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corrcdedcoffin · 1 month ago

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strawberry wine (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | non-canon | NOT proofread | this is the most I've toyed with 'supernatural' aus, let me know what you think! | inspo and a 5sos fic I read YEARS ago which I can't find :(

content warnings: mentions of weed; s*xual content (f receiving; p in v); brief allusions to abuse.

word count: 18k.

blurb: JJ wakes up in an alternative universe. The most striking difference in this parallel world? You.

image coming soon - it's nearly 2am and I just wanted to post

*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ wakes with a groan. He’s laying on his side, his face is squished into the pillow, dried drool stuck to his chin. As he comes out of a deep sleep, it almost feels like he’s waking up from death. He forces his eyes open just to close them a moment later. It’s bright - too bright. His head has a dull ache akin to the type he gets when he’s had too much to drink the night before. JJ considers falling back asleep. He dips his face into the duvet. It smells good: fresh linen and the faint scent of florals. He feels his lips twitch with a smile.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

JJ’s eyes fly open.

The bed sinks as someone - a woman, judging by the voice - sits beside JJ. He feels the phantom of a hand atop of the duvet, resting on his side.

“JJ, seriously - get up. John B’s gonna be here in, like, thirty-minutes.”

The stranger stands up again. The floorboards creak as they make their way around the room. JJ listens to every minor movement like he’s tracking a predator. His heart rate doubles; his palms begin to sweat. Who the fuck is that? The footsteps stop. JJ slowly lets his eyes drift around his surroundings and he takes them in. It’s eerily unfamiliar. Not his room, or any in the Chateau, or any of his usual sneaky-link’s places. The duck-egg blue walls are foreign, as are the prints framed and hung on the far side of the room. He doesn’t recognise the chest of drawers or the floor length mirror. There’s a gaping window which is to thank for the onslaught of sunlight. Standing just to the right of it, in front of a desk, is a woman.

You’re staring intently at your reflection - a precarious mirror balanced atop of the desk - as you guide earrings into your piercings. JJ studies your face in the glass. You’re pretty, strikingly so, in a way that would have JJ stumbling over his first few words if he were to approach you. And it seems that he must have. I mean, how else could he explain winding up in a random woman’s bedroom, in her bed no less, dressed in nothing but–

JJ’s eyes nearly fall out of his sockets. His hand quickly dips further into the duvet and he frantically feels his body for - nothing. Pressing his eyes shut, JJ lets out a pained exhale. Good fucking job, JJ. It’s pretty concerning to him that he managed to get so shit-faced last night that he not only forgot sleeping with someone, but also forgot the whole night in its entirety. Come to think, JJ can’t think of anything from the last twenty-four hours. It’s like he has amnesia; his mind a blank slate, wiped clean. There’s no distinct detail, no remarkable incident, and yet JJ here JJ is, somehow. In a random woman’s bed after seemingly sleeping with her, without any recollection of sharing a single word with her.

“You okay?”

JJ opens his eyes. He looks back to the mirror. You’re looking at him through the reflection, concerned.

“Yeah, uh…” JJ clears his throat; it feels horrifically dry. “Sorry but, uh…Did we, uh, sleep together last night?”

Your brows furrow, seemingly confused, and JJ’s question hangs in the air for a long moment. But then, a sly smile slowly unfurls on your face. You leisurely make your way back over to the bed. JJ’s eyes watch you like you’re as unpredictable as a stray cat in the street: non-threatening at first glance, but potentially rabid. His breath freezes when you duck down beside his side of the bed, your face level with his. There’s a twinkle in your eye. In a sultry voice, you ask, “are you wanting a play by play or something?”

“Um…”

“Wanna create it, huh?” you tease. JJ stares at you, wide eyed.

“Uh, not right now,” he croaks.

You're confused again, the suaveness lost in a flash, smile fading. “Are you feeling a’right? You’re acting kinda weird.” JJ tries not to flinch when you lift a hand. Your palm is warm and soft as you press it against JJ’s forehead. You hum. “You don’t feel like you’ve got a fever.”

For someone who only met JJ last night, you sure seem quite fucking comfortable. “Probably just had too much to drink last night,” JJ replies. Your hand slowly retracts from JJ’s forehead.

“Baby…you didn’t have anything to drink last night. You’re the one who drove us back. Remember?”

Baby. Way, way too comfortable.

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out,” you say, not waiting for his reply. Standing straight once more, you cross the room to collect your phone from atop of the chest of drawers tucked in the corner. “I’m calling Becky and taking the day off work.”

“No!” JJ blurts. Your head whips around to him. He clears his throat and tries to sound nonchalant as he says, “no, you don’t gotta do that. You go to work. S’all good.”

“You sure?” you check, eyeing him warily. JJ presses his lips together in a tight smile which he prays is convincing and nods. You reluctantly return your phone to your jean pocket. “A’right. If you’re sure…”

JJ feels like he might throw up. He’s never felt so disoriented before. It’s as if dogs are walking on two legs instead of four; as if cars are driving backwards instead of forwards. There’s something wrong. JJ feels it in his gut, how things aren’t quite right. It isn’t just the way that he can’t rewind the last twenty-four hours or recall meeting with you, let alone sleeping with you. It’s the casual way you said ‘baby’. It’s the way you look at him, the way one might regard a lifelong friend.

You’re crazy.

It’s a shame, JJ thinks, because you’re pretty cute.

“I gotta use the bathroom,” he announces. “Where is it?”

You stare at JJ as if he’s grown an extra head. Slowly, you point with a single finger to the bedroom door. “Down the hall? Where’s it’s always been?”

JJ nods stiffly. He goes to shove the duvet off before remembering his nakedness. Whilst quite confident in his physicality usually, JJ feels inclined to set some boundaries with you. You know, considering it seems likely that you’re psychotic. He stumbles awkwardly through his words. “Can you, uh…Y’know? D’you mind?”

“You want me to leave?” you ask. You sound taken by surprise. Rude.

“If that’s a’right with you,” he replies. Your frown deepens.

“Uh…Sure?”

You take your time walking to the bedroom door. It’s as if you’re waiting for JJ to drop a punchline and tell you to stay. It’s as if he’s the one acting weird in this situation. Before you leave the room, you meet JJ’s eyes once more. If these were different circumstances, JJ might be flattered by the concern in your gaze. “There’s some Advil in the cabinet. I bought some more the other day. Might help if you’re feelin’ kinda woozy.”

“Great. Yeah, no, that’s great. Thanks.” JJ forces out a smile that feels tight like botox. You give a slow nod before finally leaving him alone, and the moment the door closes, JJ lets out a sigh of relief.

“A’right. Lets get my stuff and get the fuck outta here,” he mumbles to himself. He shoves the duvet off his lap and glances around the room. He finds his clothes folded neatly on a beanbag chair. Again, it would be sweet if you weren’t a nutjob. He hurries back into his attire, glancing at the door every other second to check you’re not coming back. The minute he’s decent, JJ is cracking open the door and glancing into the hallway. You’re not lingering with a needle to sedate him, so it seems the coast is clear. JJ doesn’t let the door slam as he sneaks out the bedroom. It takes three tries before he finds the correct door to the bathroom down the hall. His fingers are quick to fasten the lock. As it clicks into place, JJ feels his heart-rate calm just slightly. He dips his head to lean it against the wood. God, wait until John B hears about this.

As JJ uses the toilet, he takes in the decor of the pocket-sized bathroom. There’s a peach coloured shower curtain and fuzzy white towels which hang from hooks. An impressive collection of skincare products is stacked beside an almost overflowing make-up bag atop of a hip-height cabinet. Boring things like shower gel and hair wash and bubble bath decorate the window ledge, bathing in the sunlight through the frosted glass. He flushes the toilet and heads to the sink to wash his hands. The Advil seems like a good call with the headache that has already set in from how hard JJ’s brain is working to make sense of everything. It feels like he’s been staring at an optical illusion, trying to make some semblance of sense from it. He opens the mirror cabinet and quickly finds the Advil, shucking two from the bottle. But as he goes to lift his hand to his mouth, he freezes, mid-air. If being drugged was how he got here, maybe it’s best not to accept more medication from a complete stranger? He glances warily at the bathroom door before easing the tablets back into the bottle. As he returns it quietly to the shelf, soon remembering his bizarre situation, his eyes take pause on a second orange bottle.

His body goes ice cold.

His fingers tremble as he retracts it from the shelf, as if bringing the label closer to his eyes might make the words change. Adderall - take two a day for ADHD. JJ Maybank.

“What the fuck…” JJ breathes. He returns it to the shelf to retract another medication bottle, addressed to him. Then his eyes dart to the shelf below. A familiar black toiletries bag greets him. It’s JJ’s. He can tell by the bleach stain he got on it seven years ago that he couldn’t wash out no matter what he tried. It was his shaving kit. The same one he had since he was thirteen. The only decent birthday present his dad ever gave him. He unzips it and investigates the contents. Everything is there. As if items are manifesting into existence before his very eyes, JJ then notices the bottle of his go-to cologne. Then his hair gel. His deodorant.

All of JJ’s belongings are in this bathroom cupboard. In your house.

JJ loses his balance. He stumbles to the side and catches himself on the cabinet behind him, sending skincare products flying and clattering loudly onto the floor.

“JJ! You okay?” you call from the other room.

“M’fine!” JJ shouts back. His eyes are wide, gaping holes in his head, and his chest is rising and falling with what might soon become a panic attack. His world is spinning too fast, everything around him a discombobulating medley. He wonders if this is what it feels like to have a stroke. Something washes over him - perhaps adrenaline - and a voice speaks loud and clear in his head, giving him direction for the first time since he woke up.

Get out.

JJ scrambles to unlock the door. He trips into the hallway, his hand flying out to meet the wall. He tries one of the doors and it opens into an airing cupboard. He slams it shut. He’s hyperventilating, freaking out, spiralling. JJ tries another door and is met with an office, but before he can slam it shut and try the next, he hears your approaching footsteps. You call out his name again and a new wave of panic floods over him like an ice bath. He scrambles into the room and closes the door behind him. He’s manic as he looks around the room for some way to escape. A window. Yes. He wastes no time in trying it but it’s locked. He tries to force the latch, tries to haul it from the sill, grunting, but it won’t budge. His panic is rising and rising like a tsunami, building with no end in sight. And then, JJ’s eyes land on a framed photograph on the desk. He slowly releases his death grip on the window pane to instead reach for the picture. It feels like slow motion, as if he’s moving through time made of tar, as he brings the picture over to his line of sight the same way he did the medication bottles.

The pictures is of you and JJ. You’re both younger, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. Your braces glint in the flash of the camera as you beam at it, smiling. Your arm is hooked around JJ’s middle and his is safe and snug over your shoulder, holding you close and tight to him as if he might want to weld you against his side. He’s smiling too. His happiness is nearly contagious; it leaks through the glass and the wood and the ink. That isn’t the thing that catches him, though. No, instead it’s the writing at the bottom of the photograph. His writing. JJ could recognise his hand anywhere: scrawling and untamed, barely legible. The red marker is unmistakable, however, in how it reads. Fishes forever - all yours, JJ. The love heart beside it feels like an electric shock. JJ’s mouth gapes in horror.

This was real.

“JJ, what the hell is–” you stop, mid sentence, after flying into the office. Your hand is tightly clutching the door handle. JJ steadily turns his head to look at you. His heart rate weirdly settles at the sight of your face. His lungs let him take in a full breath of air. Worry consumes you. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

You hurry across the room and take JJ’s face in your hands. It’s delicate and doting, your touch gentle like he’s something breakable, and JJ stares down at you with parted lips. He takes in shaky breaths, trying to catch his spinning mind, reeling from the realisation that all of this - somehow, someway - was real.

“Did you have another one?”

JJ frowns slightly, confused.

“A panic attack, I mean?” you clarify.

JJ swallows. He feels himself nod. You melt with sympathy, sighing, and wrap an arm around his shoulder, place a hand in his hair, and guide him into an embrace.

“What a start to the day, huh?” you whisper.

JJ doesn’t know why but he begins to curl his arms around your middle. He lets himself ease a little in your hold, resting his forehead on your shoulder. You smell like jasmine and vanilla. His eyes press closed. Like a drug, it calms him, grounds him. Makes him feel sane almost, like a nostalgic smell from a childhood blanket might.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay home from work? You’re really worrying me, baby.”

The endearing term doesn’t send JJ into a blind panic this time. Instead, it sticks its claws into his heart and tugs on the strings. It’s a new feeling, but not necessarily an unwelcome one.

“No, no, that’s a’right,” JJ eventually tells you. He eases away from your hold and catches your eyes. The look that you greet him with is foreign to him but he can read it like it’s his mother tongue. You’re looking at him with nothing but pure, unapologetic love. “I’ll be a’right. Just need’t get some sleep, I think.”

You sigh, clearly reluctant to let the matter go, but relent nonetheless. “Look, John B’ll be here in, like, ten minutes. Becky’s gonna be here in less than five and I gotta finish getting ready but please promise me you’ll call if something else happens, m’kay? I’m worried about you.”

JJ nods. “I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. You smile, small and sweet like a chocolate chip, and press a kiss to the corner of his lips. JJ’s thoughts vanish at the feel of your mouth on his even though it’s barely more than a peck. His body can’t seem to decide how to feel about it: panicked, elated, relaxed, unmoored…

As you return to the bedroom to finish getting ready for work, JJ busies himself with ransacking the office. He studies every picture and photograph on the bookshelves and walls as if searching for clues. A world builds around them, filling in the blanks of his mind. Every image of himself feels like JJ’s looking at a simulation. It’s him, distinct and unmistakable, and yet, JJ cannot place a single memory. It’s as good as AI: his face is a mere placeholder for something that was never his. But the more JJ delves into the world that he seemingly shares with you, the more he wishes it was. There’s group pictures of the two of you with the Pogues: on the boat, at the chateau, in the marsh and the sea. They pass through the years of fifteen to twenty-two - present day. There’s many of you and JJ. A graduation, the two of you grinning, hand in hand, dressed in robes, standing before your high school. A date night, you perched pretty on the pull-out sofa of the chateau, a buffet of finger foods and snacks surrounding you on a shabby blanket. A few candids here and there, some taken by the Pogues, some taken by you or JJ. The one of you two kissing, oblivious to the world around you, has JJ’s attention for the longest. In your hand is a fish cuddly, bright blue. This fish thing seems to be a recurring theme. He’d noticed it in a particularly cringy photo from when the two of you were around sixteen, faces puckered like sea creatures, cross eyed and dilated pupils.

Your knuckles wrap against the office door and JJ looks over. You look beautiful: hair tamed and tidy, jewellery twinkling in the daylight, lips glossy as you speak. “Becky’s out front. One last offer?”

“You go,” JJ says. He means it this time, and not just because he plans on fleeing the second you’re gone. He’s sucked in - too curious to turn back. “I’ll be good, don’t worry.”

“M’kay,” you mumble. A car honking has you rolling your eyes. JJ wants to smile at the sight. You have a spunk to you that he imagines an older woman would describe as moxy or gumption. “A’right that’s me.”

You disappear from sight, footsteps tapping down the hall to what JJ assumes must be the front door. He hears it creak on its hinges as you pull it open. Then, before you leave, you call out, “bye! Love you!”, and JJ’s left alone in silence.

The two words rattle around his brain. It clearly isn’t the first time you’ve said it to him. It was as flippant as bidding him good day or night. Casual. Routine. JJ’s eyes stare into the hallway as if stuck in a trance. The words give way for a question that fizzles into his consciousness.

Where the hell am I?

*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ sits in a ransacked mess of diaries and photo albums and bills and letters. He spends every second of every minute reading, obsessing, over every syllable and sentence. Things as mundane as credit card statements and mortgage agreements slot themselves in his mind as high importance. His neurons fawn over every snippet of information. The pictures burn themselves into his hippocampus. Birthday cards and Christmas cards and Valentine’s day cards exchanged between you and JJ. His handwriting mocks him. Your words read empty like glancing over a play’s script. There’s no connection between this JJ and the loving messages you leave. The teasing ones. The sappy ones. JJ isn’t sure why it upsets him so much.

He nearly leaps out of his skin when the front door opens, down the hall.

“JJ? Ready to head?”

John B.

Thank God.

JJ scrambles to his feet, kicking envelopes and pages of paper out of the way. He ventures out of the office and into the hall. John B’s familiar face makes JJ want to weep for joy. At least something was normal. In fact, John B looks so regular - so typically himself - that it confuses JJ more. It turns him suspicious.

None of this makes any sense. JJ suddenly finds it laughable how quickly convinced he was that he had been transported into another version of himself, living in a parallel universe, as if his life was some superhero movie. Whilst you were new, and this house was new, and this collection of property and items were new, John B wasn’t…

“Yo, good to go?” John B asks JJ.

JJ cracks up. He laughs and laughs, and shakes his head, and tries to catch his breath. John B’s face twists with confusion, mildly concerned at JJ’s abrupt hysterics.

“You good man?” he tentatively asks.

“Oh, this is gold. Seriously man, I’m impressed,” JJ admits, clutching his stomach. John B’s acting is top tier: he looks utterly dumbfounded. “I mean, that’s some hella good acting. Where’d you find her? Castle Hill? Seriously, chick deserves an Oscar for that performance.”

“I–” John B’s words die on his tongue. He swallows, brows furrowed tightly together. “Are you good? Is everything okay? Did something happen to Y/N?”

But JJ refuses to hear the genuine concern in John B’s voice. Instead, he takes a small lap of the hall. “I mean, this must’ve taken you hours. I don’t know how you knocked me out good enough to get all this sorted. Seriously - I’m just impressed.”

At the silence that follows, JJ finally takes pause. Hands in his short pockets, he looks up and takes in John B’s expression. His lifelong friend looks like he’s two sentences away from calling the nearest insane asylum. JJ’s smile falters. Something runs through him: sharp and cold. Dread. It pools like cement in his stomach, weighing him down and welding him into the ground.

“Are you pranking me right now?” John B asks. Then, as if he’s the one trying to make sense of this whole ordeal, he quirks a brow, and tries a smile. “Is this like some prank you and Y/N set up?”

JJ swallows. The dread doubles.

“Yeah man,” JJ chuckles. His voice is so dry. “Yeah man, I’m just messing with you.”

John B doesn’t seem to believe him at first. JJ lamely clicks his fingers at him, half-assedly flashing finger guns. “Had you going, huh?”

The relief that washes over John B is so visible, JJ knows this is real. John B crosses the room and slaps him on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion. “Don’t do that to me man, had me worried for a second there.”

“Nah, you know me. Just love joshing ya,” JJ murmurs weakly.

“Come on, man. We gotta get to the shop,” John B says, heading out the door. He shakes his head seemingly to himself, mumbling something under breath about ‘fucking JJ man’, and leaves JJ standing in the house alone. JJ takes another glance at the framed photos on the walls of the hall. You and him. Smiling, intertwined fingers, sunglasses on faces. He grabs what he assumes to be his house keys from a trinket dish by the door and follows after his friend, locking up behind him. Here’s to hoping JJ is a better actor than he thought, because he’s going to need to put on one hell of a show.

When JJ walks into the surf shop, it feels as though he’s stepped into a daydream. It’s exactly how he pictured it. Every detail is as if he spoke it into existence from nights spent smoking joints with John B, back in his universe. Hand painted wooden signs nailed to the walls, with puns and faux directions to beaches and surf breaks. Fishing and surfing gear, intermixed with snacks and drinks and supplies. Tourist information. Local produce and advertisements.

He strangely falls into his role rather fast. Picks up the strings quickly and puppets himself as he didn’t wake up in a different man’s bed this morning. Maybe it’s because the job is so natural for him, it doesn’t take much acting. Maybe he imagined doing it so much when he struggled to fall asleep, it functioned as training. John B gets over the strange interaction at the start of the day rather quickly. That to say, JJ is aware of the occasional glances he gets from his friend and now business partner. The twinge of concern that tipped his brow and lip when JJ would ask where something was kept, or how to use the till, or what time they close up shop. Things JJ should know but didn’t. At five-fifteen, John B dropped JJ back home. The lights were on in the kitchen; JJ could tell through the windows. You were home.

It smells like your perfume when JJ walks through the door. Melodically humming under breath, JJ can wanders to the kitchen to find you ransacking various cupboards.

“Hey.”

You startle, the tune halting to a stop on your tongue. Looking over your shoulder, you smile at him. Dazzling like morning sun. JJ imagines the smile he musters back makes it seem as though he’s constipated.

“How was work?” you ask him, taking one last glance into the cupboard before closing. You lean against the counter and look at him.

“A’right,” JJ shrugs.

“Have any more panic attacks?”

JJ shakes his head. You hum, smiling gently at him, as if not fully believing him, and nod. A piece of paper is plucked from your short pocket.

“Wanna help with the grocery shop?”

JJ feels as though he’s in a ‘choose your own adventure’ game. The decision he makes here might affect his later life: what would your JJ say?

“Sure,” he shrugs, noncommittal. You smile brightly and something tells him he chose correctly. He can practically see the text box appear at the bottom of the screen: she’ll remember that you said this.

“Come on then, fishy,” you chime, breezing past him. You capture his wrist with two fingers and pull him behind you with little effort. JJ follows like a shadow as you both load up into the car.

JJ has never known someone with such intense road rage before. For somebody who seems like they might make a good disciple for a mindfulness cult, you certainly have a way with the word ‘cunt’. As you boy-racer your way to the stores, JJ looks down at the shopping list you passed to him when the two of you got in the car. It’s typical: milk, eggs, bread, fruit.

“Anything you wanna add?” you ask him, having seen him reading the list.

“No, no. Sounds good,” JJ murmurs. He folds it up and pockets it. The car is quiet. The radio plays faintly in the background; the sound of tyres on tarmac is monotonous; something in the glove box rattles whenever you drive over a pothole. JJ wants to make conversation with you. He wants to say something, anything, but he has no idea how. You’re a stranger to him. A memory that he doesn’t recognise but should. He isn’t sure how to strike up casual small talk when he’s missed the entirety of your relationship. He’s not sure what casual small talk even looks like with you. His palms sweat as JJ stresses over every conversation starter, and before he can decide on one, you’re parking the car outside the store.

It’s wordless as you both climb out the car, retrieve a shopping cart and venture into the wonderland of Walmart. JJ walks along beside you, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, and peruses the aisles that the two of you walk up and down, up and down.

“Oh, we need pasta,” you say, turning left. JJ follows like an obedient dog. You squat down and hum, studying the different shapes. Picking out two packets, you turn and hold them up to him. “Which ones?”

JJ’s eyes flit from the Fuselli to the Penne. “I don’t mind,” he shrugs.

You hum again and study them some more. “I think the Fusilli. Penne looks too much like dicks.”

JJ snorts. You look up at him and smile. Then, you drop the pasta into the cart and continue the shopping trip. As you walk, you reel off ideas for what to have for dinner next week. JJ nods along and chimes in whenever needed, and it starts to feel normal. Domestic, but not in a boring way. Comfortable as you discuss whether fish pie or fried fish would be better for Wednesday night. The chips and snacks section has JJ’s attention. He stops short and grabs a bag of chips off the shelf. You wait for him. But as he brings the bag to the cart, you're frowning, mildly confused.

“What? You don’t like them?” he asks.

You eye him. “No, you don’t like them. You said they tasted like pig testies.”

JJ feels like he’s been caught in the act. It interrupts his flow, like a tree trunk having fallen in a river. Just as he was starting to feel somewhat normal in this abnormal reality, he slips, and the facade fails. You give him that look. The look that tells JJ that you know something is amiss, but aren’t quite sure what. Hell, JJ isn’t sure either. But he’s been good at lying his whole life. He had to be, to survive. So, JJ shrugs and drops them in the cart. “I guess I wanna try them again.”

“You wanna try pig testies again?”

“Yeah, well…Why not?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “A’right.”

The rest of the trip goes without a hitch. The two of you load up the bags, stock up the car, unpack everything into the cupboards and fridge and freezer. By the time everything’s tidied off, and JJ’s wolfed down some leftovers that were about to go bad, it’s apparently bedtime. At least, it seems to be, according to you.

You seem to like routine. JJ isn’t sure how he notices this with only one day of knowing you, but there’s something ritualistic in your evening routine that is a nod to your type-A tendencies. The cup of chamomile tea an hour before climbing under the covers. The skin care regimen takes nearly ten minutes. The taking of various pills and medicines, checking afterwards whether JJ had taken his too. Finally, after all of this has passed, with minty fresh breath, you sit beside JJ in bed. As you relax against the pillows and bury your nose in your book, JJ sits like a stuffed bear. He can’t soften his spine, refuses to sink into the mattress and comforter. His body is on high alert. Sure, you haven’t been overtly threatening to JJ today - quite the opposite, in fact - but that doesn’t shake the fact that you’re new. Enough new, confusing things have been curveballed at JJ today that sleep seems unlikely.

Dog-earing the page of your book, you sigh as you tuck it into the drawer of your bedside table. A finger hovers over the switch of your lamp. You glance back at JJ over your shoulder.

“Lights out?”

“Mhm,” he nods, stiff as a board. You click it off and the room becomes bathed in darkness. Bedsheets ruffle as you shuffle down to cosy up into the covers, and JJ assumes he should do the same. He lies on his back, arms by his side, staring at the ceiling, lifeless like a corpse. He blinks up, wide eyed, heart hammering like he’s sharing a bed with a woman for the first time. It summersaults when you plant a hand on his chest, atop of his t-shirt.

“Night, baby.”

“G’night,” JJ rasps. You hum, leave your hand on his chest, and JJ wastes his time awake listening to how your breathing slowly evens out into slow, deep inhales and exhales, like the susurrus of waves. The flicker of tranquility it brings him is shattered as you mumble, half-asleep, into your pillow: “love you.”

JJ doesn’t sleep for three hours. When the clock reads one in the morning, JJ slips out of the bed and bunks down on the sofa in the living room. He finally gets some rest.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You don’t wake JJ in the morning. Sunshine glaring in his face brings him to. On the counter of the kitchen is a note written on the back of yesterday’s shopping list.

At work until 3. Call if you need anything. Love you.

