#v: first kill s2

[joshdiaz]

first kill s2 + new characters

@nolanhollogay @witchofinterest

[core-cosmos]

“Neither friendship nor love will stop what is necessary Jayce.”

GOD JUST KISS ALREADY

[field-of-sungflowers]

Borrasca fuckin sucks bro its so full of plot holes

[cinematicnomad]

#I think this is good analysis but it’s missing a fundamental element #they don’t think she’s fucked up for anything she’s done or will do. they don’t think her life is a tragedy from her actions. #her life is a tragedy bc she’s a child. think about how much independence and autonomy a child has. #she’s 14. barely out of middle school. #(her actress obviously is older. bc a real 14 year old could not provide the necessary level of performance. but TV claudia is 14.) #claudia cannot exist in human society without a parent figure. which means she is eternally tied to a vampire companion by necessity #book claudia is 5 years old. Louis carries her around like a babydoll. brushes her hair and puts ribbons in it. #obviously TV claudia would not put up with that treatment. she has MUCH more autonomy than book claudia. #but Claudia being uniquely cursed is due to her age. and as her maker lestat is responsible for that #and lestat projects his insecurity back at her #armand wants her out of the way and he recognizes her insecurities/weaknesses immediately and plays them up #that’s why he creates the psychological torture of the baby lulu character for her. #madeleine well that’s interesting. TV madeleine is much more well adjusted as a human being. #book madeleine is a doll maker who lost a child. and Claudia is her replacement baby. they match each other’s freak but it’s crazyyy #they never really touch on Claudia’s age in Europe. they show her basically as a functioning adult. #when like. a biggest part of her tragedy is that she CANT leave Louis. she NEEDS an adult body with her to be passably human. #I’m rambling but yeah. it’s her age. #but she’s literally a black 14 year old who can only go out at night #the human world is so fucking dangerous for her (via @punk-pins)

As much as nearly every character she meets tends to act like there's something uniquely broken and wrong with Claudia, at no point does it truly seem to me like there actually really is? I mean, obviously she is extremely fucked up, she straight up went through a serial killer collecting trophies phase, but there's a level of fucked up that's sort of the baseline for every character in the show, and obviously being turned into a vampire as a child puts her at a unique disadvantage. But for all that everyone around her spends their time bemoaning how dreadful and doomed her life is, even Louis who genuinely loves her but also builds so much of his identity around feeling responsible for her Terrible Fate™, I really don't think she's like, fundamentally damaged any more than any of the other vampires are.

But Lestat is so unwilling to be wrong that every time her life hits an inevitable road bump instead of helping her through it he points and says "look! see! she IS a monster, I was right Louis, making her was a mistake!" (and I think he sees his own monstrousness in her but fails to also see her humanity)

And then Armand meets her and sees only someone who will inevitably lose her mind, so of course speeding up the "inevitable" and siding with the coven to plan her death is just a mercy, absolving himself of any blame. (and he projects his own frailty and desire for death onto her, failing to see her strength and her desire for life)

Which makes it so cathartic when she meets Madeleine, admits to her how broken she feels sometimes, and Madeleine's response is just. Well that's normal. Who isn't a little broken these days. Let yourself feel it, move on, let yourself feel it again if you need to. After spending her life having others act as if her emotions are something uniquely dark and worrying, Madeleine's incredibly blase attitude must have been such an incredible breath of fresh air for Claudia!

To spend her whole life being made to feel like something is Wrong™ with her, and then meet someone who's just like, "yeah, and?? Who isn't? Join the club I guess"

Which makes her death so incredibly tragic and frustrating because like. She was fine! She was making a life for herself! She wasn't doomed by her nature, she wasn't "doomed by the narrative" (whatever the fuck that even means), she was doomed for no reason other than that everyone around her (except for Madeleine) preemptively DECIDED she was doomed and never gave her a chance to prove them wrong.

[neum6ns]

little headcanons for vickys powers bc they r so inconsistent it drives me crazy and i’ve made these all up in my head to act like she didn’t die an unfinished character:

after victoria blew up congress in s2, that woman SLEPTTT. we know that blood manipulation in the boys universe is tiring, victoria says it to marie in gen v, so imagine popping 12+ heads one after another… yeah she was exhausted. she literally ran on coffee and energy drinks for the next few days.

she can constantly hear people’s heartbeats and blood flow and it drives her crazy. i feel like she can hear heartbeats the same way cate can hear everyone’s thoughts - that it’s insanely overwhelming. she can definitely tune them out, it just takes a lot of strength and power. her favourite thing is just being alone with zoe, her heartbeat is the only one she can tolerate.

her eyes only turn white when she uses a lot of her powers (blood manipulation or extra durability). because there is no way in hell one of the smartest the boys characters tried to explode homelander’s head on live television - and that her eyes would turn white even though she didn’t succeed? the only reason they did turn white is because she tanked HOMELANDERS LASERS. like that’s an insane feat and ppl don’t credit my girl enough for that smh 😒

i wish we could see vicky with constant white eyes in the hearing scene in s2 but curse you eric kripke!! i love those pretty eyes 😖 (dare i say she has the second best supe eyes in the whole show! my fave is stormfronts, her powers are so cool)

one of my favourite headcanons is that she used to increase her heart rate around homelander to act like she was scared. especially in her first scene in the show when he swoops down and takes the microphone from her. she could’ve popped his head right there, she had minutes to do it, but instead she acted like she was scared - speeding up her heart rate to not give anything away. ugh she’s so smart and perfect.

in my little fanon world vicky did put herself back together after she was so wrongfully killed (😑). but putting herself back together came at a cost and she lost her powers. vicky had always known in the back of her mind just how powerful she was, stan had been telling her that her whole life. she always knew that if something like that happened, she would be able to come back. her body slowly stitched itself back together, making completely new organs and even more blood! her organs were completely made out of her old blood and guts tho, kinda like patchwork jeans! but they work… so they’re good enough for her.

lemme know if you guys would want more stuff like this! i have a whole essay written about how wrong they did her character, how they should’ve done her powers and ended her storylines but… thats the autism speaking

[constantfragmentation]

HI FELLOW SILCO ENJOYER

What are your thoughts on the polycule theory of felicia-silco-vander? 👀

Whew... where to begin?

Fair warning, this is going to be a long assessment.

First off, I firmly believe (unless S2 Act 3 makes me eat my words), that the writers didn't realize Silco and Vander would become such popular characters. I don't think that was the plan. They were side characters meant to beef up the main stars Jinx and Vi. Rightly so. They were devised as parallels for Vi and Jinx throughout the story. And it was beautiful.

S1 was filled with little details that enhanced every part of the plot and character development through each act.

However, if S/V were so important, more care would have been put into their backstories, which have been kept pretty vague. And these so-called continuity mistakes/plotholes seem pretty big for a studio that has been meticulous in the details all through S1.

We meet Vander, who changes his life after seeing the kids lose their parents and adopts them. Vander is seen as the builder and leader of the Underground, and he seems to lead with the threat of who he used to be (until Sevika calls his ass out).

Silco is introduced as the mean baddie immediately via Vander/Benzo's conversation in E1.

"There's worse things than Enforcers out there. We both know that."

Then his full intro including an underground evil lair and mad scientist at the end of E1.

E2 leans into the same MO for Silco. Until finally coming to the best episode (IMO) in all of S1 and it's E3, where things come to light. But he's still evil, vicious and spares no one. Silco appears to have zero empathy and is filled with a deep seeded hate.

"Silco?! You animal! Go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of!"

S1E1-3 Silco completely paints him as terrible from the Underground's perspective. Silco - bad. Vander - good. Both Vander and Benzo see Silco as a dangerous threat. So does the rest of the Underground feel the same? Do they know about what happened to Silco by Vander's hands? Sevika chooses him because she lost faith in Vander as a leader.

So, that makes me wonder if Silco WAS the brains behind everything from their smuggling business and building up the Underground to the rebellion. Vander on his own, seemingly, isn't shit. He is the muscle. WIthout the brains, he doesn't haven much in planning so he turns to making a deal with Enforcers instead.

By S1E3, we start to see beyond the veil a bit. Vander tried to drown and murder Silco. Let's remember one thing. Vander didn't just try to shoot Silco or they got into a fist fight and things got out of hand.

He tried to DROWN him. There's no way Silco went with Vander to the river fearing his life. Now, whether they went to talk in private and it got heated, you still have to sit back and look at Young!Vander and think wtf?

He is painted the good guy from the beginning. A man with restraint and compassion, looking out for everyone and especially his 'kids'.

It takes will and strength to smother/drown a person. It is NOT a quick death, it's a slow and painful death. Vander's intent was to kill him. Not once, did Vander think in the minutes holding Silco underwater that damn, this is wrong or overkill? You don't flippantly say "I'll never forgive myself" for trying to murder you slowly. Now beating the shit out of him and ruining his eye, yeah, that would make more sense from Vander, knowing he probably turned Silco into this worse person and fucked up his face, vision forever.

The viewer is left to assume it was something so fucking bad, Vander had to kill to stop it. Plus, Silco is already painted as the bad guy, so we presume Vander was right in trying to kill him?

So, what was so bad that this course of action was required? Well, it's pretty damn vague. In all of E3, Felicia isn't mentioned or hinted at ONCE. Not once. If Vander tried to kill Silco because of her, why do we not learn about any of it?? That seems like a pretty important fact, yes? This is Vi/Jinx's mom and she was a close friend? I'd say that's important.

Nope. Silco drags Vander to his lair and waxes on about fighting Piltover and finally realizing his dream of a free Zaun by any means.

Vander tells Silco he's never forgiven himself for trying to kill him, but nothing else is added to it? We're left to believe that Silco was either too powerful and influential in Zaun or that he orchestrated the bridge fight (that Vander was still fighting until the kids arrive and they see their dead parents).

This grey area is why the fandom has spent years trying to decipher what was so bad that it tore two brothers apart with attempted murder.

We learn in S2, Vander apparently "looked everywhere" for Silco and then wrote him a letter in a mine, hoping Silco might come across it. Well, if your brother tried to murder you, I'd say you would stay far away from him and not venture to old places in case he might try it again? Sounds reasonable, yes?

So Vander just gave up trying to talk to Silco and explain everything for YEARS? By S1E1 he and Benzo know about Silco and probably know where he is and that he's up to no good obviously. So why haven't they talked once in years?

Vander said he was in a rage over Felicia's death. But I'm sorry, none of that makes much sense and frankly takes the fire out of what created the fracture between two friends.

I would have preferred Riot not explain than give us a half-assed backstory of three happy-go-lucky buddies and the death of one is the backbone of hate, distrust and betrayal.

Again, Silco said Vander BETRAYED him. If they were arguing about Felicia and her partner dying, leaving kids orphaned, I don't call that betrayal. Vander's letter sounds like an argument that got out of hand. You don't just accidentally drown your best friend for the greater good because your other friend died in a fight ALL of you were fighting. You knew people would get hurt and/or die. It's reality.

It just doesn't FIT. It doesn't fit these characters at all in the narrative from S1.

Another reason I believe Riot never intended to go further with Silco and Vander's backstory is in the animation. Like I said above, S1 was littered with little and amazing details that we, as the viewer, have been analyzing for years.

The drowning was a VERY young Silco and Vander. Vander clearly has a beard and looks much older on the bridge in E1. The flashback in E3 looks like it was 10 years earlier at LEAST. That would be around the time Vi was born or a toddler if we're estimating her age by S1E1 on the bridge.

Vander beat the shit out of him and then decided to kill him by drowning. THAT is a major choice to make. That is a vicious choice. So we do see Vander as being more violent in his youth. So if the drowning came AFTER the bridge, that also doesn't quite fit either. He takes the kids and chooses pacifism, yet soon after, he's murdering his best friend. AND he suddenly shaved and grew younger, because he wanted to look clean and pretty before killing his bestie?

Zero continuity here. Bad writing. If there was mistake due to animation, they should have changed the backstory to fit than ramrod something else that looks badly done and makes zero sense to your audience.

Personally, I wish the drowning was PRIOR to the bridge battle.

It would make more sense if Vander was having second thoughts while planning the bridge fight. Maybe a separate attack went wrong and he realized they were going to lose and many would die. Silco, maybe having more influence or threatening to show Vander as a coward to the people is what finally triggers Vander to kill him. In order to stop this, Silco needs to die and then maybe Vander can convince others the fight is already lost against a superior firepower.

To kill Silco in that manner, signals to me, Silco was a great threat. Which means to me, Vander either felt he was a threat to him (since Vander does become the power in the Underground - the Hound) or he is beginning to feel like this fight is pointless and will change nothing. People will die for nothing.

Making it all about Felicia, just takes the fire out of rift between these two men all these years.

Again, she's never mentioned.

Silco even reflects in S1E3 that he still respected Vander after the drowning until he learned Vander was working with Enforcers and basically made a deal with Topside to keep the peace. That continues his pathway as a rebel and he's going to take down Vander with it or use him "what you really are".

Silco knows how violent Vander was and he's going to use it with Shimmer.

If we go by S2 timeline, then both Silco and Vander would know Felicia's kids well before the bridge battle. in S1, Silco would know who Vi is, at least and be aware of Powder. He would know this by S1E3 when he says "Have you heard the rumour? Vander the coward fled town with his children and were never seen again."

Pretty callous talking about his other bestie's kids like that. Damn. If Silco cared for her, then wouldn't he spare her kids? I just don't see this was ever about Felicia. It doesn't fit. He really didn't flinch in having Vi or any of the kids killed. HER kids? I'm having a hard time with that one.

I've said before that in Silco's eyes, Vi is an extension of Vander. When he finds Powder and she cuts off Vi as her sister, Jinx becomes an extension of himself, thus HIS daughter. It's like Silco's last "fuck you" to Vander by taking Felicia's other daughter as his own.

Overall, I hope to hell it's not some love triangle. Or either man was in love or had a crush on her.

I read some fans saying since the flashbacks are Vander's in S2, we're seeing things from his perspective. I'm all for an unreliable narrator with characters because it keeps things open for interpretation.

But we would need to see this from Silco's perspective, too—not just the drowning/betrayal. Silco sees this as a major factor in the direction his character takes. It's a life-changing moment for him.

We also don't see any flashbacks to the years Silco took care of Jinx after Vander's death. If he knew Jinx's mom, wouldn't that come up? Wouldn't that be something Jinx would remember and influence her?

In S2, she reminisces a few memories of her mom like nothing has happened since. She and Vi act like nothing really happened between them. By the end of S1, the sisters diverge when Jinx decides who she will be. It's Jinx, not Powder. She knows Silco loved her and, more importantly, accepted her for who she was. She was perfect in his eyes.

Plus, Vander's trio flashback seems odd in both animation and backstory choices. Silco looks VERY different than his flashback of the drowning. His hair is much longer (man bun), he has a widow's peak he doesn't have later (weird). He appears to care for Felicia and happy for her being a mom. They made him more physically attractive and older than the flashback in S1E3.

Vander doesn't look like the younger version in Silco's drowning flashback. He looks older too. Animation choices were made that don't match the continuity of the previous season.

We're assuming their smuggling business is doing well if Felicia talks about the Underground being much better for everyone. Are we still giving Vander full credit for that? S1 implies Vander built the Underground both from Grayson and Zaunites.

Silco jokes he is "Bozo #1". To me, he is joking but not in saying he's the mastermind in this duo. Without him, Vander's just a brute.

I'm not sure of Vi's age by S1E1, but maybe she's 10 or 12? So prior to the battle unless a fallout happened with Vander and Silco, why don't we see Silco with the kids? Why do the kids act like they don't know him? If they were such a tight trio with Felicia, why only Vander with the kids?

He fought at the bridge knowing Felicia had two young kids that could be orphaned and was still fighting when the kids showed up. He already knew Felicia was dead but was still fighting.

If her death was too much, why didn't he stop then? The kids appreance stopped him. Okay. I get that. But we don't see Silco anywhere on that bridge, does he know she dead? Is he still fighting? Where is he?

This whole polycule feels like they had to throw it in somewhere but didn't adequately explain it to match the motivations of the characters we have known and studied. It opens more plothole questions than it answers. It creates more problems that did not need to be there.

If Felicia wasn't that important to expand on last season, why do it now and do it poorly that contradicts characterizations already laid down in the whole previous season?

I'll say it again and again: Riot did not plan for it. They didn't think Vander and especially Silco would be so popular, and fans would demand to know more about them.

Plus, another thing that kind of bugged me:

When Vi is embracing Warwick/Vander and tells Jinx "He's your dad too."

Yeah, it's a nice moment, but it's a shit on Silco too. Technically, didn't JInx have more years with Silco than Vander? She saw Silco as her father (although not the best), accepted her, encouraged her skills, gave her important jobs, wouldn't give her up and called her perfect in his dying words.

I guess fuck that dad, right? He is evil dad and now he's dead, doesn't matter anymore.

Did anyone else feel like Jinx turned back into Powder this season? The kicker in S1, is that she CHOSE to be Jinx. IDK. The sisters were real quick to hook back up after everything.

As I've said before, they needed maybe three seasons if they were going this route. No character is getting enough time this season for good story-telling and character development. Too much is getting crammed in one season and it's sad because there is SO much story to work with.

I, for one, would watch another season of these characters. You could take time to explain the Black Rose and Mel's story. Ekko has nothing this season. Jayce doesn't have much. There's very little explaining and too many new questions that won't get answered in one season.

Vi became an Enforcer for half a second. Granted Caitvi only knew each other for maybe a week so for their 'relationship' to fall apart doesn't surprise me. But Cait bouncing back and forth. Jinx bouncing back immediately after Silco's death doesn't make sense since he wasn't the cause of her mental illness.

"Silco didn't create Jinx. You did."

Sister's bond quickly like nothing happened between them. Sevika is suddenly on Jinx's side with little work considering they disliked each so much.

Intro of a new character, Isha.

Viktor turns into Jesus and hangs out in the Big Bang with Sky. I was waiting for Machine Herald and got Jesus Herald.

Ambessa could have a better story but again, I think they needed at least one more season to flesh everything out. It's all too fast and packing way too much into one season of plot for so many characters. The sister's reunion is too fast. We don't get enough info on Warwick yet.

I hope, but they can't tie all this up in three more episodes.

Sorry for the mental vomit, but I've been thinking about this all week, and now it's out like verbal diarrhea. Even though I've enjoyed this season, I can't help but feel disappointed. S1 was so much better.

[loliwrites]

August: Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast

part one of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader  ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother!reader [child won’t play a massive role], canon compliant gun violence [starts with a snippet from s1e7], mention of canon compliant violence against women [javi remembers helena], terrible exes, mention of past relationship abuse [nothing specific or graphic], creepy guys [not javi], sassy chucho, alcohol consumption, brief SMUT, car sex, unprotected p in v sex, post-sex photos, cigarettes [are bad for you], javi’s gonna make a good girl dad, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 7.3k (woof, sorry. there was a lot of exposition to get out) ⇢ series masterlist  ⇢ a/n: switching pov’s in this one. very excited to share this series with y’all & would love to know what you think about it! as always, i’ve done my best to tag the warnings, let me know if you think i’ve missed one.

Two shots. One right after the other. That’s all it took before he managed to get his first shot off. Well, that and the sound of lead whizzing by his head. Clear and present threats to his life trying to break skin and shatter bone. In another lifetime maybe he’d have been a little faster. A little quicker to the trigger. When out on raids like this, he wasn’t sure why his finger wasn’t perpetually in a half pulled position anyway. What use was it trying to take these guys alive? They shot first and asked questions second. Why didn’t he? If they had no qualms killing a DEA agent, why’d he take precautions to save that of a sicario?

These are fanciful thoughts. Ones you can only think about after the fact. Ones only after you’ve almost had your life ended, when your adrenaline has played its role – when you’re no longer running through the streets of Medellín, praying that when you round the corner, some guy with a .38 isn’t going to clock you in the head. Bullseye.

Those are thoughts that have to come later because running after a guy nicknamed ‘Sure Shot’ doesn’t instill one with a whole lot of confidence that he’s going to get out of this alive. Hell, maybe it’s lucky Poison fired the first two shots through the window. Maybe it was fate that he’d had those couple seconds to shoot back and make a run for it before Sure Shot lifted his handgun. 

Not that anything that followed was lucky.

Murphy had gone after Poison. He’d run after Sure Shot, who, while on the run, seemed to disregard his nickname and the fact that he had a weapon in his hands. Before they’d separated too much, he could hear shots ringing off and knew Murphy wasn’t having the same experience with Poison. Rather unfortunately, the streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives, put right in the middle of the action through no fault of their own other than the misfortune of their geography. They were making it hard for him to keep pace. And should things go even more amiss, they would become collateral damage.

He rolled his ankle once while propelling himself over a wall. When he landed, he knew he fucked up. Not as spry and nimble as he used to be. And surely not as much as the man he was chasing. But they were leaving the crowds. Dodging the busy streets and trading them in for back alleys which left them virtually alone. That was when it really all went to hell. He’d gotten Sure Shot pinned in his crosshairs. One could call it a perfect sting operation as Sure Shot slid his gun over. But if there had been one thing Javier Peña had learned being in Colombia, it was that he should never count on being lucky, especially when it came to anything Pablo Escobar related. Because money spoke, but it spoke louder in the slums. 

And the child that had arrived pointing a handgun at him, demanding Sure Shot be let go? Sometimes twenty dollars looked too damn good. And to a child who’d been exposed to cartel violence for the entirety of his life; being handed a gun with the money was like a dream come true. They weren’t playing cowboys and indians. They were playing policía y sicarios.

Up until that point, the worst thing he ever had to do was point his government issued sidearm at that child. He didn’t know it at the time, but that would eventually lose its place on his growing list of ‘worst things he’d done’. He couldn’t even blame the kid who was only acting in favor of a hero, so he added it to the list of reasons to hate Escobar.

Javi blinked. He was no longer in Bogotá or Medellín, but in Laredo, Texas. His hometown. Gone were the days of chasing someone down and being shot at, for now at least. Now his days consisted of helping his dad out on the ranch or DEA desk work. That was the one perk to Laredo. It sat right up against the US, Mexico border with an international airport a stone's throw away on the Mexico side, in Nuevo Laredo. It was just the right place for a DEA field office to set up and watch drugs try to enter the US. But it was also the place Javi had run from. The first chance he got, despite conversations with his father about how he could run but he might not like what he found. Truth was, he didn’t. The world outside Laredo was… pretty terrible. But he never regretted leaving. There had been some remorse there for what had happened with Lorraine, but never regret. 

Javier closed his mouth and swallowed. It had run dry in his moment of blacking out. Honestly, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten into a car wreck. He rested his arm on the car door and drummed his fingers against the hot metal. It had spent the better half of the day baking in the sun while he sat at border watch. Now it’d bake a little longer while he helped fix a fence on his dad’s ranch. 

