#why did i pick the morning time slot why

[thetriangletattoo]

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[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part one)

natasha romanoff x fem reader (high school au)

You’ve been in love with your best friend’s sister ever since you first met her (who wouldn’t be?), and you were content to take these feelings to the grave. But when she begins to reciprocate, things get complicated, and you find yourself lying to almost everyone you know — including yourself.

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one (5k words) | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

You’ll never forget the fateful day that you laid eyes upon Natasha Romanoff for the first time. Even at the ripe age of seven, you knew you wanted her in your life forever.

Melina Vostokoff and Alexi Shostakov are your neighbours — they live right across the street, and they have done for as long as you can remember. On your fifth birthday, they came home from a trip to Russia with a daughter, Yelena. From the moment you laid eyes on one another, the two of you knew you were best friends. Neither sets of parents had any qualms on that (“oho, here comes trouble,” Alexi would say teasingly whenever the two of you came tearing into the room), and so even before Natasha’s arrival you spent more of your waking hours in their household than in your own.

One time, two years since Yelena entered your life and only a few weeks before Natasha’s arrival, you were playing in the sandy dirt down the back of Yelena’s house, and huffing in annoyance as it proved too fine to hold up as a sandcastle. You looked over at your best friend who was currently experiencing much more success in her own task, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she carefully stacked twigs to build a bug hotel, and without even thinking you asked, “why did you pick me? To be your friend?”

Yelena blinked, surprised, but placed a leaf on top of her miniature structure to serve as a roof before responding. “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeell,” you narrowed your eyes in thought, trying to figure out what it was that you meant, “we’ve just always been friends. And I like it, but I was like, why?”

She was quiet for a good few moments, and if you didn’t know the girl any better then you would have missed the slight cleft between her brows that means she’s formulating her next words, and you would’ve thought she was ignoring you. But you did know better, because she was your best friend, and that thought filled your tiny frame with joy.

“Sometimes when you meet people, it’s special,” she said eventually. “Like a puzzle, you know when they fit together? Like — like that,” she mimed two things slotting together with her fingers, and you nodded. “It happened for us, I think. It happened when my mom and dad met, they tell me all the time that dad loved mom from the moment he met her,” she wrinkled her nose, and you giggled. “And it happened for me and my sister in Russia.”

With that last statement, she’d caught your interest. Often in passing she’d mention her sister from the orphanage in Russia, where she’d been before Melina and Alexi had sorted out her visa to bring her back to their home in Ohio. You never quite knew how to respond to it, and she never elaborated beyond throwaway comments such as these, so you were fairly certain that this sister wasn’t even real until the day she was brought home.

And what a day that was; one that turned your life upside down forever. As far as you knew, when you first woke up, it was a day like any other. Another sunny morning of summer vacation. You woke up as bright and early as children annoyingly do and rushed to get ready to spend another day at Yelena’s house, no doubt irritating the shit out of her parents (who, to their credit, were very tolerant of you and Yelena’s seven-year-old antics). But once you’d knocked and stood fidgeting eagerly on their front porch, it wasn’t Yelena, or her parents, who opened the door.

No, it was an unfamiliar girl you were faced with — only one year older as you were soon to learn, but already an entire head taller than you. She looked down at you, face stony, and you stared back in confusion. There was no way this was the wrong house, you’d been coming here every day for the last two years, and you saw it every time you looked out of your bedroom window. So what was going on?

You found yourself remembering a Slavic children’s story Alexi had told you and Yelena last winter, late at night when you were curled up by the fire together drinking hot chocolate, about an old lady who had a house with chicken legs. The Baba Yaga, Alexi had called her. During the night her house would stand up and run away, and be gone from its previous spot the next morning; you found yourself wondering if this had happened to Yelena’s house too. Could any house have legs, or just the Baba Yaga’s house? You’d have to ask Alexi — once you tracked down his runaway house, of course.

“Y/N,” a voice squealed from behind the unfamiliar girl, and Yelena’s face poked out from behind her. “Y/N this is my sister! From Russia, her name is Natasha.”

“You are Yelena’s best friend?” Natasha asked softly, a gentle Russian lilt to her words. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And just like Yelena had described to you, you looked up at Natasha and something just clicked. Something aligned; a puzzle piece you hadn’t even known you were missing slotted into place.

You knew even then that you wanted to be around her forever.

It’s been ten years now, since that day, and you’ve grown up alongside the two of them. You’re an only child with distant parents, and Alexi and Melina have taken you under your wing — so much in fact that Yelena’s room is referred to affectionately as the twins’ room, and you have your own bed in there. More of your stuff is at their house rather than your own these days.

But Natasha has always been just out of reach. Since the day you first met her there’s been this pit in your stomach whenever she’s been around, strange and foreign and somewhat scary to you, that has you reduced to a silent mess with trembling fingers whenever she’s around. It’s a feeling you’ve not always understood, but in more recent years you’ve come to accept you’re in love with her; something you will take to the grave.

You don’t stand a chance with her, of course. You’re her little sister’s best friend, a whole year younger than her, and where she’s popular in school you tend to stick to the shadows. You’re not really picked on, per se — no one dares to when Yelena Belova, who’s terrifying in her own right as well as the little sister of Natasha Romanoff, is constantly glued to your side — but you just don’t have the same social standing that Natasha does. Even if by some miracle you did, she’s your best friend’s sister. You know she’ll never see you that way.

So you’ve decided to yourself you’re going to keep these feelings under lock and key, and pray they’ll go away.

And it’s been going pretty good!… well, that is, until tonight.

Alexi and Melina have flown back to Russia for the New Year, leaving the household in the hands of you, Yelena and Natasha. You and Yelena were perfectly content with spending your days of freedom ordering takeout, bingeing awful reality TV shows and annoying the cat for hours on end, but Natasha was having none of that. The Starks can’t hold their New Year thrasher at their house like normal this year (something about a sick aunt on bedrest? You weren’t really listening, to be honest), so with her parents out of town, Natasha’s offered up her house.

“I don’t want a bunch of gross sweaty drunk people in our house,” Yelena had protested when it was proposed to her, nose wrinkling. “это отвратительно. No.”

“Aw come on, please,” Natasha groaned. “It’s just one night.”

“But it’s not just one night, because we will be cleaning up for days after,” retorted Yelena. “Last time there was vomit everywhere. That was a zero out of ten experience.”

Natasha snorted. “What are you, TripAdvisor?” Dodging Yelena’s half-hearted smack, she’d added, “See, why can’t you be like Y/N? They don’t mind. Right, Y/N?”

Sure, she’d probably played you, but with those eyes who could say no to her?

Well, evidently not you. And because of it, you and Yelena are stuck spending New Year’s Eve locked in her (your) bedroom, her TV on at max volume to even be vaguely heard over the music that shakes the bed with every beat.

“О мой Бог, it’s not even midnight,” Yelena whines, checking her clock for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. “We are going to be dealing with this for hours. Natalia owes us one.”

“She’ll feel guilty tomorrow and take us to a drive-thru,” you tell her, and she sticks her tongue out at you instead of admitting that you’re right.

She opens her mouth to say something else (something witty and uncalled for, you’re sure), but she’s cut off by an abysmally loud crash and scream from downstairs, followed by even louder cheering. The look that crosses her face next just makes you very glad you’re not on the receiving end of her anger tonight.

“Liho,” you remember suddenly, “where is he? Did we pick him up before the party started?”

She pauses. “Oh, shit.”

“He’s still down there?” you panic. “Fuck, Lena, you know how much he hates noise. I’m gonna go get him.”

“No, let me,” Yelena protests, but you wave her off.

“No, because you’ll come back with a kill list twice as long as it is now,” you retort and she scrunches up her face at you, because as always with her you’ve hit the nail on the head. You blow her a kiss before closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you’re hit by the overwhelming stench of sweat and alcohol. Okay, ew. You’d practically begged Natasha to dilute the jet fuel that the Russians call vodka before distributing it, but evidently she’s not taken your pleas into account tonight. (You’re all going to pay for it tomorrow morning come clean-up time.)

At least the universe isn’t totally against you right now, though — the household’s cat, Liho, has one place he will flee to without fail whenever he’s scared; the tiny gap between the washing machine and the wall, in the laundry room. With any luck, you can sneak in and out of there through Melina’s office without encountering too many partygoers.

Getting down the stairs proves a task in itself; they are absolutely soaking for some reason, something must have been spilled on them, so thank god they’re hardwood and not carpeted. It’s like a slip and slide on your way down, and you cling onto the banister for dear life, your task only made more difficult by the tens of other people who have no regard whatsoever for your Mission Impossible-level task currently at hand.

Miraculously, you somehow make it to the bottom of the stairs unscathed, and immediately wince as you straighten back up. The noise down here is even louder, the smell even stronger, and you want nothing more than to flee back upstairs and cower under the bedsheets with Yelena until everyone finally fucks off home. But you remind yourself that if this is the way you feel, tiny flighty Liho probably feels even worse, and as his self-appointed cat mother (which you have been ever since you and Yelena rescued him from the roadside and brought him home), it’s your duty to rescue him.

So you battle your way on through to the laundry room, which thank the lord is empty. You close the heavy wooden door behind you with relief, and lean back against it for a moment, panting to recollect yourself. Jesus fuck, do you hate parties. You’re not even trying to be difficult, it’s just something you’ll never understand — they’re so overstimulating, so overwhelming. You always leave them with such a depleted social battery that you won’t be seen again for the next week. How someone can enjoy these things, you’ll never fathom.

You’re distracted from your inner monologue by the sound of gentle scrabbling, coming from behind the washing machine. An involuntary smile spreads over your face as you instantly clock what that noise is, and you approach slowly, dropping to a crouch.

“Hey buddy,” you say softly to the black fur vaguely visible among the shadows. Its gentle movements freeze, and the scrabbling noise stops. “This sucks, doesn’t it? All alone down here.”

He blinks at you.

”Yeah, it does, huh?” you continue. “What do you say we get outta here? You can come upstairs with me and Lena. How’d you feel about that, bud, huh? It’ll be much nicer, I promise. It’s so lonely down here, isn’t it?”

Convinced, the kitten wriggles out of his hiding spot and trots into your waiting arms. You scoop him up, planting kisses on his head and giggling.

“Good boy. Sweet boy. We got snacks in our room. You just love Twizzlers, don’t you?”

“He does love Twizzlers,” says a raspy voice from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of both you and Liho. He yelps in alarm, and alarm at your alarm, digging his claws into your shoulder in a way that makes you hiss out loud. You spin around to see none other than Natasha behind you (she must have been in here before you closed the door, you vaguely piece together in your state of gay panic), red beer pong cup in hand, looking fucking beautiful.

You’ve avoided her as much as you can today while she’s gotten ready for tonight, reasoning with yourself that you’re only torturing yourself if you keep admiring her from afar, but holy fuck you can’t believe you were depriving yourself of this. A pale pink, almost nude dress, with silver blossoms settled comfortably on her hips in the way that your hands itch to be, and eyeliner that could fucking cut someone. But she’s smiling at you so softly that even the knife-sharp eyeliner smiles with her, and even though she just gave you the fright of your life you’re almost shaking with the restraint it takes to not go absolutely feral. She looks so good.

Oh lord, you are hopeless.

“You and him are just as bad as each other,” she comments, still smiling, so you know she doesn’t really mean it. Desperately scrabbling to cover for your internal screaming, you fake a pout, dropping a kiss on Liho’s head (he rubs his forehead gratefully against your cheek in return).

“That’s so mean,” you grumble.

“You look really pretty tonight,” she tells you, and your heart actually stops at the compliment. It feels like a trick for a moment, that she’d say something like that, but she’s still smiling a smile that makes your insides go all woozy.

“I really don’t think,” you begin, looking down at your outfit, but then pause. What with the top secret CIA-level mission that retrieving Liho has become, you’ve almost forgotten that before all of this you and Yelena had been playing dress up — strictly within the confines of your bedroom, of course, but you’re wearing one of Mama Melina’s old college dresses and it doesn’t look half bad on you, even though it now probably has Liho hairs all over it. You vaguely recall Yelena begging you to let her do your makeup (“pleeeease, Y/N, I swear I’ll be serious this time no more penises I promise”) too, so maybe it’s not such a reach that Nat actually thinks you look pretty tonight. “Oh. Thank you. S- so do you, I —” You forcibly stop yourself there, for fear of real embarrassment.

Her lips twitch in amusement at your antics. “Thanks.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence, and you figure you’d best take your leave before you inevitably embarrass yourself in front of the love of your life. You step toward the door which she’s still stood in front of, mumbling something unintelligible, but Natasha remains firm and simply raises an eyebrow at you as she sips from her solo cup. Literally everything she does is so insanely attractive that you have to bury your face in Liho’s fur for a moment and inhale in order to ground yourself properly. How can one person be so lovely? It’s just not fair.

“I should go back upstairs, Liho doesn’t like the noise,” you tell Natasha.

“You know, it’s nearly midnight,” is all she replies. “They’re about to start the countdown.”

You nod, tight-lipped. Even when it’s muffled through the thick wood of the laundry room the noise is starting to get to you now, and Liho won’t sit still in your arms either, and you want to get back upstairs to the warm safety of your bed and Yelena’s company and the shit Kardashians show you were watching, away from the girl who it’s as torturous as it is wonderful to be around.

“It’s a romantic thing for a lot of people,” she continues, and you have to look away at that. It’s almost as though she, or the universe is dangling the fact that she’ll never be interested in you in front of your face tantalisingly — like a carrot on a stick. “To kiss the one you love when the clock hits midnight, and the New Year rolls in. You got anyone to kiss this year?”

Okay, wow. Ouch.

“Liho,” you reply with as much humour as you can muster. “He is my one true love. Aren’t you, bud,” you add a few octaves higher, and he perks up, recognising that voice that’s for him. When you look back up at Natasha she’s studying you with amusement in her eyes, as though she knows something you don’t. You can hear the chanting beginning outside of the laundry room now, preparing to ring in the New Year; twenty… nineteen…

Still, though, Natasha makes no move to let you leave.

“Do you have anyone to kiss at midnight?” you ask her pointedly. “Cause you should probably get back to them.”

She downs the rest of the contents of her solo cup in one before slamming it down on the counter beside her. “Don’t need to,” comes her gruff reply, “they’re right here.”

Your jaw actually fucking drops at that statement, and your brain shortcircuits. What? Even though your heart skips a hopeful beat, you shake your head quickly to clear it of the idea that she could reciprocate these crushing feelings you harbour for her. Instead, you hold Liho out to her, hands under his armpits so that his hind legs dangle below him and he stretches to look comically long — as though you’re giving him to her like a present (which he sends you a very unimpressed for). “O— oh,” you stutter, “well if he’s your midnight kiss, is that why you were in here? I don’t want to —” twelve, eleven…

She actually laughs out loud at that, and bats Liho away. “Not him, дурачок. You.”

Her hands are cupping at the side of your face, and despite the absolute bizarre circumstances you find yourself leaning into her touch, desperate to memorise the feel of her warm calloused fingertips against your skin — seven, six; she looks down at you, the blue-green outlining her wide dark pupils framing a silent question. You’re in absolute slack-jawed disbelief, this has got to be a prank, it’s got to be — four, three — but she holds your gaze with a kind of certainty that surely can’t be summoned to fool someone. You nod a trembling, single nod, and her lips press against yours just as the clock strikes midnight.

Her lips are so soft, so gentle against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut; you can’t help it. She feels like heaven. She’s tentative at first, but when she can feel you reciprocating, her hands begin to explore a little; one moving to tangle itself in your hair, the other to your back and pulling you in closer to her. One of your arms is busy still cradling Liho close to your chest, but the other is free to trace along Natasha’s skin wonderingly as she continues her ministrations. Her leg slides between yours, forcing you backwards against the wall, where her kisses trail down your jaw for a moment before creeping back up toward your lips and returning to kissing them instead. When she nips gently at your bottom lip, you let out a noise you’ve never heard yourself make before, a kind of high-pitched whine in the back of your throat that makes Natasha laugh quietly as she pulls away for air. Liho, who was nestled comfortably between the two of you throughout the exchange, is purring merrily (“talk, Valentina!” as your friend Darcy would say).

She looks down at you for a moment, eyes wide and dilated, hair a little less perfect than before, panting slightly. She’s always had a few inches on you, ever since you were kids, and that’s something she often teases you for but right now the way she’s towering over you is so fucking hot. None of this can be real, you think to yourself hazily as she leans back in to plant one more kiss, much more chaste this time, against your lips.

“Happy New Year,” she says lowly to you; her voice is a little more broken and raspy than it was pre-makeout and it actually sends a shiver down your spine. And then she’s waltzing out of the room, leaving you absolutely shaking against the wall she was just pressing you against; your legs give up on you as you slide down against it to the ground, trying to catch your breath and understand what just happened.

Because what? 

You wake up the next morning to a house that’s thankfully empty, aside from its usual residents. You’re absolutely terrified that last night was some kind of dream, or it was a drunk mistake. You’ve never felt so vulnerable in your life. You’re right in the palm of Natasha’s hand and she has all the power in the world to absolutely break you right now. She could shatter you into a thousand irreparable pieces and leave you in the dirt if she so wanted to, and that thought is one that had you tossing and turning last night.

Yelena can’t for the life of her fathom why you’re so jittery this morning. You’ve told her fuck all, of course. What were you meant to say? Hey, sorry, last night your sister who I’m kind of a little bit in love with cornered me and we made out? No fucking way. When you came back to the bedroom last night all shaken up and wordless, she just assumed that the party atmosphere had been that overwhelming. You were very grateful for her gentleness with you as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on, and what you were meant to do now. You tried to Google it, but it would appear that not many other people can relate to the situation that you’ve found yourself in (the best thing you could find were some decade-old Quora threads about being in love with your straight best friend, and the idea of Yelena being straight was so funny to you that you had to close the tab before your laughing woke her up), and you ended up being so worried about Yelena somehow seeing your search history that you cleared the whole thing, which definitely is not suspicious. 

“Hey,” Yelena slaps the back of your head playfully as she passes you, knocking you out of your trance, “it is a new day. Party is over, the house is ours, leave the miserableness behind in yesterday, да?”

You nod as you follow her down the stairs.

Natasha, to your surprise, is already awake, and seemingly not even hungover as she bustles around the kitchen, preparing something.

Yelena seems to read your thoughts, as she often does, and nods in agreement. “What, you are not curled up in bed with four million painkillers?” she asks incredulously as she slides onto a stool at the kitchen island.

Natasha shakes her head good-naturedly at her sister’s greeting, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling like an idiot as she continues to cook. “No. I feel good this morning, actually. Really good.” The smile bleeds through her words and takes over her face again.

You and Yelena exchange a look. What is… happening?

“You are being weird,” Yelena tells her, and smacks her over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper as her older sister walks past her to grab the butter. “What have I missed, did you get laid last night or something?”

Your blood runs cold at that, and you have to look away from Yelena so she doesn’t see the way your face drops. Is that true? Did she kiss you and then sleep with someone else? No, she wouldn’t do that to you, surely.

Your thoughts (hopes) are confirmed when she snorts to herself and shakes her head, her back still to the both of you as she pours batter into a pan. “No. No, I just — I had a really good time last night. That’s all. Thanks for letting me have the party.”

You watch as Yelena’s eyebrows furrow, her eyes tracking every one of Natasha’s movements intently, and she tries to figure out what’s going on. You’re similarly perplexed. Natasha is the silent, stony older sibling, the watcher, the one who hears everything and knows everything but doesn’t often speak of her own accord. Last night in the laundry room was the longest exchange you’ve had with her in weeks (and that was before she kissed you). As a kid you would mistake this for shyness, but it eventually became clear that Natasha Romanoff is not shy. She’s very far from it, in fact. She’s just observant, and doesn’t feel the need to speak unless she has something to say. You have zero clue what she’s feeling or thinking half the time — her poker face is so good it’s unsettling. So this is a weird occurrence. You don’t think you’ve seen her as happy as this since… well, since the day she was brought home.

“Well, it is not as though we had much choice in the matter,” Yelena retorts humorously. “Don’t forget we are not cleaning up. That’s on you, сестра.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha grumbles playfully, placing a plate in front of each of you before sliding a pancake onto each of them, right out of the pan. “I owe you one.”

Yelena looks from the pancake to her sister, and back again. “What is this?”

“A chocolate chip pancake.”

“They’re heart-shaped,” you observe quietly.

“Well done for having eyes. If you don’t want them —”

“Nope, it’s good, thank you,” says Yelena thickly, and it’s already gone. You let out a noise of amusement as you eat in a more dignified manner, humming your approval. You don’t think Nat’s ever made you breakfast. It’s nice, though.

Yelena swallows, and leaps to her feet. “I think it’s a Kardashians marathon on TV today,” she informs you, pointedly ignoring the noise Natasha makes whenever that show is mentioned, and she dashes off into the living room. You are alone with Natasha, for the first time since last night.

The nerves from earlier are back, swelling up inside of you uncomfortably, and you do your best to casually avert your gaze from her as you continue to eat. You have no idea whether to bring up last night or to pretend it never happened. Just thinking of the latter makes your heart ache, but it’s becoming a more real possibility by the minute.

Seemingly indifferent to your internal struggling, Natasha slides a pancake onto her own plate and ruffles your hair as she passes you on her way to the fridge. You flinch at the touch, and she giggles.

“You okay?” she asks you teasingly as she pulls a container of raspberries out of the fridge.

You swallow, and nod, trying your best to not embarrass yourself this morning. “Y — yeah. Uh, can I have some?” You gesture at the tub of raspberries.

She pretends to think for a moment, taking slow steps back towards you, until she’s right in front of you — towering over you even more so than she usually does, since you’re still sat down. You look up at her, filled with something not dissimilar to awe. Even in the mornings, when she’s fresh out of bed and still half-asleep, she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. She places her spare hand on your thigh, with the other still holding the berries, and you think to yourself with absolute certainty that you could die happily in this moment.

“Mmm,” she says thoughtfully. “Beg me.”

Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, your jaw drops. You look up at her, pleadingly, not even sure what you’re pleading for. Pleading her to go easy on you? Pleading her to stop? To keep going? But she’s unrelenting.

“Please,” you say eventually, quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please can I have some.”

Almost too quickly for you to process, her lips are pressing against yours. You gasp against her, every single emotion from last night swelling back up, with the added concern that Yelena is in the next room over. But she pulls away after a moment, winking at you as she retreats to her own seat, and as you raise a hand to your lips you realise that in kissing you, she’s left a berry between your lips. She laughs gently when she sees you openly staring at her, and the sound sets your whole body alight, the feeling only amplified by the fact that you’re the cause of her laughter.

Well, you wanted an answer and there’s not many ways to interpret that one.

And so begins your scandalous affair with your best friend’s sister.

[wileys-russo]

would you be able to write a blurb with Alexia Putellas where you constantly tease her for her nickname La Reina. Love your work so much!!!🫶

la reina II a.putellas

"bon diaa!" alexia's eyes fluttered open hearing a voice sing out by her ear, your face hovering over her a welcome surprise. "someone slept in." you smiled teasingly, not having missed the way alexia had woken to her alarm, snoozing it and rolling back over to cuddle into you, very out of character for her.

"are you complaining?" her accent was even thicker in the mornings when she was tired which made you melt, staring at you through her lashes with a small smile. "never. it was a very welcome surprise ale." you beamed happily, kissing her flushed cheek.

"since you're not up yet, let me cook breakfast for you?" you asked softly, pressing your body into hers and kissing her jaw as alexia stretched with a tired nod. "stay." you ordered playfully, sitting up on your knees, lips pressing momentarily to her forehead.

"te lo perdiste." (you missed) alexia smiled cheekily, tapping her lips and balling your shirt in her other hand. "oh lo siento." you pouted teasingly, ducking down and giving her a proper kiss good morning.

"now stay here, mi reina!" you winked making her groan and swat at your ass as you stood from the bed, detesting the nickname given to her by her teammates and adored by you.

little did she know she'd just added fuel to the fire.

enjoying the warm sun bathing her face alexia ignored her every urge to get out of bed, squashing down the voice in her head screaming that this was a waste of time and allowing herself the luxury of falling back to sleep for a little while.

she woke what felt like mere seconds later when really an hour had passed, her face now smushed into her pillow as a weight settled on her back. "bon dia again amor." you sang out, pressing gentle kisses on the back of her neck.

hearing her stir and start to shift beneath you, you shuffled off of her, sitting on the edge of the bed with a soft smile. "la reina's breakfast is ready if she is!" you teased with a grin, alexia's eyes slotting into a tired glare as she sat herself up and swung out of bed.

begrudgingly she took your outstretched hand, allowing you to tug her out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. "gracias bebita." alexia held your hand tighter as she sat down, pulling you toward her and pecking your lips sleepily, plate of food already in front of her.

"no no." you tutted, pushing her hands away from her cutlery as alexia frowned. "que?" she questioned as you picked them up, a sly smile on your face which immediately she was suspicious of, eyes narrowing slightly.

"la reina does not feed herself!" you shook your head, cutting up her food and offering her a forkful. "you are joking." your girlfriend spoke bluntly in her accented english, staring at you as your grin only widened.

"have to look after you best i can mi reina." you continued, waving the fork in front of her as alexia snatched it off you, turning her shoulder and eating with a huff.

"te amo muchoo." you sang out, kissing her cheek repeatedly as she pushed you away with a grumble of something under her breath. "your laundry is also done, have to make sure la reina has clean clothes for training!" you smiled, leaning your chin on your hand as your girlfriend shot you another glare over her shoulder.

opting to ignore you as you tried time and time again to gain her attention alexia finished her food and stood, moving to the sink and rinsing her dishes as you attached to her back.

"was it good, mi reina?" you teased, kissing the back of her shoulder blades as alexia huffed, trying to push you away as you only clung on tighter and she placed her plate on the drying rack.

"por qué dices esto ahora?" (why are you saying this now) your girlfriend groaned, her taller body leaning into you a little as you laughed. "you are too easy to wind up ale" you smiled, craning your neck around to kiss her cheek a few times.

"please stop." she turned quickly, hands grabbing your hips and walking you backward till you hit the counter, eyebrows knit into a pouty frown only making you smile more.

"okay baby." you agreed, leaning up to sweetly kiss her as alexia sighed, slumping again into you as you ran a hand through her hair and her thumbs rubbed circles into your hips.

"you should get ready hermosa, you train at eleven thirty." you reminded, tapping her sides gently as she exhaled and pushed off of you, pecking your lips several times with a nod, again mumbling a thank you for breakfast against them.

"of course amor. cannot have la reina training on an empty stomach!" you grinned teasingly, alexia's eyes narrowing as you took off toward the bedroom, your girlfriends footsteps thundering after you.

[scoonsalicious]

4.2 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, mentions of Bucky's past.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Bucky convinced Sam to lie to Lily for him if she asks where Bucky is tonight.

A/N: In the car, I just can't wait / To pick you up for our very first date!

Is it cool if I hold your hand? / Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You were nervous. Why were you so nervous? This man had already had his mouth on your lady bits; there was no reason to be nervous about just having dinner with him, right? Yet your heart was racing as you waited for Bucky to come pick you up for your date. 