JJ toys with the corner of the paper until it wears off. He huffs out a breath, then eats, showers and dresses. John B reminded him (mildly concerned as he had been when answering most of JJ’s “obvious” questions) that he wasn’t on shift today. That left a day free to play detective. JJ turned the house upside down. Letters and photographs weren’t enough. He needed evidence. Something to confirm that this wasn’t just words that you’ve said and written which have generated this world. Instead, JJ finds boxes of his old clothes in the shed out back. He finds suitcases in the attic of his old toys from childhood. He finds his bike and a collection of tools. He finds report cards, shirts, trousers, boxers, hell, even his favourite brand of fucking condoms. Everything. All of it. The only thing that your JJ and JJ differed on were tastes in food. Holy shit, did this guy have bad taste. JJ cringed at the sight of the snacks in the cupboards before settling on a protein bar to quiet his grumbling stomach.

After exhausting himself with household rummaging, JJ ventured out into Kildare. He hadn’t properly seen it yesterday. Instead, he passed by houses and stores in cars. He takes his time. Surveys the land like an inspector, as if checking if the cracks in the pavement are the same, or the wonky street sign from when Landon Peters crashed his car after a darty. A few stores are the same. A few are different. A few missing. JJ finds his feet guiding him to the Heyward’s residence. As he gets nearer with every step, a small ball of dread builds and builds in his stomach like a snowball tumbling down a mountain edge. What if Pope and Kie aren’t here? What if Pope and Kie don’t exist? What if he never sees them again?

The Heyward emblem on the side of the building quells his anxiety for a beat. More so when Mr and Mrs Heyward step out of the store together into the daylight glow, carrying brown paper bags filled with groceries that JJ assumes are for delivery on Figure Eight. It’s nice to see some things stay the same. He makes his way over. Before JJ can overthink whether Mr Hayward knows him, the older man catches the blonde-haired boy’s eyes and smiles. A friendly, familiar smile.

“Hey! What’re you doing out this end, kid?”

“Hey Mr H,” JJ grins. He gladly accepts the embrace. He smells like soap and sweat and faintly of seafood. “Pope around?”

“Pope? He ain’t back for another month.”

“Month?” JJ frowns, stepping away. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts and rocks on his heels. “From where?”

Mr Heyward looks puzzled. He hands Mrs Heyward another bag and she loads it into the bed of the truck. “From college, boy. Boston ain’t a short journey from here, y’know?”

Boston?

“Oh, right,” JJ chuckles, hoping he plays it well. “Must’ve got my dates muddled.”

“How’s the wife?” Heyward asks. JJ’s blood runs cold. It’s an expression, JJ, get a grip, he berates himself.

“She’s good. Yeah, she’s good,” JJ says, hoping his mild look of terror isn’t obvious.

“Always working that one, huh?”

“Always,” JJ bobs his head. He juts his chin back to the road. “Anyway, I should head out. I’m running errands, s’all. I’ll see y’all later.”

“See ya, JJ.”

“Take care!” Mrs Hayward calls, waving farewell. JJ waves back and ventures back onto the road. Soothed by the fact that the Heywards and John B were the same as always, he decides The Wreck is the next best place to stop. It isn’t as though the Carreras are JJ’s biggest fan either way, so if they’re hostile, at least it’s consistent. So long as Kie is still, well, Kie - that’s all JJ is worried about.

He finds her scrubbing down a table. There’s a bandana in her hair, keeping it off her face, and she’s got that same disgruntled resting expression as she works. She’s just as he remembered her to be. It’s quiet at The Wreck. A family dines in the corner - the mother trying to wrangle her restless child - and a couple sits outside on the jetty, talking over pancakes.

“Kie! Make sure that table for eight is all set up, yeah?”

“Yeah mom!” Kiara calls back to the disembodied voice that emerged from the kitchen. Then, ehr eyes glance over to the doorway, landing on JJ. She smiles and JJ takes a small victory breath of relief. “Hey!”

She quickly makes her over, tossing an arm around him in a hug. The spray bottle of disinfectant bangs softly against his back.

“What’re you doing here? You and Y/N stop by for food?” she asks. JJ watches as she stores the spray and cloth in the waitress station.

“Oh, uh, no, just me. She’s working,” he says.

“I miss that girl. Feels like it’s been ages since we hung out,” Kiara hums. She begins to push together some tables and JJ decides to help. “The manager at the smoothie shop still giving her grief?”

“Not really sure,” JJ mumbles. Kie pauses, looking up at him. Her brows twitch.

“Everything good, dude? You seem kinda off.”

“I’m fine,” JJ replies. He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders back, as if to drive home the point. Nodding, he adds, “all good here.”

“You guys have a fight?” she asks, frowning.

“No,” JJ answers, tone slightly quipped. It’s driving him crazy. He does his best to act nonchalant, to act normal, and all people want to talk about is this random girl that he’s tied to and grill him on why he isn’t being “himself”.

Kiara seems to take the hint. She finishes organising the tables so they can seat the party of eight arriving later. JJ sighs and calms himself a beat. The bell dings from the kitchen: order up. Kiara goes to pass him but stops, planting a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. JJ meets her gaze.

“Look, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here, man. Always.”

“Thanks Kie,” he says, genuine. Kiara smiles at him and he manages one back, and then she disappears into the kitchen to gather up the order for the chaotic family of four. JJ takes one last glance around the restaurant before leaving. He makes note of the time on the old-timey analog clock hung on the wall, amongst old fishing gear displayed in wooden cases, and sepia prints of Kildare over the years. Three-twenty-five. You’ll be home, then. He wonders what your JJ feels when he thinks that. Does a thrill run through him, like an electric current from his head to toe? Does it calm him, like the notion of wrapping yourself up in a warm blanket after a long day in the rain? Maybe he’s indifferent. You might be as familiar to him as butter on bread or ice in water. He’s certain, however, that he doesn’t feel this sense of panic at the thought of you pottering around your house. That the mere idea of you kissing him ‘hello’ doesn’t fill your JJ with dread, like it does for him.

He takes the long way back. Drags out every step, every moment. But eventually, inevitably, he returns to the house. You’re cooking. Hair pulled back, strands falling out, an oversized t-shirt hanging over your frame that JJ quickly identifies as his. The radio is on. It’s static-like as it plays sixties music. You hum along, hips swaying slightly, as you stir something in the pot. It smells like it might be gumbo.

“Hey,” JJ says.

“Hey,” you reply, not bothering to look up from the pot. JJ watches as you lift a wooden spoon. “Come taste this. You think it’s missing something?”

JJ makes his way over until he’s standing by your side. You glance up at him, a small smile pretty on your lips, and JJ takes the spoon. He sips the broth: small bubbles sit atop of the surface from the heat. It’s hot - nearly scorches his tongue - but he swallows. Savours the flavours that fizzle on his tongue: tangy, spicy, warming. You watch him as he thinks.

“Maybe some more garlic?”

“Garlic! Of course!” you gasp, as if you had a ‘eureka’ moment. JJ bites back his laugh as you head to the fridge, retrieving a clove of garlic. He leans against the counter by the sink and watches your cut and dice the clove. The air is sticky with heat and food. It clings to his skin, shining it with sweat. You’re much less threatening like this - lost in your own world - similar to how you were when the two of you went shopping together. He takes a quiet moment to admire you. The curve of your body. The melodic tunefulness of your voice as you sing along to a song underbreath. The stretch of your legs disappearing beneath the hem of the t-shirt. A tattoo peeks out from the sleeve of your right arm. It looks like a flower of some sort. JJ cocks his head and narrows his eyes, trying to make it out. But then you’re turning, looking over your shoulder, and JJ’s eyes dart up as if he’s been caught red handed. “Oh, I forgot to say,” you start, seemingly unaware of his quiet gaze, “your dad called. Said he wants you to stop by sometime soon.”

“My dad?” JJ checks. You hum, nod, turn back to the board to carry it over to the pot of gumbo.

“Mhm. Said something about giving you those ‘things’ you were asking after. Seemed pretty secretive,” you reply. JJ thinks you might be joking from your tone but he can’t be sure. He grabs a piece of onion skin from the countertop and busies his hands with it, ripping small pieces off.

“He’s probably lying. Just an excuse to get money off me again or something.” The onion peel falls to the floor as he rips it in two. You’re frowning when you look at him, face the picture of concern.

“Did something happen between the two of you? You guys get in a fight or somethin’?”

JJ laughs, hard and sharp, like glass shattering. You flinch, alarmed. The look on your face has his humour dying fast, a candle flame blown out by a gust of wind. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I thought you guys were cool now.”

Cool? Not a chance in hell.

But JJ didn’t have the energy to try and explain that to you. Instead, he shrugged, closing down. “Whatever. I’ll go see him tonight.”

“Want me to come with?” you ask, chirpy as always.

“S’cool, I’ll go alone,” JJ mumbles.

“You sure? I haven’t seen them–”

“--Christ sake, can I get a minute alone?” JJ snaps.

You recoil. Physically recoil. The shock quickly fades into sadness, and maybe even a furl of anger as your lips slowly close, and frown at the edges. You ease the spoon back into the pot, shutting off the heat. JJ can feel the apology creeping up his throat but he swallows it down. You’re aggravating. Irritatingly bright and smiley and nice. Acting like you know him. Like you know what’s best for him. But he can see the pain sink into your skin and something in his gut tells him he’s done wrong. Your eyes press shut and you seem to gather yourself with a slow, measured breath in.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you say in an even, steady tone. You meet his eyes. Shake your head once. “Don’t talk to me like that, JJ.”

He’s left alone in the kitchen. JJ’s not sure if he’s ever felt so cruel before. He doesn’t eat, instead leaving the house for a long, drawn out walk. By the time he’s back, it’s pitch black outside, and all the lights in the house are turned off. There’s a bowl of leftover food waiting for him, kept warm with tinfoil over the top. He leaves it be and saddles up on the couch, falling asleep soon after.

*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ finds ways to make himself scarce during the day. He does so for a week. Busies himself at work, picking up extra shifts, taking long walks, driving around on his bike until daylight turns to night, and hangs out with John B or Kiara at the docks. The routine you stick to at night is easy to crack. JJ times his return after you’ve already bathed, and by the time he’s washed up, you’re in bed, reading. Sometimes the light’s already out. For a few nights, you tried to initiate sex. Your hands would wander up, under his shirt, tracing the freckles on his skin. He’d shiver and edge away until your hand retracted, falling limp by your face. Not tonight, he’d mumble, I’m too tired. After four nights, you stopped trying. Even then, JJ couldn’t find it in him to share the bed with you. It felt wrong, intrusive. He couldn’t rest knowing you were right there beside him. He’d always creep off to the sofa. He knew you’d notice but you never mentioned it. Never even asked.

On the eighth day in this alternate reality, JJ goes surfing. You’re working a shift at the smoothie shop. John B and JJ have a day off from the shop. The breaks are stunning. It’s as if the waves are works of art, tugging him in, luring him under. He spends hours on the surface, balancing his weight on the board as if he were born on one. He eats at The Wreck, chatting with Kiara. He buys a seltzer on the walk home, enjoying the sun and his own company, and yet…something feels wrong. Empty, maybe. Like there’s a piece of him that’s unfulfilled. It doesn’t make sense. His routine is hardly different to that of his old life, before he ended up here, and yet he feels dissatisfied. As if he’s overturned every rock except for one. Gathered every jewel except for the largest pendant. He tries to place his finger on it as he walks back to the house, as the sun takes on a delicious orange glow to warn of its setting.

The front door isn’t fully closed as JJ walks up the porch steps. He frowns, pushes gently against the wood, and something tells him to remain unannounced. Voices drift from the living room towards the doorway and he lingers. Listens.

“-a completely different person,” you say. Your voice sounds thick with tears, stuffy from a blocked noise. You sniffle. It sounds as though you’re crying as you take a shaky breath. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“It’ll be a’right,” John B murmurs. JJ studies the wooden slats of the flooring. You try to catch your breath, stifling your sobs.

“I thought we were doing okay, y’know? Like I thought we were gonna get married, and s-start a family, and do all the things we talked about. But now…It’s like he’s pulling away from me, and I don’t even know what I did.”

The sob that racks up your throat has JJ wincing. His eyes press shut and he swallows the bile itching at his throat. Somehow, in the disorientation of trying to navigate a whole new life, he forgot about you despite being surrounded by your presence nearly every moment of every day. He didn’t consider you. Never considered how this must be for you. You and JJ had been together for years, in this reality. Of course you could tell something was wrong with him. It wasn’t as though he was hiding it well. JJ had spent so much of his life alone that he never thought about what this might be like for you - a careless slip of selfishness.

“Hey, c’mere,” John B says softly. JJ hears a rustle of clothing and he assumes John B must be holding you, soothing you through the turmoil that you’d been unwillingly tossed into. “This is JJ we’re talking about. You and JJ. Everybody knows the two of you are meant to be together. He’s probably just stuck in his head about something. He’ll come around. He always does.”

There’s no response for a while. Your crying has quieted, the occasional sniff and cough, and JJ wonders whether to make his presence known. But something tells him the conversation isn’t quite over, and he’s reluctant to face the image of you in pain because of him. When you speak, your voice is so fragile it’s made of cobwebs.

“But John B…What if he doesn’t?”

JJ can’t take it. He pointedly clicks the door shut. Takes two heavy footsteps in the hallway. Musters up the actor inside of him to sound nonchalant as he calls, “I’m back!”

“Shit,” you hiss. There’s some kind of movement in the living room and JJ drags out the motions of toeing off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket. He drops his keys in the trinket bowl by the doorway and makes his way into the main space. John B sits on the couch. You’re stood at the kitchen sink, back to JJ, pretending to wash dishes.

“Hey man,” JJ says, nodding to John B.

“Hey,” John B replies. He’s not hiding it well, the conversation the two of you just shared. There’s an unease in his eyes, a furrow to his forehead. JJ tries to look past it. “Wanted to talk to you about shift patterns next week. You cool working Wednesday and Thursday? We’ll take Saturday together. Tuesday and Sunday off, and I’ll cover Monday and Friday.”

“Works for me,” JJ nods. He looks over to the kitchen once more. You wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and, as if sensing his stare, glance over your shoulder. Your cheeks are damp, the stickiness of dried tears reflecting in the dwindling sunlight. It’s obvious you’ve been crying. And yet, the smile you place on your lips is frighteningly convincing. JJ smiles at you, wondering if it looks as apologetic as he feels. “Hey. How was work?”

“It was good,” you say, voice a little wobbly. “Pretty quiet.”

“That’s good,” JJ hums. John B clears his throat and rises from the couch, drawing both of your attention.

“I better head out. Sarah’s cooking sticky ribs for dinner.”

“Ooh, sounds tasty,” you hum. “Tell her hi from me.”

“Course,” John B says, smiling warmly at you. There’s something in the look he sends you, a message almost of ‘I’m here if you need anything’. He turns to JJ and places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a brotherly fashion. The way he looks at him is weighted. Telling JJ that he knows something isn’t quite right, but doesn’t know how to bring it up. JJ gives a subtle nod and tries a smile. Then John B is down the hall and out the door.

It’s silent in the house. You’re meddling with the kitchen towel between your hands, watching the movement with an absent mind. JJ’s never been good at knowing what to say to you. He feels it more now than ever. Rolling his lips together, he contemplates sentences, weighs them in his head before deciding.

“You wanna order in tonight?”

Your head darts up. “Oh…Not tonight.”

JJ nods, pursing his lips.

“I might take a bath,” you tell him. “Feeling kinda unwell.”

“Need some medicine? Soup?”

Your lips twitch with a smile. It’s small, but it’s something. “No, that’s alright. Thank you.”

JJ gives another nod. You tuck the kitchen towel on the hook and make your way past him, into the bathroom. A few seconds later, JJ hears the sound of running water, and the door clicks closed. He sighs and runs a hand over his face, through his hair. It feels like a mess he doesn’t know how to fix. Other JJ would. He’d know your tells and your remedies. The things to say to wind up in your good books, to help you feel listened to and seen, to make you feel better. But to this JJ, you were little more than a stranger. Like a character from a book or a movie, he only knew of you in the small snapshots he’d found in journals and pictures and fleeting moments spend in your company. Company that he found himself avoiding.

He decides to visit his dad’s house. Afterall, you’d mentioned that his dad wanted to see him. He felt shitty enough - an altercation with his father couldn’t make things much worse, could they. JJ leaves the house without a word to you.

JJ hardly recognises his father’s house. It’s the same yellow coloured boarding; the same white window frames and doors; the same greyish-brown netting surrounding the porch. And yet, it’s as if new life has been breathed into it. As if the wood is glowing beneath the paint and the wire net free from dirt and grime. Perhaps it’s the lack of clutter around it. There’s a garden to the left, growing what looks to be vegetables and herbs. There’s the usual fishing gear stacked inside the porch but it’s tidy, not tossed to the side half-drunk when a semi-successful day on the boat has concluded. There’s a wind chime painted with magenta and turquoise twinkling pretty in the evening breeze as JJ makes his way up the stairs. He raps his knuckles on the door.

Things were undoubtedly different in this reality compared to his own. JJ was curious whether this went for his father too, and if so, in what way. He pushed the small bubble of hope deep into the pit of his stomach until it dissolved in his acid. He wouldn’t let himself imagine it might be for the better. Too many times had his dad let him down, he wasn’t about to kid himself again.

Footsteps creak from inside the house and JJ’s heart hiccups, pushing into his throat. Please don’t be drunk, he silently begs, just as he hears the lock turning. The door opens and JJ comes face to face with someone who looks the spitting image of his dad. But this dad is clean shaven, fresh faced, bright eyed, and smiling.

“Hey, boy,” Luke grins, voice raspy. He tugs JJ into a hug of sorts; one he doesn’t reciprocate. Luke doesn’t seem to notice nor care. He wanders into the house, expecting JJ to follow, and he does eventually. It smells delicious: deep fried chicken and fries. The house becomes no more familiar as JJ walks through it. The kitchen is spotless aside from a small, contained pile of dishes near the sink. A bowl full of fresh fruit sits out enticingly, not a single spore of mould in sight. The walls are covered in paintings and pictures: many of JJ grinning over the years, holding either a fishing rod or surfboard or sitting atop of his dirt bike. He lingers by one of you and him, his arm hooked over your shoulder, the two of you grinning brightly into the camera lens. You’re both standing in front of the house you currently reside in, a set of keys dangling proudly from your finger, and JJ assumes it must have been right after you bought it.

“You want a beer, boy?”

“Uh, sure,” JJ mumbles, finally drawing his eyes away from the picture frame. His dad pulls the fridge open and retrieves two bottles, passing one over. “Thanks.”

“Come on, let’s sit out back,” Luke says, leading them through the rest of the house and onto the back porch. JJ freezes in the doorway as his eyes land on another person. His stomach flips and falls through the floor. The universe laughs at the new curveball it’s tossed in JJ’s direction.

“Hiya honey!” JJ’s mom smiles. She pats the spot next to her on the outdoor sofa. “Was hoping you were gonna come by tonight.”

JJ’s body works on auto-pilot as he sinks into the seat beside his mother. He can’t stop staring at her - aware that he must look half-crazed. She’s just as he remembered her to be from foggy childhood memories. Her crows feet sprouting by her eyes as she smiles, nose wrinkling and dimples shining. Her blonde hair falls in soft ringlets around her face, half-pulled back in a low ponytail. She’s wearing a denim shirt that’s a little oversized on her frame and JJ wonders if it’s his father’s, and that in itself sends him spiralling because how is he in a version of his life where his mom wears his dad’s clothes. His staring must cause concern because her smile fades into a frown, brows tugging together.

“You alright, JJ? You’ve got white as a ghost,” she fusses, planting a hand to his forehead in the way you had done not so long ago. JJ half expects hi fingers to go through her wrist like she’s a phantom as he eases her hand away from his head.

“I’m a’right,” he murmurs.

“Your girl was telling us you haven’t been yourself lately. She’s worried you’re coming down with a flu of some kind,” Luke says from the armchair to the right. JJ sighs, closing his eyes, and rocking his head back in his seat.

“No, I’m fine. She just worries, s’all.”

“Hm.” Despite not hearing his mom’s voice in years, JJ knows that tone. He cracks open an eye. She’s studying him, pursed lips. “You two having a fight or something?”

“Something…” JJ eventually replies.

“I remember when me and your dad would fight. God, it’s like there weren’t enough words to say - ain’t that right, Luke?”

“Damn straight,” he grunted, tipping his bottle in some mock cheers.

“But y’know what we found worked?” JJ shakes his head. His mom smiles reassuringly. “We talked. Talked and talked, and listened to each other, and figured it all out. All the things we’d been speaking but not really saying, y’know?”

JJ nods dumbly, not quite sure if he does understand, but glad to take the advice nonetheless. She glances back at Luke - a Luke that seemingly didn’t know a life of addiction and crime - and pokes her tongue out at him playfully as he jests something, and JJ feels the world melt away as he looks at his mom. Suddenly, he throws his arms around her. She gasps, taken aback, but soon returns the hug. She smells like her dresses used to before JJ’s dad threw them all out: her perfume no longer a pungent reminder of something lost.

“I missed you mama,” JJ says thickly into her shoulder.

“Darlin’, I’m ever so worried about you,” she croons into his ear. JJ feels like a kid again, cuddled in her lap after a nightmare, listening to her sing nursery rhymes until his eyes would begin to sag once more. She runs a hand over his t-shirt clad back. “I’m sure whatever the two of you have been squabbling over will be mealworms by next week, my darlin’ boy.”

JJ clenches his eyes shut.

“Maybe this ain’t the best timing to give you these things you asked for then, huh?” Luke speaks up. JJ reluctantly untethers from his mom (making a point to keep his hand safely secured between her two palms) and looks to his dad. In his fingers is a small black box which looks to be made out of felt or velvet. When Luke cracks it open, a ring glimmers in the dying daylight. It’s an impressive diamond jewel, reflecting rainbows on the ceiling of the porch. JJ’s throat goes dry.

An engagement ring. Those ‘things’ you were asking after. Seemed pretty secretive. Your words echo around JJ’s head.

Luke must sense that JJ is about a half minute from spiraling into the underworld. He clicks the box closed and slips it into his short pockets. “How ‘bout I keep safe keeping of it for now, hm?”

JJ gives a stiff nod. His mom squeezes his hand, gathering his attention once more. “Let’s talk about something else, hm? How’s work been?”

The conversation comes easy in a way JJ has never known before. He hangs on his mother’s every word as if listening to the word of God from the heaven’s above. The way she laughs, the stories and yarns she spins, the small jesting jokes between her and Luke. His father is just as bewitching. He’s happy - truly happy - and he keeps reminiscing about the past in a way that doesn’t make JJ feel like he wasted his father’s time. They both steer clear of topics relating to you and JJ is grateful to have a moment free of worrying about what the hell he’s going to do if he’s stuck in this reality forever. But conversation can only last so long. It grows darker and darker. JJ finally finds the courage to face going back to the house.

He hugs his mom and dad for longer than necessary and he knows it must worry them. They share a look when he lingers in the doorway. Before he departs, his mom takes him by the shoulder.

“Just talk to her, yeah? The two of y’all will figure it out. You always do,” she reassures. JJ takes a small breath and nods, smiling.

“Thanks mom.”

“Get home safe,” she tells him, voice a little sterner, and presses a kiss goodbye to his cheek. With that, JJ heads out the door, down the porch steps, and back towards the house with a newfound purpose: to have a conversation with you.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The porch is a nice reprieve from JJ’s inner spiral. He sits on the swing that you so often favour and smokes a joint. It doesn’t clear his thoughts very much but it does calm him down. Slows his mind, eases his chest. He watches and sits and thinks in circles about this strange life he’s fallen into until it becomes dark. It’s unclear how long he’s been sitting there - maybe an hour - but eventually he knows he can’t delay facing you any longer.

He takes his time doing his evening routine. Brushes his teeth with precision. Washes his face twice. JJ stares himself down in the mirror as water drips down his cheeks. Grow a Goddamn backbone, he thinks to himself. She needs you. Swallowing his fear, he grabs a towel and rubs it over his face, drying his skin. The light clicks off as JJ leaves the bathroom.

You’re lying on your side in bed, facing the wall. The sheets are tucked up to your shoulders. You look cosy; safe in your cocoon of sheets. JJ shrugs off his shorts, leaving on his boxers and shirt, and flips off the light. You don’t say a word and yet somehow, JJ knows you’re awake. He slips under the sheets and hesitates for only a handful of seconds, before looping an arm over your waist. He spoons you in a loose grip, swallowing away the twinge of guilt, feeling as though he’s holding someone else’s girl. You turn in his hold, now face to face, heads on pillows. JJ can’t see you well in the darkness of the room. Your eyes shine, staring at him, studying him, perhaps looking for evidence to confirm that JJ wasn’t your JJ. Then, they press shut. JJ’s surprised how much it bothers him. It feels as though you’ve closed a door in his face: blocked him out. There’s a shaky intake of breath. It comes out of your nose slowly.

“I need to ask this cause…Cause I’ll be an idiot if I don’t. And I hate that I’m about to - God, you have no idea how much I hate it - but…But I have to,” you murmur. JJ’s brows tug together; he’s unsure if he missed the beginning of the sentence. Your eyes open into his. You look terrified. Sick, even. There’s a curl to your lips that makes JJ worry that you might begin to cry. But you don’t. Instead, your voice is eerily steady as you ask him: “is there someone else?”

“No.”

It’s an easy answer. Simple. Truthful.

You seem to recognise this. You exhale a breath that you seem to have been holding in for weeks. Eyes slipping shut, you take a moment.

“God, you must hate me for even asking,” you whisper. JJ shakes his head. His hand instinctively reaches out for yours under the sheets; he captures your fingers. The touch has you opening your eyes, a flicker of surprise dashing across your beautiful features.

“I don’t hate you for asking,” JJ tells you quietly. “I get why you did. If I were you - if I was in your shoes, I mean - I’d ask the same, probably.”

You stare at him for a long while. Shaking your head, you say into the night, “what happened, JJ? One day you were fine and the next…” You cut yourself off with a sigh. “It’s like you went somewhere.”

JJ swallows. His heart hiccups in his chest.

“You can tell me anything,” you suddenly say, as if sensing his anxiety. “Y’know that right? Anything at all. I mean, this is us. Y’know I’d never judge you.”

It’s terrifying, how easy you trust him, and how easy you expect him to trust you. It’s unnatural for JJ to open himself up to people. Flick open the cavity of his chest and allow you to take a peek. But something about you tells him it’s okay. That he can let some of the curtain fall. That it might even help.