He glanced out his window, squinting despite the sunglasses over his eyes and had to do a quick double take. You gotta be kidding me. Going along the sidewalk, arms swinging haphazardly, a little girl walked all by herself. She couldn’t have been more than six. Pigtails bounced with each step she took. Little Mary Jane shoes buckled over white socks, a navy blue and white checkered dress. She looked entirely out of place in the horribly country town. An innocent little creature in a world full of wolves. And as Javi continued to watch her, slowing down to accommodate for a red light but also to keep in line with her, he saw the wolves start to come out. The little girl remained oblivious to all of it, as a child who doesn’t know the world is full of evil would. A stark contrast to a lot of the children in Colombia. 

Though she was able to continue on her way without notice of the world around her, Javi couldn’t. Not as she passed a group of boys on bikes – probably only a few years older than her – and how they tugged on her pigtails when she walked by. She waved her hands at them, brushing them out of her ringlets, the permanent smile not leaving her face for a second. The boys followed her for a few steps after she passed, probably thinking she’d pay them some attention if they teased her loud enough. But the moment they were behind her and no longer in her line of vision, it was like she had forgotten they’d ever been alive. Not once did she turn around to them, and finding this game now boring, the boys turned back and pedaled away. But those boys were the least of her worries. Sure, the boys were annoying but they proved to be no real threat. Kids didn’t carry guns here like they did in Medellín. At least, Javi didn’t think they did.

There was, however, a real threat. Or one Javi perceived to be a real threat. He doubted the little angel realized she was walking through a potential lion’s den. Now fully stopped at the red light, he kept his focus squarely on her. He didn’t want to think too hard about how useless he was while actually in his car, but regardless, he continued to watch. She skipped past a group of three men. Using the profiling skills the DEA had drilled into him, he figured these guys were around his age, though a little worse for wear. Each had a cigarette hanging from their lips and beer bellies hanging from beneath shirts. And every single one watched the little girl pass by. The conversation the men had been having stopped almost immediately, and gave way to what could best be described as ogling. Only once did one of the men manage to tear his eyes away to glance up and down the street. As if fully realizing this little angel was indeed alone they all started to chuckle.

The red light had thwarted the little girl’s advance. She reached up on tip toes and pressed her tiny fingers against the metal pedestrian button. Traffic in front of her and the group of men behind her, she was trapped in the middle. Javi almost thought he’d just continue on his way. That girl’s parents had made the decision to let their child walk alone. Prey to the world. And he had responsibilities to get through. His dad would tear him a new one if he was late. The fence had to be fixed by nightfall to keep coyotes from killing the chickens. He really thought he’d go on his way.

But they whistled at her.

And though not in the way Javi had been guilty of doing to a hooker or two, but in a way of trying to get her attention in lieu of candy. They whistled at her. And he prayed she’d continue to ignore the world around her. For just a second more.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Javi tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over his right shoulder, make sure he was in the clear, and then broke a few traffic laws to get to the curb. He threw his car in park, mumbled another profanity to himself, and got out of his car. Even breaking a few more laws to cross the street as the light turned green. But he had to get to her. Maybe to the public, he looked no better than the guys who had whistled at her. But he knew himself. He trusted himself a helluva lot more than he trusted those guys. So dodging traffic, he ran to her side of the street as the men advanced toward her. Despite the light now showing the little walking man, giving her the right of way, she didn’t move from the curb. Just stared at the street as Javi approached, “muñequita!”

The sound of his voice was enough to get the men to pivot on their heels and walk away from her. Javi was glad about that. He didn’t want to try to go up against three beer bellies. But the sound of his voice hadn’t been enough to get her attention. He tried again, now stepping up onto the curb beside her, “muñequita.”

Finally she looked at him. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted back, and big, brown, soulful eyes looked up into his. The smile still on her face. Painfully unaware of the world around her. “Muñequita, where’re you going all by yourself?”

“Home,” she lifted one hand and pointed straight ahead.

Javi looked in the direction of her hand, finding that the light had already turned red again. He reached past her and hit the metal button again. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s working!” the little voice chirped. High-pitched and very clear. Obviously, strange man, mommy is working.

“What about your dad? Where’s he?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Javi pursed his lips and nodded. He must’ve been out of the picture. Surely wasn’t the first deadbeat dad in the world. Javier crouched down, wincing, and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, muñequita. Can I drive you home?”

The little girl shook her head but the smile remained, “mommy said not to get in stranger’s cars.”

“That’s right. Your mommy’s very smart.” He looked back at the streetlight. It had turned green for them again. “Can I walk you home, then?”

She nodded enthusiastically, probably just happy to have a ‘friend’ along for the walk that she could muse too. So Javi stepped off the curb and started crossing the street. But when he looked down to ask her if she knew her address, he found that she wasn’t beside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the curb. Her arm outstretched. Her delicate little hand opening and closing in his direction. Help, help, help. He took a breath and lowered his head sheepishly, he should’ve known, and made the few steps back to her. With his hand held open, she slotted hers in it and jumped off the curb with flair, skipping along to keep up with him.

It melted his heart. This sweet, little creature. A Lamb of God. And though she wasn’t pointing a gun at his face, she reminded him a lot of that little Colombian boy in Medellín. That boy had been given a gun and left alone. Sent to do the work of a drug lord who was far too willing to sacrifice a child’s life as long as it wasn’t his own. And this one… what was to become of this angelita left alone? If the crimes he’d seen committed against children in Colombia hadn’t been bad enough, the crimes he witnessed against women had been. At that moment, looking down at the little girl, Javier only thought of Helena. He wondered where she was. Where she ended up. Had she gotten to America? Had it been kind to her?

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javi knocked on the front door and took a step back. He glanced down at the little girl, her hand still firmly gripping his. She hadn’t let go of it since they crossed the street. It also wasn’t the only thing she didn’t stop doing on the rest of the walk. She hadn’t stopped talking. About the clouds, every dog they passed, her school friends and their first grade-sized drama. He’d learned she was five and a quarter and one of the youngest in her class. Her favorite color was purple. And she liked her scooter because she was afraid of her bike.

And above all, she did not seem concerned that there was no answer at her house. Javi knocked again, but the girl pulled her hand out of his and ran back down the porch step, down the small paved path, and cut across to the lawn. Javi immediately turned and went after her, taking a couple steps in her direction before he slowed down when he saw what she had set out to do. Crouched down, singing to herself, she plucked a flower from the grass and came skipping back to him.

“Look!” She thrust the tiny flower in his direction.

He glanced at it, shifting his focus between the little, yellow flower and her. “Wow,” he feigned excitement.

She tugged on his hand again, “‘s a buttercup! Sit, I want to see if you’re good!”

Javi took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, wondering if anyone had seen him arrive with her. If they were suspicious as to what some random man was doing with a little child that wasn’t his. But she tugged on his hand again so he sat on the step and she curled in closer to him, resting her free hand on his leg.

“See!” She held the flower beneath her chin, “‘f’it glows lellow, that means you’re good!” She grinned and got impossibly closer to him. “Is it lellow?”

He ducked his head and spotted a faint colorful glow on her chin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sun was reflecting it. “Yeah, it’s yellow,”

“I’m good!” She shrieked and reached her hand towards Javi’s face, “lemme see if it’s lellow for you,”

Javier stretched his neck, raising his chin to give her access to the spot she needed for her experiment. There was a little pause, the petals brushing against the bottom of his chin as she inspected it. His eyes locked on her, watching.

“It is!”

She yanked her hand away and Javi lowered his chin, a new, wide grin spread across his face. “I’m good?” he asked, looping his arm around her back when she flung the flower away and scooted in closer to him.

The little girl nodded and opened her mouth to say something else but her attention was quickly diverted when a set of tires crackled along the gravel driveway. She hopped to her feet excitedly, but stayed planted beside Javier, her hand clutching his leg to steady herself.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Panic set in at the sight of an unknown man sitting, waiting at your house. The panic turned heart-stopping when you saw that that unknown man had his arm wrapped around your young daughter. Worse, he seemed to be smiling… beaming… at her. As if he’d found the greatest of prizes. Though his smile did vanish upon the sound of your tires crunching along the gravel driveway.

And the way you exited your car? With speed you didn’t know was in you. The story you’d heard about a mama bear instinct kicking in, in times of crisis had never exposed itself as fiercely as it did in this moment. It had only come in shades of gray before. Now it was full on technicolor. You were seeing it in living color and it felt as though you’d been removed from your body, floating above it all, getting a bird’s eye view. The way this man stood clutching onto your daughter’s hand, and the way she hesitated to obey your command to get away from him in order to give him a hug around the leg. A bitterness rose in your throat and only slightly settled when she finally bounded toward you. Still from your bird’s eye view, it was as if you watched yourself inspect her for harm done but found none. And temporarily satisfied, you suggested she carry on to the backyard. A gated safe haven and more importantly, far, far away from the strange, mustached man, staring at you both. 

She obliged, as she always did. She was an angel. And after your ex – her father – all but split at the pregnancy announcement, an angel was exactly what you needed. The expectation was never that you’d become a single parent, but you figured it was a better option than sticking around with that deadbeat. Which, as you approached the stranger on your porch, made you wonder… where was that deadbeat? It was his day to pick her up from school. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spat, now in killing distance if you so pleased to do to this guy. “So help me, I will cut off your dick and balls, put it on a pike, and march it through town! She’s five for fuck’s sake!”

Javi to his credit, not particularly known for his abundant patience, didn’t yell back. Didn’t fly off the handle in a fit of anger. Didn’t even let his expression show the slightest hint of sorrow. In fact, he had a smile on his face. And if that didn’t piss you the hell off even more. 

“Is this your thing? You follow a little girl home, scoop her up, and poof! She vanishes. You fuck right off.”

Smile still plastered on his face, clearly finding some form of enjoyment from this spectacle you were putting on. But when the rampage simmered down, awaiting an answer, he lifted his hand, palm turned upward in an invitation to embrace yours, and grinned a little wider, “Javier Peña, DEA.”

You scoffed, staring his hand down and crossing your arms over your chest, “you think it’s better that you’re a cop? One bad apple…”

He rested his hands on his hips, “technically a Fed. For drug enforcement. And as far as I know, she didn’t have any coke-laced lollipops on her.”

You opened your mouth for another smart response, anything to show that you had the upper hand here. Concerning your kin. On your property. But Javi took a step forward, effectively forcing you back off the singular porch step, and there he stood towering over you, on the high ground. Though he would’ve towered over you anyway, even had you been on equal footing.

“If I were a cop, I’d be lecturin’ you about how it’s irresponsible to let your child walk home alone. And worse that she’s only five, as you so generously pointed out. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, you need to be worryin’ about the fuckin’ group of men whistling at her. Tryna get her attention.” He stepped off the porch, now on even ground with you, and just as suspected, he towered over you. Broad shoulders straining against a button-down cotton shirt, square jaw and strong nose to boot. “You don’t have to believe this, but I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life today. ‘cause in my line of work, I have seen kids go poof. And for the little girls, they’re lucky if they go poof. It’s usually a helluva lot better than the alternative,”

Despite the height difference, you stepped closer, coming face to chest. Doing your best threatening glare. “If I see you around my daughter again, I will parade your severed penis around town like it’s a fourth of July float. Do not fucking try me, Javier Peña,”

It wasn’t until you let yourself inside the house and slammed the door behind you, that the smile returned to Javi’s face and he crossed through the front yard to get back to the sidewalk. While talk about one’s severed penis was rarely a reason to smile, it was one of the least violent things that he’d been threatened with and he figured that sort of punishment was far better than the kind that he’d watched Los Pepes commit in Colombia. And, yes, the cause had been just – in the effort to take down Pablo Escobar. But he knew the ease with which Los Pepes murdered sicarios in Medellín would one day be turned against him. They would have found a justification for his murder. And that, mixed with the fact that what he was doing was definitely illegal, was the reason he was back in Laredo. And the reason he’d been able to keep the muñequita safe today. 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

He knew he wouldn’t make it to Chucho’s ranch before sundown. No chance. And his dad, also not particularly known for his patience (at least where it concerned his son), wasn’t bound to be too pleased about his son’s absence today. Hopefully he’d managed to fix the fence without him.

Javier’s suspicions proved to be correct when he pulled up his father’s long, dirt driveway and came upon the main house just as Chucho and his longtime ranch hand, Pancho, were stepping out the front door. For the second time that day, Javi found himself murmuring, “fuck,” beneath his breath.

Headlights illuminated the two older gentlemen, who still donned their boots, cowboy hats, and dusty jeans from their laborious day. Javi threw the car in park nearly before he hit the brakes, surely stripping the gears, and hopped out of the cab, ready to plead his case.

Chucho held up his hand. The wrinkles etched deep in his skin after decades of hard work in the sun. “No mames!” He shook his head and muttered to himself, “pinche naco. You owe Pancho a couple beers.” The elder Peña rounded to the driver side of his truck with Pancho letting himself into the passenger side. But before he fully entered the cab, Chucho looked back at Javi with a shout, “meet us at the Tack Room!”

The Tack Room. One of a handful of watering holes in town that boasted a kitschy barn theme. But it had the distinction of being the only one that was actually in an old barn. It had been transformed into the bar in Chucho’s young adulthood, and it had been his go-to place ever since Javier could remember. It was nothing fancy. Just a small town dive. Truly a place for locals though it wasn’t as if Laredo had much tourist appeal. Drinks were cheap. Domestic beers hovered around a buck. The food was greasy. Perfect for soaking up the alcohol already consumed and making patrons believe they could tolerate more. To Chucho it was home away from home, and to Javier, it was the place he’d gotten hooked on cigarettes. And places like it had been the reason he’d been so keen on leaving town as soon as he could. In a town as small as this, the local dives harbored three types of people:

The townsfolk who gossiped and got into everyone’s business.

The rancheros who never thought about leaving town.

And the deadbeats who never even tried.

And he’d gone to school with a lot of those in column number three. It was the bubble. People settled down here with jobs that barely paid the bills. They got married and started families. Those kids grew up, and never having the care, ambition, or opportunity to venture outside of southern Texas, stayed put. They fell in line with the work they’d watched their parents do and eventually started having babies of their own. And the cycle continued. All Javier knew was he had to get the hell out of there. So he did… despite the lump of guilt in his stomach about leaving his aging father behind. And when leaving brought him all the way to Colombia, Javi never thought he’d step foot in The Tack Room ever again.

It never failed to smell like sweat, burnt oil, and sawdust. A unique odor that all but singed his nose hairs and left him thinking his sense of smell would forever be compromised. The taste of Tecate didn’t even help. Not even the second one they were all on.

“Did you get the fence up, dad?” Javier asked, side-eyeing the girls at the next table over. If they weren’t old classmates or old girlfriends, he’d have a chance at warming up his bed tonight. They both looked like strangers to him. He could take his pick… or perhaps get both.

“No thanks to you, pendejo.”

“Alright, pop,” He took another sip from his pint glass. “I said I was sorry. I got held up, what do you want from me?”

Chucho lifted his cowboy hat off his head and smoothed out his hair before placing the hat back on. “Don’t think askin’ my son to stick to his word is too much. Instead Pancho has to help and his back’s–” Chucho interrupted himself. Then, looking past his son, and with a tone that dripped soft saccharine, “hola, chiquita!”

“Hola, Chucho!”

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

The day hadn’t been great to say the least. No day in Laredo was great but thanks to a deadbeat baby daddy and an even deader-beat judge, it was where you were holed up. Traded in San Antonio for it and cursed yourself everyday. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t any getting out of Laredo. Not for you. Not for any of the townies you’d come to recognize. Everyone just stayed put. The reason as to why hadn’t yet revealed itself. There wasn’t anything great in Laredo.

Well maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

A deadbeat baby daddy for an ex was the reason you were here but without him you wouldn’t have had actual sunshine for a daughter. How she ended up like that while being genetically half of him, you’d never know. But if having chosen a different guy meant you’d never had her, it’s a mistake you would’ve made over and over and over again. She was just about the greatest thing ever planted on God’s green earth. 

And your job wasn’t so bad. Your first job, at least. There was some sort of cruel irony that job number one was as a clerk in the same courthouse where that deadbeat judge had told you it’d be “beneficial for the girl to grow up around her father”. He obviously didn’t know, or care to learn, just how terrible that guy was. Truthfully anyone – literally anyone – would be better off not being around him. But clerking was a job nonetheless. One with a steady schedule and pay. Easy to plan life around. Not like the second job. 

Very few good arguments could be made for The Tack Room. And even less for being a bartender there. Originally you thought a small town bar only full of locals meant that everyone would treat you kindly. But you learned people were pretty much dicks anywhere you went in the world. See, a small town bar full of locals meant that the patrons started to get a little too comfortable. And since no respectable woman would be caught dead drinking at The Tack Room, it meant the place was full with large, aggressively masculine men, who’d spent the day working in the sun or bumming it on the couch while their woman brought everything to the table. And those large, aggressively masculine men, when given liquid courage, started to think they were God’s gift to humanity. Glorified machines to move their penises from one room to another. A normal shift meant being catcalled, grabbed, hugged, or pinched more times than you had fingers. The other girls blushed and cowered and took that behavior. They were raised here – worse, they’d known some of the older men who were now pinching their asses, as children. 

Not you. You could thank your deadbeat ex for that. No man was ever going to lay a hand on you like that again.

“Hola chiquita!” The soundwaves drifted in your direction, wrapping the sing-song lilt around your atmosphere, and settling warm in your chest.

Actually, there was one good thing about The Tack Room. Chucho Peña. A quiet, aging gentleman from a bygone era; he was an unforeseen light. He’d liked you since the day he met you a year or so back, here at the bar. First shift, carrying a tray of empty beer bottles, Pepe Hernandez (that asshole) grabbed you by the back pocket of your jeans, pulled you back into him until you were seated in his lap and while he thought he was hung like a horse, you realized he was working with a chode. You told him as such – something mean and cutting since he’d already been rude with you – and instead of quietly nursing his bruised ego, he cocked a fist back and tried to take a swing.

Another thing to thank your deadbeat ex for. He taught you that fists were fast but your reflexes could be faster. You dropped the tray, beer bottles crashing to the sawdust floor, and dodged his hand. He may’ve missed but you never did. Landed one punch straight to his nose. With the commotion, you could hear your boss rumbling, coming out from the kitchen to see what the matter was. And before you knew it your little unforeseen light, Chucho Peña, was beside you. He nudged you out of the way and stood over Pepe.

Your eyes widened at Chucho, but your boss arrived at the scene you’d created but Chucho was taking credit for. He wanted to holler and cuss someone out. Crack some skulls for causing a ruckus. But finding Chucho (who, you’d later found out, had given your now boss his first ranching job as a teenager), your boss backed down and kicked Pepe out.

That first night, Chucho had given you his classic Peña wink and introduced himself. He didn’t like men around acting like fools and making his beer taste bad. But he liked you. Liked your grit. Your guts. And maybe because he knew you could rip him apart, he always treated you extra nice. To make up for the fact that no one else did.

“Hola, Chucho!” You yelled back over the noise of the bar.

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

You handed your purse to the bartendress behind the already crowded bar and got an apron from her in return. Wrapped it around your waist and tied it tightly around your waist on your way over to the table Chucho and Pancho were sitting at. Chucho had mentioned his son only a couple times in passing. You got the sense it was a sensitive subject and never cared to pry too much. 

But this son… your blood ran cold at the sight of him. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, clean shaven save for the mustache…

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Out of all the faces he imagined coming up to the table per his father’s offering, he never guessed it’d be you. And that fact made a little chuckle erupt from his throat when he held out his hand for an introduction you didn’t need.

“Hey, chiquita,” he smirked, all charm and nerve. Even more pleased with himself when you shoved your hand into his and told him your actual name.

But less pleased after you practically ignored him after that. Only spent a couple minutes making small talk with Chucho, trying to remain polite despite wanting to get the fuck away from his son. Maybe one day you’d fill the elder Peña in on how his son was caught with a five year old.

After you politely excused yourself from the table so you could get to work, and Javier realized he’d been practically silent the entire time, he glanced at his dad and found him gearing up for a ribbing.

“Didn’t you used to have game with the ladies?” Chucho grinned and took a sip of his beer.

“She’s not my type,” Javi grumbled.

“Ah ha. You mean she’d take a bit of work,” Chucho nodded, easing his cowboy hat back out of his eyes. “Son, it’s the women like that, that you gotta hold on to,”

Javi shook his head absently, trying to write off his dad’s comments. But he still spent the rest of the night glancing back at the bar every now and again to get a glimpse of you. He wondered how much “work” it’d take him until you bent for him just like every other woman. To his dismay, you didn’t come back to the table the rest of the night. Instead, another waitress made the rounds and filled up the beers. She didn’t seem to have any problem with him. She’d be an easy one to get. But his dad’s words rang in his ears, and despite the waitress putting in a mighty effort to get his attention, he just kept looking back at you.

Until about midnight when he needed to close out. That waitress had stopped coming around when Chucho and Pancho left and she realized she wasn’t going to get any attention from him. He stood from the table and wandered over to the bar, pulling his leather billfold out of his wallet. Foot propped up on the kick step beneath the bar, and forearms on the wood bar top, he smiled when you made eye contact with him, practically forced to help him.

“Closing out?” you asked, noncommittally. 

He nodded affirmatively, waiting until you were back in front of him with the printed tab before he asked, “who’s watchin’ your kid now?”

And you could deck him. Really could. Put some serious thought into it. But he seemed to catch on that his little joke wasn’t too funny.

“Sorry,” he bowed and slid his credit card over to you.

You ran his card, taking deep breaths so that when you turned around to face him, you wouldn’t be seeing complete red. It worked just a bit, and when you turned to hand the bill back to him, you only saw shades of dark pink. “Chucho never mentioned his son was DEA. Sounds like a lie,”

Javier smiled again. While he slid his credit card back into his wallet, he simultaneously slid out the badge that got him into the local office. Presenting it to you and adding the same blank expression on his face as his picture on the badge, he figured you believed him.

“She talked about you all day,” you shook your head and ran a towel over the bar to wipe away lingering condensation. It gave you something to do other than get lost in his eyes. “The buttercups told her you were good,”

“Not sure who taught her that, but buttercups aren’t very good judges of character,”

“I did,”

He pressed his lips together and leaned a little closer to the bar. “Well, they’re not. But they didn’t lie,”

You nodded, relenting. “Then I guess I should thank you. And apologize for that stuff about severing your penis and marching it through town,”

“Trust me, I’m sure you’re not the only woman in Laredo interested in separating me from my penis,”

“It does some damage, doesn’t it?”

A flush worked its way up to Javi’s cheeks and he laughed softly. He figured he’d let that one go without response. Your brain could imagine for itself what kind of damage he could do.

“I’m off in a half hour. If you stick around, I can show you how sorry I am,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Maybe this not so great day was turning around. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you were currently seated on Javi’s lap in the passenger seat of your car, knees planted on either side of his waist, pressing against the coarse seat fabric. Tight t-shirt pushed up as far as it would go with your arms still in the sleeves. High enough for your breasts to be exposed; lace bra hiding the last bit of skin you had to offer. His hands had a crushing hold on your hips, rocking your body along his length. He was perpetually bottomed out, the lack of space giving no chance for reprieve. You brought one hand to the back of his neck while the other flung up and pressed against the roof of the car, trying to keep yourself down despite your body involuntarily inching away from him. Not that the confines of the space, or his grip on you, would let you get too far.