You must have checked your hair and reapplied your lip gloss a thousand times when the doorman buzzed to let you know you had a visitor. After telling him to send Bucky up, you glanced at the clock– he was exactly five minutes early, and you stifled a giggle at the thought of him pacing in front of your building until an appropriate time. 

Soon enough, there was a gentle knocking at your door, and with a last glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you opened the door.

You both stood there for a moment, taking the other in. Bucky looked positively resplendent in a black suit and burgundy button up– no tie, and the first few buttons left undone. The contrast with his eyes made them look even more blue than you remembered from this morning.

“Hi,” you breathed. “Uh, hey,” he said, seeming to come out of a trance. “You… you look fucking amazing.” You ducked your head to hide your blush– you’d put on an emerald green, A-line Chiffon cocktail dress with an asymmetrical skirt that hit just below your knees and a peekaboo cut in front– held together with beading– and a v-tieback. “Stole my breath for a minute there.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks.

“Oh, these are for you,” Bucky said, handing you a bouquet of white roses.

You held them to your face and inhaled. “They’re gorgeous, thank you,” you said, moving aside to invite him in. “You’re spoiling me, you know that, right? First the orchid, now the roses?”

You moved toward the kitchen to find a vase to put the flowers in. 

“Did you like the orchid?” Bucky asked, almost shyly, as though he was afraid he’d made a wrong move. You turned back to smile at him. “I loved it,” you told him honestly. “How did you even know orchids are my favorite?”

Bucky chuckled and nodded his head toward your living room wall, where you had three giant paintings of orchid flowers hanging over your sofa. “Just a lucky guess, I ‘spose.”

“You’re very perceptive, Mr. Barnes.” You put water in the vase, setting the flowers inside and placing them on the dividing wall between your kitchen and dining room. “There,” you said, stepping back to admire them. 

“You ready to go, doll?” Bucky asked, extending his arm to you. 

You took it gladly, slotting yourself next to him as though you were made to fit there. “I am,” you said.

Bucky had borrowed one of Tony Stark’s sports cars for the occasion, and you felt incredibly fancy as you drove through the streets of the city in it. You and Bucky made small talk on your way to the restaurant where Bucky had made a reservation for the two of you, and you found him so incredibly easy to talk to. You talked about the differences in the army between the ‘40s and now, and shared a few light war stories. By the time you reached the restaurant, he had you laughing so hard at a story he told about living with the Avengers that you thought your sides were going to burst.

You weren’t sure what kind of establishment you’d expected him to bring you to, and truthfully, you would have been thrilled with a regular old burger joint, if you were going there with him, but when you stepped out onto the rooftop terrace, you let out a gasp. The restaurant overlooked the Hudson, offering a dazzling view of the sunset over New Jersey. The tables were all tucked behind and around towering pieces of greenery– palms and ferns, and blossoming shrubs offering a screen of privacy for every group of diners. Overhead, cafe lights hung from pergolas, washing the area in a soft, warm light. It was heavenly.

Once Bucky gave his name and the hostess began escorting you to your table, he leaned in to whisper to you “What do you think?”

Your head was moving in every direction as you tried to take in every ounce of ambiance. “It’s gorgeous, Bucky,” you told him truthfully. “How did you find this place?”

“Pepper Potts recommended it,” he said. “She said it was the perfect spot for an intimate meal. Plus, they close for the winter, so if I wanted to take you, I’d better do it on one of our first dates.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, studying his face. “You’re planning multiple dates already?” you asked, a curl to your lips. 

“‘Course, doll,” Bucky said as you approached your designated table. “Gotta whole list of things I wanna do with you.”

You felt your face flush as he pulled your chair back for you before gently pushing you in. 

“So, what’s on this list?” you asked him once he’d sat himself down. 

“Nuh-uh,” he chided you. “They’ve gotta be surprises, at least until we get closer to ‘em.”

There was no way this man was real, you thought. No way you, of all people, could get lucky enough to catch his eye.

The waiter approached, asking if you would like wine for the table, and a panicked look flashed across Bucky’s face. You asked the waiter for a few more moments to decide.

“What is it?” you asked him.

“I have no fucking idea what wine to get!” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Fuck! I knew I should have asked Pepper!”

You reached across the table and put a comforting hand on top of his. “Hey, it’s okay,” you told him. “I actually don’t know shit about wine, myself.” Bucky gave you a skeptical look, but you nodded reassuringly. “How about we just get cocktails, instead?”

The smile Bucky gave you then was equal parts relief and gratitude. “Yeah,” he said, looking much happier. “I’ll get me some of that delicious girly shit.” He winked at you, and you laughed. 

The waiter returned shortly, and you both placed your orders. Once he left, you realized you needed to come clean about something.

You cleared your throat. “So, uh, I actually have to confess something to you,” you told him, fidgeting with the napkin you’d placed in your lap.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, leaning forward, eyes sparkling in the soft light.

You closed your eyes, feeling horrible for what you were about to say. “I… I Googled you,” you told him. 

Realization dawned on Bucky’s face. “Oh,” he said, expression falling. “Yeah… uh,” he coughed into his hand. “That makes sense. So, you came to dinner to, what? Just let me down gently?”

Your mouth hung open in surprise. “What? No!” You reached over to grasp his hand again, this time interlocking your fingers with his own. “Look, the truth of it is, I told a couple of employees– my friends– about meeting you last night, and they brought up your trial.” Bucky visibly flinched at your words. “I admit, I knew nothing about it– it happened around the same time I was getting divorced, so I was kind of preoccupied for a while,” you said. “So, when my friends told me about the charges, I got… curious.”

You noticed Bucky was studiously looking down at his bread plate, not meeting your eye. “Hey,” you said, tugging gently on his hand. “Look at me.”

He slowly raised his eyes and you were struck with how… remorseful they looked. “The more I read,” you told him, “the more I realized the whole thing was a trumped up circus. Anyone with an ounce of empathy could see that you weren’t responsible for what you were made to do; that you were a victim. They just needed someone to blame, and you were a convenient scapegoat.”

“Doll,” Bucky said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “you don’t understand. I–”

“No, Bucky, please,” you said to him. “I don’t want you thinking you have to disclose anything to me unless you want to and you’re ready. I just want you to know that I don’t hold those things against you. I don’t blame you, and I don’t think you should be blamed. I want you to know that none of it matters, not to me. I look at you, and I don’t see the man the media tried to paint you to be. I see someone sweet, who makes me laugh– someone I really want to get to know better. I just want you to know all that.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide as saucers as he took in your words. You were almost afraid you’d said something wrong, after he hadn’t spoken for nearly a full minute, but finally, he squeezed your hand. “Thank you,” he said, voice choked. “You… you don’t know what that means to me. I can’t tell you what that means to me– I don’t have the words. I just… thank you.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[morganbritton132]

So does eddie ever realize that Steve's moment of "maybe I should retire" was based around the fact that he was getting death threat letters? Or is he just too excited by the prospect that he just focuses on how much fun it would be to have Steve w him all the time?

He does eventually make the connection, but it takes time.

Steve mentioned retiring before Eddie had any inkling of the letters so it’s not an obvious connection for him. Especially because Steve still talked about retiring after Eddie found out.

He’s clouded by the possibility of having it all.

Eddie loves touring. He loves every aspect of it and he loves the possibility of being able to do whatever they want whenever they want. The best times of Eddie’s life were when Steve joined Corroded Coffin on the road, and like. Eddie gets it.

Steve was meant to be a teacher. He’s good at his job and he loves it, and the world is better off because Steve was a teacher. Eddie knows that.

It’s just… it’s just that they got together and then Corroded Coffin went from playing to five drunks at The Hideout to an opening act to headlining their own tours so fast. In those early days, Steve had all these health issues that they were learning to live with and then was in school, and then was working.

And yeah, he would spend the summer on the road with the band but then it was half the summer because he had to work to pay for school or because he was teaching summer school, and then it was even less. Then it was not at all.

The idea that Eddie could have it all made him blind to what – upon reflection – was so obvious.

Eddie would make a joke about how Steve won’t be blowing him off to write lesson plans next year and miss the way that Steve would cringe. He’d point out that Steve didn’t need to buy the funny encouragement stickers at the store because this was his last year teaching and then miss the hollowness in Steve’s voice when he says, “Yeah, I guess.”

It’s not until one day when Dustin’s over. They’re planning to play some new video game that he bought and Eddie’s trying to figure out how to connect his PS5 to the tv in his studio when Dustin asks, “Is Steve okay? Like, no bad test results or anything?”

“He’s fine,” Eddie says and then after a beat, “Why? Did he say something to you?”

“No, but you always bug him until he sets this shit up for you,” Dustin points out. “And I know that he’s in bed right now. At 5 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Saturday.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Captain Obvious,” He replies sarcastically, waving some cords at him until Dustin takes them and plugs them in the back of the tv. “He has a headache.”

“Okayyyy, so he’s been having a lot of headaches then?” Dustin asked, matching the sarcasm in Eddie’s voice. “I’ve been here a lot since the – you know, death threats. He is either in bed or laying on the couch. I haven’t seen him exercise in-“

“He’s working on that,” Eddie says. “Would you go on a run when someone knows where you live and threatened to beat you to death? Nope. He’s just… working through it. Processing and shit. He has a therapist.”

“I thought that was for his mom?”

“A therapist can have more than one purpose.”

“I’m just saying, he seems depressed,” Dustin says after a bit, completely unwilling to let it go. “He barely hangs out with Robin, he didn’t come to D&D last week, and you were literally just complaining that Steve hasn’t been – gross – in the mood lately. It seems like he’s really checked out and he only gets like that when something is wrong.”

“He’s got that make up MRI coming up,” Eddie replies, but it feels like he’s reaching. His mind is slotting together how many times they’ve eaten pizza this month or how many times he’s woken up before Steve. Last weekend, they watched Star Trek: The Next Generation and Steve didn’t even complain. “I’m sure that’s it.”

Eddie confronts Steve in the morning.

They’re eating cereal at the kitchen table and Eddie watches as Steve picks the marshmallows out of his Luck Charms before asking bluntly, “Are you dying?”

A little too bluntly because Steve startles like he’s been shocked, “What?”

“So, that’s a no?” Eddie asks, and then to Steve’s bewildered look, “Dustin’s worried that you’re dying. He says you’re acting weird, and you are. I can’t trust that you’ll tell me things anymore so… So, I’m asking, and I will take your word that you’re not going to lie directly to my face. Are you dying?”

“No,” Steve says. “No, I – Ed, I’d never keep something like that from you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“But you ARE acting weird,” Eddie insists. “I know that the letters were a lot and they were scary, and it’s completely normal to not be okay about it, but this seems like it’s something else. You’re not doing any of your normal Steve stuff so… what’s going on?”

“I don’t – Eddie, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay,” He says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Don’t do that,” Steve tells him. “Don’t say it like you think I’m lying to you. I’m not. I – I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the letter. I didn’t know what to do, so stop… Stop treating me like you can’t trust me.”

“You’re hiding something, Steve! How can-“

“Do you know what I’m giving up?” Steve snaps, somewhere between sad and angry. He drops his spoon and pushes away from the table. “I would give up the world for you, Eddie, and I – I am! If you can’t trust me then what are we doing? I don’t want to be in my parents relationship and that’s what it feels like. I feel like I’m giving everything up so I can be here and you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy, Steve, I’m – I’m confused! I don’t know what’s going on. What are you giving up?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” Eddie exclaims, tugging on his hair before getting up and following Steve. They’re standing in front of the kitchen sink when Eddie says, “I want to understand. What’s going-“

“I don’t want to stop teaching.”

Eddie stops, and it’s like every conversation they’ve had for the last month slots into place with brand new context and he’s – god, he’s an idiot. “Steve, baby. You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” He says and he tries to smile like everything is fine. “We’re going to travel and it’s going to be really fun. It’s just hard right now.”

“I didn’t – god, Steve. I’m sorry if I pressured you into thinking that you – we travel during the summer and on spring break, and we go on dates on the weekend, and that’s enough for me, babe. I don’t need you to give up anything for me.”

“I want to.”

Eddie takes a breath and he squeezes Steve’s hand, “Would you ever make me stop playing guitar? Would you ever let me break up the band and stop making music so we could spend time together?”

“It’s different, Eddie.”

“No, it’s not,” He tells him. “It’s your life and it’s your passion, and I’m a really shitty husband if I take that from you.” 

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter three

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

word count; 18,731

warnings; explicit sexual content, horny teenagers, first time sexual experiences, a heavy handed dose of Stiles' birth-name

chapter notes; lydia is struggling with visions of peter hale. erica reyes makes a memorable appearance. stiles and amber have their first date – among other firsts.

masterlist

c h a p t e r t h r e e

ice pick

Even though they only took part in it once a week, it was Amber's personal opinion that Physical Education was single-handedly the best of their weekly elective classes. Not only was it slotted into the first class period of the day, meaning they didn't have to sit through a sleep-inducing English lecture at eight in the morning, but it also meant that she was given the opportunity to watch Stiles get enticingly sweaty, up close and personal, for forty-five blissful minutes.

This Friday was, unfortunately, one of the less sweat inducing activities. Coach Finstock was timing each of them as they climbed the rock wall in pairs of two, jotting down their times on his clipboard as they all slowly took their turns.

Scott and Allison were currently hooked up to the wall, clearly bantering back and forth with flirty smiles as they climbed the tall structure at the far side of the gymnasium.

Stiles had his arms wrapped around Amber's stomach as he watched from his spot behind her, chin propped on her shoulder as he slouched over her body. He glanced at the side of her face and his next exhale puffed out loudly over her ear, causing her to flinch and tilt her head away from the noise.

"You're annoying." She laughed, blindly reaching up to push his face away gently with her hand.

He only tightened his arms around her waist and laughed, turning to dig his face into the crook of her neck in retaliation. She brought a hand up to rub over the short soft hair on top of his head as she watched Scott lose his grip on the rock wall and fall back toward the ground slowly with the protection of his harness.

Allison was looking down at Scott with a satisfied grin and Amber laughed along with most of the other students as Scott landed softly on his back on the cushioned floor mat.

Coach squatted down beside him, also laughing at Scott's misfortune, "McCall. I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kinda joy." He chuckled again before standing up and looking at the students grouped in front of him. "Alright! Next two." Coach's eyes raked over the group as he chose his victims carefully, "Stilinski! Daehler!"

Amber was released as Stiles stepped up to the wall while Allison repelled back down. He took Allison's place in the harness as Matt Daehler hooked himself into Scott's. The boys readied themselves to climb and Coach prepared his timer, clicking at the buttons to reset the device.

"Woo! Go Matt!" Amber cheered encouragingly.

Stiles turned to scowl at her playfully in response to her taunts and she grinned wide. She was still smiling when Matt turned to face her as well and she gave him a friendly thumbs up just as Coach blew on his whistle loudly in indication for them to go.

Scott returned to stand beside her and he bumped her shoulder with his as Matt and Stiles started their ascent.

"That wasn't very nice." Scott laughed before cheering for their friend himself, "C'mon Stiles!"

The two boys both climbed quickly, hands and feet moving along the holds in a fast pace as they raced upward. Stiles managed to reach the top just a few seconds before Matt did and they both repelled back down as soon as they tapped in at the top of the wall.

"Alright, last up! Amber! Erica!" Coach Finstock yelled out next.

Amber jumped, not realizing they were already at the final two climbers, and she stepped up to take Stiles' harness from him with a grin.

"I'm not sure if you saw that but I totally made it to the top in like fifteen seconds." He boasted quietly, unnecessarily helping Amber tighten the straps on the harness around her waist.

"Oh, did you?" She asked airily, looking up from the harness as she took another step toward the wall, "I guess I must've missed that."

"Yeah, okay." Stiles said as he backed away, "Try not to fall on your cute little ass, alright?"

She snorted as she spun to face the wall and readied herself, peeking over at the girl beside her. Erica was frowning at the wall with worried eyes and Amber reached out to nudge her arm softly.

"Hey, you got this." Amber encouraged quietly.

Erica smiled tightly and nodded at her before looking up at the wall again just as Coach blew the whistle.

Amber took a breath and began to climb, finding a good handhold before she pulled herself up and stepped higher. She cycled through the motions in quick repetition until she reached the top of the wall and slapped her hand down against the ledge to mark her finish before quickly repelling back down to the ground.

When her feet touched down on the mats, she peered up to see where Erica was but found the blonde at a standstill only halfway up the wall.

"You can do it Erica." Amber called up gently.

The blonde was beginning to suck in loud wheezing breaths, still not making any moves to climb any further up the wall. Amber frowned worriedly and took a small step toward where the other girl's harness was set up on the wall.

"Erica!" Amber called up again, "Are you okay?"

Erica's breathing picked up into something harsher and Amber could hear her gasping breaths as she began to cry quietly.

Coach came up to stand behind Amber and yelled up toward the other girl as well, "Erica!" He shouted, "You dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

"Vertigo is a function of the vestibular system of the inner ear," Lydia's voice supplied suddenly from behind them, "She's just freaking out."

"Erica!" Coach shouted up at her again.

"I'm fine." Erica finally called back down weakly.

Amber stepped back up to the wall and began to climb up the center to get as close as she could to the place where Erica had stopped as conversation continued below them.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe," Allison said, "Y'know she's epileptic."

"Why doesn't anybody tell me these things?" Coach asked rhetorically as Amber finally reached the other girl halfway up the wall.

"Hey. You okay?" Amber asked her quietly.

"Yeah," Erica said unconvincingly, "I just- I can't do it."

"That's okay," Amber said quickly, "Let's just go back down-"

"I can't do that either." Erica shook her head frantically.

"Sure you can," Amber countered gently, "Seriously the harness won't let you fall, alright?"

"I'm scared." Erica whispered, pinching her eyes shut tight in embarrassment.

"Gimme your hand," Amber reached out toward the other girl and Erica's hands tightened on the holds of the wall, "Erica, I promise you won't fall down. Just take my hand and we'll go back down slowly. Together."

Erica's hand released and regripped the hold a few times shakily before she finally reached out the couple of inches that Amber's arm couldn't cover. The girl's grip tightened around Amber's hand anxiously at having lost one of her supports to the wall.

"Good. Now just, lean back a little bit and push off. Let the harness hold your weight and ropes will take us back down nice and slow. I promise." Amber assured her softly.

Erica nodded and pinched her eyes shut again as she pushed her feet off of the wall and they sank back down toward the floor in just a couple of short seconds. The moment their feet touched down, Erica dropped Amber's hand and began to pull off her harness.

"Shake it off." Coach told Erica as she dropped the harness to the ground at her feet, "You're fine."

"Hey, Erica-" Amber called out as she watched the other girl push through their classmates to head to the locker room.

Amber pulled at her own harness and her fingers fumbled with the straps as she tried to loosen them. She looked up and her eyes caught on Stiles standing a few feet away.

"Stiles! Would you help-" She called out in frustration, pulling at one of the buckles angrily. His hands were suddenly there with hers, undoing the harness easily, "-me."

"Better?" He asked with a soft smile.

"Yes. Thank you." She sighed in relief, taking his outstretched hand and stepping away from the wall.

"Yeah, don't mention it." He said before pausing, "I mean, I wouldn't stop you if you wanted really to thank me.. With, I dunno, a kiss or-"

She fisted her hand in the front of his tacky graphic tee and pulled his lips down against hers in a quick kiss before releasing him.

"Is that thanks enough?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"Hm," Stiles hummed noncommittally, "I don't-"

She shoved his chest and shook her head, "Well it's all you're getting, so tough luck." She told him with a small laugh, stepping away to head toward the girl's locker room with Lydia and Allison.

Stiles threw his arm around Scott's shoulders as Amber and Allison walked to the other side of the gymnasium with Lydia to get changed before classes.

"Hate to see 'em leave but love to watch 'em go, am I right, Scott?" Stiles asked, shaking his friend's shoulder in his grip good-naturedly.

"Yeah," Scott shook his head with a reluctant laugh, "Sure thing, dude."

"Hey, what's with you?" Stiles questioned as they made their own way to the locker rooms, "You should be happy. I mean, just think, in ten short hours, we'll be on a double date with, like, the girls of our dreams-"

"Yeah, about that.." Scott started as they pushed open the door and stepped into the all encompassing stench of the boy's locker room, his voice cutting out at the sound of a sharp whistle.

"Listen up!" Coach Finstock's voice suddenly boomed as the room filled with students, "Anybody sees Isaac Lahey, you immediately tell the principal, get a teacher, or you call me." He looked at the cluster of boys in front of him and frowned when his eyes caught on a boy at the back of the group, "Except for you, Greenberg. Don't call me for anything. I'm not kidding. You shouldn't even have my number."

"Isaac.." Scott said as they moved toward their lockers.

"It's Derek's problem now." Stiles told him with a shrug.

They turned the corner at the back of the room into their row of lockers and Scott sighed, "Like I was saying.. I just, I dunno if tonight's such a good idea, man."

Stiles stared at his friend incredulously, eye nearly twitching in disbelief as he moved to pull his shirt over his head, "What do you mean 'tonight's not a good idea'?"

Scott pulled his locker open with a frown, "I don't know.. That thing me and Allison saw on Wednesday night, Isaac missing, Allison's grandfather, all this stuff happening with Derek.. I just- It doesn't feel right."

Stiles pulled on a clean shirt and looked at his best friend in disbelief, slamming Scott's locker closed to look at his face directly.

"No." Stiles told him vehemently, "You're not backing out. You wanna know why?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before he barreled on, "Because you and Allison are obviously having quite a good time together, and you know who else wants to have a good time?" He questioned, continuing without taking a breath, "Stiles! Stiles wants to have a good time! Many, many times. Several times.. In a row.. In several different positions- I-" His jaw clenched at Scott's unfocused gaze, "Are you even paying attention?"

Scott lifted his arm between them and they both looked down at the noticeable tremble in his shaking hands.

"What is that?" Stiles questioned in exasperation, gesturing to his friend's outstretched hand. Scott suddenly jumped into action and took off back toward the gym, "Wh- Scott! Wait up!"

Stiles ran after him, joining a small cluster of girls who were worriedly tumbling out of the locker room down the hall and rushing in the same direction. Amber was at the front of the group and Stiles nudged her shoulder as he caught up to run beside her.

"What's going on?" He asked as they rounded the corner.

"I think Erica went by herself to finish climbing the wall-" Her frantic words cut off when she froze with wide eyes.

They had stepped into the gym just as the blonde girl fell back through the air from her spot halfway up the climbing wall, with no harness to slow her descent. Amber's fingers gripped Stiles' arm tight in panic but Scott managed to run underneath Erica just in time to catch her in his arms.

The group of girls and Stiles all rushed forward again, he and Amber kneeling down in a quick motion. Erica's body was twitching and writhing as she seized and Scott released her down onto the floor gently, looking up at his friends with wide unsure eyes.

"Put her on her side!" Allison told Scott quickly.

Scott did as he was told and Amber reached out to gently brush some of Erica's wild hair back from her face.

"How did you know?" Amber asked Scott quietly, "I- I noticed she wasn't in the locker room anymore but you-"

"I just felt it." Scott explained, confused by the situation himself, his hand clenched in Erica's tight grip against her chest.

Amber sat back on her heels and exhaled a shaky sigh, her arm pressing into Stiles as she settled back.

It was only then that Stiles took in her appearance. She had pulled her hair from the loose ponytail she'd been wearing during class, her light ashy hair falling softly over her shoulders. Clearly having been in the process of getting changed when she noticed Erica's absence, she was now wearing only her tiny sports bra over her gym shorts. He found himself swallowing thickly as his eyes were pulled to the roundness of her breasts in the tight fabric.

"Can somebody go get Coach?" She called out to the students who were still standing, huddled behind the scene, "She's gonna need to go to the hospital."

Stiles' eyes snapped back up to her face just as she turned to look at him and he blinked at her silently for a few seconds, unsure if she'd caught him staring. He relaxed after a moment passed and her lips only proceeded to pull up to give him a small smile.

He dropped his arm around her shoulders and curled it around her neck, pulling her against him to press his lips to her temple softly. Something in his stomach flipped when she leaned into his embrace and settled a hand on his thigh over his track pants.

Eight o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

Amber made her way down the hallway between morning classes, her shoulder bumping against Lydia's as they discussed their plans for Saturday night. Amber's mouth was just opening to say something when she was suddenly pushed half a step to the side as Jackson shoved his way between the two girls.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded angrily, wrapping a hand around Lydia's arm in a tight grip as he pulled her around the corner and crowded her back against the wall.

"What?" Lydia questioned in a gasp.

Amber caught up with them in only a few steps and pried Jackson's hand away with her fingers, jaw clenching angrily as she shoved his arm away from Lydia.

"Show it to me." Jackson demanded vaguely, reaching out again, this time toward the hem of Lydia's dress, "Show it to me. Come on-"

"Jackson, back the hell off." Amber snapped, shoving him back again.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lydia asked the boy, eyes wide.

"Nothing happened to you," Jackson stated, looking the redhead up and down slowly, "It's like- It's like you- You're immune."

Amber's eyes widened a fraction as she finally realized what the boy was talking about.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about." Lydia told him in a whisper.

He stepped forward to push Lydia back against the wall again and Amber jabbed him with her elbow to shove him away from her friend with a deadly glare.

"It's you," He told Lydia, doing an excellent job of ignoring Amber's presence entirely, "Whatever it is.. Blood, saliva.. Whatever soul killing substance is running through your veins. You did this to me." He hissed angrily.

Amber grabbed his arm in a tight grip and yanked him several steps away, "Jackson I swear to god if you touch her again-"

"You ruined it for me." He snapped at the redhead over Amber's shoulder as he was pushed backwards, "You ruin everything!"

Amber gave him one final, hard shove and he took a few steps in reverse, his chest heaving with angry breaths. He finally spun around and began to walk away but Amber refused to take her eyes off of him as she watched to make sure he wouldn't come back.

He turned around after a second at the sound of Lydia sobbing softly from behind them and Amber's glare only intensified. His jaw clenched with a regretful expression, but he turned away and continued to leave with a shake of his head.

Amber spun back around and was at Lydia's side again in a second, her fingers taking Lydia's hand in a soft grip. She pulled her friend down the hallway and into the girls bathroom just as the redhead began to cry in earnest.

"Hey, you're okay." Amber said softly, tucking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind Lydia's ear.

"I need- I need a minute." Lydia choked out, dashing into one of the stalls and slamming the metal door shut behind her before sniffling loudly in the quiet room.

"I- I'll wait outside." Amber decided softly, frowning at the closed stall door one last time before she turned and stepped out into the hallway to lean against the wall just outside of the restroom.

She stood with her back pressed against the wall for several minutes before she heard Lydia speaking softly from inside the bathroom. Turning back toward the door, Amber was about to peek inside when the door swung open and Lydia stepped out into the hallway with a determined look on her face.

"Hey, Lyds-" Amber started, pausing when Lydia's gaze caught on the empty staircase behind the brunette.

"Where is he going?" Lydia asked before taking off, pushing past her friend to begin climbing the stairs.

"What?" Amber called out to her friend's retreating back in confusion, "Where's who going? Lydia-"

She mimicked Lydia's quick steps and followed behind her as they went upstairs and rounded the hallway back toward the north end of the school, calling out to her friend with no response as she trailed behind.

