hand come up to tangle softly into her hair and her heart continued to pound with anxiety despite the soothing scrape of his fingers against her scalp.

"I had Mrs. Morrell look at some pages from the bestiary." Allison told them after a moment.

Amber lifted her head, "Our French teacher slash guidance counselor knows Archaic Latin?" She asked in disbelief.

"Well, not exactly," Allison admitted, "But she knows a lot of languages and Latin is one of them."

"Latin isn't Archaic Latin." Amber pointed out.

"I know," Allison agreed, "But she did manage to translate one thing.. 'The kanima seeks a friend'."

"Seeks a friend?" Stiles repeated incredulously, "It killed two people. Amber and I were there for one of 'em.. It didn't exactly look like it was on a quest for friendship."

"How does this help Lydia?" Amber asked Allison quickly.

The other girl shook her head, "I don't know."

After a drawn out stretch of silence, Amber spoke again in a weak voice, "How long d'you guys think we have before Derek to figures out where we took her?"

"Not long." Allison responded quietly, "How are we supposed to protect her from a whole pack of werewolves without getting killed ourselves?" She asked, finally admitting her concern to the fellow humans.

"I'm not sure about Erica, Isaac, or Boyd.. But I know Derek wouldn't hurt me. I-I'm not afraid of him." Amber told them, turning around again but keeping herself firmly pressed against the warmth of Stiles' body with their fingers tangled together, "He doesn't want to hurt any of us.. But he's scared of Lydia-"

"Scared?" Stiles scoffed, "You think Derek Hale is scared?"

"Yes," Amber frowned, "He is. All he wants is to protect the people he cares about and- And I know he doesn't go about it in the best way but-"

"You can say that again." Stiles muttered.

Amber tightened her hand around his and continued, "He's afraid that the kanima is gonna kill someone he cares about. He's lost so much already, you guys. He's lost everyone." Her voice cracked with emotion and Allison blinked at her in surprise.

"He wants to kill Lydia," Allison reminded her firmly, "Amber.. You can't be on both sides when one is trying to kill the other."

"I'm not on both sides," She disagreed quickly, "I'm just saying I don't think that the three of us are in serious danger from Derek specifically, okay? It's the others we need to be worried about.. I'm not convinced that they have control yet over their emotions or their new wolfy instincts."

"Well, then, I think we might need to start worrying," Stiles announced from where he was peeking out of the curtain covering the window beside the front door, "Because they're here."

Amber cursed quietly as she leaned close to peer out of the window, finding the pack of werewolves crowded onto the sidewalk.

"One of you give me your phone so I can call Scott." Allison demanded quickly.

Amber pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it over easily, her eyes flicking back and forth between Derek and where Allison was bringing the phone up to her ear as it rang out.

"It's me." She said into the phone as soon as Scott picked up, "You need to get here. Right now." She told him quickly before ending the call.

Erica grinned as her eyes bounced between her packmates and where Amber and Stiles still were peeking out underneath the curtain.

"Oh, jeez." Stiles muttered quietly when Erica raised her eyebrows at them smugly, a silent but somehow obvious threat lurking in the purse of her lips.

Amber took a shaky breath and squeezed her boyfriend's hand once again before letting her gaze drift over to Allison. The other girl was fiddling with the phone in her hands, but it was no longer the touchscreen of Amber's phone that she was tapping her fingertips against.

"What are you doing?" Amber asked as Allison flicked through her own cell phone.

"I think.." Allison sighed anxiously and wiped at her sniffling nose with her shirtsleeve, "I think I have to call my dad."

Stiles turned toward her immediately, "But if he finds you here, you and Scott-"

"I know." Allison said quietly. She licked her lips and looked between them and the windows in distress, "But what are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay? They're here to kill Lydia."

"Your dad wanted to kill Lydia too." Amber was quick to remind her.

"Not anymore," Allison defended, "He- I think he'd help-"

"Are you sure about that?" Stiles questioned.

Allison frowned, seeming to seriously mull over the question.