“C’mon, give it to me,” he growled with a labored breath.

A moan ripped through your chest and throat. Thighs quivered around Javi’s hips, which he undoubtedly felt because a chuckle rumbled past his lips and into the space between you both. You lowered your head, looking down into his eyes which were already boring into your soul.

“Already?”

“Shut up, Peña,”

He snapped his hips upward, where the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, searching for entry into a depth your body couldn’t accommodate. But entry wasn’t the ultimate goal, it was just to prove to you that he could. So he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you pinned to him where every movement of your body on his created friction against your clit. 

“Javi, querida. It’s Javi,”

Your head lolled forward and tucked into his neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses. Despite you being on top of him, he seemed to be everywhere. His body encompassed yours like a weighted blanket. Arms snaked around you to keep you close, as if you had any intention of furthering yourself from the pleasure he was giving you. “Javi,” his name lingered on your lips, singing two syllables that had never sounded so sweet. “I’m gonna come,” you gasped into his neck, closing your mouth and suckling gently on his skin.

He smiled and licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of your mouth on his neck. Anything to not give in to the feeling of your anatomy squeezing him within an inch of his life. He didn’t need you to tell him you were close; he could tell. “I feel it. Feel you pulling me deeper,” he lowered his head closer to your ear, his arm doing most of the work to keep your body in its steady rhythm, thrusting along him. “Go on, soak me. Give me your best,”

“Javi, Javi,” you panted. Then quickly, your head was pulled away from his neck. Both his hands cupped around your cheeks, forcing you to look down into his heads. 

You tried to lose the eye contact by squeezing your eyes shut, but Javi shook you to attention. “Let me see those eyes when you come all over me,”

Eyes snapped open, pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. Javi lifted his hips to meet the shifting of your body and that’s when you went rigid. Hands curling into fists and shaking. Your body jerked on top of him, an otherworldly cry erupting through you. He held on tight, leaning over and biting into your shoulder as you continued to tremble through your high. The breath hitched in your throat and it took a few seconds before a new deep lungful air entered your body. By that point, Javier was flexing and shaking beneath you.

“Where–shit–”

He knew you heard him too late. No doubt the throbbing of the pulse in your ears had blocked off the rest of the world. Unable to hear anything over the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins and the shattered cry coming out of your throat. So that by the time you did hear his question, it was too late. And Javi, just as he wasn’t known for his patience, also wasn’t known for his restraint – and yet somehow had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to physically lift you off his member just seconds before he came with a groan; thick spend coating his stomach.

You stared at it, watching the droplets create a line down toward the base of his cock, slaves to gravity. Only when he wrapped a large paw over your thigh and gave it a squeeze, did you blink and look back into his eyes.

“Good?” He asked in the same moment you leaned forward, finding himself face first in your breasts, “hello,” he smirked against your skin and bit into the fleshy mounds.

You squealed, searching blindly in the backseat with your hand before your fingertips found what they’d be looking for. And pulling back, with your free hand latching onto Javi’s hair and giving it a playful tug, you produced a Polaroid camera.

“‘S’that for?” he cocked his head to the side. 

But you didn’t answer him. Just quickly held it up to your eye, peered through the viewfinder and snapped the photo.

“Hey!” He snatched the photo away as it printed, currently just a gray square, waiting for the final image to appear. “What is this? Blackmail? You take pictures of all your conquests,”

You laughed and grabbed the photo right back, placing it in your bra and lowering your shirt. “You’re not that special, Peña,” 

Leaning back while still on his lap to create more distance for the camera, you held it back up to your eye and inspected the frame. This time his face didn’t make the cut, but his chest, down to his stomach still donning his come with his member laid back against it did. Along with your bare thighs straddling him, one of his hands still had real estate on your skin. You snapped that picture, too, and flipped it over to its blank side. With a pen in the center console courtesy of The Tack Room, you wrote your number and handed the picture to Javi.  He was out of your car before the thing had even finished developing. And in the darkness of the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see the image even if it had been. A cigarette was in his mouth by the time you peeled out of the lot, and his nerves were settling with the overhead lights in his car flicking on. That was when he saw just what you’d snapped the second time. Two bodies. Anonymous. His cock rested limp against his stomach. Your legs secured around his hips. And a phone number on the back with the instruction, call me, Peña.

[andrea-lyn]

Master Rec Post - Interview with the Vampire

well, it was inevitable, wasn't it? fourteen recs below for IWTV, primarily Armand/Daniel (any additions will be marked *NEW* in the future)

rock me like the rock of ages by exastris_scientia

The bathroom is the nastiest place Daniel has ever set foot in. Nothing but the word derelict comes to mind when he shuts the door, but not all the way because the hinges are sticky and squeak like hell when he moves the door, and he doesn’t want to get trapped in here and need Louis to come rescue him. Two of Daniel's personal interludes with Louis and Armand during the first interview, 1973. Any conclusions he reaches, he keeps to himself.

no devils evict themselves to the point of permanence by JanuaryWonder

Armand vowed not to listen in on Daniel's thoughts when he came to Dubai, but some still seep through the crevices in the wall he's erected around his mind. Or, the one in which Daniel remembers bits and pieces of a Devil's Minon-esque history with Armand and decisions need to be made, written from Armand's POV.

Bumblebee Mouth by Voidfavors

The rising sun bestowed him with a halo, and Daniel had to wonder about Armand’s flair for the dramatic. The spectacle he created was enough to make Daniel’s heart skip a beat. An attempt to bridge the gap between Devil's Minion and the AMC canon.

platform double suede by inthebelltower

Armand and Daniel pick up a third.

Garbage Island Utopia. by sunshineramblings

Daniel & Armand buy a house on Staten Island after leaving Dubai. Based off that commercial. You know the one.

Old Pains by EllaStorm

"It wasn’t a conscious decision, really, why would he make the conscious decision to move back towards the danger, the wounded, enraged, clawed, fanged danger, it wasn’t reasonable, it wasn’t cautious, it was – genuinely, just as fucking stupid as putting a needle in his vein and shooting himself to the moon for the first time in 1970 after that fucking Rolling Stones concert." In the aftermath of Louis’ swift departure to New Orleans, Daniel is left alone in the Dubai penthouse in Armand’s presence.

so ascends the flame by MountainsToRivers

Three scenes in Dubai, from Louis' departure to Daniel's turning. Armand had watched Louis leave. He was still on the floor, covered in dust, where Louis had thrown him—shape twisted at an almost unnatural angle, staring through the doorway, into the light. "You just had to keep pushing." He said it softly, amber eyes still unnervingly bright as they flicked to Daniel at last.

in the detail(s) by infinitevariety

A turning point. Immediately post-s2.

wake up missing me by dustyloves

"Yeah, congratulations," Daniel says. "You tortured me and my dick liked it, and I have to live with that forever. Are you proud?" "A little," Armand acknowledges.

bloodlust by mechup

Daniel hadn’t realized killing would be so exhilarating.

gibson girl by flowermasters

“Dark hair, slim build,” Armand said, feeling as if speaking might be the only thing keeping him from falling back asleep, from letting the boy go, from plunging into the blackened despair in the other room. “Small breasts, given her frame.” “Clinical,” the boy said. “Nice.”

care and keeping by katplanet (Currently a WIP, but def already worth the read!)

Louis shakes his head. “And now he's got you stepping on him.” Daniel picks his drink up and necks the last half of it. “I have not,” he says, “stepped on him, as of yet.” “But you want to.” “I think so?” Daniel puts the empty glass back on the table and scoots it out of their immediate limb radius. “I think I could want to. I want to want to.” “There you go,” Louis says, “tell him that. That'll set the mood.”

give the dog a treat before you take him out back and shoot him by shrek2enjoyer

Later, Daniel will struggle to remember what he sees in this moment. He might recall the vampire lunging at him, aiming for his neck with teeth ready to bite. In the late hazy nights where his mind holds less inhibition, he may think that the vampire was reaching for his shoulders, trying to find something to grab hold of so that he wouldn’t fall. On exactly one occasion he’ll contemplate the idea that the vampire was leaning in for a kiss. He will immediately discard the thought as proof that he needs to lower his dopamine prescription.

i'm old enough to face the dawn by exastris_scientia

The living room is dark and silent behind him, so he feels relatively secure in fishing the half-empty pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t like to smoke in front of people as a general rule, since he almost never feels like explaining that technically he hasn’t been a smoker since 2005, he just keeps them around for especially stressful occasions. And this week has been the most stressful one he’s experienced since he got his Parkinson’s diagnosis. “I can’t say I’d recommend that,” Armand says smoothly from the space beside his elbow. Daniel jumps. “Jesus Christ. How long have you been lurking there like Nosferatu?”

[harpieisthecarpie]

Harp's way too long "interpreting Jayvik as a queer rework of Judas & Jesus" ramble (BASS BOOSTED)

Okay so I have a ramble about jayvik's jesus/judas parallels that was inspired by the acoustic vers of JUDAS by The Reverent Marigold (amazing trans nb artist pls listen) and a mutual I'll tag in a reblog bc this is LONG

But this particular song is one I hold close to my heart (and project onto my favorite stories) bc it's a fundamentally compassionate reading of a biblical figure who is viewed as anathema by believers for a fate he never even had the chance to change.

To skip my kinda long Judas preface ramble go to the next orange text

Jesus forsees Judas's betrayal, he lets it happen. Yet Judas has become a reviled figure for being the catalyst of Jesus's transcendence from prophet to Christian deity.

Jesus had to be betrayed, he had to "die for our sins", and he had to fall so he could ascend. He could not be the redeemer without his betrayer.

Yet Judas, who is argued to either be destined or hellishly influenced for his betrayal, in my eyes didn't have to betray Jesus with a kiss. An emotional gesture, whether romantic or familial or platonic or whatever.

There was a gesture of devotion even in that act of persecution, and Judas died in despair of his own actions.

Okay this is the jayvik ur here for

Okay okay this is the part about jayvik, because when everyone was mad over Jayce killing Viktor during the 2nd batch of s2 eps, all I could think about how Viktor had been stuck in a limbo. Half ascendant and half trapped by his mortal form.

Like Christ was Jesus of Nazareth before being the Son of God, s2 Viktor is stuck in the middle of The Scientist and The Herald. Not quite mortal, not fully deity.

Something's gotta give, someone has to hammer the last nail in his coffin (or the crucifix in this instance), someone has to be the Betrayer for Viktor to be the Redeemer. And would we really want it to be anyone other than Jayce?

Would Viktor want it to be anyone other than Jayce? Someone other than his partner, the first man he saved on his path to ascendance. The man killing him with compassion because the Viktor of before had never wanted this.

And it's fascinating to me that within the parallel to Christianity, the differences in Arcane's story give Jayce and Viktor a far more lovely, compassionate ending than Judas and Jesus ever had. At least in the mainstream canon.

It's why I compared jayvik to Rev Mari's JUDAS instead of the basic story. JUDAS's queer themes and Rev Mari's lyricism reframe Judas in a kinder light and humanize Jesus in ways that make me so happy.

Lyric examples:

Because queerness, especially in gender, is so deeply about compassion, and living true to ourselves, and killing what is keeping us from growing into our own identities.

And the fact that Viktor and Jayce, with all their allegorical connections to the Savior and Betrayer, got such a beautiful, transcendent, and queer ending is. Meaningful

Wayyy more analysis under the cut! YAY

go to the next pink if you only want my main conclusion :]

Because Judas's story ended in him taking his own life, and Jayce was given a near rebirth when Viktor saved him from taking his own.

Judas's betrayal was predestined as a tool for Jesus's ascension to Christ the Son, while Jayce's betrayal was that he actively went against Viktor's decision and Viktor's autonomy. When Jayce killed the in-between Viktor he was repenting for that betrayal, and in doing so he was saving himself. In the Christian sense of the word, where Salvation is of the soul.

Only, in the Christian sense of the word, Jayce's salvation would have to come from the Savior. He would be praying for guidance, even if from that in-between Viktor.

But he doesn't put the onus on Viktor to forgive him, he doesn't compromise his devotion to his partner Viktor at the behest of this new Viktor that came from Jayce's betrayal.

When Judas sent Jesus off to die, that was his greatest sin. Jayce's was forcing Viktor to live in spite of Viktor's wishes.

The popular belief is that Judas was condemned to eternal damnation, punishment for a betrayal that Christ needed to ascend. And I think that is the saddest, most hopeless thing in the world.

If Christ couldn't– or wouldn't– save his friend and follower who fell so deep into guilt when his led to Jesus of Nazareth's death that he killed himself, how could anyone trust in their own salvation? If Judas was condemned to rot in Hell when his "loving" deity was done using him, why the fuck would anyone want that Salvation?

pink text indicating the conclusion

So Jayce and Viktor, in this fucking fundamentally queer story, saving each other and knowing each other and finding each other in every fucking reality like their souls could never exist apart is beautiful to me.

Neither of them were the passive objects of the other's Salvation. We know this because Jayce's original betrayal and the Herald's reality shifting "fixes" didn't save the other, nor did those actions condemn themselves.

Neither were helpless, or groveling for "forgiveness", or forced to fundamentally alter who they were at the core in order to be worthy of goodness.

They weren't exactly Jesus of Nazareth and Judas Iscariot, because Jayce and Viktor were written with a fundamentally queer compassion many refuse to apply to their faith.

Neither Jayce nor Viktor were purely Salvation or Forgiveness.

They were better. Jayce and Viktor saved each other, and themselves, when instead of forgiveness they offered acceptence and compassion.

I read it as:

There is nothing to forgive, because there is nothing wrong with you. I'm sorry I tried to change you, there is nothing wrong with you. I will prove in every reality that there is nothing wrong with you.

I found you again, and I'll find you again, because you held my soul so gently your hands left shining, iridescent marks that guide me to you in every reality.

There is no Jayce without Viktor, and no Viktor without Jayce, because they made it so. They chose to be soulmates, in whatever way you want to read it. And that means so much to me.

tl;dr arcane showed us the kinda religion we'd get if they let jesus be trans and have a boyfriend

[epicsteddieficrecs]

Epic Steddie Fic Rec | April 17th-April 23rd 2023

It's a long one this week! I discovered @loveinhawkins and their ficlets as you can see 😆

If you know anyone I haven't tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Complete

🖤 All Night, American Desire by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 4K | Explicit): “Oh my God. Are you telling me I. . . I appropriated a gay cruising spot? Oh my God,” Steve laughs a little frantically. “Robin will–” “Have her best day ever, absolutely,” Eddie replies with a big, obnoxious grin. He holds out the joint to Steve, who shakes his head, then he stubs it out on the sole of his shoe. He puts it back in the baggie, which he shakes a few times and then rolls closed. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s more impressive, that you used the word appropriated or know what cruising is.” (Part 1 of All I'm Saying, Pretty Baby)

🖤 When You're Shaking Your Good Frame by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 5K | Explicit): If, a week ago, someone had told him he was about to have the best sex of his life mainly from Steve Harrington talking, with no penetration, on a Tuesday, he’d have told them to fuck all the way off, take a bus back, and then fuck off again. But he did. They did. And then Steve had to go and say he was going to drive all the way home with a massive boner and spend the rest of the night jerking off thinking about Eddie, because he’s a ridiculous, kinky horndog. (Part 2 of All I'm Saying, Pretty Baby)

🖤 My Fave, Undressing in the Sun by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 9K | Explicit): He tries to soften his features into something less possessed and says: “Eddie and I had sex. Twice.” There is a long, blissful moment of silence that Steve knows is too good to last. “WHAT–” (Part 3 of All I'm Saying, Pretty Baby)

🖤 Cross My Heart, They'll Never Catch Us by IrisLanding/ @onirislanding (Post-S4, PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie was pretty sure his head had been emptied and filled with marshmallows or something because Steve Harrington was sitting on his bed, towel sliding off his hips, holding a bright blue butt plug he'd just magicked out of his bedside drawer. He then produced a fresh bottle of lube packaged as nicely as his shower gel, and started saying something about clothespins. Or, Eddie is falling for Steve but he's hesitant about commitment. Steve thumps him on the head with kink and roleplay.

Cat Scratch Fever by Catt360 (Post-S4, PWP | 7K | Explicit): Post killing Vecna, Steve may have developed a small, minute, teensy-weensy and incredibly inconvenient crush on Eddie “the freak” Munson. He figures that he can just ignore it for long enough and it will go away. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. Alternatively titled: Eddie gets a cat and Steve can’t handle his big gay feelings anymore.

First Discovery by percylicious39 (PWP, BDSM | 2K | Explicit): Steve didn't even know guys could squirt. "The more you learn", as they say. He just wishes he learned about it in any way other than by doing it all over himself.

calm me down by corrodednothing (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie Munson loves having things in his mouth. Especially fingers. Oh, and dicks, of course. or; Eddie and Steve hang out and end up doing the nasty

Come and Turn the Tide by gayhandshake (Modern AU, PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie is laboring under a misapprehension about the nature of his relationship with Steve Harrington.

takes me to the clouds above by merkintosh/ @lurkinmerkin (Post-S2, A/B/O AU | 3K | Explicit): All Eddie had to do was overcharge Steve Harrington for weed, scoot him out of his glade and then continue on with his day. That's not what happened here.

Dial V for Virgin by LexiRoseWrites (No Upside Down, University AU, A/B/O | 8K | Explicit): Rushing a fraternity so his dad will keep paying for college isn’t exactly Steve’s idea of fun. Being required to lose his virginity in order to get a bid from ABΩ somehow makes it even worse. Which is why finding graffiti in a party bathroom that says, “for a good time text Eddie 555-318-7249,” feels like a sign from the universe.

how far he’ll go by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | <1K | Teen): Distantly, Eddie can hear Nancy and Robin tearing up cloth for bandages, but his eyes remain fixed on Steve—and maybe if it was any other kind of situation, his brain would be fixed on Steve Harrington is shirtless in front of me, but right now Steve is lifting up his hand from his side with an awful wet sound, and— “Oh, Christ,” Eddie hisses, feels himself pale. Steve somehow manages an exhausted smirk. “Hey, if you’re gonna throw up, don’t do it all over the hole in my stomach, dude.”

of chocolate frosting and upside down ducks (things worth being scared for) by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | 1K | Teen): “If it makes you feel any better,” Steve says, “I think we all just got so used to it, that—” “Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Eddie interrupts with a huff of a laugh. “If I think about it for too long, I might actually cry for you all, Steve.” “Nah, don’t do that,” Steve says lightly—though he thinks that a part of Eddie really means it. “It’s more like… like I’m a duck, y’know? Calm on the surface, but…” He drums on the table in demonstration. “Freaking out underneath.”

it’s a light and tumble journey by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | 1K | Teen): It’s Dustin who saves Eddie. He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas. So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face. “What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths. Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes.

The Shire’s Storyteller by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 | <1K | General): Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Eddie’s lips twitch into the faint semblance of a smile. It’s very quick, blink and you miss it, before he turns sombre again, looking down at the forest floor. Steve can’t blame the guy; he can’t imagine that he has all that much to smile about. “I just meant,” Dustin says, “that we could use some entertainment.” He jerks his head meaningfully at Eddie—who thankfully still has his head down so he can’t witness this tremendous lack of subtlety—and mouths, You know, a distraction. “And I’m the entertainment guy,” Steve says flatly.

respite (wanna give you forever) by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol. 2 | <1K | General): Steve gestures out to the distance, where the kids are still playing, where Nancy and Robin are re-counting the supplies he’d noted down earlier. “Reckon you’ve got an hour or so, if you wanna get your head down.” Eddie snorts. “Ah, sleep,” he says, with a wry smile. “What’s that?”

like something from the silver screen by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Pre-S3, Canon Divergent | 2K | General): He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside. He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Steve turns his head to him. “What?” Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says. And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had. But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental.

🖤  bled out without a trace by loveinhawkins (Canon Divergent, S4 Vol.2 | 4K | Teen): “You’ll be fine,” Steve says. He discreetly pats at his pockets. Feels the handle of the switchblade. Touches Dustin one last time, a palm across his brow. “Look after him.” “Hey, I—I don’t like your tone, man,” Eddie says. “We’re looking after him, together. Together, all right? Fucking promise me, Harrington.”

can’t bear it alone by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Dustin POV | 8K | Teen): He thinks about the relief in Eddie’s voice when he said he had a hunch about Steve’s whereabouts, like Dustin is the chosen one for understanding what makes Steve tick. Eddie’s joked about it before; he’d called it “sibling telepathy” when Dustin had silently communicated his popcorn order at the movies, and he’d nudged Steve in the ribs when Steve’s nose wrinkled meaning Gross, dude. Then Steve had huffed a laugh, nudging Dustin back. Okay, okay. I’ll pay for it, you little shit. But Eddie gets Steve, too, Dustin thinks; that’s why he called him. And yeah, it’s different than the way Dustin understands Steve, but it’s significant enough for Eddie to make the cut of Steve Harrington Interpreters in Dustin’s mind.

be kind, rewind (and check what’s inside!) by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Pre-S4 | <1K | General): Of course, Steve finds the tape later, because the universe likes to laugh at Eddie, apparently.

and it’s a song you know by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (POV Dustin (1,5K | General): The lyrics are clever, because they hide under metaphor, apocalyptic imagery and all that stuff, but it clicks when Dustin gets to a verse about a tune echoing through a mall, ‘and it’s a song you know, you’ve known it all your life,’ and he’s suddenly thrown back to when he explained how Steve worked out the location of the Russian code, and Eddie was taking it all in, eyes as round as pennies. Dustin sets down the notebook and says, “It’s about us.” It’s not a question.

take me by the hand by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Vol.2 | 1K | Teen): When he’d found the radio in the RV, he had planned on it being a backup to the Walkman, a last resort measure—but the volume is feeble, too temperamental to rely on. Every so often, he can pick up a fraction of a song before static takes over again. A natural lull falls, not uncomfortable, and it’s during that silence when the radio picks up another song: catchy bubblegum pop that Steve vaguely recognises. “Can you turn that up?” Eddie says suddenly. He’s sitting up straighter and there’s an odd look on his face that Steve can’t decipher.

The Vigil by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Post S4 | <1K | General): There’s a movement in the corner of his eye; Eddie stops writing and looks over to see Steve’s head nodding sleepily. He smiles to himself. But then he realises that Steve isn’t falling asleep, not completely: whenever he catches himself drifting off, he jerks, straightens up, before the cycle repeats again. And, every time, his hand moves to his jeans pocket, as if checking for something. It’s not a panicked gesture, not exactly. It’s something more… habitual. Ingrained.  

you’re too young to be lost by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Dustin POV, Post-S4 | 5K | Teen): Dustin knows that as soon as you cut one monster’s head off, another is bound to grow in its place. So when the late Jason Carver’s family and friends move out of Hawkins, he’s secretly glad about it, sure, but he’s not exactly relieved. Rumours are a hard thing to kill.

🖤 why are they watching me? (they're watching you.) by rabbitinrain/ @stargazersteddie (Truman Show AU | 25K | Teen): Eddie Munson lives a normal, comfortable, mildly mundane life in Hawkins. But two new faces in town turn everything he thinks he knows upside-down, and he quickly learns that nothing about Hawkins (or himself, for that matter) is as it seems.