Lydia finally paused as they came to a smaller staircase in the north hall, her gaze focussed on the large display case full of sports awards and photographs from over the years. Amber watched Lydia's jaw clench before she bounced on her toes and approached the trophy case to get a closer look.

"What's going on?" Amber asked quietly, unsurprised when she still didn't receive a response.

She looked between her friend and the display case in confusion, watching Lydia's eyes focus on a trophy inside with a terrified expression. Amber's eyes followed the redhead's gaze and they caught on an old basketball trophy, the student's name engraved on the plaque stumping her to no end.

Peter Hale.

Amber spotted the back of Stiles' head just as she stepped into the cafeteria at lunchtime and she grinned excitedly, bounding up behind him to wrap her arms around his chest from behind awkwardly over his backpack, pressing her nose into his cheek.

He flinched in surprise and she laughed, "Hello."

"You scared the crap outta me." He scolded, turning his head at an awkward angle to look back at her.

She released him from her arms and took hold of his hand, beginning to pull him over toward the table where Scott was already sitting with his lunch tray. Stiles resisted when she tugged on him and Amber looked back at him in confusion.

"I, uh- I just gotta talk to someone about, a uh, a thing-" He winced at his own vague explanation and took a step to the side, "I'll be right there."

"Oh," She realized, her eyes drifting over to the table a few feet away where a dark skinned boy was sitting by himself and poking at his subpar school lunch, "You're gonna get the keys from Boyd? I'll come with you-"

"Wh- N-No," Stiles stammered before groaning with wide eyes, "It was supposed to be a surprise. Did Scott tell you?" He asked in disbelief.

She frowned guiltily, "Was it? I kinda pulled it out of him. I'm sorry."

Stiles shook his head and reluctantly pulled her toward the table where Vernon Boyd was sitting and having lunch. Amber split off from Stiles and sat down beside Boyd with a smile.

"Hi, Boyd." She greeted.

Stiles settled into the seat across from them, sitting sideways in the chair awkwardly as he tried to look nonchalant, "Boyd." He greeted with a nod. "You got the keys?" He questioned, peeking over at the other boy out of the corner of his eye.

Boyd thrust his hand across the table, keychain dangling from between his fingers. Stiles huffed out an excited breath and reached out to grab the proffered item, but Boyd's hand tightened around the keys with raised eyebrows. Stiles pulled at the keys again with a frown, making a small noise as he tried unsuccessfully to tug them out of the other boy's grip.

"This isn't a favor. This is a transaction." Boyd reminded firmly.

"Right, yeah!" Stiles said easily, letting go of the keychain, "Absolutely.."

Amber watched Stiles dig around in the pocket of his zip up sweatshirt and pull out a crinkled twenty dollar bill, slapping it down on the tabletop with a hopeful look.

"I said fifty." Boyd said plainly, eyes flicking up from the bill to Stiles with an unimpressed frown.

"Really?" Stiles asked with a barely perceptible wince, "I, uh- I remember twenty, I don't know. I have a really good verbal memory, and I remember twenty. I remember that distinctive 'twa' sound." He rambled, eyes finally flicking over to Amber, "Twa - nty."

She snorted and brought a hand up to her mouth to cover the laugh.

Boyd didn't look nearly as amused, "I said fifty. With the 'fu' sound. Hear the difference?"

Stiles made a face, "Ah-"

"If you can't-" Boyd continued quickly, "I can demonstrate some other words with the 'fu' sound."

"Uh, no, no, no-" Stiles ceded, lifting his hips from his seat to dig around in the pocket of his jeans, "I think I'm recalling it." He added another bill to stack on top of the twenty on the table, "Maybe I just got it confused with 'fo' - rty." He prompted.

Boyd took a chip from the bag on his tray and put it into his mouth slowly, holding Stiles' gaze with an indifferent expression as he crunched down on it and chewed.

Stiles' hopeful expression faded into a frown as he sulked, "C'mon, man. Have you seen the piece of crap Jeep I drive?"

"Have you seen the piece of crap bus I take?" Boyd countered without pause.

Amber shook her head, "Stiles. You love Roscoe, don't insult him when he can't hear you." She scolded, pulling out a twenty from the pocket of her jeans and adding it to the pile of bills as she turned to face Boyd in her seat, "Boyd. Thank you for loaning us your work keys. You're the best and we really appreciate it." She collected the sixty dollars and pressed the bills into his large hand with a smile.

Boyd smiled for the first time since the interaction began and held out the keys to her easily, dropping them into her hand as he pocketed the money.

"Wh- Can I get the extra ten dollars back?" Stiles asked the other boy as Amber stood from the table.

"No." Boyd told him easily, eating another chip with a satisfied grin.

Amber rounded the table and pulled Stiles up with her hand in his, "Thank you!" She called out to Boyd one final time as she dragged Stiles around to Scott's table.

She pulled him down into the chair beside her as they sat down across from Scott and she released Stiles' hand to pat him on the thigh consolingly while Scott looked between them.

"Did you get 'em?" He asked.

"Got 'em." Stiles confirmed, "And thank you. For completely ruining the surprise by telling Amber the entire plan." He finished with snark.

Scott frowned with a small shrug, "Sorry, man."

Amber hummed, "It's cute that you thought you both could keep a secret from me for a whole day," She leaned onto her elbows on the table and pressed her lips to Stiles' cheek in a quick peck, "Besides, I'm glad I know now, that way I can dress accordingly. Can you imagine if I'd showed up in a skirt or something?" She laughed, reaching forward to grab a french fry off of Scott's plate and plopping it into her mouth.

"Yeah. That would've been terrible.." Stiles muttered, glaring aggressively across the table at Scott. He sighed after a moment and turned his attention on Amber again, "So, I'll pick you up after Scott gets out of work and we'll meet Allison at the rink. Cool?"

"Cool." She agreed, reaching across the table to grab another french fry.

There was a quiet stirring across the lunchroom and the three turned follow the gazes of their classmates where everyone seemed to be watching the doorway as Erica Reyes stepped into the cafeteria, looking decidedly unlike herself.

Where Erica normally wore jeans and a sweatshirt, always baggy and comfortable so that she could hide herself away behind her clothes and untamed blonde hair. Now, she walked through the room confidently in a small leather skirt and a tight, low-cut tank top, towering several inches taller than her normal height with the high heels she had on her feet.

The blonde strutted into the room with a small sultry smile on her red painted lips, pausing at a table at the front of the room and leaning over to snag the untouched apple from an unsuspecting Freshman's tray. She bit into the fruit sensually, wiping the juice from her lips with another flirty grin before standing back upright.

"What." Lydia said suddenly from beside Scott and Stiles, "In the holy hell. Is that."

"It- It's Erica." Amber mumbled through the french fry still dangling from her mouth, eyes wide as she remained focussed on the beautiful blonde across the lunchroom.

Erica chewed the bite of fruit in her mouth with pursed lips before fiddling with the apple in her hands and turning to leave, slowly strutting back out of the cafeteria with a determined sway of her hips.

Scott and Stiles pushed out of their seats as she turned the corner out of sight and Amber scrambled to follow after them. They rushed down the hallway and pushed through the front doors of the school building just as Erica made it to the curb and pulled open the passenger door of a black Camaro.

The blonde looked up at them with a grin as she slid into the car. She and Derek both peered out the window to shoot them matching smiles before the car took off out of the parking lot, tires squealing in their wake.

"May- Maybe it's a coincidence," Amber tried weakly, "Just because she's suddenly insanely hot and knows Derek doesn't necessarily mean-" Her words cut off as she shrunk back under Scott's glare, "Yeah. Yeah, I heard how ridiculous it sounded even while it was coming out of my mouth."

She watched with a sigh as the Camaro pulled out onto the road with another squeal of tires and sped off.

As the lights flicked on to slowly illuminate the ice rink around them, Amber bounced up onto her toes excitedly and bit down on her lip, gripping onto Stiles' hand tight. He turned his head and took in her eager expression with a satisfied smile, tightening his hand around hers momentarily before he dragged her over to look for skates in their sizes.

He released her hand behind the counter as he pulled two pairs from the shelf. He guided her over to the bench just outside of the ice and gestured for her to sit before handing over her ice skates.

When he sat down beside her, Amber knocked her forehead against his softly, her nose brushing against his teasingly for a second before she turned her head and began pulling off her sneakers.

"Wh-" He protested quietly under his breath.

She laughed quietly and bumped their shoulders together as she began pulling on and lacing up her skates. She was quickly to get them secured and once she was finished she looked over to find Stiles still pulling his own onto his socked feet.

She blew out a warm puff of breath into the cool air around them and shivered lightly beneath her long sleeved shirt.

"It's colder in here than I thought it would be." She admitted quietly, watching the way Stiles' long fingers moved as he finished tying his laces.

No sooner had she spoken when he reached down to his backpack, digging around through the contents for a moment before reemerging with a bright, neon orange athletic shirt.

"Here." He offered with a painfully sweet smile, holding the shirt out in offering.

"Stiles, that's really sweet, but.." Her eyes flicked down to the hideous shirt again, "I am not wearing that."

"Wh- But-" He frowned, his eyes flicking from the shirt she was already wearing to the one in his hand, "Blue and orange. It's the colors of the Mets."

Her heart sank at the sound of his dejected voice and she sighed, "That's all you have?"

He pursed his lips and peered into his backpack again, shuffling a few textbooks around, "Oh, oh, wait-" He pulled another wrinkled bundle of fabric from the bottom of the bag and Amber ripped it from his hands in a flash.

She shrugged the dirty flannel on over her own shirt and Stiles immediately reached out and attempted to smooth out some of the creases before he seemed to give up on the impossible task. Looking up at him with a smile, she found his gaze already on her and she couldn't help but flush under his attention with a quiet huff.

Stiles lifted his hand from where he had been pinching the fabric of the flannel in an aborted motion a couple of times before settling his palm over her cheek and leaning in slowly. She sat still as he drew closer and only when his lips ghosted against hers did she finally push forward into his space, joining their mouths together more firmly with a contented sigh.

"Skating!" Scott's voice called out suddenly, jolting the two apart, "This date is for skating! You guys can makeout at home later."

Amber scrunched her nose at her friend in irritation as he passed by before she stood up and reached a hand back toward Stiles blindly, "We will!" She called out petulantly at Scott's retreating back, "A lot!"

Scott and Allison's laughter was loud as they moved to one of the openings to the rink, preparing to go out onto the ice.

"A lot, huh?" Stiles questioned, mouth startlingly close to Amber's ear.

She flinched at the feeling of his warm breath and looked back at him. Her eyes traced slowly over the freckles over his cheeks before determinedly focussing on the warm brown pools of his eyes.

"That was the plan," She revealed with a grin, pulling him toward the ice with wobbly steps as she balanced on the blades of her skates, "Why, do you have any objections?" She asked over her shoulder.

"Nope. No objections. Not a one." He said quickly as he trailed behind her.

She turned to face him and shuffled back, until she was standing with the blades of her skates on the ice while Stiles stood a step beyond the edge of the rink.

"Good." She said quietly, leaning forward until their lips were nearly touching. Her mouth hovered just out of his reach and when he tilted his head forward to catch her lips, she let her skates carry her back a few inches to glide along the ice, "C'mon, Stiles!" She laughed gleefully, "This date is for skating, after all-"

He protested loudly as the distance between them increased and he moved to follow her immediately, stepping onto the ice and kicking off with one foot to rush in her direction. Her eyes widened when she saw him speeding toward her and she squealed quietly just as his arms wrapped around her to pull her into his chest while they continued backwards.

"You're a menace." He scolded as they slowed to a stop.

She giggled and remained in the warmth of his arms for a minute before slipping out of his grip and skating a few feet away with a grin.

"Wait, wait, Amber-" He reached toward her as she slid away.

"Scott!" Allison's voice suddenly yelled in panic.

Amber turned at the sound of the other girl's alarm and only managed to catch a blur of Scott's green shirt before he was colliding with her painfully. They seemed to spin for a long second before falling and the two managed to land with Amber sprawled across Scott's stomach, both of them hitting the ice with a yell of surprise.

"Sorry," Scott apologized weakly, "I don't think I'm very good at this."

Amber pushed up onto her elbows on the ice and looked back at him over her shoulder, "I caught on to that fact, believe it or not."

"Scott!" Allison's voice came again, closer this time.

"I'm okay." Scott promised breathlessly, still laying down flat on his back.

There were hands suddenly at Amber's waist as she tried to push up off of her friend and she glanced back as Stiles hooked his fingers into the belt loops on her jeans to pull her to her feet.

"You looked like you hit your head that time." Allison worried as she helped Scott up.

"What's that, Coach?" Scott asked in feigned confusion.

Amber laughed, allowing herself to be pulled away on her skates by Stiles' hand in hers. He dragged her to the other side of the rink and as they slowed, he released her hand. He turned her to face him head on and carefully guided her to skate backwards until her back hit the wall with a soft thump.

"Hi." She breathed, heart fluttering at the warmth of his chest against hers as he pressed her back into the wall.

"You okay?" He questioned, hand coming up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear as his other tightened incrementally around her hip.

"I'm fine," She couldn't help but whisper in their close proximity, "My hands are really cold now though- From touching the ice."

Stiles leaned back a only few inches but she found herself frowning at the increased space between their bodies as he reached down to take her hands into his. He enveloped her smaller hands in his palms and blew a warm breath into his cupped hands. He pulled in another deep breath before exhaling warm air over their hands once again, eyes flicking back and forth between hers slowly as he breathed heat into her chilled fingers.

"Better?" He asked, still holding her hands between their chests.

She nodded silently, not trusting her voice as her eyes focussed on the soft plushness of his lips. She leaned her weight more heavily against the wall behind her, her head thumping back against the plexiglass with a quiet thud as she looked up at him.

She swallowed, "How, um. How long do you reckon we skate?" She questioned, aiming for casual, "Like.. An hour? Longer?"

He studied her face slowly for a moment before responding, "Yeah, I- Probably like an hour or so. Why?"

"Just," She paused anxiously, "Thinking about the plan for, y'know, after."

"The pla-" He blinked suddenly and looked at her with scrutiny, "The plan we were just talking about? The uh.. The one you just mentioned to Scott?"

She nodded slowly, her heart already picking up in her chest excitedly in anticipation. She peeked around his shoulder and watched Scott nearly fall on his face again as Allison rushed to keep him upright.

Amber leaned her head back against the wall again and looked up at the boy in front of her. She licked her lips in contemplation and Stiles' eyes seemed to track the movement.

"I think Scott and Allison are a little preoccupied with keeping Scott's bones unbroken," She told him slowly, "I, um. I saw a photobooth on our way in if you wanted to maybe go and take a couple pictures."

"Yeah, we can do that." He agreed easily, confused at her apparent nerves.

"I wouldn't mind a couple photo strips of us, y'know, kissing." She continued.

"We can definitely do that." He amended, already grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind him in the direction of where they'd stepped out onto the ice in the first place.

Stiles stumbled the moment he stepped off of the ice and Amber laughed as he continued to drag her toward the picture booth. When they got to the stall, he pulled the curtain to the side and urged her to climb inside first. She slid across the tiny bench seat and looked at him excitedly as he sat down beside her.

"Okay," She grinned, leaning forward and squinting at the buttons surrounding the large camera lens at the front of the space, "So, how do we-"

Two fingers pressed into her jaw, turning her head so that Stiles could cover her mouth with his as his other hand reached around to slam down over the largest button blindly.

He opened his mouth on only the second soft press of their lips and grazed his tongue over her lips softly as the first flash went off behind their closed eyes. Her brain finally caught up and she brought a hand to grip at his neck, his hand falling away from her face to drag her closer by her waist.

The second flash went off.

He tightened his grip around her lower back, hand flattening to spread out over the flannel she was wearing, his fingers pressing into the curve of her spine. She groaned softly against his tongue, her leg instinctively coming up to drape over his knee in the cramped space as she tried to get closer.

There was another click of a flash and it was then that she remembered there were pictures being taken at all. She pulled back just enough that she could gaze at Stiles, her vision slightly blurred from their close proximity. His eyes were still closed, long eyelashes downcast over his cheekbones. He brushed his nose against hers softly just as the final flash lit up the booth.

She leaned back another few inches and he finally cracked his eyes open to look at her in confusion.

"The first set of pictures is over." She told him, licking her lips and feeling a flutter in her stomach when she tasted the remnants of his mouth on her own.

He turned his head toward the camera as if he'd also forgotten it was there, "I guess we should do another one then."

He was reaching toward the button again but she pulled his hand back, "Wait, wait."

"What's wrong?"

"I just, I wanna take a few cute ones first. Before we get too.. Distracted." She explained.

He smiled and nodded, pressing his hand down on the button before wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pulling her into his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and she bit down on her lower lip against a smile as the flash went off.

She reached for his hand where it was draped around her shoulder to tangle his fingers around the backs of hers, using her new grip to curl his arm tighter around her neck until she could reach to bite down softly on his wrist. The camera flashed just as Stiles looked down at her in mock outrage.

He retaliated quickly, untangling their hands so that he could poke his fingers into her waist beneath her flannel. Her whole body jolted as he started to tickle her sides and her butt came up off of the bench as she squirmed to get away, head thrown back against his shoulder as she laughed loudly.

As soon as the flash went off, he stopped tickling her and chuckled as she breathed heavily in recovery. She tilted her head against his shoulder and peered up at him in adoration. Stiles moved to look down at her to see what she was planning for the next photo to but she leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw and stopped the movement of his head. His smile was soft and pleased smile and his cheek dimpled adorably as the flash lit up the booth again.

He finally tipped his head to look at her and their noses brushed softly. It felt eerily reminiscent of their first — apparently second — kiss the night they'd gotten drunk on Jack Daniels in the woods. Their lips brushed softly but this time instead of panicking, she turned and slotted their lips together easily. She reached up to fist her hand in the front of his sweatshirt and parted her lips against his just enough that she could taste his next exhale as the fifth flash went off.

"One more?" He asked against her mouth, his words slipping into her open mouth intoxicatingly.

"Uh huh." She told him quietly, pulling his lips back down against hers.

She didn't watch, but she heard the quiet slaps of his hand fumbling around for the button before it clicked in indication that he'd managed to find it. His arm wrapped around her waist quickly, his other hand pressing into the wall of the booth behind her as he crowded her back and leaned into her space. When his tongue brushed her lip questioningly, she barely had to think before she was tilting her head and opening her mouth in acceptance.

The first flash went off and the click of it seemed to spur Stiles on, his arm tightening around her back for only a second before he reached down to tug her thigh back over his again, the way it had been in the first set of pictures. She let her knee curve around his lap, her calf draped between his legs as their heads tilted in opposite directions, tongues meeting again and again hungrily.

At the second flash, she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled herself that much closer, nearly in his lap as she straddled just one of his thighs while Stiles slid to the edge of the seat to angle his body toward her in the cramped space. She pulled back just enough that she pulled in his next exhale through her lips. She looked down at his mouth with hooded eyes, fingertips reaching between them to brush over his lips in a light touch just as the camera flashed again.

He retook her mouth with his as soon as the picture snapped and she parted her lips for his tongue immediately, groaning quietly into his mouth. His hand at her waist dipped to grab a handful of her ass through her jeans and she moaned more openly, head falling back from the kiss as her arm tightened around his neck.

The camera flashed over her blissful expression and her mouth was back on his in a frantic rush. Their tongues met between kisses again and she tightened her leg over his thigh as she pulled him closer. Her knee brushed against the growing bulge beneath his jeans as she pulled herself against him and this time it was Stiles whose head dropped back from the kiss. His jaw went slack when her leg pressed firmly against him and it was at that glorious moment that the final flash lit up the booth.

"Sorry." She apologized in a whisper as soon as she realized what she'd done. She loosened her leg from around him and sat beside him again.

He took a deep breath, his hand finally dropping down from the wall behind her head. His fingers combed through her long hair in silent forgiveness and he thunked the side of his head against the back of the booth as he looked over at her.

"Do you wanna go back out and skate?" He asked after a minute looking at her softly and regaining his breath.

"Yeah." She agreed, "Are you.. Good? To go back out?" She asked cautiously, eyes flicking down to his lap in question.

He huffed out a laugh, "I'm about as good as I'm gonna get with you sitting next to me, if I'm being honest. If anything, it'll be easier when we're back out on the ice and it's cold and you're mouth isn't two inches away."

"Who said my mouth won't be two inches away on the ice?" She asked teasingly, leaning closer to brush her lips over his.

"Alright, let's go-" Stiles said, the warmth of his body very suddenly no longer against her.

He stood from the photobooth, extending a hand to help her out that she accepted begrudgingly. Once they stepped out of the stall, Amber's eyes caught on the tiny cubby in the side and the three photo strips that laid inside.

"Oh!" She exclaimed excitedly, reaching for the pictures and pulling them up in front of her face as she examined them closely.

Stiles pressed his chest to her back and peered over her shoulder as she began to flip through the strips.

The first was relatively innocent pictures of them kissing, only able to see the hint of tongues in one or two of them if you looked close enough.

The second made her stomach flutter. They were sickeningly adorable. Snapshots of them pressed close together happily, flirting, laughing — the final picture catching their mouths hovering just a breath away from a kiss.

The third strip was what gave her pause. The first two photos were the two of them kissing hungrily as they pulled one another closer. The third, a small break from the heaviness as it captured Amber's fingertips brushing softly over the softness of Stiles' lips. But the final two pictures were practically softcore porn. Her eyes barely skimmed over photo number four, the way her head had been thrown back in arousal. Instead, her attention was immediately drawn to the final picture. Stiles' head lolled against the wall, lips parted in a silent moan, cheeks visibly flushed, eyes closed — All with his arm still propped up behind Amber's head while she looked at him in awe from only a breath away.

As they studied the third and final set of pictures, Stiles made a small sound into her ear from behind her.

"Dibs!" She said quickly, pressing the third strip to her chest protectively.

"No, no, no," He disagreed instantly, "No way, you can't just call dibs on the hottest one."

"Well, it's too late, because I already did." She grinned in satisfaction.

"And what if I wanted that one?" He asked incredulously.

"If you wanted the hottest one, I guess you should've called dibs or something." She told him easily.

He was on her in a second, arms wrapping around her from behind as he quickly pulled the photostrip in question from her hands and held it above his head where she couldn't reach it.

"Hey, no!" She whined as she spun around to face him, wrapping an arm around his neck and reaching up toward his extended hand in vain, "You can't use your height against me! I called dibs!"

"I'm sorry but I need these pictures for very important personal reasons." Stiles said, trying not to laugh as she attempted to pull herself higher up to reach his hand.

"No way. You don't get to keep them just because you want them as jerk-off material. Maybe I want to jerk off to them, too-" She argued, "Did you ever think of that?"

"That's not what I- Well, okay, yeah- But-" He tried to deny before realizing it was a moot point.

Very suddenly, she stopped trying to get the pictures back and wrapped both of her arms around his neck instead. She remained chest to chest with him, her breasts pressing against him through the thin fabric of his tshirt as she narrowed her eyes.

He made a quiet noise of either arousal or confusion and she moved to drag her nose along the ridge of his jaw, pressing her lips lightly to his skin as she moved further up toward his ear.

"Stiles, please?" She asked softly, lips brushing against the shell of his ear before she dropped to press a couple of soft kisses to the side of his neck.

"Wh- That's not fair. You can't do that." He protested weakly, elbow dropping just slightly where he was holding the photostrip above them.

Her lips dragged back along his jaw, pressing a kiss to his chin and the corner of his mouth before hovering above his lips.

"Can't do what?" She questioned slowly, blinking at him innocently as she licked her lips, her tongue managing to brush lightly over Stiles' own lips as she did so.

He made another pained noise, arm lowering distractedly again, "Can't use sex against me when we haven't done sex-like things yet."

"You're right," She agreed easily, "What if instead, you just let me have the pictures?"

"That doesn't really feel like you're agreeing with me," He laughed against her mouth, "But what if I hold onto them so I can scan them onto my laptop, and then I let you have them?"

She leaned back with a frown, "Scan them? Why didn't you just say that before?" She loosened her arms around his neck and looked at him with less blur obstructing his features.

"If I'd said that before, you wouldn't be clinging on to me quite so desperately." He grinned, letting his arm fall and stuffing the pictures into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Now who's the menace?" She glared at him playfully.

"Hey!" Scott's voice sounded out suddenly from behind her, "Are you guys done in the photobooth? Allison and I want to take some pictures."

Amber turned her head toward where Scott and Allison were making their way over stockingfoot, skates already pulled off.

"All yours, buddy." Stiles assured him, hand dropping onto Amber's hip.

"Sweet!" Scott said excitedly, pulling the curtain open and letting Allison slide in first, "Oh, gross!"

"What?" Amber, Allison, and Stiles all questioned.

"Guys, seriously? It reeks in here." Scott said with a wince.

"I don't smell anything." Allison said in confusion.

"I can't let your wolfy-nose control my whole life, Scott." Amber laughed, "Sorry."

"Ugh," Scott grimaced, "I knew I'd regret you two getting together at some point, I just didn't realize it would be so soon."

"Sorry, man." Stiles shrugged, "You're probably gonna have to get used to it."

Scott frowned and pulled the curtain closed, cutting himself and Allison off from his best friends.

"I seriously don't smell anything," Allison repeated, "Is it that bad?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Scott said quietly.

Amber laughed and released Stiles completely before moving back over toward the ice rink, "You still wanna skate for a few minutes?" She asked, hesitating at the edge.

Stiles grabbed her hand and pulled her back onto the ice where they skated a slow lap around the rink with their fingers intertwined. She slowed after a while and skated around him in a circle, stopping at his back. She reached her hands to his waist from behind and locked her fingers into the belt loops at his hips.

"Pull me," She prompted, pressing her face into the soft hood of his sweatshirt.

He chuckled but obeyed her request, skating forward slowly and dragging her along as she stood behind him, pressed to his back. They looped around for a few minutes before she loosened her grip and let herself fall back as Stiles continued forward.

When he noticed the absence of her warmth behind him, he turned on his skates and made his way back over, coming to a stop in front of her. He reached out to fix the collar of her borrowed flannel, pulling it up closer to the cool skin of her neck, and her stomach fluttered at the soft thoughtful gesture.

She fiddled with the long sleeves where they hung down over her palms for a moment before reaching out to stick her hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and skating backwards at a slow speed, pulling him along with her.

He looked at her curiously but didn't question as she continued backward, slowing to a crawl but still moving blindly until her back thumped softly against the plexiglass wall at the edge of the rink.

"What's up?" He asked softly, letting his skates cage her in with his feet on either side of hers.

"Was just thinking." She told him vaguely, a small smile pulling at her lips.

"Oh no," He joked, raising his eyebrows, "That doesn't sound good. What were you thinking about?"

She shrugged casually, "You."

He smiled, "Oh, well that's okay then. What about me?"

"Mm," She hummed noncommittally, "Mostly your mouth."

Stiles tried not to show the slight surprise on his face, "My mouth, huh?" He asked smugly.

"Mhm," She nodded, "A real smart mouth. Very annoying. Always talking absolute shit-"

"Hey!" He said in offense.