“It’s gonna sound insane,” JJ whispers.

You shrug. “I like insane. Most things you tell me are insane.”

He gives a small laugh. It’s fleeting, short-lived. Your fingers squeeze his reassuringly. One of his legs slips between yours, as if his body is seeking you out, needing to be closer as if to ground him. He wonders if it was only his mind that came to this foreign world. Maybe his body remained at home, and this new body - other JJ’s body - knew you like muscle memory. Craved your company and closeness. Recognised your touch. He lets himself indulge. Sighs quietly at the feel of your foot swiping over his, capturing him in this strange embrace.

Looking at you is too much, so he closes his eyes as he admits, “the other week, I woke up in this bed, and I felt like I was in a different world.”

You don’t say a word.

“It was like I woke up in a dream. It was me, but it wasn’t me. Like I’ve possessed another person’s body. And I don’t…I don’t know how to get back.”

The silence stretches. JJ feels stifled by it. Suffocates in the deafening quiet. Then, bedsheets crinkle, and JJ nearly jumps at the sensation of your forehead pressing against his: warm skin resting atop his own.

“Thank you for telling me,” you whisper.

JJ suddenly wants to cry. Is this what it’s like for him? He thinks to himself. Can your JJ tell you anything, and you just accept it? Is it that easy for him? There’s a rush of something green in his stomach: jealous. It’s quick in its coming and going like a flickering bulb.

“I just need you to be patient whilst I figure this out,” JJ confesses to you, eyes still shut. You nod against him. “I promise I’ll figure it out, I just…I just need you to be patient.”

“Whatever you need,” you hum. Your hand sweeps over his face, cradling his cheek and jaw, and JJ finally musters up enough courage to open his eyes. You’re beautiful, glowing in the darkness, radiant in the barely-there moonlight. There’s so much love in your eyes, it’s petrifying. “You’re it for me, JJ. I’m not giving up on us easily. Gonna have to try harder than that.”

JJ isn’t sure why, but he leans into your touch. “It’s nothing you’ve done. I need you t’know that. Nothing you’ve done at all.”

You needed to hear that. A visible weight rolls off your shoulders from his words. He presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, tilting his head just slightly, and he realises that this might be the most intimate moment of his life. Raw. Vulnerable. Gentle.

“You’re perfect,” JJ tells you, and he means it.

Smiling softly, you lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips. It comes and goes too quickly for JJ to realise it’s happened. He wants you to do it again, but he doesn’t say. Doesn’t kiss you in return. He just lets himself lay in your hold, and you in his. His eyes slip shut and for the first time since he woke up in this parallel world, he feels relaxed.

“Get some sleep, baby,” you whisper. The pad of your thumb strokes dotingly over the apple of his cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Thank God: it’s the last coherent thought JJ has before he drifts off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ woke up the next morning safe and warm in bed. You talk in your sleep: murmur little half-phrases underbreath, nose scrunching from time to time as if the figments of your subconsciousness annoy you. He’s shameless as he watches you sleep. Eventually, you stir and your eyes blink open. The smile that greets him makes him melt into the sheets.

“Mornin’,” you mumble, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

“Mornin’.”

“You had coffee yet?”

“Waitin’ for you to wake-up,” he half-lies. He was mostly distracted by watching you. “You at work today?”

“Yup,” you yawn, rolling onto your back. You stretch your arms above your head and point your toes, like a cat waking from a nap. The limbs flop back onto the duvet with a soft thud. “Long one too.”

“I’m at the shop with John B,” JJ tells you. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Good,” you hum. The sheets are pushed off you and you sit up in bed and stretch once more, your arm flexing and bending above your head. The hem of your shirt rides up and JJ can’t help but be fascinated by the ripple of your muscles under skin as you wake up your body. Then, you’re heading to the door, calling something about making coffee. JJ takes a moment to gather himself before following.

As if the conversation last night hit reset, everything felt smoother. JJ stepped into a morning routine that felt almost familiar. Perhaps it was the ease with which you moved through the steps: coffee, bathroom, breakfast, dress…JJ overhears your singing through the bathroom door as he finished his smoothie bowl. He listens to the rumblings of a podcast from the bedroom whilst he undergoes his morning routine in the bathroom. At least all the products are the same. His fingers hover at the medicine bottles in the cupboard. Well, might as well play the part, he thinks to himself, and with a committal shrug, he tosses the prescribed pills back.

Work is second-nature now. John B’s looks of concerns are less so, then JJ knows his worry remains. He imagines the conversation shared with you that JJ overheard had done little to ease his best friend’s mind. JJ wants to acknowledge it and tell John B how he’d cleared the air with you, but that would give away at his eavesdropping, and so he let the matter go. Instead, he made passing comments about how he was planning to have dinner with you tonight. ‘Spend some quality time together, y’know?’ he’d said oh-so-casually. The tension that visibly slipped from John B’s shoulders didn’t go unnoticed.

As usual, the house smelt like cooking when JJ arrived home. You were in the kitchen and just like it had been with John B, the change in you was obvious to the eye. Except, with you, it was far more bewitching. JJ lent against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, and watched you dance to the radio with a small smirk on his face.

“Don’t go on any talent shows anytime soon, yeah?”

You nearly jump six-feet in the air. With a blinding smile, you roll your eyes. “What? You don’t think I’ve got what it takes?”

“No, no,” JJ says, smiling as he approaches you, “I just think you might shock the world with your ability.”

“Mmm. You might be officially out of the dog house, now,” you grin. You hook an arm over his shoulder, holding the other (armed with a spoon) away from his clean clothes. JJ’s heart stammers foolishly at the simple intimate act, but he steels himself in place. You needed this, he reminds himself. He was doing this for you. His hands come to your waist and the two of you sway like trees in a summer evening breeze, rocking from foot to foot.

“How was work?” he asks you.

You smile up at him. “Better knowing I was coming home to you.”

JJ’s heart damn near stops. How the hell did the other JJ get through life with you looking at him like that, and saying things that could be put in movies so casually, as if it were an everyday thing.

Pushing onto your toes, you press a kiss to his lips. Just like last night, it’s quick and fleeting, but this time it lingers, tingling his lips, and he stands, stupefied, as you return to the stove. “I’m doing barbeque beans and fried chicken.”

“Sounds great. You want me to do anything?” JJ wonders.

“Maybe grab us two beers and start the popcorn?”

JJ’s brows furrow. “The popcorn?” he checks.

You nod, glancing over your shoulder to him. “Yeah. For horror movie night.”

“Oh,” JJ says. He nods and does as he’s asked. As the popcorn crackles in the microwave, he racks his brain for whether this ‘horror movie night’ has been mentioned before. Despite all his research at the start of this crazy ride, he hadn’t necessarily read the diaries and journals, but more pursued them to clarify whether this was some elaborate prank or not. Now he was kicking himself: perhaps there might have been some clues in there about traditions and celebrations. Celebrations. JJ’s skin goes cold. God he hopes he doesn’t miss some anniversary…

“It’s my choice tonight, don’t forget,” you tell him as you pass by, a bowl in each hand: one with beans, the other with chicken drumsticks. “Since you made me sit through The Blob.”

“Great movie,” JJ grins.

You roll your eyes mirthfully, shooting him a pointed look. “Terrible movie.”

“That’s what makes it so great,” he counters.

“How the hell are we together?” you sardonically mutter to yourself. You retrieve your beer and two plates, and JJ tentatively pulls the popcorn out of the microwave, frightened of burning himself, and soon enough, you’re both sat on the sofa, ready for horror movie night to commence.

“Not that one,” JJ says as you scroll through various horror flicks. You side-eye him, mouth full of half-chewed chicken.

“I think you’re forgetting this is my choice of movie,” you remind through your chewing.

“I’m just guiding you in avoiding a bad life decision,” he shrugs with a playful grin, reaching for another drumstick.

“Bit late for that, pal,” you snigger. Eventually, you settle on a horror movie from the eighties: ‘Chopping Mall.’ It looks terrible from the movie poster: silver text that’s supposed to resemble dripping blood, with a neon red shopping bag below. An eye pokes out and the tagline reads across the bag: ‘where shopping can cost you an arm and a leg.’ “Do you think they already had that tagline in mind and made the movie around it?”

JJ laughs. You’d taken so long in deciding that the two of you were practically done eating. He places his plate atop of yours on the coffee table and relaxes back into the couch cushions. You toss your legends up into his lap. The opening credits roll. JJ’s hand comes to rest on your calve and he rubs slow, deep circles into the skin. In the corner of his eye, he finds your smile, and he tries to bite back his own.

Watching movies in silence is, apparently, not your thing. JJ’s relieved, as he also struggles to sit in silence for extended periods of time. You make commentaries, tease the actors and characters, mimic their lines and follow it with ‘I could have been in this movie’, and heckle the script. JJ isn’t sure how or why this ‘tradition’ began, but Horror Movie night was a stroke of genius.

“Damn, she can run pretty fast, huh?” you mumble as the trio of characters sprint through the shopping mall, away from the very-non-threatening robot.

“Channeling her inner Tom Cruise,” JJ agrees. You giggle and it feels like a reward. All too quickly he’s come to learn that he loves the sound of your laughter. The action scene continues, and suddenly ‘Rick’ is superhero jumping off the top of the elevator.

“Rick!” another character yells out.

“Woah,” you and JJ whistle in unison.

“He’s pretty cute, huh?”

“Who? The robot?” JJ frowns.

“No. ‘Rick’,” you reply, gesturing to the screen.

JJ’s frown deepens. “No way.”

“You don’t think? Google who the actor is.”

“No!” JJ laughs. Maybe it’s the beer that has him joshingly adding, “You got all the eye candy you could need right here, baby.”

You cock your head, smile twisting into something darker. Your teeth catch your lower lip. “Hm…I guess I do, don’t I?”

Something shifts. JJ’s throat goes dry like a virgin on prom night. He looks back to the screen and takes a swig of his beer. Your eyes watch him, not quite as intense as a hawk, but certainly enough for him to feel holes burn into his cheeks. It makes him smile.

“You’re missing the movie.”

“It’s a shit movie.”

“I told you to pick a good one.”

“Better than ‘The Blob.’”

JJ’s head whips around to meet your gaze. You’re grinning from ear to ear. He grins back. Cocks a brow. “You gonna take that back?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum innocently, shaking your head. JJ’s hand locks around your ankle and he tugs you closer to him across the couch.

“Take it back,” he demands, smile growing the closer you get. You don’t resist, simply shake your head, trying and failing to bite back your shit-eating grin. “I mean it - take it back.”

“What’re you gonna do about it if I don’t?” you challenge, leaning forward until he can smell the shampoo in your hair. Your eyes are stunning: twinkling with a liveliness JJ’s not sure he’s ever known. There’s a little scar above one of your eyebrows. The beginnings of laughter lines on your forehead. Your lips are what draws him in, though. Plump and damp from your messing. Smiling. His hand moves without cause: fingers crawling over your cheek until he’s cradling your jaw in his palm. Something ticks in him when you lean into his touch, your smile softening like ice cream melting on your tongue. Your fingers creep up his chest, hooking into the collar of his shirt, and JJ lets you tug him in, closer, closer, until his lips find yours. JJ isn’t sure why, but he quietly confesses: “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

It’s different from the other kisses you’ve shared with him. This time, it’s purposeful. It’s as if you’re both trying to speak the same language, finding some sort of translation as his lips slot against yours, the two of you pushing and pulling like waves of the sea. Your tongue catches his lower lip and he parts his mouth. Your tongues brush over one another in some inexplicable dance as JJ tastes you. Something escapes him - akin to a moan or a grunt - and you whine, fingers slipping into his blonde hair, tethering into the tendrils, and you pull him nearer. His hands become greedy. They slide down your body until they hook under your ass. You gladly let JJ pull you into his lap. Air is minor. Small moments to part, to take a breath. It’s like you’re all the oxygen JJ needs, the same he is for you. For JJ, he’s learning you. Every move of your tongue, trick of your teeth, brush of your lips is new, exhilarating, and fucking erotic. He’s mapping it to memory. Every reaction he can draw from you, as his hands knead your thighs, his tongue chases your taste, and his fingers tease your skin. But for you, it’s like coming home. You know JJ inside and out, perhaps better than he knows himself, and you fucking show it. Feather-light touch of your nails on his skin that have him almost whining. The way you pull his hair just enough to walk that beautiful thin line of pain and pleasure…It’s addicting. JJ wants more, more, more.

The fire eventually slows. JJ sits, burning, as you pull away. Your forehead bumps against his. His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, as does yours, and he nudges his nose against yours. You giggle underbreath. He smiles, eyes still shut, as if opening them might shatter the moment. His thumb brushes the apple of your cheek: the skin is hot to the touch under the pad of his finger. One of your hands rests on his stomach, atop of his t-shirt, and leisurely scratches patterns lightly onto the skin.

“I miss you so much,” you whisper. JJ hates the heaviness in your voice. He squeezes your hip reassuringly but he isn’t sure what to say. Not yet, anyway. And so, JJ kisses you again. Shorter but no less sweeter. You know tonight isn’t the night, the same way JJ does. It feels wrong for him to kiss you, let alone touch you. You’re not his - not in the way you think. JJ doesn’t think other JJ is here, in this reality, but on the off chance that he might come back, JJ doesn’t love the idea of being found in bed with his girl.

But it isn’t just that. As you slip back onto the sofa, now cuddled up safely into JJ’s side - his arm hooked around you, holding you close - JJ knows it’s something deeper. He doesn’t want to rush this. The way he feels about you is nothing like the girls back home. He doesn’t just want to fuck you and search for some self-worth in the sheets. He doesn’t just want to chase that temporary high that helps him numb the pain of living for a few short minutes. He doesn’t want to use you like that. He wants to know you. He wants to hold you close, and spend time with you, and understand you. And most of all, he wants to understand whatever the fuck is going on with his heart, because no matter howhard he tries, it won’t seem to calm the fuck down.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was as if JJ had let go of a boulder he’d been dragging around for weeks. As it tumbled away, everything became lighter, and JJ found it easier to sink into his role of - well - JJ. Work only became easier. Well, except for the fact that every hour spent at the store was an hour away from you. He’d grown more attached than vines on a house. He was growing obsessed with you. JJ told himself it was like a research project. He was in too deep, wanting to know you inside and out, that was all. But even his own psyche laughed at that excuse. JJ knew what it was, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He was falling for you.

“It was nice seeing everyone again,” you tell him as the two of you walk back home from John B’s house. It’s dark out - the road lit up by street lamps - and the silence of the streets make it feel as though the two of you are the only people in the world. A dog barks in the distance, cicadas and owls create a enchanting melody for the creek, and fireflies twinkle by far-off trees. JJ squeezes your hand subconsciously as if to check this was really his life right now. He couldn’t remember Kildare being so pretty. He wonders if you have something to do with it.

“Sounds like school’s kickin’ Pope’s ass, huh?” JJ replies.

“He’ll get through it,” you shrug. “Just like how he did with the SATs.”

JJ nods his head. You often do that, allude to anecdotes or memories that JJ is supposed to share with you. He’s found it best to simply play along.

“D’you ever wish you went to college?” you ask JJ. He laughs.

“Babe, I think both of us know that was never on the cards.”

“Don’t say it like that!” you chastised, untethering your hand to instead loop it around his waist. He hooks his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close by. “You could’ve gotten in on a mechanic degree.”

“You’re sweet,” he says, smiling down at you. You poke your tongue out at him and JJ kisses you, mostly because he still can’t believe he can. Since that night on the sofa, the boundaries had continued to be pushed. JJ had to be honest: his resolve to stay an honest man was slipping. You were so soft. The way you felt under his hands; the way your body moved; the fucking sounds you make. God…JJ was a full-fledged addict. He craved more.

He slept in the same bed as you, cuddled close under sheets. As the summer became more and more humid and muggy, clothes were less and less needed. You’d sleep in little more than a vest top and panties, and JJ merely in boxers. It was like a psychological test. How far can you push a man before he breaks? It might help if it wasn’t pain-stakingly obvious that you wanted to jump his bones. JJ would practically hear the battle in your mind, fighting whether to test the waters or let JJ initiate. After all, he said he needed time. But JJ was only half-ashamed to admit that if you were to test those waters, even if it were just to dip in a toe, he’d gladly get himself soaking wet. JJ wanted to know what other sounds he could pull from you. He wanted to know the way your face would contort with pleasure. Would your nose scrunch like it would when you were annoyed, or would everything just slip away, no sign of tension, only pure bliss? He wanted to know how you’d feel. Get you all worked up and toy with you over your panties before pushing them aside, slipping his fingers into your wet, desperate–

“D’you ever wish you did?” JJ blurts out, face flaming hot. Then, calmer, clarifies, “to college, I mean?”

“I mean, sometimes, yeah. Was working at a smoothie shop my lifelong dream?” you rhetorically ask. “But I don’t know. I guess life just finds it’s way, right? Isn’t that what they say in Jurassic Park?”

“Ah, yes. The most notable of scholars,” JJ deadpans. Your fingers tickle his side and he squirms. You laugh, he smiles. Everything’s good.

“I mean it though,” you continue, more serious again. “If I went to college then who knows what would’ve happened to us. We always said we’d try and make it work long distance if I did go, but it’s always easier said than done.”

JJ frowns. “I meant that when I said it though.”

You blink up at him, taken aback. “You did?”

JJ doesn’t need to be your JJ to know he would have. Hell, your JJ would have been a fucking idiot to let you slip through his fingers. “Hell yeah I did.”

You smile. It’s prettier than all the consolations twinkling above the two of you in the sky. “Thanks fishie.”

“Tell me the story of how we met,” he randomly asks.

Amused and befuddled, you ask with a laugh, “why?”

“Cause I like the way you tell it.” It isn’t a complete lie: JJ knows he’ll like the way you’ll tell it. You can read him out the shopping list and he’s enthralled. That seems reason enough to appease. You look ahead as the two of you continue to walk and deliberate where to begin the tale.

“Well, I guess it all started with that project me and Pope were doing at school. We’d started hanging out together more to finish it. Sometimes we’d do the project at John B’s house, where you and the rest of the Pogues were hanging, and I tried to find more and more excuses to see Pope so I’d have more and more excuses to see you.”

JJ tries to bite back his smile. There’s a twinge of embarrassment in your tone as if you’re cringing at your former self, but JJ thinks it’s nothing shy of endearing.

“But you were confused. See, I didn’t know Pope hadn’t told y’all that we were doing a project together. And I guess I hadn’t thought about the fact that I kept showing up at these hangs with Pope. So that one time when we were in the kitchen - y’know, when you were making a sandwich and I was getting a drink?” JJ nods, eager for you to continue. “I tried starting a conversation with you. And, man, I thought I was gonna black the fuck out I was so damn nervous.”

“I make you nervous, huh?” JJ can’t help but ask, a shit-eating grin on his smug face.

“You wanna hear this story or not, mister?”

“A’right, a’right,” he laughs, holding a hand up in mock surrender.

“Anyway,” you grit out playfully, “you asked how it was going with Pope. Well, I obviously thought you meant our school project - which was going alright - so that’s what I told you: ‘It’s going alright, I guess’. Then you asked how long it’d been and I was even more confused why you were so obsessed with this stupid project. So, again, I was like, ‘uh, a month or so.’ Then, you asked if it was serious. I was like ‘how serious can a school project be?’. So I was like, ‘uh, not really.’ And you looked so offended. But also kind’a relieved?”

JJ struggles to hold back his laughter. It’s okay though, because you’re having a tough time doing so too.

“So then,” you say, breaking into giggles, “you gave me this really long look. Like long. It was almost like a puppy dog look? Like a hurt puppy dog? And you said something really weird like, ‘well, Pope’s a great guy’. And I was like, ‘ok-ay?’. And then - finally - you said, ‘you two make a really cute couple’.”

At this point you’re nearly doubled over in hysterics. JJ’s laughing too, but he’s held captive by the story.

“And then I thought to myself: OH FUCK. He thinks I’m fucking his best friend! Now he’s never gonna fuck me!” You howl with laughter, tears weeping from your eyes, and JJ can’t look away from you, smiling like a damn fool. “And I was like, ‘Oh no no no! We’re not together like that! We’re just school partners!’ And that’s–” You gasp for air, wiping your tears. Taking a few breathes, trying and failing and trying again, you finally calm down enough to finish the story: ‘and that’s when you took the biggest breath of relief ever and said ‘thank fuck’.”

JJ holds your gaze. His smile mirrors yours. Thank fuck. He can practically hear the words rolling off his tongue and feel the relief flowing through his body that you weren’t with Pope, not even slightly.

“And the rest is history,” you shrug.

“That’s a damn good story,” JJ smiles.

You giggle up at him. “I guess I do tell it pretty well, huh?”

A thought flashes across JJ’s brain, bright as a supernova. You’re so beautiful. His heart hiccups.

“I’ll say,” JJ agrees. He catches your hand again and intertwines his fingers with yours. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Three months. Three months living his doppleganger’s life. Three months of working his dream job with his best friend. Three months of visiting his mom and dad, drinking sangria on their porch and listening to any story he can pry out his parents. Three months of spending nearly every day with you. Three months of cooking and eating dinner. Three months of morning routines and evening rituals. Three months of Horror Movie night. Three months of dates on the beach at sunsets and making out on the sofa to the radio and falling asleep tangled in your arms. Three months of a life that JJ never thought he could have, and never knew he wanted.

His dad broaches the ring again. He reminds JJ of its existence when he goes to visit. And this time, JJ isn’t full of panic. Instead, he’s full of excitement. Anticipation, even. Pictures appear in his mind of white dresses and pressed black suits and flowers and garters and a white bedspread prettied with rose petals and you, in wedding lingerie, writhing and giggling, as he crawls atop of you and–

Fuck, JJ was horny.

Yes, it had been three whole months since JJ had done anything intimate outside of kissing and dry humping. And he thinks he might be about to go feral or barking mad.

It doesn’t help that you can’t keep your hands to yourself. Your hand rests on his thigh as he drives. Fingers teasing the fabric of his jeans, seemingly absentminded in your teasing. JJ might swerve the car off the road at this rate. You’d proposed an hour that the two of you should go on a late night drive. It’s so pretty tonight, you told him as you glanced out the kitchen window, we should go on a drive and watch the stars. JJ had grabbed a bag of chips (the pig testicle chips, as you dubbed them) and a bottle of wine with two shitty plastic cups, and you had shoved two thick blankets into an oversized tote bag and snatched up a large pillow from the couch. With that, you hit the road.

JJ follows your directions to a secret viewpoint. You tell him you and Sarah found it the other week on a hike. He follows the dirt track, half aware that it feels like driving into a horror movie, before the trees show a clearing. It’s a cliff edge, plenty wide enough, with a glorious view of Kildare. Figure Eight shines like a beacon in the back, whilst The Cut shimmers like gold dust. Fireflies serve as the only company as JJ helps you out of the truck. The radio continues to play, humming quietly to itself as the two of you load up the bed of the truck with the blankets and pillow. You jump up and JJ follows, and the two of you shuffle around until you’re cosy atop of the unforgiving metal. You’re tucked into his side, cheek against his chest, and JJ’s right arm is looped around you, keeping you close as if you might float away. You tangle your legs into his, your fluffy socks snuggly against his calves. Titling your heads back, the view of the sky above is breathtaking. Stars upon stars stretching across an expanse of pure black.

“Thanks for doing this,” you quietly say into the night air. JJ squeezes you.

“Course.”

After twenty minutes of star gazing in silence, save for when a shooting stars flashes by - ‘I wish to be chosen by the cat distribution system.’ - ‘I could just adopt us a cat.’ - ‘It isn’t the same.’ - you sit up and reach for the wine. JJ takes the cup you offer to him.

“A toast,” you smile, “to many more nights spent like this one.”

“Any night spent with you is a night to remember,” JJ suavely says. You practically dissolve at his words.

“Cheers,” you conclude, holding your cup out for JJ to ‘tink’ against. The wine tastes like strawberries. It wets his throat and calms his nerves. There’s a strange aura to the night. It’s like JJ hasn’t read the full page, and doesn’t know where the chapter will lead. “That was a good toast, fishie.”

Brushing some hair off your face, JJ says, “tell me the story of the fish thing.”

Just as you had done before when he asked to hear the story of how you met, you’re confused, but not irritated. “Because you like the way I tell it?” you wonder, hazarding a guess. JJ grins.

“Course.”

You take another sip of wine and JJ does the same. Gazing off, JJ can see every star reflecting in your eyes. He could drown in them. He could drown in this moment. “I don’t really know when it started…Oh! Wait, yes, I do!”

JJ loves the way you perk up. You’re already laughing as you say, “it’s so dumb! It was when we got those super sour candies on our second date, and I made this weird face, and you said I looked like a fish! And I told you that if you tried one, you’d look like a fish too. And then we took pictures of each other to prove it.”

Laughter bubbles up JJ’s throat. He cracks up, shaking his head. All this time, these three months, JJ has tried and tried to understand where on earth his fish thing came from. He’d read every diary and journal entry, and analysed every story you’d told him. He thought it must be something significant, like the first time you said ‘I love you’. Something groundbreaking. But no, it was a silly thing, as silly as two teenagers sharing sour sweets. That one little thing had spiralled until it became the string tying everything together: nicknames left on love letters and in birthday cards; scribbled on kitchen notes and typed in texts; whispered in the dark of the bedroom or shouted across the house followed by a request. JJ had followed the clues for the answer and there it was: a quick, four-or-so sentenced anecdote.

When JJ finally catches his breath, he washes his humour down with the rest of his wine, and lays his eyes on you. Your brows are raised, waiting for an explanation, and JJ shakes his head.

“You do tell that story well,” he murmurs. You brim with pride.

“I do, huh?”

JJ can’t look away from you. You’re stunning, sitting on your knees atop of scrunched up blankets. The hoodie you’re wearing is JJ’s. It hangs slightly oversized on your frame, skimming the tops of your thighs, concealing the pyjama shorts you don. The fluffy toes of your socks poke out behind you, from where you sit atop of your legs. Hair slightly messy, falling around your face like framing a magnificent painting, and a smile unmoving from your lips.

“You’re my favourite part of all of this,” he tells you. Your brows tug together slightly.

“Of all of what?” you ask. JJ shakes his head, smiling to himself.

“This,” he simply replies. Your lips twitch up higher, happy with the answer, it seems.