Eddie Munson: 19-year-old Virgin by pterawaters/ @pterawaters (Post-S2, PWP | 4K | Explicit): Eddie turns in his seat, facing Steve as he admits, “I’m a nineteen-year-old virgin. How the hell am I supposed to front a metal band without having done it? I’m holding the whole band back, I know it. They’re not saying anything, but we all know they’re thinking it.” “Right,” Steve says, thinking the virgin thing does seem at odds with the rest of his persona. “So, you’re here to ask which girl you should go after? I mean, Wendy’s usually up for anything. Lydia might be more your style, though.” “Steve,” he says, putting his hand on Steve’s wrist. “I don’t want to ask out a girl. I want you to fuck me.”

Every Single Time by AidaRonan/ @aidaronan (Post-S4 | 2K | Teen): Eddie and Steve haven't talked about it yet. What they are. What they want to be. On Hawkins' Senior Bonfire Night, maybe they will.

Dear Harrington by IndigoFudge (Major Character Death | 3K | General): Steve weeps. That’s the only word to describe it. His chest aches and aches, burning with words that he never got to say. He presses the vest to his lips. It smells like smoke, like sweat, like blood - though Steve supposes a little of that is his. Love, he thinks again, and the word feels like home. • Steve finds a letter that Eddie wrote to him.

for everything I long to do (it's a, it's a, it's a, it's a sin) by stellarpoint (pettifogger)/ @letterfromvienna (Will POV, Post S4 | 3K | Teen): Will wakes up early after a sleepover at the Harrington house. He sees something in the kitchen he wasn't meant to see, which prompts the realization that he might not be as alone as he thought.

WIP

🖤 better by you, better than me by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Canon Divergent, Season 1-2 | 28/? | 147K | Mature | Warning: Violence): November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realizes. / or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.

🖤 nothing but the dead and dying by loveinhawkins (Canon Divergent, S4 Vol. 2 | 22/? | 61K | Teen): Steve sighs, like he’s trying to laugh but he can’t quite manage it. “I’m sorry, man,” he says too lightly, “gonna need you to drive for a bit. I know it’s not part of the plan, but hey.” He gets out a laugh now, but all it does is set Eddie’s teeth on edge. “Henderson said you’re good at—what’s it called, in your game? Improv?” And Eddie hates it, hates how soft Steve’s voice is, hates how the conversation is so clearly a distraction, a last ditch attempt at protection from… he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. - In the RV, Vecna’s curse changes course.

🖤 Swing and a Miss by deadonarrival (Baseball Player Steve, Fake Relationship | 4/5 | 29K | Explicit): “Apparently they usually reserve the box for the wives and girlfriends … so either you’re gonna have to be my boyfriend or you’re going to have to sit in the stands with the fans. It’s not that bad, you just need to like, pretend to be my boyfriend so you can sit with the other WAGs and like, then you can be in the box and have all you can drink alcohol and snacks.” “Did you agree to this!?” Eddie asks. “If I say yes, how mad are you going to be?” Steve asks.

🖤 Reboot by plutosrose/ @plutosrose (Modern AU, Actor Steve & Eddie | 6/10 | 23K | Explicit): In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3. By early 2013, they aren’t speaking anymore. In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update–his character gets together with Eddie’s.

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind) by LexiRoseWrites (Modern AU, A/B/O, Actor Steve | 4/10 | 15K | Explicit): Online dating and scent-matching are used by desperate people who want to find their soulmate, but will settle for a compatible partner. Steve is more worried about what he’s going to say in his acceptance speech for the Oscars. He doesn’t need romance, he needs to prove his parents wrong. And besides, masquerading as an alpha for his entire acting career has worked great thus far. Why risk losing everything he’s accomplished over something he’s getting by just fine without?

[joshdiaz]

here is your humble offering, obliterated and broken in the mouth of this abandoned church.

@nolanhollogay @witchofinterest

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter seven

fic 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 it. it would be fine. everything was great.

word count; 19k

warnings; the possibly triggering scene from the show with Jackson being creepy in the locker room, slight gore maybe?, eventual explicit sexual content, oral sex (both m and f), fluff fluff and more fluff

chapter notes; the group tries to figure out who's been controlling jackson all this time. ben davis makes a brief return as my own personal plot device. stiles is his typically over-dramatic self and amber is, as usual, super into it.

masterlist

c h a p t e r s e v e n

restraint

Amber's nerves had her nearly dropping her phone to the floor of her car as she climbed behind the wheel while simultaneously trying to get ahold of Stiles. Fingers of her free hand fumbled over the touchscreen, already turning her key in the ignition as the call began to ring through. Stiles was answering before the first trill through the speaker had even finished sounding out, his voice frantic.

"Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?" He shouted through the speaker, the pitch of his voice higher than normal.

"Is Scott still with you?" She asked immediately, taking the turn off of her street a touch too quickly than was probably good for her tires, "Because I was just with Lydia and-"

"Jackson escaped." Scott's voice supplied through the phone.

"He what?" Amber squeaked, letting off the clutch to shift gears and increase the speed of the car that much more, "Guys he's not-"

"Yeah, he got out and the asshole went straight to the police," Stiles told her, "His dad's here and my dad's pissed and Scott's mom is on her way down to the station."

"You guys are at the station?" She cursed, slamming on the breaks so she could make a messy three point turn and backtrack in the direction of the Sheriff's station.

"Yeah, and we're totally screwed," Stiles was telling her as she reoriented her car in the right direction, "My dad said the Whittemore's are filing a restraining order against Scott and I. As soon as Scott's mom gets here my dad has to read out the terms and-"

"Stiles!" Amber interrupted sharply, "That sucks but it's not important right now, okay? Lydia translated part of the kanima entry from the bestiary-"

"How'd she do that?" Scott cut in.

"She knows Archaic Latin, Scott. Now shut up and listen to me," Amber snapped as she turned onto the next street, "Mrs. Morrell translated it wrong! The kanima doesn't seek a friend, alright? The kanima seeks a master! Which means someone's controlling Jackson-"

"Woah, what?" Stiles exclaimed through the speaker.

"Stiles, you said that Jackson still didn't believe you when you were explaining everything to him earlier, right?" She asked, shifting gears as she went around a sharp corner.

"Yeah, pretty much." Stiles agreed.

"Well, so- If Jackson doesn't know what he's doing then he must not know someone's even controlling him." Amber deduced.

"Or he doesn't remember." Scott supplied.

"What if it's the same kinda thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?" Stiles questioned.

"Right!" Amber recalled, "Like a fugue state-"

Scott's voice came through the phone again, "But then he'd have to forget everything.. The murder-"

"Getting rid of all the blood-" Amber offered up, an image flashing behind her eyes of Jackson's bloodied body at the nightclub. She thought of how he would've had to have washed the blood away himself after he'd killed Tucker, and Isaac's dad, and then the hunter-

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, "He had help with one thing though.. The video. Someone else helped him forget that." He reminded them of the erased footage.

"Whoever's controlling him." Scott said quietly.

The tires of Amber's car squealed quietly in protest as she peeled into the parking lot at the station and jerked to a slightly crooked stop between the painted white lines.

"Jackson thinks that being with Lydia somehow made him immune and, like, delayed the whole werewolf bite thing-" Amber told them, throwing herself from the vehicle and nearly falling to the pavement in her haste to slam the door shut behind her, "Where exactly are you guys?"

"What d'you mean?" Stiles asked in confusion as Amber pushed the front door to the station open, "I told you we're down at the station-"

"Yeah, so am I," She panted slightly, adrenaline still pumping in her veins from the wild drive from her house, "So where are you guys?"

She let her phone drop from her ear to her shoulder as she stepped up to the door that led to the interrogation rooms, only to find the door locked, the handle stiff and unmoving when she jiggled it. She turned to cast an incredulous look at the female deputy who was watching her from behind the front desk and Amber gestured wildly at the door with her free hand.

"Tara, I know you recognize me," Amber said in exasperation, "C'mon, buzz me in-"

Tara frowned, slowly eyeing the girl's frazzled state, but pressed her finger down on the button to unlock entry into the hallway. Amber sighed gratefully as she rushed through, nearly running straight into Stiles' chest when she stepped into the hall at the same time that he and Scott stumbled out of the room at the front end of the corridor.

"Jesus!" She exclaimed in surprise as her boyfriend's hands came up to steady her.

She abandoned her phone completely, ending the call and shoving it into her pocket as she looked at her best friends.

"We need to find out who's controlling him." Scott quietly continued their conversation from before.

"D'you think he'll talk to us?" Amber questioned, "I mean.. After what we did? Kidnapping him and all?"

Stiles shrugged, "Yeah, it's us. He'll talk to us," He nodded before catching Amber's unsure frown, "..Right?"

It was at that moment that Sheriff Stilinski stepped out from a room further down the hall and cast a disappointed look at the three teens.

"Scott, your mom just pulled in. So, you boys get your asses into this room," He said firmly, "Now."

Stiles and Scott lowered their heads and followed the order, moving down the hall and into the larger interrogation room. Ms. McCall hurried past Amber only a moment later and the girl immediately moved to follow but Sheriff Stilinski held up a hand in signal for her to stop.

"No." He said simply.

Amber spluttered, taking another aborted step forward, "Wh- But- If I could just-"

"This doesn't concern you," He told her firmly before raising his eyebrows in question, "Does it?"

"Um.. No?" She told him cautiously.

"Then you stay out here." He said, giving her a serious look before moving into the room himself, leaving the door into the hallway open behind him.

Amber moved to the edge of the doorway, attempting to listen closely to what was going on just on the other side of the wall. Ms. McCall hovered at the edge of the room, her arms crossed over the scrub top she was still wearing after having rushed down to the station straight from work.

"Scott. Stiles. This is going to apply to both of you, so listen to me very closely," The Sheriff said in a stern voice, "You will not go within fifty feet of Jackson Whittemore. You will not speak to him.. You will not approach him.. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically."

"What about school?" Stiles questioned immediately.

His father sighed, "You both can attend classes while attempting to maintain a fifty foot distance."

Amber shook her head, unsure how such a thing was possible when they shared so many classes with the other boy in addition to lacrosse.

"Bu- Okay, what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time-" Stiles started, words rambling together quickly as Amber clenched her eyes shut and silently willed him to stop talking while he continued, "-And there's only two stalls available, and those two stalls are right next to each other?"

There was a brief silence and Amber brought her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"-I'll just hold it." Stiles said quietly after a few moments.

A few minutes later, Stiles' father was leading him out of the room with a hand fisted in the collar of the boy's sweatshirt, "Do I need to remind you how lucky we are that they're not pressing charges?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Oh, come on! It was a joke!" Stiles attempted to justify their actions.

Amber had to physically fight the urge to press the palm of her hand against her forehead in vexation.

"It was a joke?" Sheriff Stilinski repeated incredulously.

"Yes!" Stiles agreed quickly, "I didn't think it would be taken this seriously. Dad, humor's very subjective, okay? We're talking, like, multiple levels of interpretation here."

His father's gaze cut to Amber and she stepped forward slowly as if pulled by the weight of his glare.

"You and Stiles have a pretty similar sense of humor," Sheriff Stilinski pointed out, "How would you interpret the situation? You think it was funny?" He questioned sternly.

"I, um.." She bit down on her lip as her eyes bounced between her boyfriend and his father, "Not.. Not wildly funny."

'Traitor' Stiles motioned with his lips silently, shaking his head at her cowardice under his father's attention.

"Uh huh," Sheriff Stilinski looked between them with narrowed eyes for a moment before refocusing on his son, "Well, uh, how exactly am I supposed to interpret the stolen prison transport van, huh?"

Stiles spluttered, hands waving around wildly, "We filled the tank!"

His father raised his hands with a deep breath as he stepped away, removing himself from the conversation entirely with a shake of his head and leaving the two of them alone in the narrow hall.

"A prank?" Amber hissed, landing a hard punch to her boyfriend's shoulder, "You told them it was a prank?"

"What? Like you had a better excuse lined up?" He questioned while he rubbed at the sore spot on his arm. Amber's face pinched as she tried to quickly come up with something and Stiles nodded at her after a few seconds of silence, "Yeah, that's what I thought, smartass."

Her eyes narrowed at his words, "You are infuriating sometimes, y'know that?" She muttered quietly.

Stiles' lips pulled into a slow grin, his cheek dimpling as his eyes flicked over her frustrated expression. He noted the way she'd petulantly crossed her arms before his gaze trailed back up to her face, "Infuriating in a way that kinda makes you wanna kiss me to shut me up?" He questioned in quiet optimism.

She glared despite the flutter in her stomach at his words, "No."

Stiles took a step closer, his palms dragging softly up and down over her upper arms, "You sure? Because I could keep saying infuriating things if that'll-"

"Move!" Ms. McCall yelled at her son sharply as she shoved him out of the interrogation room and they stepped out into the hall, "It's not just this. Although, a restraining order is a new low that I didn't think you would reach quite this soon." She scolded loudly.

Amber and Stiles both winced as Scott followed closely behind his mother, the family unit walking a few steps past where the couple had been loitering.

"-It's everything on top of it!" Ms. McCall continued, spinning around to face her son with a disappointed look, "The completely bizarre behavior, the late nights coming home, having to beg Mr. Harris to let you make up that Chemistry test that you missed-"

"I missed a Chemistry test?" Scott questioned in genuine confusion.

"Really, Scott? Really?" His mother shook her head with a deep sigh, "I- I have to ground you. I'm grounding you. You.. Are grounded."

Amber blinked in surprise. She couldn't remember a single time in their lives when Scott's mom had been angry enough with him to do such a thing. He'd been punished, sure – lots of times – but never to the point of a grounding.

"What about work?" Scott questioned immediately.

"Fine. Other than work." His mother acquiesced, "And no TV." She added as an afterthought.

Scott merely shrugged, "My TV's broken."

Amber shook her head silently and tried to catch his eye, pleading for her best friend to shut up.

"Then no computer." Ms. McCall said easily.

"..I need the computer for school." Scott said slowly.

His mother's face pinched in annoyance, "Then no, uh.." Her gaze drifted over Scott's shoulder, eyes catching on her son's best friends. Her face seemed to light up with an idea, "No Stiles and no Amber."

Amber squeaked in protest, "Wh-"

"No Stiles?" Stiles repeated, voice high.

"No! No Stiles! No Amber!" Ms. McCall repeated with more authority than before, looking back to her son again, "And no more car privileges. Give me your key-"

Scott reared a small step back in response to his mother's words, "But-"

"Give 'em to me!" Ms. McCall snapped.

Scott pulled his keyring from the pocket of his jeans and handed it over weakly. The three teens all watched his mother pulled frantically at the split ring, trying to separate the pieces enough to slip the car key off of the loop with clumsy fingers and working herself up further the more that she struggled.

"Oh, for the love of God." Ms. McCall muttered with a frustrated sniffle.

Scott reached out toward her with caution, "Mom, do you want me to-"

"No." His mother snapped.

"Mom, come on. Just let me- Mom!" Scott pleaded, his hand wrapping around her shaking ones to grip the keys, "Mom."

Ms. McCall sniffled again and Amber took a small step back, her knuckles knocking lightly against Stiles' before he tangled their fingers together wordlessly.

"What is going on with you?" Ms. McCall asked quietly, "Is this about Allison?"

Scott turned his head to shoot his friends a pleading look and Amber instinctively chewed at her lower lip, knowing exactly how badly Scott wanted to come clean about all of the supernatural crap that had suddenly infiltrated their lives.

"Do you really wanna know?" Scott asked his mom slowly.

Stiles began to shake his head vehemently at Scott as Ms. McCall begged her son to explain what his problem was. Scott looked to his friends desperately once more and Amber gave him a small shrug as Stiles continued to silently display his disapproval.

"-Is this about your dad?" Ms. McCall asked weakly.

The question seemed to catch him off guard and Scott was still trying to decide on his next words when his mom continued.

"It is, isn't it?" Her gaze caught on Amber and Stiles still hovering just a few feet away and her posture straightened up with a final sniffle, "Okay, you know what? Um, we'll talk about this at home. I'm- I'm gonna go get the car."

They all watched her go with varying expressions of dismay and Scott waited until the door at the end of the hallway sealed shut with a click before turning to face his friends fully.

"I'm the worst son ever." Scott said with a shattered look.

"Well, I'm not exactly winning any prizes either." Stiles countered easily.

"It's gonna be okay," Amber assured them, her voice coming out sounding less firm than she'd intended, "It- It is gonna be okay, right?" She asked after a moment as she looked between them anxiously.

Stiles wrapped his arm around her neck, their joined hands coming up to rest at her shoulder as he pulled her into his chest, words muffled slightly in her hair, "Yeah. Yeah, everything's gonna be fine."

Upon arriving home, Amber was entirely surprised to find her brother standing in their living room. His shift had only started at the fire station a few hours before, so she wasn't expecting to see him for another eighteen hours, but he was currently dragging his feet across the hardwood restlessly as he paced back and forth across the space.

His attention snapped up at the sound of the front door closing as Amber dropped her keys onto the table in the entryway, his face pinching in a tight frown the moment his gaze found her.

"Jase..?" She asked cautiously as she toed off her shoes, "Is uh, is everything okay?"

"Get in here. And sit." He demanded, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the couch.

"Okay.." She said slowly, stepping into the room, "What's-"

"Amber Evangeline Callisto-"

The girl's eyes widened at the use of her full name, something she was nearly certain she hadn't heard in a scolding since their mother had been alive.

"-Sit. Down." Jason finished sternly, the volume of his voice was wholly surprising and Amber's butt landed on the couch immediately.

"I- Um, I'm going to take a wild guess from the fact that you're, y'know, here, and the deeply pissed off look on your face.. And assume that Sheriff Stilinski called you?" She pulled her socked feet up underneath herself on the cushions nervously, eyes focused on her brother's stiff jaw as he clenched it in anger.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as he looked around the room and neither confirmed nor denied her assumtion, "Am I supposed to confiscate your phone and take away your car keys?" He questioned frantically, "Lock you in your bedroom and just.. Homeschool you? Is that what it's gonna take to keep your ass out of trouble, or what?"

She balked, "I- I'm not even in trouble! Jackson only filed for restraining orders against-"

"If you honestly think that I am gonna believe you didn't have anything to do with this so-called 'joke' your knucklehead best friends pulled-" He took an angry breath that sounded loudly through his nose, "Do you think that I'm stupid? Or just insanely fucking unobservant?"

"Well, I -"

"Amber, I am fucking trying here, okay?" His voice cracked and Amber felt a little like her heart might have cracked too as she watched her brother's internal struggle, "I feel like I'm just watching you kids spiral out of control and I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it-"

"You don't- You're not doing anything wrong-"

"Well clearly I am!" He yelled suddenly. His own shout seemed to catch him off guard and he sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of her with a sigh, "I- I don't know what I'm doing. It's been four years and I still feel like I'm fucking drowning sometimes, trying to be your parent and your brother at the same time."

"I'm sorry." She spoke quietly, her voice thick with unshed tears as her eyes welled.

"I don't want you to apologize. I want you to stop getting into trouble.. To stop showing up at all of these crime scenes, and inserting yourself into murder investigations, and-"

"I- I don't know what to say." She admitted quietly as a few tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks.

Even she were to try and explain, Amber didn't know where she could possibly start.

She could start with Derek; how he'd come back into town and started showing up everywhere all suspicious-like before revealing that he was a werewolf and that Scott was no longer her sweet best friend, but instead, a genuine danger to be around. She could tell him about Peter; explain that he hadn't been as weak and incapacitated as everyone had initially thought and that, really, this whole thing had all started with him. She could mention how Allison's family played into it all; the heinous things her aunt had done before her demise and all of the things her father and grandfather were still a part of now. She could tell her brother about all of the new teenage werewolves running around town and the murderous rampage her classmate had unknowingly undertaken and okay, yes, she'd helped kidnap him but they'd had no other choice because Jackson was seriously dangerous and he didn't even know what he was doing-

Amber couldn't find it in her to voice any of those things, however. Instead, she gnawed on her lower lip and sniffled quietly as she guiltily avoided her brother's gaze, settling back into the couch with the acceptance that the evening was only destined to get more difficult.

"Did Lydia finish translating the entry about the kanima?" A hushed voice questioned from only a few inches behind Amber, causing the girl to flinch in surprise.

"Jesus," Amber exclaimed as she spun around, locker door slamming shut when her shoulder collided with the cool metal, "A bell. You need a bell."

Allison rolled her eyes with a fond smile and crossed her arms over her chest, "Well? Did she?"

With a nod of her head, Amber pulled a crisp, brand new composition notebook from her bag and held it out toward the other girl.

"She did. I went over first thing this morning to get it. She's, uh, pretty annoyed with us, but she did it."

Allison studied the words on the pages with determined focus for a few moments before pulling a tablet from her own bag and motioning for Amber to hold the journal for her. Amber dutifully held her arms out to display the pages, flipping through them slowly as Allison photographed the information to create a digital copy.

"Have you shown Scott or Stiles yet?" Allison asked as she finished.

Amber slapped the book shut and slipped it back into her bookbag with a shake of her head, "I was on my way now. They're waiting in the library."

"I'll come with you." Allison said easily, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag and moving in the direction of the library while still studying the photographs she'd taken of the notebook pages.

As they pushed through the double-doors, Amber's eyes peered through the spaces between bookshelves, flicking over the students spread out at tables trying to finish up last minute assignments before the start of morning classes.

She toyed with her lower lip between her teeth as she searched for her best friends and when she finally spotted them, Scott and Stiles were tucked at the back of one of the stacks having a hushed conversation. As she approached, hand absentmindedly dragging over her boyfriend's shoulder and up to his neck, her fingertips dug into his skin softly as she stepped up beside them.

Her backpack hit the ground at the base of the bookshelf and their attention turned to her, Stiles' eyebrows raising a fraction as he took her in for the first time that morning.

"Hello," He greeted with emphasis, reaching out until the backs of his fingers could skim over the soft material of her sundress, "You're looking spring-y."

He pinched the hem between his thumb and forefinger, his knuckles brushing against the smooth skin of her bare thigh as he idly rubbed at the fabric.

"Thanks," She said somewhat breathlessly. Her own hand dropped to wrap lightly around his wrist in warning and she waited until he let the skirt fall back down against her legs before she continued, "I, uh, I'm trying to manifest warmer weather or something."

His lips pulled into a small smile and she felt slightly overwhelmed by the butterflies that bloomed in her stomach.

"Well, you look really beautiful." He told her softly.

"Can you guys be disgusting later?" Scott interjected in clear impatience.

The couple flinched as they were torn from the romance-heady bubble they'd somehow managed to slip into.

Amber was quick to recover and she laced her fingers with Stiles as her eyes narrowed in Scott's direction, "You're just jealous because of the whole Romeo and Juliet thing that means you can't flirt with your girlfriend unless it's in a dark creepy corridor or, like, a janitor's closet-"

"Ha," Stiles said in amusement, seconding her assessment, "What she said. The green monster's not a great look on you, buddy-"

A soft throat clearing from the other side of the bookshelf caught Amber's attention and she spotted Allison peering through a gap from the next aisle over.