"-Instead of kissing me." She finished with a sly smile.

He faltered for a moment. His mouth dropped open as if he had a retort ready before he seemed to think better of it and instead cupped her cheek to bring their lips together.

"Hey, uh, we're gonna head out." Scott's voice called out from the edge of the rink, standing hand in hand with Allison with an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

Amber thumped her head back against the wall for a brief second before grabbing Stiles' hand and skating back over toward their friends.

"We, uh. We're probably gonna head out too." Amber revealed, stepping off of the ice and wobbling slightly on her skates.

Scott nodded, pinching his lips together in a tight, amused line, "Uh huh. I bet you are."

"Yup." She nodded with a laugh, "We are. I just said that." She shoved past her best friend with a hand on his chest as she continued to pull Stiles behind her, "Don't be so smug. It's not like we don't all know exactly what you and Allison are leaving to go do in the privacy of her car."

Allison blushed and Scott's smile shifted into something more soft, "Yeah, okay." He settled, pulling on Allison's hand gently, "See you guys later."

"Later." Stiles and Amber called back.

Amber pulled off her skates and tugged her sneakers back on quickly before looking up at Stiles who appeared to have already done the same.

"So, uh.. Are we- We going to my place?" Stiles asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"My brother's home for the night so.." She said slowly.

"Yeah, definitely my place."

"Yeah." She nodded.

"What the hell are we waiting for then?" He asked, grabbing both sets of skates in one arm and snatching her hand with the other, pulling her back toward the front of the building.

She laughed at his eagerness and just managed to grab his backpack from the floor, fighting to keep up with his long strides as they locked up the rink and just about ran to the vehicle.

When they got to the Stilinski house, Stiles' father's cruiser was regrettably already parked in the driveway and Stiles audibly groaned.

"He's worked late every night for the last two weeks but on the night of our first date, he's home by nine? Seriously?" He lamented, slamming the driver's side door of the Jeep shut.

Amber laughed, closing her own door and pulling her duffle bag onto her shoulder before she rounded the Jeep to meet him at the front hood.

"Oh, it'll be fine." She told him, leaning up onto her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before turning to head inside. When they stepped through the front door, Amber slipped off her sneakers into the small pile of shoes underneath the coat rack. "Hi, Mr. Stilinski." She greeted when she spotted the man watching television on the couch in the living room.

"Hey," He greeted back, "Have you kids seen this movie? It's got the guy from Star-something and Denzel Washington."

"I can't say I have." Stiles told him, peering at the screen as they stepped further into the house.

The Sheriff picked up the remote beside him and squinted at the buttons before he paused the action on the screen, "There's this train and- Well I don't want to give it away, but it's good. I can start it over if you two want to-"

"Oh, uh. Sorry, pops." Stiles said awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, "We.. Were already gonna watch something else."

"Oh," His dad said quickly, throwing the blanket beside him over the back of the couch, "Do you guys want to watch it down here on the tv? I can finish this tomorr-"

"Actually," Amber interrupted softly this time, "I have the movie downloaded on my computer, so." She patted her hand against her laptopless duffle bag, "We'll have to watch it on there anyway. You can finish your movie on the tv."

Stiles dropped his hand heavily onto her shoulder in relief and nodded in enthusiastic agreement, "Yup! So, we'll be watching a movie up there, and you can watch your train movie down here." He repeated again unnecessarily, "Cool. Right, so. Let's go."

His hand wrapped around Amber's wrist in a firm grip and he pulled her around the corner and up the stairs before she could say another word. They stumbled through the door to his bedroom and Amber dropped her duffle bag down onto the ground beside the bookshelf.

She gnawed on her lower lip, suddenly anxious, and her fingers picked at the soft edges of the flannel sleeves hanging down over her hands as Stiles threw the door shut with just a touch too much enthusiasm considering how loud the resulting slam was.

"Oops." He said simply, eyes focussed intently on the girl in front of him as he swallowed nervously.

They both seemed to take a deep, grounding breath at the same time and when their exhales lined up in a loud huff of air in the quiet room, they laughed quietly.

"Why is this suddenly, like, nerve-wrackingly awkward?" She questioned.

"Do- would you rather put on an actual movie or something?" He asked immediately, "I can set up my laptop and-"

She stepped forward in a quick movement, "No, no, I still want to- Not watch a movie." She assured him, licking her lips with a nervous laugh, "I'm just not sure how to.. Start."

He smiled in relief and stepped closer, his hand sliding along the side of her neck softly. His brown eyes flicked back and forth between hers attentively as he leaned closer, giving her plenty of time to pull back if she'd wanted to. When their mouths met, it was like her nerves finally fell away and she threw herself into the kiss fervently.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she drew herself up against him as they kissed. He continued to hold her neck gently, thumb skirting up to brush under her jaw through the blur of their mouths separating and meeting again tenderly.

Neither one of them even noticed that they'd been moving in slow steps until the backs of Stiles' legs bumped against the edge of the bed. He pulled back slightly from the kiss to look behind him before looking back up at her questioningly.

"Should we-?"

"Yeah." She nodded immediately, pushing gently at his chest until he complied.

He climbed back and sat with his legs out in front of him in the center of the bed and she paused to take him in for a moment before Stiles laughed and held his hand out in offering. She accepted and quickly crawled across the blankets to straddle his knees awkwardly, unsure how close she was meant to get or how quickly she was meant to do it.

Stiles didn't seem to notice her nerves and instead leaned forward in a smooth movement and brought their lips back together with his right hand firmly cupping the left side of her face. She moved to kneel further up around his legs until she settled over the tops of his thighs, gripping onto his shoulders as she tilted her head to meet his lips in another kiss.

She opened her mouth against his and his own lips parted quickly to slip his tongue through the opening to slide against hers. She groaned quietly into his mouth at the taste of him and pushed at his shoulders to lay him back against the mattress.

As he settled onto his back, he shuffled slightly against the bed to get into a comfortable position and she was jostled until she was left straddling his waist. She pulled back from the kiss for just a moment, already feeling warmth pricking beneath her skin. He looked up at her curiously while she slipped out of the flannel she had on over her long sleeved shirt, tossing it over the side of the bed. He followed suit and leaned up to pull his zip-up off, rolling it into a ball and throwing it behind her before quickly laying back down.

He brought a hand up to her face again and pulled her down to recapture her lips. His left hand went to her waist and as their tongues brushed hotly again, his forearm tightened around her lower back and pulled her down against him, the seam of her jeans pressing up against her clit to send a sharp pang ecstasy down her spine. She gasped lightly against his mouth and rocked her hips back down against his without any further encouragement.

They both released quiet, hungry noises into one another's mouths at the friction between them and she continued the slow roll of her hips through open-mouthed kisses. On a particularly rough brush of the seam of her jeans against her underwear, she tightened her fingers around the backs of his shoulders and sighed against his mouth. She ground her hips down again and again as she tried to replicate the motion.

An indiscernible amount of time passed, their mouths and tongues meeting, her hips rolling down against him. She felt herself growing increasingly hot from both arousal and exertion but didn't stop, couldn't stop, her groin grinding down almost unconsciously as they continued to trade passionate kisses.

Stiles dropped his left arm from her back to gripped supportively at her hip instead, fingertips digging in as he followed the movements of her body against him. His right thumb brushed over her cheek the next time her lips parted and he tilted his chin up to meet her mouth that much more firmly, hunger evident in his kiss.

The next time she ground down in a slow roll of her hips, he groaned into her mouth and the needy noise sent a sharp spark of arousal straight between her thighs. She kissed him again and rolled her hips down against his just a touch harder in an attempt to get the friction she was desperately craving beneath her own jeans. As she ground down, he moaned again, high in the back of his throat, and his body tensed beneath her, his hand left tightening on her hip as his mouth fell slack under hers.

She pulled back from the kiss, her lips hovering a breath away from his as her gaze raked over his face. His eyes were pinched shut and he huffed out a sharp breath from his open mouth while he tugged desperately at her waist again, pulling her down against him as his hips lifted from the mattress to press up into her.

He made another soft noise, his whole body jerking once more, and she could do little more than simply look down at him in awe. She was nearly sure if she looked down between them, she'd find a wet patch at the front of his jeans and she was thrilled. Amazed. She'd never been more proud of an accomplishment in her entire life.

She slid a hand from his shoulder to rest along his sharp jaw, her thumb rubbing softly over his flushed cheek. Stiles was so beautiful. He was handsome, sure. But he was also so unbelievably beautiful.

Her eyes mapped his face slowly. They traced over the light splotches of pink currently coloring his cheeks, the long length of his dark eye lashes, the plush cupid's bow of his upper lip, the perfect slope of his nose.

She silently allowed him to recover, watching him take in shaky breaths for a long minute before he spoke.

"Oh god." He finally groaned, dropping his right hand from her cheek and pushing his head as far back into the mattress beneath him as he could, like he could somehow sink into it and disappear, "No, no, no, no, I can't believe I just did that. Oh god-"

His sudden reaction surprised her, "Stiles. Hey, what's wrong?" She asked worriedly, hand still cupping his face gently.

"Wha- I just-" A whine crawled up his throat in embarrassment, eyes still pinched shut, "Fuck! I actually have you in my bed and I just- I came. In my pants."

"Why is that a bad thing?" She whispered cautiously, sliding her hand to the back of his neck and gently scraping her blunt fingernails into the buzzed hair at the base of his skull.

"Why is it-" Stiles stuttered, "Are you joking? This is so embarrassing- I- I'm actually gonna die. I'm gonna die of- Of embarrassment. I can't-"

Her anxious heartbeat settled in her chest, "Stiles," She interrupted, "Will you look at me? Please?"

He scrunched his face up tightly, like he didn't really want to obey her request, but he slowly did it anyway. His eyes fluttered open and she looked between the warm whiskey pools slowly.

"Stiles?" She whispered into the narrow sliver of space between their faces.

"Yeah?" He asked dejectedly.

She leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to hover over him again, "That." She started seriously, "Was. Insanely. Hot." She pressed her lips to his in quick kisses for emphasis between each word.

"Me? Jizzing in my pants?" He clarified in disbelief.

She nodded slowly, "Stiles. Literally nothing has ever turned me on more than what just happened." She admitted quietly.

He continued to look up at her in disbelief for a moment before he was reaching up to cup the back of her head and pulling her mouth down against his, their lips slotting back together seamlessly. She couldn't help the small unconscious grind of her hips against his and he pulled back from her with a deep breath.

"As much as I don't want to leave the position we're currently in. Like, ever-" He started, dropping to rest both of his hands back over her hips again, "I need just, like, thirty seconds tops-"

"What for?" She questioned.

"I really need to change my pants." He admitted with a wince.

She rolled off of him quickly, "Oh god, yeah. Of course you do. Sorry."

He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, "Just- Close your eyes? Give me half a sec-"

She reached up to cover her eyes immediately, readjusting from sitting back on her knees to sit criss-cross on the mattress. She listened to the sounds of him shuffling around the room, likely removing his pants and digging around in the dresser to find something else to wear.

It was only a few more seconds before she was blindly tackled onto her back on the bed, landing with a squeak of surprise underneath Stiles' body. She removed her hands from her eyes and looked up in the newly darkened room to see him grinning down at her, his cheeks dimpling with his smile.

She laughed, "I wouldn't have minded a little bit of warning."

He grinned wider, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips, "Sor-"

"Stiles!" They both flinched in surprise as Sheriff Stilinski's voice called out from the other side of the closed bedroom door, "Amber! I'm heading to bed!"

"'Kay, dad-" Stiles called out wide eyed.

"Good Night-" Amber called out weakly.

The sound of his dad's footsteps retreating down the hall faded slowly before the Sheriff's bedroom door clicked shut and they both let out a breath.

Amber's gaze dropped to Stiles' attire and she shifted on the bed nervously. The same black tshirt he'd been wearing all day stretched across his shoulders, he'd removed his jeans and changed his boxers, but he hadn't bothered with any sort of pants to go over them.

His weight dropped against her a bit more and his fingers brushed a strand of hair back out of her face in the dark, "On a scale of one to ten, how much did that interruption just turn you off?" He asked with a dejected sigh.

"Um," She focused on the heavy warmth of his weight settled on top of her and she took a breath before responding, "Not much, to be honest. Maybe only two."

"Two?" He repeated, sounding relieved, "Great! Cool, okay-"

His eyes flicked slowly between hers before he leaned down to press their mouths together again. He rested a hand over her hip, the fabric of her shirt bunching up as his fingers dragged against the bare skin of her abdomen. Her stomach fluttered and she reached up to the back of his neck to pull him closer, spreading her legs and allowing him to settle in between them on his knees.

His left hand slipped a little bit further beneath her shirt to simply rest along her ribcage and the gentle caress of his fingers over her skin had excitement twisting in her gut as they kissed. The movement of his hand only paused for a few seconds before he cautiously inched it up a bit more, the tips of his fingers brushing the underwire of her bra.

"This okay?" He questioned against her lips.

She lifted her free hand up from the bed and brought her fingers to gently encircle his elbow before guiding him up another few inches in silent consent. His hand cupped her breast over the thin cotton of her bra, the feeling entirely new and thrilling for the both of them, and it had them both huffing out a quiet breath into the space between their mouths.

He tightened the fingers of his left hand experimentally, squeezing her breast in a soft grip, and her back arched on reflex as she pressed up into his hand. His mouth captured hers again and he readjusted his hand to brush his thumb over the soft skin at the top of her bra.

When he parted from the kiss to take a breath after a few minutes, he let his right hand trail in the opposite direction until his knuckles dragged over the waistband of her jeans. Her stomach tightened in nervous anticipation and she opened her eyes to find Stiles already looking down at her in the dark.

"Is it okay If I-?" He questioned softly, his fingertips skating distractingly against the sensitive skin of her bare stomach.

She took a nervous breath and nodded, "Yeah."

He pulled back a fraction to look down at her pants in the dark and his left hand retreated from her chest as his fingers moved pinch at the top of the denim. After a few seconds watching him fumble, Amber reached down, her fingers brushing over his as she undid the button herself.

Once her jeans were open, they both paused for a moment before Stiles was jumping back into action, tugging at the material and easing it down a few inches. She lifted her hips from the mattress and helped him slide her pants down until the jeans were tossed in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

Once they were gone, his attention seemed to get stuck on her underwear-clad lower half and she pushed up onto her elbows anxiously. She saw the moment that his eyes caught on the place where Kate had dragged a sharp blade into the flesh of her lower stomach. He reached his right hand out to rest on her left hip once again and his thumb traced lightly over the fresh pink scar across the side of her abdomen, his touch gentle and brimming with care.

She watched him stroke his thumb back and forth over her skin and she took a slow breath as she fought to work up some nerve. She exhaled in a slow puff through her lips and finally sat up just enough that she could tug her rucked up shirt over her head entirely. The action seemed to draw his attention upward and he stared at her in the dimly lit room for a long moment, eyes now stuck on her bra-clad chest.

"They match." He observed quietly, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her nearly naked body, gaze flicking back and forth as if he couldn't decide which article of her underwear he wanted to look at more.

"I didn't want to be presumptuous and assume that something would happen after the date, but also.. I- I was really hoping something would happen after the date." She admitted, squirming and looking down at the matching dark green pieces nervously.

"It's- You look.." He blew out a breath and nodded to himself, the compliment left unfinished as his eyes continued to trace the curves of her breasts.

"The silent staring is kind of making me nervous." She admitted quietly, readjusting to lean back onto her elbows.

"Sorry." He said quickly, leaning over her to give her a quick apologetic kiss.

Before he could pull away again, she dropped onto her back and reached up to hold his face to hers, kissing him harder. He met her efforts halfway and settled between her legs again as their mouths moved against one another in an easy, already nearly perfected rhythm.

It was only another couple of minutes of trading deep kisses before his hand made the slow trail back down her body. The gentle caress as he dragged it lower had her cunt clenching with nervous excitement. His hand continued on past her belly and skimmed against the thin fabric of her underwear this time. When his fingertips hooked lightly beneath the waistband, her hips reflexively lifted up off of the mattress toward him, her mouth falling away from the kiss distractedly.

His lips brushed featherlight over hers due to their close proximity, not quite firm enough to be an actual kiss, as his hand dove just a little bit deeper into her underwear. She let out a quiet noise as his fingers moved lower and traced over her softly, applying only the lightest bit of pressure as he curiously touched her. She felt him let out a soft breath over her mouth in what she assumed to be nervousness just before his two of his fingers pressed a touch more firmly and slipped down between her open thighs.

When the action caused his fingers to spread her wet folds, she released another soft whine against his mouth. The noise seemed to spur him on and the next second, one of his long fingers was entering her slowly. She moaned just a little bit louder as his finger moved in and out in a slow, exploratory motion.

"Shh," He hushed softly against her lips, "You're gonna have to be quieter than that."

She nodded against the mattress, "Sorry." She said breathlessly against his lips, nose brushing against his as she tipped her chin to peck him on the mouth.

He began to thrust his finger in and out just a little bit deeper as his eyes flicked between hers, "This okay?"

"Mhm," She agreed quietly, lifting her hips again to better the angle of his hand, "Maybe, could you- Two?"

He didn't respond verbally but another finger quickly slipped in alongside the first. She gasped quietly at the thickness of his knuckles dragging against her walls and slid her hands around to the back of his neck. He thrust his fingers in and out in a slow motion and she brought his lips back down against hers desperately.

He continued fucking into her, the thickness and depth of his fingers both so much more — so much better — than her own.

Eventually, she pulled her mouth from his to take a deep breath. It felt amazing, incredible, but she couldn't help the pang in her gut that insisted she needed something more.

"C'you just-" She took a slow breath, "C'you curl your fingers, like, up and-"

Stiles followed her instruction before she could even finish the request, her words cutting off as he immediately managed to find the spot she'd been indicating. She moaned quietly at the feeling of the pads of his fingers pressing against the soft bundle of nerves inside of her and her hand slipped from his neck to his shoulder to grip onto him tightly.

"God." She whispered when he curled his fingers tighter, pressing against the spot inside of her just a bit more confidently, "Just- Just keep.. rubbing, like-" He began to rub the pads of his fingers against the spot in a slow come-hither motion and she arched her back as she took a gasping breath, "Yeah. Like that. You're- 's really good. You're excellent at.. Following directions. A Plus."

Stiles huffed a quiet laugh at her rambling and moved to kiss her again as he skillfully continued the motion of his fingers inside of her. The change in angle as he leaned forward to capture her mouth had his hand cupping her cunt tight beneath her underwear. As he continued to finger her, the addition of the pressure of his palm now dragging against her clit had her thighs beginning to shake as she edged toward an orgasm already.

"Oh, my god-" She murmured quietly against his lips, "I'm- Please don't change anything I'm-"

He did as he was instructed again, attentively and deliberately continuing to do exactly what he was doing. The friction of his palm rubbing against her clit while he relentlessly massaged the same bundle of nerves from inside of her had her face growing hot as a slow fog crept into her head.

She unintentionally let out another desperate noise and Stiles reached up to press the palm of his free hand lightly over her mouth as he shushed her again. The pressure of his hand covering her mouth made her release another small muffled moan against his palm.

"You okay if I keep my hand here?" He asked apprehensively, his eyes flicking between hers before dropping to the hand pressed over her mouth, his other hand continuing to finger-fuck her diligently.

She pursed her lips against the inside of his hand, nearly positive that she'd never been so turned on, not a day in her entire life.

She took in a shaky breath through her nose before nodding silently. She was so close she felt as if her vision was beginning to blur at the edges, her thighs beginning to tremble with her steadily building climax.

Stiles flexed the hand inside of her — for just a moment — to lessen the sore cramping from the repetitive motion of his fingers, resuming only a second later. And instead of ruining the progress toward her climax, the pressure of his palm pressing back down over her clit when he started up again sent her hurtling over the edge.

Her hand slipped down his back and she raked her hands over the fabric of his shirt desperately as her head fell back in pleasure. Her eyes clenched shut and her mouth went slack with a soft, drawn out moan beneath the palm of his left hand. Her hips twitched with each slow wave of the orgasm, continuing on and on when he didn't slow the caress of his fingers the way that she would have if she'd been pleasuring herself.

The hand over her mouth loosened cautiously before sliding to cup her cheek and she gasped a deep breath, her head clearing slightly at the tail end of the extraordinarily long orgasm.

"Okay," She whispered quietly, her body jerking again at the motion his fingers were still making inside of her. She couldn't hold back another quiet whine, "Okay that's-"

She reached down to gently tug at his arm until he got the message and withdrew his fingers. He slowly slipped them out of her underwear entirely and hesitated for a moment before resting his slick hand over her hip and squeezing softly.

Her breathing was heavy, her ears filled with a distant quiet ringing from the sheer strength of her orgasm, and Stiles was looking at her in the dark, his eyes raking over her flushed face in a slow motion.

"God." She whispered, looking up at him in disbelief, "That was-"

He blinked, as if he wasn't one hundred percent sure that she was going to say something positive, and she reached up to pull his mouth down against hers in a bruising kiss. She deepened it after only a few seconds, brushing her tongue across his languidly a couple of times before falling back to rest her head against the mattress again.

"I guess it was okay?" He asked with a nervous grin as he looked down at her again, "Because I've never- I mean, I guess that was kind of obvious, right?"

She slid a hand to cup his neck softly, "I- It's never-" She started in a whisper, the ringing in her ears finally fading out until she could barely hear it, "And then you- It just kept going and- Stiles, I- I'm being so serious right now-"

He interrupted her incoherent rambling by leaning down to kiss her again, brushing a lock of her hair back and tucking it behind her ear softly. He quickly deepened the kiss and her arms wound tight around the back of his neck yet again.

Their tongues brushed languidly for a while before she began to feel the tingling heat of arousal building up inside of her again. Without really thinking, she brought her leg up to wrap around the back of his thighs to pull him against her and he tumbled down clumsily. Each of them made a surprised noise of pleasure into the other's mouth when the hard line of his clothed cock pressed against her.

His mouth opened back up against hers hungrily with their next kiss and she used the leverage granted by her leg wrapped around him to lift her hips from the mattress. Another quiet sound escaped both of them as she began to eagerly grind herself up against his erection. At the obvious encouragement, Stiles readjusted more comfortably and rolled his hips down against her.

She quickly moved to wrap both of her legs around him, her thighs spreading further with the action, and on the next roll of his hips, the firm line of his cock rubbed against her clit over her underwear. It was quite possibly the best thing that she'd ever felt and she found herself meeting each of his movements halfway.

He continued to rut against her, forearms braced on either side of her head, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. Her body flushed with heat with the slow build of her second orgasm and she tightened her arms around his shoulders as she separated their mouths.

"That feels. So good." She said quietly, gasping on his next soft grind against her clit.

"I don't wanna come in my pants again but, also-" He rolled his hips down again and again, "'M definitely gonna come in my pants again." He admitted with a soft groan.

"Don't worry-" She gently maneuvered herself until she could press her mouth to the side of his throat in a biting kiss, "Me too."

He groaned again — the pitch of it higher and more desperate and all the more intoxicating — while she continued to kiss at his neck wetly, "Is that, like. Y're gonna come soon, or-" His knees slipped against the bed and his hips rocked that much harder against her, "'Cause 'm gonna come like- Like, really soon-"

Her whole body was overheated, prickling and buzzing of her building climax growing stronger with every firm drag of his cock against her clothed clit, but she knew she wasn't nearly there yet — not like he was. She brushed her lips along his neck in a few more gentle kisses as he ground down in a shaky rhythm.

"Sti, 's okay." She assured him after a moment, words muffled against his throat.

He turned his head and groaned a soft, distressed noise into her hair, "But I don't- I want you to-"

"Hey," She said softly, dropping her head back down against the mattress beneath him. Her lips brushed against his as she continued, "It's okay."

She took his head in her hands softly, her fingertips digging into the short hair behind his ears while she ran her thumbs along his cheekbones. She pressed her lips to his again in a soft peck, feeling it when his hips faltered slightly in their rhythmic movements.

He groaned again quietly, "I- I wanna make you-" He started.

"You can make me come after," She promised softly, "Seriously, 's okay. Come." She kissed him again but frowned when she pulled back slightly to see his face scrunched up like he was desperately trying to do the opposite. "Mieczysław," She murmured against his lips, with the intent of catching him off guard.

She smiled in satisfaction when his eyes flew open to looked down at her in surprise.

"Just let go." She encouraged gently.

"Shit." He dropped his forehead against hers on the next irregular roll of his hips, "So hot. Y're so hot." He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, "Will you- C'n you say it again?" He asked against her mouth, words muffled.

"Come?" She asked softly, her eyes flicking between his in question, "I- Let go?"

"No, no." He shook his head, his face somehow managing to flush a darker tinge of pink, "Shit. C'n you- Just.. Say my n-"

"Mieczysław?" She asked quietly. Stiles groaned again and his hips stuttered against her intoxicatingly, "C'mon, Mieczysław, 's okay." She whispered softly against his lips, her confidence growing when she saw the borderline painful look of bliss on his face. The next time he rutted against her, the head of his cock rubbed against her clit dead on and she gasped in surprise at the jolt of pleasure that shot through her, the name already on the tip of her tongue, "Mieczysław." She moaned quietly this time.

"Holy, god." He groaned in response.

"Feels so good," She breathed softly into the small space between their mouths. On the next roll of his hips, he managed to hit the same spot again by what had to have been pure luck, his tip catching on her clit once again, "Meesch-" A sharp gasp cut her off, "Mieczysław." She tried again, the name rolling from her tongue in a quiet whine.

His hips stuttered against her, mouth falling against hers in a slackened press of lips as his body tensed and jerked above her. She tightened her legs around his backside and rolled her hips on the mattress, grinding up against his cock to make up for his lack of movement. She felt it twitch through the thin fabric between them as he came in his boxers, a hot wet patch forming in the fabric pressed against her cunt. She continued to rut against him as he rode out his orgasm, the waves of it obvious each time his hips stuttered as she kissed him softly.

He dropped his head to her collarbone, panting hot, labored breaths over her skin as he recovered. Unwinding her legs from him slowly, her legs bent and bracketed his hips. She slid her hands down to his neck, fingertips running softly up and down his shoulders and back as his breathing slowed.

After a minute, she felt Stiles rub his forehead against her shoulder before he tilted his head to press gentle kisses to the curve of her neck. He leaned up onto his elbow and dragged his mouth in a slow trail along the sensitive skin, his right hand drifting to rest along her ribcage, thumb rubbing gently at her breast through the cotton of her bra. His tongue came out to brush a spot on the side of her throat on an open mouthed kiss and her hands tightened unconsciously over his tshirt where she'd been rubbing at his shoulders.

"Think I might have a thing for my neck being kissed." She admitted breathlessly, tipping her head to the side to allow him better access.

"Yeah?" He mumbled in question against her skin, scraping his teeth lightly but not biting down.

"Yeah," She affirmed, "Which is really unfortunate because I think hickeys are-" She paused to gasp when he bit down on a small patch of skin and sucked, hard. "Tacky. I-I think hickeys are really tacky." She finished.

"Oh." He laughed into her neck, kissing the skin he'd been abusing softly in apology, "Sorry 'bout that then. Won't do any more."