“I missed you so much, JJ,” you whisper. Missed. Like it’s a thing of the past. Like there’s nothing to miss now, because he’s here, with you again like he was before.

“C’mere,” JJ murmurs. You swig the last of your wine and toss your cup into the bed of the truck. JJ drops his own cup away, hands reaching out to help guide you onto his lap. Your legs straddle him, knees planted either side of his hips, and you snake your arms over his shoulders. JJ kisses you like a man starved. You taste like strawberry wine and hours spent in the sun and the past and the future and everything. You’re everything. JJ pulls you impossibly closer. His hands desperately grab and hold you, searching your skin under your clothes. You whine against his mouth. He moans against yours. You rock against him and JJ sighs, his forehead slipping to fall pathetically on your shoulder. You waste no time exploring, kissing a trail from his jaw and cheeks to his ear. Kitten lick the lobe before taking it in your teeth, tasting and trying. JJ’s practically breathless. He holds you close as if he’s scard you might turn to dust in his hold. Nothing more than a phantom he’s made up in his lonely, cold bed.

JJ knows then what this was for. It wasn’t the job, or his parents. It wasn’t the bordering sobriety, or the money, or the house. The reason the universe had planted him here was for you. JJ wanted this. He wanted a life filled with love, not anger. He wanted intimacy, not sex. He wanted to live, not just exist.

“I love you,” he nearly gasps against you. It’s like he can’t keep the words down any longer. “I love you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper. Quick, like a reflex. Certain. Nobody’s ever been certain of JJ before. Your hands plant on his face, one on each side, and you force his face away until he opens his eyes into yours. You’re crying. Smiling through the tears, gazing at him like he’s something worth looking at. “I love you so much, JJ. I was…I was so scared,” you hiccup, sniffling your words, “I was so scared I wasn’t what you wanted anymore.”

JJ’s head shakes. You don’t let go of him, not once. “I’m always gonna want you.” Then, half-laughing, as if something absurd just occurred to him he admits, “I don’t know how I made it so long not knowing you existed.”

It’s your turn to shake your head now, giggling through your tears. “You’re everything to me, JJ Maybank. Everything.”

JJ doesn’t want to stop kissing you. Not as he lies you down on the bed of the truck. Not as his fingers slip below your hoodie, until he’s coaxing it up and over your head. But he has to. Has to let his mouth follow the invisible line, down your throat, along your sternum, until he’s taking the pebbled nub of your nipple between his lips. You gasp, fingers slipping into his hair, back arching just-so, and JJ knows you must be as touch starved as him.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you whine, head rolling back. He gives the same treatment to the other breast, his fingers teasing over the now neglected nipple. But then you’re nearly clawing at his face, dragging him up to your mouth. It’s filthy, the kiss you catch him in. Your hands desperately grab at his shirt, encouraging it up and over his head, and JJ pulls away long enough to toss it to the side. Fingers trace over the skin of his back; feel up his chest, over his muscles as they tense with every shortened breath. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” JJ promises. He’s never meant something more.

“You better.”

You’re just as soft as JJ imagined. The way you give under his fingers as they trace the silky wetness gathered between your legs. The sounds you make are better than those he conjured in the darkest parts of his mind. You grab for him, nails digging slightly into the skin of his biceps, as if it’s all a little too overwhelming. But you beg. Please, baby, I need you…Stop teasing, please. He can’t keep himself from you much longer. JJ’s finger slips inside you so easy. He shudders against your clammy skin, sighing against your collarbones as if it might be him, and you mewl as he fingers you under the starlight. Your hips rock helpless, lips damp and pretty as you let out the most hauntingly beautiful sounds. Sounds that will forever ghost JJ’s thoughts. You come with a shudder, fingernails leaving crescents in his bare shoulders, gasping out his name among cusses. JJ thinks it’s the most gorgeous prayer he’s ever heard. You taste like nectar on his tongue as he sucks his fingers clean, and he twitches in his boxers.

“So fucking pretty when you come,” he grunts, kissing your neck fervently. “Wanna fucking taste you forever.”

“Please, JJ,” you beg. Your hands push at his shorts. “Please.”

“Want me to fuck you, baby?” he whispers into the crux of your ear. He grins at the gasp you let out. He can’t help but toy with your soaking cunt as he teases. “Is that what you want? D’you need it bad, baby?”

“Fuck you, JJ,” you hiss. He can’t help but chuckle at the moan which shatters your words. “God, please. Yes. Please, just…fuckin’...”

“I’ve got you, baby,” JJ croons. He shrugs off his shorts, soon followed by his boxers. When you take his length in your hands, his eyes squeeze shut and he grits his teeth. Fuck, he’s already so close.

“Missed you so much,” you tell him again, a knowing taunt to your words. He forgets how well versed you are in the language of him. Guiding him to your centre, he groans as he grinds experimentally, slipping easily from how wet you are.

“Don’t we need–”

“Pill, remember, babe?” you hum innocently against the apex of his throat. JJ sinks into you and he nearly blacks out. It’s intoxicating: the way you feel - gripping him, clenching around him; the sounds you make - gasping, whining, cussing, nearly screaming; the lewd sounds of sex as he fucks you until the only thing the two of you can say are the only things that matter in that moment. Please and fuck and God, yes. You cry out his name when you come, eyes screwed tight, lips curving with the shadow of a smile, and JJ shatters from the sound. He grunts and moans helpless against your skin, slick with sweat, as he fucks the two of you through your highs. Until finally he’s slipping out, heaving atop of you, searching his mind for some frame of reference because it’s never been that good before, has it?

You refuse to let him slip away from you. You hold him close, kissing any expanse of skin exposed to you. JJ smiles tired and spent against your warm skin. The two of you tug a blanket over your sedated bodies, soaked with dopamine. And you lay like that, tangled and tethered together, until you both catch your breath.

“I love you,” JJ murmurs into the dead of night. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

“I knew you’d come back to me eventually,” you tell him, voice kind like an angel. Your fingers scratch through his hair like petting a dog, easing him to sleep. But he doesn’t want to leave this moment. His eyes slip shut, nonetheless. It’s as if you can read his mind; he hears you whisper, “get some sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Before darkness pulls him under, he catches three words that JJ will never get sick of hearing leave your mouth.

“I love you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ wakes with a groan. He’s laying on his side, his face is squished into the pillow, dried drool stuck to his chin. As he comes out of a deep sleep, it almost feels like he’s waking up from death. He forces his eyes open just to close them a moment later. The room is dark, as if shadowed in grey from cloudy skies. It’s warm and sticky: bed sheets cling to the bare skin of his back, drawn to the sweat. Maybe that’s the thing that has JJ’s eyes flying open.

The last thing he could remember was falling asleep with your body flush against his. You were still trying to even out your breathes, body clammy from his touch and the pleasure the two of you had shared. Beneath the two of you had been two blankets layered atop of one another, and below that, the metal bed of a pick-up truck. But JJ frowns as he feels a bumpy mattress taking the weight of his body. He sits up, the sheets slipping down to his waist, and looks around the room, bleary eyed.

He glances to the spot in the bed beside him. It’s empty, untouched. He calls your name but there’s no reply. He takes in his surroundings. It’s his room. Not the room the two of you shared in that gorgeous little house. No, this is his room from before. Barren of warmth or personality. Soulless in the lack of you.

Panic uncurls within him. It starts in his head and ends in his toes, until his whole body is vibrating, spiralling with dread. He calls your name, louder, and hurries out of bed. Pulling on a pair of boxers, he does a lap of the crappy apartment he had once found solace in. Now, it’s a cage. A relic to his past life and bachelor days. Empty takeout boxes pile up by the overflowing bin. Beer bottles and cans litter the counter. A half-smoked joint lies limp on the dusty coffee table. A random girl’s cardigan flung carelessly over the back of his years-old couch. But there’s nothing of you here. Nothing.

JJ pushes his hands through his hair, chest heaving, teetering on the edge of a panic attack. He knows what’s happened - knows it’s useless - but he calls your name again, over and over and over. He calls it until his throat goes dry, until it doesn’t sound like a real word. Until he’s sat on the floor, knees to his chest, leaning his back against the side of the bed. He cradles his head in his hands, fingers sinking into his scalp like claws. That’s when the tears finally come.

“No,” he sobs into his palms. “No, please…Please, take me back…Let me go back…”

The universe didn’t answer his pleas.

*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ moves through his world with a broken heart. He slowly picks it back together, unmotivated as he puzzles the chunks into place. His job is monotonous and empty, just as his days are without knowing you’ll be at the end of them. His evenings are spent isolated, drinking himself to sleep, convincing himself that when he curls under the covers, your arms are there to hold him. It stays that way for a couple of weeks.

That is until JJ is walking through town. Something catches his eye. It sits like a lighthouse, and he’s drawn to it like a sailor whose been lost at sea. The bright green and orange of the sign feels like a hallucination, a memory from a dream he once had, but it’s real. The smoothie shop you used to work at.

He knows it’s a pipedream. The universe had been using JJ as its own personal entertainment for the past three months, so why now would it change its tune and show charity? But as JJ approaches, the smoothie shop remains, and he finally lets himself have hope for the first time since he woke up alone in his apartment.

It’s not very busy inside. Reggae music plays from the speaker by the door. There’s a group of teengers sat talking animatedly as they sip their smoothies; a couple with a beautiful golden retriever reside by the window, people watching. Someone’s at the counter, blocking the view of the cashier they’re speaking too, and a worker is at the blenders. JJ feels his feet pull him toward the counter. He glances around as if to check that this is real, and when he looks back ahead, the man in front of him is thanking the worker and moving to the side to collect his order and:

“Hi!”

JJ’s world stops. And then, he breathes for the first time in two weeks.

It’s you. It’s really, truly you. You’re standing in your little uniform, hair pulled back, eyes shimmering in the sunlight that glows through the large windows at the front of the shop. It’s like a drop of sunlight: ethereal and impossible and pure and perfect and somehow here, stood before JJ.

“Hi,” JJ manages to reply.

You tap something on the cash register, oblivious to JJ’s shock, before glancing back up at him. “Are you ready to order?”

JJ nods, dumbfounded. Then you smile, and his heart sings, and he knows that this is what he was meant to do. He was meant to come find you.

“Alrighty,” you sing-song, picking up a takeout cup, marker pen at the ready to write on the plastic. “What can I do for you?”

Everything, JJ thinks as he stares at his future. Everything.

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corrcdedcoffin · 1 month ago

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「 ✦ jj maybank masterlist ✦ 」

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

• little secret

: ̗̀➛ bsf!jj and reader get frisky at the chateau after smoking

• kook!reader

: ̗̀➛ you and jj are secretly dating. he has you over one day and you get caught fucking

• teenage dirtbag, baby

: ̗̀➛ jj has a massive crush on you and can’t do anything about it. based on the song teenage dirtbag.

• dealers choice

: ̗̀➛ jj is your local dealer, secretly harboring a massive crush on you. one day, he decides to make a move.

• soulmate

: ̗̀➛you were having an awful day, and jj was the only one who noticed. he does everything he can to make you forget.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

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corrcdedcoffin · 1 month ago

Text

soulmate | jj maybank

bsf!jj x reader

request: JJ seems like he’s into people for their souls, not their outward appearances. I don’t have anything specific but maybe some fluffy fluff (slight smut?) of bff JJ (who seriously wants) reader, and readers having a shit day. Maybe feeling down on herself and her looks? He makes her feel better. And beautiful. 😍

summary: you're having a bad day, and jj is there to fix it.

warnings: 18+, smut (unprotected sex, oral m+f, p+v), kissing, alcohol consumption, jj is down bad

note: i know the request said slight smut but i got carried away.. oopsies! enjoy

It was just one of those days. The kind where nothing is going your way - all the clothes you feel good in are dirty, your hair won't cooperate, nor will your makeup. Your sweater pocket keeps getting stuck on door handles, and to top it all off, you look like you just crawled out from a grave.

And with just your luck, your friends were waiting for you outside, early, for the first time ever.

You let out a frustrated huff, looking in the mirror and trying to put on a convincing enough face that you were fine, maybe convincing enough that 'just tired' is a good enough excuse, should anyone say anything.

Of course, no one did say anything. At least not at first. It wasn't until later in the night when JJ had come to sit with you, asking if you were doing okay. He was always the first one to notice when you were feeling off. Or maybe he was the only one who really gave a shit. You couldn't tell.

"I'm fine, I swear. Just tired s'all" you lied through your teeth. Normally it would've worked, but JJ knew you better than that.

"Come on, you should know better than that, lyin's a sin" he jeered playfully, earning a half assed smile from you.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" you rolled your eyes, avoiding giving an actual answer to him.

He watched you closely, eyes slightly squinted and his head tilted to the side. He reminded you of a cat, watching with evident wisdom beyond his years. He hated seeing you so down, and he'd be damned if he didn't try to ease your woes.

"Seriously, you can talk to me. Full animosity: I'm the priest in the confession stand" he teased, earning a more genuine smile out of you. It was hard not to smile when picturing him dressed as a priest.

You sighed, staring at the fire in front of you and speaking lowly so the others wouldn't hear you from the porch. "S'just one of those days" you shrugged. "It started miserable and hasn't gotten any better."

"What happened?"

You shrugged again. "Nothing went right from the start. Woke up late for work, no time to get ready. Boss was on my ass all day. Didn't have enough food at home for a proper dinner, no hot water when I showered. My hair wouldn't cooperate and my makeup looks like ass. All my clothes fit me weird and I look and feel like the undead."

"No you don't, you look great" he said, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better, J. Friendship is about honesty" you scowled at him.

"M'not lyin'. You're beautiful, always. Even if you don't feel like it" he stated, looking at you in a way that made you slightly nervous. "Scouts honour" he added, holding up his fingers.

You scoffed, "Yeah, that's why every date I go on ghosts me after."

JJ's eyes widened at that, and it didn't go unnoticed by you. "Exactly" you said, as if it proved your point.

"Then they're idiots, all of them. I guarantee it has nothing to do with how you look and is just because you scare them with your wit and brains. Boys don't like when women are smarter and funnier than them because it hurts their ego, and you're smart as hell."

You couldn't help the smile forming, even if it was miniscule. "Thanks, J."

He hated seeing you so down on yourself. To him, you were it. You were his dream girl. Smart, funny, a little bit reckless but you always kept him in check. You were passionate about the things you loved, and you were never afraid to speak your mind. You were one hell of a woman.

It wasn't until after he thought it that he realized he said it out loud. Your jaw was agape, shock written all over your face. His palms began to sweat, afraid you'd yell at him or slap him for his confession, but you didn't seem mad. Not even disgusted. You looked.. awestruck.

"Walk me home?" you asked.

He was surprised, but he nodded silently. He shifted restlessly in his seat as you walked into the porch to say bye to everyone, letting them know he was walking with you.

It was silent for the first little while, both your minds running a mile a minute. JJ was worried he'd ruined your friendship, and he couldn't stop fidgeting with his hands. It was starting to drive you nuts.

"Stop worrying" you spoke softly, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together.

"M'tryin'" he replied. "Jus' don't wanna lose you."

You turned to him, giving his hand a light squeeze. "You won't."

When you'd arrived at your apartment, he was ready to say goodnight and leave, and fight with himself the whole way back to the Chateau. He wasn't expecting you to invite him in to hangout a while longer.

You'd brought a cheap bottle of wine from the kitchen, offering him a cup. It was old, plastic molding to the shape of Tweety Bird's head, and he couldn't help but chuckle. You put on some background music in hopes to ease the tension that built up between you, debating on bringing it up.

"I'm not sorry" JJ broke the silence. "I meant everything I said. I think you're beautiful inside and out, and I think I'm in love with you, but I know you don't feel the same and that's fine. I just don't want it to ruin our friendship, because not having you in my life would be really shitty and--"

He stopped when you climbed onto his lap, eyes going wide. His hands instinctively went to your hips, giving a light squeeze. You were nervous, but knowing how nervous JJ was, it was easier to take control.

"Kiss me" you said, and he didn't waste a single second before pressing his lips to yours.

It was better than he ever imagined. Your lips were buttery soft, and tasted like cocoa lip balm. You cupped his face with one hand, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you slid your tongue into his mouth - he couldn't help the small moan that escaped him. Or the tent forming in his pants.

What started as an innocent kiss turned heavy. The sound of your lips smacking was louder than the music, and you couldn't help but grind on him, moans escaping the both of you.

"Wait--" he broke the kiss, grip tightening on your hips to stop your movements. He didn't want it to end, he'd waited forever for this moment, but he had to make sure it was what you wanted. "I am loving every second of this, trust me, but I jus'-- Is it what you want?"

His eyes were full of lust, but he also looked full of doubt.

"I want this. I want you, J. I have for a while, I just never knew you felt the same so I didn't act on it" you admitted.

"You sure?" he breathed out.

"Positive" you confirmed, slightly rolling your hips against him before leaning in to kiss him once more.

Your breathing picked up with the pace of your hips, and he couldn't take it anymore. He held onto you tightly and stood up, carrying you to your room and placing you gently on the bed, not breaking the kiss once.

He ground into you, trailing kisses down your neck as he slowly lifted your shirt, lightly scratching at your sides. You took it off before sitting up slightly to remove his. He cupped your face with one hand while unclasping your bra with the other, trailing his fingers up your arm and across your collarbone before gently squeezing your breast.

You worked on his belt and unbuttoning his pants as he kissed you all over.

His kisses trailed down, down, down, stopping below your navel as he pulled your shorts down, letting them fall on the floor. He sat up and removed his pants, both of you staring at each other in your underwear.

JJ moved down, grabbing your foot and placing a soft kiss just above your ankle, working his way up, holding eye contact the whole time. He massaged your thighs, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he placed a kiss to your clothed clit. He rubbed slow circles over it as he sucked on the inside of your thigh, enjoying the way you squirmed at his touch.

Slowly, he slid a finger beneath your panties, gliding it up and down your slit before circling your sensitive nub once more. He watched as your breathing picked up with his touch, relishing in the way your jaw dropped when he slid a finger inside. It was slow, teasing and torturous and so, so good all at the same time.

He could tell you were getting riled up. He hooked his hands in your underwear and pulled them down, making sure to leave them near his shorts so he could save them for another time. He dove back in, tongue wide and flat as he licked up your slit, circling your clit before sucking lightly. The moan that you let out made his dick twitch, and he couldn't help but work relentlessly to hear you make that sound again.

You gripped the blanket beneath you, looking down to watch him devour you only to see him already staring.

"Oh my god," you muttered, "You're really good at this."

JJ took that as his opportunity to insert his finger again, pumping slowly a few times before adding another. He curled them upwards, reaching a spot you could never get on your own, making you shudder.

You'd never finished so fast before.

It surprised you how quickly it happened, and you felt embarrassed for a moment, but JJ didn't let it stop him. He kept going. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You gripped his hair and pulled him up, kissing him as you pushed him over so you were on top. Palming at him, you followed his actions and kissed down his neck and torso before pulling his boxers down. Inching down, you came face to face with his cock.

He was big. Bigger and girthier than you'd expect, and you couldn't wait to feel him inside you.

You licked him from base to tip, swirling your tongue around before taking him in your mouth. His moan was like music to your ears. You bobbed your head up and down slowly a few times, pushing your hair out of your face.

He pulled it all back for you, keeping a tight grip but not forcing your head down.

You added a hand to the mix, twisting up and down as you bobbed your head, swirling your tongue at the tip every so often.

"Fuck," he breathed out, gripping your hair a little harder. "Stop, I don't wanna cum yet" he begged, twitching beneath you. You slowed your pace, keeping his tip in your mouth as you lightly worked him with your hand.

"Baby, please" he begged, eyes squeezed shut.

You moaned at the pet name, then took his whole length in your mouth one more time before letting it out with a soft pop, climbing up his body and watching him with awe. He already looked so fucked out, and you never wanted to forget it.

"C'mere" he whispered, pulling you close and attaching his lips to yours.

He could feel your heat just above his dick, absentmindly bucking his hips towards it, nudging your clit and making you gasp. You lowered yourself down, allowing him to grind against your slit as he palmed at your ass.

His tip prodded at your entrance, and you couldn't help but start to slide down.

"Shit," he breathed out, "I don't have a condom."

"It's fine, I have an IUD."

"You sure it's okay?" he asked. In response, you slid all the way down to the base.

"Mhmm, it's very okay" you nodded.

You stayed still for a few moments, letting yourself adjust to his size. You'd never felt so full before. Your hands were spread on his chest as you slowly started to ride him, holding eye contact as best as you could.

You were driving him insane. The pace was slow, he could feel every part of your walls wrapped around him like a warm hug.

He sat up to kiss you, wrapping an arm around your waist and thrusting into you from below. There was a constant string of moans between kisses from the both of you, and when he unhooked his arm from your waist to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb, the moan you let out was pornographic.

"Holy fuck" he groaned, admiring the way your skin glowed with the light layer of sweat, highlighting the curves of your tits and down your stomach.

Sex with JJ was different than you'd thought it would be. Of course, you knew of his reputation in high school, but that was high school. You were in your twenties now. You weren't really sure what you expected -- maybe that he'd be like other guys and barely pay attention to your needs. That he'd cum quick and be done.

You were sorely mistaken.

He liked taking his time. Learning what made you squirm, what areas got him more of a reaction than others. He was attentive, patient, and definitely the best fuck you've ever had. Your body felt like it was on fire in the best way possible.

This wasn't just sex. It was more than two people just trying to get off - it was full of unspoken emotion and years of longing.

"You feel so good" you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair and scratching at his scalp.

"Fuck," he grunted, "So do you. You're so tight."

"You're so big" you replied.

He moaned at that, definitely letting your words go to both his heads.

Your walls began to pulse around him, signaling you were getting close again. JJ laid back and picked up the pace on your clit, thrusting into you harder and deeper. You rest your hands on his thighs, squeezing as your orgasm shook your whole body.

JJ was in heaven, watching you cum all over his cock, head hung back and jaw dropped low. Your tits bouncing with his rhythm. The moan you let out was pornographic, he couldn't help but cum right after you, and you didn't stop until he was jerking with overstimulation.

Climbing off of him, you laid on your back to catch your breath. JJ turned to you with a smile, tucking your hair behind you ear and tracing his thumb along your jaw, then your lips.

He came close and kissed you long and slow, then went to get a rag to clean you up.

Putting his boxers back on, he searched your drawers for fresh underwear for you, and grabbed you an oversized shirt to sleep in - smiling when he realized it was one of his. He remembers when he gave it to you after a day at the beach. You'd been walking back to the Twinkie and had your shirt in your hand, he remembers you saying you hated when your swim suit got your shirt wet. Then Pope and John B started roughhousing, John B bumped into you and you dropped your top in a dirty puddle. He gave you his to wear home.

Climbing back into your bed, he pulled you into his side, running his fingers along your arm until you fell asleep. God, you were so beautiful. He couldn't believe he was here, in bed with the girl who owned his heart. He was the happiest man alive.

When he woke up in the morning, you weren't in bed. His heart dropped momentarily, until he heard you in the kitchen, music playing softly, something sizzling in a pan.

He didn't bother to get dressed, walking out in his boxers and leaning in the doorway, watching you. Your hair was disheveled, you still weren't wearing pants, and he could just barely see the mark he left on your inner thigh. "Mornin'" he greeted, a sly smirk on his face.

You turned to him with a smile, "Good morning star-shine."

"What's cookin' good lookin'?"

You rolled your eyes with a smile, showing him the pan of French toast. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You turned, giving him a proper kiss.

It felt so normal. As if this was a daily ritual between the two of you.

He toyed with the ends of your hair, giving a little tug before looking you in the eye. "I love you."

He was so sure of it. In fact, he'd never been so sure of anything in his life. And when you said those words back to him, he wasn't so worried anymore. You were everything he'd ever wanted, and he knew right then and there that one day, he was going to make you his wife.

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corrcdedcoffin · 1 month ago

Note

jj x reader but he’s her dealer and they’re always flirting but this time it turns into something more ;)

posted here!

sorry it took so long!! i hope you like it :)

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corrcdedcoffin · 1 month ago

Text

dealers choice | jj maybank

request: jj x reader but he’s her dealer and they’re always flirting but this time it turns into something more ;)

summary: jj is a self proclaimed entrepreneur, and has a small circle of clientele; you amongst them. you, who he's been trying to make a move on for, well.. forever.

warnings: 18+, drugs (weed), alcohol, partying, illusions of smut (nothing happens), friends to lovers? sort of, jj swoons hard, kissing

note: this took its own route, i tried to stick to the request as much as possible but once i started i couldn't stop and this is the outcome.. sorry if it's not up to expectations i did my best :/ i also left it a bit open ended in case anyone wants a part 2!!

word count: 2.9k

JJ Maybank was very passionate about his 'small business'. After the gang opened up the surf shop, and Kie and Cleo really focused on the garden, JJ learned a thing or two himself, developing quite the green thumb.

When he wasn't at the shop, he was caring for and creating hybrids of his oh so precious devils lettuce. Customers of his would often come to the shop to purchase the extra goods, you included.

It wasn't like you were really friends with JJ and his friends, but you'd known them most of your life. You'd see them at the skate park, sometimes you'd surf with them, but mostly you'd hangout at parties. It was a weird spot between friends and acquaintances. And now, JJ was your regular dealer.

You and your friend had stopped at their shop for some board wax, where she was complaining it would have been a perfect day had she hadn't accidentally dropped her pre-rolls in the toilet that morning.

JJ overheard the conversation and couldn't help but chuckle, admitting it's happened to him before and offering for you to try one of his freshly rolled joints. Sure, it was out of his own stash, but he thought you were so pretty he just couldn't help himself. From then on, you were a loyal customer.

Mostly, you'd come into the shop like everyone else to make your purchase. After a while he'd given you his number, offering to deliver wherever you needed, free of charge.

Then you'd gone to his house a few times to pick up. It was usually pretty civil, a typical business interaction with some side conversation here and there about a party you'd seen each other at, or about how you got a modelling gig for a new surf wear brand.

He'd stalked the brands instagram page after that.

Eventually, the dynamic between you had started to shift. Conversations started lasting longer, he found himself cracking jokes left and right just to hear you laugh, his hands lingered against yours for longer than they probably should have, finding it more and more impossible to keep a distance between you. His late night thoughts were all about you, unable to stop himself from wrapping a hand around himself and fantasizing about you there with him, imagining you were the one touching him.