"Lydia's translations.." Allison prompted gently as she pulled a book from the shelf and pretended to look at it in interest.

"Right, yeah," Amber nodded, "So Lydia gave me her translations this morning. She was up pretty late last night writing it all down for me-"

"Apparently she's not thrilled about still being left in the dark." Allison supplied quietly, sliding her tablet through the gap in books so that Scott and Stiles could peer down at the photographs she'd taken of the translated pages.

"Oh, yeah," Scott realized as his gaze found Amber, "What'd you tell her?"

Amber winced, rolling her shoulders and tightening her fingers around Stiles' hand, "Um, I'm only about thirty percent confident she bought it.. But I, uh- I told her we were a part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

Stiles perked up, "I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." He said quietly, the words fanning out over his girlfriend's neck as he peered down at the tablet.

A breathy laugh slipped from her lips and she knocked her hip against his lightly, "Yeah, I know. I helped you figure out that part with the evil goblins, remember?"

"They were actually gnomes." Stiles corrected immediately.

Scott was shaking head at his friends in clear exasperation, "Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling Jackson?" He questioned in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

"Not from what I read." Allison frowned, swapping the book in her hands for another as she tried to hide the fact that she was conversing with them.

"But Stiles was right about the murderers." Amber revealed.

"Yes!" He cheered excitedly, dropping his girlfriend's hand to punch the air at the small victory.

Scott and Allison both narrowed their eyes at him for his slightly too loud reaction and his hands slowly lowered under the weight of their glare. Amber shuffled closer as he deflated and his arm slipped beneath her cardigan to wrap around her waist, pulling her into his side as she continued to share the information she'd recently obtained.

"The bestiary calls the kanima a 'weapon of vengeance'," She recited quietly, "There's a story in there about this South American priest who used the kanima to execute murderers in his village-"

"Alright, see?" Stiles interrupted, "That's not so bad."

Amber leaned more heavily against him with a grimace, "-Until their bond grew so strong that it eventually just killed whoever he wanted it to. Murderer or not." She finished.

"All bad," Stiles backtracked, "All very, very bad."

"Thing is, though-" Amber continued quietly, dragging her finger lightly over a sentence displayed on the tablet, "The kanima's actually supposed to be a werewolf. But, it can't be until-"

"'Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it.'" Scott read aloud.

"Okay, if that means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself." Stiles said with a roll of his eyes.

Amber sighed, "Yeah, no shit. The guy's basically unresolved anger and toxic masculinity all wrapped up in a stupidly handsome bow-"

"Euck, handsome?" Stiles repeated with a displeased frown.

"Oh, be quiet," She scolded him, turning in his grip to brush her lips lightly over the corner of his mouth, "You're the most handsome." She whispered quietly against his cheek.

With a satisfied huff, Stiles slid his arm up around her shoulders to tug her back against his chest, releasing his exhale into the loose waves of her hair to hide his grin.

"What if it has to do with Jackson's parents?" Allison pondered, "He's adopted, right? So maybe its something to do with his real parents."

Scott nodded in agreement, "Does anybody actually know what happened to them?" He questioned, eyes flicking to Amber curiously as he spoke.

"I mean.. I know he never really knew them. He was adopted as a baby. Like, really young, I'm pretty sure-" She said slowly, face pinched up in thought, "But, I- Lydia might know more."

"Great," Stiles nodded, "You guys talk to Lydia and Scott and I'll talk to Jackson-"

"Nope. Not gonna work." Amber interrupted with a shake of her head. "Restraining order." She reminded him.

He sighed in annoyance, "God, fine. Then what-"

"During free period, you go talk to Lydia," She told Stiles, "Allison and I will team up to talk to Jackson. And Scott-" The boy in question looked at her with wide eyes, ready for whatever job his best friend was about to dole out, "Scott's gonna go and ace his Chem make-up test."

He made a face like he was going to argue but his girlfriend cut in quickly.

"Scott, she's right." Allison said softly, reaching through the gap in the bookshelf to take Scott's hand.

He sighed in reluctance, "If he does anything, you both run the other way." He said seriously, looking back and forth between the two girls.

"We can take care of ourselves." Allison whispered with a frown.

"I'm serious," Scott whispered, "If either one of you gets hurt while I'm taking some stupid test, someone's gonna need to take care of me," His jaw clenched, hand tightening around Allison's as his eyes continued to bounce between them, "If he does anything-"

Amber scoffed, "Like-?"

"Anything.. Weird. Bizarre. Anything-"

"Anything evil." Stiles interrupted finally, arm tightening around his girlfriend.

"We'll be fine," Amber told both boys, "This is serious, okay? If either of you guys get in trouble for breaking the restraining order, it could mean serious, like, legal consequences. And, Scott, You know you need to retake this test to bring your grade up." She said firmly.

Scott groaned but nodded, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders as they all slowly broke away from one another and filed out of the library.

"We, uh.. We're totally sure it's safe for you and Allison to be talking to Jackson alone?" Stiles worried privately as they stopped in front of his locker.

"We'll be fine," She assured him in a soft voice, "And besides, it's kind of our only option right now-"

"Yeah. Because those are reassuring words." Stiles muttered sarcastically, yanking his locker open to grab his books for English.

"Okay, worry wort. I'm pretty sure we've established that he doesn't actually want to kill any of us," She reminded him as he slammed the metal door shut again, "I mean, if he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead like three times over at this point, right?"

His face scrunched in clear reluctance to agree with her, "Yeah, I guess."

She reached out to cup the side of his face, her thumb skimming over the tiny constellation of moles that created a path toward his mouth. The tip of her finger had barely brushed the corner of his lips when Stiles leaned in to press them to her own in a quick kiss.

As they finally turned to head in the direction of the English classroom, they only managed to get a few steps from Stiles' locker before a familiar voice was calling out loudly behind them.

"Stilinski! Amber! Wait, I- Hold up!"

They both turned as there was a loud crash. Ben Davis slammed his shoulder into the lockers beside them in what both looked and sounded like a painful collision. He rubbed at his shoulder with a frown as he righted himself and looked between Amber and Stiles wide-eyed.

"Davis," Stiles greeted with a wince, "Listen, if this is about the ball that almost hit you in the junk this morning at practice, you should know that I haven't perfected my backhand and I swear it was-"

Ben shook his head in surprise, "What? No. Stilinski, you're fine." He assured the other boy before turning his attention toward Amber, "I actually, really need to talk to you, if that's cool-"

She frowned at the urgency in his voice and began to step forward when Stiles pulled her back with a hand fisted in her cardigan.

"And what exactly do you need to talk to my girlfriend about?" Stiles questioned suspiciously.

"I, uh-" Ben's gaze flicked between them nervously, "Just.. A thing?"

Amber held up a finger in a signal for Ben to give her a moment and spun around to face Stiles, stepping close to give them more privacy as she spoke, "Stiles. Babe, I'll catch up with you in a few?" She whispered in question.

His eyes flicked between her and the spot over her shoulder where Ben was standing behind her and a small noise of distress slipped past her boyfriend's lips.

"But he-" When Amber brought a hand up to rest on his shoulder, he continued in a whisper of his own, "I could stay.. Just as backup, y'know. In case you need me. In case he tries to make a move or-"

Ben's snort of laughter from behind her let them know that he'd heard the hushed comment.

"Dude, when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about between me and Amber-" Ben started in amusement, "I am very, like, keenly aware of how into you she is. I know we went on a date but I mean, she literally said-"

Amber could tell that he was only a second away from bringing up her embarrassing slip of tongue at the end of their tragic date the month before and she turned her head to shoot him a warning glare, causing Ben's words to cut off sharply. When she deemed it safe, she turned back to Stiles again.

"You're sweet and it is stupidly cute, but you really don't need to worry about Ben, alright?" She said even more quietly.

Stiles' lips pulled up reluctantly, "Yeah, okay."

She couldn't hold back a grin, endlessly endeared by his protectiveness. She leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips before giving him a pat on his cheek, "Okay, cool. So I'll catch up with you later then."

Stiles pinched her chin between his forefinger and thumb to tip her head back up again and she went easily. Their lips met in another kiss, this one lingering for a moment before she pushed him away with a flustered laugh.

"Alright, I'm going!" Stiles said, raising his hands in surrender as he turned to leave.

When she turned to face Ben again, she was still sporting a faint blush and giddy smile that wouldn't seem to fade.

"So, what's up? What's the gossip?" She joked, hoping to lighten the mood when she noticed the stressed expression on his face once again.

"I wanted to talk to you about Matt." He said in a hushed voice.

"Daehler?" She asked curiously, frowning when he nodded, "What about him?"

Ben wiped his hands on his jeans as if his palms were sweaty and he looked around them cautiously before speaking, "I, uh.. I saw some pictures on his camera that were kinda.. Um. Well, they were of you-"

"Oh!" She relaxed, "That's what you're all worked up about? It's fine. I know about the pictures."

Ben blinked, faltering for a moment, "You.. You know about the pictures?" He repeated slowly.

"Yeah," She waved off, "He's good with a camera.. It's art — No big deal. It's kinda flattering, honestly, the way he knows how to frame his pictures just right? It's like I'm a model or something except, y'know, all his photos are candid."

"So.." Ben drew out the word, eyes squinting in disbelief, "You know he's been taking these.. Candid pictures, and you're.. Cool with it?" He asked slowly.

She reached out to pat Ben on his broad shoulder with a laugh, "Yes. I'm totally cool with it. He was worried I would think it was creepy, but like I said, it's art. I can appreciate that, y'know? I was actually thinking that if he gets another really good one, I might ask for a copy? Get it printed out and maybe I could frame it and give it to Stiles as a part of his birthday present or something.. That might be cool.." She shook her head as she began to get lost in her thoughts, laughing again quietly, "Anyway, my point is, don't worry about it."

Ben's previously tense shoulders seemed to slump in relief, "I- Okay, then. I just- My bad, I guess." He blew out a long breath through his lips and shrugged awkwardly.

"I seriously appreciate your concern, though," She said honestly, "It was really cool of you to come to me."

He nodded with a serious look, "Yeah, of course. I'm just glad I came to you first instead of, like, immediately confronting Matt and giving him shit about it-"

"Oh, god, yeah!" She nodded in realization.

Ben shook his head, taking a small step back, "Right. So, y'know.. See ya later-"

She waved and bid him goodbye, watching him go with a small smile, grateful that things had been cleared up.

When free period rolled around, Amber and Allison followed as stealthily as they could manage behind Jackson, lurking in the nonexistent shadows as they waited for the right moment to corner him. They kept a safe distance as he walked into the east wing of the school, heading toward the locker rooms and the gymnasium, on his way to get more lacrosse in even after the team's morning practice.

As they entered the more deserted area of the school, devoid of voices and the laughter that had drowned out their steps before, Allison slipped her heels off to quiet her footfalls beside Amber, opting to hold them in her hand instead.

The two girls loitered as he practiced shooting on goal with Danny. When they finally headed back inside, the girls peeked around a corner to watch Jackson enter the boy's locker room as Danny headed in the opposite direction down the hall.

Amber reached for the door handle as they got to the already closed locker room door, but both girls reeled back in shock and a touch of fear when it swung open from the other side just as Amber's fingers brushed the metal.

"You just scared the hell out of me!" Matt Daehler laughed as he exited the locker room while Amber tried to calm her now-racing heart.

"Sorry!" She apologized with a breathless laugh, "Holy shit. I, uh- We we're just-"

"-Nothing," Allison interrupted weakly, "We were just, um, nothing.."

Matt blinked at them in confusion and shook his head, gaze dropping down to the shoes still clutched between Allison's fingers, "Uh, nice heels." He commented with a curious eyebrow raise.

"Oh!" Allison realized, having forgotten she was holding the footwear at all, "Yeah, uh-"

"Her feet were hurting." Amber supplied quickly.

Matt shrugged with a grin, "Same reason I never wear mine." He agreed jokingly.

Amber laughed in surprised amusement and Matt's smile seemed to brighten at the sound.

"Uh, hey.. Did you hear about the underground show?" He asked, eyes focused solely on Amber as he fiddled with the strap of the backpack over his shoulder, "Apparently they've got some big names spinning."

"Spinning-?" Amber repeated the word in confusion.

"Yeah, y'know.. DJ's." Matt clarified.

The pieces clicked together slowly in Amber's mind, "Oh, like a.. Rave?"

Matt scoffed with a smile, "Is it still a rave if you don't roll?" He questioned, "I just call it a party but- Hey! I've got a friend who can hook us up with tickets, if you're down. Y-you want me to get you one?" He asked her hopefully.

"Oh, um-" She frowned, "I don't- I mean, y'know Stiles and I are together-"

"Oh sure, yeah," Matt interrupted, "No, I know, but.. We could still go together as friends, right?"

Amber hesitated, "I mean, yeah, but- Parties like that aren't really my-"

"It'd be really fun, I swear." He promised with a hopeful smile.

Allison nudged at Amber's shoulder anxiously with a nod toward the locker room door to remind Amber of the task at hand.

"I, um- Just as friends?" Amber repeated quickly.

"Yeah, yeah. Just friends," Matt agreed, "I, uh, I could get both of you a ticket?" He suggested, gaze finally drifting over to Allison.

"Uh, fine, yeah," Amber agreed finally, her eyes flicking anxiously toward the locker room, "Sure."

"Cool! Um, it's Friday so I'll get the tickets and-" Matt stepped around them to begin his retreat down the hallway toward the main part of the building, "-Looking forward to it."

As he disappeared around a corner, Amber locked eyes with Allison and saw the other girl was frowning, "That kinda sounded like a date." Allison said quietly.

Amber scoffed, "Which part, exactly? The part where we talked about how I have a boyfriend, the part where we both agreed to go just as friends, or the part where he offered to get you a ticket too?"

Allison's lips were parted with a retort at the ready when there was a sudden ragged coughing from inside the locker room as if Jackson were choking.

"Shit-! Go get Scott," Amber told Allison with wide eyes. The other girl looked like she wanted to fight her on it and Amber shook her head as Jackson's choked noises grew more pained, "Alli, come on. He could be either hurt or going full kanima in there- I'm serious. Jackson won't hurt me but you need to go and get Scott. He's more attuned to you anyway, he'll probably hear you coming before you even get out of the stairwell."

Allison scrunched her face, "Fine. Just.. Be careful." She huffed before turning to run down the hallway.

Amber dropped her unzipped backpack to the ground carelessly, throwing the locker room door open with a bang as she stumbled through the doorway. She listened for sounds of distress, but the noises that Jackson had been making only moments before were gone, now replaced with the quiet sound of running water from the showers at the far side of the room.

"Jackson?" She called out cautiously, slightly worried for the boy as she moved through the rows of lockers in search, "Jackson?"

"In here." Jackson's voice supplied casually from the direction of the showers.

Amber's feet carried her that much faster, converse slapping against the tiles as she headed toward his voice. As she rounded the lockers and came to a stop in the entryway of the showers, she stumbled over her feet in surprise, quickly spinning away at the sight of Jackson's very naked body beneath the spray, staring in her direction with a blank, unaffected gaze.

Amber was staring at the row of lockers across from her with wide eyes as she leaned against the tile wall outside of the showers.

"Something wrong?" He questioned from behind her.

"I- Shit, Jackson!" She exclaimed in disbelief, "A little bit of warning when your dick is out, maybe?"

There was a high-pitched creak as he turned the knob to cut off the flow of hot water and Amber tried desperately to erase the image of Jackson's privates from her brain.

"You're the one who walked into the boy's locker room." He pointed out blankly.

"Wh- I thought I heard you-" She began to defend automatically, thinking back on the horrifying choking noises she'd heard from the hallway, "I mean, I thou- Whatever. Nevermind." She shook her head.

"Did you want to talk about something?" He questioned, his voice sounding from directly behind her now, prompting her to flinch in surprise at his close proximity.

"I- Yeah, but we can-" She huffed out a disbelieving breath as she began to step past him, "We can talk later-"

"No-" Jackson's arm shot out in front of her, his palm pressing against the tile as he caged her back against the tiled wall outside of the showers. Amber immediately forced her eyes upward to avert them from his still-naked body as it dripped with water. She was staring up at the ceiling while he quickly continued, "-Let's talk now."

Her gaze fell to his and she watched Jackson's jaw clench as he glared at her with an especially dark look. She found her heart stuttering slightly in her chest at the coldness behind his eyes.

She licked her lips in thought, "You know? I, uh- I actually should probably start heading to my next class-"

"Oh, no, no-" His face pulled into an irritated snarl and he immediately blocked her attempt to step around him, "No, you don't. You have perfect grades. You can skip one class."

She swallowed audibly at the sudden closeness of the boy's wet body to her own, their torsos practically brushing against one another. A small flash of fear filled her and she felt suddenly stupid for being so blinded by the noises that had sent her barreling into the locker room worried for Jackson's well-being and unafraid of the kanima.

The way Jackson was acting now – the way he was looking at her – It had her feeling suddenly afraid of him for reasons entirely unrelated to the kanima-fueled dangers that she'd mentally prepared herself for earlier in the day.

His gaze fell to her sternum and his lips pulled into a smirk before his eyes returned to hers, "You okay?" He asked condescendingly, "Your heart's beating like crazy."

"I'm fine." She said in a rush as she moved past him, her eyes glued to the tense lines of his body as she began to back away slowly.

"I thought you wanted to talk?" Jackson questioned teasingly, raising his eyebrows and matching her steps.

"I, uh, ch- Changed my mind." She stumbled as she spoke when she backed into one of the wooden changing benches, arms flailing for a moment as she caught her balance.

"You sure? Because you look a little stressed-" His face contorted into anger again and Amber took a shaky breath, still backing away as he continued, "Is it Stilinski? Things falling apart between you two already?"

She shook her head slightly, lips parting to speak but cut off before she could say anything.

"-Can't say it would surprise me. It's not like you two are gonna last," Jackson scoffed meanly, "You know that one day, he and Scott are gonna decide they don't need a little cunt like you always dragging them down. I mean, what teenage guy honestly wants a chick for a best friend, huh? Now that Stilinski's gotten into your pants, it's really only a matter of time."

His words cut deeper than they probably should have, and she was surprised to find her back thumping blindly against the far wall of the locker room. Amber's eyes went wide when she realized she'd unintentionally caged herself again, Jackson's naked frame towering over her as he stepped close enough that patches of her dress darkened with the water from his still dripping body.

"You're being a dick." She told him.

Jackson scoffed cruelly, "I'm being honest. And if you don't realize that then you gotta be the stupidest bitch in this town. Well, other than Scott and Stiles because they seem to be pretty stupid bitches themselves-"

"Just stop." Amber demanded with a clenched jaw, gaze drifting toward the door to the locker room as she contemplated whether or not she could make it into the hallway before he caught up to her – she wasn't entirely confident that the odds weighed in her favor.

"What are you gonna do, Amber?!" Jackson shouted, his anger seeming to grow as he leaned even closer, "When your stupid bitch of a best friend- When Scott turns on you! What are you gonna do!"

His fists slammed into the wall on either side of her head and she couldn't hold back a quiet whimper as she flinched in fear, her wide eyes glued to the blind rage that had overtaken his face.

"They almost killed Lydia!" He spit the words in her face in sharp reminder, "Who do you think's gonna be next! Hm? Not you, oh no- Because you're in love with Stiles, and Scott's your best friend and he'd never let you get hurt-?" He shook his head condescendingly. His face was flooded with anger and his nose nearly brushed against hers as he continued to tear into her, "Is that what you tell yourself? Huh? If that's what you tell yourself then you're already dead."

One of Jackson's hands left the wall behind her, sharp claws now on display. He stroked them delicately down the length of Amber's cheek before pausing at the edge of her jawline, the sharp points poking at the skin of her throat just light enough that, while they didn't cut through her flesh, the threat was evident. Jackson's lips pulled back in another terrifying snarl and Amber found her heart racing anxiously at the combined feeling of the tips of his claws against her cheek and his naked body against her.

"Tell me, if your big bad werewolf of a best friend really cared, would he really let you walk around without any way to protect yourself?" Jackson's hand drifted, claws lightly skimming farther down the length of her throat as he spoke.

"I, um," She licked her lips as her body trembled anxiously, trying to work up the nerve to do what she needed to, "I wouldn't say I'm totally helpless-"

She threw her arms up and out to shove his hands away from her, thrusting her leg up sharply in the same moment to slam her knee into his naked groin. When he stumbled back half a step in surprise, she moved to rush past him, but she was yanked back roughly by her arm before she could make it more than a step away. Her cardigan tore from her shoulder as he spun her back around and suddenly they were falling through the air. Her back slammed down onto the ground and a pained grunt slipped past her lips as Jackson's weight landed heavily on top of her.

The moment they collided and his naked body pinned her to the floor, Jackson's eyes were widening, lips parted in surprise as if he'd suddenly been broken from a trance.

"Amber?" He questioned in panicked confusion as he scrambled to his feet frantically, "What are you doing here?"

The girl's heart was sill pounding in her chest too heavily for her to formulate a response. Her lips parted in a loss for words as she shuffled along the floor to put space between them. Her back hit the wall and the cold tile pressed against her bare shoulder where her sweater and the thin strap of her dress were still askew, the fabric dangling loosely down her arm. She watched as Jackson reached for a discarded pair of athletic shorts on the changing bench and moved to cover himself.

The locker room door swung open before she could respond and her wide eyes cut across the room to see Scott standing in the doorway, his gaze flicking back and forth between where she was on the floor, looking disheveled and afraid, and where Jackson was still pulling a pair of shorts over his naked legs with frantic movements.

"I- I'm fine," She assured her best friend quickly, "I'm fi-"

Her words didn't seem to quell the way that Scott's face morphed into one of blind fury. It was only then that Amber realized exactly how bad the scene in front of him appeared.

Without a moment of hesitation, Scott was storming toward Jackson furiously and Amber clumsily climbed to her feet as she watched her best friend shove Jackson back through the air with enough force that a row of lockers caved when the boy's body slammed into them.

"No, Scott! Scott, stop! I'm fine!" She repeated quickly.

Jackson righted himself with a renewed rage, "I. Have. A. Restraining order!"

"Trust me, I restrained myself." Scott retorted angrily.

In a blink, Jackson was tackling Scott and Amber watched in distress as they began to throw one another around the locker room with superhuman strength. They moved toward the showers at the back of the room and she heard an unmistakable crack as the tiles shattered from the force of their brawl.

Jackson stepped back into view, breathing heavily and scowling at Amber where she was still standing wide eyed at the front of the room, but before he could make it more than a few steps toward her, Scott was launching himself out of the showers and sending him hurtling back toward the weight benches.

"You guys, seriously! Stop!" Amber pleaded as she watched Jackson grab a forty-five pound weight, his fingers wrapping around the plate and launching it in Scott's direction as if it weighed nothing at all.

Amber squeaked as her hands came up to cover her mouth, but Scott caught the weight before it could crash into his chest.

He didn't get a moment to recover. Jackson rushed forward to kick him back into the wall, tiles cracking beneath Scott's weight only seconds before he was thrown into the row of sinks along the wall.