"The kissing though, the kissing's really good-" She commented, closing her eyes and tipping her head again when he moved to the other side of her neck. He ran his nose softly up her throat as he peppered hot kisses to the newly exposed skin. "Definitely approve of the kissing." She breathed.

The hand at her ribcage drifted lower, until his thumb was teasing at the waistband of her underwear once again, hooking beneath the elastic and tugging gently.

"How do you- D'you want me to finger you again or-" He murmured between kisses to her neck.

She groaned quietly, "Hearing you say it like that 's hot," She cut in, "Like, really, insanely hot." She repeated. His warm tongue came out to lick at a spot under her jaw and her hands fisted the back of his shirt tightly, "So hot." She breathed out.

"You didn't actually answer the question." He told her, pulling back to look down at her with a grin.

"Right." She realized, licking her lips in thought, "Um, okay. It seriously won't take long. If you just-"

He shook his head, "I don't- I don't care how long it takes-" He interjected seriously.

"Hush," She scolded softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, "'M tryin' to tell you how to make me come again."

"Carry on." He said quickly.

She dropped her arms from his back and reached her left hand to guide his right one beneath her underwear again. He let out a small breath over her lips and swallowed, eyes flicking between hers as she directed the placement of his fingers over her clit.

"So just- Y'know, right here?" She directed softly, taking a shaky breath as his fingertips came into contact with the small bundle of nerves. She fumbled for how to explain verbally something she'd only ever done to herself, "You don't need to really apply much pressure, just-"

She guided his index and middle finger to press down lightly and moved their hands in a slow motion, his fingers slipping with smooth movements in the slick of her arousal. She waited a few seconds, until she was sure he'd caught on, before removing her hand with a shaky sigh as his fingertips rubbed softly against her clit.

The orgasm she'd been building up a few minutes prior began to re-emerge even quicker than she'd anticipated. As he settled into an easy rhythm, her head fell back and her eyes drifted shut, letting out a long, shaky breath of air.

She could already feel the heat of her climax building in her gut, the familiar tightness in her spine twisting further, and she pinched her eyes shut tighter as the soft fuzz in her brain continued to cloud between heavy breaths.

"You're quieter like this." Stiles commented softly, lowering his head to kiss at her neck again. He moved carefully as he tried not to disrupt the placement of his fingers as he circled the sensitive nub beneath her underwear gently.

"It's easier-" She told him breathlessly, "'S easier when there's just one thing to focus on. When there's something inside it's-"

He mouthed at her neck and her thigh muscles flexed with how wide she had her legs spread beneath him. She gasped quietly and fought to remember what she'd been talking about.

"Overwhelming." She finally finished after a long minute, brain hazy.

The tongue tracing a pattern along her throat trailed up higher as his fingers slipped and swirled around her clit lightly and something inside of her snapped. She choked on a gasp as her orgasm rushed over her in a sudden wave. Her back arched up from the bed, pressing Stiles' face into her neck more firmly with the movement.

The second climax faded more quickly than the first and as soon as her brain cleared, she guided his lips up to hers with her fingers pressed into his jaw. His fingers were still moving in slow, smooth strokes through the wetness between her folds and her hips jerked spastically at the continued stimulation.

"Jesus, Sti, that-" She whispered, body twitching again as she reached down to dislodge his hand gently, "That's- 'm good."

He dropped his hand beside her head and blinked down at her, eyes flicking between hers slowly in the dimlylit room, "Oh, I didn't realize you.. Sorry."

She pressed her lips to his softly, "Don't apologize."

She watched his eyes drop down to the left side of her neck before he grinned at her, "So, no hickeys in the future?"

"Oh god. I have one now though, don't I?" She groaned.

He nodded, leaning down to press his mouth to a spot that she couldn't see, but she felt the way it stung sharply at the light pressure, "Won' happen again." He promised against her skin, kissing it once more before moving back to kiss her on the lips again, "But I will be kissing your neck any and every opportunity I get."

"Somehow, I think I can live with that." She laughed quietly. She bit down softly on her lower lip in deliberation as she looked up at him, "So.." She started slowly, "Mieczysław-"

He groaned in embarrassment and dropped his head against her chest.

"Hey, no, don't do that." She pleaded, reaching up to run her fingers over the softness of his short hair, "I just wanted to be sure, I mean.. That- That's something you like?"

His head rolled to the side but remained laying against her sternum as he spoke, "To be completely honest I didn't really realize it was something I liked 'til you said it. I mean, I probably should've realized it. My dick, like, literally twitched in my pants when you said it in the principal's office yesterday-"

She snorted a laugh, "I'm sorry, what?"

He pushed back up onto his elbows and narrowed his eyes down at her, "Okay, that is not that weird."

"I never said it was weird. I just- I'm surprised. I didn't realize me just saying it could have such a strong effect on you." She grinned in amusement.

"I mean, my dick also twitches like almost every morning when I see you for the first time." He said easily.

Her eyes flicked over his face slowly, "What? Are you being serious?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course I'm serious," He defended, "Dicks kinda do that. I'm pretty sure I've gotten a semi from a good batch of curly fries."

"Dicks are that easy?"

"They're that easy," He agreed with a chuckle, "I'm literally resting in a damp patch of come right now in my shorts and.." He pushed up and looked down at the small space between their bodies, "Yep. Definitely not outta commission."

"Well," She licked her lips, "It's good to know you have a good refractory period. Y'know. For future reference."

He groaned, "Don't say that or I'm really gonna get hard again."

She grinned, "Sorry."

He shook his head and leaned down to press a kiss of forgiveness to her lips with a smile of his own, "Change into pajamas and then bed?" He asked against her lips.

"Pajamas and then bed." She agreed easily, heart fluttering contentedly in her chest as his mouth captured hers in one final, lingering kiss.

The next night, Lydia picked through the small basket containing Amber's nail polish collection disapprovingly while a trashy television show played unwatched in the background.

"If the impressive hickey on your neck is any indication, I'd say your date went pretty well last night." Lydia stated slowly, attempting to sound bored but very clearly interested.

"My god," Amber started simply, pausing the motions of where she'd been painting her fingernails to throw her head back against the couch, "Lydia."

"Is that a, what do I do, the guy I'm in love with is awful in bed 'my god' or a Stilinski is secretly a sex god 'my god'?" Lydia questioned.

"I don't even know," Amber sighed, continuing quickly when Lydia shot her a sharp look, "I mean, it was seriously so.. He's so hot. And so, like, attentive? And hot. And he takes direction really well and his fingers. Lyds. He's so-"

"If the next word out of your mouth is 'hot', I'm leaving." The other girl threatened.

Amber held up her hands in surrender and sat back up to resume painting her nails, "It was very, very good. That's all I'm saying."

Lydia huffed suddenly, "Where is that pretty pink color you were wearing a couple weeks ago?" She asked, still furiously digging through the tiny bottles of nail polish.

Amber paused where she was finishing painting nude color over her own nails and frowned in thought, "Um, maybe it's in the cupboard in the downstairs bathroom?" She pondered aloud.

Lydia sighed woefully and stood from the couch, heading down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Amber finished touching up her nails and recapped the nail polish before dropping it into the basket with the rest of her collection. She blew a puff of air over the wet paint in an attempt to get them to dry faster when there was a familiar, ear-piercing scream from down the hallway.

She stumbled as she stood from the couch, legs tanging frustratingly in the throw blanket for a moment before she managed to kick herself free and run down the hall. When she pushed into the bathroom, Lydia was still screaming in horror, arms wrapped around her head protectively as she stood next to the open bathroom window.

"What?! Lydia!" Amber yelled, pulling her friend away from the window to look her up and down for any sort of injury, "Lydia, what-"

Her screams finally faded and Lydia pointed to the window with tears in her eyes, "He was there, again." The redhead whispered fearfully, "I saw him again. Amber, I swear to god he was right there."

"Who?" She asked quickly, looking back over her shoulder and out the window anxiously for a second, "Who was it?"

"Peter Hale." Lydia whispered, avoiding her gaze and instead focussing on a freckle on Amber's shoulder.

"Pete- Peter Hale?" She repeated slowly in confusion, "Peter Hale was outside?"

Lydia nodded, "But I don't know if it was really him." She admitted in a hushed voice, "He-he was twitching and thrashing around like he was seizing or something and- And when I saw him before his skin was burned and repulsive, but.. But this time he looked perfectly normal. And- I swear it must've been him at school yesterday-"

"You saw him at school?" Amber interrupted frantically.

"He led us to the trophy case," Lydia said, finally looking up at the brunette in confusion, "You were right behind me when we were following him."

Amber shook her head, "Lydia, I was only following you. There- there wasn't anybody else in the hallway."

Lydia's lower lip trembled, "I am not crazy."

Amber firmly gripped Lydia's shoulders beneath her hands, "I don't think you're crazy, okay?"

"But you think I'm seeing things- Things that aren't there." Lydia stated.

"I- I think that trauma does crazy things to us." Amber said slowly, "Especially when we bottle it up, and push it down, and avoid talking about it at all costs." She finished pointedly.

Lydia nodded, jaw clenched, "I-"

"Peter Hale is dead," Amber promised, "He's dead, alright? He can never hurt you again."

Lydia nodded once more and when her lip quivered again, Amber pulled her into a tight hug. The brunette wasn't expecting the embrace to be returned, but Lydia's arms came up quickly to wrap around her and she buried her face in her friend's neck as she began to cry.

"He can't hurt you." Amber promised again quietly, words muffled in Lydia's long hair, "He's dead. He can't hurt you, and I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

A week passed without further incident from Lydia, Derek's new pack, or the mysterious tailed creature that Scott and Allison had seen on the night of the full moon. Amber had tried to call Derek nearly a dozen times, but the number she had saved for him could no longer be accessed, greeting her with an obnoxious error message every time she tried to call.

At school the following Monday, she headed down the hallway on a mission. Scott had mentioned that he planned to confront Erica about Derek's future plans for his pack, but Amber hoped that she might be more successful getting information out of the other girl on her own.

She came to a stop just behind the blonde where she was standing at her locker fixing her lipgloss. Amber narrowed her eyes at the back of the werewolf's head as she tried to psych herself up to confront her.

Erica seemed to sense her presence after only a second and she turned around to look at Amber with a coy grin.

"Who's next?" Amber asked her, "I just know Derek's gonna change at least three, right? So who is it gonna be?"

Erica hummed a quiet laugh and closed her locker door before crossing the hallway, focussing on Amber with an eerily hungry look in her eyes. She backed the brunette into the wall on the other side of the hallway as she spoke in a soft, enticing voice.

"Why does there have to be someone else when we could have you?" Erica asked, batting her eyes innocently, "I know Derek wants you to join us. You could, you know." She said softly, bringing her arms up to the wall on either side of Amber's head and effectively caging her in.

"C'mon, Erica. Seriously, who does he have in mind?" She reiterated, trying intently to not focus on the close proximity of the werewolf to herself.

"Hm," Erica hummed, "Did you know, I never knew what I looked like during a seizure until someone took a video of me once and put it online?"

"I'm sorry. They shouldn't've done that." Amber said earnestly, unsure where exactly the blonde was going with the story.

"It happened during class," Erica continued, "I started seizing at my desk and everyone was saying how they should put something in my mouth until you noticed the little card on my keyring that says not to because it could break my teeth."

"I- I forgot about that." Amber admitted softly, thinking back and trying to remember the event that had taken place in the eighth grade.

"D'you remember what happened next?" Erica questioned, voice sounding surprisingly emotional. Amber shook her head and Erica's eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, "I piss myself. And they all start laughing," She recounted, "Y'know, the only good thing about seizures was that I never remembered them.. Until some brilliant Jerk-off!" Erica yelled the last word and Amber flinched at the scream so close to her own face, "-Had to go put cameras in everybody's phone."

"I'm really sorry that happened, Erica." Amber said, voice shaking embarrassingly with nerves, "It's terrible. But-"

"But, look at me now," Erica interrupted, dropping her gaze down her own body to gesture to her ample cleavage between them.

Amber couldn't help the way her own eyes followed Erica's movement and she tore her gaze back up to the other girl's face quickly, blinking as she tried to regain her composure. Erica laughed at the brunette in satisfaction and Amber flushed in embarrassment. Her eyes drifted down the hallway and she spotted Stiles at his own locker, holding the metal door in one hand as he looked down the hall at the two girls in confusion.

Erica followed her gaze this time and waved at Stiles with a sly wiggle of her fingers, "Hm, you only have eyes for him?" She pouted, leaning closer.

"Yes." Amber said firmly, reaching up to push the other girl back a step with hands on her shoulders, "And if you're not going to tell me what's going on with Derek, then I guess we're done here."

"Oh, don't be like that," Erica grinned, "I think there's a little conversation involving you, me, and Stiles that might be worth having-"

"No, thanks." Amber smiled tightly, "See you, Erica."

She shouldered past the werewolf and rushed down the hallway, heart still pounding in her chest. She hurried to where Stiles was still at his locker, putting his things away before lunch. He caught sight of her when she was only a few steps away and he raised his eyebrows in question.

"What was that about?" He asked, nodding toward where she'd been standing with Erica a few moments before.

"I was asking her who Derek was planning to turn next." She explained in a huff, annoyed at how badly the conversation had gone.

"Huh," Stiles said, closing his locker and dropping an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward the cafeteria, "It almost looked like she was gonna to kiss you." He laughed at the suggestion.

"Yeah.." She shook her head distractedly, "Things got kind of weird."

Stiles' steps faltered for only a moment as they walked and he looked at her in bewilderment, "Was she gonna to kiss you?"

"I'm honestly not sure," Amber admitted, "Like I said. things got weird. I think she was trying to throw me off so I'd forget my initial question."

Stiles was frowning and looked like he wanted to say something more, but his eyes seemed to catch on something as they stepped into the lunchroom.

"What?" She asked, reaching up to press her hand into his spine beneath his sweatshirt.

"Oh, no." He muttered, quickly dragging her across the cafeteria to where Scott was sitting.

Amber stumbled, tightening her hand around the fabric of his undershirt as she was dragged along. They stopped to stand behind Scott and Stiles pointed frantically in front of Scott's face toward a spot a few tables away.

"D'you see that?" Stiles asked them, eyes wide.

"What?" Scott questioned in confusion, following the line of Stiles' finger across the room, "It's an empty table."

"Oh, no." Amber realized, eyes glued to the table she and Stiles had been sitting at just the week before to make the trade for the keys to the ice rink.

"But whose table?" Stiles prompted Scott.

Scott's eyes widened as he, too, finally registered the information in front of him, "Boyd!"

After classes were over, Amber rushed down the hallway between her two best friends, pulling the straps of her backpack tighter over her shoulders as she and Stiles followed Scott out the front doors of the building.

"I'm heading to the ice rink to see if he's there," Scott told them, "If he's not at home, one of you call me. Got it?" He paused in his steps to give them a serious look.

"Wh- I-" Amber frowned, biting at her lip indecisively, "Maybe we should let him? Boyd, I mean. I- It's not like Derek's forcing them to do anything. He’s giving them a choice, right?" Just like he gave me, she thought silently.

Stiles tilted his head and shrugged, "She's kinda got a point, man."

Scott shook his head vehemently and moved between them to urge his friends forward again, "We can't."

"You gotta admit, Erica looks.. Really good." Amber pointed out.

Stiles nodded, "I'm- The word 'sensational' comes to mind." He added quickly.

His eyes flicked to Amber immediately upon processing what he'd said and she rolled her eyes fondly as she reached around to pat his shoulder to reassure him that she wasn't offended.

Scott stammered in disbelief, "Yeah? I- H- How good do you guys think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?"

"Alright." Stiles conceded, "All we're saying is, maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility."

"They all are," Scott said slowly, "And you guys know this thing's gonna get out of control. That makes me responsible."

"Alright," Stiles repeated, "We're with you. And.. I gotta say. This newfound ‘heroism’ thing is making me very attracted to you."

Amber snorted and Scott laughed in quiet reluctance.

"Shut up." Scott huffed, an embarrassed smile on his face.

"I couldn't agree more." Amber grinned, leaning against Scott until he was caged firmly between her and Stiles.

"'m serious," Stiles continued to press, "You wanna just, try making out for a sec?" He asked Scott.

Amber pushed up onto her toes and playfully brought her lips closer to Scott's face, puckering and leaning in until he broke and laughed, shoving them both away gently before continuing down the path to the parking lot and leaving them behind.

Stiles grinned at her and shrugged as if saying, What are you gonna do?

"Oh, well. I guess I'm stuck kissing you." He said in faux disappointment.

"Oh, no," She smiled fondly, "That's terrible."

He leaned down to press his lips to hers for only a second before he continued to pull her down the stairs toward the parked Jeep. The two climbed in quickly and as they started down the road, she turned in her seat to watch him drive.

"You do know where Boyd lives, right?" She questioned suddenly.

"Yeah, of course I do." Stiles said easily, eyes flicking across the car to look at her for a moment as he made a turn, "I had to give his keys back to him before he could go to work last Saturday."

"Oh, right." She nodded, leaning back in the passenger seat in relief.

The Boyd household was close to the school, only a few blocks away, and it didn’t take long at all to get there. Stiles parked on the curb and they both tumbled out of the vehicle and rushed up the path to the house.

"Boyd!" Amber shouted, "You home?"

She knocked on the door in a succession of quick raps of her fist while Stiles peeked in through the windows off to the side of the front stoop.

"Hey, Boyd?" He called out, "It's Stiles- Oh! Wow!" He exclaimed suddenly.

Amber spun around to see what had frightened him and found Erica standing directly behind them on the small doorstep, laughing at them amusedly and shaking her head.

"What are you doing here, guys?" Erica asked softly, smiling at them patronizingly, as if she'd caught them sneaking cookies before dinner.

"Uh, n-" Stiles started nervously, "We were just looking for, um.."

"Boyd?" Erica asked gently, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"Yup!" Amber confirmed quickly as Stiles agreed beside her, "But, he's not home, so I guess-"

"You know what you're both doing right now that's kinda funny?" Erica interrupted, looking back and forth between them again, "You're only looking at my eyes."

At the reminder, Amber nearly let her gaze drop down to the abundant amount of cleavage the other girl had on display, but she managed to stop herself at the last second with an awkward laugh.

"That's funny?" Stiles asked Erica.

"Well, yeah," The blonde grinned, looking between them with narrowed eyes, "Because it's that kind of look where you're both trying not to look anywhere but my eyes-"

"Wh- Why would we want to look anywhere but your eyes?" Amber questioned with a laugh.

Erica raised her eyebrows, "Mm, because I'm attractive.. And I have certain assets-"

"Seems incredibly rude to look anywhere but your eyes when we're having a conversation." Amber interrupted quickly, catching Stiles frantically nodding his head beside her out of the corner of her eye.

"But you want to, don't you?" Erica asked with an enchanting smile, stepping closer to them until her chest lightly brushed against them both as her gaze flicked between them, "Both of you. You want a nice, long. hard. look."

"Not really, no." Stiles denied quickly.

"Oh." Erica frowned, taking a small step back, "So, it's just my eyes?"

He nodded, "Yes. You have beautiful eyes."

Erica grinned, "I have beautiful everything."

"-And a newfound self-confidence." He observed.

"That's really great, Erica." Amber added quickly, grabbing Stiles' arm and pulling him a step to the side, "But, we should get going-"

Erica pushed both of them back lightning fast with a hand at the center of each of their chests, "You're not going anywhere."

"Why not?" Stiles questioned nervously.

Erica stepped back to grab a large, mysterious hunk of metal from her jacket pocket and held it up with an innocent grin, "You're having car trouble." She shrugged

The blonde swung her arm out to bash Stiles across the temple with the unknown car part and Amber gasped, eyes wide. He fell to the ground, a small cut on the side of his forehead bleeding slowly and Amber looked back to the werewolf furiously.

"Are you insane?" She yelled angrily, heart hammering in her chest.

Erica pursed her lips with a small shrug, "Huh. Y'know, I'm not sure."

The brunette flinched but didn't have enough time to dodge the blow before Erica had swung again and hit her on the side of her head with the heavy piece of metal. Amber fell back in a slow blur, consciousness gone completely before she'd even landed atop Stiles' unmoving body.

[cherri-balms]

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — CH.1 — Normal Girl

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 0:01

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A/N ﹕Chapter 1 is finally out!! I apologize if this took a little while, I have an idea for an Alastor fic brewing and if all things go well, the prologue/pilot chapter will be the next thing I post!

As always if you would like to be added to the taglist, shoot me a DM and ill get back to you asap!! <3

This chapter is primarily exposition and fluff, so there are no content warnings for this chapter aside from a brief description of making oneself vomit.

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟓.𝟐𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bring-your-reader to work day as one of the most famous idols in hell! Or, what it's really like working as one of the most famous idols in hell under the thumb of the VEES.

6:00 PM

Your alarm begins your morning with its typical assault to the ears and dragging  you out of what was once a beautiful slumber, for a while your subconscious was even able to create a darling little wonderland blend of hell and personal heaven, but all good dreams had to come to an end at sometime soon.

Sitting up, you begin your typical morning work routine of getting dressed, brushing your teeth and whatever other morning activities that needed to be done. Surrounding you are dozens of printed posters and scrolls of yourself watching you get changed, most of which being limited edition merchandise from your concerts, and almost all of them had in bold letters “MONΛRCH” somewhere on the prints. After your meeting with Vox that day, he insisted that if you were going to work with the brand of the Vees that you were to take on a stage name to said brand. Before you could go through your mental filing cabinet to find something that would fit, Vox informed you that he had already picked your name from the moment you walked in: Monarch. It took a second for you to realize, but the patterns currently adorning your body with the resemblance of a monarch butterfly made it click. Plus, you did like how powerful the name sounded.

The last step of your routine was always to consult yourself a sprint checkup on your voice synthesizer and then perform some finetuning. Your current synthesizer is nowhere close to your first one, hell the damn thing originally couldn't even get wet, nor was it surgically bolted into your neck, though the two still shared similar parts in case the need for a quick repair arose.

… Aaaand of course speak of the fallen angel, that said scenario was precisely why you keep a constant eye on the quality of your synthesizer, because the screw connecting your voice bank and vocal chords was chipped. Sure, it was minute but even the smallest imperfection could lead to rust and infection that you just couldn’t afford.

The bottom half of your dresser vanity would appear to be nothing but a foundational box with a front facing panel and some regal metalsmith carvings  if not for the card-slot keyhole poking out the right side. You keep the key hidden on your person at all times, while the contents inside hold no value in money or power you’re sure the reactions to what could be construed to be a stalkerish shrine to your boss would be the end of your reputation.

And his too you guess but you’re the cute one here.

Lifting your pointer finger to the back of your neck, using the slight dent of your nail to nudge out a tiny rectangular panel of your synthesizer. Or, it would be rectangular if not for the carefully cut notches on one of the sides.

You slip the key into the slot as far as it will reach, bypassing all 4 clicks then rewarding you with a 5th at ths decompressing tightness of the spring lock hinge. The once stiff panel now slides open, though not exactly with grace with it getting friction jammed against the frame caused by lack of use.

Not quite having time to spare getting distracted by your keepsakes you reach to the glass case to the left containing your prototype voice bank collar displayed like a diamond atop a blue silk pillow. You’re absolutely certain if  Vox discovered you still held the beta technology he would gag like you were saving a meal that's gone bad. Absolutely adorable, knowing if you’d present it to any sinner in hell it’d be easy to convince them it was state of the art, brand new.

One screw acquired and you’re out of there, locking everything the way it was before, box, vanity, bedroom door, apartment door. The commute to the VHQ could barely even be considered a walk, actually, most of the housing within a 3 mile radius of their building was ultimately owned by the Vees reserved for employees. Smart way to both keep their people in line and control exactly who’s around at all times, gotta give them credit when credit is due.

The dredging silence over the span of two months had you in an urge to claw beneath your skin to tear out the stabbing anticipation that seemed to grow within. Should that evolve into a spiral well of anxiety you'd been worried the business plan sealed in ink turned into a ghost, but you were informed before your leave that Rome wasn’t going to be built in a day so you were left with nothing to do but respect his unspoken wishes.

When the hour struck and you received the details for the date and time of your next meeting in a bare bones text, you wish you could say it put your short term torture to a close, but the years worth of screaming in static was finally going to be over. You couldn’t make time move any faster, only make yourself move faster to prepare for your next encounter with the overlord that could now be considered your master.

“Monarch! Good, right on time, Now come sit.” Your overlord spins around the chair to your direction, beckoning you his way. You silently do as you’re told sitting legs pressed together handbag in your lap, before you even had a chance to touch the zipper for your tablet he waves your hands away.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t need to bother yourself with that anymore. I’m sure you know why I called you?” By the way his smirk stretched across the screen while his left hand reached below his desk you’d nearly assume he was just as excited as you for this day. You feel your eyelids pull back and you swore your eyes reflected twice as much light than when you first sat down if you could catch a glimpse of yourself.

The device presented to you in his hands looked identical to its future self if not for the fresher coat of polish it bore. You must confess you weren’t too sure what you were envisioning for this gadget to come out looking like, actually you realized you were never imagining something metaphysical at all, the technological cure to your aid came in the mental form of an intangible concept closer to a myth. But what was before your eyes was.. actually pretty underwhelming.

It looked like nothing but a steel box speaker attached to a collar with a dial, bare and simple. You caught a peek at something poking out on the other side behind it, but it didn’t catch your interest long enough to retain the observation. You weren’t aware enough to try and hide your confusion but you may have done a better job than you thought at not letting it show since he didn’t react until you cocked your chin to the side.

“Well what are we waiting for! Let’s get this show on the road and try it out, yeah? Turn around.” You were practically standing and turned before he could even finish the command. Sharp blue needles brush over your cheeks and under strands of hair lifting them behind your ears. You make the sound of the buckles on the collar before it’s veiled over your vision and behind your neck. “Fair warning, this will definitely be painful!”

Mayhaps you should’ve taken a bigger note on what you saw behind the box earlier, because you instantly got to discover what it was as spear headed clamps bury dormant in your throat through your neck so sharp it could pierce bone. Pain didn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling, it was like your brain tossed you back in time to repeat your lungs combusting to ash and your body soon reacted like you were suffering such fate again, causing you to start jumping and swatting out of the arms of your savior as if he were your next next killer.

“AAAAAAHH-aaahhhh?” Was that y- there’s no way. 

You tested again in case this was another instance of your psyche filling in the gaps of a voice once more.

“aaahhhhhh~AAAHH~~” You weren’t dreaming. What you were asking from him from the start felt like asking the impossible but the result you were given far exceeded any daydream you conjured to cope with your situation, but not only had the overlord given you a brand new voice by some miracle, the voice he gave you was the same you had in life, the same smooth melody you forgot you could produce.

You turned around to face him, this time with tears blurring your view. Not an ounce of anger from your embarrassing attack his way earlier, only intrigue in your reaction to the gift. For the first time in years, you could speak and say anything in the world you wanted and now your mind was white noise. All you could do was bow your head in gratitude, though you aren’t sure if he was expecting that just based on the noise he made after.

“Hey- woah, no need for that now, not that I’m necessarily complaining,” You raise your head and you aren’t surprised by the shadow of ego stretching his grin across the screen. “I did some investigating into your mortal life to find samples of your work to make sure your voice would be nothing short of yours! Getting hands on anything in the overworld is a royal pain in the ass, though. I hope you keep that in mind.” 