He felt disappointed when he didn't hear from you for a while. So much so, that John B noticed. He was like a puppy that had been kicked to the curb, sulking around making everyone else feel it's sorrow.

"She's probably just busy with work" he suggested, making JJ sigh.

John B had been discreetly watching the two of you at the shop and the house for a while. He noticed how JJ had more pep in his step when he knew you were coming by, and more so after seeing you. The constant flush in his cheeks was impossible to miss, even the others started to tease him relentlessly, calling him a pussy for not making a move.

It wasn't for lack of trying, though. JJ was always a smooth talker, especially when it came to girls. He was always confident, and never took rejection personally. But with you? His nerves always got the best of him, even if you never noticed. God, he hoped you didn't notice. Sometimes he'd stutter, and he always worried that you'd feel his clammy hands when making a deal.

The gang knew about his crush on you, since John B couldn't keep his mouth shut. It became a bet on how long it'd take JJ to make a move. Sarah and Kie agreeing it wouldn't take much longer, maybe a month. John B, Pope and Cleo thinking more like 6 based on his nerves and current rate of action.

Sarah had gotten home early one evening to get ready for a party at the Boneyard. Hearing a car pull up, she checked out the bedroom window to see who it was, and she couldn't help the way her jaw hung low when she saw you in the drivers seat reapplying lip gloss and fixing your hair before getting out.

She had always admired your fashion sense.

Sneaking downstairs, she stayed hidden in the kitchen while you and JJ were in the porch, and she couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"There's my favourite girl" JJ smirked at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a side hug. You smiled wide, saying a soft "Hi, J" and silently praying your cheeks weren't so obviously as red as they felt. Were you really his favourite girl?

You took note of how good he smelled.

"I got your usual ready, and I... added a couple of things" he said as he pulled away from you, walking to the far end of the table and grabbing a bag.

There was your usual quarter in a small ziploc bag, neatly wrapped and tucked into a larger freezer bag that contained three pre-rolls (which he'd never done before, but after last time you'd admitted you were a shitty roller, he couldn't help himself), a pack of cherry flavoured papers (your favourite), a small rolling tray, a candy bar, and a charm bracelet from the shop.

Sarah's jaw was practically on the floor, she had to cover her mouth to muffle the gasp that she couldn't hold in.

"You didn't have to do this, JJ" you looked at him with adoration.

"I know, but I wanted to" he smiled, then cleared his throat. "I figured since you prefer joints but aren't confident rolling, I'd throw in a few for you. And then papers and a tray since you said you didn't have one, and I had an extra one." (That was a lie, Sarah was with him when he bought it).

"And the chocolate?" you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice.

"You said it was your favourite.. so.." JJ trailed off.

"What about this?" you held up the bracelet, inspecting it.

It was something new they added to the shop, build your own charm bracelet. Kiara had ordered a bunch of charms and some plain Italian bracelets so customers could add whichever ones they like.

The charms were cute, and all suited your personality quite well. There wasn't a single one on there that you didn't like.

"Uhm, I just saw it at the store and thought you might like it.. I can return it if--"

"No! No, it's really nice. I love it" you smiled sweetly at him, and he swore he could feel his heart turn to goo.

He stepped closer to you, taking the bracelet from your hand. "I jus' wanna make sure it fits" he spoke lowly, taking your left hand and sliding the bracelet on.

Your eyes stayed on his face as he focused on your wrist. He was moving slowly and softly, the way he turned the bracelet so it was upright gave you goosebumps. "What d'you think?"

You glanced down at your wrist, the charms seeming to sparkle in the setting sun. "S'perfect" you looked back to him, "Thank you".

The close proximity was hard to ignore. Sarah was hiding in the dark, chewing on her fingers and silently urging for him to kiss you.

You placed a soft kiss to his cheek, and he could feel his brain short circuit. "Gotta keep my favourite customer happy" he smiled lightly.

The two of you held eye contact for a moment longer before your phone ringing in your pocket scared you. It was your friend, and you smiled in apology to JJ before answering. He moved away and sat in a chair, facing you and the door, fidgeting with a lighter.

You told your friend you were just picking up and you'd be at their house soon, JJ pursed his lips. After hanging up you resealed your goody bag, then looked over to him.

"Are you going to the Boneyard tonight?" you asked.

He looked up at you, "Are you?" he countered.

You nodded, "My friend's making me."

"Then I'll be there" he nodded, and you couldn't help the flush that took over your cheeks once more.

"Okay, see you later then?"

"See you later" he smiled. You gave a small wave before leaving, hurrying to your car and heading to go pick up your friend. She'd have your head if you were any later than you already were.

JJ rubbed his hands across his face and groaned, cursing himself for being an idiot.

"You're not an idiot" Sarah pushed the porch door open. "A fool, maybe. But not an idiot."

JJ quickly pulled his hands away from his face. "How long have you been there?"

"Since she pulled up" Sarah shrugged.

"Oh my god!" he groaned again, leaning his head back on the chair. Embarrassed was an understatement.

Sarah took a deep breath, "You don't have to be embarrassed. What you did was really sweet!"

"It wasn't too much?"

She shook her head. "No, I think it was the perfect amount of romance. Boys don't really do stuff like that anymore. Besides, she likes you, so you don't have anything to worry about."

"How would you know?"

"Because, it's obvious. And I'm a girl, so I just do."

JJ scoffed at that. "Girls are very subtle with their flirting. It's all in the eyes, and the body language, not so much the words" she added.

JJ motioned for her to go on. He felt like an idiot having her explain this to him, but he'd never been so unsure of himself with a girl before. He was absolutely smitten over you, that he was sure of. But do you really like him?

It was easy to tell with other girls he didn't have actual feelings for.

"Well, does she smile at you at lot, does she make lots of eye contact, especially after someone tells a joke? Does she find ways to be close to you? How does she react when you get close to her, things like that."

There was silence between them as JJ thought on all previous interactions with you. All the boxes were checked off, even as he thought about moments ago when he put the bracelet on you. You got goosebumps, he heard a small hitch in your breath, but still he doubted himself.

"Look, she asked if you were going to the party tonight, obviously she wants to see you. So get off your ass and get ready!" Sarah started clapping in his ear.

The party was in full swing by the time JJ and his friends arrived. Immediately, he was searching for you. As if sensing his nerves, Sarah nudged his arm and pointed in your direction.

You were sitting around the fire with your friends, beer in hand, laughing at something.

"Go over there, say hi" Sarah smiled.

JJ shook his head. "Nuh-uh, no way, I need a couple beers first."

"Shotgun?" John B proposed with a devilish glint in his eye.

JJ nodded, missing how Sarah told John B to take him over by where you were sitting. The gang followed along without question, and by the time JJ realized where they were going, it was too late.

He tried not to look at you right away, but he found it difficult. Shaking his arms in an attempt to loosen up, he got ready to shotgun with Pope and John B. They downed three in a row, earning a small round of applause from the crowd. JJ immediately looked at you, his heart skipping when you were already smiling at him.

You gave a small wave, the bracelet he made you reflecting the firelight.

He held up a fresh beer and tipped it up in a cheers motion as a greeting, unable to hold back a smile when you did the same. You turned back to your friend when she whispered something to you before getting up and leaving.

JJ watched as you dug your feet in the sand and reached into your bag, pulling out one of the joints he gave you. You turned to him again, holding it up in offering.

He smiled, patting his friends on the back, "See ya later, boys" he said, giddiness evident in his voice.

They all watched as he sauntered over to you, unable to help the smiles on their faces. Cleo let out a cheer, John B and Pope following suit. JJ flipped them off, keeping his eyes on you as you laughed.

"Hi" he smiled as he sat next to you on the log.

"Hi" you smiled back. "Care to share?"

"Huh," he inspected the joint. "This is very nicely rolled. You do this yourself?" he teased.

"No, I know this guy, he seems pretty handy" you smirked, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, maybe he'll show you sometime" JJ shrugged.

"I'd like that" you smiled at him.

Conversation flowed easily between you as you smoked. You both got a little more comfortable as the buzz began to flow through your veins, arms pressing against each other as you shared stories of idiotic things you've both done while high or drunk.

The jokes were never ending between you, and after a couple more drinks you let it slip that you thought he was handsome.

JJ couldn't help the smile that formed after that.

He stood up abruptly and held out his hand to you. "What?" you giggled.

"Come with me!"

You slipped your bag over your shoulder before taking his hand and standing up. He laced his fingers between yours and led you further down the beach. It was quieter, a small fire with a few people nearby and a different song playing. It was slower, made the moment feel more intimate than whatever shenanigans you were sure he was up to. Still, neither of you could ignore the harsh thumping in your chests.

To your surprise, there was no shenanigans. "Dance with me?" he asked, placing his free hand on your waist.

"You tryna romance me, Maybank?" you smirked, a playful glint in your eye.

"Depends. Is it working?" he asked, placing your hand on his shoulder before putting his other on your waist.

You had both hands clasped around the back of his neck now, allowing him to gently sway you as you pretended to think about your answer.

"Hmm, I think it might be" you smiled.

"Good, cause that's exactly what I'm trying to do."

You looked down as you giggled, and he took the opportunity to pull you just a little bit closer.

"Are you busy tomorrow?"

"Depends. What 'cha thinkin'?" you looked back up at him. Your faces were inches apart, you could feel his breath on your face. It was the closest you'd ever been, and yet somehow it still felt so far away.

"Well, I was hoping I could take you out. I know a nice little spot, really good for an evening picnic. What d'you think?"

You smiled, "I think.. It's a date."

JJ smiled, "Alright, cool. I'll pick you up at 7?"

"I'll be ready."

There was a moment of silence between you as you stared at each other, smiling like idiots, before he lifted you and spun you around quickly. The laugh that bubbled out of you would be on repeat in his mind forever.

JJ swallowed the lump of nerves that grew in his throat. Why was he so nervous? He asked you on a date and you agreed. The hard part was over, wasn't it? You were in his arms dancing with him, willingly. And god, you looked so beautiful, it was hard to focus.

And to make matters worse, you noticed. "You okay?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm good. Great, actually."

"Then why do you seem so nervous?"

Fuck.

"Cause I just.. I-You're really pretty, and I really want to kiss you" he huffed, cheeks going red, but he kept his eyes on yours. He needed you to know this was serious, more than just some fling to him.

"Then kiss me" you spoke quietly.

He pulled you closer, rubbing his nose on yours before closing the distance between you. You snaked a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. His left hand slid up your back, pulling you even closer as his right squeezed your hip.

You weren't sure how long you kissed for, but there were some cheers nearby, making you pull away and look. It was JJ's friends again, congratulating the two of you. JJ flipped them off once more, taking the hat from his head to shield you for some privacy as he kissed you again.

Much to his dismay, it only made them cheer harder, and neither of you could stop the laughs that escaped you.

With his hat still shielding you, he apologized for his friends, slightly raising his voice so they could hear him call them idiots, and that they ruined the moment.

You shook your head, "They didn't ruin it" you smiled, placing another kiss to his lips.

JJ couldn't stop smiling, taking a glance around the Boneyard and deciding he didn't want to be there anymore.

"Wanna get outta here?" he asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

You nodded, humming a soft mhm before he took hold of your hand once more, leading you away from the party and back towards town. The two of you walked down the streets hand in hand, twirling and dancing around, stealing kisses as much as you wanted until the sun started to come up.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank obx #obx season 4 #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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corrcdedcoffin · 4 months ago

Text

Amorem | E.M

Cw: you’re tired of being alone, so you cast a spell to find love. 7.3k words, witch!f!reader x Eddie, magic, fluff, mild angst, smut, unprotected sex, creampie.

“I just feel so lonely.” You sigh.

Robin, Nancy, Max, and Joyce, all collectively nod their heads as you’re all gathered at the Coven house. They can’t help but feel a small amount of pity, they have all found their partners. You’re the last witch standing.

“What about the amorem enchantment?” Joyce, the coven mother suggested.

She is a wise witch, the townspeople call her eccentric, however she is very knowledgeable when it comes to the craft.

“That seemed a bit desperate” you sigh.

“You’re a beautiful witch in your prime, it is time to find your match before it is too late.” Joyce points out.

It is very unfortunate when a witch loses their match due to natural selection because there is a very small window to do something about it.

The supernatural forces are lenient to keep your human longer than their body allows if you claim them in time. It only works if the match is in their mid-twenties. No one knows why, but it is when you need to act. You’re already in your twenty-fifth year, you can’t push it any longer.

With a sigh of defeat you begrudgingly agree that it was what has to be done.

“Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem” your chant starts softly. Alone at your altar, deep in the meadow with the wildflowers and dew. Your altar is set up against a weeping willow with all you have gathered for your enchantment.

Amorem enchantments, or love enchantments, are a powerful thing. The magic cannot make someone fall in love with you; that’s not how it works. The magic is to draw the source of love towards you, to help guide the individuals together.

You think of your ideal partner- charismatic, funny, loyal, trustworthy, doting, physical, handsome, artistically inclined, and imaginative. All of those things race on your mind as you chant.

You can feel your magic building. The warmth builds in the depth of your chest and spreads through your arms to your fingertips as you continue the chant.

“Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum, dea amoris, invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem”

The moon is at its highest, the wind is whistling. “Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Adiuva me invenire unum, dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum ego. One last final chant and it was complete.

You feel a soft brush against your hand. Looking down, you smile at the little ball of fluff—Clover, your familiar. She is a calico rabbit you’ve had since your magic presented itself at eight years of age.

You glamour your altar so no one would disrupt it- not that anyone comes out here, but you can never be too careful keeping the witches' secret….

A few miles away, tucked up in bed was a man, unbeknownst to him, whose life was about to change.

Eddie isn’t too sure why he is here. He was in his apartment strumming, trying to find the right chords, when he had a sudden urge to go out. Where? He didn’t know, but if he didn’t, his gut told him he would miss out on something… something big.

Now he’s found himself in this kitschy store next to Melvald’s. He’s never noticed or paid much attention to it, but he found himself pulled up in front of it and being drawn in.

The wind chimes let you know that a potential customer has entered your little shop whilst you are in the back sorting stock, so you poke your head out to see who’s arrived

“Let me know if you need anything” you politely say before seeing who was there.

“Uh… thanks” You see the man scratch his head looking clueless until his eyes meet yours.

“Oh. Hi,” you step out when you realize who is in your presence.

Eddie Munson, of all people.

“Hey,” he awkwardly waves.

You haven’t seen him since you graduated high school, nearly seven years ago. You had heard he was held back a few times, but you hadn’t given him a second thought.

“Let me know if you’re looking for something specific, I can help you out,” you smile and try and act busy.

When he turns his back you can’t help but observe him as he searches the shelves.

“What kind of place is this?” He looks over his shoulder.

“Well we are called Mystic Apothecary, what do you think?” You raise a brow biting back a snarky giggle, the touches of sarcasm rolling off your tongue.

“Ah,” he nods and continues browsing.

You curse yourself for being snarky. This is a potential customer, you need to be more approachable.

“So that makes you? What? A Sorceress?” He smirks and you can’t help but blush.

“You could say that.”

Eddie spends about ten minutes browsing and picking up little trinkets and other items before bringing them to your counter.

“Looks like someone wants to get into spell work,” you smile. He has a pentagram pendant, a tapestry, some empty spell jars, so pre filled spell jars, a black obsidian tower, and a cauldron.

“Uh-I needed some props”

“Props, huh?” Your pointed aubergine nails clack on the register keys to input the prices.

“I play this game, it’s silly.” He shrugs.

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was being so bashful. He’s always been so proud to be himself, so why is he nervous in front of you?

He semi-remembers you from school. You were more subdued and kept to yourself or your girl group. Everyone called you guys the Hawkins Coven, not that you were actually witches, but now he is rethinking that…

It also doesn’t escape him that you’re really pretty—like otherworldly pretty. He was really digging your style. Your peasant skirt and half corset are really doing it for him; very ren fair of you.

“So, is this like your uniform, or do you always dress like this?” Where did that come from? Eddie curses himself, but you just giggle.

“Why? You want one for yourself?” You smirk.

“What? You don’t think I could pull it off?”

“You would look lovely”

“Thank you, my lady” he curtseyed.

This made you giggle some more. This interaction was cute flirty and fun. You have never spoken to him this much, who knew he was so charming?

“Thanks for shopping.” You pass him his goodies in a paper bag.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the chimes for the door let you know Eddie was out of the store.

What the Hecate was that?

Clover hops over onto the counter giving you a knowing look.

“No… you don’t think?”

She twitches her nose.

“You’re crazy”

She stomps her little back foot and you roll your eyes.

“Let’s see.”

Days passed without any interaction with Eddie, until today. While at the food court with the coven, Max caught sight of Lucas, her boyfriend, sitting with his friends. As you approached their table, you unfortunately stumbled after stepping on your bootlace. With a small squeal, you found yourself tripping and falling onto someone's lap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed.

Looking up, you noticed a smirk on his face as he replied,

"Not every day I have a pretty girl falling into my lap." Your cheeks flushed with heat as you realized it was Eddie Munson.

Quickly regaining your composure, you got up, apologized once more, and walked away.

“Pretty, huh? Anything come of the Amorem Enchantment?” Max asks as the group of you walk away.

“I’m, not sure. Clover thinks she has it all figured out on who it is but I’m skeptical”

“Okay” you see Max give the others a knowing look but you bite your tongue. You don’t want to jump to conclusions.

The next day, you and Robin are out running errands, preparing for the upcoming full moon in a few days. Your coven always gathers during the highest point of the moon to draw magic from the earth, strengthening your bond and powers. It's like recharging a battery; it's not necessary, as magic never fades, but it can lie dormant if not utilized correctly.

"Hey, isn't that Munson?" Robin acknowledges, catching your attention. Surprised to see him again so soon, after seven years of not crossing paths, now encountering him for the third time in 2 weeks. "I suppose it is," you respond.

"I hardly see him," Robin remarks, her tone implying something you don't appreciate.

"And?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"And nothing," she replies in a defensive tone.

"Has Brutus been talking to Clover?" you ask, disliking the familiars' gossiping habits.

"I'm not a snitch," Robin retorts, prompting you to roll your eyes.

Her owl never seems to know when to stay quiet.

"Are you stalking me, Sorceress?" Eddie startles you as he approaches from behind. "Going to fall for me again?" he teases, making you clear your throat.

Eddie seems unsure why he left the shop. That feeling of being drawn to a particular place during his lunch break, was gnawing that the back of his head, which led him straight to you.

"Damn, Munson, creeping up on all the ladies?" Robin scolds, to which Eddie replies,

"Nah, just Sorceress here," tilting his head as you feel a blush rising on your cheeks.

“Sorceress, huh?” Robin raises her brows at you.

“He came to the Apothecary.” You defend.

“Uh-huh,” she nods and smiles. Only confirming Clover and Brutus’ accusations.

“Yep, well we better get going. Joyce is waiting. Good to see you.” You grab Robin and take off before Eddie can ask you what he’s been wanting to do since yesterday.

The Halloween Fall festival is usually your favourite event of the year. However this year you’ve been working more than enjoying the festivities. You’ve been in the tent most of the day, doing tarot readings and “fortune telling.” You’re exhausted and about to close up when a deep voice catches your attention.

“Guys I’m not doing it, it’s dumb.”

“Too bad you lost the bet now go in there!” A younger-sounding guy demands.

“It’s all hocus poc- woah” The man is pushed into view and you can’t believe your luck when it’s Eddie.

“All a bunch of Hocus Pocus, huh?”

Of course, he would be a non-believer.

“Flip that sign to say Closed for me would ya?” You ask whilst shuffling the deck for hopefully the last time today.

“You trying to get me alone or something,” Eddie suggests but you ignore it.

“Sit.”

“Yes ma’am” Eddie smirks, pulling out the chair.

With a big sigh, you shuffle the deck with your eyes closed.

“What is it you want to know?”

“Uh…”

“A general reading it is. Fifteen dollars.” You motion to the glass jar and he scrambles to put the cash in.

You feel that the cards are aligned so you go ahead a pull. The six cards are placed face down between you and Eddie.

“Ready?” You smirk.

“I guess.” He shrugs.

You flip the first card.

“Chariot in Reverse. You feel like there is a lack of direction in your life. Like you’re on the right path but maybe a little lost. Like you took the wrong turn down the road.”

You flip the second card.

“Death.”

Eddie looks up at you. He looks scared, but you giggle.

“It’s not literal, it means new beginnings, change, metamorphosis. Like you’re finally finding your path.” You look up at him through your lashes and he lets out the breath he was holding in.

“The lovers” you continue with a gulp and flip the next card, The Eight of Stars.

“There is hope for a new relationship forming.” You continue to flip the fifth card and of course, it’s The Empress.

“More growth and beauty to enter into this new relationship. “

“How do you know it’s new?” Eddie interrupts.

This catches you off guard. It’s not like you can come out a say ‘I cast a love enchantment and you’re the only one who is consistently popping up in my life.’

“I’m a fortune teller. Duh”

This makes Eddie giggle and relax a bit more, so you continue to the final card.

“The Devil.” You sigh, and Eddie’s eyes blow wide again with wonder.

“It’s because I’m the town Satanist, isn’t it?” He accuses.

Once again you ignore him and continue.

“This relationship will be addictive, lustrous, seductive. You won’t be able to keep your hands off one another. You’re both going to fall and fall hard” Your eyes are locked in on one another. You want to look away but you can’t, you think he feels it too, the pull…

When did you start leaning into one another? Your faces are so close, just a centimetre more and- you pull back immediately as the sound of the timer makes you both jump.

“Well, times up thanks for coming” You stand and rush him out.

“What? That’s it?”

“Yep. Have fun at the festival!” You close the curtain in front of him before he can say another word.

Eddie can’t believe what has just happened. He stood there awestruck but also very confused.

“Dude, what happened?” Eddie’s friend Jeff shakes him.

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his head “I have no fucking idea.” Eddie looked back over his shoulder at the tent but there was no movement at all.

The situation with Eddie was consuming your day-to-day. Weeks have passed since the festival, and all you thought about was him. You finally are coming to terms that the enchantment is what is leading the two of you together, why deny it?

Eddie and you haven’t bumped into one another since the Halloween Festival and it’s been eating at you. After the tarot reading you realized you shouldn’t have pushed him away like that. What if you had scared him off? The magic can only do so much.

Instead of moping around your house after work, hoping you bump into him. You decided to go to the grocery store strolling for some spices, your arsenal had been dwindling.

Drifting off in your own little world, you hum with your headphones on as you try and reach for the cinnamon, of course, at the very back on the top shelf, you try and get it. You reach and reach on your highest tip toes looking like a fool, unable to use a summoning spell in public you curse whoever built these deep shelves. Just as you were about to look around to see if the coast was clear enough to use a little unharmful magic, you see a bare arm decorated with bats come from behind you grabbing the cinnamon sticks.

“Hey do you mind-“ but you stop mid-sentence when they drop their hand down signalling for you to take it.

“Thanks” You turn to see your knight in shining armour. Eddie.

“No big deal” he smiles. It’s a good smile. You observe him, losing focus you let down your guard.

Eddie’s eyes widen with shock and you instantly put your guard back up. Your eyes must have given it away…

“You okay?” He asks placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you laugh it off, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your eyes… they uh… they looked pink”

Pink?! Pink of all things! You mentally scold yourself.

“Oh uh. My contacts make your eyes irritated sometimes.” You play it cool… but Eddie and you both knew your irises were what changed colour, not the whites.

“Uh-Hu” he nods, totally trying to not be freaked out, but also a little turned on?

“Um,” you stand in awkward silence for half a minute. “Thank you for the help” You motion to the cinnamon and turn on your heel.

“Wait!” He grazes your elbow now holding on too tight.

“Can we, uh- I um.” He curses under his breath, “Would you like to go out with me?” He almost shouts and you. “Sorry. That was. You don’t have to…I just thought-“

“Eddie!” you cut him off.

He pauses realizing he never gave you a second to answer.

“I would love to.” You smile. Trying extra hard to stay focused because you know your eyes are a deep magenta under the glamour you hold.

“Great! Okay,” he claps his hands together. “I‘ll call you!” He gestures his hand to make a phone by his ear and starts to walk away.

“Wait! You don’t have my number!” You giggle.

“Oh right,” he mentally scolds himself shaking his head shyly.

After you gave Eddie your number, you cast a little memory spell just in case he misplaces the paper, (only for insurance purposes) did you make your way to Robin’s place.

“Pink!” Robin screams.

“Keep your voice down!”

Robin totally knew from the beginning that Eddie was the one you summoned. She was excited for you! She knows what love can bring to a person’s life. She and Nancy are lucky to experience it together, and she just wants you to be as happy as they are.

“You got it B-A-D” she spells out.

“I do not! I don’t even know him!”

“Pinnnnnnk” she leans in.

“Ugh.” You throw your hands up in defeat and you feel Clover snuggle herself into your lap.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right.” You pet Clover's back.

“So now what?”

“He asked me out” You can’t help but smile,

“Oh!” Robin points at you again. “Pink!” She points at you. “I’m talking P-I-N-K!”

You never use your glamour around the coven because why would you? Your emotions could be read from a mile away.

“What are you guys going to do?”

“I’m not sure, guess we wait to see where the magic takes us”

Nervously, you mix a soothing tonic to ease your racing heart. Deep down, you know that the fates have intertwined your paths for a reason... He feels like the one, yet the mystery surrounding him is overwhelming. This uncertainty fuels your anxiety.

This is the final first date you’ll ever experience, the last time you’ll open your heart to someone new. And for the first time, it feels as if everything is aligning perfectly. But lurking in the back of your mind is the daunting truth that you’ll eventually need to reveal your not-so-little secret.

What if he’s frightened by who you really are? What if he can’t accept it?

The thought of erasing his memories and losing the love of your life is almost too much to bear.

Getting ahead of yourself, lost in thought your attention is checked back into reality when your doorbell rings. With a beep breath, you answer the door. Stood there on your wooden porch was Eddie, looking so handsome. His hair was freshly washed, his shirt freshly ironed and tucked into his pants. He held a bouquet of small purple daisies and a nervous smile.

“Woah,” he spoke as you opened the door. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you, and so do you” You feel your cheeks fill with heat, and you pay extra attention to the glamour for your eyes.

“Shall we?”

“Let’s” You hook your arm in his and he leads the way.

“So where are you taking me?” You ask as you strap yourself in.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, other than witchy stuff” he blushed, “so I thought it was safe to go to the Christmas market.”