The porcelain shattered with a loud crash, water spraying from the burst pipes as the boys continued to throw one another back and forth across the room.

"Guys!" She tried again, voice hitching slightly. Her back hit the wall when they moved closer as she tried to stay away from the action, "Guys, stop!"

As if she hadn't spoken at all, the two continued to shove and kick at each other and Amber's heart pounded anxiously in her chest with each minute that passed, growing more and more worried that one of them might truly get hurt. Her hands scrambled as she patted herself down in search of her cell phone, a disbelieving whine leaving her lips when she realized it was in her backpack in the hallway due to the lack of pockets in her attire.

Jackson sent a final hard kick to Scott's chest and Amber watched her friend slam against the locker room door with a loud crash, the door tearing from its hinges as Scott fell back on top of it and into the hallway.

Amber rushed behind Jackson when he immediately stormed out of the room after Scott, the girl finding Erica already restraining Jackson and pulling him off of Scott. Stiles was attempting to hold Scott back while he tried to charge forward again and Amber pushed her hands against Scott's chest as Stiles wrapped his arms around him.

"Scott!" She pleaded, "Seriously, Scott, I-"

"What the hell is going on!"

Amber's eyes pinched shut in disbelief of their luck as she heard Mr. Harris yelling down the hallway, his footfalls growing louder as he stormed toward them.

"Hey!" The teacher shouted when he saw the boys still fighting against the students that were attempting to keep them apart, "Enough!"

Jackson and Scott seemed to deflate at the sound of their Chemistry teacher's angry yelling, both boys slumping against the arms holding them back as they finally stopped fighting.

"What do you idiots think you're doing?" Mr. Harris yelled, looking between the group of teens with a scowl, "Mr. McCall? Care to explain yourself?" He questioned sharply before his eyes drifted to the two teens who had released him but were still standing beside their friend, "Callisto? Stilinski?"

Amber swallowed loudly and looked around, but the entire group remained silent for a long moment.

"..You dropped this." Matt's voice cut in awkwardly, stepping from behind Mr. Harris and handing Amber's unzipped backpack to her.

Her notebook of bestiary translations was laying at the top of her books in a way that she hadn't quite remembered it being when she'd stuffed it into her bag earlier. As she took her backpack from him, she winced at the water dripping from the fabric due to the leak that had flowed out of the locker room and into the hallway.

"You, and you," Mr. Harris pointed between Jackson and Scott before shaking his head and letting his eyes rake across the group again, his gaze even drifting to where Matt was hovering behind him for a moment, "Actually.. All of you. Detention. Three o'clock."

They all slumped at the announcement of their punishment, Jackson shooting them a dark glare before storming off behind their teacher and Matt as they retreated. The moment that the hallway had cleared out, Scott was rounding on Amber with a furious glare.

"What the heck were you thinking?!" He snapped.

She flinched underneath his anger suddenly directed at her and took a small step back from him, "Wh-"

"Why would you guys split up?" He asked loudly, barely glancing at his girlfriend before he was glaring at Amber again, "That was the stupidest, most reckless-"

"Hey, Scott.." Stiles interrupted Scott's enraged scolding to move between them, nudging Scott back a step, "Take it down a notch, man."

"You didn't see the way-" Scott shook his head, his anger seeming to fade suddenly into concern in the time it took him to inhale and exhale. He moved forward again, "I- Amber, are you alright?"

"I- I'm fine, Scott," She promised, taking Stiles' hand gratefully when his fingers nudged against hers in offering, "I told you-"

Scott's chest heaved as he took a breath to keep calm, "If he.. I swear to god I'm gonna kill him-"

"Scott, stop." Amber interrupted, "It seriously wasn't what it looked like, okay? He didn't-"

"What did it look like?" Stiles questioned in confusion, he and Allison both slightly lost in the conversation.

Scott let out another sharp breath, "It looked like Jackson was-"

"I know what it looked like!" Amber cut him off again frantically, not wanting to hear the words, "Scott he was just yelling at me, okay? He was being an asshole but he wasn't going to- He-" She took a shaky breath, "He wasn't going to do anything. Not what you're thinking. He wasn't going to do.. that."

"Do what?"

Allison and Stiles voiced the words at the same time, the former still sounding confused and the latter simply exasperated at being left out.

Scott didn't speak, but he held eye contact with Amber for a long moment as if he were trying to search her face for any trace of a lie, even after having listened to the way her heartbeat remained steady while she'd spoken the words. He nodded slowly in indication that he believed her, his shoulders slumping from their rigid stance. Amber took a small step forward to pull him into a one armed hug, her other hand still extended behind her with Stiles' fingers trapped in her grip.

"I'm okay," She murmured quietly into his ear, "But regardless, I'm glad you came when you did," She said slightly louder as she released him and stepped back, "Did- Did you do okay on your makeup test? Did me and Stiles' flash cards help?"

There was a pause before he responded and she frowned at his moment of hesitation.

"I, uh, yeah. Totally. They definitely helped!" Scott said after a moment with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Amber groaned, her head rolling back on her shoulders, "You weren't finished and you bombed it to get down here and help me, didn't you?"

Scott winced, "Yeah."

Amber sighed, her grip tightening around Stiles' hand as she shook her head to clear away negative thoughts, "It's fine, it's totally fine! Y'know why? We- New game plan! Stiles and I will help you with some extra credit work instead and your grade will just-" She pulled at Stiles' wrist as she slapped her free palm against their joined hands, imitating something shooting up into the air, "We can still fix this."

At the end of the day, Amber was surprised by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist from behind, warmth filling her chest as the scent of Stiles' cologne washed over her. His mouth pressed softly against the side of her neck and Amber's breath stuttered at the feeling. She abandoned the book she'd been pulling from her locker to reach back toward him, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as she tipped her head at an awkward angle to catch his lips with her own.

"Mm, hello." She greeted quietly against his mouth.

"Hi," Stiles grinned, his arms tightening around her ribs as she turned back to collect her World History textbook, "You ready for detention?"

"As ready as one can be for punishment in the form of forced labor." She zipped up her backpack and closed her locker as she turned in her boyfriend's arms. Her back hit the lockers softly as Stiles leaned into her space to press his lips against hers again in a quick kiss.

"We're going to reshelve a couple books. It's not exactly punitive labor." He commented in amusement, prying her backpack from her fingers and releasing her so that he could drape the strap over his shoulder atop his own bag.

She took his hand in hers and rolled her eyes, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're supposed to agree with your girlfriend no matter what? Even when you think she's wrong or being ridiculous or batshit crazy?"

"I dunno, I think that might be a myth.." Stiles teased with a barely concealed grin as they headed toward the library.

"I'm just saying.. Maybe you should look into it-" She couldn't fight the smile that pulled at her own lips as his thumb ran softly back and forth along the back of her hand. She changed the subject with a quiet huff, "D'you think Erica really kept all the kanima stuff about Jackson a secret after you talked to her earlier? That she didn't tell Derek?"

Stiles sighed, "I freakin' hope so. You guys only just convinced me that we shouldn't kill him, it'd be a real bummer now if Derek just ripped his throat out anyway."

She winced, "That's.. Graphic."

"Sorry," Stiles made a face, "But, I mean- Wouldn't be the first time, would it? The guy didn't even hesitate when it was his own uncle-"

"That's a little different, I think-" She defended weakly, "I mean, his uncle was a psychopath whereas Jackson's technically one of Derek's Betas. Or, y'know, he would be if he didn't have so much repressed shit-"

"You think Derek being the one to give him the bite would really make him think twice?" Stiles questioned, pulling open the library doors and letting Amber step through first.

She shrugged, "I wouldn't necessarily count on it, but there's no harm in hoping, right?"

She dropped into a chair across the table from where Scott was already sitting and Stiles was quick to claim the one beside her.

"Oh, um, we can't be in detention together," Jackson told Mr. Harris as he sat down in the seat behind Amber, "I have a restraining order against these tools."

"All of these tools?" Their teacher asked with an unimpressed look, eyes flicking over their table.

"No, just us tools." Stiles supplied with a sigh, pointing between himself and Scott.

"Fine. Jackson, sit there," Mr. Harris said with an eye roll, gesturing to the empty seat at the table where Matt and Allison were sitting on the other side of the room before focusing back on the other teens as Erica sat down at an unoccupied table behind the teacher, "You two keep your distance from him."

Their teacher's attention left them to focus elsewhere and Scott took the opportunity to lean across the table, his face pinched tight in anger, "I'm gonna kill him." He stated, eyes flicking over to Jackson before refocusing on his best friends.

"No, you're not." Amber whispered.

"You're gonna find out who's controlling him." Stiles reminded him.

"-And then you're gonna help save him." Amber finished seriously.

"No," Scott whispered with a determined look, attention drifting to Stiles, "You were right. Let's kill him."

"He was not right," Amber whispered sharply, "You two are killing me. Get it together."

"Hey, I'm on your side now, remember?" Stiles defended, reaching out to pat her leg beneath the table as he spoke.

Amber gripped his hand over her bare thigh and squeezed it with a grateful nod.

"Hey, what if it's Matt?" Stiles pondered aloud after a few minutes, his eyes focussed on the boy sitting across the room beside Allison, "-I mean this whole thing comes back to the video, right? It was his camera-"

Scott shook his head, "Danny said that Matt was the one that found the two hours of footage that was missing-"

"Exactly!" Stiles whispered, raising his eyebrows as he continued to make his point, "He's trying to throw suspicion off himself."

Amber and Scott let their gazes drift across the room to watch the boy in question as he crunched on a chip from the snack bag he'd been picking at since the start of detention.

"..So he makes Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of Argent's hunters, and the mechanic working on your Jeep?" Scott deduced in confusion.

"Yes!" Stiles hissed.

"Why would he do that?" Amber questioned incredulously.

"Because.. He's evil." Stiles supplied slowly.

She peered across the room again and watched as Matt shook his bag of chips across the table at Jackson in offering.

"Yeah, he looks like a real criminal mastermind." Amber whispered sarcastically.

"You just don't like him." Scott told Stiles with a shake of his head.

"The guy bugs me, I dunno what it is," Stiles agreed quietly, "Just.. Look at his face."

Amber pulled her hand from Stiles' with a wince and bit down on her lip, "Does that mean now is a bad time to mention that he asked me to go to that rave concert thing with him on Friday-"

Stiles shot her a look of disbelief, eye twitching as he searched for words, "He what?"

"I mean, as friends, obviously-" She added, feeling slightly guilty from the look on her boyfriend's face.

"But you said no, right?" Stiles whispered, his gaze flicking over her shoulder to scowl at Matt before returning to her face.

She scrunched her nose, "Not exactly."

Scott listened in on their interaction silently, eyes bouncing between his best friends as if he were watching a tennis match while they went back and forth.

"Well what exactly did you say, then?" Stiles followed up.

"..Yes?"

"What!" Stiles said a little too loudly, shrinking back as everyone looked over at him and repeating himself in a hushed whisper, "What?"

Amber dropped her hand over his knee with a sympathetic frown, "I made sure he knew you and I were together and that we'd just be going as friends. And in the end he offered to get a ticket for Allison too," She promised quietly, "I didn't realize you despised him quite so much or else I would've-"

"Well if I disliked him before, I freakin' loathe him now." Stiles glared over her shoulder once more.

She sighed, grip tightening on his leg, "Babe, I'm sorry, but.. I'm not canceling on him after I already agreed to go-"

"I didn't- I'm not asking you to-" Stiles huffed with a shake of his head, "Just, be careful, alright? There's something off about the guy."

She turned her head to look back at Matt again and watched as the boy finished his chips and began meticulously folding the empty bag in half over and over until it was shaped into a small square of trash that he proceeded to tuck away in the pocket of his jeans.

"Right.." Amber drew out the word quietly, unconvinced.

A silence fell over their table, the quiet stretching on for a few minutes before Jackson suddenly pushed out of his chair and began to stumble toward the library doors with a mumbled excuse about needing to use the bathroom.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Harris questioned, looking genuinely worried for the boy in a way that had Amber very nearly rolling her eyes, "You don't look so good-"

Jackson merely pushed past the teacher when they crossed paths, "I just need to get some water." He muttered as he pushed through the doors and exited the library.

Mr. Harris watched him go for only a moment before he moved to follow behind him, pausing at the doors to turn back and glare at the rest of them, "No one leaves their seats." He warned.

The moment the doors closed behind him, Amber, Scott, and Stiles all shared a look in silent communication before they wordlessly pushed up from their chairs and rushed over to the table Erica had taken up by herself.

"Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died." Scott addressed the blonde, wasting no time with beating around the bush.

Erica looked between the three of them as they sat down and shrugged in nonchalance, "Maybe."

"Talk." Scott urged quickly.

Erica flipped her notebook closed with a sigh and leaned over the table on her elbows, "It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator, and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he turns eighteen."

Stiles narrowed his eyes in disbelief, "So, not only is Jackson rich now, but he's getting even richer at eighteen?"

"Yup." Erica grinned at the annoyance in his voice.

"There is something so deeply wrong with that." Stiles muttered.

"The last thing that boy needs is more money to further inflate his ego." Amber agreed quietly.

"You know what?" Erica murmured, opening her laptop and clicking around on the trackpad as she navigated the screen, "I could try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox.. He keeps everything."

"Scott McCall, Please report to the principal's office. Scott McCall. Principal's office."

Amber had pushed out of her seat and was headed to the opposite side of the table where Stiles and Erica were sitting when the announcement rang out loudly through the PA system. She frowned as she looked at her friend in question but Scott shrugged in response with a frown of his own, patting her on the shoulder as he stood and moved to head down to the front office.

Stiles spread his legs over the sides of his wide chair and Amber settled between his thighs easily so that they could both peer at the computer screen while Erica did a deep dive through her father's old emails.

As the blonde finally pulled up the message thread they were looking for a few minutes later, the doors to the library reopened with a quiet click as Jackson and Mr. Harris came back into the room, but the three teens paid no attention, continuing to read through the attachments as Erica opened them up on the screen.

"Wait, wait-" Amber whispered, her eyes suddenly catching on the words written on the copy of the insurance claim, "Look at the dates."

"Passengers arrived at the hospital DOA-" Erica read from the middle of the page, "The estimated time of death - 9:26 P.M., June 14, 1995." She finished with a questioning lilt to her voice, eyebrows lifting as if she wasn't sure what could be possibly important about that particular piece of information

"Jackson's birthday is June 15." Stiles pointed out, pulling the words straight from Amber's mouth.

Erica turned to blink at them in surprise.

The sudden zing of a zipper rang out through the room and everyone's attention was drawn to where Mr. Harris was pulling his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his things as he moved to leave early. The teens all followed suit in collective relief, beginning to gather their own belongings together before the sound of their teacher chuckling quietly made them pause.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry-" He laughed, not sounding the least bit apologetic, "Uh, yes.. I'm leaving. But none of you are," He explained, stepping up to one of the many wheeled carts stacked high with books, "You may go when you're done with the reshelving. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Mr. Harris chuckled again as he left the room and Amber's face pinched up in disgust.

"I genuinely hate that man." She muttered, dropping down into the seat again and leaning back into Stiles' chest with a sigh.

Erica's eyes were flicking over the screen of her laptop again, still searching for something following the discovery made by Stiles and Amber.

"What?" Amber questioned after a moment.

Erica closed the lid to her computer and blinked, "They kept his mom on life support until they could get her body prepped for surgery." She explained quietly.

"Jesus." Stiles muttered.

All of their gazes drifted over to where Jackson was leaning heavily over the top of his table, looking slightly sweaty and feverishly unwell.

"You think he's good?" Amber questioned in a whisper, head tipped back onto Stiles shoulder so she could speak quietly into his ear.

Stiles shrugged behind her, "Maybe the bite's finally gonna kill him." He joked.

Amber pinched his arm between her fingers in reprimand, "Cut that out. Now, c'mon. Let's do some reshelving. I'd like to go home at some point today."

Erica rolled her eyes at the couple just as the doors were thrown open once again and Scott reemerged. He immediately came to stand where Amber was already beginning to roll one of the carts of books in the direction of the stacks, nodding his head toward Allison in a motion for her to follow them. Stiles stepped around Amber to pull the cart from the other side, grabbing a book at random once they were hidden away between the shelves and peering down at the sticker on the bottom of the binding as he searched for the place where it belonged amongst the shelved books.

"Did you guys find anything?" Scott questioned his friends as Allison stepped up beside them.

Amber grimaced as she grabbed a book of her own, "Yeah, kinda." She supplied weakly, pushing up onto her toes to shove the book onto a high shelf.

"You guys found something?" Allison repeated curiously, "About his parents?"

Amber and Stiles both nodded, looking at one another silently as they debated who should speak and eventually the girl caved with a sigh, "Well, you know they both died in a car accident-" She whispered, fighting against the flashes of painful memories that cropped up at the reminder of how her own parents had been taken from her, "But it was only a couple of hours before Jackson was born." She continued.

"What does that mean?" Scott asked in confusion.

"It means he was born after his mom died," Amber explained, "..By c-section."

"They had to pull him out of her dead body." Stiles supplied grimly.

"Oh my god." Allison whispered.

Amber nodded in agreement as she reshelved another book, "So, yeah. His parents were killed before tiny Jackson was even born into the world."

"Killed.." Allison repeated slowly, "So, was it an accident or not?"

Stiles shrugged, "The word all over the reports is 'inconclusive'."

Scott leaned on his elbows, resting his weight onto a stack of books with wide eyes, "What? His parents could've been murdered?"

Stiles nodded with another noncommittal shrug, "If they were, then it falls in line with the kanima myth, right?"

Amber nodded in agreement, "It seeks out and kills murderers but.. What, because it had a loved one who was also murdered?"

"Would that go for Jackson? Or the person controlling him?" Allison questioned in a hushed voice.

"Maybe both?" Amber pondered, "I mean, maybe that's why they bonded in the first place."

"Could be." Stiles agreed easily.

"Regardless, I don't think Jackson wants to kill anybody," Amber whispered, "I mean, if he knew what he was-"

"We have to talk to him," Scott interrupted, moving around the book cart to walk to the front of the aisle, "We have to tell him."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Amber countered, stepping forward to follow after him, "I don't think he's gonna listen to-" Scott left the row of shelves without another word and Amber sighed as she turned back to Allison and Stiles, "-And he's gone.. Y'know, he used to listen to me."

"Yeah, him going Teen Wolf and no longer being such a pushover is a real pain in the ass, isn't it?" Stiles lamented in agreement.

"Yes." Amber agreed in discontent.

A loud crash from a few rows over had Amber flinching in surprise, head whipping toward the commotion as another crash immediately followed, the second one sounding out slightly closer.

"Erica!" Scott yelled from another row.

Amber took a nervous step back toward Stiles as her heart picked up in her chest. The next crash sounded from directly above them as a dark blur jumped from one towering bookshelf to another, slamming into the ceiling and shattering lights as it moved. Amber brought her hands up to cover her head as small shards of glass along with styrofoam and dust from the ceiling tiles rained down over them and Stiles pulled her to the ground, wrapping one arm around her waist and positioning the other protectively over their heads.

They heard Erica let out a small scream from the next row and as Stiles lowered his arm slowly, Amber looked between him and Allison with wide eyes.

The shattered light bulbs above were sparking dangerously as electricity continued to flow into them and Amber took ahold of Stiles' wrist as the sound of wood splintering and loud crashes continued from beyond the stack that they were tucked away in.

The familiar screech of the kanima sounded out only moments before Scott was tossed back into a cart of books in need of re-shelving at the end of the bookshelves. Amber made a small, unconscious move to go toward her friend to help but Stiles tugged her back into his arms without hesitation, scolding her quietly.

Scott groaned as he righted himself and he slipped into the row of shelves upon spotting the three of them still ducked down beside the other book cart. He came to a crouch in front of them all, blocking them off from the end of the row and stretching his arms out protectively as Allison flocked to her boyfriend's back.

It was only then that Amber's eyes fell on Jackson. He was stood in front of a blackboard across the room, half-shifted in a way she'd only ever seen when he was unconscious outside of the nightclub, his skin lightly covered in scales though he remained looking mostly human. His head lolled to the side limply as he gripped a piece of chalk and began to write on the board, showing no indication that he knew what he was doing, like a puppet controlled by someone pulling at its strings.

The chalk clicked loudly against the board in the sudden silence as Jackson's unfocused yellow eyes gazed at nothing in particular across the room and Amber gripped onto Stiles that much tighter in unease. Jackson finished his messy scrawl of large letters on the board, remaining still for a terrifying moment before he launched himself out of the second story library window in a loud crash of shattering glass.

Amber let out a shaky exhale and Stiles pressed his mouth to her temple, not quite kissing her but simply panting anxious breaths into her skin as they all took in the message that had been left behind on the blackboard.

STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU

The four rose to their feet, slowly stepping out from the row of bookshelves as the lights continued to flicker and spark above them. Amber's gaze drifted to the next row over as it came into view and she stumbled over her own feet at the sight of the blonde werewolf convulsing on the floor.

Amber pushed past Stiles and fell to her knees, rolling Erica over onto her back until she could see the other girl's face.

"Woah, woah- Hey!" Stiles alerted the others immediately as he followed his girlfriend's footsteps and helped her hold onto Erica while the girl thrashed.

"She's having a seizure-" Amber shouted in confusion, "She's a werewolf! How- How is she having a seizure?"

"Hey, we need to get her to a hospital." Stiles announced obviously.

"Derek-" Erica disagreed in a quick burst, "T-To Derek."

Their grip on the blonde tightened further as she twitched and Scott dropped down to the floor alongside them, looking over to the next row where Allison was checking on an unconscious Matt.

"He's alive." Allison declared.

Scott sighed in relief, his eyes meeting Amber's panicked ones before his gaze dropped down to Erica for a moment. He looked back at Allison, "When we get her to the hospital-"

"To Derek," Erica was quick to repeat, jerking beneath Amber's hands, "To Derek."

"Okay," Amber agreed easily as Stiles sat Erica up in his arms, "Okay, we'll go to Derek." She promised.

Scott was still looking at Allison longingly and he stood suddenly before rounding the bookshelf to drop down beside his girlfriend.

Stiles' head snapped up in annoyance, "Hey, Scott!"

"Asshole." Amber muttered under her breath as she pushed a clump of curls from Erica's face and tucked them behind her ear, "Scott!" She called out again in frustration.

She could hear the hushed whisperings between Scott and Allison but couldn't quite make out the words that were being said and her eyes went to her boyfriend's to meet Stiles' own irritated gaze.

"Scott, go." Allison said loudly.

"Yeah, Scott, get your ass over here!" Amber snapped as she helped Stiles get to his feet with Erica draped in his arms bridal style.

Scott finally approached them again a few seconds later and immediately took Erica's weight from Stiles' arms, carrying her effortlessly as he rushed toward the exit. Stiles huffed quietly in annoyance as they followed behind Scott with quick steps and Amber's hand found his back as they moved through the empty halls.

"I had that." Stiles muttered quietly.

"I know you did." Amber assented, rubbing her hand over his shoulder blades as they rushed down the hallway.

"I wasn't struggling that much. I could've carried her-"

Amber nodded empathetically, "I'm sure you could've."