Was he jesting? You were going to keep every bolt and circuit in mind for the rest of your afterlife. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the subtle new feeling of electrical surges flowing down the rivers of your veins, but just standing still with the amount of energy pumping in your body currently had you revived into a frankenstein marionette. 

You suppose a start could be a proper thank you, but when you attempted to mouth the words the frequency in which the simple “thank you, sir” stitched themselves together didn’t carry harmoniously, more like a broken collage of vocal pitches. Your hand cuts off your lips with a flare of pink to your cheeks, the oncoming cackling from your new boss turns that shade into deep red.

“Hahaha! I was wondering when you were gonna find that part out!” The laughter settles to a halt and he lifts a finger to wipe away a pixelated tear that doesn’t actually budge. “This model is just a beta voice bank and synthesizer, speaking will take some getting used to and once I get enough data from your use of it in the following weeks, I can begin working on improvements. I have a manual in my drawer containing the details for maintenance but for now, I have some people you need to meet.”

You were nodding your head along but you had to admit, you were not following completely. True you were unfamiliar with the recent spike in tech, but you didn’t think you were this poorly informed. You make a mental note of this as something you should start fixing asap if you were going to continue your career this way. Meanwhile, outside your thoughts, your boss is leading you to the front elevator.

Before you could prepare for a silent and awkward ride down, the TV filter breaks it again. “Oh, and can you stop with the whole “sir” talk, it’s a painfully stuffy-outdated form of addressing authority. Just address me as Vox, and everyone will know I’m your boss.” The elevator bell rings signaling the stopping floor. Your vision is brought to what looks like a madhouse production with women bustling in every direction skewing fabric across the space. It didn’t take long to put two and two together that this was some kind of clothing production, but seeing a fashion lineup in what you thought was a tech company put you in uncanny valley.

“No! No! No! Fucking disgraceful- what the hell is this shit Shae? Did you get sick all up on our silk or are you actually using vermillion and oli- VERMILLION AND FUCKING OLIVE SHAE DID YOU LEARN COLOR COORDINATION FROM THE COLOR BLIND?!” Alright that definitely drew your attention. The voice sounded like a female Gordon Ramsay for fashion instead of cooking, so it wasn’t difficult to assume she was the one in charge.

“Velvette! You’re as bitter as ever before.” The woman turns over, you had to admit her namesake fit well with her appearance and instantly the aesthetic made sense. Something about that cute white swirl she has in her hair reminded you of a sweet cheesecake frosting you could've devoured her on sight.

“Vox fuckin’ piss off mind you can’t you see I’m in the middle of somethi- who the fuck is this” Velvette squints in your direction like your appearance sucked away the rest of her eyesight. Seconds go by, and then a few more without a word being exchanged, only the next electrical surge from the nervous gulp of saliva reminding you that things didn’t have to be this way anymore.

You introduce yourself unashamed of the robotic slurred speech pattern and the face she makes could only be described as bewilderment.

“I- what in satan’s name was tha-”

“She’s mute, Velvette. Sweetheart this is the cornerstone of my little “Monarch” project I informed you of, and I actually came here to discuss that with you.”

“Wait a second the star of your new network is a mute bimbo- Vox did your motherboard circuits go fucking smooth?!” Self control was a virtue you’d mastered since life one, through thumb-tacks in your heels to schmoozing slimy pigs with deep pockets, the poker face would remain sewn to your cheeks. But here, you could feel the slightest twitch anytime this woman spoke. You couldn't give a damn how powerful she thought she was, the kinds of implications she was making towards Vox only made you want to shove bars of soap down her throat until it cleans the filth coating her mouth.

There was no fucking way you were ever going to tolerate that cunt.

The frosted blast of studio AC and diamond perfume became your standard morning welcome when clocking into work, upon so being greeted by the models and seamstresses on the floor of your first stop with your typical “good mornings” and “how are yous”. One of the newer interns approaches with multiple cardboard cup holder trays of coffee, and it didn’t take very long to find the cup with your favorite order, even if it weren’t for the bold lettering of your stage name on the outside.

You finish up your typical greetings making your way over to the dressing rooms where the rest of your stagemates are already gathered looking at the schedule. First on the docket was choreography training, no surprise since your instrumentalists were nowhere to be found, and then after lunch iss… oh wonderful! Outfit fitting! Which meant the whole afternoon with just you and Velvette.

This was going to be a perfect day, wasn’t it?

Speak of the devil and she shall not only appar, she’ll kick the front door down like it cheated on anniversary night and throw what was- probably a brand new Goeccia hand purse in the face of whomever was closest.

“EACH ONE OF YOU BETTER BE FUCKING CLOCKED AND AT YOUR POST IN THE NEXT MINUTE OR YOU’RE ALL SEWING THE ANGELIC!!KILLS LINE BY TONIGHT EVEN IF YOUR FUCKING FINGERS ARE WORN TO NUBS ARE WE CLEAR?! Now where the ever loving fuck is- There she is!!”

“Velvette!!”

The two of you run and embrace in the middle of the room like you had just returned from the great war and reuniting with your long lost lover at the end of a shitty romcom. This display, was one that also became a tradition between the two of you at the start of the work day, one you weren’t ignorant to the handful that still felt the need to eyeroll or squint.

Okay so,, your seeded disdain for Velvette was one you admittedly locked away in the vault of embarrassing memories to reap its head around only when trying to get a good night's sleep. You initially had spent the first month or so practicing every torture method known to man on the images your eyes sent you because of how she talked down to Vox like a dog, this was… before you found out she was an overlord too and suddenly the context of the relationship they shared made sense. A bitter part of the pride that landed you where you are today still wanted to leech onto any grain of malice toward her, eventually turning into a humiliating envy and possessiveness over Vox’s attention. In that span of time you made no effort to get to know Velvette or care about her work, even while she was making the outfits you wore on stage for you and she somewhat mutually felt the same about you. 

Luckily for the two of you, there was a third much more obnoxious V that was too perfect of low hanging fruit in the art if feminine hazing for you both to latch onto and find common ground on.

“I think this new hair style might be my new favorite! Locs look good on you~” Compared to how you felt the first time speaking with the prototype that sat in your vanity, the newer model of your synthesizer had a way more diverse voice bank and finetuning that made speaking feel and sound much more natural. Even with the mounds of progress from your prototype to present day, it was still obviously unnatural and robotic. These became factors that slowly mattered less as your gratitude increased, and you were content that not everyone was going to see it that way.

“See? I fucking told that nasty bed bug upstairs that I’d eat butterfly locs but what the fuck would he know when I can read my damn future in his forhead,” Velvette went a total of two minutes of the conversation before she pulled her phone out to check her instagram feed, a new accomplishment. You were proud. “Just so you’re aware by the way, Verosika Mayday announced  the release date of her Paint it Pink album like 35 minutes ago and people are already bringing your name into it. You got a lot to deliver with this upcoming tour.”

Lucifer bless Velvette for having the brain cells to keep up with surfing the modern social media tides you continuously wipe out on with every attempt. You could stomach social media enough for your job, but Velvette made sure to get you a top notch social media advisor to handle your accounts to make it seem like you were more active than you were. True as it was that your vocal synthesizer brought a new flair to the world of music; especially in the rise of electronica, techno and pop where your new voice couldn’t compare to any other sinner in the genres, this factor has also lead to a cluster headache of… Let’s just say controversy. Old fashioned demons in particular were the bane of everything you deemed holy just because how fucking annoying they were making their periodic hangups your god damn problem.

Before you could properly offer your gratitude your attention is taken by an obnoxious thump and “A-hem!” in the direction of the dressing room. Turning you can see the green lop bunny ears of your costar and you can assume she’s trying to tell you to move your ass. Drama was the last thing you had energy for so you blow a kiss goodbye to Velvette and made two shakes of a lamb's tail into the dressing rooms.

Today you didn’t need to worry about outfit planning, just something comfortable that you don’t mind sweating in for the better part of the day. A simple pair of running shorts, tank top and loafers should work more than fine for today, hopefully as long as Valentino didn’t decide to sit on today’s choreography exercises…

It wasn’t exactly the norm for dance practices for the remaining member of the V trifecta to sit in and give his shit commentary- kind critiques on your movements and appearances. If it were up to you or any of your coworkers, Valentino wouldn’t be anywhere near your production but alas, contractual standards came first. One of the stipulations upon starting your career as Monarch was your introduction to the Vee network and the ongoing partnership the three overlords held to upkeep their power within hell. Long and short, this meant that with each contract the Vees delt the other two business partner would also have to reap some sort of benefit; typically monetary gain.

In your case, Velvette easily got her reward by using your team as breathing mannequins to advertise her fashion line, not to mention she would ultimately be credited in every comment of the flashy costumes you wore at concerts and venues. Valentino’s side had free royalties to your music to play in his clubs and this usually came along with him having a say in the dances that go with the song. Every fucking time it was a Valentino session you all knew you were in for a long day of overtime, muscle pain, and playing sexual harassment bingo.

Two knocks on the door put your thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Monarch dear, are you descent~” Ah, it was your favorite voice in all of hell~ you run to the door with a skip in each step like a puppy listening for dangling keys outside the front door.

“Never~”

“Are you dressed?”

“Yes!”

“There’s the answer we’re looking for,” You welcome him inside with a pleasant “come in” and Vox follows as such. You maintain a safe distance and subtly restrain yourself by clasping your hands behind your back but you weren’t going to deny, days like today the tightrope beneath your feet of professionalism and your heartache was especially loose. You’re certain the love you felt for the man who saved your spirit was last year's news to everyone in the building, actually your “inappropriate devotion” has been the source of countless catfights among your bandmates.

“Monarch love! Horrific morning isn’t it~” You could listen to him talk all day, and when he approaches you and clasps a hand over your cheek leaning into the touch feels like second nature.

“Every day in the studio is a horrific morning, but I know that’s not what you came to talk to lil’ ol me about, isn’t it?”

“Why, you hurt me! Can’t I just start my morning visiting a beautiful painted lady?” You blink in a moment of silence until he finishes. True you loved soaking in his flattery, but not in feigned procrastination. “Valentino and I spoke this morning, or rather he threw a tantrum because I didn’t tell him I put Pomp and Circumstance on your schedule today..” 

Aaand there it is, of course you get to not only work with STI Patient-0, but he was already off to a shit mood to start the day. If the scales of fortune decide to tip your way at all during today you hope this tips in your favor, given the… technique you developed to avoid interacting with him as much as possible.

When you lift your head to meet your reflection, you have to tilt your head a bit higher than you remembered last, and your arms were now coiled around his waist. Oh, it seems matter won over mind again. The hand that once danced feathers over your cheek now caress massages in your scalp. Scandalous, sure. But there was nothing wrong with comforting a friend after a rough morning, right?

“Come, everyone else is already in the studio. Sorry I couldn’t start your day with anything pleasant, I hate being the reason you have a frown. So,” Your vision cuts into frames of bright white and a following zap, once, then twice again. In what feels like an instant Vox disappears and reappears within the electricity, but the second time he holds a brown fast food bag and a bright green M.

“OH MY GOD I LOVE MAMMONALDS! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!!” Stars of reflected light build in your eyes when you saw the bag. Reading the receipt taped to the front you can already tell the breakfast order is your favorite even down to your specific requests that made the receipt  go down past the bag but you knew the employees wouldn’t even dare try and get Vox’s order wrong. 

“Take a minute to eat and come to the studio, I didn’t get you a drink because I knew you were going to get coffee so I’ll get you a milkshake after choreography, kay?” You nod your head while already pulling out your side of hashbrowns and chowing down like a hamster nibbling a sunflower seed.

It was a sight so cute Vox wanted nothing but to squeeze you so tight your eyes pop out of your skull.

But there was no time to waste. Vox vanishes with a flicker of the lights and bolts yet again, and you take a couple last chews before you’re sure hes gone.

Standing up you make way to the connected bathroom to your dressing room and open the toilet seat. Immediately you shove two fingers into your throat and probe the back until it triggers your gag reflex enough to regurgitate every last bite you took. The slime of cheap grease and burn of overused salt always made you restrain a gag without fail anytime fast food was given to you, but god Vox just would not stop ordering that shit for you. Perhaps there was a chance you sold your “love” for Mammonalds a little too hard the first handful of times he’d gifted it to you; actually, you probably wouldn’t be in this situation at all if you just refused his offer to hand feed you a fry earlier on in your contract, and by all means you wanted to, but your body’s impulse had won that that day.

Tossing out the remaining food out of the bathroom window to the dumpster in the alley below you and flushing and cleaning any remnants of bile, you give yourself one last tidy up and make way to the next place you’re needed: the dance studio.

By some unholy miracle when you stepped out of the elevator, you weren’t met with condensed red smoke to the ceiling and a moth throwing a drink at your head. Drink or a bullet, whichever he thought would please him more.

“Fucking christ all mighty, the “Princess of the Hour!” finally arrives.” As expected, everyone had already gathered long before you while you were caught up with Velvette and Vox, the first one to greet you being the same moody green bunny from earlier, rolling her eyes and doing little jazz hands mid sentence to hammer in her sarcasm.

“Good morning to you too, Tea!! I’m glad you’re feeling well~” You made a decision to go on the dismissive today, Tea in particular always seemed to be in sour moods when it came to you being as chummy as you were with the Vees for a mere contracted soul. At the end of the day you couldn’t give less a shit about that twats petty jealousy issues if she only had the decency to keep it to damn self instead of making it your problem, and your problem at work nonetheless.

“Oh shut the fuck up Tea we aren’t in the mood for this today,” The lanky azure colored salamander man gently flicked Tea on the back of the head with a roll of the eyes and a vertical reptile blink. Out of all the members of your little group, Sirius was the closest thing you had to a voice of reason and it made him the most tolerable out of the bunch. In the corner too engrossed in their own conversations to even pay mind to any of you were two harpy girls, sisters actually. Black Marlia on the left and White Russian on the right, both of them added a much needed flare to your concerts and were the only two who could go airborne long enough to perform choreography above the stage, you liked to think they were valuable assets even if you could count the amount of times either has spoken to you on one hand.

“I hear we have to deal with Valentino’s bullshit today…” Sirius attempts to continue the conversation as the five of you start properly getting into position for when said moth comes in, it would look as if you’d all been wagging your tails for his arrival this whole time.

“You are the third to remind me of his existence today, if that number goes up I might have to fly away and leave you hanging~”

“Oh and here I thought you’d be ecstatic to be commanded by one of your masters for the better part of today.”

“Not the one who immediately calculated my ass and chest size in his head as an introduction.”

“Was he right though-”

“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW!” And just like that, any hope of this being a well off- or even standard Valentino work day just died on arrival. You all do exactly what he says and don’t utter a peep until he says bark. Throughout the early hours of the rehearsal, it was evident that he wanted to be here the least out of any of you which was something that as much as he made your skin crawl, you had to respect. No one likes work already but you could understand how the brand you had was so softcore in comparison to what he was used to, the whole choreograph just looked like a bunch of pillows flopping around on stage to him.

Your understanding should not be confused with sympathy however, simply put knowing how your bosses think is rule #1 when it comes to maintaining a proper work/life balance, and in this case it would be minimizing the amount of halts and rechoreographing out of nitpicks. So, while your brand was one that strayed away from deviance and sex to keep the illusion of ownership, being a bit more risqué than your typical sets here and there wasn’t a crime and would give Val more to look at even if only teasingly.

“No! No! NO THIS IS ALL FUCKING WRONG!!” Yeah who the fuck were you kidding, if you all weren’t having an orgy this jack off was never going to be pleased.

“Did you all learn how to dance in a fucking church?! Are you all such angel cunt lickers that you can’t handle presenting any TNA is that it?!”

Yeah… This was going to be a long work day…

TAGLIST﹕@hurtworld401 @feral-ratatattat-king

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: This is, uh, my take on an HC/Fic hybrid about Break-up sex with Baji. Initially, it was going to be HC's but then this damn sad ass song I'm listening to made me a sobbing mess and here we are now. I really don't dabble in angst but something about this felt so right (and heartbreakingly beautiful??) Hope you guys like it, too. Also, I would probably never ever ever never break up with this man.

C/W ::: Just MDNI under the cut. More painful than smutty but there's still some parts that are not for minors, says I. Thanks!

Listen to me (on repeat if you can stand it)

Knows why you came over today

Won't stop kissing you because when he does, he knows what you're going to say

Won't stop even when you tell him to because you "need to talk about something"

Doesn't care

Doesn't want to hear it

Finally takes his lips off of yours and tucks his face into your neck

Whispers how much he loves you against your ear because he knows how sensitive you are there and he’s hoping you’ll cave to his whims

Doesn't want to have to wake up in the morning and face the fact you're "not his anymore"

Pulls you over to where he's sitting on the bed and wraps his arms around your hips

Smashes his face into your belly

Soaks your shirt with his tears

Kisses his way up your chest to your lips again

His lips are wet from crying

"Please just ... why? Why is this happening right now?" he'll ask in vain

You don't really have an answer but you know that this is how it has to be

You will kiss him back against all of your better judgment

His hands slip under your shirt and he rubs circles into your warm skin with his rough fingertips

You can feel yourself falling back into that same comfortable routine with him despite fighting it with every ounce of your willpower

Things are so easy with him

But you just don't see it going anywhere

You're goal oriented

He's content with the way things are

His eyes tell you more than his words ever could

And you want to listen

You want to let him love you forever

But you have plans

Life plans

You've worked so hard to get to where you are and you didn't mean to fall in love with [someone like] Baji

And though you did, you've never loved anyone like him

Never been loved by anyone like he loves you

Your parents gave him the side-eye from the beginning

That didn't matter to you

You were just 19 and he was wild

Fun

Fun

He knows this is your mom's idea

He's trying to convince you to just give him another chance

But he's not promising to be better or change his ways (and why should he - you don't love him because he has potential - you love him for him - he's perfect the way he is)

You break down and fold into his chest letting the tears you'd been holding back fall without subtlety or aim

They stain the gray shirt he's wearing

He knew you were coming over today and he knows you love that shirt on him so that's why he wore it - the both of you will never look at that shirt again after today

Baji will burn it when you leave him to stand there and stare at you as you walk away

You kind of knew that, too

He brushes the hair that is glued to your cheeks and kisses the tear streaks running down your face

Does not ask for permission when he picks you up and lays you down on his bed

He will lower himself, slotting down between your thighs and rolls his body against yours with a desperation you've never felt from him

He can't stand to look at you but he forces himself because after this, he will never want to see you again

His ego will heal soon enough

But there will always be a blemish on his heart where he carved out a safe little niche for you to stay forever and ever

A part of him will hate you forever and ever for doing this to him

You feel his growing need for you against your own

This feels wrong

It feels too final

Because it is

This probably shouldn't happen

Though neither of you seem to be able to stop it

His hand snakes down between your bodies and he unbuttons your jeans

Pulling down the zipper like he has so many times in the past

"Baji-kun ..." you try to make it sound like you know better than to do this

It won't fix anything

No closure will be obtained through this final act

"Don't - please ... don't y/n." He chokes out

He leans back and gathers the denim of your jeans up in his hands to tug them down

Flashing back to the very first time the two of you gave yourself to the other

He coughed out a sob or a laugh

You couldn't tell

You didn't really want to know (if you were being honest with yourself)

Right now, the both of you were being anything but honest with yourselves

He got your bottoms off and began to undo his belt

The cool clink of the metal shook you out of the trance his unabashed affection had put you in

Drunk on him

He always fucked you up

Leaving the belt in his pants, he undid the button and zipper and just pulled them down a little

Enough for him to pull his shamelessly hard cock out

Baji was not patient with you

He slid himself into you without any warning

You gasped at the less than skilled intrusion and he hissed at the feeling

It felt familiar

It felt like coming home

He felt like home

But this wasn't home to you - now

It couldn't be

Not anymore

He pumped into you with a sense of urgency

As if he was racing against time to keep you here with him

To keep you his

He couldn't stop his hips from snapping into yours

He didn't want to stop

Didn't want you to stop

Didn't want to wake up from this dream and realize it was a nightmare

He was living a nightmare

And it was just beginning

"Baji-kun ... I can't do this." You moaned, though you didn't stop him

It felt too good

Too good to be true

He pulled out and you cried out at the loss

Effortlessly, he flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your hips up

Gripping them with an iron fist, he entered you from behind

"Oh fuck, Baji-kun!" You screamed into the pillow

You sobbed through the pleasure racking your body and the pain strangling your heart

He was hitting you at a different angle and it was making your eyes roll back into your head

Your body was on fire

The kind of fire that only Keisuke could ignite

You will never feel this again with anyone

Not ever

You came hard and fast, soaking his sheets with your cum

He was close

You could feel his cock twitching inside of you

He pulled out and flipped you back over, entering you again

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him

Tears ran down his face like a tsunami after a violent earthquake shook the world's entire core

Baji was your world

You wondered how this happened

How it had come to this

How you would ever learn to live without his bright eyes and smile greeting you after any time apart

It didn't matter

He was always happy to see you

Always smiling at you with that devilish grin of his that made your heart beat a little faster

His lips found yours again and he kissed you with a restlessness you had never felt from him before

And a tenderness that terrified you

You had broken his heart

You had ripped it to shreds

You had eaten him whole and swallowed him up without any hesitation

That's what it means to love like this

It is overwhelming 

It will leave you an empty shell if you're not careful

It is fast

Hard

All encompassing and heavy against you when you’re not sure about anything but the person staring back at you

You will never know this again

And it hurts

So fucking much 

"I love you so much, y/n." He whimpered against your lips

He came with a moan and you felt his warmth fill you up

You let him lay on top of you for a few minutes

Just breathing in his scent

One last time

Knowing that you could never let yourself fall in love again

Because you knew, deep within your fucking shattered soul, nothing would ever, ever measure up to this.

@katshimizuu @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

[wehaveimagineshere]

Ren, I really hope you don't mind me sending in another request so soon but I've read Girl Dad like 7 times and I'm still craving. I want more. I want Carlos with his newborn. I want him taking care of his girls and making breakfast in bed and bringing his wife the baby for group cuddles and shit. I crave the domestic fluff. I will take anything you throw at me it's all too good. You're too good. I'm feverish for your writing rn. I have such a soft spot for badass couples being soft with their little baby so youve really given me a blessing. >◇< ilysm please keep well and stay happy <33333

I don't mind more requests at all! <3 I'm so happy you liked Girl Dad! Omgggg this is so cuuttteee I'm so happy I get to write something so sugary sweet!!!

Thank you so much for being so sweet, every time I read this I get all smiley! <3

~*~*~

You wake up to the smell of bacon.

Yawning wide, you turn your head to Carlos' side of the bed, a little confused to find it empty. Running a hand across the sheets, you're even more surprised to find them cold.

Reaching out to your plugged in phone on the bedside table, you squint as it lights up. Okay, not too early. But, wait, your daughter usually starts crying before now.

Bolting up, your feet are almost on the carpet before your muddled brain slots the puzzle pieces together. Carlos' side of the bed is cold. Maybe he heard her before you did and calmed her so she didn't wake you up.

Why didn't he come back?

Rubbing a hand across your face, the decision to check or not is made for you. You hear Carlos saying something a moment before he opens the door, a plate of food in each hand.

"She's not going to believe how you helped with breakfast this morning."

And your daughter swaddled across his chest, who kicks her feet and giggles when she spots you.

"Hey, what are you doing awake?" Crossing the bedroom, he sets a plate full of bacon on the bedside table and uses his now free hand to swat at your thighs. "Get back in bed."

"What?" you ask, brain still muddled, tucking your feet back under the blankets.

"Our little girl here decided she wanted to make you breakfast in bed this morning." When you're leaning comfortably against the pillows, he sets the other plate onto your lap. Sunny side up eggs with toast greets your eyes, and your tummy grumbles a moment later.

Your little girl gurgles, arms doing a little wave.

Producing a fork, Carlos hands it to you before looking down to your girl. "Right. We have more dishes for you. Want pancakes next? Fruit? Bagel?"

At the mention of the bagel, your little one babbles.

"I agree, bagel sounds good." Making his way back to the kitchen, he throws over his shoulder, "I'll make sure it has cream cheese on it."

Blinking in surprise, you give yourself a moment to process before picking up a piece of bread and dipping it into the egg. You're only three bites in before Carlos returns with more plates, and it's not until the bed is almost full with all the dishes you own that Carlos leans against the wall opposite you, holding a strawberry shaped teether for your daughter to chew.

"What did I do?" you ask, setting aside an empty plate to pick up another. "To deserve all this, I mean?"

"Aside from popping this one out into the world?" He does a little shake, prompting your girl to kick her feet and giggle. "Maybe I just wanted to pamper my queen, ever think of that?"

You give him a curious look but keep eating until your stomach is full to bursting. When you go to get up to put the dishes up, Carlos swats your legs and hustles everything out, baby giving her commentary the entire time.

Still wondering if maybe there's a catch, you watch as Carlos unswaddles your girl and slides into his spot next to you, setting your daughter on her belly on his chest.

You slide up against his side, your hand resting against your girl's back. Her sleepy eyes drift to you, a small smile turning up her chubby cheeks.

"She's had a full morning helping me out in the kitchen." Carlos' voice rumbles through his chest, making her yawn and close her eyes. "She told me exactly how you like your pancakes."

"Did she now?"

"She did. Was very particular about it. If I made a mistake, I'd get an earful." Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he adds, "Just like someone else I know."

"Oh, so it's my fault?"

"Yeah. I mean, genetics and all, right?"

"And what did she get from you, big guy?"

"My superior sense of humor."

Smiling wide, you slot your head between Carlos' shoulder and collarbone. From this angle, you can see your girl passed out, drool dribbling from her open mouth and onto your husband's shirt. Rubbing your thumb absentmindedly up and down her back, you ask Carlos, "So what's the plan now?"

"I dunno, I didn't think that far." A pause. "A nap?"

"A nap sounds good."

Squeezing you in a one armed hug, you hear Carlos hum in agreement. "Nap it is, then."

[chiefdirector]

Conversing | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

Damian Barrett moved the coins in his hands, rattling them back and forth as he waited for the seconds as they passed. He had been instructed to call at exactly 17:47, not a second sooner or late. He was to say a few words and hang-up. The call had to be short, and from a payphone. The Instructions had been very clear, he had no margin for error. 

He looked down to his cracked watch for the third time this minute, he only had 30 more seconds. His heart was pounding in his chest, so much so he could hear every thump after thump after thump. Taking a deep breath, he counted a few more seconds before slotting the coins, one by one, into the payphone and dialling the number he had memorised weeks ago.

He listened as the phone rang once, twice, three times before the recipient answered. “Hello, Damian. I am so glad to hear from you, and at the correct time too. Good boy.”

“I was arrested earlier, one of the cops, some girl detective or whatever, recognised my snake.” He said gruffly, trying to keep his voice quiet in such a public setting.

“And…?” The voice rang out, satisfied at the report so far.

“She seemed thrown off by it. Then they let me go, no charge.”

The voice laughed softly, so much so Damian wasn’t sure he had heard it. “Excellent. You did well.”