"Jesus. If you honestly have to think about it, then you are not calling him." Amber told her firmly.

Allison sighed but nodded with a murmured agreement before dropping down to dig through her bag. She pulled out the small crossbow that had nearly killed Amber that afternoon and held it in a tight grip.

Stiles had pulled the curtain to the side again and was peering outside once more. When he looked back at the girls beside him, his gaze fell to the weapon in Allison's hands and his eyebrows rose as he frowned in thought.

"I got an idea," He told them suddenly in a hushed whisper, "Just shoot one of 'em."

"Stiles!" Amber hissed, releasing his hand to smack his arm with a look of disbelief.

"Are you serious?" Allison whispered back.

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it," Stiles whispered in quiet determination, looking between them, "Or at least give it a shot, right?"

"Okay." Allison agreed quickly in a barely detectable breath.

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight," Stiles continued quickly, "So if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off. So just shoot one of 'em."

"You guys are serious?" Amber whispered in surprise.

"Which one?" Allison asked Stiles as she squinted out the window, the hand wrapped around the crossbow raising just a hair in anticipation.

"Uh.. Derek," Stiles said quickly, "Yeah, shoot him. Preferably in the head."

Amber punched her boyfriend in the arm with as much force as she could manage and he turned to her with a wide-eyed look of surprise and betrayal that matched her own.

"First of all, we are not doing that," She hissed, "And second, if Scott can catch an arrow flying through the air, then I guarantee that Derek can too."

"Okay," Stiles conceded quickly, raising his hands in submission and turning to Allison, "Uh.. Shoot one of the other three then."

"You mean two." Allison corrected quickly as she looked outside.

"I mean three." Stiles disagreed firmly.

Amber moved to look out the window again and her eyes raked over the group outside frantically, but Allison was right. One of them was missing.

"Where the hell is Isaac?" Stiles asked nervously as he looked out over her shoulder.

There was a sudden scuffle of feet across the wooden floor and Amber spun around to find that the boy in question had ripped the small crossbow from Allison's hands and tossed her roughly onto the floor of the living room.

Isaac growled lowly as he approached, shoving Stiles to the ground with one hand and throwing Amber into the kitchen with his other. Her back smacked painfully against the kitchen island and she fell to her hands and knees with a pained groan.

As she pushed herself up and moved to stand, Allison was already stepping into the kitchen to help her to her feet, supporting Amber with a firm grip on her arms.

"Go make sure Lydia is safe," Amber ordered as she got her feet underneath herself again, "Tell her that someone broke in and she needs to hide or- Or something. Just- Protect her."

"I will." Allison promised before dashing upstairs.

The wooden block on the countertop was one knife short as Amber clutched it in her fist with trembling fingers and moved back toward the main room. Just as she stepped through the doorway, Stiles was shoved into the adjoining wall with a loud thump. Isaac was quick to abandon Stiles as he noticed Amber's approach, turning his attention toward the threat who was wielding a weapon instead.

Stiles fell to his knees the moment he was released and Amber watched him suck in a pained breath as her eyes bounced between him and werewolf stalking toward her.

"C'mon Isaac, don't be a dick, okay?" She pleaded, raising the knife in her hands defensively, "We- We don't have to fight-"

"Not much of a fight, if I'm being honest." Isaac shrugged, ripping the knife from her fingers in an easy move and tossing it over her shoulder into the kitchen behind her.

At the sight of Erica rushing toward the staircase, Amber moved to follow after the blonde on immediate instinct but was yanked back by a hand in her hair. A yelp slipped past her lips at the painful tug, the side of her head bashed against the wood that framed the archway between rooms before she was released. She fell to her knees and gripped at the side of her head with a another groan, mildly relieved when she didn't feel the warm wetness that would indicate she was bleeding.

A loud thump sounded behind her and she heard Stiles release another pained noise. She gripped the table along the wall and pulled herself to her feet unsteadily. Amber turned around and, at the sight of Isaac's hand fisted in the front of her boyfriend's shirt, she rushed forward without a thought.