That you were not expecting, and unfortunately for Eddie, he could read it in your face

“Oh, god, you hate it. I swore all girls love Christmas-“

“No Eddie it’s sweet, it’s just I don’t celebrate Christmas. Well I do, but it’s not what you would think. We, my friends and I, celebrate Yule. It’s Pagan.”

“Pagan,” He hums to himself, “that’s badass.”

This makes you giggle, and Eddie sighs with relief that you’re not annoyed at him.

“There are a lot of Pagan holidays that the Christians stole from us and made their own, but I don’t want to bore you with the details.” You wave your hand dismissively.

“No, I’d love to learn.” He looks at you earnestly.

“You sure? I kind of ruined your plans, I still don’t mind going! I do love a good gingerbread cookie and hot chocolate.” You smile.

“You sure?”

“I am!”

“I’m honoured, Sorceress” he smiles and puts his truck into drive.

You had an expectedly wonderful time at the Christmas festival, all thanks to Eddie. He made sure you were snug and warm, wrapping you up so the chill wouldn’t bite. As soon as you stepped through the gates, he treated you to hot chocolate and a gingerbread man.

The two of you shared endless laughter while attempting to ice skate, your conversations flowing effortlessly. Hours slipped by, and before you knew it, your toes were numb, signalling it was time to head home.

Parting ways felt bittersweet; you longed to keep the conversation going all night, but deep down, you knew that would be too much for a first date. The bond you shared was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and it was clear Eddie felt it, too. You could almost see the enchanting connection that drew you together, like shimmering golden dust swirling in the air, creating an invisible thread that linked your hearts.

As Eddie bid you goodnight, he bravely leaned in for a gentle kiss. It was like time stopped, all the puzzle pieces had failed into place. Even it if it was chaste, it was sweet and tender, and you could sense his nervousness, but you let him take his time, savouring the moment. A broad smile spread across your face, silently assuring him that you felt the same spark he did.

“I’ll call you.” he winks as he walks down the dirt driveway.

You pray to Hecate he does.

You’ve lost count of the amount of dates you and Eddie have been on. It’s been almost three months and you couldn’t be happier, but the anxiety of telling him about who you are has been clawing at the back of your mind and it needs to be soon. Joyce had warned you that if you don’t take action within the next few weeks then the window of opportunity will be sealed forever.

It seemed too soon like you were rushing into it. You hadn’t even said I love you, and yet you were expecting him to agree to a life of immortality with you?

Tonight, you had built up the courage to tell him about yourself. You invited Eddie over to your place. He has been here many times, but you glamoured most of the house to look somewhat normal. You hid your runes and sigils that were carved into your door frames, your potions room was made to look like a dining room, and your altar was locked away in the basement.

But tonight all of that would be revealed, hopefully, it would be a small amount of magic that would t make him go running for the hills.

As you looked around one last time, you heard Eddie approach the door.

With a deep breath, you feel Clover rub against your leg for reassurance.

“Thanks, babe.” You pick her up and open the door to see Eddie with his hand in a fist, like he was about to knock.

“How do you always do that” he smiles pulling you in for a kiss. You’re not sure how but he always makes your head spin with even the simplest of kisses.

“Call it intuition…”

You guide him into the kitchen and offer him a drink. He asked for a beer, and as you pour it into a glass, you may or may not have slipped a drop of that relaxing tonic you conjured up into it, just for insurance purposes.

“Mmm thank you, babe” Eddie smiles and you giggle at the a beer foam moustache on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You lean in a kiss it away.

“There, all better.” You lean back up to fix yourself a drink, a strong one.

You’re unusually quiet as the night goes on, and Eddie can sense something is up.

“You okay sweetheart?” He pushes your hair behind your shoulder as you both are curled up on the couch.

“Yea… it’s just. I have to tell you something, and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.” You twiddle with your almost empty glass in hand.

“You can tell me anything, you know that? Eddie’s reassurance wasn’t helping, but it was nice that he truly thought that.

You take a big, deep breath in, trying to think back to how you rehearsed your lines in your head, and you begin.

“I want you to know that I care about you a lot.” You don’t miss Eddie’s eyes light up as you continue, “and I know what I am about to share is not what you’re going to expect, but you have to believe me that it changes nothing.” You look him deep in the eyes.

“You’re freaking me out, babe.” He laughs nervously, so you take both his hands in yours.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

He chuckles uncomfortably once again.

“I’m not… like… other women.”

“No, you are not.” He wiggles his brows trying to lighten the mood.”

“Eddieeee” you draw out his name, “I’m serious.”

“Sorry, I‘ll be a good boy… for now.” You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Eddie laughs at your dramatics, but when your eyes roll back, making eye contact with him, he notices they’re not the same colour. They’re deep orange, almost auburn.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on” he tries to pull his hands away but you hold them tight.

“I told you, baby, I’m not like other women, I’m… different.” You thought letting the glamour of your eyes would help soften the blow but now you’re not so sure.

“Your eyes! They.. they’re orange!”

Eddie can’t look away, his face contorted with confusion.

“It’s because I’m anxious.”

“What does that mean?” He can’t look away. “Please, I want to understand.”

It wasn’t like he was scared more confused than anything.

“I’m a Witch, Eddie.” And with that you let the house revert to how it is supposed to be.

A guest of wind blew through the house and with it was unveiled the old wood, deep rich jewel tones painted on the walls, tapestries, the portraits of old coven members long gone, the broom sweeping by itself, the clean dishes being levitated to their correct spots.

Eddie was frozen, his jaw was moving up and down but no words were coming out. He looked around the changed room frantically but also did not want to look away from you. It’s not that he thought you would hurt him, no. He felt things for you that he’s never felt for one singular person… but now he isn’t so sure.

“This is insane” Eddie stood and your heart broke a little as you saw him start walking. Almost running to the door.

“Eddie, please! Let me explain! Don’t be scared!”

“Don’t be scared?! There is a broom moving by itself” he shouts.

“Please” you beg but it was of no use.

“Just, give me a second” he spoke before slamming the door behind him he leaves you alone in your big empty house.

Your eyes well up as you feel clover brush your ankles. Nudging you towards the door.

She was telling you to go after him, but how could you? You terrified him, your worst fears coming to reality.

“Clove, I can’t”

Yes, you can. She spoke to you telepathically.

As your familiar nudged you with her fluffy little head you stepped closer and closer toward the door.

Through the stained glass you could see a figure pacing up and down the dirt driveway.

“He didn’t leave” you whispered out loud.

See, you look down and Clover is eying you.

You decided to put the glamour back up, in case your eyes still freaked him out.

“Eddie” you call out tentatively.

“Babe, just… I need a minute” his breathing was heavy, his face contorted with confusion and he was mumbling to himself.

To think you’re the crazy one in this situation…

On the bright side, he still called you babe, and not by your name.

“Okay,” you stand awkwardly on the porch and wait for him to calm down.

After what felt like hours Eddie built up the courage to glance at you. His heart fluttered at the sight of you. Not because he was scared or nervous but because he knew you were it for him. Even after he digested the bomb you just dropped on him, he knew he wanted to be with you.

“You are one freaky girl” he pointed as he walked towards the porch steps.

“I thought you liked freaky” You can’t help but flirt. It came so naturally to him.

“You have no idea” he pulled you in for a hug. A suffocating, bone-crushing hug. One that told you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Ok let’s talk,” he pulled away and you led him back in the house.

You started from the beginning, explaining the coven, how your parents were also magical, but had been off gallivanting through the Betwixed realm for years now.

“So, are you like 100 years old?” He smirks, and you smack his bicep.

“No, I’m exactly how old I told you I am”

“Sorry,” he laughed.

You explain how the magic works, and he asks you if you’ve ever used any on him.

“The only thing I have used in you is a tonic to calm you but it obviously didn’t work. Guess I needed more for you,” you half laugh to yourself.

“That’s it? Really?”

“Technically, yes.” you pause. and he waits silently for you to explain. “I performed an enchantment to find you.” You twiddle the hem of your skirt nervously.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you, specifically, more like a nudge to point us both in the right direction.”

“So that’s why I had that feeling to go somewhere and I hadn’t known why? That’s why I walked into your shop!” He snapped his fingers as he put the pieces together.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“So you desperately wanted me?” He moved closer, inviting your space.

“Desperate?” You gasp.

“Yes, little Witch” he placed a gentle finger on your chin, nudging you to look at him.

“We would have found one another eventually, it was written in the starts. Isn’t that what your cards told us?”

“But we are running out of time” you confess.

“What?” Eddie pulled back.

“There is this… rule, I guess you could call it? If a witch finds a mortal match, then they only have a small window to perform a ritual to make their loved one immortal, like them.”

“Immortal?”

“Yes, Eddie.” You sigh, “I can live forever if I want. We have life-extending magic, I don’t age the same. Our aging slows down as of the twentieth year of a witch’s life. I will look like this for the next sixty-five years probably.”

“Woah” Eddie whispers.

“And the thought of us going through life together with you growing old and dying.” You choke back tears.

“Hey, hey” Eddie soothed, and you took a deep breath.

“But there is something we can do.” You sniffle.

“I know it’s so soon, and a bit crazy. But I can promise you forever with me if that’s what you choose”

Eddie’s eyes widen at the offering, “you don’t have to give me an answer now, but I will need to know soon, maybe a month or so.”

“Then what?”

“Then I perform the ritual, or I wipe your memory clean of any of this” You can’t help your voice from cracking.

“Oh,” Eddie looks down in disappointment.

“Yeah….” A single purple tear falls down your cheek.

You look up at Eddie and he sees your eyes are a deep blue, so blue Eddie knows what that feeling means. Sadness, despair, suffering.

“So I live forever with you, or we break up?”

“Yeah,” you sombrely nod your head.

“What if I choose to live forever then, let’s say in a hundred years we decide to break up… then what?”

“That won’t happen, it doesn’t work like that.”

“How do you know?”

“The fates decided Eddie. When I cast the Amorem enchantment it draws the best two people suited for one another. Think of it like a soul mate match. We will never find another one suited for us.”

“What if I just want to live a normal life with you and not be immortal?”

“Then I’m going to look like this and you’ll be a wrinkled old prune… and eventually I would watch you die and know that I’ll never have another love like ours.”

“That dosen’t seem any better.” He sighs

“No, it’s much worse actually” You play with Eddie’s fingers as he contemplates his future.

“I think I’m going to need something a bit stronger than this beer” he laughs half heartedly.

“I have just the thing”

After you whipped up a mood-boosting elixir, your night with Eddie became much easier to get through. The damper had been lifted as you and Eddie got drunk off the potion, boosting your serotonin levels.

Eddie had never been so carefree and you were begging to feel much more positive about your future with Eddie. Maybe it was false hope in the fates, but you also trusted your magic.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie and you were in your bed, tucked in after a long night of just wanting to be close to each other.

“Sure” Eddie scoops you into his chest.

“Are mermaids real? Because I would love to— ouch!”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence” you had pinched his nipple. Were you jealous? Maybe a little, but mermaids were vile creatures, nothing like Disney cracked them up to be.

“Are they real?” Eddie flinched.

“Unfortunately”

“Cool!”

“What about Vampires?”

“Yep.”

“Werewolves?”

“Yep.”

“Unicorns?”

“Come on Eddie don’t be ridiculous” you snort.

“What? So witches, vampires, mermaids and werewolves are all real but the universe draws the line at unicorns?!”

You burst out into a fit of giggles and before Eddie can even stop to think about what he is staying the words come tumbling out.

“God, I love you.”

The room falls quiet, no longer are you laughing.

“I uh- I mean-“

“I love you, too” You lean down to kiss him.

That nearly invisible force connecting you was now clear as day, to you at least. The magical pull that binds the two of you is now completed, and will never be broken.

A faint glow filled the room as Eddie and your lips connected, a warmth was felt throughout your whole body, you were sure Eddie felt it too. The magical thread that connected you, whether Eddie accepted the fates or not… even if you wiped his memory of you, you both would still be able to feel it. No matter how long or how far apart you were.

“Really? You love me?” Eddie asks.

“I just asked you to spend forever with me, and you’re questioning if I love you?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it again.” His lips brushed yours ever so slightly.

“I love you, Eddie Munson”

“I love you, little Witch.”

You let down your guard, the magic swirled in flecks of silver and gold light around the two of you as you lay on top of Eddie’s chest. His eyes widen at the sight above him. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever encountered.

“Woah” he gasped, awestruck at the floating lights. “I think I could get used to this magic thing”

You let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. Like a weight was lifted once you heard Eddie’s acceptance. Finally, you felt hopeful about your future.

It’s been a week and a half since your confession to Eddie and things are going surprisingly well. His fascination is ever-growing as he keeps coming up with questions to ask you. The nature of your reality was sinking in, he was enamoured with the thought of you being supernatural. He wanted to learn, and you were happy to teach you were happy he accepted you for who you are and not pushing you away from fear.

You hadn’t brought up the offer since that night, you were waiting for him to let you know his decision, but you were hopeful because of his fascination.

Today was a lazy day, you both have the rare day off at the same time, so Eddie was over and you were cuddling on the couch when he spoke up.

“I want to do it.”

“Do what, babe?”

“Forever with you.”

“Really?” a broad smile spreads across your face. nothing could keep you from your eyes turning yellow.

Eddie still wasn’t quite used to all your magical quirks. However, he loved that your true mood could be read just by looking into your eyes. He loved learning what each colour meant, especially when they were red.

“Really.” Eddie gave you a chaste kiss before pulling away to ask how the whole spell thing worked.

“I think you’re going to like it.” You smirk knowingly.

Sometime later, you were finally finished downstairs in your altar room. The circle of protection chalked on the floor. The muddled herbs, bark and flowers boiled down into a paste, and your grimour propped open onto the spell you needed.

The room was only lit by candlelight, twenty or so, spread across the room.

You reach for Eddie’s hand and guide him down the stairs.

“You must be sure this is one hundred percent what you want. It will not work if you are not willing to give up your mortality.”

“I’ve never been so sure about anyone.”

“Okay, let us begin” You smirk, knowing Eddie has no idea what he is getting himself into.

“Strip, please”

“Oh,” he raises a brow. Then he sees it. Your red eyes. “Ohhh” He quickly discards his clothing.

You watch as his cock is already stiffening.

“Now be a good boy and step into the circle and lay down,” you ask while also discarding your garments.

Eddie quickly obeys your orders.

“Would you like me to explain the steps before or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Will it hurt?”

“No”

“Surprise me.” Eddie didn’t think his cock could be any harder. The anticipation was foreplay enough.

You begin the ritual with a deep breath, stepping into the circle with your crystal bowl you straddle Eddie. You scoop the paste you created and create sigils over eddies chest with them while chanting in a language Eddie didn’t recognize.

“Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty.”

Your hips start to gride on Eddie’s as you get lost in the chant. Your magic starts to take over your body as you get lost in all of it. The feeling, the love, the magic. Your red eyes were now glowing pure white. Eddie gazed up at you in awe as you continued chanting. He was not sure if you were still here with him or if something had taken over your body.

“Fuck.” Eddie slips and your hand covers his mouth before your pussy slips his cock inside.

Possessed by the magic you were channelling, your body performs the spell. The faster you chanted, the faster you fucked Eddie.

Sex with you had been amazing, but nothing had compared to this. He loved the thrill of this, there was no way he would change his mind.

Eddie tried to tell you he was going to come, unsure if he was allowed to yet. But your hand still muffled his mouth.

You felt him deep in your gut, His thick cock stretching your walls, hitting every spot you needed. Euphoria was essential to the spell and Eddie sure was holding up his end of it.

You heard muffled mumbles come for Eddie and you released your hand from his mouth. You were so far into the chanting that you couldn’t be stopped now even if Eddie tried to interrupt.

“Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty. Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty.”

Eddie thinks those words will be etched into his memory forever.

His hands roam your body before planting them on your hips. He couldn’t help himself he had to have it harder. Planting his feet on the ground, Eddie snaps his hips up into you, meeting your pace. The wet sounds of skin-on-skin echo through the basement walls, faster and faster, louder and louder. Your voice trumps the delicious sounds of sex, and then it hits you both. Your mind-numbing, explosive orgasms rip through each of you. Your bodies shake, and you let out a loud cry of pure bliss.

A blinding white light fills the room, blowing out all the candles you lit before they relate themselves. You collapse on top of Eddie, exhausted by the amount of magic youve performed.

Breathless you and Eddie stay connected.

“It is done?” Eddie asks in a daze, not sure if he is supposed to feel any different.

Without enough energy to speak, you nod your head against Eddie’s chest.

“You’re incredible, little Witch.” and that is the last thing you remember before falling asleep.

You wake up, your cheek cemented to Eddie’s tattoo-clad chest.

“There she is.” Eddie storks your hair.

“How long was I out?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from our eyes.

“An hour, I can only guess.”

Eddie shifted and you felt him still inside of you so you grind your soar hips so he slips further in.

“You’re a succubus.”

“You wish” You kiss his neck. “How do you feel?”

“Like I could move a mountian.” Eddie sighs as you grind down on him, cock growing with each push.

“Mmmm, good” you hum.

Eddie could no longer take it, even though he had the best orgasm of his life an hour ago, you were like a drug to him. He wanted more.

Flipping you around so you are on your back, Eddie spreads your legs further apart, watching how his cock buried deep within you.

You admire the now permanent sigil etched into his skin like a tattoo. You didn’t even know if Eddie was aware of the new ink that came with forever existence, but that all gets erased when his hips jerk so deeply within you that your eyes turn a colour Eddie has never seen before. The most beautiful deep purple.

“Baby" you moan.

“Fuck, little Witch,” you can’t help but clamp down on him.

“Oh you like that don’t you, Sorceress.”

“Y-yes” you tremble.”

Eddie can’t believe how powerful he feels; you’ve granted him this gift and he needs to show his appreciation in return.

He pulls out, and you plead, but not for long because he buries his face between your legs. Your sweet slick coats his tongue as it dances around your clit.

“More” You plead. Your hips gride down on his chin, and the stubble on his cheeks scrapes your inner thighs.

“I’ll give you anything you want.” He was yours to serve. His tounge swirls around your extra sensitive clit.

“Make me cum.”

A wave of pleasure hits you hard when Eddie pushes his cock back inside your needy cunt. With each thrust, he works himself through your orgasm, making your head spin; wave after wave consumes your body. You feel his hands graze your nipples, tweaking them and making you clench down on him even tighter.

With Eddie’s head thrown back, sweat dripping down his chest glittering the candle light he looked like a deity.

After one more final thrust Eddie collapses on top of you.

“That was amazing.” He nuzzles into your neck and you can’t help but agree.

When Eddie finally pulls out, you feel a rush of release come out with him.

“You’re a messy little Witch, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

“Yes” he slips a finger through your slit collecting your combined cum and you jerk away, your cunt all so sensitive.

“Well, you’re the one who asked for it” you smirk.

“I would be an idiot to deny being with you like this for eternity”

“You think so?”

“Know so.”

tags : @ghostlyfleur @veemoon @abitchyouhate @thewayitalknj @mediocredreams @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth @daisy-munson @strawberrycheesecakedelight @just-random-thoughts-and-things @oneforthemunny @gagasbee @abirdinthehouse @saintlvcifer @hauntedfawnn @eerielamb @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult @andvys @pollenallergie

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corrcdedcoffin · 5 months ago

Text

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."

127 notes · View notes

corrcdedcoffin · 5 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter six

word count; 12,386

chapter notes; the trio subdues jackson using totally normal, and not at all illegal methods. gerard argent is a creepy old asshole. danny eventually cracks to give up some useful information. and lydia, as always, is leagues smarter than she gets credit for.

masterlist

c h a p t e r s i x

frenemy

The wind whipped loudly as it beat in through the open window, blowing Scott's hair around wildly as he hung the top half of his body out of the moving vehicle, using his nose to guide them out to the edge of town. After ten minutes of following some scent that only he was aware of, he eventually pulled his head back inside of the vehicle, dropping into his seat and fidgeting as if he were ready to bolt from the car at any moment.

Amber was about to question his sudden restlessness when Stiles slammed down on the brakes all-too suddenly and the Jeep jerked to a violent halt, coming to a stop just before they could run over a nearly imperceptible line of tire spikes that stretched across the cement between dilapidated buildings. Roscoe's tires squealed in protest and one of Stiles' arms was thrown out across Amber's chest to counteract the continuing momentum, holding her back against her seat and only narrowly saving her from bashing her head against the metal dashboard.

Amber gasped at the sudden stop as Stiles leaned his weight onto his left arm over the steering wheel. Forearm still pressed to her chest, he turned to look across the vehicle at Scott, "Right. What do we do now?" He questioned immediately.

Instead of offering a response, Amber was hit with a sudden rush of cold air, the passenger door thrown open as Scott shot off into the dark.

"Wh- Scott-!" She yelled in surprise at his retreating form.

He didn't turn around. Instead, he scaled the tall, fifteen foot chain link fence at the edge of the road in a quick, inhumanly agile move and dropped down gracefully to the other side before taking off into the darkness.

"I- Be careful!" Amber called out uselessly as he vanished from sight.

"I'm just a car to him," Stiles muttered despondently to himself, "I am nothing more than the superhero's chauffeur to and from battle."

Amber couldn't hold back a roll of her eyes, reaching over to pull the passenger door closed before turning to her boyfriend, "Are you fishing for a compliment, right now?"

"What?" Stiles asked in confusion, "No-"

"Mhm, whatever you say," With a shake of her head, she pulled his arm away from where it was still thrown across her sternum and wrapped her fingers around his own as she placed their hands over the gearshift, "Let's go, Batman." She urged playfully.

The grip of his hand tightened beneath hers and he was shifting the Jeep into reverse without any further prompting. The car whipped around in a flash and they began to drive along the dark buildings in search.

They continued on for several minutes before they seemed to come to a slightly more populated area. A cluster of cars had been parked in a large lot, people lined up along the side street as they waited to be let into a brick building. What had once been a warehouse now donned a bright, neon sign reading Jungle.

No words needed to be shared before Stiles parked his own vehicle in a spot at the back of the lot. He was dropping an arm around her shoulders the moment they met at the front of the car, both of them watching for late night traffic as they crossed the dark street and headed toward the alleyway at the side of the busy building.

As they crept closer, Amber could make out the dull thumping of bass-heavy music pouring out from inside, the pulsating sound only confirming her suspicions that the building had been converted into a nightclub.

The two spotted Scott making his way around from the back of the brick building and their feet carried them in his direction that much faster.

He hadn't yet noticed them. Scott had stopped at the corner of the building to peek out at the line of people queued before the door. Amber reached out to grab ahold of his shoulder but just before she could make contact, Scott spun to face them sharply, the defensive reaction causing both Amber and Stiles to jump in surprise.

"Holy crap!" Scott exclaimed in slight relief upon realizing that it was only his friends.

"Sorry!" Amber apologized quickly, "Sorry, we didn't mean to-"

"Did you see where he went?" Stiles interrupted, letting his arm drop from Amber's shoulder to his side as he looked around them, gaze making a slow trail as if he expected Jackson to appear out of thin air.

"I lost him." Scott admitted quickly, already looking back toward the crowd of people out front.

"What?" Amber huffed in disbelief.

"You couldn't catch his scent?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"I don't think he has one." Scott revealed with wide eyes.

"Alright. That- that's fine." Amber sighed, "Do you have any idea where he's going?"

"To kill someone." Scott replied seriously.

The genuine way he voiced the information had Amber's eyes flicking to her boyfriend and she managed to catch sight of Stiles' slow blink of irritation before he spoke.

"Ah.." Stiles nodded in mock understanding, raising his eyebrows with a hum, "Well that explains the claws and the fangs and all that.. Good. Makes perfect sense now-"

Scott turned around to shoot Stiles an annoyed glare while Amber rolled her eyes fondly. There was a brief moment of silence between the three of them before Stiles simply barreled on.

"What? Guys, I'm a hundred and forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay?" He defended in a whine, "Sarcasm is my only defense!"

"Baby, don't be so dramatic." Amber scolded, reaching up to smooth her thumb back and forth along the back of his neck.

Stiles perked up slightly, "Was that 'baby' like a cute pet name or 'baby' because you think I'm acting like a-"

"Will you guys just help me find it-" Scott demanded seriously, looking between the two of them with a scowl.

"Not an 'it' anymore," Amber was quick to reminded him, "It's Jackson."

Scott sighed, "I know. I-I know."

"Alright, but does Derek know that?" Stiles asked suddenly, "Did anybody else see him back at your house?"

"I mean, I-I don't think so but he already passed Derek's test anyway." Scott said quietly.

"Speaking of that, how the hell did he pass Derek's test?" Amber questioned as she looked between them, "I mean, he said they poured it down his throat and he was paralyzed, right? If he's the kanima, shouldn't it have not worked? I mean, how could that even happen?"

"I don't know." Scott frowned.

"Maybe it's like an either/or thing," Stiles supplied, "I mean, Derek said a snake can't be poisoned by its own venom, right? So, when's the kanima not the kanima?" He prompted, looking between Scott and Amber.

"..When it's Jackson?" She questioned aloud.

Scott frowned and peered around the side of the building again to look at the crowd while Amber gnawed on her lower lip in thought. She was suddenly tugged backwards by a hand fisted in her shirt and she allowed Stiles to drag her back a few steps before she turned her head to look at him in confusion. Her gaze followed his own wide blown eyes to the roof of the building where she saw the kanima crawling its way down the bricks.

Her stomach dropped.

"Uh.." She choked out weakly as she stumbled back into Stiles' chest.

"Dude-" Stiles said, gaining Scott's attention.

Scott turned back around to look at his friends curiously, stepping toward them and following their gazes up the side of the building where the kanima was now crawling inside through an open window, tail swishing in the air behind it.

"Y'see that?" Stiles asked Scott, watching the dark scaly tail still hanging outside the window as it flicked back and forth.

"He's inside." Scott stated obviously.

"What's he gonna do in there?" Amber questioned nervously.

Scott was silent for a moment and Amber's gaze drifted back down to her friend at his lack of response. He was looking anxiously at the crowd of people lined up at the door again.

"I know who he's after." Scott announced.

"What? Who?" Amber questioned.

"How? Did you smell something?" Stiles asked quickly.

The person at the front of the line was admitted inside the club and as the next person stepped forward, Amber blinked in surprise at the sight of Danny handing his ID over to the bouncer who was working the door.