“Is that all you wanted from me? Are we even yet?” He snapped. 

Damian had been in business with the person behind the voice for a while. He had never seen their face or even learnt their first name. He was desperate one day when his phone rang, he took the offer, forever debiting himself to the faceless voice.

“Not quite,” The voice said before pausing for a moment. Damian nearly hung up the phone when they began to speak again. “Although, if you want to pay off some more of that debt, I have another job for you, relatively easy.”

“Easy?” He snapped, “Nothing is easy with you! I’ve just been arrested, and youre saying whatever comes next is easy.”

“Calm yourself, or I won’t be so nice next time. You’ve seen what happens when I decide that I want someone gone. It’s why I enlisted you of course. Besides, a child could do this job.”

Damian leant his head back, cursing everything he could think of. “Fine. What is it.”

“I need you to mail me something…”

----------

The payphone was found destroyed in the morning, the machine was smashed to bits. Local CCTV placed a hooded man waiting there for nearly half hour before taking a short phone call. 

It didn't take long for the case to wind up on Detective Bradford’s desk. Opening the file, her eyes cast down to the images captured by the surveillance camera. It was a little blurred, but once she focussed into the details, it was unmissable. A snake tattoo with bright red eyes.

Swiftly, she grabbed the file and images, weaving throughout the bull pen to Lopez’s desk. It took some restraint not to slam it down.

“Hey, I think we were right to be concerned about Barret.” She opened the file again, letting Angela look inside, “This wasn't long after he left here.”

Lopez picked up the file, flipping through the pages as (Y/N) had done only a few moments prior. “I think we need to go to Grey, this should be added to the reports. But that phone is smashed, you do know that we will have no record of anything dialled from there? It’s another loose end.”

“Yeah, I know, but it is something, more than we had at least.”

“It’s something to watch out for.”

----------

The crinkled paper felt familiarly rough under her fingers as she ran them along the pages. Ideally she wouldn’t have had to read books in such disrepair but you do not get many luxuries in prison, so she would take what she could get. Placing the book down, the prisoner sighed, laying down in her bed. 

She didn’t need a clock to know what the time was, she had spent years observing the routines of the days and the movements of the guards. She could practically tell what they ate for lunch at this point. It was a simple way to keep her mind occupied, death row wasn’t full of mental stimulation after all. She knew that in less than four minutes a guard, most likely Donovan, would be coming round with mail that had been pre read and searched for any kind of threat. 

They couldn’t be blamed, if anything she found it adorable. Their pathetic attempts to stop her communicating with the outside world. The prison should have known about her contraband phone and stationary, she did make it far too obvious after all. But then again, if someone doesn’t want to see something, it has a slight habit of not being noticeable. 

Two minutes. 

She could tell by the sound of the cart entering the corridor. It was a creaky old thing, one of the wheels tended to spin away from the others, making an awful screech when it was turned. It was a shame the prison was too cheap for a can of WD-40. It would’ve made her predictions a tad more challenging. 

Thirty seconds. 

She sat up again, straightening out the bright orange prison uniform she wore. She had always taken pride in her appearance and the uniform made no dent in that. Power was exerted from looks, and she would be damned if she didn’t keep a firm hold of the power. 

Ten seconds. 

Slowly she stood up, stretching her arms out, waiting for the door hatch to open

Five seconds... 

…four…

…three…

…two

The hatch slammed open, a parcel of torn open letters shoved through. As she had predicted, the voice of guard Donovan rang out before the hatch slammed shut again. “Rosalind Dyer, mail call.”

Chapter 18 | Chapter 20

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @agentred27 @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4

Tags are open :)

[kittytheartist]

it's very popular for people to say that it makes sense that Teru would like Akane instead of Aoi, and yes there's a concerning amount of evidence but there's arguably more reasonable evidence towards Teru liking Aoi, and it's quite over looked, nonetheless it's not as random as you'd think at first glance!

Teru is quite interested in what Aoi does and likes, he asks questions on a regular, Aoi even sees him as a cute dog with how happy he seems, and in her mind he's usually saying good morning and asking her something

Teru as a character doesn't open up, especially not to students, we've seen him open himself to Akane some, and has fully opened up to Kou in the latest chapters, but he goes up to Aoi and gives his opinion as well as listening to her's. Teru is very interested in her! although they only talk ground level things but Teru is not one for being good at socializing, but I'd say for the students it's a common occurrence for the school king and queen to be next to each other

and here it says it's Teru's free time, what is he spending it on? Aoi of course! like his siblings he has no problem giving away his time to a trivial conversation, because he just likes being around her.

he gets excited whenever he's around Aoi

and here he's complaining about how he's tired

but when he meets Aoi at the convenience store he gets happy and bubbly, I know in this chapter it says he gets more upbeat when he's tired but Aoi's also around! the whole chapter he starts up conversation

he tells her all about himself, she thinks he's weird because she never asked, never needed to know and is very confused on why he'd tell her all this, but I think even Teru has a hard time understanding that, now this is just my personal character speculation but I think Teru barely understands this feeling of love, he knows platonic love, but being around her gives him this sense of security and giddiness, he's excited to tell her everything, so he just goes with it, he's heard people talk about this feeling so it must be natural, something he openly indulges in, because Aoi is just so precious to him.

and he's seen blushing here, I know he's happy but those eyes can't hide anything haha he definitely looks very fond of her there, and his "or something" shows he has not planned this out but simply likes the idea of doing it with Aoi, even seeing if she'd like the shark gummies better because she picked up the shark candy, although he's willing to take a no from her and do it with Akane he still much prefers to do it with her (also he's said how gross Akane can be around Aoi so I presume it's sort of his goal to treat her nicely)

and he went as far to ask if she hates him, but he already knew the answer he just wanted to find out what she would respond with, because he of all people would know opinion does not equal an honest answer, but she did give an honest answer, because she also gives this answer in her card, she puts "nothing I particular" on both opinion slots

but it is cute that she chose Teru to send a card, I think that shows when she thinks of someone Teru is in the runnings, he's someone she thinks about because he comes up to her, that's what she remembers him for.

anyways Teru is always a gentleman yes, but I think he was quite aggressive with protecting Aoi

he got In the register's face really quickly, making sure Aoi was safe, because it's shown that Teru very much dislikes Aoi being treated badly, and again, asks her a question, except this time he just listens

Aoi seemed very dumbfounded that he would ask her this, because Aoi thinks nobody really cares for her, but she shares this with Teru, because he protected her, and after hearing this Teru tries to cheer her up, I'm sure he knows being upset is no good, especially with how upbeat of a person he is. so they make the gummies together, another moment with Aoi I'm sure he enjoyed.

now with the most popular theory working against TeruAoi is how Teru acted towards the severance. Teru went out looking for Akane because of his glasses, and started saying how he wasn't expecting to find them on the far shore, looking at Aoi, he never expected to see Aoi here again. he may have seemed to not care but I have a few ideas working in my favor.

Teru is an exorcist, when he was talking to Kou in chapter 97 we could see how hard it was growing up, he's delt with other kids being able to see supernaturals and going against him believing that it's their friend, it must have hurt Teru considering he has no friends, and has to exorcise it to protect them from danger they don't even know of. with Aoi he also never expected to see her again, the woman that makes him feel bright, he cares a lot but has been taught not to care, but after seeing her there he decided that he can save her, he will, he wants her back, desperately, but to get her back for Akane, in Teru's eyes, Aoi and Akane are good for each other, he does not agree with how Akane goes about it but he knows they love each other, that Teru has no chance compared to them. so instead of getting her back for himself he's retrieving the one he loves to be with another. I think what brung him to this conclusion is when they were walking in the tunnel, Aoi was sharing herself like she never has before, Akane and Aoi made promises for each other, Teru knew she wouldn't make it but after hearing that she had all these wishes she couldn't do he wanted to grant them for her, he knows that she will be happy with Akane, so he will save her, for Akane. now he planned to save her from the minute he saw her, but he decided to do it for Akane at the tunnel, that's just my speculation though, but he did plan on saving her, that's why he gave her the amulet

we could also see how upset Teru was after that, he seems tired and very sad looking, there's a lot of speculation on it being because of seeing Akane so wrecked over Aoi, but it can also be because of hearing Aoi and Akane talk about the future where he knows he's not a part of.

now now I know what you're wondering "what about the body language signs that usually say he's lying when he says he likes Aoi?" yes good point! I've seen people talk about how Teru's body language says he's lying, and yes, it could. but I think there's a different reason

but he's been shown to scratch at his cheek or hold the back of his neck as normal mannerisms, heck it was one of the first actions he did on panel when we first met Teru, this may not be a strong counter argument but I think he's just shy, he tries to cover his face in the shrine and he says this immediately planning on walking out. the first time he said this Akane wrote it off as a joke, but in the shrine Teru says he wants Aoi back, and Akane asks if he was serious, Teru completely ignores this dilemma of nobody knowing whether he's serious or not again, he's always avoiding how he really feels, and instead he moved on saying he has a dream, she's part of that dream, Akane has a guess but nothing that can fill in that blank. but Teru words it as "realizing" his dream, now this, again, is just my character speculation, but it's been shown that Teru never had an interest in being an exorcist, and wanted to do something different, but being a cool older brother sounded better than persuading anything, I bet Aoi makes him feel like he can do a lot of things he originally didn't think he could do.

I'd also like to talk about this little interaction, Akane says that he'll tell Aoi all about how useless Teru was, and this motivated him to a high level, with what he says here it seems that he could not stand being useless in the saving of her, he thinks Aoi should be with Akane but in no means wants to be invisible to her, he wants her to know that he helped.

well, there's also other extras adding to Teru being nice to Aoi and making Akane mad, this can also be AidaIro hinting towards their rivalry. Teru wants to go head to head for Aoi but ultimately thinks Akane is better for her, despite knowing he'd treat her very nicely. and we've all seen how Teru warmed up to Aoi in the latest chapters! he seems very attached to her, all in all I think they have built an interesting relationship, on both sides, Aoi has shown she believes nobody wants to get to know her but on the contrary I think she feels validated by Teru in an odd way, a way she'll never admit, I won't say it's love but I think she could really enjoy having Teru as a friend!

[ditch-lily]

so I wanna do a little trip/photo dump of my latest jeffy adventure. I may delete this who knows but for now, adventures below!

I tbh wasn't at my best during this trip, I had a bit of a not fun ocd episode while traveling and I do feel like I spent most of the trip trying to get back to my baseline okayness - so to my lovely friends and travel partners thanks for being awesome and treating me with kindness!! I really, really appreciated it 💖💖

okay now time for obnoxious trip slideshow haha

chiang rai was beautiful. we went to an insanely gorgeous garden cafe on the first day

on the second, we went to the white and blue temples

btw I love doing street photography so 2 of my favs from chiang rai:

and now...jeffy day

tbh by the time Jeff was onstage I'd been standing around since 2pm (he got on stage...at 10pm 😭) the things We Do for Barricade. I was soooo sweaty and frazzled by then

it was a very cool set up tho! it was a little music festival, lots of food/etc, and they lit up hot air balloons over our heads

we saw a few performers and slot machine!! who were right before jeff. finally got to see them live and ohmygod did they pop off!! at one point they were in front of us just tearing up the stage for ages, they threw guitar picks at us haha (I did not catch one lol)

and then jeff.....look we all know how that went down

but here's a screenshot of when he Looked at me the first time and i fucking realized if I can see them.....they can see me. no??? jfc i think i like super reacted, flailed backwards a bit I think. i prefer to not beobserved okay?? but anyway and that's why he came for my throat later i believe. demon

then look after jeff it was just jumpscare after jumpscare, bumping into his band member at midnight in our hotel lobby (all the musicians and sound crew were having a big drinking party on the steps of the hotel. jeff wasn't there tho) and then the next morning bumping into rasika checking out etc etc

okay some of my fits on the trip! day 1, then jeffy day and the next travel day, which ended up being the Day we followed Jeff and his team around at the airport, unintentionally

each of these in front of the cupboard nowhere near as good as jeffs lol

some of the treasures i got at the show! these are mainly bread's amazing creations. @patpran thank you so much i adore my jeffy cat stickers ;.;

also (made by another fan) the jeffy pop socket i'm screaming,,,,,should i put it on my phone..

okay now bkk!! i got a few street shots cause i love doing that

then witnessed jeff on the bts and found some cat pants

and went plus size shopping at platinum mall. i knew about the names before hand but oh my god im laughing

and then!!! bang sue junction, which is mile and apo's fav hang out spot for vintage shopping. sadly we didn't bump into them. but it was such an awesome place to explore

we also wrote a lil letter each and wrapped up some presents to send to jeff. i would like to say it takes 2+ ppl to puzzle out a thailand post box and how to put it together (and there was only 2 of us at that point lol ;.;)

okay i was gonna add more but that's heaps, i think. despite my brain being frazzled 24/7 on this trip it was a good one. thank you so much to @patpran who showed me all the cool places and was a very lovely travel partner!!! you were awesome!!!

i'm honestly so grateful i got to go, and have these experiences ahhhhh, i'm gonna treasure it (sorry post trip emo-ness) anyway i gotta get back to work now but, if you've read this far, you're a star haha <3

[misted-buttercup-enjoyer]