Isaac was pulling his right hand back to deliver a punch but Amber jumped up onto the taller boy's back and grabbed at his arm before he could make contact.

"Hair pulling, Isaac? Really?" She grunted, tightening the grip of her arms and legs around him further when the boy tried to throw her off of himself, "I'd expect that shit from Erica, but you?"

"'s a bitch move." Stiles agreed weakly, only to be thrown down onto the ground at the other side of the room.

With Stiles temporarily out of the fight, Isaac spun around to slam himself back against the wall in the living room, crushing Amber between the wall and himself. The girl groaned in pain but refused to release her hold, instead tangling her own fingers into the dark blonde curls on Isaac's head and tugging aggressively in retaliation.

Isaac let out a rumbling growl in response and pressed back against her that much more, "I'm trying not to hurt you guys-" He grunted through his fangs as he pushed the air out of Amber's lungs.

"Well you're doing-" She huffed breathlessly, "A terrible job-"

Stiles had crawled his way back across the room and he kicked his foot out suddenly into Isaac's ankles, sending the pair crashing to the ground as the werewolf's feet were knocked out from underneath him.

Another growl sounded out, but this time it hadn't come from the werewolf tangled up between Amber and Stiles. Instead, the threatening sound came from the back of the room where Scott was standing with bright, glowing eyes. In a flash, he was in front of them, slamming his fist into Isaac's face with enough force that the other boy slumped back against the floor unconscious.

"We totally had that," Stiles groaned quietly, "Y'know, just.. For the record-"

"Mhm. Didn't need your help at all," Amber agreed weakly as they climbed to their feet, "Thanks though."

Scott gave them both a weary look as he grabbed Isaac by the back of his jacket and dragged his body over to the front door, where he dropped him unceremoniously before heading upstairs without a word.

In the aftermath of the fight, Amber turned to face her boyfriend worriedly. Her hands moved over his chest and up his neck, fingers skimming softly over his cheeks as she checked him for any sort of visible injury. He brought his own hands to her waist but his grip was light in contrast to her desperate touch, as if he were worried he might cause her pain if he applied too much pressure.

"You.. Are such a badass, y'know that? I cannot believe you just pounced on Isaac like that," Stiles flicked his eyes between her own with a soft look, "But please, don't throw yourself into danger for me ever again.. Literally or figuratively."

"Yeah.. There is no way in hell I'm promising that." She scoffed quietly, rubbing the pad of her thumb lightly across his cheek.

Stiles shook his head, knowing it was useless to fight her on it, "You hurt?" He asked gently.

"I'll be fine." She promised, dragging her fingertips over the back of his head as she unsubtly checked for any bumps he might've received from being thrown around.

Scott and Allison's heavy footsteps began to descend the stairs and Amber pressed her forehead to Stiles' in a quick nudge before pulling away. Scott came into view with Erica thrown over his shoulder and he ripped the front door open before tossing her and Isaac outside and onto the front lawn.

The four teens stepped out onto the porch as Derek looked at his incapacitated Betas with a disappointed huff. There was a moment of silence in which Stiles tangled his fingers with Amber's while she reached out to rest a hand against Scott's back supportively.

Derek pursed his lips and slowly looked between the four of them, "I think I know why you both refused me," He announced as his eyes flicked between Scott and Amber, "You're not an omega, Scott. You're already an Alpha.. Of your own pack. And Amber, you're a part of that pack."

She blinked in surprise and her eyes gravitated toward Scott, who had stiffened beneath her hand at Derek's words.

"I thought you.. But, you said you couldn't be a part of a pack unless you were a werewolf." She questioned in confusion.

"I never said that," Derek disagreed, "I told you I didn't want you to be a part of my pack if you wanted to stay human." He corrected easily.

She felt the heavy weight of her friend's gazes fall to her after the admission, but her eyes remained focussed on Derek, unable to help the small pang of hurt that shot through her at his words.

"You know you can't beat me, Scott." Derek said after a moment, his eyes moving to the younger werewolf.

Scott swallowed and reluctantly pulled his gaze away from his best friend to look at Derek again, "I can hold you off until the cops get here-" He retorted.