Stiles huffed as they rounded a corner to head toward the front doors, "Why do I get the feeling you're just trying to appease me?"

"Because I am." Amber said easily, grabbing his hand to pull him to move faster.

"Wh- I mean, I've carried you plenty of times! You know I could-"

"You're very strong, baby, okay?" She placated quickly as they followed Scott through the doors and down the steps to the sidewalk, "But we both know Scott's stronger. There's no point in wearing out your human muscles, right?"

Stiles frowned as he pulled out his keys, "Yeah, I- Okay."

She knew that couldn't possibly be the end of it, the very last thing Stiles was known for was his ability to let things go, or concede in a fight — but it seemed he was willing to drop the subject for now, and Amber rewarded him with a tender stroke of her thumb over his cheek before she climbed into the vehicle.

As sickening as it was to watch Derek snap the bones in Erica's arm to jumpstart her healing process, it was nothing compared to the positively blood curdling scream that Erica let out when he sunk his claws into her flesh to squeeze the kanima venom out through the broken limb.

Amber had never had any real problems with the sight of blood, but as Derek dug his fingers into the skin of Erica's arm and thick red streams of it poured out onto the dirty floor of the train car, she had to hold back a gag as nausea flooded her body.

Stiles' warm breath against her neck as he shielded his own eyes from the gore-y scene was a welcomed comfort. She reached to cup the back of his head and he burrowed his face further into her hair with a wince when Derek tightened his grip once more and Erica's screams started up again.

"Derek-" Amber choked out, tightening her other hand around Erica's as a few tears leaked down the blonde's cheeks.

"I'm almost done." Derek promised them.

The next few minutes were painful for everyone involved and their ears were still ringing with Erica's cries of pain by the time Derek released his grip on her arm. They all slumped in relief at the sudden silence while Erica caught her breath and Derek and Scott were quick to rise to their feet and exit the ratty train car.

Amber stumbled to her own feet, temples throbbing slightly from both the anxiety and the screams that had filled her head for the last couple hours. She gave Stiles' shoulder a squeeze before she followed the path out of the train car in search for where Scott and Derek had wandered off to only moments before.

"You knew who it was." Scott accused Derek as Amber stepped up behind the two werewolves.

She watched with a sick weight in her stomach as Derek wiped Erica's blood away from his hands with a rag before he nodded and spoke, "Jackson."

"You just wanted Erica to confirm it, didn't you?" Scott asked in annoyance.

Derek nodded again but Amber took another step into their space before he could respond, "You're not going to hurt him."

"I'm not?" Derek crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows.

"Face it, Derek. You need help from Scott and his worthless pack of humans," Her words were laced with venom and she almost felt satisfied by the look of surprise on the older werewolf's face, "And we'll help you, alright? But we're not hurting him."

"Amber-" Derek's words were cut off when Scott cut in.

"She's right," Scott nodded seriously, placing a hand on Amber's shoulder in a show of support, "We'll help you stop him. But we do it on one condition; we're gonna find a way to catch him, not kill him."

Derek sighed, "So what's your plan then?"

Silence.

"You want to do things 'your way', but neither of you has a plan?" Derek huffed in exasperation.

"The rave on Friday.." Amber said after a moment.

Derek shook his head immediately, "There'll be too many people-"

"Exactly," Scott agreed immediately, "Jackson won't be expecting us to corner him in such a crowded location and he'll be a whole lot easier to catch if he's not expecting it."

"So, Mr. I'm A Werewolf And I Know Everything-" Amber looked at Derek expectantly, "How does one set a trap for demented lizard-wolf?"

"We could use mountain ash, maybe.." Derek said with a shrug, "But I don't have any."

"Well who would?" Amber asked immediately.

Derek frowned, "Scott's boss might-"

"You think Deaton has this stuff?" Scott questioned.

"There's a lot you don't know about him, Scott," Derek supplied unhelpfully, "And I doubt he'd give it to me, but he might be willing to give it to you."

"Okay," Amber said easily, "So we ask Dr. Deaton for this ashy shit.. What exactly is it though? How is it gonna help us catch Jackson?"

Derek sighed a long suffering sigh before giving them a painfully undetailed run down of how they might be able to use the mountain ash to trap Jackson, but voiced that he was unsure how they'd subdue the kanima once they had him trapped. Scott was quick to insist that Deaton would be able to help them come up with a more thorough plan and that he, Amber, and Stiles would go and speak with his boss after school one day.

"Cool. So we have a week to come up with a plan, then," Amber said, bitterness seeping into her voice as her eyes drifted to Derek again, "I guess we'll just have one of your precious Betas let you know once we have it all hashed out, since you've made sure that it's impossible for any of us to get a hold of you."

She turned away with a huff and made her way down the dark, dirty hallway, needing just a moment by herself as anger pulsed violently in her chest. She flinched when a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her to a stop in an empty stretch of the abandoned railway cars.

"Amber, hang on a second." Derek said calmly.

Her eyes narrowed, hurt creeping up inside her as she recalled what he'd said just a few days before to shed some light on why he'd entirely cut off contact with her.

I didn't want you to be a part of my pack if you wanted to stay human.

"What?" She sighed weakly.

"I know I hurt your feelings," He said slowly, "And I-"

"You didn't," She lied with a small shrug, "Why would I be hurt?"

Derek gave her a look as if she were being wholly ridiculous, "I know I hurt you," He repeated, "When I told you I didn't want you to be a part of my pack-"

"I'm a part of Scott's pack, remember? You said so yourself. I don't want to be a part of your stupid agro-pack anyway, okay?"

He appeared sad as he frowned at her and she couldn't quite tell if it was hurt or pity swimming in his eyes, but her throat tightened regardless.

He sighed, "I just wanted to apologize, alright? My mother never really considered the human family members to be part of the pack and until I saw the bond that Scott's formed with you, and Stiles, and Allison, I thought that was just how it was supposed to be. I didn't-"

"Didn't want a sixteen year old little girl to get in the way and ruin your perfect pack of werewolves?"

She refused to even look at the older werewolf as she spit his words back at him, her eyes focussed on the dirty cement wall behind him instead. She hadn't even been truly angry when he'd initially said the words, but now that her frustration had pushed its way to the surface, she felt her emotions taking over for the first time since the night she'd turned down his offer of the bite.

"I shouldn't have said that," Derek confessed quietly, "I didn't mean it. I was angry that you turned me down but I shouldn't have pushed you away the way I did."

Her jaw clenched, "No. You shouldn't have."

"I'm sorry."

At his apology, her eyes finally flicked back to Derek and her stiffness loosened slightly at the genuine regret on his normally stoic face.

"All I ever wanted was to help you." She said quietly.

"I know."

"I- I was starting to think of you like a brother and you just.. You said you didn't want me anymore and you left." Her voice caught in her throat and Derek's eyes widened at the shift in her emotions, "I cared about you."

"I.." Derek's face scrunched up like he was struggling entirely too hard with his words before continuing, "I care about you too."

Her face broke into a grin accompanied by glassy eyes as she threw her arms around his shoulders, "Aw, Sourwolf.. I forgive you. For being such a big stupid dickhead."

Derek chuckled quietly as he returned her hug and Amber's chest felt decidedly warm.

"Oh, come on! Alpha paws off my girlfriend. For the love of God." Stiles' voice exclaimed as he rounded the corner.

Amber laughed as she released the werewolf and she took Stiles' hand in hers as soon as he was at her side, "How's Erica?" She asked.

Stiles smiled sadly, "Healed. She passed out but she looks a lot better than she did."

Derek nodded at his words before moving past them and Amber's arms looped around her boyfriend's waist the moment they were alone. She nuzzled her head into his neck and he huffed an amused laugh as he returned her embrace, combing his fingers through her hair in a familiar motion.

"What's up?" He asked quietly.

She shrugged and attempted to bury herself deeper in him, "Are you and Scott ready to go?"

Stiles hummed a confirmation before dropping his arms around her waist, "Should I carry you to the Jeep? To prove my more than adequate human strength?" He tightened his arms and lifted her until her toes could only just brush the ground but she shoved him away with a squeal of laughter.

"No," She said quickly as she moved down the hall, "Nope, no carrying necessary. Let's go get Scott. We can start planning Operation Capture Jackson on the way."

Stiles ran up behind her and she broke into laughter again while dodging his attempts to get his arms around her, tangling her fingers with his instead as she pulled him along.

"Stiles!"

Amber fisted the fabric of his flannel between her fingers in the scramble for something substantial to hold onto as her voice rose.

"I'm serious! Put me down!" She demanded in a shout.

"Nope," He slammed the passenger door of the Jeep closed and turned to head inside the house, his hands gripping her thighs tightly to ensure she didn't fall from the place where she'd been thrown over his shoulder after insisting he help her from the vehicle in what she'd thought had been an act of chivalry, "Not until we're upstairs. I'm-"

"You have proven your point!" She found herself laughing despite the way his shoulder was digging somewhat painfully into her gut.

"Not yet."

As he stepped into the house, Stiles took a moment to toe off his shoes while using one hand to pull Amber's from her feet and dropping them to smack against the floor one at a time.

"I'm wearing a dress!" She squealed when he still didn't set her down. She suddenly found herself desperately hoping that none of his nosy neighbors had been looking through their windows at the right moment to receive a full view of her ass as he'd carried her inside.

"You sure are," Stiles agreed as he moved past the entryway and deeper into the house, his right hand sliding dangerously further up her thigh as he went, "Thanks for that, by the way. It's a nice view."

She pinched his backside in retaliation as he began to climb the stairs and his knees buckled worryingly for a moment in surprise on the bottom step.

"Do not drop me, Stilinski-" She threatened seriously.

"Don't distract me!" He countered.

"You're being ridiculous!" She argued, watching with unease as the distance between her head and the floor grew, "And you're lucky I don't get motion sickness because looking down all of these stairs is mildly terrifying-"

"I'm not gonna drop you." He promised.

He made a point of tightening his fingers around her thighs further to reassure her but his actions had an entirely different effect. She had to bite down on her lower lip painfully to hold back the quiet moan that threatened to escape as his fingers dug into the soft flesh just beneath the roundness of her ass, his thumb dipping torturously between her thighs as he squeezed, the tip achingly close to pressing against her lace-covered core. So close, she could very nearly taste it.

When they made it to his bedroom, Stiles unceremoniously dropped her down onto the bed and she quickly propped herself up on her elbows to look up at him in disbelief, her cheeks flushed with heat.

"That.. Was so unnecessary." She said breathlessly as she pushed herself to sit up at the edge of his bed.

Stiles only grinned, "Told you I could do it, though. I'm not even winded. In fact, I could've-"

His words cut off in surprise when Amber dragged him forward with a hand fisted in his shirt, his knees bumping the mattress as he stumbled to a stop between her parted legs. She blinked up at him while she continued to catch her breath, tongue poking out to wet her lips unconsciously as her gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth.

Stiles watched the movements and leaned down suddenly with one knee on the mattress between her thighs to pull her into a kiss, his hand gliding over her jaw to cradle the back of her head until his fingers could tangle in her hair.

She groaned into his mouth, her arms sliding across his shoulders to loop around his neck so that she could pull him down against her as she fell to her back on the bed. The sparks that had pooled in her belly crept lower, fluttering excitedly between her legs as his weight settled on top of her and she sighed contentedly through her nose when he deepened the kiss.

His fingers skimmed with the ghost of a touch over the skin of her biceps, dragging up past her elbows where he untangled her arms from around his neck to push them down against the mattress. His hands trailed back toward her own to tangle their fingers together once her arms were splayed out on either side of her head. When his lips left hers, she tipped her head back while his mouth left a wet trail of kisses along her jaw and down the length of her neck.

Her hips canted up reflexively as his teeth scraped softly over the sensitive skin of her throat, his warm breath tingling along her skin, and Stiles groaned into her neck when her pelvis made contact with the growing bulge at the front of his jeans.

"Stiles-" She breathed as his hands tightened around hers, arching up against him again in a desperate search for friction.

The scratch of denim was rough against her bare thighs as he shifted between her legs. The smell of his body wash still lingered on his skin from his morning shower and it filled her lungs with much needed oxygen while simultaneously filling her head with a giddy static that left her reeling, like the black and white fuzz of a channel that didn't come in on the television.

His lips trailed lower to leave hot kisses along her collarbones, his hands releasing her only so that he could slide her sweater from her shoulders, the strap of her dress following suit and slipping down past her elbow. His mouth was quick to find the newly revealed skin of her chest and she groaned while he stripped her of her cardigan completely, allowing him to tug it down her arms and toss it blindly over the side of the bed.

She pushed his own overshirt from his shoulders in response and his hands gravitated back to her skin the moment it was stripped away so that he could hike the fabric of her dress up, his thumbs pressing into her flesh intoxicatingly when he reached the tops of her thighs. She helped him drag the fabric up over her stomach and chest, tearing the dress over her head in a quick movement.

Stiles stared at her in awe for a moment before he was crowding her back against the bed to recapture her lips. Their tongues danced between hot breaths but eventually he was leaning down to reattach his mouth to the skin of her chest with wet kisses instead.

She felt his hands slip beneath her back to tug at the clasp of her bra. His mouth paused distractedly where he'd been kissing at her skin and the offer to assist him was on her lips when the fabric suddenly fell loose around her chest.

"Got it," Stiles boasted quietly, pulling the article from her body and throwing that behind himself as well, his lips immediately gravitating back to her chest, "Stupid demon contraption-" He muttered against her skin before sealing his mouth around a pebbled nipple.

The moan she let out was pornographic as her spine arched up from the mattress, chasing the feeling of his mouth, of his teeth scraping lightly against the bud while his thumb brushed lightly over her other breast.

It felt all too sudden when he pulled back and she blinked at him in confusion, feeling ridiculously disheveled from just fifteen minutes of kissing and a few seconds of his mouth on her tits.

"Hickeys," Stiles said simply as they looked at one another with lust-filled eyes. He licked at his swollen lips before continuing, "How do you feel about hickeys if they're not on your neck? Y'know? Is that still a no, or-"

She nodded wildly, "'S fine, that's fine."

An excited grin spread across his face and Amber wondered for a fleeting moment if she'd later regret granting him permission, but the thoughts were cast out of her mind the second he bit down on the sensitive flesh on the side of her breast, teeth sinking into the softness with a sudden and pleasurable sting.

She keened and gripped at the back of his neck as he sucked harshly on the sensitive skin before moving on to a new spot, his mouth leaving a smattering of biting kisses over both her breasts, littering her with spots in a wide array of pink and purple. He gripped her waist tightly, one hand holding her still as he worked while the other trailed down the outside of her thigh to pull her leg up around his hip.

When he finally kissed his way back up to her mouth, she angled her head to deepen the kiss immediately and reached between them to press her palm against the bulge beneath the zip of his pants as their tongues tangled. Stiles groaned into her mouth and she was quick to begin working at the button on his jeans, tugging it free and yanking down the zipper before pulling at the fabric at his hips.

He leaned back to rid himself of his jeans and slipped back into the space between her thighs in a flash, his hips rolling down against hers lightly as he reattached their mouths. He didn't waste any time before his lips were dragging back down her neck and chest, leaving a wet trail in their wake as he kissed and licked at her skin.

She was about to plead with him to do something but the words died on her lips when he moved lower, kissing a line down her stomach and nipping lightly at her hip bone before trailing lower still and repeating the treatment he'd given her breasts on the skin at the top of her thighs with teasing bites and kisses.

His fingers finally hooked beneath the waistband of her underwear and he slipped the fabric down her legs until they were out of the way, absentmindedly leaving them hooked around just one of her ankles in his rush to get back to the task at hand.

His head dipped down between her thighs tongue first and Amber cried out, gripping desperately at his shoulders over his shirt as he began to work his mouth against her clit.

"Yes," She praised simply in a low whisper, "S-shit."

He slid a hand up her stomach to massage her breast and she found herself having a hard time holding back the breathy noises that left her as he alternated between licking down at her entrance and moving a little higher up to flick his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves there instead. He swirled around her clit a few times, warm and soft and so fucking incredible, before he was flattening his tongue to apply more pressure.

"Sti-" She gasped, "Shit, y-yes. Just like- You- S-shit-"

Her chest was heaving with strangled breaths, fingers digging into his shoulders desperately as she tried to vocalize how good he was making her feel.

Her thighs began to tremble with the build of her orgasm, legs tightening around his shoulders as he worked her closer and closer to her peak. She was teetering on the edge, gasping and whining slack-jawed, when Stiles closed his lips around her clit and sucked lightly, his tongue still flicking against the nub, and her orgasm suddenly crashed over her in a wave of white-hot pleasure. Her hips twitched beneath him and his name spilled from her lips as her whole body jerked with her release.

He didn't back off until she began to wriggle uncomfortably beneath him from overstimulation. He haphazardly wiped the slick covering his mouth off against the love-bitten skin of her thigh before he crawled his way back up her body to drop his forehead against hers, their noses brushing lightly as she caught her breath.

"It- It's almost annoying how good you are at that." She murmured, tipping her chin up to catch his lips against hers lightly.

Stiles grinned in satisfaction at the compliment and he leaned down to slot their lips together more firmly, the taste of her own arousal lingering on his mouth.

After a moment of recovery, Amber reached down to wrap a hand around the hard line of his cock over his boxers, a surprisingly large patch of precome dampening the fabric, his length warm and heavy in her hand. He huffed a sharp breath into her mouth and she pulled back from the kiss slightly to peer up at him, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered and his lips parted as she tightened her fingers around him and worked her hand slowly.

Stiles groaned weakly when she released him but she ignored his noises of protest, forcing his boxers down his hips and pushing at his shoulders determinedly until he was laying on his back. She pulled her own underwear up over her thighs again before discarding his and settling between his spread knees.

He was achingly hard now, his cock long and thick where it curved up his stomach, the head of it red and leaking a small trail of precome into the dark hairs of his happy trail. She took him back into her hand while pushing the fabric of his shirt up his chest slightly, her fingers scratching through the damp trail of hair that led up from his groin before pressing into the tensed muscles of his stomach.

She fought not to cringe at the action as she spit over the tip and began to jerk him off in earnest, thumbing away the strand of connection to her mouth. Her embarrassment washed away in a flash of confidence when Stiles let out another devastatingly weak groan, the sound of it high and breathy.

Her hand tightened at the head, collecting the precome leaking from his tip and combining it with her own spit with an easy twist of her wrist before slipping her fist back down his length, the glide smooth and noisy with the slick of the makeshift lubricant.

She leaned down slowly after a moment of simply pumping him with her fist, guiding the head of his cock to her lips. She watched him watching her — watched the moment his eyes slipped shut with a curse and his thighs twitched as she wrapped her lips around the tip.

"Oh, shit." He hissed, hands tangling in her hair, his fingers fumbling to gather her it away from her face so he could watch her move with no obstructions when he looked down again.

She swirled her tongue around the head once, relishing in the stuttered noises of desperation that Stiles was letting out, the way his thighs twitched as he tried not to thrust up into the heat of her mouth, the muscles of his stomach growing firm beneath her palm as he tensed.

"Babe. Baby, I'm-"

As he moaned, she was tightening her fist around the base, sucking lightly at the head and suddenly, Stiles was coming with a groan, warmth coating her tongue as his muscles tensed further and his grip tightened in her hair. She pulled back slightly in surprise, swallowing what was in her mouth, the taste of it salty and slightly metallic. She rubbed her thumb over the slick tip while come continued to shoot out in weak spirts, watching her boyfriend twitch with the waves of his own release, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed rapidly beneath dark hair and pale skin.

"Holy.. shit." He whispered, hips jerking and eyes closed as the last dregs of his release coated her fingers.

She waited, momentarily mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest with labored breaths, before she reached past him to grab a tissue and began to wipe the mess away from the bottom of his stomach and her hand. When she reached back up for a second tissue, Stiles halted her movements to look at her with wide eyes.

His thumb rubbed along her jaw softly, "Oh my god," He whispered, "I'm.. So sorry. I just.. Shit. I'm sorry." He repeated quietly, looking adorably flushed from embarrassment or his orgasm or possibly some combination of both.

"What exactly are you apologizing for?" She asked curiously, her hand trailing up his cheek as she reached up to drag her fingertips through the softness of his short hair.

He grimaced, "Well first off for having, like, zero restraint whenever you're on top of me and always embarrassing myself by coming in like ten seconds-" He began quietly, "But mostly for just coming in your mouth without any warning-"

Amber knocked their foreheads together as she snorted an amused laugh, "Mhm. Totally unforgivable.." She teased, "But I guess.. Just this once.."

She leaned down to give him a kiss but his head tipped away to avoid her lips as he continued.

"I'm serious. I swear I usually last longer, but-"

"Usually?" She repeated the word playfully, "What, when you're jerking off in bed all by yourself?"

His nose scrunched up cutely in annoyance, "Well, I.. Yeah."

She laughed, "Aw, Sti. I'm sorry that having a real life half-naked girl on top of you is proving so detrimental to your sexual stamina."

"It's just not the presence of a naked girl that's been ruining me. Y'know, just for the record," He said quietly, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear as he continued, "It's that it's you."

"You're ridiculous." She blushed despite herself.

"I'm serious," He corrected, "I've wanted you for as long as I can remember and as if listening to the sounds you make when I'm eating you out aren't bad enough, then you actually get your hands on me, tits out, and you look up at me with those freakin' eyes while you put my dick in your mouth?" He shook his head with a small smile, "Nope.. No fuckin' way. I don't stand a chance."

"You're a pretty smooth talker aren't you, Stilinski?"

"I'm not trying t-"

She silenced him with a kiss, their mouths separating and quickly reconnecting in fluid movements until she had no choice but to lean back so that they could both catch their breath again.

"We should probably get started on homework if we don't want to end up like Scott." She commented reluctantly.

"I'm not sure it's even possible to fall as far behind as Scott," Stiles squeezed her hip lightly, "But you're probably right."

Amber leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve his underwear, passing them to him before crossing the room to dig around in his dresser for something comfortable to wear, "What do you want to do for dinner? Is your dad working late or should we maybe wait for him-?"

As she spoke, her eyes caught on a rolled up bundle of white cotton at the back corner of the drawer and she pulled it out excitedly, rubbing her thumb over the faded logo on the front before tugging it over her head.

"Working late. Again." Stiles sighed as he stepped up behind her, swapping the drawers to pull open the one stuffed with his sweats and pajama bottoms. He paused in his search for a pair of pants and grabbed at her shoulder curiously, "What shirt-?"

His words cut off as she was turned to face him with an excited grin on her face. She stretched her arms out at her sides with a flourish as she showed off the shirt she'd uncovered from the depths of his dresser.

"How long d'you think it's been since this even fit you?" She laughed.

Stiles was staring distractedly at the way her hardened nipples poked out beneath the faded Star Wars logo covering her chest and he shook his head after a few seconds of deafening silence before responding, "I, uh.. I dunno. Maybe when I was twelve? Thirteen?"

The soft worn cotton of the shirt only reached the tops of her thighs, not quite long enough to cover her underwear completely and Stiles was weak to do anything but immediately crowd her back against the dresser. He toyed with the loose collar, fingers brushing against the column of her throat, and her heart stuttered at the warmth of his body pressed against her. His free hand slipped beneath the hem to run along her stomach, sliding back to the bottom of her spine while he tugged the collar to the side and dipped his head to press his lips softly to the base of her neck.

"Sti, we.. We're supposed to be getting dressed-"

"Maybe we should get undressed one more time, and then get re-dressed." He suggested before kissing her neck again.

"Homework. Studying.."

She sighed, closing her eyes and tipping her head to the side in contradiction to her words so that she could bask in the feeling of his mouth just a little longer. The knowledge that they needed to be responsible did nothing to quell the heat that pooled beneath lace as he nipped lightly at her skin, just soft enough to teasingly suggest the threat of a real bite.

She gripped the warm skin of his hips, fingernails digging into pale flesh as she let out a breathy sigh and relaxed back against the dresser.

She let him continue for a long minute before pushing him back slightly, cupping his face in her hands, "Homework. We'll do homework and eat something and then maybe, before bed.."

Stiles groaned, "Fine."

She kissed the pout on his lips lightly, "We're making good choices."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

[cru5h-cascades]

Day 3 of fighting for the honor of Team Future (coup de grâce)

I won a 100x battle!

Somehow in the final 2 hours of the splatfest I absolutely locked tf in and started getting a bunch of wins AND AN INSANE AMOUNT OF KILLS ONE MATCH?! YO??

Anyways...

We should be getting the splatfest results in a few hours. Hopefully Team Future managed to turn things around and we get the win.

It was an honor splatting with y'all. This was my first (actual) final fest (not counting S2's Mushroom v Star splatfest) and damn was it a kick ass one! Watch- they're gonna announce Splatoween or whatever right after the results for the splatfest come out, along with the return of our good ol' friend the ✨lil devil horns✨.

[mangoshorthand]

Hey! Do you have any tips for writing Five’s interactions with his canon!niblings? I mentioned before that I’m writing a ff and I want to include what st*v* bl*ckm*n was too cowardly to give us, except I have no idea how Five would interact with kids. I imagine he’d be kind of like a reluctant “dog dad” at first (the dad protests he doesn’t want a dog, but eventually even lets it sleep on his bed.) I think he’d probably be a little scared of them too, with his history at the Commission and having to kill kids of the same age (being worried he’d hurt them.)

I know your ff “she” has him with similar relationships so I was wondering if you’d have any input for his personality/reactions. 

So, in my interpretation, Five is a softie for kids and always has been. This I based on his interaction with baby Pogo in S2.

During his Commission days, I present him as having a really hard time in the aftermath of killing kids, and it being one of the things that really haunts him, despite wanting to appear blasé.

As a result, I see him as someone who thinks he shouldn't be around kids but, when he's actually around his niblings, his instinct to nurture and protect takes over, (as they are an extension of the family he worked so hard to save).

So, when he's around other people, I think Five would hang back from the kids and stay aloof, but if he were on his own then his soft side takes over and he finds he's really natural with them. Kids have a lot of questions and he enjoys teaching. I've written a lot about Five with kids, and these fics offer a potted chronology of his evolution as an uncle and father:

Chapter 3 of Alias Number Five in which Five kills a child

The final chapter of Alias Number Five in which Five comforts his crying baby nephew when he himself is in a shitty place. (She will also cover their dynamic more)

Adjusting to fatherhood throughout Flesh and Blood (though I apologise for shoddy writing as it needs a spruce up)

No Blinking! A oneshot about him and his young daughter.

[tachyradio]

I don’t know if anyone’s following me anymore but I’m going to write a Capone & darmody fic at some point. Before the end of this year at least. It’s gonna be rooted in visceral anger & the funky family dynamics/predator & prey symbolism they sort of focus on in s2...

Ik it’s sorta taboo to pull from real life examples. Actually I don’t give a fuck about that that’s what Boardwalk Empire is all about— does anyone else think about the fact that Capone was screaming for forgiveness from ‘Jimmy’ at the tailend of his downwind. Like in the heights of his syphilis fugue he clung to a fear of hell + his victims’ retribution. & how he wasn’t even there for the v-day shoot.

I think about the deer in the first episode a lot. & the glass eyes in the commodore’s room. & Jimmy’s admission on how he felt about all the animals in there.

Also the positioning of Jimmy in that scene where they’re all together & telling him to ‘just kill Nucky. What’s the big deal?’ & how he’s on the verge of tears. & what his mother says about failure. What Capone says over the phone & then that final snub.

Lots 2 think about. To discuss

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

It's Always Been Us - Michael Kinsella x Reader (Chapter 2 - Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Story Summary: The continuing saga of Michael and Reader, starting with the morning after It's Always Been You.

Warnings/Tags for entire story: S2E7 & S2E8 AU, Oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex (like... a lot of it -- these two have 20 years to make up for), past attempted non-con (if you've seen S2 you know what's up), other additional tags to be added as we go along.

Word Count: ~3800 for this chapter

A/N: Here we are with chapter 2 -- please mind the tags here, especially the past attempted non-con one. Otherwise, enjoy!

Y/N leaned her back against the door after she shut it, a huge smile on her face. Oh my God.

She still couldn't believe that Michael had always reciprocated the feelings she had held for him for so long. Getting to wake up in his arms had been a dream come true, as was the absolutely phenomenal sex that they had had the previous night and that morning (and would hopefully have again that night).

She pushed off the door and headed back into her living room, picking up the empty beer bottles and wine glass from the evening before and bringing them into her kitchen. 

She cleaned up from breakfast then made her way back into her bedroom, pausing in front of her mirror as she spotted the love bite Michael had left on her neck that morning.

She closed her eyes as she remembered the way his hands and lips had felt on her body, the look of adoration in his eyes as he had swept them over her naked form, the sound of his voice as her name had spilled out of his mouth while he had spilled inside of her…

Y/N shivered. It had almost felt like her first time all over again -- and in many ways, it had been. It had been her first (and second, and third, and fourth) time with Michael, her first time ever without a barrier between her and her partner, and her first time with someone she truly loved who also loved her back.

She opened her eyes and slipped her robe down her shoulders in order to examine her upper chest.

Michael had left an array of love bites in varying sizes and shades of purple on her the previous night in addition to the one he had left on her neck that morning.

Y/N trailed her fingers across a line of love bites on her chest, the memory of Michael nipping and sucking at her skin as he had made love to her heating her up all over again. Mine, he had murmured.

Yours, Y/N had breathily agreed. Every part of her belonged to Michael -- her body, her heart, her soul .

She grabbed her phone out of her robe's pocket then snapped a photo.

She pulled up her text thread with Michael and attached the picture she had just taken. Thought you'd like a little reminder of your handiwork from last night, she captioned it before hitting send .

A minute later, her phone chimed with a reply. Fuckin hell, love, ya trying ta kill me? How am I supposed to concentrate on my meetings now?

Y/N grinned. I'm sure you'll survive somehow, sweetheart. 

She sucked in a breath as a photo came in. It was a selfie of Michael, fresh from the shower with a very noticeable bulge in his boxers. Can't say I don't appreciate the reminder though , it was captioned . I'll talk to ya after my meetings, okay?

Okay, love.

Y/N disrobed completely and hung her robe back on her robe hook, then went to go take a shower. 

As she stepped in under the warm spray of water, her mind drifted to the photo Michael had just sent her... and what she knew his boxers were concealing.

She resisted the temptation to touch herself to the memory of Michael being inside her, preferring to wait until she got the real thing later, and instead took a long, hot shower then dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt that hid the love bite Michael had left on her neck that morning. 

She picked her phone back up and smiled at another text from Michael. On my way to my other meeting and I keep thinking about that photo you sent me earlier. Might need to add a few more marks a bit lower on ya after dinner tonight so you'll send me another one. 😏

Y/N bit her lip. Or you can just take some photos of me yourself tonight…

Fuck, Y/N, now I know you're tryin ta kill me. 

Y/N grinned to herself. Love you.

Love you too, pet.

Y/N stuck her phone in her pocket then began busying herself with some housekeeping that she had needed to catch up on in between shifts at work.

She had just finished straightening up her house and completing a load of laundry when her phone began to ring, Michael's name flashing across the screen.

She smiled. "Hello, love."

"Hiya, pet," Michael replied. "Just lettin' ya know tha' I'm on my way home, be there in about 15 minutes."

"Okay, I'll head over ta yer place then and we can walk over ta tha park together."

"Okay. Sounds good, love."

"See ya soon, Mikey. Bye."

"Bye."

Y/N hung up the phone, already happy to see Michael again.

She grabbed her keys and purse before locking her door and walking the few blocks to Michael's.

As she neared she could see Michael's cab pull up to his house, Michael stepping out and waiting for her at the end of his driveway.

He had changed into a gray t-shirt with his green pullover over it. God, he's gorgeous.

Y/N gave him a hug. "Hello, love."

"Mmm. Hi." Michael pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Ready ta go talk ta Anna?"

Y/N nodded. "Are you ?"

Michael took a deep breath. "Hopefully she'll realize tha' I'm just tryin' ta keep her safe. I've already lost enough time wit' her, I don' wan' ta spend any more of it fightin'."

Y/N nodded. "It'll be okay, love."

They headed down the street towards the park. 

"So how were yer meetin's?" Y/N asked. "Ya don't have ta give me any details, but just… in general."

"Well the outcome of the first meetin' is that it's gonna take some more plannin'-- there's not enough people involved at the moment for it ta work. And as fer the second…" Michael sighed. "It went fine, I guess."

"How are ya on Narcan?"

Michael shrugged. "No one's had ta use it as far as I know, so everyone's supply should be okay."

Y/N nodded. Supplying Narcan to the Kinsellas helped ease the conflicting feelings she had about Michael's line of work, especially compared to her own.

Michael slipped his hand into hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "And how was yer' mornin'?"

Y/N smiled over at him. "It was fine. Got some housework done, did a load of laundry. Thought about goin' ta tha grocers, but decided ta wait 'till this afternoon fer tha'. Needed something ta do ta kill time before our date tonight."

Michael looked over at her. "Tha' reminds me, I made reservations fer 6:30 a' 1900 if tha's alright."

Y/N's heart fluttered at Michael's mention of the fancy steakhouse. She had offhandedly mentioned wanting to go there a few months prior but honestly hadn't expected Michael to have remembered that.

She stopped walking and pulled Michael in for a kiss. 

Michael grinned at her. "Is tha' a yes?"

Y/N nodded and kissed him again. "Yes."

Michael's grin grew wider. "Good. I'll pick ya up at 6 then."

They walked hand-in-hand the rest of the way to the park then found a picnic table to sit at while they waited for Anna.

A few minutes after they had arrived Y/N spotted Anna walking up. "There she is."

They stood as Anna approached.

Y/N gave Anna a hug. "Hi, sweetheart." 

Anna sat across from them. "So wha'd ya wan' ta meet up about?" she asked.

"A couple'a things," Y/N began. "First, we need ta talk about yer granddad. I know yer da' told ya ta stay away from him, and he's right. Bren really isn't a safe person fer ya ta be around."

"How do you know?" Anna said with a scoff. "Because Michael told ya he isn't?"

"Anna…" Michael said warningly.

Y/N shook her head. "No, no, it's alrigh'." She had been waffling between bringing up her own past experience with Bren but ultimately decided that Anna needed to hear about it… as did Michael. 

She took a deep breath. "Yes, but I also actually know from personal experience because Bren tried ta assault me when I was 16."

Michael's head whipped towards her in shock, a thunderous expression on his face. "He fuckin' what ?"

Y/N grimaced. She had never told Michael what had transpired that day, preferring to bury it deep into her subconscious and never mention it to anyone. "It happened not long after yer da' and I first met," she explained to Anna. "I had gone over ta his house ta see if he wanted ta hang out and yer' grandad had let me in. Apparently yer da' was at ta tha market and I'm not quite sure where yer Uncle Jimmy was, but I didn' know no one else was home until after I was already inside."

"So wha' happened?" Anna asked.

"I asked where yer da' was and Bren said that he had run ta tha market and would be right back and tha' I could just wait fer him there. Yer da' had already warned me tha' yer granddad wasn't safe ta be around, so I said tha' was alright, tha'd I'd just come back later, but Bren blocked my path ta tha' door and asked why I was in such a hurry." Y/N took a shaky breath. "Then he started talkin' about how pretty I was and how there was no way I was 16 because I looked 'so much more mature', and then -- then he asked me if I had slept with yer da' yet."

She swallowed. "I -- I told him no, tha' yer da' and I didn' have tha' kinda' relationship, and were jus' friends, and he -- he said tha' yer da' clearly couldn't see wha' was right in front of him then and tha' maybe I needed a 'real man' anyway, one who could 'teach me a thing or two'. He kept movin' closer and closer ta me, and before I even knew wha' was happening he had me cornered. He was so close and so much bigger than me tha' I couldn't duck around him ta escape."

She heard Michael suck in a sharp breath and glanced at him before continuing. "He started rubbin' my arms and touchin' my hips and talkin' about how 'sweet' I was and how he'd have ta sit yer da' down and show him exactly wha' ta do with a girl like me. I was so uncomfortable -- I had actually never even kissed a boy before, much less done anythin' else -- and so scared tha' I just squeezed my eyes shut and started prayin' fer your da' ta come home and save me."

"So wha' happened after tha'?" Anna asked before looking at Michael. " Did ya come home?"

Y/N sighed and shook her head. "No, but thankfully yer Uncle Jimmy did. Bren had jus' gotten his hand under my shirt when he heard tha key in tha lock and stepped away from me, then I got outta there before Jimmy even made it inta tha house properly. I wen' home and took tha hottest shower I could stand then I burned tha clothes I had been wearin', shoes 'n all."

She looked down at the table. "I was fortunate -- there are others before me who weren' able ta get away from Bren before it was too late, those who are still sufferin' because a' wha' he did ta them."

Anna sucked in a breath. "Like what?"

Y/N shook her head as she looked back up at Anna. "It's not my place ta tell ya anyone else's story, love, only my own."

Anna sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry ya had ta go through tha', Y/N."

Y/N bit her lip. "I spent tha followin' week avoidin' yer da' while I figured out how I was goin' ta tell him wha' had happened."

She glanced at Michael again, who was looking at her with a mix of sadness and anger. When he hadn't heard from her for a few days he had come to check on her, but instead of telling him the truth Y/N had wound up telling him that she hadn't been feeling well for the past few days but was getting better.

She shook her head. "I actually never did tell yer da' or anyone else fer tha' matter -- although I made damn sure ta never go back over ta yer da's house again when I wasn' absolutely sure tha' he was home, and even if he was I also made sure ta never be left alone in a room with Bren. Thankfully yer da' always stuck by me and would find an excuse ta whisk me away if Bren got too close. He was always tryin' ta protect me, jus' like he's tryin' ta protect ya now."

Anna sighed and took off the necklace that Bren had given her, then set it on the table. "I'll stay away from him," she said softly.

Thank God. Y/N took Anna's hand in hers. "I'm really sorry, sweetheart. I know yer' disappointed."

Anna shook her head. "It's fine."

Y/N sighed. "I know it's actually not fine, pet, but I appreciate ya listenin' ta me. I'm not tellin' ya wha' happened in order ta scare ya, but because I love ya and I jus' wan' ya ta be safe."

Her heart fluttered as she looked over at Michael. "Yer da and I both do."

Michael cleared his throat. "I also wanted ta apologize fer shoutin' at ya yesterday," he said to Anna. "I'm sorry I los' me temper. I'm jus' tryin' ta keep ya out'a harm's way, is all."

Anna sighed. "I'm sorry fer not believin' ya."

Michael nodded. "It's alrigh'."

Y/N patted Anna's hand before letting it go. "There, now that Kinsella family therapy is done, how's school?"

Anna shrugged. "'S okay, I guess. I was thinkin' about joinin' the ladies' football team."

Michael smiled. "Oh, that's grand. I know how much you loved football when you were younger."

"Yeah, I --" Anna's eyes narrowed. "Wait… Y/N, is that a love bite on yer neck?"

Y/N's eyes widened. Fuck.

She hurriedly adjusted her shirt in order to cover it back up. "Oh, er, I, um--"

A wide grin spread across Anna's face. "It is ! Ya might not've been gettin' any when ya were my age, but yer' certainly gettin' ya some now . Who's the lucky fella?"

Y/N looked over at Michael, who was nervously rubbing the back of his neck.  "Er, funny you should ask tha'..."

Anna's jaw dropped as she looked between the two of them. "No fuckin' way. Michael left tha' on yer neck?" 

She shook her head. "Okay, first off, ugh. Second, how long has this been goin' on?"

"The feelin's have been there fer a really long time fer tha both of us," Y/N replied. "But as far as actually actin' on 'em, just since yesterday evenin'. Yer da' came 'round fer a drink and a chat after yer argument yesterday and, well… We, err, talked ."

Anna huffed out a laugh. "Clearly ya did a lot more than just talk."

She pointed between the two of them. "So this is real?"

Y/N's brow furrowed. "What do ya mean, love?"

"I mean like this is actually happening, not ya two got drunk, hooked up, and are sayin' it was a mistake or somethin'."

Michael shook his head and took Y/N's hand in his. "Tha's actually part of tha reason we asked ya here. We wanted ya ta be tha first ta know tha' we're giving this a go."

Anna thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay then."

Michael looked surprised. "Okay?"

Anna shrugged. "Yeah, okay. To be honest I'm trying ta not think about it too much -- it's like ya know tha' yer parents have had sex but ya don' wan' ta actually think about yer parents having sex."

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "Understandable."

Anna picked up her bag. "I've got ta get ta dance rehearsal, but Y/N, can I talk to ya alone fer a minute before I go?"

Y/N nodded. Anna frequently came to her for advice so her request wasn't anything unusual. "Of course."

Michael stood and gave Y/N a kiss on the cheek. "I'll just be over there."

"Okay, love."

Y/N waited until Michael had sat on the low wall separating the car park from the rest of the park before turning her attention back to Anna. "Bren hasn't actually tried any funny business wit' ya tha' ya just don' wan' ta tell yer da' about, right?"

Anna shook her head. "No, nothin's happened."

Y/N nodded, relieved. "Okay. Good. What'd ya wan' ta talk about then, love?"

Anna glanced over at where Michael sat. "I just wanted ta tell ya tha' I'm actually really happy tha' ya and my da' are together. I figured he'd eventually move on and start datin' again, but since ya've always been like a mum ta me anyway yer' really the only person I don' think I'd mind seein' him wit'."

Y/N smiled. She hadn't been sure how Anna would take the news, so to hear that she not only approved but was genuinely happy for her and Michael made Y/N's heart fill with joy. "I appreciate tha', love, and I've always considered ya like a daughter ta me too so I'm glad you approve of me datin' yer da'."

Anna stood. "Alrigh', I got ta get goin' or else I'm gonna be late fer dance."

"Wan' a ride? Yer da' and I walked here but I can bring ya if ya wan' ta walk back ta mine wit' us."

Anna shook her head as she stood. "Nah, tha's alrigh'. I can make it if I hurry."

"Okay." Y/N stood and walked around to the other side of the picnic table. 

Anna gave her a hug. "Love ya, Y/N."

Y/N hugged her back. "I love ya too, pet, and I want ya ta know, no matter wha' happens between me and yer' father I'm still yer Auntie Y/N. Ya can come ta me about absolutely anythin' a' any time and it'll stay between us, okay? None of tha' is gonna change, I promise ya'."

Anna nodded, a small look of relief on her face. "Okay. Thanks, Y/N."

"Of course, darlin'."

She and Anna made their way back over to Michael, who stood as they walked up to him. "Everythin' okay?"

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, everythin's grand. Anna jus' needed a wee bit of girl talk, right, love?"

Anna grinned, her face blooming into one of the first genuinely happy expressions Y/N had seen on her in a long time. "Right."

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "I'll see ya later."

Michael nodded. "If Bren tries contactin' ya again let me or Y/N know immediately, okay?"

Anna nodded. "I will."

Y/N gave Anna another quick hug. "Bye, love."

As soon as Anna had made her way out of the park, Michael turned to Y/N. "Wha' ya told Anna about Bren… Was tha' actually all tha' had happened?"

Y/N took a deep breath, then nodded. "Yeah, tha' -- tha' was it. I think Bren liked that fact tha' I was scared, so he kept drawin' it out. Thank God Jimmy had come home when he did, though, because if he hadn't --" Her voice broke, the long-buried memory resurfacing once again.

Michael wrapped his arms around her protectively. "Shh, hey, no, it's okay darlin', yer' okay. I got ya."

Y/N snuggled against his chest. "Are ya angry at me fer not tellin' ya?"

Michael huffed out a breath. "I'm a bit upset tha' I had ta find out about it now instead of over 20 years ago, yeah."

Y/N sighed and leaned back to look at him. "I know I shoulda told ya back when it happened, but I jus' didn' know how ta handle it and the longer time went on, the harder it got ta tell ya, and eventually Bren wen' ta prison so it wasn' really an issue any longer."

Michael reached up and cupped her face in his hands, then pressed a kiss to her lips. "Either way, I'm goin' ta make sure Bren can never hurt anyone else ever again, especially you and Anna."

Y/N bit her lip and nodded.

Michael took her hand. "Here, let me walk ya home."

They headed hand-in-hand back towards Y/N's house. "So ya really won' tell me wha' ya and Anna talked about?" Michael asked.

Y/N shook her head. "No, sorry love, but everythin' is fine with her, I promise. There's certain things girls just can' discuss wit' their fathers."

She gave his hand a squeeze. "If she was ever in any kind a' real danger I'd let ya know, but otherwise I'm no' gonna betray her trust in me. Keep tryin' wit' her though, she'll open up ta ya one day."

Michael nodded. "Thanks fer talkin' ta her. I definitely think it helped ta hear from someone who wasn' me how dangerous Bren is, especially someone who's had first-hand dealin's wit' him."

Y/N bit her lip. "I'm sorry fer not tellin' ya about tha' back when we were teenagers."

Michael shook his head. "I'm just glad ya wound up bein' okay. I'd never forgive myself if he'd have actually assaulted ya."

They slowed as they walked up Y/N's driveway. "So I'll see ya at 6?" Y/N said.

Michael nodded as they stopped in front of Y/N's door. "I'm lookin' forward ta it."

Y/N smiled. "Me too, but jus' so ya know, I'd have been fine wit' us just goin' fer fish and chips down a' tha pub."

Michael shook his head. "I know, but I told ya I wanted ta do this right, so let me take ya out fer a nice fancy dinner jus' this once. Next time we can go fer fish and chips."

Y/N let out a light laugh. "Already plannin' a second date? Mighty presumptuous of ya, Mr. Kinsella."

Michael grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist. "What can I say, pet? I'm cautiously optimistic that tonigh' will go well."

Y/N shivered as Michael's thumb traced the love bite on her neck. "Mmm, well we'll jus' hafta see, now won' we?"

Michael smiled and gave her a kiss. "Love ya."

"Love ya too, Mikey. See ya tonigh'."

Y/N unlocked her door and headed inside, already thinking about what she would wear to dinner. She just hoped that nothing would happen to ruin their evening.