Happy Undertale 8th Anniversary, I tried writing a oneshot but it wasn't working, so here, take this offering of incorrect quotes instead, and may it appease the beast for another year.

~~~

Frisk, at Alphy's window: I thought I'd find you here! Chara, corporeal: WE COULD HAVE USED THE DOOR!!!

Undyne, the night Papyrus came to her house at midnight: I hate you. Papyrus, holding up a surprisingly well-drawn picture: WELL, ACCORDING TO THIS PICTURE I DREW OF US HOLDING HANDS, THAT IS NOT TRUE!

Undyne: Alphys is off at an appointment, so while she's gone, I’m going to cut the sleeves off all of my shirts. Papyrus: Why? Undyne: She's like 90% of my impulse control.

Frisk: Undyne, when’s your birthday? Undyne: Why? So you can look up my natal chart? So you can figure out my weaknesses? So you can destroy me? Frisk: ...So I know when to wish you a happy birthday.

Fallen Human Perseverance: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Asgore: I type how I think. Toriel: Odd that you type at all then.

Asriel: *is hugging Frisk* Chara: Hey! It's my turn to hug Frisk! Kris, kicking down the door: What do you mean, "yOuR tUrN"? We agreed now is my time slot! Asriel: No, It's still my turn! Frisk, suffocating: Guys, I love you, but just because I'm the smallest doesn't mean you can be hugging me constantly! Chara: But we need the moral support! Asriel: And you're small! Which is cute! Kris: If I don't hug you right now I think the depression will kick in and my body will stop functioning. Frisk: Well- I, I guess.

Sans: Last week, Papyrus tried to flush a live lobster down the toilet "because it worked for Nemo".

Frisk: Why are you like this?? Flowey: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

Papyrus: WHEN I DIE, I WANT SANS TO LOWER ME INTO MY GRAVE SO HE CAN LET ME DOWN ONE LAST TIME.

Alphys: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say something homophobic and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face. Mettaton: Mettaton: I like you.

Asriel: Can we go to a haunted house? Chara: What's wrong with the one we live in? Asriel: Wh-what? Chara: Good-night, Asriel.

Frisk: How’s practice going? Flowey: Terrible. I want to stab everybody there. Frisk: Okay, just don’t get any blood on your petals. Flowey: …you shouldn’t be condoning this. Frisk: Don’t tell me how to live my life.

Frisk: What if mayonnaise came in cans? Asriel: Well, that would suck because you can't microwave metal. Chara: Good morning to everyone except these two people.

Toriel: Yes, I'm adopting seven ghosts and you cowards can't tell me no!

Frisk: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

Mettaton: I've never encountered a problem that can't be solved by an spontaneous musical number.

Frisk, to Toriel: If you see Chara, give them this message *makes a neutral face* They'll know what it means. *later* Toriel: Oh, and Frisk said to give you a message. *makes a neutral face* Chara: Oh no. The neutral face of displeasure.

Frisk: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Frisk: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

Napstablook: Why did you guys dress up as each other for Halloween? Mettaton: Maddy is the scariest thing I could think of! Mad Mew Mew: Mettaton told me I should pick the dumbest costume possible.

Toriel: What's worse than a heartbreak? Alphys: Stepping on a cat's tail and not being able to explain that you're sorry.

Muffet: Would you like something to drink? *Opens fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper- Frisk: Spiders? Muffet: Spiders it is then. Frisk: No, that wasn’t- *But she was already pouring them a brimming glass of spiders…*

Papyrus: WHAT ARE YOUR ADJECTIVES??? Undyne: …You mean my pronouns? Papyrus: NO, I KNOW WHAT YOUR PRONOUNS ARE!!! WHAT ARE YOUR ADJECTIVES??? Undyne: …I dunno. What are yours? Papyrus: NOISY AND WORKAHOLIC!!! Undyne: I’ve never had something go from making no sense to making complete sense so quickly.

Monster Kid: I have one brain cell and it bounces around in my skull like a windows screen saver. Monster Kid: When it hits a corner perfect, I’m allowed one good idea.

Toriel: I'm cold. Sans: here, take my hoodie, pal. *meanwhile* Alphys: I'm cold. Undyne: *sets the whole city on fire*

Alphys: So, what's for dinner? Undyne, staring at the spaghetti, and the house, that she and Frisk burnt down: Regret.

Chara: Don’t trust everything you see on the internet. Frisk: Pfft. What possible nonsense could come from the internet? Oh. Did you know that the Earth is actually flat? Chara, taking away Frisk's phone: Yeah, that enough for you.

deltarune special: Noelle: Goshdarn it, the printer broke while printing out Rudy's birthday invitations. Carol: Well, what are they supposed to say? Noelle: "Rudy's birthday". Carol: So, what do they say instead? Noelle: "Rudy's bi". Carol: Carol: Works out either way.

[call-me-copycat]

Heyoo, I hope your having a great day/night!

Congratulations on 400 followers!! That's a great achievement right there 😁

I was wondering if I could join your writting event? If so, can I please ask for a "Pick a Prompt" for number 8, the characters being present mic and a f!reader? (as in "xreader")

It can be romantic, but can you please avoid any drinking/sexual themes?

If not, it can just be platonic!!

Wish you the best!

Hello! Thank you so much @bingewatchintilldawn for requesting for my writing event! I'm so glad you're here ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧

I'm so sorry for the delay, I do hope you enjoy! Sorry for any grammatical errors as well, it's a little late where I am right now, so I'm a little tired ‪(´•ᴗ• ก )‬՞ ՞

Request for my writing event!

Slot Chosen: Pick-A-Prompt 1

#8: "Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?"

➜ CHARACTERS: Mic & Fem! Reader (Platonic - I'm sorry, I didn't know how to write this off as romantic)

➜ Word Count: 2230 [I got a little side-tracked with this one, I hope you don't mind (ㅎ.ㅎ ) ]

➜ WARNINGS: Mentions of food, I believe that's it

Students chattered amongst themselves as the day passed by, with conversations ranging from light-hearted compliments, to angered rants, to teasing taunts and the scoffs that would come from the receiving end. It was a relaxing day, one that you were grateful for since that usually meant that there wasn't much work for you to do.

Glancing at the small stack of papers that needed to be organized and stapled so the class can receive them the next day, you sighed before cracking your knuckles and getting right to work.

One might begin to think you were a teacher at UA, what with all that you do, but that wasn't exactly what you were. While you weren't a teacher, you were a teacher aid, tasked with helping and following the orders of whichever teacher called upon you for the day.

It seemed you were doing something new each day, whether that be helping out Snipe with rearranging his books for history class, or answering the students' questions when Eraserhead was sleeping, or even dashing throughout the halls to get a folder to Nezu. It's one of the many reasons why you enjoyed your job so much. Not only was it interesting, but the people were also quite amusing as well. Some more than others.

That was probably the reason behind why you were always offering to help assist Present Mic with his class, often enjoying the thrill of his funky attitude and excitable demeanor. Kind to everyone and ever so intriguing, you felt it was just a little easier to talk to him at times. He wasn't very judgemental (then again, neither were any of the teachers really), and could hold and start any conversation with anyone with ease if he so wished.

Oftentimes a couple of his students would stay behind in his class during lunch and eat there, enjoying the jokes and conversation their teacher brought. It was only a plus to it all that he never really required you to do much work for him. While it seemed he wouldn't be one to do much work or preparing, you couldn't help but notice how each morning a newly stacked pile of papers were always printed and stapled before everyone else had even started. Or how you never had to help grade any papers since they'd all be finished the same day they were turned in. It was one of the many things he never really spoke about but still quietly did in the background.

Thinking back to that fact, you smiled as you found yourself once again not needing to do much work, the stack of papers thin and simply needing to be stapled in groups.

"Sorry it's a bit much today! The printer wasn't workin' on me, so I'm a little behind today. Oh well! Ya live ya learn!"

Turning to the voice coming from the door to the classroom, you smiled as you saw Mic walking through, work bag and a folder in one hand and a water bottle in the other as he fumbled with the door. After getting up and helping hold the door open, you smiled at the "a-thank-you" that you were given as he walked by.

"It's not much really, did you need anything else done today? Or is that it?"

He placed his work items down as he waved his hand at you, "No, no! That's all for today! No need to overwork yourself, I'm no Eraser!", he laughed, enjoying his jab to his good friend while you shuddered. Aizawa was much more strict, and wasn't always keen on having a new face around. While he did have his moments of leniency, they were often overshadowed by the stacks of paper given to grade, or the number of times you had to run down the halls to fulfill the errands he had asked. No, he was indeed no Eraser.

The day ran smoothly, with schoolwork being handed out and students being taught. It was something you hoped you'd reach one day. Until then, being an assistant wasn't too bad.

Debates were common occurrences in his class, seeing as he taught English after all, and not only did they commonly happen, they were sometimes encouraged. 'It's good teaching material', he had told you as the students discussed the pros and cons of having heroes advertise products. There were times when they had to be shut down though, sometimes provoking the wrong kind of passion in the students. And when screaming matches occurred, there wasn't a single soul that challenged the Voice Hero.

UA was certainly a one-of-a-kind school. All the teachers there treated you as an equal despite your lower profession, and each had a unique spark to them. Midnight always loved having you around for her art classes, though there were times where you couldn't handle the risque attitude that she radiated. Vlad was much more professional in a sense, but that never meant be didn't enjoy a good conversation every now and then.

You learned that during breaks Snipe loved to play cards, and that Midnight loved to challenge anyone in anything. Lunch Rush appreciated having company whenever he was cleaning, and Recovery Girl loved to have someone to listen to her stories about her past work. It was a tight-knit community, and although everyone ran under the same set of rules, it couldn't feel more familiar.

-

The bell rang for lunch, signaling the day to be half-over. Resorting to mindlessly doodling on a piece of paper at the teacher's desk could only ever get you so far before it became redundant. You normally sat at Mic's desk since he rarely ever sat still, always up and walking around the class, or up and down the length of the chalkboard when the students were taking a test. Even then he wasn't completely silent, settling on whistling some jaunty tune he either made up or heard somewhere.

With the class being dismissed, all the students left for the cafeteria for the day, leaving you and Mic to eat your lunch in the teacher's lounge for the day. It was only when you entered that you remembered you had left your lunch at home.

Turning to Mic, who was whistling that same tune to himself once again as he flipped through his planner, you spoke up.

"Hey, I forgot my lunch today at home, do you mind if I run down to the cafeteria to pick something up real quick?"

This caused him to look up, but before he could say anything, a woman's voice cut him off.

"You can have my lunch, honey. I actually just came from the cafeteria so I don't need it."

Midnight walked the rest of the way in and held up a little tray that she had gotten for herself from Lunch Rush. "I couldn't resist, he made my favorite today so I had to go down. Take whatever's in the fridge, I should've left my bento in there from yesterday"

Nodding, you smiled and thanked her as you rummaged through the fridge, finding it empty except for a single bento box in a plastic bag. It didn't look homemade, but rather store bought as the box still had the price sticker on it.

"I'm gonna head off to the office, I need to work out some typos on an assignment before I print it out. You okay with staying here?" Mic questioned as he packed his things and headed to the door.

"I'll be fine, you can go if you need to" Was your answer as you ate your lunch, the bento being an oddly simple one that just consisted of three compartments; one for rice, one for beef, and one for pickled vegetables.

This was the best photo I could find, I hope it helps (=ﾟДﾟ=)

It wasn't something you were used to seeing Midnight eat, as she normally picked bentos that mainly consisted of vegetables, and her go to protein being fish. It was new, but you didn't question it.

Once lunch was finished, you checked the time to see you still had about 20 minutes left to yourself. Taking advantage of what time you had left, you decided to go give Mic a visit, tired of sitting alone in the lounge as Midnight had only come by earlier to grab a cup of coffee.

However, you nearly bumped into a figure that was entering the lounge at the same time you were exiting, the deep "Watch where you're heading" giving you a clue as to who it was before you even saw him.

Looking up and meeting eyes with Aizawa, you hastily apologized and went to leave, only for a single sentence to freeze you in place.

"Who ate my lunch?"

Aizawa was crouched in front of the communal fridge, frowning at the empty shelves before slowly turning to look at where you were frozen in the doorway with one foot out.

Hesitantly, you slid your eyes over to him. As soon as your eyes met you panicked and quickly scuttled out of the lounge, giving him the answer to his question and causing a chase to form.

Dashing throughout the empty halls, you immediately spotted Mic walking down in the opposite direction of where you were headed, casually chatting alongside Cementoss.

"Hey, [Name]! So nice of you to stop by- Whoa, whoa, whoa, why the rush?!" He questioned as you quickly made your way over to him, only to position yourself right behind him and attempt to use him as a human shield of sorts.

Just the same, his question was answered as an annoyed Eraserhead stomped his way to where the three of you were standing.

"I just want to talk to her-"

"It wasn't me!" You retaliated, trying to weasel yourself out of this mess.

"Okay, okay, why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?" Mic was beyond confused, having been forcefully tugged into the situation.

"She ate my lunch, that's what she did" Aizawa answered, an agitated tone to his voice. "The one day I actually bring some food to eat, and it's gone"

"N-no, I... "

Aizawa raised an eyebrow and silently waited for your answer, never one to raise his voice or cut someone off to argue. His belief was to just let the person try and fail to explain themselves, causing them to dig themselves into their own hole without him having to retaliate.

Mic then thought back to what Midnight had told you earlier, suddenly understanding what had occurred.

"Ah, man, it looks like ya caught me Shouta"

You, Cementoss, and Aizawa all turned to look at Mic with a confused expression, the situation growing even more complex at the sudden confession.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued, "I'll pay you back, promise, just don't go blaming her. Y'know, maybe you should've labeled your lunch in the first place, then we wouldn't be here, now would we?"

Aizawa scowled at his friend's cheeky tone, throwing his hands in the air. "You know what? I'm not going to stand here and argue about the food." Turning and beginning to walk away, he muttered just loud enough for you all to hear, "I'm going to take a nap, don't disturb me"

You watched Aizawa's retreating figure disappear down the hallway, possibly to his class, and turned to Mic. He spoke before you could get a word out, "Now that that's taken care of, let's get back to work, shall we?", right before bidding Cementoss a temporary goodbye.

Walking down the halls, you still had to ask him why he had taken the blame, especially knowing he'd be getting an earful as soon as school got out.

"Oh, none of that! No need to get so worried about me, I've been annoying everyone here since I first started working." He slipped one hand into his pocket as the other held a folder and a clipboard for his teacher-ly duties. "Did I ever tell you about the time I put plastic wrap across the door frame, only for Nemuri to walk right into it?" He laughed out loud as he spoke, clearly enjoying the memory that was brought back to him.

"Man, she was pissed! I had to hightail it out of there if I wanted to see the next morning sunrise! Y'know, I ought to ask her if she remembers that, cause I sure do! "

You chuckled alongside him, happy to have such a kind, yet intuitive coworker... No, friend. Yeah, it was nice to be surrounded by such charismatic people you could call your friends.

There was just one thing you needed to do.

-

Aizawa scowled as he walked through the halls towards the teacher lounge, hoping that at least no one stole his rice koji packets. Those were strictly his, at the very least.

Honestly, this was my best guess as to what it is that he eats ┐⁠(⁠‘⁠～⁠`⁠;⁠)⁠┌

Opening the fridge though, he was met with a surprise.

Inside was a plastic bag with his name on it, in handwriting that was clearly not his. Opening it revealed the same bento he had bought from the store, only this was a new one. Alongside it, was a note:

"Sorry for eating your lunch. I didn't know it was yours. Hope this repays for the mistake.

Till next time, [Name]"

Aizawa smiled.

He knew it was you the whole time.

Thank you again for requesting! I really appreciate you taking the time to do so! Please have a lovely day ( ⑉¯ ꇴ ¯⑉ )ﾂﾝﾂﾝ

*A little side note: I think writing for Present Mic is actually very fun. I love his character a lot! ʕ ◦`꒳´◦ʔ

[passivenovember]

Happy Valentines Day!

Dedicated to my babies over in the smut cave. Thanks for making everyday so saturated in horniness that I can’t feel anything but love. You’re the best.

And to @cherrydreamer , who is so good I’m pretty sure God could learn a thing or two.

--

Steve’s not his boyfriend. Billy ties honesty around each wrist to keep himself in place whenever things start to feel a little too much like a roll of party balloons.

And they always do, with Steve. Because Steve’s an idiot.

He’s full of shining romance. He parks the Beemer outside Billy’s house every morning before school even though Billy’s got a car because Steve hopes, against all hope, that Billy will roll over and be his girlfriend.

That he’ll let Steve hold his hand and carry his books and allow Steve to drive them to school. Billy and Max, fighting over the radio station and tracking mud onto the floors while Steve grins like a moron.

Harrington has a death wish disguised as chivalry.

Because even though Billy aims to chew his head off and Neil would probably bury them both alive if he ever caught on, Steve climbs through bedroom windows and tucks notes onto mattress pillows and in between the slots of lockers because he’s got flowers growing out his ass.

Love’s gonna win out, for him.

Billy doesn’t get it. 

The hope. The peppery, love-sick gestures. He could pick them by the handful, each colored for a different moronic display of Steve’s lingering affection. 

And it’s not that Billy hates flowers, it’s just. 

It’s spring. 

It’s the promise of the days getting longer and air gusting warmer and the hope that even though he’s still living like a stoned crab under the ever-present weight of his father, Billy could relax into Steve’s attention and summer will drape itself over the land. 

If he just gave in, July would burn hot on his shoulder blades.

–

Billy doesn’t give in. 

He can’t.

He could lie and say it’s all part of some rude awakening. He’ll take Steve’s dick up his ass, down his throat, blooming like cactus blossoms between both hands, but he doesn’t love him.

But, turns out, as January melts into six more weeks of winter and Heather’s warning that this thing between Billy and Steve’ll vanish as soon as the ground starts to thaw, Steve gets restless.

Billy can’t blame him. Knows they’ve both got a lesbian ear-worm chewing their confidence to shit. 

Heather urges Billy to stop being such a piranha and Robin tells Steve he’s gonna get his heart smashed and tossed like a new penny into the ocean. Lost. Forgotten on its descent to the bottom of the hapless sea. 

And to be honest, no one’s ever been able to guess why Steve chose this. Billy, in all his pathetic glory. 

But he did. He picked Billy like a thorn from his side.

And they hammer themselves into something like the mockery of a relationship because that’s what people do. They fuck. They smoke pot and dry hump and fuck again, each chewing on the idea that maybe this won’t last. 

Billy’s good at ignoring it and Heather and himself until the weekend before Valentines Day. 

Steve pulls out of him. Rolls onto his back and says, “You never gaze at me,” even though his spunk is cooling the sheets under Billy’s naked thighs.

Billy shifts on the pillow, blowing smoke at the ceiling so it won’t end up in Steve’s eyes.

Steve won’t look at him.

He’s got the sheets tucked up around his chest, arms crossed over their slick face like he’s ashamed of himself, maybe, for the first time ever. Regretful of Billy. Of this thing between them.

Billy frowns. “I don’t do what?”

“You don’t gaze at me,” Steve tells him, Adam’s Apple bobbing like he needs a cool drink. “Y’know. Like when you see a pretty girl–”

“Don’t like girls, remember?”

“Okay, then,” Steve rolls onto his side, propping himself seriously on one elbow. “Say it’s a cute guy. Handsome.”

“Alright.”

“When you see a handsome guy, you know? In a nice car, do you ever–”

“Is it a fast car?”

Steve blinks. “Does it matter?”

“‘Course it does,” Billy sucks on his smoke again, teasing, “Fast car’s a sign of taste. And to be able to afford that kinda car you’ve gotta have money. And in my experience, any guy with money’s got a cock on him.”

“Every guy’s got a cock.”

“Yeah, but not every cock’s a good one,” Billy winks, “Ain’t that right, Rolls Royce?”

Steve turns red, all the way down his chest. Billy has the familiar urge to pin him to the mattress and lick at his nipples, see if they taste like strawberry jam when he blushes like that.

But Steve’s eyebrows are threaded together. Serious, when he says, “You’re saying the only thing that’d trap you in a gaze is a nice car?”

Billy shrugs. “I don’t gaze.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I could, though,” Billy looks over at him, guilty for the thrill that rolls through him at the sight of Steve, naked and pissed off. “If we’re talking about a fast car, and a rich guy, and a nice cock–”

“Forget it,” Steve snaps, sitting until the sheets pool around his waist. “Forget I said anything, alright?” Harrington jostles the bed, swinging his legs over one side. He reaches for his pants, tugging them on so roughly Billy’s worried he’ll give himself rug burn. 

Billy puffs on his cigarette. “Where you going, pretty boy?”

“Gotta piss.”

“You’re putting clothes on for that?”

Steve drops his pants as if they’ve caught fire. “Maybe I’ll leave.”

Billy snorts. “You live here.”

“Well, I’m not gonna kick you out,” Steve snaps. Annoyed. He’s never been this irritated with Billy before. So pressed he won’t even look at him.

Steve always looks at him. 

Gazes. 

It’s not a great feeling.

Billy props himself against the headboard, trying to backtrack whatever landmine he ate shit over. Steve’s seething on the edge of the mattress, so far away he might as well be in Asia. So close Billy can map the constellations between his shoulder blades. “Come here,” Billy says softly.

Steve shakes his head. 

“Steve.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“I know,” Billy pinches the butt between his teeth. “Come here anyway.”

One moment yawns into the next and then Steve’s toes follow each other back onto the mattress. He tucks under the sheets, eyes tacked to the ceiling. 

“What,” Steve says. Taught and fragile. Bitchy.

Billy chokes on a swell of something. Swallows it down. “You don’t wanna cuddle?” He asks, exactly how Steve always does. Batting his eyelashes where he knows Harrington can see. 

But Steve won’t budge. He crosses his arms. “Tell me what you want and I’ll consider it.”

And Billy. 

He’s a pro at flipping the script. At hiding in plain sight. He’s been pretending to want this and nothing more if it means he’ll get Steve. A couple nights a week fucking in a bed he never sleeps in, watching every flash of desperate pleasure on Harrington’s face because there’s no chance he’ll run into the weight of anything when he’s caught in orgasm land. 

Billy doesn’t say the only time he feels good is when Steve comes. Doesn’t own up to the way it gets him through the swell of night, the memory of being so close to someone who’s good because it’s his nature. 

Steve never has to try. He’s perfect.

And Billy isn’t ready to admit anything. That he recognizes it. Feels Steve’s brilliance like a twisting knife in the back; Tell me what you want–

Billy clears his throat. “Do you want me to leave?”

The possibility makes him nauseous. Steve takes the cigarette that’s handed to him, perfect plush lips closing around the butt of the thing.

“Tell me, baby. I’ll go right now. You’ll never have to see me again–”

“God, you’re a dumbass, too, you know that?” Steve hands the cigarette over, jaw tense. “If I wanted you gone I would’ve kicked you out forever ago.”

“You. You mean tonight, or–”

“Yeah,” Steve tells him softly. “Months before that. Before I fell in love with you.”

Billy chews on their cigarette and watches Steve in between puffs. The way his lashes flutter when he’s trying not to give the side eye. 

Billy feels haunted. By everything. His future. The way Steve’s so free with his words and his truth, tossing them at Billy like red roses and rotting tomatoes. Steve says he loves him, and Billy’s heard it before. Steve’s sentiment gets lost in the roiling anger that makes Billy who he is. 

But tonight, it’s silenced.

Steve’s I love you’s have that effect on him. Cutting all the noise from the sky as his attention drapes over Billy like the lid of a coffin. Like sunlight, too. 

Daylight.

Billy turns to face him, his wrist cracking under the weight of his head. “Do you want me to gaze at you more?” He asks.  

Steve chews on a mouthful of smoke and then blows it at the ceiling until it looks like a cloud.

A bunny or an anvil. Something.

“I could,” Billy says. “You’ve got everything that grabs my attention, you know?”

“What? Money and cars and–”

“Yeah, but. It’s not only that shit, I was. I was kidding.”

Steve blinks. “You were kidding?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Steve says, as if tasting the caramel drop word on his tongue. He shifts on the mattress, glancing over and away again. Teasing. “Alright. What else about me grabs your attention?”

“You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? Itemized list style?”

Steve’s demeanor falls flat again. A punctured balloon trickling from the sky. “Never mind,” He says, “Forget it. You obviously don’t feel the same about me as I do about you–”

“You make me laugh, okay?” Billy spits. 

He swallows thickly. Fiddles with the lip of the sheets. His words burn like acid. He’s cut to the bone. 

“I like the way you drum on your knee when there’s a song you dig. You have passions. You read, but you’re not very good at it. You help me study even though you mispronounce everything. You’re kind.”

And suddenly, Steve’s looking at him. Through him, too, past every swirling atom, toggling layers of bullshit and titanium walls meant to keep everyone out.

But under the cosmic starfall of Steve’s gaze and his attention and his love–

Billy’s walls never stood a chance.

“I like you,” Billy grits. 

There. 

He said it. He told the truth and now Harrington can out a lid on those eyes and stop looking at Billy like he ran over the family dog–

“You mean it?” Steve asks.

As if Billy’s saying something else. Like he’s admitting to a crime, or accepting a ticket to go anywhere in the universe.

Billy frowns, not understanding. “I guess so.”

Steve watches him for another endless, yawning moment. “Prove it.” He says, and finishes the cigarette.

–

It’s kind of how Max was, in that weird space between Billy’s first I’m Sorry and where they are now. 

Billy had to work for it because Billy has to work for everything. It’s like purgatory. Paying out of pocket for all the shit he’s done wrong in his life. 

Steve says, “prove it,” and Billy doesn’t really believe him at first. 

They aren’t together. Billy isn’t his fucking girlfriend, and Steve’s old enough that he’s supposed to have stopped wishing for grand gestures. 

Doesn’t he know that shit isn’t real? That husbands get their wives flowers because they got caught fucking their secretaries, and boyfriends only tuck fuzzy animals into their girlfriends arms to apologize for getting drunk and covering her in bruises?

But the more Billy turns it over in his hands, the more he realizes he should’ve seen this coming.

Steve’s got a pension for anything sappy and romantic. 

He goes hog wild for John Huges and sets money aside for February 15th, when all the Valentine’s candy is on sale. He sings the Ronettes at the top of his lungs when Billy’s pissed off, wiggling his hips and begging Billy to be his little baby. 

Steve pretends not to trace love hearts on storefront windows. He ignores thoughts of dinner reservations and avoids all conversation of expensive springtime bouquets until someone asks his opinion, and suddenly Steve’s a florist. 

Last year he even helped Max and her Nerdy friends plan a romantic double date night, complaining all the while even though he made Billy hide with him in the back room so they could spy–

And.

It hits Billy like a freight train.

“No,” Billy tells himself. He shakes his head, curls catching obnoxiously on the pillow beneath him. “No way–”

He’s not asking the Nerd Squad for help/

He’d never hear the end of it. They’d roast him alive and it would cost him every cent in his California fund. Curly top would accuse him, all over again, of not being suave or good or smart enough for someone like Steve, and the rest would co-sign without ever saying a word, and–

No.

Billy isn’t going to put himself through that type of ego-death all for a pair of legs, and that’s final.

But just as he starts to doze off, dreams lapping at his toes like warm ocean water, Billy settles with the fact that he has no other choice.

It’s his ego or Steve, and if Billy doesn’t play this right he’ll never love again.

–

“He says you never gaze at him?”

Billy digs his nails into his palm. “That’s what I said.”

“Steve’s kind of confusing.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I mean, it’s so weird,” Max’s shoes thump against the base of the couch, filling their empty house on Cherry lane with music. “You throw plenty of gaze at him.”

“I know, right?”

“You are gay-ze,” Max teases.

And if Billy were any less desperate, he might stick a wet thumb in her ear for that one. But he’s on his last leg. He’s tearing his curls out by the root. He’s climbing the walls, he’s–

Max frowns. “Tough crowd.”

“It was funny,” Billy tries, smile stiff and unnatural. “I was gonna laugh, but–”

“But you’re worried if you don’t do something grand and rom-com perfect Steve’ll dump you.”

Billy glares at her. “There’s nothing to dump. We aren’t dating.”

“Sure,” Max says slyly. 

She’s such a little shit. She’s the worst.

Billy bites against the urge to bully her. To pinch her arm and revert back to his old self to get what he wants out of the situation.

Max shrugs her knobby little shoulders and admits, “Steve’s not that hard to romance.”

Billy drops the act entirely. “How the fuck would you know that?”

“When he helped Lucas and Mike plan our double-date last year he gave this obnoxious speech about how girls pretend like we want diamonds and flashy declarations, but really it’s the thought that counts.”

But. “Steve’s not a girl,” Billy thunks his head on the back of the couch, exhausted.

This is bullshit.

This is so difficult–

“It’s not like you could afford to do anything obnoxious even if you wanted to,” Max tells him. 

And Billy gets that it’s meant to be reassuring.

Steve was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Anything he wants he can get for himself, including expensive bouquets and five-star dinners. Hell, he could get himself off, too. Doesn’t need Billy for anything. Not really. 

But that’s half the trouble.

If Billy can’t live up to the Valentine's Steve can plan for himself, he doesn’t know why he’s trying. 

Why he’s losing sleep, sick to his stomach over the thought that this might be it.

“Stop spiraling,” Max sits on the coffee table in front of him, knocking their toes together until Billy pins her with a heat-less glare. “When you imagine a perfect day with Steve–”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why? Max demands, “Because it involves a lot of open mouthed kisses?”

“Just tell me what you think he would like.”

“A handjob, probably.”

Billy sits ramrod straight. “Max, let’s watch the mouth.”

“Don’t take it out on me. I’m pretty sure that’s what every guy wants.”

“Steve’s not every guy, he’s. He’s fucking perfect and he was born in a castle and he’s always had anything he’s ever wanted and I’m a piece of shit–” 

“Billy, you’re fine,” Max tells him. Because, of course, she sees right through Billy’s vitriol.

He’s made of glass.

He’s a window. A crystal slipper, plummeting to its brain-shattered death.

Max knocks their toes together again. “Even if you served him a burnt pot of macaroni on a dirty plate, tucked over a sticky dining room table, he’d love it.”

“Why,” Billy snaps, “Because it’s me.”

“Because it’s you,” She says, eyes blue and earnest. “Now, walk me through your perfect date.”

–

In the end, mop top and the wheeler kid think it’s sweet that Billy’s trying in the first place.

They give him his blessing.

On February 14th, a day that’s so cloud-covered and rain drenched that Billy almost wants to call the whole parade off and stay in bed until the sun rises red and new, Steve’s dorks manage to get him out of the house.

His parents are in Rome, because.

Of course they’re in Rome. The city of love.

And Billy’s been shaking hard enough to cause an Earthquake since the second he got into the shower this morning, but Max smiles and says, “Tonight, Hawkins is the most romantic place in the world.”

So Billy chooses hope.

They light candles. They decorate. Billy orders heart-shaped pizza because he’d probably give them food poisoning if he tried to cook, and suddenly it’s 5:00.

The dorks clear out.

When the front door opens, Steve runs headfirst into a hallway covered in wilting daisy petals. He’s immediately tangled in the strings of four stubborn Get Well balloons because Max tried her best.

He drops his shopping bags when he sees the candles.

He almost brains it on the stairs, because Billy’s waiting in a suit, collar uncomfortably tight around the knob of his throat.

“Billy–” He says, with tears in his eyes.

But Billy’s gotta spit it out, before the words choke him to death. He takes the stairs two at a time, arriving at the bottom.

“Steve,” He says, kind of breathless. “I don’t just like you. I love you, and. Max helped me plan this because I’m an idiot. And the balloons are all wrong and I didn’t cook you anything, not even macaroni, but I love you, and--”

“It’s perfect,” Steve tells him.

And Billy doesn’t want to brag, but.

He proves it. Seals the deal with a kiss.

[collectivecloseness]

Oohh for the spotify thing, how about 20 with Eddie Munson??

Literally a great pick, and again another on my character playlist for this specific person. It’s Cherry Bomb by The Runaways!

Eddie Munson x reader

Eddie always drove you back after school, no matter if you were going to his place, yours, or anywhere else in Hawkins. Walking hand in hand with you through the corridors as you both chucked your bags in his van and managed to leave that shithole behind, and go somewhere for the rest of the day no one would bother Eddie, or the both of you.

Today Eddie had finished taking you out for a milkshake, conveniently the both of you taking long enough to finish that by the time you got back to Eddie’s trailer, you’d both be able to say a quick bye to Wayne before his shift, and it meant you had the entire place to yourselves. As you did most evenings... and nights when you could find an excuse, or sneak out.

Although you had to pick up some stuff from your place before you could go over to Eddie’s, so he was driving there first. Hoping that you’d both stop off at another perfect time, one where there was already food on the table, that your mom always encouraged Eddie to have some of.

He really did like your mom, mostly at first because she always liked him too. She never treated him differently, or bad, even from the start. She literally welcomed Eddie into her home with open arms, giving him a hug that first time she met him, probably because of how much you’d raved about how wonderful Eddie was before.

And Eddie was pestering you about if you knew what your mom was making tonight, and if she might have already made it by the time they get there, when it reminded you of something you forgot to tell Eddie this morning.

“Oh actually, my mom and I were talking about you last night.” You nodded from the passenger seat.

Eddie stopped asking about food, intrigued, turning to you with an expression that was inviting into a full conversation, interested as he let his eyes go back to the road. “Oh yeah? What about? Can your mom not stop complimenting me and going on about how you’ve got such a bitchin’ boyfriend?” Eddie rolled the last couple of words off his tongue, holding it at the base of his open mouth as he beamed at you, head exaggeratedly bent down to tilt up at you, chuckling at your earned laugh.

“No!” You retort smiling. “She said that earlier.”

“Ohhhh, of course!” Eddie beamed, going along with your ‘very serious’ nods. “My apologies. Why were you talking about me?”

“We were listening to a song in the car and she said it remained her of you. And to be honest I totally agree.” You explain, already sensing the eager interest arising in your boyfriend, who would be bouncing in his seat the whole journey if you kept it from him.

“Ooooh, what is it!?” Eddie says excitedly, licking his lips as his eyes flit between you and the road, tapping his fingers on his wheel, almost like a subconscious drumroll. “Holy Diver? Enter Sandman? Please tell me you finally showed her some real Ozzy.”

Instead of answering, you move your hand and eject the tape currently playing Seek & Destroy, letting it fall to his dashboard as you rummage inside your bag by your feet.

Only when you ejected Eddie’s tape, in the middle of a song, a genuine pout spread across Eddie’s poor face. “Heyyy wha- wait.” He whined pitifully, and you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, at his genuine big brown eyes.

He literally repeated that song twice in the 11 minutes to the milkshake place. “Eddie.” Is all you say, your hand down your bag, just looking at him. And he gets over it real quick. Shuffling up in his seat, attentive as you pulled a blank tape out, and slotted it into place, interested to hear what song was about to start playing.

‘Cherry Bomb’ by The Runaways hadn’t been exactly what he was expecting.

You looked to him as it started playing, noticing he wasn’t shocked, or upset, or ecstatic, he was genuinely thinking about it. His eyes looking up at he tapped his fingers on the wheel to the beat, before looking at you.

“Really?” He says genuinely, taking it in, considering it, and wanting your thoughts on it too, as he thinks more about it, already knowing the song of course. He did like it.

“Yeah actually, I think it does fit your...” you gesture Eddie up and down with your hand, looking at him, and remembering as you listened to the song yesterday you thought all about Eddie Munson “-well, you.”

“Huh.” Eddie nods, nibbling his lip as he nods slightly to the song. “I see it actually.”

“Yeah.” You add quietly, both of you starting to properly nod to the song now. And when Eddie turns to you, cracking a smile, you know he’s about to sing, and knowing him so well, you join in at the exact same time.

“I’m the fox you’ve been waitin’ for!!”

You both burst into laughs, the excited and sudden unison so you two, singing it to each other dramatically, before beginning to rock in your seats. Smiling as you sing the popular song together.

“-Hello mom! I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch- cherry bomb!”

You both exclaim the words, the energy in the van always this high.

“Hello world, I’m your wild girl!”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the ‘wild’ part, and you remember just how ‘him’ this song sometimes feels.

“Yeah. It is you, this song. You’re my wild girl.” You tell Eddie, smiling entrancingly at him, your baby girl, and Eddie very quickly plays along.

“You’re my wild girl.” He says himself leaning in all teasing and mushy to tell you, before you do the exact same thing. Both repeating the words “You’re my wild girl”, “No you’re my wild girl” to each other over and over, until you both pull back from where your lips are extended comically and gushily at each other, laughing too breathlessly from the pose for anyone to repeat the joke.

Before you both end up joining in the song again, quick to make sure you can get to the chorus.

“-ausin’ teenage blues. GET DOWN LADIES, you got nothing to lose!”

You both sing the lyrics loudly and pumped with each other, jamming out together like you often do in his van, and practically anywhere Eddie or you can have music.

“Hello daddy, hello mom!-“

You started the next line, but Eddie instead chose not to ch-ch- with you, and turn to ask you openly. “Hey! Maybe that’s how I should announce myself to your parents when I walk into their home real soon. With the cherry bomb part and everything!” He suggests, a casually serious look on his face as commitment to the bit saying it, but his deep brown eyes sparkling with playfulness.

“Oh yeah. That’ll go over radically.” You both nod in comical agreement, like you’re making fun of middle aged men in a business meeting. And you even manage to throw a thumbs up and a solid wink to Eddie, that he replies with a twisted lipped confident smile, and the okay signal with his free hand. Both throwing out “yeah’s” back and forth to each other, in agreement of this excellent plan.

Although as the next part of the song comes on, one bit is dropped for another for Eddie, as you both listen to the chorus of moans playing in the song.

And as you wonder why Eddie was turning to you yet again, and without singing, he quickly outdid you on the jesting scale.

“Your mom wasn’t reminded of me with the moaning part of the song right?” Eddie asked you, as if he was shocked at the sudden thought she’d overheard anything, but not even bothering to hide his grin.

You slap his shoulder, laughing as he lets one out himself, punching his elbow lightly, just pretending he was ‘saved’ because he was driving, even as you chuckled, shaking your head ‘disapprovingly’ at Eddie with a smile. Which was not a rarity.

Eddie gestured with his hand out as if he had a point, still smirking. “I mean it’s not like anyone’s heard us when you always make us both be so quiet when we’re up there-“ another whack, this time to his knee, cutting him off short.

And you snort laugh first, rolling your eyes at him as Eddie smirks at his suggestive quip. Although beaming with full teeth at you, proud to hear that noise meaning he made you laugh so. And God if you can’t just beam yourself, seeing that stupid smile on his face.

There’s a singular moan before the start of the next verse, and this time Eddie wasn’t quiet listening for it. Instead he leant in close to you, and moaned in time with the song, breathy and sensual and overdramatic in your face.

This time your hand is in his face, pushing him back as Eddie laughs into your palm and spread fingers, his soft skin, pliable lips, and warm breath teasing you, although being teased himself as you pulled away.

Chuckling, you brought your knees up in your seat, feeling your heart race as it so often did, even though you’d been dating Eddie for a while now, he still found ways to make you fall in love over and over. Actually, you don’t think that ever stopped happening.

And at seeing your curled up, excited and chuckling expression, and after he knew his flirting made you feel good, as always, Eddie winks at you, open mouthed smirking, his tongue on his bottom lip.

God your boyfriend was so hot. You admired his body, and hair, and clothes, and his shining personality next to you right now, feeling your blood rush through your body as you let yourself flutter with how extraordinary you knew Eddie was. You were so lucky.

“I’ll give ya something to live for” Eddie sings beautifully to you, before taking your chin with his thumb and forefinger, looking at you for the moment as he sings, shaking your chin lightly. “Have ya and grab ya, till you’re sore!” He squeezes your chin, with his teasing, scrunched smirk.

You giggle in his hold, your whole face lighting up as you love the atmosphere you always have with Eddie. Smirking right back at his perfect face. Not batting him away this time.

Until Eddie lets go himself, leaning over your lap with his arm stretched in his leather jacket, quickly opening the glove compartment by you, to show you his assortment of lollipops he keeps in there just for you. Ever since you two started dating.

You gasp excitedly, mouth open with a beam and thrilled eyes at Eddie! Leaning in to grab a cherry one for him and you, quickly taking off the easy slip wrapping, and popping yours into your mouth, relishing over the cherry flavour gushing over your tastebuds and cheeks.

At the same time leaning Eddie’s cherry lolly over to him, and giggling as he waggles his tongue out, and eventually wraps it around the cherry lollipop, his tongue flicking wetly against the tip of your thumb in amusement.

Taking the sweet red treat into his mouth, lolling it into the corner of his cheek, as he smirks at you. His mouth finally silent, except for breathy laughs that are so Eddie, but his eyes saying it all, glowing and sparkling just so unbelievably in love with you.

Eddie unable to stop stealing glances of you in his passenger seat, as you both speed off down the Hawkins road. Head banging together, especially with Eddie’s shaggy mullet, to the guitar, drums, and last yells of “Cherry bomb! Cherry bomb! Cherry bomb! Cherry bomb! Cherry bomb! Cherry bomb!”