No sooner had he spoken when the quiet trilling of sirens rose loud enough to be noticeable even to the humans of the group.

Derek's eyes narrowed, head tilting as he determined the distance of the emergency vehicles. His assessment was cut short at an all too familiar hiss from the roof.

The teens rushed down the porch steps to stand in the grass beside Derek and look up at the house, finding the kanima crawling across the roof. The dark, scaly creature turned its head to look at them, as if feeling the weight of their stares, releasing a threatening shriek in response to the attention.

Amber flinched at the shrill sound and Stiles' grip around her hand tightened as he protectively dragged her a small step backwards.

The creature looked the group over with its slitted yellow eyes for a moment before turning and scurrying away, tail flicking in the air behind it as it scaled the side of the house and disappeared from sight.

Stomping footsteps came from inside the house and they all turned their heads toward the open front door as the footfalls drew closer. Amber readied herself for Jackson to step outside with some sort of typically dick-ish remark, but it wasn't him who rushed out onto the front porch.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on!" Lydia demanded sharply as her eyes flicked around the group in wide-eyed confusion.

"Lydia." Amber breathed in surprise.

"The kanima.. Is Jackson." Scott whispered in sudden realization.

Amber's eyes dropped to the unmoving werewolves laying in the grass that Lydia had somehow not yet noticed and Amber nudged Scott in distress. He turned, following her gaze, eyes bouncing to Lydia and then back down again a few times.

"Um. Why don't I take you home, Lydia-" Allison said suddenly, "Scott, can you give us a ride back to the school to get my car?"

Lydia blinked, "But-"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure." Scott agreed quickly as Allison dragged him to stand in front of where Erica and Isaac were laying.

Amber released Stiles' hand to rush up onto the porch, snatching Lydia's backpack from the entryway inside the house and dragging the redhead down the porch steps quickly and toward the sidewalk.

"Amber-" Lydia huffed in annoyance when her heel caught in a groove in the pavement as she was dragged along.

"C'mon, Lyds. This has been really stressful and scary and we should all just go home and get some rest." She pleaded as they reached Scott's mom's car.

"Shouldn't we wait until the police get here and give them our statements about the break-in?" Lydia asked smartly.

"Stiles and I can handle it," She promised, "Get in."

Lydia frowned and shot her friend a glare before turning and climbing into the back of the car without another word.

Amber leaned down as she readied to close the door, "Text me when you get home safe?" She asked gently.

Lydia rolled her eyes and buckled her seatbelt, refusing to look at her friend as Scott and Allison also climbed into the car.

"Fine," Lydia said with a huff, "Whatever."

Amber accepted the weak promise and finally closed the car door. When she turned back to Stiles with wide eyes, she found that Derek and Boyd had already managed to disappear with Erica and Isaac's unconscious bodies. She was back up the sidewalk in a rush, coming to a stop in front of Stiles and looking around with wide eyes.

"Where the hell did they go?" She asked in disbelief.

"Y'know, it's funny. Derek didn't give me his itinerary for the evening before he left." Stiles shot back easily.

Amber narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend's sarcasm and had opened her mouth to speak when suddenly the sirens approaching them grew louder.

"Right! Time to go." Stiles urged quickly. He guided her down to the Jeep in a rush and sped off down the street in the opposite direction of the sirens before Amber had even managed to buckle her seatbelt.

"Where are we going?" She asked as she fought to remain calm.

"Right now? Nowhere. When we meet up with Scott again? We're gonna go find Jackson." Stiles said, eyes flicking over to her for a moment as he spoke.

"How exactly are we gonna do that?" She questioned.

"Our best friend is a werewolf," Stiles looked at her incredulously, "We're gonna track him down by scent or something and we're gonna get Whittemore's lizard ass."

She sighed, sliding across the seats to sit beside him and tipping her head onto his shoulder, suddenly desperate for the comfort his touch provided. Stiles moved his hand from the gear shift automatically to squeeze tightly over her thigh in reassurance.