"Yeah. Yeah, I smelled Armani." Scott told them, nodding his head in Danny's direction.

Amber yanked the two boys back into the alley sharply and they made small noises of protest as she did so. When she released them, they both righted their shirts and shot her matching looks of disgruntled confusion.

"Danny must have a fake, but we are not old enough to get in here. And don't even start to fight me on this. Your fake IDs suck-" She told them before they could make the argument, "So, we'll just have to sneak in through the back."

"Have I told you how ridiculously attractive you are when you're coming up with a plan?" Stiles questioned, wincing when he received an immediate punch in the shoulder from Scott.

Without a moment's hesitation, Amber was tugging her long-sleeved shirt over her head to leave herself in just the tiny lace bra top she had on underneath, adjusting the hem of it where it ended above her belly button.

"What are you doing?" Scott and Stiles both asked in abnormally high voices.

She blinked at them in surprise and dropped her shirt carelessly to the filthy ground in the alleyway, "I'm making myself club-y." She told them obviously, "We'll get kicked out in ten seconds if we're walking around in there looking like sixteen year olds who don't belong."

She bent over at the waist to fluff her hair with her hands before standing back upright again and taking in the boy's outfits with a frown.

"What?" Stiles asked after a few seconds, shrinking back under her gaze.

"Gimme your sweatshirt." Amber demanded, holding a hand out.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, "You just took your top off and now you wanna steal my sweatshirt?" The words fell from his lips with barely concealed disbelief.

"No, I just want you to not be wearing it," She told him, "You are not going to wear a zip-up hoodie in a nightclub." She stated obviously.

"Uh, I am going to wear a zip-up hoodie in the nightclub," Stiles defended without hesitation, "Because this is what I'm wearing. It's cold out!"

"It won't be cold in the club!" She argued.

"We seriously don't have time for this, you guys," Scott scolded them, "Come on."

Amber huffed, leaning over her boyfriend's shoulder and plastering herself to his side as they walked down the alley to the side doors of the building, "You win this round, Stilinski." She whispered in a warm puff of air over his ear.

A quiet noise rose in his throat at the feeling of her lips against the shell of his ear and Amber laughed quietly, pressing a sloppy kiss into his short hair. She released her boyfriend and fell into step between him and Scott as they snuck over to the side doors of the club.

Stiles' reached out first, and when the door didn't immediately open beneath his grip, he proceeded to shake the knob violently. After a few moments without success, he released the door with a sigh, scrunching his nose cutely as he stepped back and looked up at the building in search of another way in.

"Alright, maybe there's like a, uh.. Like, a window we can climb through," He suggested as Scott wrapped his own fingers around the doorknob, "Or some kind of-"

There was a sudden crunch of bending metal followed by a loud creak as Scott pulled the door open. He dropped the torn off doorknob into Amber's hand and she snorted in amusement, shaking her head as she handed the disfigured piece of metal off to her boyfriend.

"-Handle that we could rip off with supernatural strength." Stiles finished lamely, "How'd I not think of that one?" He asked in disbelief as Amber tugged him through the doorway and into the building.

The music from the speakers pounded loudly inside, bass thrumming with heavy vibrations that Amber could feel nearly rattling the bones in her body. The large space was dark aside from the strobe lights that flashed at random intervals, the stop and go of the blinking lights making it difficult to make out distinct faces in the crowd.

The moment they'd stepped inside, there were bodies bumping against them as people crowded together in the dark space, club-goers moving around in tight proximity, pressing close and grinding together sensually to the thumping beat of the music. The clubgoers dancing against one another seemed to be almost exclusively same sex couples and it only took Amber approximately two seconds from the moment they stepped inside to realize that Jungle wasn't just a night club, it was a gay night club.

Two girls trading kisses between distracted steps bumped Amber's shoulder as they headed to the hallway toward the restrooms, shooting her a halfhearted apology before one of the girls grabbed the ass of the other and they both giggled and disappeared in the dark.

"Dude!" Scott yelled over the music after a few moments, "Everyone here is either a dude, or a girl making out with another girl!" He observed slowly, "I think we're in a gay club!"

"Nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses, huh, Scott?" Stiles yelled sarcastically from a few feet away.

Amber turned around to find her boyfriend being doted on by a group of mildly intoxicated, but beautifully done up drag queens, one of them stroking a finger along Stiles' sharp cheekbone admiringly.

"He's pretty cute isn't he?" Amber asked the women sweetly, pulling Stiles out of the horde by his arm and giving her boyfriend's cheek a loving pinch.

"Amazing cheekbones, this one," One of the ladies complimented, "If I had cheekbones like that I'd die happy."

Stiles blushed and after only a few more exchanged pleasantries, he pulled Amber away from the group, dragging her in the direction of the bar as she laughed at him. Scott followed only half a step behind them, the warmth of his chest pressed against Amber's back as he tried not to lose his friends in the crowd.

"She was right. You do have amazing cheekbones, y'know-" Amber said loudly over the music.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, you." Stiles squeezed his hand lightly where it was wrapped around her arm.

As they pushed through the final throng of people that separated them from the bar, Stiles finally released his girlfriend, stepping up to slam both of his hands down on the bartop with enthusiasm.

"Three beers!" Stiles demanded in visible excitement.

The shirtless bartender threw the rag in his hands over his naked shoulder and looked between Scott and Stiles with narrowed eyes, "You two got IDs?"

Both boys scrambled for their wallets and stealthily pulled their fake IDs from the back pockets, handing them over as Amber grimaced with a small shake of her head.

The pathetic slips of paper weren't even laminated.

The bartender raised his eyebrows and shot a small smile at the boys in disbelief, "How 'bout two Cokes for you guys?"

"Rum and Coke?" Stiles asked quickly, "Sure!" At the bartender's unimpressed look, Stiles sighed, "Coke's fine, actually.. I'm driving anyway-"

The bartender slipped away to ring up their order, re-emerging to set one green glass bottle onto the counter and following up immediately with two plastic cups of cola, sliding Scott and Amber's drinks toward them with a grin.

"Those two are paid for." He told them, nodding his head in a gesture to the other side of the bar.

Amber looked over the man's shoulder and saw a boy lifting his drink in salute to Scott and a very pretty girl with short hair grinning at Amber just a little further down. Amber took her bottle with a shy smile of thanks before she turned to face Scott who was grinning bashfully, and her boyfriend who was wearing a deep scowl.

"Oh, shut up. Both of you." Stiles snapped before either one of them could even speak.

"We didn't say anything." Scott defended as he grabbed his drink.

"Yeah, well, your faces did." Stiles huffed, dropping a few bills on the bar-top before slipping the tiny cocktail straw in his drink between his lips and taking an angry sip.

"I told you not to wear the hoodie," Amber pointed out with a shrug, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a tentative sip of the cold beverage. She swallowed the bitter liquid, frowning as she examined the bottle in her hands, "..I'm not sure I like beer." She admitted.

"Just be grateful you got one." Stiles muttered grimly, taking another long sip from his Coke.

Amber leaned in to redirect the tiny straw in his fingers to her own lips and pulled in a long sip of the carbonated sweetness to wash down the lingering traces of beer. She abandoned her bottle on the bar behind them without an ounce of regret, wiping the cool drops of lingering condensation from her hand as she rubbed her palm over her jeans.

Stiles moved to drape himself over her back, bicep slung over her shoulder as he held his drink where they could both easily reach the straw. They stood watch beside the bar and scanned the crowd on the dancefloor through the flashing lights for a couple of minutes in search.

"Hey, I found Danny." Stiles announced suddenly over the loud music, bright lights flashing over his features as he pulled back to leave his cup behind them on the bar.

"I found Jackson." Scott countered, his eyes glued to the rafters along the ceiling.

Amber's eyes snapped up to the industrial metal beams above the dancefloor, heart pounding nervously when she just made out Jackson's scaly, more terrifying form moving in calculated steps with its attention glued to his friend on the dancefloor.

"Guys. Get Danny." Scott told them without looking away from the creature.

"What're you gonna do?" Amber questioned worriedly, eyes flicking between her best friend and the kanima quickly.

Scott held his hands out at his sides wordlessly and claws suddenly emerged, sharp pointed nails sprouting from his fingertips.

"Works for me." Stiles acknowledged, grabbing Amber's shoulder and pushing her in the direction of the dancefloor.

One of her hands held a firm grip on the hood of her boyfriend's sweatshirt as they pushed through the throng of grinding bodies, mumbling apologies as they turned this way and that to slip through the narrow spaces between couples. Her eyes caught on Danny once again as a group parted and she waved a hand above her head in an attempt to get his attention.

"Danny!" She yelled over the loud thumping of the music.

There were hands suddenly on her waist, fingers pressing into the strip of bare skin on her stomach as someone plastered themselves to her back. Hot breath fanned out over her ear and her hand slipped from Stiles' sweatshirt when she flinched in surprise, watching hopelessly as he immediately disappeared in the crowd.

"Someone named Danny ignoring you?" A deep voice asked.

Amber's fingers grappled at the hands on her waist and they loosened their grip easily, releasing her as she spun around to face an attractive man with light hair. She blinked in surprise and took a small step back.

"I thought this was a gay club." She stated over the loud music, her body being nudged forward into the man's chest when someone bumped into her from behind as they danced.

"I'm bi," The guy told her, shouting in an attempt to be heard over the noise of the club, "Heard you calling out for Danny and thought you might be too-"

"Oh! I, uh-"

The stranger looked out at the crowd before focusing on her again, "Oh! Wow. Shit- Is Danny a girl? Like, Danielle?"

"I- Sorry! Sorry, I actually really gotta go-" Amber apologized awkwardly, cutting the conversation short and stepping back as a heavy cloud of fog fell from the ceiling and cascaded down onto the dancefloor.

As she began to push through the crowd again, it was significantly more difficult to see than it had been only a few moments before. The fog from the machines above them was thick and the flashing lights seemed to make things more blurry as they reflected against the clouds in the air.

"Stiles?" She yelled over the music, "Danny!" She called out again uselessly.

A scream sounded out over the bass-heavy music and she pushed her way through the crowd more frantically. There was a familiar red glow just a few yards away, two bright beacons cutting through the dark that prompted Amber to shove her way through the bodies with more vigor. She scrambled to get to where she could just barely make out Derek's glowing eyes through the thick gray clouds of fog.

She pushed through just as Derek swiped a clawed hand through the darkness and scratched a deep gash across the kanima's throat. A yelp of surprise spilled past her lips as her hands flew up to cover her mouth, watching with wide eyes as Derek took ahold of the scaly creature and moved toward the back door that was positioned only a few feet away at the edge of the dancefloor.

"Derek!" She called out, stomach tossing and turning with nausea as she trailed behind and pushed out the doors into the alleyway with a crash, "What did you do!" Amber yelled after him in panic, her feet carrying her in the direction she'd seen him vanish as he'd headed toward the parking lot, "Did you- You killed-?"

She blinked in confusion, twisting around in slow turns as she looked for any sign of Derek, only to come up empty — The werewolf was gone. Her eyes fell to where Derek had dropped the creature to the pavement uncaringly, her heart pounding painfully in her chest as she looked down at the bloody creature who'd been left for dead.

In the light of the parking lot behind the building, she could see that Jackson was already beginning to return to normal; scales slowly fading into smooth skin and bulky frame shifting back into a smaller teenage body. It only took a minute for the shift to fully take effect and then Jackson was naked and unconscious, his pale human skin marred a deep crimson with the blood from the gash in his throat.

She fell to her knees beside the boy as soon as he'd returned to normal, her shaking hands hovering in hesitation over his bloody chest as she debated what to do. The cut along his throat already appeared slightly smaller than it had only moments before and she watched in relief as Jackson's chest rose and fell with slow breaths.

The sound of running footsteps approaching had her head snapping up to find Scott rounding a parked car and skidding to a stop a few feet away from where Amber was knelt beside Jackson's naked, blood soaked body. He blinked at the scene in front of him in surprise and Amber leaned back to sit on her heels with a shaky breath.

"I- We need to clean all the blood off so we can make sure he's healing-" She told him weakly, eyes flicking back down to Jackson's bloody throat again.

Scott merely blinked again and there were suddenly another set of footfalls running through the parking lot. Amber looked around the parked cars worriedly but it was Stiles who came into view next, the look of shock on his face closely resembling Scott's.

"Guys, c'mon, seriously-" She urged when neither one of them moved nor said anything.

With a collective flinch, the boys both jumped into action all at once. Stiles rushed over to help Amber to her feet while Scott grabbed ahold of Jackson's hands, already beginning to drag him across the pavement in the direction of the Jeep.

"You're gonna scrape up his back-" She started to protest, taking an immediate step toward Scott.

"He'll heal, Amber." Scott reminded her as he pulled Jackson around to the trunk of the vehicle.

"Right," She shook her head, "You're right."

The moment Stiles had tugged open the door to the trunk, Amber was digging around in search. She located a couple bottles of water, unscrewing the cap from one and immediately beginning to pour it over Jackson's neck and shoulders. The blood and water mixed together to rinse away in a cloudy stream down his body, revealing the smooth, clean skin of Jackson's throat.

"I gotta say.." Stiles began suddenly, casting a sidelong glance back toward his girlfriend as he dug around in the back of the vehicle, "Not loving how close you are to Jackson's naked junk right now." He admitted as he emerged with the thick wool blanket that they kept in the trunk for picnics and camping trips.

"Dude." Scott deadpanned in disbelief, already helping Amber rinse Jackson off with the second bottle of water.

Amber wiped at a stubborn patch of drying blood from Jackson's neck beneath the stream and shook her head at her boyfriend, "Yeah, now's not an ideal time for jealousy, Sti."

"Yeah, alright, point taken." He conceded weakly.

Amber reached out to take the blanket but Stiles refused to hand it over, moving forward instead to carelessly wrap it around Jackson's naked body himself. Once Jackson was covered, Scott stepped forward and scooped the unconscious boy up with ease, moving around the side of the Jeep to lay him down in the backseat.

Amber wiped her hands off with a napkin from the glove compartment as she sat down in the front seat and Scott and Stiles piled into the vehicle only a second behind her. They pulled around the building and parked at the front instead so they could watch as the paramedics began to wheel paralyzed clubgoers outside.

As soon as they spotted Danny being carried out on a stretcher, Scott was climbing stealthily from the Jeep and Amber couldn't hold back a sigh.

"Jesus. How many people did Jackson attack in there?" She asked in distress, looking between the boy in the backseat and the doors of the building where there seemed to be an endless train of stretchers rolling out of the doors.

"I'm not sure," Stiles mumbled, "A lot."

His fingers were drumming against the steering wheel in a quick rhythm, the quiet thudthudthud of his hand coming down again and again in an agitated beat. Amber watched the anxious tick for a long minute before placing a hand on his thigh and giving it a soft squeeze.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't still be here," Stiles said with a shake of his head, "Scott needs to hurry up."

"Maybe you should just get a more inconspicuous car," Amber suggested, eyeing the bright blue paint on the Jeep's hood before her eyes flicked back to meet her boyfriend's unimpressed glare, "-Or not."

It was only another couple of seconds before the passenger door was being wrenched open again with a creak as Scott climbed back inside the Jeep. Amber and Stiles both turned toward him expectantly and Scott frowned under the weight of their gazes.

"I couldn't get anything out of Danny." Scott announced.

"Okay, can we just get the hell out of here now before one of my dad's deputies sees me?" Stiles asked frantically.

He spun around in his seat to turn the key in the ignition, but the engine merely ground weakly as it struggled to turn over. A short blare of a siren rang out above the noise of the Jeep's struggle as another police vehicle hurtled into the parking lot in front of them. They all watched wide-eyed as Stiles' father's Sheriff's cruiser came to a stop just a few yards away.

"Oh my god. Oh my god! Could this get any worse?" Stiles yelled in panic.

A weak groan sounded from the backseat as Jackson shifted beneath the blanket with his eyes still closed and they all spun around to look at the boy in surprise.

"That was rhetorical!" Stiles snapped at Jackson's sleeping body.

The three friends sitting in the front spun to look back out the windshield again in distress as the lights on the Sheriff's cruiser continued to flash at them almost tauntingly.

"Get rid of him!" Scott told Stiles in a rush.

"Get rid of him!?" Stiles repeated just a bit too loudly, "We're at a crime scene and he's the Sheriff-"

"He- He's not just gonna leave-" Amber told Scott obviously.

Scott shuffled in his seat and gestured to the police vehicle in front of them again with wild movements of his hands, "I- Do something!" He amended.

Stiles' face pinched up like he wanted to say something else but instead opted to flail his arms at them in silent frustration before throwing the driver's side door open and falling out of the car in a mess of limbs. The door slammed shut behind him and Amber watched intently as Stiles and his father approach one another but her attention was torn away when Jackson sat up in the backseat.

"What's.. What's hap-"

"Shh. Back to sleep," Amber cut off his weak questions, pressing a hand to Jackson's chest and urging him gently to lay back down, "I'm gonna go help Stiles." She announced, not waiting for a response from Scott before she was tumbling out of the vehicle after her boyfriend.

"Wha'd'you mean what am I doing here?" Stiles asked his dad, "What? It's a club! It's a club. We were clubbing, y'know?" He explained as his girlfriend stepped up beside him, "At.. At the club.."

He dropped an arm around Amber's bare shoulders as he spoke and his father eyed the unconscious gesture obviously, giving the two of them a knowing look.

"Not exactly your type of club." Sheriff Stilinski stated, raising his eyebrows deliberately at his son.

Stiles blinked in realization and took a small step away from her as he dropped his arm, hands coming together in front of himself in a display of nerves.

"Uh. Well, dad," He started slowly, "There's a conversation that we-"

"You're not gay." Sheriff Stilinski interrupted blankly.

"W- I could be!" Stiles was quick to defend.

"Dressed like that?" His father asked judgmentally as he assessed his son's outfit.

Stiles balked, "Wh-"

"Told you." Amber muttered under her breath just soft enough that only Stiles could make out her words, masking the quiet comment with a cough.

He frowned petulantly, looking between his father and his girlfriend, "I-"

The Sheriff's eyes drifted over to Amber with an unimpressed look before moving back over to his son, "Not to mention you have a girlfriend."

"Open relationships and polyamory are actually a lot more common than you think-" She supplied, finally inserting herself in the conversation, "Not to mention bisexuality. Or bi-curiousity. And then there's pansexuality, which there's a lot of debate about, but I think it's honestly kind of just ano-"

Sheriff Stilinski seemed entirely uninterested in her rambling and he shook his head as he took a small step to move past them in the direction of the parked Jeep. Stiles and Amber both jumped, frantically moving to block his path again as the Sheriff narrowed his eyes at them reproachfully.

"This is the second crime scene the two of you just happen to have shown up on this week," He scolded them seriously. Amber shrunk back slightly and Stiles opened his mouth to say something but was cut off when his father continued, "At this point, I've been fed so many lies, I'm not sure I know the kids standing in front of me," He snapped, voice raising as he looked between them critically, "Now, what the hell is going on!"

There was a soft thump from inside the Jeep and they all looked over at the sound to find Scott waving with an innocent smile.

Stiles looked back to his father again with wide eyes, "W- Dad, I- I just-"

"The truth, Stiles." The Sheriff snapped harshly.

"The truth.. Alright," Stiles sighed, "The truth is-"

"We were here with Danny." Amber announced, the words falling from her lips as casually as she could manage.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed without a moment's hesitation, quick to add supporting evidence to her lie, "He just broke up with his boyfriend, so, y'know. We were just trying to take him out and get his mind off things. That- That's it."

Sheriff Stilinski looked between the two teens consideringly, studying them for hints of deception for a moment before his mouth pulled back into a small frown with a slow nod of his head.

"Well that's really good of you guys," The Sheriff sighed in contrition, "You're good friends."

There compliment put a grin on Stiles' face and he slapped a hand against his father's bicep before taking a small step back, pulling Amber back toward the Jeep with him.

"Hey," The Sheriff called out just as they'd started to turn away. The couple spun back around nervously and the man nodded his head at Amber, frowning as he eyed the amount of skin she had showing, "Put a sweatshirt or something on, will you? It's fifty degrees. You'll catch a cold."

Amber fought to hold in a sigh of relief, "Will do!"

With a shake of his head, he turned away from them, walking in the opposite direction of the Jeep as they climbed back inside. Stiles was turning the key in the ignition before he'd even pulled the door shut behind him and he was speeding out of the parking lot the moment the Jeep rumbled to life beneath them.

As if on cue, Jackson let out another quiet groan from the backseat and Amber made a soft noise of distress herself in response.

"What are we gonna do with him?" She asked, looking at Scott frantically.

"I don't know!" Scott worried, "Why do you always expect me to have the answers?"

"Maybe because you're the werewolf-" She defended.

"Okay, uh, what about your house?" Stiles suggested as a way of ending the argument before it could really start, nudging Amber with his shoulder.

"Jason is getting off a twenty-six hour shift-" She paused, pulling Stiles' wrist toward herself and pushing his sleeve up just enough to check the time on his watch, "-An hour ago. He's already home."

"Alright, what about Scott's house?" Stiles asked, looking across the car at the other boy in question.

"Not happening. My mom's there," Scott disapproved immediately, "We- We need to take him somewhere that we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him."

"Or long enough to convince him he's dangerous." Amber added, peeking over her shoulder to ensure that Jackson was still asleep.

"I still say we just kill him." Stiles admitted with a wince, tensing as he braced himself for the hit he already knew was coming from the girl beside him.

"Cut that out." She snapped as she delivered a punch to his bicep, "We're not killing anyone."

"Gah! F- Okay, okay!" Stiles surrendered, rubbing his arm with a pout for only a moment before his mouth dropped open with a slow blink. A thought had suddenly popped into his brain, his eyes flicking over the road unseeingly as he got lost in his own head.

"What?" Amber questioned immediately upon recognizing the look on his face.

"I got an idea." He announced, eyes still bouncing around distractedly in thought.

She studied her boyfriend with a frown, "Does it involve breaking the law?" She questioned weakly.

"By now don't you think that's a given?" Stiles responded without actually answering her.

Amber sighed, "Just trying to be optimistic." She muttered as she turned forward in her seat.

"Yeah, don't bother." Stiles told her, reaching over to squeeze her knee.

She and Scott shared a look of commiseration, twin frowns on their faces as Stiles sped toward their new destination.

Amber blew out a warm puff of air, directing the heat into her cupped palms before adjusting the large sleeves of Stiles' borrowed flannel over her cold hands. Her anxious gaze jumped between her two best friends as she shuffled her boots nervously in the dead leaves beneath their feet.

"Okay. So, Scott and I will leave in a few minutes and you'll stay here to keep an eye on Jackson," Amber began to recite their plan once more, her attention focused on Stiles as he leaned back against a tree and nodded in agreement, "I'll drive back out during free period to bring a change of clothes for you and something for you both to eat. You keep checking Jackson's cell phone in case anyone tries to get a hold of him. Um. Just, hang tight and one of us will call you if anything comes up." She promised anxiously.

"Babe, he's not even awake yet. I'll be fine," Stiles attempted to reassure her, "I mean, how hard is it to stand guard of an unconscious asshole handcuffed in the back of a prison transport van?"

As if on cue, Jackson began to yell from inside of the van parked a few yards away, signaling that he had finally awoken.

"Stiles! McCall! I'm gonna kill you!" His angry shouting was muffled slightly by the thick reinforced walls of the armored vehicle.

With a collective wince, the three leapt into action. Stiles took a small step forward and brought his lips to Amber's forehead in a quick goodbye before Scott was leading her through the trees in the direction of her house.

After fifteen minutes of silence, Amber finally voiced the question she'd been ruminating on throughout the hike, stepping carefully over a fallen branch as she spoke, "Y'think I should be offended or relieved that Jackson didn't even mention me?"

"Relieved, probably." Scott answered easily.

She nodded in response, sighing happily as she finally followed Scott's steps through the treeline and into her own backyard.

"Oh, thank god." She exclaimed in relief, "I feel disgusting. I want to-"

"You don't have time to shower." Scott interrupted knowingly, "We have enough time to grab your car and that's it."

"What?" She whined, looking down at her clothes from the day before and the oversized checkered shirt she had buttoned over the top, "But-"

"Don't you keep a change of clothes in your gym locker?" Scott questioned.

"No-?" She narrowed her eyes at her best friend, "Oh.. My god. You have a change of clothes at school? You're going to be able to change and I'm not?"

"Dude. We need to be on time for first period if we don't want anything to look suspicious," Scott reminded her, "And it's already-" He checked the time on his phone, "Shit. It's already seven forty-five!"

"Shit!" She reiterated, running with him toward the house where they grabbed her keys and climbed into the Pacer in a rush.

Her eyes flicked to the analog clock on the dash as she moved her feet over the pedals and shifted gears, speeding down the road toward town. They had thirteen minutes.

She whipped into a parking spot at the front of the building with two minutes to get to their first class, which was a miracle in itself considering she'd managed to turn the normally fifteen minute drive to the school into an eleven minute one.

They dashed through the building in what was nearly run and Amber found herself fumbling to put in the combination to her locker correctly so that she could pull out her things.

She'd gotten zero hours of sleep, not a single one of her homework assignments was completed, her boyfriend was babysitting a kidnapped kanima slash pain in the ass, her phone was down to forty-six percent battery, and based on the slew of texts she'd received over the last twelve hours — there was a pretty good chance that Lydia was going to kill her.

She could already tell that it was going to be a rough day.

The trilling of the phone on Mrs. Patterson's desk was startlingly loud when it rang out in the middle of their Algebra II lesson that afternoon and the teacher jumped in surprise, laughing at herself as she placed her marker down beneath the whiteboard and turned to pick up the receiver. Her eyes flicked to where Amber was sitting for a moment as she conversed with someone, giving verbal affirmation to the person on the other line with a small nod.

Amber's heart was pounding nervously in her chest as the older woman hung up the phone, nodding toward the girl and moving back over to the board at the front of the room.

"Amber, you're needed in the office, dear." Mrs. Patterson told her, "I'm not sure how long it'll be, so just take your things with you, just in case."

"I- Um, okay." She stuttered in surprise, gathering her books into her arms and leaving the room in an anxious blur of movements.

Her mind was racing with the possible reasons for being called down to the office. She thought of Stiles, alone in the preserve with Jackson, and she swallowed nervously as she stepped into the main office. The secretary's desk was deserted when she arrived and she looked around in confusion for only a moment before the door to the principal's office was swinging open behind her.

She flinched as she spun around, finding Gerard Argent smiling at her in what she figured he'd intended to look like faux kindness, but in reality only succeeded in making her feel more queasy.

"Miss Callisto," He greeted slowly, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to have a quick word with you in my office."

She swallowed. Her hands tightened around her books for a moment and the old man's eyes seemed to catalogue the movement, his grin pulling up on one side as he took in her visible nerves.

"No need to panic, you're not in trouble," He joked, "I just have a couple of questions for you."

She laughed shakily and fought to calm herself, forcing the three day old image of Scott, covered in his own blood from his encounter with the old man, out of her mind as she stepped toward Gerard.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, Principal Argent."

She dropped her books into the chair in the corner of his office and settled into the seat across from the large desk, watching with a small wave of relief as the old man rounded the wooden surface to settle into his own chair, the desk serving as a barrier between them.

"I hear you're going to be studying with my granddaughter this afternoon." Gerard prompted slowly, studying her with a grin that she found uncomfortably menacing.

"Um, yeah," Amber agreed immediately, licking her lips as she quickly tried to think of something to support the lie, "History," She supplied, "The midterm is next week, so.."

"History.." Gerard repeated, the slowness of his drawl made Amber nervous for half a second, worried that she'd said something wrong, but then he was nodding his head and continuing, "One of my favorites.. Especially military history."

"I, um, I don't know a lot about military history, to be honest," Amber told him, "We cover a lot of World War Two and the Civil War but, um, not much else. We don't really.. Delve into it."

"Hm," He hummed with a frown, "You ever hear the phrase, 'know thy enemy'?"

Her heart stuttered nervously, "Um, yeah, I think I've heard that before."

"It's from The Art Of War by Sun Tzu," Gerard explained slowly, "Do you know what it means?" He questioned, raising his eyebrows and deepening the wrinkles in his forehead.

"I, uh.. You have to really know your enemy to beat them," She answered cautiously, "Inside and out. All their nuances and weaknesses and such."

"That's right," He nodded, "I think it's safe to say, you and I both know I'm having that very problem.. An enemy about which I know next to nothing. And it's killed one of my own. Among others."

"Yeah, I've heard," She responded after a moment, "Um, I'm sorry for your loss."

The old man hummed noncommittally again, "Did you hear Jackson Whittemore didn't show up to school today?"

Amber blinked, "Um, no. I didn't hear that."

"His parents called and so did the police," Gerard revealed, watching her reaction closely, "Your friend Mr. Stilinski is absent today as well. Isn't that an interesting coincidence?"

"It is a coincidence," She agreed easily, "Stiles called me this morning to let me know he wasn't feeling well. He usually gives me a ride to school but today I had to drive myself."

"And Mr. Whittemore, you wouldn't know anything about his absence, would you?"

An innocent pout sat on her lips as she shook her head in denial.

"Well, let me tell you what I know," Gerard started slowly, "I know that a teenager's first instinct is to protect their friends-" He pushed up from his chair and began to move around the desk toward her, his steps agonizingly slow, "And I believe that you, Miss Callisto, would always want to protect your friends, even if it meant lying."

The old man came to stand at her back and rested his hands lightly over her shoulders atop her flannel as he continued on.

"-So, I want to ask one more question, and this time with a small advantage."

She glanced down at Gerard's large hands and her jaw clenched uncomfortably when the old man delicately pulled her hair back until it hung behind her shoulders. She let out a slow breath through her nose and the muscles in her thigh ticked with the impulse to run.

He squeezed her shoulders beneath his hands and she took her lower lip between her teeth painfully as she felt one of his hands slide to cup the base of her neck, the other pressing two fingers firmly against the side of her throat, and Scott's warnings suddenly rung in her head, his voice echoing in her ears.

"Be careful."

"Allison's grandfather is dangerous."

"If he corners you or Stiles, you run, alright? I can't have you getting hurt."

Amber moved to stand from her chair in a rush but was push to sit back down abruptly, wrinkled hands settling back on her shoulders with a firm grip.

"I'm not going to hurt you," The old man promised, his hands retaking in the mildly threatening position they'd been in only moments before, "I just want to get a sense of your pulse. Think of it as a game-"

Before she could think better of it, Amber was speaking breathlessly, "I'm not sure what kind of games they had back in your day, but nowadays-"

"It'll be a quick one," He promised with a low chuckle, "All you have to do is tell the truth."

She huffed out a frustrated breath but nodded in complacency, swallowing loudly against his fingers in preparation.

"Do you know anything about Jackson being missing?"

"No." She said easily, moving to stand from her seat only to be yanked back down again.

"Is he in trouble?" Gerard followed up immediately, the pads of his fingertips pressing back into the hollow of her throat.

"No," She repeated firmly, "And that's more than one question."

"Does this have anything to do with my granddaughter?"

"No." She snapped.

"Does it have anything to do with your friend Scott?"

Amber blinked, slightly caught off guard, "No."

There was a brief moment of silence in which Amber grew slightly more nervous and significantly more angry.

"Your pulse jumped." Gerard told her, his raspy voice much too close to her ear to be comfortable.

His hands were knocked away as threw herself up and out of the chair, "Because this is crazy!" She snapped, spinning around to face him with shaking hands, "It's inappropriate and ridiculous. I mean, what-"

"I'm sorry, dear," Gerard told her in feigned surprise, hands coming up in a show of surrender, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I'm not." She quickly denied, "I'm not frightened."

Gerard's eyebrows rose with clear condescension, as if he didn't believe her in the slightest, "No?"

"No." She reiterated, shaking out the sleeves of her borrowed shirt until they fell to cover her hands. She moved them behind her back in an attempt to hide the way her fingers had began to tremble.

"Well, good then," Gerard turned to open the door to his office, stepping aside in a gesture that she was free to leave, "You may go. Thank you, for humoring an old man." He chuckled.

She grabbed her books from the chair against the wall in a rush and made to leave. Just as she was about to step over the threshold, Gerard stuck an arm out in front of her with an eerie smile etched onto his face.

"Ah. Just one more thing, Miss Callisto," He said when she paused abruptly behind his blockade, "Might I suggest you try to stay out of trouble.. A pretty young lady such as yourself really should really keep her focus on-" His eyes narrowed as he paused to choose his words carefully, "Less dangerous affairs."

Her lips pulled into a tight line but she gave him a small nod, taking a tentative step forward and barely holding back a sigh of relief when Gerard dropped his arm and allowed her to pass.

The moment she was out of the main office, she was rushing down the hallway toward her locker with quick steps, throwing her books inside and pulling her phone from her pocket with still-trembling fingers. She clicked on Stiles' contact and brought the phone up to her ear but instead being greeted by the familiar dull ringing, it went immediately through to his voicemail box.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," She hissed, clicking his contact a second time and bringing the phone up to her ear once again, "C'mon, Sti-"

"Yo, it's Stiles! Leave me a mes-"

She swore again and shoved her phone back into her pocket, looking at the clock hanging in the hallway in contemplation for a few seconds before slamming her locker shut with a curse and taking off in the direction of the rear parking lot.

Once she reached the treeline, she paused for a moment and took a steadying breath. The fastest way into the preserve was through the woods in front of her. If she ran, she could most likely make it to where they'd parked the transport van in less than five minutes — As long as she didn't take a wrong turn somewhere and get lost along the way.

Easy.

She took off in a sprint, racing through the trees and pushing her legs as fast as they could go while trying not to trip over the numerous rocks and tree roots that jutted up from the uneven ground. The incline was brutal and her boots weren't ideal for running but as she finally came up the final stretch of the hill, she spotted the bright white of the van in the distance. The brown lettering on the side of the vehicle contrasted starkly against the clean paint and she found herself pushing her legs that much harder.

Stiles had taken up post on the ground, back resting against the trunk of a tree as he used one of the many keys on his keychain to carve mindlessly at the large stick in his hands in boredom. His head snapped up suddenly at the sound of her running footsteps and he abandoned his stick to scramble to his feet clumsily.

"Hey, what-" He caught Amber by her arms when her feet skidded in the leaves in front of him in an attempt to come to a sudden stop, looking at her with surprised eyes as she panted heavily, "Woah. What's wrong? What happened?"

"Didn't- Didn't answer- Your phone." She scolded between deep lungfuls of air.

"It-It died like an hour ago-" Stiles told her apologetically, "Why what's wrong?"

"They.. Know." She gasped between breaths, steadying herself with her hands on his chest.

"Who knows what?" Stiles asked, pushing a slightly sweaty lock of her wild hair out of her face and securing it behind her ear.

"They know. Know Jackson's missing-" She explained as she tried to catch her breath.

"What?" Stiles said in confusion, "No, they can't. I've been texting his parents since last night. They don't have a clue."

He pulled Jackson's phone from the pocket of his sweatshirt to show her the series of messages he'd sent to Jackson's father as evidence. Amber grabbed his hands to steady the screen as her eyes skimmed the texts.

"No," She shook her head with wide eyes, "Allison's grandfather just pulled me from class to ask me all these questions, alright? It was practically an interrogation. And he- He said that Jackson's parents went to the police-"

Her words seemed to finally get through to him and Stiles' eyes widened, holding Jackson's phone loosely in his fingers as if the device were carrying some contagious disease.

"-They know." She finished.

Stiles made a noise of distress and pawned off the cell phone as he ran to the front of the stolen van, wrenching the passenger side door open and reaching over to click the dispatch radio on.

"All units, please proceed to Beacon Hills Preserve as instructed. Proceed with caution until Sheriff Stilinski's arrival. Repeat: Proceed with caution."

Another panicked squeak left Stiles' throat and Amber was already looking at him with wide eyes when he spun around to face her.

"What do we do?" She asked in a rush.

"We get far, far away from here-" Stiles told her, already rounding the vehicle and climbing behind the wheel.

She jumped into the passenger seat and her wide eyes fell to the phone in her hands, "What about his phone?"

Stiles blinked and froze where he had already begun to shift the vehicle into drive, as if he'd forgotten about the device already. He took it from her limp grip and tapped at the screen rapidly, clicking the contact labeled "Mom" before wiping the phone down with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and throwing it out the window just as it began to ring through.

"Okay.. Okay, and where are we going?" Amber questioned as the tires of the vehicle crunched along the forest floor.

"No idea." Stiles told her honestly.

"They were tracking his phone, right?" She questioned, "That's how they know where he is?"

"Yup."

"Okay," She licked her lips, face scrunching up in thought, "Okay, let's go to the lookout."

Stiles flicked his eyes over to her briefly in confusion as he drove the large van through a narrow patch of trees.

"-It's at the opposite end of the preserve," She explained immediately, "They won't have manpower to spread their search that far out from his phone's location. Not for hours-"

"You make a really hot criminal, y'know that?" His gaze momentarily drifted back over to her again, "You're freakishly good at it."

"I'm not so sure my skills at being a criminal are something I'm necessarily proud of." She noted with a wince.

"A hot criminal." Stiles corrected immediately.

She reached across the car to rub her thumb softly along the side of his neck, shaking her head fondly as she watched him smoothly maneuver the rough terrain through the preserve.

"Yeah, whatever. Just get us outta here, Clyde."

Later that afternoon, the nightclub victims from the previous evening – all of whom were blessedly alive – were only just beginning to be discharged from Beacon Hills Hospital after being subjected to a whole slew of tests and blood work as doctors and police struggled to figure out exactly what had happened.

Amber and Scott had finally managed to locate Danny's hospital room just as the boy was starting to collect his things and readying himself to head home.

"You're sure everything's okay between you and Jackson?" Amber questioned Danny disbelievingly once more.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Danny repeated, looking between her and Scott in confusion for a moment before rifling through his wallet with a frown, "Did the cops have to take my fake ID?" He bemoaned with a dejected sigh.

"You didn't do anything to make him angry?" Scott was quick to follow up.

Danny furrowed his brows, "How angry?"

"On a scale of one to ten, one being kind of irritated and ten wanting to kill you.. Violently." Scott elaborated.

Danny merely shrugged, "Jackson's always kind of at a four-"

Amber snorted.

"-But we're good." He promised, "I was actually doing him a favor."

At this, Amber's posture straightened and she uncrossed her arms from over her chest as she perked up in interest, "What kind of favor?"

"I was recovering a video for him. I put it on my tablet," He explained before pausing in realization, "-Which is in the trunk of my car.. And probably still at the club.."

"What was on the video?" Scott asked before Amber could voice the very same question.

Danny frowned, "I'm not really supposed to say."

"Danny, c'mon, this is important." Amber insisted.

He continued to frown and Scott sighed, "What if we told you this could be a matter of life and death?" Scott tried.

"..I'm not supposed to say." Danny repeated slowly.

Amber scrunched her nose up in irritation and tapped her foot against the floor distractedly, "What if I told you we can get you your fake ID back?"

Danny blinked, hesitating and clearly on the cusp of caving in.

"C'mon, Danny.. Good fakes don't come cheap-" She goaded gently.

He sighed, eyes flicking between them with a put out look upon his face, "Alright, fine. It was just some video he took of himself in bed, okay? I promised I wouldn't watch it and I didn't. Whether he was sleeping, jerking off, whatever, I don't know. I just know he filmed it a couple weeks ago-"

"A couple weeks ago, like, maybe say.. Fifteen days ago, a couple weeks ago?" Amber pressed quickly, wide eyes flicking to Scott for a moment before refocusing on Danny.

The boy shrugged, "Yeah, I guess, sometime around then. He borrowed a video camera from Matt and like two hours of the footage got mysteriously erased."

"But you recovered the footage?" Scott questioned.

"Yeah. Like I said, it's on my tablet," Danny told them, sounding slightly exasperated, "You guys better have been serious about getting my ID back because Jackson's gonna kill me if he finds out I told you anything."

Amber winced at his choice of words but nodded nonetheless, "Yeah, totally. We'll get it, I swear."

"But we should get going-" Scott added quickly, pulling Amber's arm and tugging her in the direction of the doorway.

"Thanks, Danny!" She called out over her shoulder.

The two moved down the hallway in the direction of the exit with fast steps, but were forced to stop short at the sight of Scott's mom, the woman blocking their path with raised hands.

"While I think you being here to check on your friend is all sorts of commendable, I've gotta play tough mom right now, even though I'm not very good at it." Ms. McCall said weakly, eyes focused on her son.

Scott looked as if he wanted to argue, eyes drifting to Amber in silent plea before focusing on his mother once again, "Right now?" He asked, not quite able to keep the desperation from creeping into his voice.

"Yes, right now," Scott's mom said firmly, "I just got a call from your principal. You are failing two classes?"

Amber's eyes widened at the information but she attempted to school her face into something slightly less surprised by the time Ms. McCall's gaze drifted over to her.

"I- I know," Scott flicked his eyes over to his friend again as he continued, "And that's why I'm going to study with Amber and Stiles. Right now." He fibbed.

"You are?" Ms. McCall asked skeptically, looking between the two teens.

Amber was already nodding in agreement, leaning her weight onto Scott's shoulder, "Oh, for sure. Stiles and I are gonna get him all studied up. Really pack this brain with knowledge-" She emphasized her words by rapping her knuckles against Scott's head firmly.

Ms. McCall pursed her lips as if she was deciding whether or not to believe the teens before speaking to her son again, "Did you know that if you fail one of your midterms, that they're gonna hold you back?" She asked quietly.

Scott deflated further, "He said that?"

"Argent." Amber grumbled under her breath in distaste.

"All of your friends are gonna be Juniors while you're still a Sophomore," Ms. McCall explained slowly, "Do you understand, Scott? You cannot fail."

"I know." Scott sighed again.

"Okay," His mom slumped in relief at the conversation finally coming to an end, "Thank you."

Amber took Scott's hand in hers gave it a reassuring squeeze as they stepped past his mother and continued in their escape once again.

"We seriously will help you study," Amber promised, "This weekend. All weekend. You're not gonna fail."

He gave her a dejected nod in response, "Thanks," He dropped her hand as they stepped out into the parking lot, "Now, let's go see what's on that video."

"If Jackson doesn't remember being the kanima then he's definitely not gonna remember stealing Danny's tablet." Scott grumbled, rubbing a hand through his hair in frustration as they explained their findings, or lack thereof, in Danny's car to Stiles and Allison.

"Why would he steal the thing if he doesn't even know what's on it?" Stiles questioned in disbelief as they stepped further away from the van and closer to the rocky cliffside of the lookout.

"Maybe he didn't take it," Amber suggested, "I mean, the trunk of Danny's car was definitely broken into, but it looked like someone messed with it, y'know? With tools. Not like it had been torn open with super strength."

Stiles regarded her seriously as he thought over her words, "Then someone else knows what he is." He pointed out.

"That could mean someone is protecting him." Scott realized, looking between them with wide eyes.

"It's like the bestiary says. 'The kanima seeks a friend.' Right?" Allison questioned.

"Okay, hold on-" Stiles cut in, rubbing his palms aggressively over his short hair as he processed the discovery, "So somebody watched Jackson make a video of himself turning into the kanima on the full moon, and then just erases part of it so he wouldn't know-? I mean, who would do that?"

"Somebody who wanted to protect him?" Allison questioned.

"There's something else-" Scott interjected, turning his attention to Stiles, "You said the only thing you found online about the kanima is that it goes after murderers.. What if that's actually true?"

"Well, no, it can't be. It tried to kill all of us, remember?" Stiles shook his head before making a show of taking his girlfriend's hand in his, "Tried to kill me and Amber twice. I don't know about you two but we haven't murdered anybody lately."

"But- But I don't think it was actually trying to kill us," Scott disagreed, turning toward Allison, "Remember, when we were at Isaac's the first time? It just went right by us, didn't it?"

Allison blinked in realization with a small nod, "You're right.. It just ran off."

"-And it didn't try to kill you guys at the mechanic's garage." Scott pointed out.

"No, I- I guess not." Amber frowned in thought.

"Well, yeah, but it tried to kill us and Derek in the pool." Stiles reminded them.

"Did it, though?" Scott questioned, looking between them.

"It would've," Stiles defended immediately, fingers tightening unconsciously around Amber's hand, "It was waiting for us to come out."

"..What if it was trying to keep you in?" Scott asked slowly.

The suggestion drove Amber's wide-eyed gaze to her boyfriend and she watched his jaw drop in disbelief, no sound leaving his mouth for a few slow seconds as he processed.

"Why do I feel so violated all of a sudden?" Stiles shook out his limbs in a full-body shiver, keeping his fingers tangled with Amber's but bringing his arm over her head and wrapping it around her shoulders to draw her closer.

"I- I almost drowned," Amber pointed out, "Twice."

"There's something else going on," Scott told them, "We don't know what it is. We don't know anything about what's going on with Jackson. Or why someone's protecting him-"

"'Know thy enemy.'" Amber quoted quietly, eyebrows drawing together in thought.

"My grandfather said that today." Allison told her.

Amber nodded, "Yeah.. Yeah, he said it to me too."

The four of them got lost in their own heads as each one of them tried to piece things together, a brief silence overtaking the group before Stiles spoke loudly.

"Alright! I've got it!" He exclaimed, "Let's kill Jackson. Problem solved-"

Amber reached her free hand up to pinch the softness of his stomach between her thumb and forefinger, glaring as he winced in pain.

"What did I say about suggesting we kill people?" She whispered seriously.

Stiles rolled his shoulders with a sigh, "To cut it out.. And that we're not gonna do that-"

"He risked his life for us," Scott interrupted, "Against Peter. You remember that?"

"Yes. But what did we just find out?" Stiles asked in irritation, "He got the bite from Derek. It's funny.. How he just got exactly what he wanted by supposedly risking his life for us-" He said, pointing out how utterly ridiculous the sequence of events was, "It's funny!"

"That doesn't mean he deserves to die." Amber told Stiles softly, resting her hand over the spot on his belly she'd just abused below his navel.

"Yeah, it doesn't mean he's not worth saving." Scott added seriously.

Stiles frowned as his gaze flicked between them, "It's always something with him though-"

"He doesn't know what he's doing." Scott defended.

"So what?" Stiles argued immediately.

"So, I didn't either!" Scott bit back.

Stiles frowned, deflating at the truth in his friend's words. A sigh fell from Amber's lips at the reminder of just how little control Scott had only a month before.

"You remember when I almost killed you and Jackson?" Scott asked Allison, turning back to his friends when his girlfriend nodded silently, "Remember when I tried to kill both of you?"

"Yeah, of course we do, Scott." Amber said quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper.

"I had you guys to help me," Scott pointed out, "He has nobody."

"That's his own fault." Stiles was quick to point out.

Amber thumped her head onto her boyfriend's shoulder at the lack of headway they were making with the conversation, pulling at his shirt to get his attention as she spoke softly.

"Look, Jackson's a dick," She agreed with Stiles quietly, "I know that as much as anyone.. But, it doesn't mean we shouldn't still try to help him."

Scott nodded, "If we can save him, we should try."

Stiles huffed, unhappy with his best friends ganging up on him, but eventually rolled his eyes with a shrug, "Yeah, alright. Whatever." He muttered, licking his lips and looking between them, "But if this comes back to bite us in the ass, I reserve the right to tell you both that I frickin' told you so."

"Deal." Amber and Scott both agreed with a shake of their heads.

Amber pushed through her front door in a wave of exhaustion. The only thing she wanted to do was take a shower and get some much-needed sleep, but Lydia was already waiting for her upstairs for what was supposed to be their study date, so she plastered a smile on her face.

"I come bearing flowers!" Amber announced hopefully as she stepped into her bedroom, "-For my amazing, beautiful, intelligent friend who's stuck by my side since we were in diapers.. And who I really hope isn't still furious with me for being weird, and cagey, and totally blowing her off-"

"You're like a lying, groveling, suburban husband," Lydia pointed out, not moving from her place in the middle of the bed, "Trying to beg forgiveness with flowers and apologies that I'm assuming will contain some sort of half-assed excuse that won't actually explain anything."

Amber deflated slightly at the truth in her friend's words.

"Does, um.. Does that mean you don't want the flowers?" She questioned dejectedly, stepping up to the side of the bed.

Lydia glared, "Of course I want the flowers. Don't be stupid," She scoffed, taking the bundle from Amber's hand and studying at them curiously, "Funny.. This is the second time someone's given me flowers in the last twenty-four hours." She commented quietly.

Immediately intrigued, Amber plopped down onto her bed beside the redhead, "Who else gave you flowers?"

Lydia shrugged, "It was just one flower. And I don't know his name."

"Was he cute?" Amber questioned in interest.

The flowers were set down gently onto the bedspread and Lydia narrowed her eyes, "Don't think you're going to be able to just change the subject. Amber.. What the hell is going on?" She demanded sharply.

"I, uh-" Amber swallowed nervously. She'd rehearsed about ten different excuses on her way home, but they'd all suddenly vanished from her brain as she sat in front of her friend, "It's-"

"Can you tell me what happened the other night?" Lydia prompted, continuing her list of questions without pause, "Why Derek Hale was there? Why it seems as if everyone around me is hiding something? How you got that golf ball sized bump on the side of your head?"

Amber found herself slightly stunned by the barrage of questions and she blinked as her fingers came up unthinkingly to the lump on her head — The swelling in the place where Erica had knocked her unconscious had finally gone down, but had been replaced by another bump just a few inches closer to her temple, where Isaac had unkindly bashed her head against the wall during their scuffle the previous evening.

"Hello?" Lydia demanded, snapping her fingers in her friend's face impatiently, "Anything?"

"I, um, I hit my head." She supplied stupidly.

Lydia's face flashed with genuine hurt at the singular, dismissive answer and Amber's heart ached as the redhead frowned at her, "And the rest?" She questioned weakly.

"I- It's not really my place to say anything. It's not.. They're not really my secrets to share." Amber said in a quiet voice.

"You can't even tell me why you and Allison both keep blowing me off?" Lydia asked, "I mean, even tonight! We plan to study and you text me to say you can talk for a few minutes but then you have to run? What is so important that-"

"Look, Lydia, I'm sorry. I really, really am. And I wish I could explain. But I can't. And-" Amber huffed, heart ticking up anxiously in her chest as she eyed her laptop on the desk, "And on top of everything I need to figure out how to translate five pages of a dead language that I didn't even know existed until-"

"What language?" Lydia questioned with a sigh, realizing she wasn't going to get the answers she seeked.

"Fucking Archaic Latin! It's ridicul-"

"I know Archaic Latin." Lydia interrupted casually.

Amber blinked in surprise, stumbling from the bed in her haste to grab her computer and bring it back over to Lydia, "You- You know Archaic Latin?" She repeated frantically, "How- What-"

Lydia shrugged, peering at the computer screen curiously as Amber clicked wildly at the trackpad to pull up the bestiary file, "I got bored with classical Latin." She explained simply.

"Can you- Will you read this for me?" Amber asked quickly, turning the screen around to show her the pages with the kanima illustrations.

Lydia hummed as her eyes scanned the page, "Mmm.. Kanima. A weapon of vengeance.. Is used to carry out the bidding of its master-"

"Wait-" Amber stopped her already, "Repeat that?"

Lydia rolled her eyes and traced her finger along the gibberish on the screen, "Kanima is a weapon of vengeance used to carry out the bidding of its master.'" She paraphrased again.

"Master?" Amber repeated carefully, "You're sure it's master? Because.. Mrs. Morrell's translation was a little rough but I'm pretty sure she said, that word specifically, meant friend."

Lydia shook her head, "She was wrong. It means master."

Amber's mind was racing at the implication. This changed absolutely everything-

"Is that important?" Lydia questioned curiously, wide green eyes attempting to understand Amber's reaction.

"I- Yeah, it is. It really-" Amber slammed her laptop shut and tripped over her own feet as she scrambled from the bed and in the direction of the doorway, "It's really important. Lyds, I- I am so beyond sorry and I love you, and you're amazing, and a freaking genius, but-"

"But you have to run?" Lydia finished disappointedly.

"Yes-" Amber confirmed, rushing back over to the bed and pressing a kiss into Lydia's perfect hair before hurrying back toward the door, arms flailing as she ran around the doorway, "I'm sorry! I swear I will make it up to you!"

"You'd better!" Lydia's voice called out.

Tripping over her own feet, Amber stumbled down the hall, movements clumsy with her haste to get back to Scott and Stiles to tell them what she'd learned.

Someone was controlling Jackson.

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