"Great," She agreed weakly, "Sounds like a plan."

[goldkirk]

OKAY WAIT i saw your analysis on the loop earplugs!!! i've been needing something like this! i think i'm going to get a pair of Engage plus, and would need them for when i'm out and about. what was the experience like wearing them: -in a public place? (grocery store community park) -listening to music (was it out loud?? were you wearing headphones (that one kinda stumped me lol) ) -in a quiet conversation? -in a loud conversation? when i get these, they're mostly to help me sleep/go out in places where i usually get overstimulated for long periods of time. once again, thanks so much for this! <3

MY FRIEND YOU ARE IN LUCK, just last week I got the Experience ones and some Loop Mutes to use with them (and my Engage ones), so I actually can give some useful info.

If we use a scale where 0 is no sound reduction at all, and 10 is the maximum you can get, I'd say the Engage is a 4/10, the Experience are a 5-6/10, and the Quiet are a 7-9/10 (depending on your environment).

The Engage are definitely better for hearing people in conversation, and definitely reduce the occlusion effect where you hear your voice/chewing/walking loudly somewhat (it's still there plenty, though!). They turn down the sounds around you but still make you feel like you're hearing all the things you need to hear for safety and for conversation.

The Experience are very like the Engage, but it's not as easy to hear conversation. Music sounds significantly better through the Experience compared to the Engage, but I can't put my finger on why. They seem to lower maybe a little more sound than the Engage. I haven't worn them next to something like a busy road yet, so I can't say for sure.

The Quiets are soooooooo nice for sleeping and significant focus, but the occlusion is definitely worse. These don't have any kind of accoustic filter, they're just solid silicone. They're very soft and comfortable. I would not feel safe navigating in public with these most of the time, whereas I would with the Engage or Experience.

The Loop Mute (which the Experience Pro and the Engage Pro both come with) definitely increases the sound lowering when you pop it into the Loops. It takes the sound much closer to the Loop Quiet level than the Engage and Experience normally are, although they're still going to let in sound a bit more than the Quiet. It's really handy to be able to pop in a bit of extra sound reduction--I like using it when I need to focus or when I'm mentally starting the 1-2 hour wind down for the night, but I'm not ready to put the Quiet earplugs in yet and go to bed.

In loud conversation, I found it doable with the Experience, and pretty easy with the Engage. In quiet conversation, the Engage made me a lot more likely to hear the other person clearly, but there were a few moments where I still struggled--not badly though. The Experience make it harder to hear quiet conversation.

Music-wise, things definitely sound cleaner/crisper/clearer through the Experience, but still sound acceptable through the Engage. The Quiets are obviously like listening with earplugs in, so the sounds are muffled and not as clear. I listened to music out loud via a speaker and it was fine, and live today in the city and it was fine, and I put on my over-the-ear headphones and listened, and it comes through fine too, although you have to put the volume up pretty high.

Using them in public--definitely they help a lot. It's not like they muffle the sound around you (the Quiets do, but I mean the Engage and Experience), it's that they just turn it down and somewhat filter it so it's much more in order of importance. When I popped in the Engage earplugs in the grocery store, the overhead music and background clatter went down to very low awareness levels, and the shrillness of a kid's voice several aisles over was still clear but somehow less grating? And I could hear everything I needed to hear but only what was more relevant. When I'm on the sidewalk, I hear the cars and people and other noises, but the overall background NOISE is way reduced. It's much easier to think my thoughts and be in my head with my attention not being pulled around by all the sounds all the time. (It's also helped my PTSD hypervigilance and reactivity too because of that.)

If you're a front or side sleeper, you won't be comfortable in the Engage or Experience ones at night. The Quiet ones that are soft silicone are more comfortable.

Hope this is helpful! If you have more specific questions let me know, I'm happy to answer. :)

EDIT:

Got frustrated trying to find a discount code for more than 3% so I signed up for their Loop Community thing and got a referral link for 15% off if any of you want it. Since it’s a link and not a coupon code it shouldn’t expire.

For transparency purposes: