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heyidkyay · 3 months

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I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name | Before we grew up

A/N: Hey! Back with another addition to the George and Birdie universe since it was so well loved!! Honestly, the whole thing still surprises me and the fact that some of you wanted more of them actually made my heart hurt!! But I've missed them and writing this brought me a whole lot of joy, so I hope you enjoy! If this does well or it’s wanted I might write a few more like this sooo let me know x

Flashback moments | 'Before we grew up'.

“Okay, so when you’re ready just let go of the brake.”

I blinked, holding the steering wheel with an undeniable grip. “Right.” I murmured but didn’t make a move to follow the words.

George, whose brilliant idea this had all been, sat in the passenger seat of his dad’s Volkswagen, buckled in and attempting to exude an air of calm I really didn’t feel.

“You gonna let go?” He asked me after a long minute passed.

I swallowed thickly and removed my stare from where it’d been burning a hole in the windscreen so that I could look over at him. “How do I know when I’m ready?” I asked him and really didn’t appreciate the laugh he gave in return. I scowled. “What’s so funny about this? It’s a valid question!”

George just shook his head and exhaled breathily, obviously trying his best to dim the amused smile he now wore, “Honestly B, you’re just overthinking this and besides, you have it easy. It’s an automatic, barely have to do a thing.”

My scowl deepened. “Barely ‘ave to do a fing.” I mimicked in an accent similar to his deep drawl, it was his turn to frown then. I merely smiled sweetly.

“I’mma ignore that for now, ‘cause you’re a twat.” George retorted, “But also ‘cause I need to get the car back before dad notices it’s gone. So, can we get a move on?”

I inhaled deeply and fought off a whine that wanted to escape me- who the fuck said driving was easy?

“G, I’m being dead serious right now.”

He simply snorted, humoured by my anxieties, “I know, babe, and you’re doing so well.” I raised a brow at that and he smiled, “What? You are! You’ve turned the thing on, ain’t you?”

I took a hand off the wheel just to swat him, “Hilarious.” Before I was gripping it again once more, “Come on, just give me a count down or summat.”

G shook his head and looked towards the sky, as though anyone up there cared for the likes of us, then he sighed, “Fine, on three yeah? Then you let go of the brake and go.”

“On three.” I agreed with a nod, though it sounded breathy even to my own ears.

George reached out a hand to squeeze my thigh, probably in hopes to spur some proper motivation into me but all it did was make me think back to the previous evening when he’d had a free house. I shook my head, along with the thoughts of his hands and his lips, and settled into my seat with a newfound determination as I looked out onto the road.

It wasn’t as though it was anything too terrifying, I didn’t even have to bare left or right, just keep going straight. But still, I had the horrible feeling that this would be the thing that would seal my fate- imminently, or when George’s dad finally got home to find that his car had a barge pole sticking out of its front.

I released a shaky breath.

“Okay- one, two…”

And on three I finally let my foot slip away from the pedal, screaming a little to myself as the car began to roll.

“Yes, Birdie!” George grinned over at me, bouncing in his seat as he moved, “Now the accelerator.”

I laughed stiltedly, eyes wide as I pressed down on the other pedal, feeling the car bob at the sudden pressure.

“Easy.” George corrected but he was still smiling away, hand tapping at my leg. “Good girl. See? You’re doing it!”

And I was. I really was.

“Oh shit- break, break!” He then shouted out and I slammed on the brake pedal hard enough to have us both jerking forward in our seats, though the cat that was crossing the road continued in its languid stroll, barely even sparing us a glance.

It was after that I let go of the jittery excitement I felt, heart beating a mile a minute and my grin kilowatt. “Fuck.” I giggled, then glanced over to my left. G seemed to follow the former motion, chuckling to himself whilst we sat in the middle of a side road full of dimmed townhouses. “I wanna go again.” I told him.

He snorted, shaking his head and grinning. “Thought you were shitting yourself a second ago?”

I shrugged, not caring in the slightest how much truth his statement held. “Can we?”

G huffed another chuckle but ultimately dipped his head, “Go on then, when we get to the garages I’ll walk you through parking.”

“Alright, but only if I can do a doughnut or somethin’ first.” I countered, like I had any authority here. But George just laughed and said nothing more whilst I went to pull away from a stop once more.

–

Christmas was always a hectic time of year. No one could deny me that. But since my dad’s passing, it had become a holiday that always came too quickly and dragged on for too long. This year though, this year was gonna be different.

See, I’d been living at Matty’s since the summer after the ‘incident’ as I liked to call it- everyone else seemed to roll their eyes at the name though. And whilst staying with them I'd come to realise a few things about myself.

Firstly, I loved all kinds of food.

Sure a strange thing to find out at my age, but I had an excuse! Alright? Staying with mum I’d pretty much had to feed myself and with money so scarce we’d only ever really had enough for the basics, or at least I did. Most of mum’s boyfriends had practically kept the food they liked under lock and key, even though nine times out of ten they hadn't been the ones to buy it. And so, this meant that I hadn’t had much opportunity to branch out, to get a feel for anything that wasn't canned, bagged, or frozen.

Secondly, I had a tad bit of childhood trauma lagging behind me. Most of which I’ll spare you the intimate details from, but that had an impact on the things I did even when I felt safe. Like, I hated not knowing if there was someone new stopping at the house, made me feel all itchy in truth. And the way I went out of my way to make sure I’d locked everything was a bit much; windows, my bedroom door, the backdoor, the front door, the bathroom door, the side gate. At one point I’d been stressing over the front entrance late at night but had felt too stupid to go and make a check to see if it was in fact closed, which had resulted in me waking Matty up to help me deal with a panic attack.

And thirdly, I had no idea how normal people spent Christmas.

This came to light when I’d all but baulked at the many traditions not just Matty and his family had, but also the rest of the lads.

Ross and his lot often ate their Christmas roast at lunch time then went out for a chinese later on that night. How they had the room for it, I have no idea. Hann, on the other hand, was dragged back and forth between all of his family members on the twenty-sixth instead of the fifth, due to extended family coming to visit from all other parts of the country.

Denise had a list of things she loved to do this time of year.

She’d set up a nativity outside, alongside the rest of the lights and usual decorations for the neighbours to come see. She ordered a real fur tree and then sent the boys out to go collect it with their dad once the day came. It was humongous and dropped needles everywhere, but was oh so beautiful. They always decorated it as a family, taking turns to put the topper on and finding the best branches to place sentimental ornaments. Stockings were hung by the fireplace with initials hand stitched on. And chefs typically came to cater Christmas day.

Gifts were also a big thing.

A very BIG thing.

As in, they were all so lovely and thoughtful to the point that Matty and his younger brother would have an actual meeting over what to get their mum and dad- which had melted my fucking heart, because what?

This year, I’d been forced upon them. But instead of making me feel like an intruder, they did what they always did and made me feel like one of their own.

“Love, will you get that for us?” Denise called out to me just as the doorbell went, “It’ll only be the postman.”

I smiled and nodded, happy to be of some help whilst she sent herself into a tizzy over tinsel. There’d been many deliveries as of late, so I was pretty much used to adding to the post-pile that was going on in the downstairs office.

Wandering out of the kitchen I padded over to the front door, opening it only to find that the postman wasn't there at all.

I blinked stupidly at the sight I was met with, a bright pink cab had taken over the majority of Denise’s driveway and getting out of the backseat was only my Nana.

The door handle fell from my grasp as I stepped forward on instinct, unsure of what the hell was even happening. “Nana?”

The older woman smiled over at me, eyes twinkling with mirth. Then a voice shouted out and I spotted a head of bright red curls fly out from behind the car’s boot to greet me, “Aunt Del too, Dove!”

“What?” I muttered, still so bewildered, but then I caught sight of another familiar face, a face that I didn’t think I'd be seeing until tomorrow. “Did you do this?”

George just chuckled softly, stepping closer to help my Nana over the gravel walkway, but he wasn’t the one who replied to my question. “Came down to fetch us, din’t he?” Nana replied in his stead, stretching a hand out once she got close enough, I blinked again and hurried to take it.

“He did?” I heard myself murmur, still so in shock. Practically rocking with the explosion of it.

Nana gave a sweet laugh, wrapping me up in a much needed hug and pressing a gentle kiss to my head before she pulled away, “Phoned us up a bit ago, wanted to surprise ya, darlin’.”

“Well, God. I’m surprised, that’s for sure.”

They all laughed, probably at the expression cast over my mug, but I couldn’t find it in me to even rebuke them. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Best believe it, doll.” Aunt Del replied, smiling over at me whilst she and George trailed the bags they’d seemingly brought with them up onto the front step. “Our Georgie here went an’ planned it all, picked him up from the train station this morning.”

I let Del tackle me into another tight hug, allowing her to pepper me with a barrel full of kisses. All the while it seemed that Denise and Matty had come out to see what all the fuss was about, only- they didn’t look shocked at all.

“Surprise?” Denise sang out when she caught my gawping, waving a hand out from where she stood in the doorway.

“Did you all know?” I asked, my mind racing to catch up with the situation at hand. “How- I- This is so mad.”

Matty snorted at my crappy attempt at a sentence but I watched as he made his way on over, his mum just behind, so that they could introduce themselves. “All G’s idea, mate. Knew you were missing them and so, yeah we made this happen.”

“I can’t- just, wow.” Then I glanced over to where the one person that currently meant so much to me stood on the outskirts simply watching on. He glanced back.

“Merry Christmas, B.” George said, grinning slightly over at me, obviously pleased with my stuttering reaction.

I released the heavy breath I hadn’t even realised I'd been holding and strode over towards him, he caught me in his arms and held me with a prominent strength I didn’t know he had.

“Thank you.” I whispered once I felt as though I could, tears threatening to fall at the sincerity of it all. Never had I ever been so surprised. “Thank you.” I repeated and pressed a light kiss to the skin of his neck that was hiding behind the collar of his shirt and other many layers.

George squeezed me a little closer, then rocked us back and forth. When I finally pulled away I peered up at him with wet eyes and the brightest smile.

“I can’t believe you got away with all this.”

He laughed, but not his typical kind, no, this one was loud and carefree. Honest.

“Is that all you really care about?” He asked me, teasing, hands now at my hips.

I grinned upwards, “‘Course, can’t believe you did all this under my nose!”

Turning back towards the crowd that had gathered by the door, George’s arm fell to a loose hold on my waist and we made our way back over. Denise was already chatting away with Aunt Del and Nana had somehow roped Matty into an explanation about the band and the few stories she’d heard through G and I during our catchup calls.

At that moment, my heart had never felt so full. In fact, I don’t know how any other Christmas could top it.

–

It had been a lovely day. The most amazing time, actually.

It still felt so unreal to look over and spot Denise in her wedding gown, all happy and glowing. In Portugal of all places, too! Matty was currently off trying to get with one of the many girls attending his mum’s reception, whilst his younger brother, Lou, tested his charm on a couple of the older folk in an attempt to make a bit of money, everyone else seemed fine to just putter about from table to table.

It had started to spit a little while ago, summer rain they’d said, and so I was the only one still standing out in the garden now, the rest of the party somewhere inside the villa or over at the gazebo. My bridesmaid dress was speckled with tiny water droplets that shimmered in the late setting sun but nothing too heavy. The rain here was almost a total contrast to that back home.

“There you are.” I heard someone say just as a pair of hands came to wind themselves around my waist, I leant back in their hold, smiling at the familiarity. “Thought you’d done a runner.”

“Nah, just enjoying the last of the sun.” I hummed, intertwining my fingers with his atop my stomach.

“As well as the rain.” George added with a light chuckle, but he didn’t seem to mind it much either. I nodded lightly, then felt him tuck my head under his chin. “Ross is sloshed.” He told me.

“Already?” I asked around a soft laugh, he hummed. “Lightweight.”

The noise from the party seemed to trickle out to greet us, but no one else seemed to want to step out into the rain. Content with the warmth inside.

“You havin’ a good time?”

I smiled at the question as well as the thumb that soothed the back of my hand. “The best.” I told him honestly, “It’s all been so lovely. Reckon I’d want something like this, you know.”

George was quiet for a long second before he spoke again, “Thought you didn’t want to be tied down. As free as a bird and all that.”

Chuckling, I shrugged a single shoulder. “Dunno. Seems cool, plus you get all that cake.”

An ugly snort escaped George at that, “Only in it for the cake then, I ‘spose.”

With a grin I tilted my head back so that he could see me, “Always!”

He narrowed his eyes down at me, eyelashes fanning the skin beneath them, then tugged me in a bit tighter, “You’re a right menace, you know that?” He murmured against the jut of my collar. I squirmed slightly in his hold, his breath tickling my neck.

“I guess it’d be nice to have a big party too.” I tacked on, if only to tease him further. And it appeared to work too, because he spun me around in his arms and I laughed at the unexpectedness of it.

The rain started to come down a little harder then, but I could hardly feel it with the weight of his gaze on me and the beam of the sun. An old Billy Idol song echoed out into the courtyard from the main room and George grinned at the sound, a favourite. “Fancy a dance?”

“What, back in there?” I wondered, not really all that up for being back amongst everyone else just yet.

George just shook his head though, as if reading my mind, and then dragged me further out onto the grass where the dampness which clung to the clipped stems soaked my feet.

He started to sway then, in time to the beat of Eyes Without A Face.

“Didn’t think you even could dance.” I murmured to him, then giggled as he spun me out, raindrops flicking up the backs of my legs before roping me back in.

“Full of surprises, me.” He quipped before dipping me into an exaggerated bend.

I gasped, unable to help myself, then shook my head, hair falling with it. “Warn me next time.”

George just grinned, eyes squinting with the power of it, then pulled me in closer, chest to chest now. His hands on my back, mine wrapped behind his neck. “Would make things boring, wouldn’t it?”

“What’s so bad about boring?” I shot back.

He huffed, the force of it fluttering my dampening hair and catching on the shell of my ear. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He assured me and I heard more than saw his smile.

Pleased, I hummed, loosening my hold on him so that I could rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. The rain continued to fall on and around us, neither George nor I caring for the way it clung to every available inch of our skin.

“I love you.” I heard him mutter above me, so softly I hardly even felt it resonate in his chest.

I turned to glance up at him again at that, eyes trailing across every inch of his face, taking in every detail he had to offer. “How do you know? For sure?” I questioned him in a faint whisper even though there wasn't another soul about to hear. I was still smiling away, only it was ever so soft, so warm.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I know I love you because even on my worst days you’re all that gets through. There’s no pretending with us, you know every inch of me, the good, the bad, and still, you choose to stay. So I’ll love you today, and then tomorrow. I’ll love you til the day I die, and if there’s life after that, I'll love you then too.”

My eyes watered at the hit of his words, having expected something stupid like ‘you give good head’, or something as simple as ‘I just do’.

“You always manage to surprise me, you know that?” I chuckled quietly, fingers threading through the length of his hair.

George lifted his brows in turn and so I just smiled, humming as I coaxed him closer so that I could finally lean in for a kiss.

“I love you.” I repeated his earlier words once we parted, laughing loudly when he swept me up off my feet and around in a circle.

“You’d better.” He quipped straight back, laughing now too before he slipped on the damp grass beneath us and sent us both sailing to the ground.

“George!”

But he continued to just chuckle away, eyes bright and beaming. God, I thought, I was so, so gone.

#the 1975 #george daniel #fic #i guess i’ll take this pain fic #the 1975 band #matty healy #fluff #x reader #ross macdonald #adam hann #birdie #birdie and G #heyidkyay #george daniel x reader #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic

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putaposyinyourhair · 10 months

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Slowly but Also Like All at Once

noah diaz x mirage (aka the literal personification of ‘wait, did you just flirt with me?’ and ‘have been for the past year but thanks for noticing’)

warnings : mirage isn't exactly himself but it's only temporary and also more f bombs dropped

oh shit here comes reek

“Could you— can you transform into, like, a Civic hatchback or somethin’?” Noah inquires quietly after having to clear his throat a bit awkwardly— probably because he’d spent pretty much the entire ride back to Brooklyn in stunned silence, still mulling over Optimus’ request. “Y’know, before we roll into the neighborhood?”

There’s a beat of silence. And Noah wonders if he’s said something wrong.

“I know you did not just ask me to do that,” Mirage snorts then, in a clearly offended tone. Because apparently, Honda Civics are beneath him.

Noah scowls heavily down at the radio.

“Oh, my bad, your highness—” he begins to apologize sarcastically, only to be cut off by the mech.

“You’re not forgiven,” Mirage points out snobbishly.

Noah lets out a frustrated groan, fingers curling inward around his box of electronics— which he’d pulled into his lap earlier amidst the silence, as something to busy himself with, checking if everything was as promised; not crushed— and one of his fingers pokes a hole straight through the worn down cardboard.

“Look,” he sighs. “It’s broad daylight out. My man, Reek, he’s always out front and he’s gonna recognize you in a second flat. Plus, everybody and they mama knows I’m way too fuckin’ broke to be crusin’ ‘round in a Porsche, bro. Come on.”

Mirage’s radio emits a droning buzz, followed by an annoyed groan just as the Porsche begins to slow and pull over.

“The things I do for you,” Mirage snaps. “They’re not natural. It should be studied.”

He pops the driver side door open.

“Out.”

Noah’s brows furrow, confused, but nevertheless he does as he’s told and climbs out with his box still in hand. He rounds the Porsche and steps onto the sidewalk, chuckling awkwardly under his breath as a few pedestrians glance his way when the silver and blue vehicle burns rubber and sends up a puff of smoke as Mirage peels away from the curb.

Noah feels kind of abandoned for a moment.

His chest does that stupid twisty thing that he’d thought it had finally decided to stop doing. He wonders for a moment if he should’ve sucked it up and just not said anything.

But then the loud sound of an engine revving calls his attention and Noah’s jaw drops when a silver Volkswagen Corrado SLC VR6 coupe with blue stripes rolls up to the curb.

It’s definitely not a Civic.

The passenger side window rolls down.

“I hope you know this is like the equivalent of me asking you to shave all your hair off for me.”

Oh.

Noah definitely should’ve just sucked it up. Maybe asked Mirage to drop him off down the block instead. There’s so many other ways he could’ve gone about this.

He feels like shit. And it shows in the way his shoulders droop and he lowers his head, looking up at the Corrado kind of sheepishly.

“I’m just yanking your chain, sweetspark,” Mirage admits casually. “I don’t give a flying frag. Hop in.”

The words are said so flippantly, Noah almost misses the new term of endearment the bot somehow manages to sneak in there— at least he thinks it’s a term of endearment anyways; the cybertronian version of sweetheart.

His cheeks flood with a swift rush of heat. And he tells himself it’s just because of the stifling heat outside. But he can’t exactly explain away that stupid hot jabbing sensation in his chest that’s also decided to make a sudden return.

He huffs and rounds the car once more, Mirage opening and closing the door for him as he climbs inside.

“You’re a dick,” Noah grumbles beneath his breath as he sets his box down on the passenger seat then fastens his seatbelt, his face still flushed.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you didn’t already know that.”

God damn him, he’s right too.

Noah decides to ignore him for the next few minutes it takes for them to roll up outside his apartment building— evading the bot’s comments and questions with a few spaced-out hums. Instead, he keeps watch out the window for anyone who knows him too well and might think it’s weird for him to be pulling up in a strange car. A car that Noah still— despite the change into a Volkswagen— could never be able to afford.

Mirage’s engine cuts off as soon as he pulls over, after expertly parallel parking between a Mazda 626 and an old Lincoln town car Noah recognizes as Mr. Delano’s, a senile old man that lives a few doors down from him and sometimes gets into shouting matches with the ghost of his ex-wife, Shirley.

“Ladies and gents, we have arrived at our destination,” Mirage announces through the radio with a crackle of static— and Noah thinks he does it on purpose, to make the dumb joke sound more authentic. “974 Wilson Avenue. You may now unfasten your seatbelts.”

It’s adorable, unfortunately, and Noah can’t help the smirk it pulls out of him.

“Got ‘em.”

Noah shakes his head and turns to look out the window— hoping that it somehow hides the quickly-growing full blown smile on his face from Mirage.

Across the street, Mrs. Moreno’s triplets are playing double dutch with a long jump rope that obviously used to be a few smaller jump ropes, which have now been tied together.

“So, I’m picking you up later tonight, right?” Mirage inquires after a moment, his playful tone falling into a far more somber one— like he’s kind of scared Noah’s going to say no. “After you talk to your family and pack?”

The smile on Noah’s face drops.

He’s had a long ride back to Bushwick to think about the answer to that question. A long time to think on Optimus’ offer. And he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

Or maybe some part of him does but he’s torn between his options.

On one hand, he has to face his ma— who’s already gonna tear him a new one for missing dinner and not checking in— and tell her he’s leaving again, with barely an explanation as to why. And on top of that, he has to explain it to Kris too. At least when it comes to his little brother, he can give the kid a version that’s closer to the truth.

On the other hand, he has to do something that he’s pretty sure is gonna break his heart; say goodbye. Might break Mirage’s heart too— or rather, his spark.

A few buildings down, Noah can see Mr. Jackson’s son— Noah thinks his name is Paulie— feeding the neighborhood stray cats, something that usually brings his neighbor, Mrs. Vargas, out with a broom in her hand, yelling at him in Spanish because she hates that the ‘pequeños demonios’ keep eating the plants she has on her windowsills.

Except Paulie doesn’t speak Spanish and usually just waves obliviously.

Noah glances down at the radio and heaves a soft sigh.

“Mirage,” he begins to say. “Look, dude, I don’t know if—”

Mirage’s radio releases a garbled, high-pitched whine that makes Noah wince a bit.

“Aw, come on,” the bot moans— and Noah imagines that if the mech were in his rootmode, he’d be kicking his legs in a fuss. “You can’t leave me with those tightasses, man!”

Noah huffs softly beneath his breath, digging his teeth into the smooth skin on the inside of his bottom lip.

“I’ll beg if I have to, gorgeous.”

Motherfucker…

Noah’s just about had it with him.

Mostly just because he thinks his heart might give out with the way it keeps tripping over a beat every time the mech uses one of those goddamn pet names.

Is it flirting? It feels like flirting. But Noah’s not sure. Because he’s a loser and he doesn’t actually know the first thing about flirting. He’s never had time for that before.

He’d always been too busy serving in the army and then running around, worrying about Kris, to even let himself stop and think about something as frivolous as trying to get his flirt on.

Plus, Noah doesn’t know if cybertronians even know what flirting is.

Sure, it feels deliberate. But it’s totally possible Mirage is just repeating shit he’s heard on the streets, or on TV. Right?

Noah’s eyes widen.

What the hell is he even thinking?

He shakes his head.

“Look, Noah. I know this is… a big decision,” Mirage comments softly. “I really want you to come with me. I mean, come on, man. We’re partners. But… I’ll understand if you don’t.”

Why does the mech have to be so freaking sweet about it too?

Noah wants to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes and push until he starts seeing stars.

“How about I give you some time to think about it?” the bot suggests. “I’ll drop by later tonight. That sound like a plan?”

Noah just nods. Because he doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him in that moment and drop like he’s some kind of pre-pubescent teenager.

The Corrado’s driver side door clicks open.

Noah unfastens his seatbelt.

“Don’t forget your gizmos,” Mirage reminds him pointedly. “I know how important they are to you.”

A sharp squawk from a few feet away has Noah’s head snapping up to see a wide-eyed Reek— who’d clearly crossed the street, headed in Noah’s direction— trip over nothing but air and go down hard on the pavement.

“Oh, shit,” Noah exclaims, jumping out of the Corrado. “You aight, man?” He zips over to his fallen friend’s side and reaches down to help the man up.

Reek, with the help of Noah who’s got ahold of one of the other man’s shoulders, stands on shaky feet. His nose is busted and a small rivulet of blood is running over his lip and down his chin.

“Shit, bro, you’re bleedin’,” Noah tells him.

But Reek doesn’t seem to be paying Noah or the blood on his face any mind. No, instead he’s gawking at the Corrado behind Noah.

Noah feels his muscles tense.

“Noah…” Reek begins slowly. “Did that motherfuckin’ car just talk?”

Noah thinks he should be commended for the way he immediately snaps into action, releasing his friend and taking a step back, forcing out a chuckle that’s only kind of awkward.

“A talking car?” he snorts, reaching back to shut the Corrado’s driver side door in a way he really hopes looks chill and unbothered. “Man, you trippin’. You been smokin’ way too much of that chronic shit.”

He hears the window make a whirring noise that clearly means Mirage is rolling it down and he steps back again— his backside coming into contact with the driver side door— in an attempt to shield it from Reek’s view.

“Don’t play with me, man!” Reek cries out, pointing at him. “I ain’t crazy. I know what I just seen with my own two eyes!”

Noah’s eyes widen and he takes a moment to glance around the street, hoping their little spat isn’t drawing any unwanted attention.

“So, I’ma ask you again, dawg,” Reek snaps. “Did that motherfuckin’ car just talk?”

“No?” Noah tries again.

“Yes.”

The admission comes from over Noah’s shoulder and Noah absolutely freezes.

“What the fuck…” Reek breathes out, utterly stunned. “It just talked again. The fuckin’ car just talked.”

Noah turns his head to the side for a second and narrows his eyes down at the silver and blue Corrado.

“Shut up,” he whispers, both hands fisted at his sides, before he whirls back around to face Reek. He stubbornly ignores the way the metal at his rear warms up and seems to tremble.

“It just talked again,” Reek is babbling away, his wild gaze jumping between the car and Noah. “It talks. It’s a talking car. The fuckin’ car just talked again, Noah.”

“No, it didn’t!” Noah denies immediately— unable to control the way his voice rises in pitch in his panic.

Mrs. Moreno’s kids pause their game of double dutch for a second to glance across the street at them.

Noah reaches up and waves at them dumbly until they return to their game.

“Yes, I did,” Mirage’s voice contradicts— and Noah’s gonna kill him, strip him for parts, something, because the asshole sounds proud of it too.

He snaps and whirls back around.

“God damn it, Mirage,” he stresses, forcing his voice to stay low and ignoring Reek’s ravings behind him. “So much for being a master spy. Announce it to the whole world while you’re at it, why don’t you? Way to be slick, dude.”

“Oh, I can show you slick,” Mirage’s sly voice drawls. “All you gotta do is ask nicely, baby. I’ll put on a real good show for you.”

Okaaaay.

Noah thinks it’s finally safe to assume that Mirage isn’t just repeating shit he’s heard on the streets or on TV. This is definitely deliberate.

Noah thinks even the back of his neck flushes this time around.

He bites out an exasperated groan and bends down to lean into the Corrado’s cabin as Mirage rolls his engine over, reaching out for his box. He steadfastly ignores the way the metal digging into his stomach vibrates just a little more than strictly necessary.

“We’re gonna have a serious conversation about this later,” he points out, glaring at the radio as he pulls the box into the driver’s seat so he can get a better grip on it. “Now get outta here before you give my friend a heart attack.”

“Yes, sir,” Mirage taunts immaturely— and Noah’s sure that had the bot been in his rootmode, he would’ve stuck his tongue out at Noah. If that’s even what it’s called. Noah knows he has one, he’s noticed it before.

Noah yanks his box out of the car and, reaching out to grab ahold of Reek’s arm, moves them both over to the sidewalk where he can do nothing but sigh as Mirage once more peels away from the curb with a shriek of screeching tires— damn near scratching the faded paint on Mr. Delano’s Lincoln.

“Noah…”

Noah turns to face Reek, his freckled cheeks absolutely still blazing away.

The man’s got one brow firmly arched. And he still looks kind of blanched, something Noah’s never seen from him before, but he’s also got this wary look on his face

“Look, man, I can explain—”

“Noah,” Reek begins again, tentatively— like he’s about to ask something that even he can’t quite believe he’s going to ask. “Did you fuck that car?”

Noah damn nearly chokes on his own tongue.

#noah x mirage #norage #noah diaz #mirage #mirage rotb #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #mirage x noah

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idv-sunsxin3 · 2 months

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Pavia, Diggers // Car Ride

Note // Same prompt as the one with Horropedia except is with the other 2 glasses sillies (separately) this time/ lh

Warning// a bit suggestive on Pavia's part??? Maybe.

____

(When he's driving)

Guys, we should make a debate in where Pavia either drives on a Lamborghini or a Ferrari/j

There are times he drives normally for the sake of keeping a low profile at times... and there are time when he is a fast driver, not more said.

Would most likely get a speeding ticket... well, if the officers ever managed to catch him. 😭

Even if he doesn't put seatbelt on himself, he would be the type of lover who would nag you to put them on-

(not like you're complaining as you grip on something as if your life depends on you;;;/ih)

He likes to linger his hand on your thigh and give it a squeeze whenever he drives- crazy.

He would do the same when so much traffic happens, to at least subside his frustration on the road. Italian cursing at how long it's taking;;; definitely the grumpy driver type.

Sometimes, he likes to put bags underneath your legs during the ride, saying that "it's safe if it doesn't shake around"-

But no!!! In reality, he does that just so he can grab one of your legs and spread it open before reaching out, whatever he needs to take out - this man.... 😭

The good side of it is that Pavia's 5 wolves are often tagged along as they sit on the back seat--- Pavia for some reason helps them open the windows sometimes so they can stick their head and stick out their tongues while the car moves- its a very funny sight when it's 5 dogs in both windows of the car;;;;😭🤣

The wolves are at least trained enough to be careful- and they would know when to get their heads back in whenever Pavia warns them that he'll roll up the windows again with the power window switch.

"Hold on tight, baby~ this will be a pretty bumpy ride."😈

If you really appreciate your life a lot, you might as well ask if you both can just take a taxi./lh

Yet i feel like knowing him, he won't take no as an answer;;; <//3

____

(When he's a passenger)

Mmm if he ever is in a car ride with you along with other party members Vertin assigned, he probably wouldn't like the fact how close he is to touch other people during the entire ride---- even if he doesn't show it, I guess the menacing death smirk might give it away(it does).

As long as it's just you beside him, he won't be too salty about it--

He won't give you a break from how clingy he is tho- he wouldn't keep his hands to himself if he's not the one taking the wheel;;;;

Pulling you close, sneaking a hand on your knee, make you cuddle against him, have his chest touch your back as he whispers flirty Comments on your ear- technically trying to make others get third wheeled and calling them single in many different ways;;; 😭

Like Horropedia, he's most likely the "are we there yet" passenger....---- except in a more grumpy impatient vibe as if he doesn't want to stay in this vehicule any longer--- he's not burning it down just because you're here/ih

"Come on, little girl...- How long do we have to stay in this car?"

The Italian grumbles, trying to get his sly hands busy by playing with your hair a bit through his calloused fingers. His arm is resting heavily on your shoulder.

"Soon." That's what the young girl answers with a calm tone, already used to the intimidating energy the older one tends to bring.

Pavia ends up leaning his back into the cushion, sighing as you tiredly pat him by the shoulder. The small gesture of comfort is unknown if it is playful or sincere.

Suddenly, the other seems to have other plans. He catches you off guard by lifting you smoothly with his hands on your waist before placing you between his lap.

He whispers on your ear, a quiet voice with a hint of rasp and longing.

"Stay close to me for now, so I don't have to talk to these poor teammates here...-"

____

(When he's driving)

Diggers driving an old-fashioned volkswagen that has a lot of colorful graffiti paint all over it seems very in character, in my opinion. He even has this colorful van decorated with a lot of stuff in his insight 2-- Which was what most hippies drove before.

Not only is it affordable and durable, but it's also spacious in the back that he can make it as a comfy place to rest.... which is also where you usually nap together or have these quiet cuddling sessions.🥺♥️

He usually keeps the vehicule in a peaceful area where it's not near the city, like a grassfield or in the middle of a forest.

I'm not sure if he'll be a full licensed driver, but I feel like he would drive at a less extreme speed for the sake of stress--- prefers to drive and see how empty the road is and how peaceful the landscape would be- rural areas specifically.

And when he finds the perfect spot to settle, you would stay there for the night or even a couple of days.

Diggers probably like acoustic music or something that gives a "groovy" impression. Yet, he is very flexible enough to let you go crazy with the radio box- pick a song, or music, whatever hat interests you--- whether he knows the tune or not, he might try to sing along and enjoy the different kinds of vibes with you djdbdbdb-

You and Diggers plan to move the van out to another rural field within london- most likely a village your boyfriend seems to have known.

The moment you finished packing what you need at the back of the van, Diggers calls you back from the driver seats window.

"Darling! You're done?" The voice of your boyfriend resembles one of an ecstatic puppy.

"Yeah!"

"Come inside!"

As you were about to hop into the passenger seat- you got surprised by a.... big pile of flowers sitting on your seat???

Oop- some of them fell off the moment you opened the door.

"I- what??? What is this???" You laugh softly, already imagining the jolly grin Diggers might be wearing from the other side of the mountain of flowers.

The pile looks like they're 100 roses.

"Oops--- forgot to give you these. Surprise!" He bubbly says as he leans on the steering wheel lazily.

"...." You pause, sighing out after recovering from the laughter, "Oh g- thanks, baby-- but how can I even see your face like this??? Where do i sit???" 🤣

As if the option of the back seat was out of the window, Diggers responded:

"How about my lap?"

You both now started laughing again like the dorks you are,,,/lh

____

(When he's a passenger)

He's most likely the type to play some tunes on his guitar, entertaining and serenading those who surround him as he sits in the vehicle

Is actually very nice that he gets to go somewhere without worrying about the gasoline cost-- /ih

He'll be fine sitting anywhere- but he'll be more pleased if he gets to sit right next to you- where he believes he should be <33

He'll have an arm behind your neck while chilling, sometimes holding hands just to play with your fingers while talking to someone.

Maybe even spend the entire car ride trying to teach how to play the guitar- having you on his lap as he guides your hands on where to place the strings. 🤭🥰

He would be most likely a tolerable passenger, a pretty peaceful one. He'll even would try and nap the entire ride if he can.

Though, whenever he spots a police car passing by through the window- I can imagine him immediately crouching so he doesn't get spotted, very self-conscious by the fact there are some officers looking after him,,, maybe;;; <//3

He trusts any driver as long as it's anyone that is not Pavia.... Convince me otherwise--- 😭

He would freak out and scream when the speed is too high- even cling on to you.

His grip is firm that you don't even know whether he is trying to hold on to you so he doesn't get thrown off or because he wants to cover you from any incoming crashes---/ih

You'll have to comfort him a bit after that;;

I'll never forget about the drive thru headcanons <333

//Them ordering take out at a McDonald's drive thru with s/o. If you don't eat McDonald's, just imagine it/ih

___

//Pavia//

Arches eyebrow... and wearing this look of "pookie, out of other restaurants, you decide one of the most low-quality ones???"/ih

Also not him having beef by the fact the ice cream in McDonald's sucks- the machine is even broken in almost every restaurant--- sobs;;;

At the end, he brought you there anyways, because you made him/ih

The reason why he would buy you a happy meal is probably because you're baby--- you don't even know if it's sweet or insulting./ih 😭🫠

Whenever you want to order but the cashier cant hear you when he's the one who's in the driver seat- I can imagine you guys with this meme./ih

Pavia is creepily respectful enough to keep this funny straight look while technically facing your butt, it's crazy;;; 2x

Next time, Pavia will drag you to somewhere better now that you finished dragging him to such "monstrosity of creepy clowns, grimace shakes, and broken ice cream machines"/j. More better than Olive Garden even---;;;

___

//Diggers//

"Ehhhh-- what would you like to order, sweetie?" :)

"Anything is alright."

"...."

"....."

*turns back to the window* "1 hamburger, 2 French fries- and a milkshake, please." :)

Most hippies don't seem to like materialism- but food is food, he wouldn't even dare to say no to if you want to order food at places like McDonalds dbbdbdnd;;; Like, most prices there were like less than $1 (plus tax) back in the 1960s...- 🤔🤯

(I feel like you would boss out of this by paying for him at times- like this is probably better than the McDonald's from 2020s/ih)

Man, happy meals were only first introduced in 1979- so they weren't a thing yet for a while in Diggers' timeline. If they ever get premiered, He would buy you one for you whether or not you like it- he just likes how there are chicken nuggets and juice boxes inside colorful boxes that seem to be meant for children-- yet for him, it doesn't matter. You will have it anyway, even if he's broke;;😭🥺

The first boxes when they were first introduced were circus wagons. The first toys were tops, stencils, wallets, puzzles, and erasers. Initially, meals included a hamburger or cheeseburger, fries, a soft drink, and cookies.... yum.

Pampering you with food is one of the wholesome things I can imagine - even eating it while being inside his van at some parking lot. Feeding each other with these silly dorky grins,,,,

#pavia reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #r1999 diggers #r1999 pavia #r1999 x reader #r1999 #reverse 1999 diggers #diggers x reader #pavia x reader #reverse: 1999 x reader

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theelvenhaven · 3 months

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Welp sometimes life goes a little too good sometimes and our ancestors who crossed bred citrus to create a lemon pelts you with one on occasion:

Got in my first ever wreck today on the way taking the kids to school.

Car looks bad, but man to Volkswagens hold up to their safety standards y’all!

Kids are okay! My son has a little bruising from his seatbelt and and my daughter has a tiny scratch from debris.

I took the brunt of the force since I t-boned them with the front of my car. I had the right of way when the pulled out and suddenly stopped right as I came under the green light and I hit their drivers side.

Ground was too wet for me to gain any traction.

And THANKFULLY their kid was on the passenger backseat side.

An AMAZING dad stopped and helped me and the kids, my iPhone sensed I had been in a wreck and immediately called 911 and my husband and mom.

Went to the ER and got checked out-

Nothings broken, no internal bleeding, no severe injuries.

I do have a sprained ankle, and some scrapes, my hands are sore and my seatbelt hurt my abdomen. But hey we all about car safety- all airbags deployed, everyone had their seatbelt on and the kids were in a booster!

No shattered glass, no jaws of life, we’re so lucky.

We have car insurance and the dad who witnessed the wreck was able to corroborate I had the right of way when the wreck happened.

So here’s to thanking the Gods who were watching over the kids and I, a safe car, and that we walked away with bruises and scratches! 🥂

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diabolus1exmachina · 1 year

Photo

Porsche “Berlin-Rome” Type 64 (1 of 2).

During 1938, Ferdinand Porsche and Major Adolf Hühnlein met, and the subject of establishing an endurance motor sport event was discussed. Hühnlein was inspired, and he set in motion a plan to organise a race from Berlin to Rome, a 1500km event that would take place in September 1939. No doubt Hühnlein’s motivation to his superiors included promoting Germany’s excellent system of Autobahns which this race would utilise, and the event would also tie in conveniently with the start of production of the KdF-Wagen.

In preparation for the race, it was decided to build three special long-distance race cars, and to Ferdinand Porsche’s delight, these were ordered and paid for by Volkswagen. For political reasons the cars were called KdF-Wagen and so in Volkswagen circles the car was known as the Type 60K10, although the Porsche engineers referred to it as the Type 64.

The 64 was to have an aluminium body, and the wheels were fully covered with removable alloy panels. Due to the event being a long-distance road race, Karl Fröhlich designed the car to carry two spare wheels in its nose, a move which meant the standard fuel tank would have to be relocated further back on the passenger side.

The engine used in the Type 64/60K10 was the standard 985cc unit as used in the KdF-Wagen, by increasing the compression ratio, power output was raised to 32 bhp at 3500 rpm.

With the race date set for September 1939, production of the three cars, Sports Car 1, 2 and 3, commenced in the summer of that year. The three chassis numbers allocated to the race cars, also referred to as the KdF-Rekordwagen, was 38/41, 38/42 and 38/43.

Karosseriewerk Reutter were given the task of making the bodies for the three cars from 0.5mm alloy sheets, but it wasn’t until 19 August 1939 that the first body was completed, a fortnight before the official start date of the Second World War. The second car was only completed on 20 December that year in a dark colour, while the third car, finished in the same silver colour as the first car, was only completed on 15 June 1940.

The plans for Porsche’s own sports car were already on the drawing board in 1947 and the first of the new 356 models was officially registered in June 1948. Just as the Type 64 had looked so ultra-modern when compared to contemporary sports machinery of the day, so too did the Porsche 356 immediately date other sports cars of the period. It was at this time that, with the war now over and plans to develop the 356 into a really competitive sports car in the market, that the old Type 64 became redundant to Porsche. Fortunately, the Swiss racing driver Otto Mathé had shown an interest in acquiring the Type 64, otherwise this crucially important piece of Porsche history may well have gone the way of its two siblings, and been scrapped.

“Otto Mathé, was one of the first, if not the very first driver, to use Porsche products for racing,” said Oliver Schmidt of the Prototyp Museum in Hamburg. Today there are two Type 64s in existence, the first being the 38/41 car Mathé bought from Porsche in 1949. The second car has been built up from the spares that Mathé bought from Porsche.

#porsche type 64 #Ferdinand Porsche #Porsche 356 #Otto Mathé #Volkswagen #KdF-Wagen

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theconstantsidekick · 1 year

Text

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (6) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader (future)

Genre: Angsty city babyy!

Summary: Steve and Y/n try to hash out their different stances on the Accord, in a small car, with Sam and Bucky right there in the backseat. It goes as well as you would expect.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mentions of Traumatic Political Events (Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, The Chernobyl Disaster), Mentions of Gory Deaths, Mentions of Violence Against Animals.

a/n: this was gonna be a lighthearted chapter to act as an interlude from all the angst... that is not what it ended up becoming. If anyone wants to correct me on something, hit me up. If I have said something cruel or hurtful, let's talk it out. I assure you that was never my intension.

“You can ask,” she says calmly.

The sound of the old yet sturdy Volkswagen hums calmly in the background. It’s not harmonious or anything but it does provide a sense of comfort, he thinks.

And you best believe he does need a whole lotta comforting right about now.

“Ask what?” Steve asks, playing dumb and failing at it.

“Whatever it is that you want to,” she answers simply. She’s looking out the window of the passenger seat. Steve can’t see her face to be able to read it… Well, that’s not completely fair. Even if he could see her face, he’s almost certain he wouldn’t be able to read it.

Ever since Ultron, ever since she opened up about her past, he’s noticed her change. She’s different now… or maybe, he thinks, maybe she’s more herself than she has ever been before. This isn’t to say Steve was great at reading her before but she seemed easier to grasp, closer in a way. That’s not all, though. He always knew she was a competent fighter, but now he’s entranced by her every move. It’s a dance. He used to be awed by her skill before, the motions were quick and effective but now? Now watching her fight, he can see the fluidity and ease. No one on the team has that. No one Steve has ever fought has that. There is a sense of comfort in the way she handles herself in battle. The movements are precise and practiced, like she’s done it countless times before… she probably has.

All this sucks for Steve because ever since Tony suggested the accords be signed, every single conversation with her feels like a battle. And he’s not ashamed to admit it, the woman he loves is a better fighter than him.

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Just ask what you wanna ask, Steven,” she cuts him off swiftly.

See?

Better than he’s gonna get any time soon.

Sighing he asks, “Why are you here? With us I mean? I thought you didn’t agree with us.”

“Common man! Don’t drag us into this!” Sam protests from the back seat. “We’re very happy to have you here,” he adds politely while looking at Y/n. “The Frosty Fighter agrees, doesn’t he?” He looks over to Bucky next to him, urging him to agree. When there is no response, Sam elbows him in the chest.

“Ouch!” Bucky exclaims. “What?”

“We’re glad Y/n is with us, aren’t we?” Sam prompts.

In the rearview mirror, Steve can see Bucky sit up awkwardly, every move a sign of his discomfort over the situation.

But Sam’s insistence is inescapable, so softly he replies. “Yes.”

And somehow that makes Y/n chuckle.

Huh, he thinks.

“Fine,” Steve concedes. “Why are you here? With me?” He asks again.

“Because you can’t handle Sergeant Barnes alone,” she replies.

Uhh, what?

“I was able to contain him back at the headquarters.” Steve might not have had as many hours on the field as her but he’s not incapable of taking care of his friend!

She, to his surprise, chuckles again. “It wasn’t a comment on your capabilities, handsome… You just have a habit of letting your emotions take charge when it comes to the Frosty Fighter.”

“And you don’t?” Steve challenges abrasively.

She finally takes her eyes off the passing scenery outside the window to look at him with what he, with his poor reading skills, determines to be controlled rage. His challenge is met with a daunting stare.

“I do too,” she answers. “That’s why you’re here.” She looks away again.

Okay, maybe he needs to reassess his approach. He adjusts uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, bracing himself to come at the situation from a different angle; a more tactical one.

Before he can though—

“But you don’t think Tony’s right either?” Sam asks.

“Nope,” she replies.

Bucky beats Steve to the punch, asking, “Then who is?”

“Me.”

“We should all just give up?” Steve questions, incredulous. “Stand by and watch while people need our help? When we can do good?”

“No…I suggest you look away, Steven. Take a vacation maybe, somewhere warm—considering your history and all,” her replies are so painfully nonchalant, it puts Steve on edge.

“Damn it Y/n, I’m being serious!” He explodes.

“So am I.” Her seeming lack of interest in the conversation irks him unfathomably. “Didn’t you hear what Vision said?”

“You believe we’re the reason behind all this?” Steve’s beyond incredulous at this point.

“I believe in escalation,” she counters. “If there is someone out there who wants revenge, who wants to stop us—like this psycho fake doctor we’re currently dealing with—they can’t just use the usual methods.” She turns to him then, “You have to understand putting down any of us isn’t easy. If someone wants to stop you, it’s not gonna be as easy as a knife to your gut. You’re a superhuman, my guy. Tony is packing a fucking arsenal on his chest. And Wanda??? Do you even know the extent of what she can do with her powers?”

“No, but—”

She cuts him off, “Neither do I, but from what little I understand, she’s as close to unstoppable as it gets. Same for Vision. And that’s to say nothing of Hulk or Thor! I mean he’s a God, can he even DIE??” She sounds almost as if she’s about to explode.

But at some level, he does understand where she’s coming from. The Avengers are dangerous… but only to their enemies.

Exhaling loudly, he tries to gather his patience to respond with some sense of consideration. “So what? We just give up because someone out there is waiting to be instigated? Have you thought that maybe that is inevitable? If there are people like us, itching to become heroes, the inverse must be true as well. There have to be people out there ready to exploit the system through whatever means necessary. Correlation does not equal causation. Not always.” He looks at her then, “If we all take a collective vacation and stop helping people is there a guarantee that the violence dies down?”

“I am not saying we quit helping. I am not inclined to think in extremes like you or my brother,” she answers, her voice calm once again. “I just think we should pick and choose our battles.”

“That is all the more reason for us to oppose the Accords—”

She cuts him off again, “Yes, yes. That’s why I didn’t sign them!” Her head falls back, she closes her eyes and adds, “But when I say we pick and choose I mean threats that cannot be handled by humans… I mean that the Avengers should stop shoving their noses in political matters—human matters. If another giant hole opens up in the sky, I’ll come running, till then? Avengers are better off taking a vacation.” She looks out the window again. “Maybe Tahiti? I’ve heard it’s a magical place.”

“How is that fair? Why should people who are suffering because of their governments or insurgents, or terrorists be excluded? Why don’t they deserve our protection?” Steve challenges.

“You’re oversimplifying again,” she says calmly. “It’s not about them, it’s about us.”

“How?” Sam asks. Belatedly he realizes, for a minute there Steve completely forgot Sam and Bucky were in the car with them.

“The Avengers, as a team, predominantly comprises of American citizens… And even the ones who aren’t Americans are led by a man who wears star-spangled tights and goes by the name Captain America. Do you seriously not see the issue in that?” She looks back at him.

“You think our actions reflect on our country?” He questions.

“You don’t?” She throws back. “You seriously don’t see how us, flying around different nations, doing whatever we want without giving a shit about their laws and their needs isn’t going to seem like an act of showcasing dominance by a nation that is a global superpower?”

“I’m not blind to the implications, Y/n. I understand what it looks like at a cursory glance. But there’s a lot more to it. We are not just agents of our country; we surpassed that title a long time ago. We are so much more than that. Countless humanitarian missions, assisting during natural calamities, providing aid to refugees, all of that cannot simply be overlooked in favor of what it says on our passports. As a team, the Avengers are a symbol of hope,” Steve argues.

“You cannot be that naive, man. You wear the American flag like a costume, you don’t think the other countries might see your actions in their land as interference from a foreign nation? You think they care about the semantics? You think any common person would?”

“I’ll ditch the uniform.”

“Sure, Captain America”

“I’ll ditch the name too.”

“Are you acting dense to piss me off, or did the Frosty Fighter get a good hit in there somewhere?”

He rolls his eyes. “I want to help people. I don’t need a title or a suit to do it. I just want the freedom to help the ones in need.”

“That sounds sweet and all, but it’s as ignorant as it gets.”

“You’re confusing ambition with ignorance.”

“You think if you change your name, and pick a new outfit, it will stop? You think that’s all it’ll take? You’re a fucking weapon, Steve. We’re all weapons. That’s the cold hard cocksucking truth. People might see us as heroes but at the end of the day, they all know that is what the fuck we are. I am not saying that’s a bad thing… or a good thing either. I am just saying that when other nations see you, going around, breaking bones with a light punch, they will also want one of you, all for themselves. You’re Mattel’s best selling Barbie, Stevie boy; everyone wants one for themselves to dress up, play house with and command armies with. There will always be a dumb fucker out there trying to recreate whatever the fuck you are.”

“It’s not my fault you are the way you are, Y/n,” he bites back, just as fierce as her. “You’re an alien, you could’ve been set off sooner or later even if Hydra hadn’t gotten around to it.”

He can hear her jaw clench. “Yeah, maybe,” she says dismissively. It’s an act, a defense, he knows it. It’s gonna be followed by a punch in the gut, an offense. “But can you say the same thing about Frosty Fighter back there?”

The car screeches to a halt on the empty backroad they’d been sailing through. Steve can smell the burnt rubber on the road, but it’s hard to care about it right now.

Slamming the door upon exiting, Steve walks over to the sidewalk. Pacing a little, he waits for her to follow suit.

The moment she does, “You know Y/n, sometimes you say shit to be right, to win an argument without weighing the consequences of your words.” His words are fuming, just like him.

“Is that a threat?” She asks, almost jovially.

His steps halt with his back to her. “You’re crossing a line, Y/f/n.”

Despite all his claims of not being able to read her, in this moment, he knows exactly how she’s reacting despite not looking at her. While his eyes are set on the patch of sparse greens, he can almost feel her provocation leaving her body.

“You’re right,” she relents. “I’m sorry.” He knows she means it. “I went too far with the last two, I shouldn’t have,” she says calmly, so he turns to look at her. She kicks the ground, looking surprisingly similar to a kid caught with an orange tongue when explicitly told no more juice pops. “It’s frustrating. I never thought there would come a day where Tony would ask me to sign away my freedom.”

“I think,” he looks up at the sky, “I think he’s just trying to make amends somehow. It’s not the best way to go about it but he’s trying. I can’t blame him.”

“I can,” she counters. “He knows what it would mean for me. He’s still proposing it. I blame him completely.”

“And yet, you keep insisting you’re not on our—”

She promptly cuts him off, “Before you start your shitty little spiel about how that is why I should stand with you, I’d like to let you know, you are only doubling my said frustration. It is beyond me how you cannot see how much damage the Avengers have caused—are capable of causing still!”

Hands on his hip, her frustration mirrored on his face, he says, “Why did you even join the team if you think so?”

“Because of Tony.”

“That’s all? That’s all it ever was? You never, not even for a second, believed in us? In what we do?” He’s desperate right now.

She shrugs. “I know we are capable of good, Steve. I am not saying we aren’t. But you cannot overlook the impact. The Superhero game is a hair’s breadth away from privatization and if that happens, we are all doomed.”

Exhaling loudly, his head falls.

The sun’s too bright, he thinks.

“I don’t think heroes, real heroes can be bought off,” he counters. “If there even came a point where there could be heroes for hire, they wouldn’t be heroes, not really. They’d be—” he can’t think of a word.

“Soldiers?”

Somehow, the challenge in her eyes is brighter still.

Before either of them can say anything to that, Sam gets out of the car and comes to stand in front of them. “Did you guys forget we’re wanted fugitives? Or having this couple’s tiff in broad daylight is just like a death wish I wasn’t told about?”

Couple’s tiff?

“This is not a couple’s tiff.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is a discussion about Y/n’s fundamental lack of faith in us as heroes,” he accuses.

“No,” she counters. “First of all,” she looks at Sam, “This is a blind spot, Steve might be naive but he’s not an idiot. And second of all,” turning to him she adds, “this is not a discussion, this is an intervention for Steve, the jerkface who supports capitalism.”

“What?!” Steve’ completely lost by this point.

With carefree steps, Y/n walks over to a boulder and sets herself atop it. Slowly then, she begins to stretch. “Do you know about the Nuclear-Proliferation Treaty?”

Completely confounded by the change of topic, all Steve can do right now is respond, “Yes. Signed on 1st July 1968, the treaty was negotiated to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons and weapons technology, to promote cooperation in the peaceful uses of nuclear energy.”

She nods in acknowledgement. “Do you know why it was signed?”

“I just told you why.” It’s been a long, long day and it’s barely the afternoon. So yeah, Steve relaxes, leans back on the car. He lets his body fall loose. He isn’t entirely relaxed, not really. He’s just a little too tired to keep his guard up in front of his friends and his girlfriend, despite knowing for sure whatever comes next will be just as hurtful as any enemy attack .

“No, you told me what the treaty’s function was supposed to be… or tried to be. I’m asking you why it was signed. Do you know why?”

“I’m guessing you’ll tell me.”

And that, out of all the things, makes her chuckle, “Fear.” Their eyes meet. “When The Manhattan Project started, it scared the shit out of every nation that was aware of its existence. Then on 6 and 9 August 1945, when the 509th Composite Group of the United States Army Air Forces dropped those newly minted bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, respectively, everyone and their mothers collectively shat their pants. Which, I mean, can you really blame them?”

“What’s your point?” Sam chimes in.

She looks up at the sky. “The point, Samuel, is that any weapon that strong will instill so much fear in the hearts of men, that it will either result in an all-out relinquishment of the weapon or—”

“Everyone’s gonna want a weapon of their own,” Sam surmises.

Sam receives a wink and finger guns for his correct answer

Then she looks at Steve. “Those bombs were so fucking scary that the only defense these fucked in the head politicians could come up with was creating one of their own. Which obviously led to multiple countries testing and developing a nuclear arsenal of their personal collection. It got bad enough that they needed to come together and be like, ‘Yeah ok. We fucked up. These are way too many weapons and if they get in the wrong hands we’ll end up never needing a sequel for Planet of the Apes cause we’ll be living it.’” She sits up straighter. “We’re just like these weapons, Steve; that’s what I mean when I say we’re nuclear. We’re incomprehensibly powerful weapons and the accords are like a (not so) pre-emptive NPT.” Shaking her head she adds, “Now, I’m not trying to negate or diminish Japan’s war crimes from that period. I never will. It was a war. There were crimes. Not much logic to it than that. All’s I’m saying is that the justification for the use of such weapons, of us will always be shaky and terrifying.”

His jaw clenches.

He understands. He isn’t so naive that he cannot see where she’s going with all this but, if he doesn’t believe that people like Sam, Natasha, Tony—if people like them weren’t going to fight for they believed in, if they didn’t fight for people who can’t fight for themselves the world would be a much worse place for it. The Avengers are capable of a lot of bad but he knows they are capable of a lot more good. They haven’t been able to save everyone but they have always given their all, on every single mission. They have always been ready to lay down their lives for what they believed in, and that kind of faith cannot be bad. That kind of pure devotion cannot be evil.

He knows it.

“Just because you are not capable of seeing the potential we have to do good, doesn’t make us weapons. Just because you don’t believe in us, doesn’t mean we’ll forsake our promise to help people, Y/n.” He stands up straight. “We aren’t that easily swayed.”

She nods halfheartedly. “You know about Chernobyl?”

“Another history lesson?” Sam chides.

She smiles again. “Something like that.” She looks at him, “Do you?”

He nods. “Yea, I read up on it.”

“I was there,” she says easily, as if she’s talking about some concert she attended back in the day.

“You were at Chernobyl?” Bucky’s question comes as a surprise to both Sam and him who were otherwise too focused on Y/n. However, she seems to have been expecting it almost. Walking over, Bucky comes to stand right opposite her, an arm’s length away from him.

She shrugs just as easily and says, “Howard, Peggy and I thought it would be wise. Someone with…my ‘set of skills’ was ideal to assess the damage, understand the situation, and help if necessary. It wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission or anything, we were just worried. If it had been a mission, there would’ve been motives, and we didn’t want that to be the case for a situation that sensitive.” She pauses for a second. Despite the heavy subject matter, there is a hint of a smile on her face. She’s reminiscing, Steve realizes. It makes his stomach churn. “But yeah, I was there. I saw all of it. I saw the people that were affected, the children that were born, the first responders who were brought into the hospitals for radiation poisoning because the officials didn’t have the guts or common sense to admit to their fuck up.” Closing her eyes, she sighs. She is done reminiscing. “They were rotting away. Not slowly, not graciously; they were rotting away from the inside out in the most painful way imaginable. It was the most gruesome thing I had ever seen, and it wasn’t even an act of war. It was a mistake, an error, something that was overlooked due to lack of resources.”

The moment is too heavy for anyone except her to be able to break it.

“Did you read about the units sent out for clean ups, to minimize damage?” She asked.

“The units to clean up the spill—”

She shakes her head. “There were units sent out to the neighboring areas around Pripyat. These were soldiers who were ordered to exterminate any and all living accelerants.”

“Living accelerants?” Steve asks.

“Their job was to hunt down all the wildlife in the area. Whether it was farm animals, stray cats or pet dogs; they were all collected and… put down,” Bucky is the one who answers, surprising the group.

“Ten points to Frosty Fighter,” Y/n comments, still seeming a little astounded. “It was nowhere close to being the worst tragedy to come out of the incident, but it was the most unassuming one. They were in the blast radius and were suffering from radiation poisoning as well, but it’s not like they could do anything about it.” Sighing once again, she pauses for a second, before continuing, “The impact the Avengers tend to have is similarly severe, it too leads to completely unassuming tragedies.”

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Sam speaks up. “Chernobyl was built in secret, hidden away from the U.S. as well as their neighboring nations which is why their Government refused to ask for aid. If they had been open about it, countless lives could have been saved but they were too busy trying to save their own asses.” He crosses his arms and levels her with a look, “Whatever we do, we do it to save people. We do it to make things a little easier, more manageable. It’s not the same”

“No, it isn’t,” she admits. She seems… he doesn’t even have a word for it—worn down? That’s the closest Steve can get to describing her right now. “But the reactor blew up because of negligence… human error. The devastation was a result of hubris… we know a little something about that, don’t we?”

“We made one mistake,” Steve contends. “I am not trying to diminish it, but we slipped up once. And we rectified it immediately. Shouldn’t we at least be given a second chance?”

“Why?” She argues. “And honestly, that one mistake was more than enough. The repercussions of that one mistake will be felt for decades.” Exhaling audibly, she shakes her head. “Look, we live in a carefully crafted system. Human society as a whole is a result of ages and ages and ages of strife and discord and compromise. It’s a delicate structure, disrupting which doesn’t take a lot. The mistake we made… It sure was disruptive, seeing as multiple nations came together to impose the Accords onto us.”

He feels a distant desperation now, to prove to her that he’s right. “We cannot overlook the destruction we caused. We have to be held accountable for it, of course. But we have done a lot to protect this society as well; we fought off Loki and his aliens, we are still dismantling HYDRA but bringing their existence to the light wasn’t exactly a small task. We are capable of helping this system flourish,” he tries. “We just need another chance.”

“Despite our extraordinary powers, at our core, we are just human…ish. We are more than capable of repeating our same mistakes,” she says easily, calmly, almost as if she knows there is very little point to this debate. Why is she fighting me then?

“But we are also capable of learning from them,” he states with full faith. “This can be an opportunity for us to step back, reassess, and get better.”

And that somehow seems to be the last straw.

“Listen to me, okay?” She’s instantly on her feet. Her tone has changed all of a sudden, to something more urgent, more earnest. “The system that we currently have isn’t the best… There are flaws in it, fundamental ones, but it works. It works well enough that we’re not inciting a nuclear war. It’s functional, not perfect but functional; and people had to fight for it to become what it is today. It took countless revolutions, inventions, wars, civil disobedience movements and about a million protests to get where we are right now… And people did that. They did it all by their lonesome, without any help from us. What I’m trying to say, what none of you seem to want to listen is that people will always, always keep fighting for what they believe in. They will succeed in making things better.” She’s vibrating with sheer confidence. “Utopia might not be achieved by next week, but people will keep at it till the day they do… Isn’t that enough?”

Now what you have to understand about Steve is that even though he is technically a hundred years old, he hasn’t lived for a hundred years. Everyone knows that but not a lot of people understand it. He hasn’t lived through every decade leading to this one. He was stuck on ice. When he went in, the world functioned a lot differently than when he came out. And that is where he and Y/n are complete opposites.

While she is, for all intents and purposes, younger than him, she has lived a lot longer than him. It makes him feel a sense of disconnect to her… maybe he always will.

“It feels fairly insincere for us to have the power to help them speed up the process but choose instead to sit back and watch, don’t you think?”

“No! No, I don’t think so.”

Steve’s at the end of his rope. “Come on, Y/n! Do you have so little faith in us that you cannot even imagine that we might be able to make the world a better place? Do you believe in us at all?”

She chuckles then. It’s followed by a pause. Her hands are on her hips while she looks down at the ground. “You know about a week after the reactor blew up at Chernobyl, they realized that the nuclear material was melting through the concrete and was about to make contact with a pool of water underneath. The water was supposed to act as coolant but in this case would cause a fucking radiation-contaminated steam explosion upon contact. So what’s the plan, right? How to stop it? They needed people to dive into 20 million liters of poison water and turn a couple valves to drain it.” She looks at the three men then. “And before I could even think of breaking my cover to volunteer, three men—three normal, everyday men stepped up.” She’s smiling. She looks… proud? “Funny thing is, these were men who knew exactly what could happen to them. Of the danger this mission posed to them. Going in there was like inviting Death over for dinner and they did it without a single ounce of hesitance. They weren’t superhuman or of alien origin, trust me. I checked. They were just… people. Normal people who knew what needed to be done and decided to do it.” She clicks her tongue. “It’s not that I don’t believe in us, Steve. I do. I just believe a lot more in them.”

The words hang in the air. They stay there with nothing but the sound of the cars whizzing past them on the road.

Their silence is only broken when Steve's phone chimes.

Pulling it out of his pocket, he looks down at it. “It’s Sharon. She gave us a location, it’s 15 minutes from here.”

“We should head out,” Sam suggests.

“Yeah. Yeah, we should do that,” Y/n agrees, already getting back in the car. But before she can—

“You know, Steve’s just like them, right?” Bucky speaks up from where he stands behind her.

“What?” She asks, a little lost.

He meets her eye to eye. It’s the first time he’s had the courage to do so. “The scrawny little kid from Brooklyn—he’s just like the people you say you believe in so much.”

She nods. “He was… And most of his fundamentals still are… But power changes you. It changes where you stand. He has a good amount of it now,” she looks over at Steve, “unlike the kid from Brooklyn.” Her eyes fly back over to Bucky before she adds, “I believe in him more than he believes in himself, I just don’t think he understands the fact that his stance has to change with him.” Pointing back at Sam, “Now that one’s a whole different story. If he were the one opposing me, I would’ve lost by now.” With that she gets in the car.

Read the next part here. Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

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randomshyperson · 2 years

Text

Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Seven

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. || Words: 7.789k

A/N-> If you guys have any questions regarding the story, feel free to ask ahead. Also, every review is appreciated, your words means a lot!

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Seven - The Socialists and the Jealous Witch

As you looked out the small car window, it was easy to tell that this was one of the most beautiful worlds you had ever been in.

A few many minutes ago, on the side of the road where you, America, and Wanda appeared, you managed to get a ride.

Wanda had just put her arms around you and was trembling like the leaves on the many surrounding trees. You held her close, tightly and without hesitation. But you worriedly took your attention from her when you heard the sound of music approaching.

Without delay, rounding the corner of the road where you were standing, came a silver 1950s style Volkswagen van, but patched up in so many places that it was a surprise that it was working. It stopped right beside you, and America ran to get closer to you and Wanda let go in confusion, but you slid your hand to hers giving a gentle squeeze so she wouldn't use magic if she didn't have to.

A raccoon opened the door.

"Hey, outsiders, want a ride?" He asked casually. You hadn't seen Rocket in many years, and this version of him - wearing jeans and a floral shirt - sure was a funny thing, to say the least.

"Cool." America murmured impressed from your side with a chuckle. Wanda sniffled softly, still seeming to be unaware of what had just happened. You noticed that the Kombi wasn't empty - Lots of familiar faces inside, from Gamora and Baby Groot to Starlord, and one moody face you really didn't expect, the Winter Soldier - the last one, driving.

"James?" You let out without being able to control yourself, and he put his metal arm on the seat to turn to look at you, his long hair pinned back.

"Sorry, doll, have we met?"

You give a half-hearted laugh, ready to deny it when Wanda intervenes:

"No, you haven't." She replies coldly. "Where are we?"

Rocket whistles softly. "Jeepers Creepers, Barnes, I think they're tourists! We can take them to the Consulate if they need records."

"This car won't make it to the capital." Murmured Peter Quill from the front passenger seat, with a cigarette in his mouth.

You wanted to laugh at the scene. It looked like a 70s version of Guardians of the Galaxy. It was amusing, to say the least.

"We're fine!" You said quickly. "We have the records and all that sort of thing." You lied quickly, and everyone seemed too stoned or too cool to care. "We're just wanting food and somewhere to rest."

"Bomb!" Exclaimed Rocket opening the door wider. "Come on up, strangers. We'll take you to the Forge."

"Forge?" Wanda asked suspiciously, though she couldn't resist the gentle nudge you gave her back.

"Yeah, the commercial district. It's a few miles from here." Answered the raccoon, and just as the three of you were sitting on the soft puffs placed in the back of the kombi, with the guardians looking on curiously, he added, "You guys need to clean up all this blood. You're one of the space hunters, yes?"

"Sure, something like that." You mutter watching Wanda shift uncomfortably in her seat.

That's how you ended up in a kombi, with America playing some kind of weird deck with a Hippie version of Gamora, and Wanda with her arms crossed, pretending not to be asleep on your shoulder.

The landscape was really quite beautiful - miles and miles of a colorful plantation, with some cement craters as if the flora had taken over the cities many years ago, plus a big lake and some shiny creatures flying in the sky.

"Hey, since we've already made it clear that we're not from around here, do you mind telling us how this place got this way? It's just that the Earth we remember is a little different." You asked half-heartedly to Rocket, who had started making a joint a few minutes ago.

He let out a snout laugh. "You guys must have come here before Rebirth." He commented casually, but you saw James steal a glance through the rearview mirror at you.

"What is the Rebirth?" You asked.

"It's when Ultron blew up half the planet." James replies from the front seat, making you tense up immediately. But no one in the car seems to care much.

"Rebirth started on the Armageddon." Rocket continued and handed the finished joint to you. It seemed rude to refuse when he was telling you about the destruction of the world. "It was a sad thing for those who were here, but the planet was very thankful. Just look around, the earth has never looked more beautiful."

You coughed a little because of the marijuana and passed the joint to Gamora, who giggled at your reaction before taking a long drag.

"So Ultron won the war on this world." You say, and they seem to understand that you were only from space and not from that universe.

"I guess you can put it that way." Bucky replied from the steering wheel. "All the Heroes, the ones that were left at least, threw him out after Rebirth. And then we retired because there really wasn't anyone else to fight."

"Besides, the idiot went to dominate the rest of the galaxy, and whoever survived comes to occupy the planets that have already been reborn." Peter Quill comments, moving to put a song on the radio. "Now we just hang around, have free food and all kinds of work, it's an easier life."

You scratched at the back of your neck, not knowing what to say, but you didn't really need to, because Quill put on an upbeat song and they started humming along.

Wanda moved next to you, opening her eyes with a frown from the noise.

"Hey, are you okay?" You murmured, straightening to slip your arm across her shoulders, and Wanda snuggled better against you immediately.

"I had a bad dream." She whispered back half-drowsily, and then faced the Guardians singing and sighed, "Never mind, reality is worse."

You laughed softly, stroking her arm. "I think we're getting there already. A bath will help us feel a little better."

She hummed, meeting your gaze, and then narrowed her eyes at you. "Y/N, are you high right now?"

"It would be completely irresponsible and idiotic to be stoned in a strange universe." You whisper back with an easy smile, and Wanda grunts in irritation, pulling away to slap you on the thigh which makes you let out a soft exclamation of fake pain.

"You are unbelievable." She complains, but says no more because Gamora is commenting:

"They sound like you and Natalia, Grumpy Soldier!"

Bucky laughed from the front seat, his metal arm on the steering wheel while the other was leaning against the open window. You smiled, assuming impressed that in another universe Nat and Bucky worked out.

"Wrong, Gamora." He grumbled. "Romanoff would have thrown me out of the Kombi if I accepted a joint from strangers."

"I haven't discarded that idea yet." Wanda mumbles from your side making you laugh softly.

"This Romanoff, is she your wife?" You asked casually as if you had no idea who they were at all. Bucky let out another laugh.

"Ex-wife." He retorted, his gaze meeting yours in the rearview mirror a few times as he recounted, "We have a complicated history, but it was an amicable ending. And we try to be friends because of little Stevie."

You blinked in surprise, "You have a kid?" You asked trying not to sound too impressed or pleased, and Bucky shrugged, smiling.

"Yeah, he's six and he's a little devil." He countered. "I'm going to visit them at the Forge. Go down with you guys, and these bums here are going north."

The guardians let out a little exclamation matched by their nickname that makes James laugh, and so do you. But your attention is diverted to Wanda, who is tense beside you, and when you look in the same direction she is looking, you notice that it is at her own bloodied reflection in the mirrors hanging in the corner of the kombi.

"Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when we arrive." You suggest sweetly as you bring your hand to her cheek, and Wanda shudders but obeys and as she looks away, she buries her face in your neck again, inhaling deeply.

You only smile when America exchanges a look with you with winning the match against Gamora.

–//–

As soon as the Kombi parks and Bucky reaches down to open the door and grab a bag from the trunk, you understand why it is called the forge.

It is a large commercial district, with buildings of metal and wood, built and kept standing against the law of physics, and in the center is a large concrete pavilion with market stalls of all kinds. What is most eye-catching, and does justice to the name, is the large statue of a robotic head in the center. And despite the fungus growing, there is no way not to recognize Ultron. His face only occupies half of it, however, the other half, though metallic, is clearly not him. The only thing you recognize is the rock design of the Mind Stone that links both faces together.

"Vision." Wanda chokes in surprise as you get down from the vehicle and catch a glimpse of the statue. You frown slightly and finish helping America down from the vehicle and wave goodbye to the Guardians before approaching your wife.

"That is Vision?" You ask curiously, and Wanda swallows dryly, twiddling her fingers as she nods. "Sorry, love, I can't say he's handsome."

You manage to get a weak laugh and a gentle slap on the arm from her but Wanda tenses up again.

"I think we're in a world where Ultron has managed to become Vision." She says as she shifts her gaze from the statue to you, and you sigh softly, raising one of your hands to push the hair out of the front of her face.

"I'm sorry you have to see it."

Wanda smiles, leaning into the touch. "Don't worry, it's not the hardest or weirdest thing I've had to watch." She teases softly making you smile.

The moment is broken when Bucky whistles to get your attention, gesturing for you all to follow him.

You give the scary statue one last uncertain look before accompanying him.

Bucky guides you along the busy stalls and you notice that no one seems to care about the blood on yours or Wanda's clothes, especially since many people carrying everything from animals to heavy weapons are the same way. You move deeper into the district until you end up in front of what looks like a motel with a very busy bar in front, several people and creatures coming out all around with bags, drinks, and weapons.

"Barnes!" Someone yells from the entrance once Bucky is close enough and you recognize Captain Carol Danvers - except that she doesn't look much like the one you know. This one has shoulder-length hair and wears a plaid outfit with dark jeans.

"Danvers, good to see you." Greets Bucky back hugging the blonde for a moment before waving to the rest of the bar. Carol, who was holding a mug full of beer, turned the liquid over in one large impressive gulp before asking about you and the girls.

"Oh, they're a bunch of tourists, hunters or something, that we gave a ride on the Avengers road." Bucky comments casually reaching for his watch. "Do you think you can get a room for them? I need to pick up Stevie and Natalia at the station."

"Sure, Bucky, we have room." Carol commented and Bucky smiled in appreciation.

"If you guys stick around, I'll see you at sunset." Barnes said as he said his goodbyes, fixing his bag as he continued on his way into town.

You cleared your throat as you looked at Carol. "I'm sorry, but how much is it to stay? We kind of don't have any money, but we sure work as payment and-"

Carol laughed, gesturing. "You must be from one of those monetary planets, right? Don't worry, we don't charge anything for basic services." She interrupted casually, surprising you. "That is, from food and shelter to basic weaponry to survive in the deserts. If you need any of those, we received some revolvers last night."

"Can I take look...?" America started but you and Wanda gave her a look that caused her to fall silent. You offered Carol a smile.

"Thank you, but we will only need some food and a room. And a bath please." You said clumsily.

Carol raised an eyebrow and you immediately regretted your words.

"Well, I could bathe you myself, pretty thing..."

Wanda nudges you so hard you almost fall off the sidewalk, but she just takes Carol's field of vision.

"She can do it herself, thank you. Show us the way." She cuts you off seriously, and you are massaging your rib with a grimace, and Carol immediately takes the cue not to flirt with you and gives a short laugh, turning to guide you through the halls.

It looks very much like a hostel, and you are surprised that it has vacancies because the place is very crowded and busy, and noisy.

Carol drops you off on the third floor and tells you that even though it is busy, no one will try to rob you. Thieves only in the deserts or something like that.

Despite the interaction at the entrance, she insists on offering you a wink before going downstairs, and Wanda rolls her eyes, marching angrily to the bathroom without speaking to you.

"She's kind of the jealous type, huh?" America comments, and you giggle.

"It's ironic because, in my universe, Carol Danvers used to be Wanda's best friend." You say.

"That's kind of sad." America comments, and you sigh, shrugging.

"I guess so." You say. "But I suppose it was kind of refreshing to talk to a Carol who doesn't hate me for letting her friend die."

America frowns slightly, but you don't let her press the issue, leading the way into the room that Danvers said would be yours. It's wide open, with double doors and windows to the market, and has two double beds, plus a couch.

"I'm going to get cleaned up with Wanda, why don't you try to get some sleep before your next trip?" You suggest, and she looks tired enough not to push too hard.

You close the bedroom door before making your way to the bathrooms.

Fortunately, it is much emptier than the rest of the place.

You find Wanda at one of the last sinks, and give way to a girl with an eye patch and a towel on her shoulders to pass before making your way to Wanda.

"Hey." You greet half hesitantly as you see the way she seems lost in her own thoughts. Wanda blinks away from her own reflection - now less bloodied because she had already run some water over her face - and offers you a small smile.

"Hi." She murmurs back. She looks ready to wash up again when you stand beside her, and touch her hip with your hand.

"Sit there, I'll help you get cleaned up." You tell her gently, and Wanda swallows dry as she can feel the warmth of your body.

"N-no need to..."

"Please, Wanda." You insist by giving her hips a gentle squeeze and meeting her gaze in reflection. "I want to clean your bruises too."

She sighs but nods, and you step aside to make room for her to sit in one of the chairs in circular cups scattered around the busy wooden bathroom.

You hiss softly as you pull up a stool to sit across from her and search for a medical kit in the cabinets in the cupboards beside you - smiling softly when you find it - before pulling her ankle gently up onto your thigh.

"I was going to use magic to heal that." Wanda mumbles softly, but you just offer her a small smile.

"Yeah, I figured so." You say, starting to prepare items to remove the stuck shards and clean up the blood. "But a break from magic is exactly what you need, my love." You say meeting her gaze again, and she swallows dryly but doesn't contradict. "Don't worry, I won't let it hurt."

As you work on the bruises, you comment on asking Carol for some shoes, and something decent to eat. Wanda stays silent until you start on the right foot, and waits for two girls to pass you toward the exit before asking:

"When do we leave again?"

You don't take your eyes off the tweezers and shard you just found to answer, "As soon as America has a decent meal."

"Why aren't you using magic?"

You give a short laugh, "I can do a bandage without magic tricks, thank you very much." You joke, but Wanda doesn't laugh, instead, she gives an impatient sigh that makes you look at her curiously. "What's wrong, my love?"

She grunts angrily, looking at you with red eyes. "You're lying to me!" She accuses between her teeth, but turns her face away and tries to calm herself. You sigh half wearily, and hover your hand in the air in front of Wanda's sole, causing all the remaining shards to dissipate into thin air. A small pressure arises on the back of your neck, but you ignore it.

"Is that what you think?"

Wanda locks her jaw but looks at you with greenish eyes again. "That's what he tells me. And honestly, Y/N, it's very hard not to believe it when I really don't know anything about you."

A sigh escapes your lips, but you nod, gently pushing Wanda's foot to the floor before getting up and throwing the used items in the trash and going to the sink.

Wanda thinks she has made you angry. Chthon keeps whispering that you'll lie again, or worse, that you'll run off into the night with America and abandon her.

But all you do is throw some water on your face, and take off your bloody shirt with one motion before turning to Wanda.

"I'm going to take a shower, and when I'm done, we can talk." You tell her with a seriousness and certainty that doesn't help the way Wanda is blushing at the sight of you in just a sports top. "If you need to, you also have my permission to look at my memories."

This is going to be fun, Chthon wryly mocks in her mind, but Wanda pushes his voice away to nod at you.

–//–

Wanda looks at her new pair of beat-up boots swinging in the air as she moves her legs, sitting on the ledge of the hostel where you all were staying. It was the only place in the whole building where she couldn't find anyone, and it was probably because the terrace led directly into Carol's room, who she had understood owned the place.

The blonde had gotten not only boots, but also clean sets of clothes for you all, and said that when America woke up, just join the bar and help yourself.

Wanda was supposed to come down to eat after she got dressed, but she went out on the porch and stayed.

"I thought we were going to talk." Sudden - half breathless - sounded your voice as you emerged onto the balcony, not from Carol's room, but from the stairway entrance. "I've been looking all over the place for you, little witch."

"Well, you found me." Wanda murmurs by hugging one of her legs and leaning on the wall of the building, her gaze still on the city below.

You approached her leisurely and put up both hands for support before jumping onto the concrete as well, sitting down beside her. Your gaze lingered on her face.

"How bad is it?" You asked and Wanda sighed softly, shrinking further against the wall.

"What?" she asked trying to avoid the subject, but you didn't hesitate.

"The voices and the nightmares. How bad are they now?"

She forces a short laugh, running a hand over her face for a moment.

"What do you think?" She retorts aggressively, and you sigh, looking at the city. Before Wanda can apologize, you are speaking again:

"I think I may have made them worse with the mirroring rune." You confess guilty. "Chthon is petty and cruel, and I wouldn't be surprised if he made things worse by my defiance. And I would hate myself if I were responsible for making you suffer more."

Wanda blinks in surprise, looking down at your crestfallen figure. Now she understood your dedication to trying to expel Chthon at any cost, even if it put yourself in danger.

She settled herself on the wall, one hand moving to meet yours in your lap.

"There aren't any worse." She says waiting for you to meet her gaze to give her a small smile. "If anything, they're actually weaker. I don't know what you've done, but I can even tell him to shut up now."

You chuckle softly, your eyes filling with tears. You lean your forehead on hers, and you both take a deep breath as you close your eyes.

"Tell me what you want to know." You whisper and she brings one of her hands to your face, stroking it a moment before putting a little distance between your faces again.

"I want to know everything you didn’t tell me."

She asks and you nod in understanding, looking away again. You think for a few moments about the day you met her, and the short story you told, before speaking again.

"Well, my name is Y/N L/N, I'm from New York..." You begin with a casual tone, causing her to sigh slightly, moving closer to give you a nibble that makes you laugh.

"Please, Y/N. Take this seriously."

You sigh, meeting her gaze for a moment before diverting to the city.

"I'm sorry, Wanda, this is... hard." You confess. "I haven't told you everything not because I want to lie, but because you would be overwhelmed if I dumped my entire life on you over tea."

"I know, but I feel like there are important things you're hiding from me."

"Like what?"

"Like your magic." She accuses and you grunt, looking away. "That's what I'm talking about."

"I told you how it works." You try, but she shakes her head impatiently.

"But you didn't tell me anything beyond that." She retorts. "Can you start by telling me why you've been avoiding using magic since we met again? Or why you're getting sick!"

"Why, didn't your book tell you everything?" You accuse and regret it immediately. Wanda sighs in impatience and turns to descend from the balcony, but you place a hand on her hip, holding her in place. "I'm sorry. Please, I didn't mean that..."

"Didn't you?" She challenges with bright eyes, her face so close you can count her freckles. "Part of you is mad at me for reading darkhold, so why don't you start being honest? Yell at me and tell me what you think!" She accuses pushing your hand away and walking away, and you swallow dryly before following her.

"I'm not mad at you." You assure her and she stops walking with an incredulous laugh. "I'm not." Wanda turns to you with her arms crossed, a disbelieving look on her face that makes you sigh. "You don't believe me."

She raises an eyebrow. "How can I trust you when I don't even know you?"

You nod and take a deep breath. "Fine." That's what you say before you begin to move around to place two chairs facing each other, and then pull Wanda by the hand to sit in one of them, before taking the other. You take a deep breath as you take Wanda's hands and raise them to the height of your shoulders. "Be gentle. You can start with whichever one you prefer."

Wanda swallows dryly, but nods in understanding and moves her fingers to your forehead, her eyes beginning to glow red.

As soon as she starts, the surroundings go dark.

Memories of early childhood were the easiest. They were a bit hazy, but Wanda made her way through the moments of breakfasts at a noisy table, games of running on a paved street, and nights of stargazing.

She found this memory hidden behind a few dozens and was surprised to find this little version of you - about 4 or 5 years old - lying on the floor of a bedroom, whispering into the opening under the bed.

"Hey sammy, can you get out of there?" You asked but received only a whimper in return. "I promise no one will look."

"Get out of here, Y/N, I look like a freak!" Your brother retorted back. Wanda bent down to look, and could only see golden eyes in the darkness.

"No! Don't say that!" You retorted in a childish voice, clearly confused and even frightened by the whole thing. "You're looking like a little angel, just as Mama used to say."

Your brother grunted angrily and was suddenly crawling out from under the bed, and you forced yourself upright just like Wanda. The witch let out a surprised sigh as she stared at the older boy's remarkable white wings in conjunction with his horns.

"He was a mutant." You, the older version, stood with your arms crossed and your back resting on the wardrobe while the memory happened and sped up. "But we grew up where that was a problem, and Samuel always hated not being able to hide what he was."

The memory wavered until your smaller version was holding scissors in hands, and your brother was strapped against a chair.

"Sammy, I don't want to do it." You said uncertainly and tearfully, but your brother grunted angrily.

"You have to help me, Y/N. School is starting soon, and freaks don't go to school, do they? They get sent away. And you don't want me to be gone do you?" You shake your head quickly, your eyes full of tears. Samuel sighs. "Then start cutting."

Wanda holds up your hand just as the first cry of pain happens, not needing to see to the end of the memory - and especially not wishing you to relive it - to know that you cut his wings off.

"Did it work?" she asks though, and you sigh.

"Only for a while." You say. "Our parents saw the blood though, and well, I wasn't going to let them send Sammy away." You count. "The Train that carried the mutants was a government initiative to ‘wipe out the impure’, but we jumped off before that. I think we ended up somewhere in Poland before Master Kaecillus found us."

The memory forms as you say it. Wanda diverts her eyes from your adult version to the image of two children being approached by a man dressed in a black robe - who she recognizes from the last memory she saw of you - who hands the two generous pieces of bread.

"He saw potential in my brother's mutation, and offered us shelter and food, in exchange for his service to the masters of the mystic arts." You narrate as memories form, from the trip to the Kamar Taj in the company of Kaecillius to the images of your training, studying magic, and meeting the other masters. "Samuel never learned to accept his mutant side, and in time, he figured out how to look human."

Wanda swallowed dryly, watching your little version watch her brother mutter illusion incantations every morning in the mirror until the day he died. That memory she skipped over.

"When I hit him, the stick went through his spine, and his wings went slack." You count without looking at Wanda. "The Masters thought it best to cut them off to find a coffin where he would fit, so I insisted that I should do it myself."

Wanda intervened as the memory began, holding your hand tightly. "I don't need to see that one."

"Thank you." You mumble letting the surroundings flow again. They turn into an empty room, where a child all dressed in black was sitting on the floor of the room.

"Little L/N?" A male voice called out - it looked like a monk, with his long, white hair and beard and yellow robe - and he approached the edge of the bed, sitting down on the pillows. "Is it all right if we talk for a minute?"

"Yes, Master Agamotto." You answered politely from the floor, though a clearly tired voice.

"It's been three days since you left your chambers." He remarks. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry, Master."

"And you need to train too." He tries, but you let out a whining laugh.

"I'll never train again." You retort, but Agamotto sighs softly.

"I figured you would say that." He says patiently. "I would also like to say that Master Kaecillius has been dismissed from the Kamar Taj."

You hug your knees, sinking your face into them, not very interested, but Agamotto kept talking.

"The masters have come to the conclusion of his negligence and abuse of authority during the mentorship of both Samuel and yourself." Says the man. "Therefore, he will no longer be part of this temple."

"And what difference does that make?" you retort with your voice muffled by your own skin. "My brother is already dead."

Agamotto sighs again, nodding. "I know, Y/N. I repeat again my sincere condolences."

You only sniffle softly, hiding yourself further against your knees, and Wanda finds your adult version's hand.

"Do you think you are ready to talk about what happened that day?" Agamotto asks.

Your smaller version sniffles slightly, but raises her head. "You know what happened. I killed him."

"It was an accident, Y/N." Agamotto recalls, but you let out an incredulous sigh.

"I threw the stick."

"And not even an adult would have enough strength to do that in that way, much less a little girl." Argues the man back, but you only lean your face back on your knees, your face stained with tears. "Y/N, you understand that it wasn't your fault, don't you?"

"I'm tired, master, can I be alone?" is what you mutter to him, and Agamotto sighs in defeat, but doesn't insist.

As he gets up to leave the room, Wanda looks at your adult version.

"Hey, look at me." She asks and waits for you to wipe away one of the tears that has fallen to obey. "You know it wasn't your fault right?"

You give Wanda a small, tearful laugh, moving closer to kiss her forehead before pulling away.

"Keep watching, pretty girl." You murmur to her, and despite the slight frown, Wanda doesn't insist because another memory begins.

This time, the room that had formed was much better lit, and Wanda smiled faintly at the image of your younger version - who, although still somewhat pale and underweight, had clearly showered and put on clean clothes. You were sitting on a cushion, while Agamotto from the opposite seat, was preparing tea for the two of you.

"I was glad you accepted my request this afternoon." Master comments and you can't manage to give him a smile but raise your eyes to him.

"Master Yao insisted that I tried." You muttered low. "He used the age card." Your joke made Agamotto laugh, and you smiled short at the reaction. He poured the tea before speaking again.

"Master Yao makes fun of this, but I fear that soon I must leave this world." Declares the master making you look at him with a frown.

"Sir, don't say that!" You say. "You're not that old! You have what 100 or...?"

"A million years old."

"A million-what the fuck?" You exclaim in surprise and quickly mumble apologies.

Wanda giggles at the scene.

"I have reincarnated many times in these centuries, child." Agamotto continues. "In this body, I have lived for 231 years, but something has happened recently and I see that soon, I will be ready to rest beside my Vishanti."

You swallow dryly, half confused by the story. "You know the day you will die, then? Sounds scary."

Agamotto smiles, shaking his head gently. "It's reassuring, in a way, to know that I will die protecting someone I love."

You blink in surprise, finishing your sip of tea before commenting, "I will miss you, Master Agamotto."

The man seems to be quite heartfelt about this because his eyes fill with tears, but he quickly excuses himself and wipes them away, pouring more tea for both of you.

"I didn't call you here to listen to the whining of an old man, little L/N." He comments with a smile. "I need to talk to you about your magic."

You sigh softly, playing with the handle of your cup. "Yeah, I figured you'd soon ask me about that." You comment. "I remember the rules, and now that Master Kaecillius is no longer my mentor, I also understand the pressure for an answer. But I don't think I'm ready to train yet."

Agamotto frowns slightly, gesturing in the air. "Y/N, Kaecillius should not be a concern for you anymore in any way. If the Kamar Taj doesn't suit you as a home, if you want a family like the one you had, we could enroll you in adoption services-"

"No!" you cut in with a grimace. "Please, not that. I don't desire new parents, I promise. The old ones have traumatized me enough." You comment and the man gives a guilty chuckle, nodding.

"That's all right, child. Well, know that what we have most here are mentors. You won't be destitute."

"As long as I train." You complete, and the man sighs, looking at you.

"I did not call you here to insist that you return to practicing the mystic arts as soon as possible." He says. "I called you here to talk about another kind of Sorcerer."

You frown softly in surprise, but the master just gestures in the air for a large book to float up from the back of the room and open on the table.

"How familiar with the ancient legends are you, Miss L/N?" The master asks. You sigh.

"Depends, am I going to be in trouble if I say I didn't pay attention in History of Magic class?" You joke getting a chuckle back.

"Don't worry, those legends are part of the Master's Collection. Nothing we teach, but rather something the students must seek out for themselves."

"Well, I'm in for some points then, because I know all the stories of the ancient gods." You brag in a joking tone, pointing to the figures taking shape on the previously blank pages of the books. "These are Oshtur, and Gaea...this is Sit, right?"

Agamotto looks slightly impressed as he goes on to confirm, but Wanda is more surprised about the way you quote the names and mention some of the legends with almost admiration.

"And what do you think of the gods, Y/N?" Agamotto asks as you turn the page, and you shrug.

"They're cool, I guess." You say and giggle. "They're super powerful and they never die, that's the best part I think. It would be super neat to meet one of them someday, but I have no way to go to another dimension so I'll dream about Disneyland in the meantime." You comment, getting another loud laugh from the master.

He flips through a few pages, and Wanda offers your adult version a curious look.

"I thought you hated the gods." She says, and you give her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I hated them this day." You reply, and she blinks in surprise but watches again.

Agamotto stops the book at a page where there is a long row of figures wearing capes of various colors. Above and behind, a larger faceless figure, its eyes completely golden.

"And these here, Y/N, have you heard of them?" He asked and with your negative nod, he continued. "These are the legendary Oshtur’s Order of Knights, who overthrew the Chaos God Chthon's domain over one hundred thousand years ago."

"Um, I heard about the Chaos’s fall." You mutter, leaning in to get a better look at the knights. "Chthon was banished to the realm of K'lay by the new god Amon Ra but all the books talk about his desire to return and dominate all the realms he can reach and how he constantly kept sending demons back to earth. But I've never heard of the Order."

Agamotto nods. "That is because it was destroyed." He says causing you to widen your eyes in surprise. "The knights gave their lives to end Chthon’s influence, but the god of Chaos created a new kind of creature for his revenge."

The master turned the page, and Wanda held her breath as she recognized the image.

"The Scarlet Witch is a natural witch forged with ancient magic." Counters the master nodded to the drawing of the witch's figure, several runes around it, and you bit the inside of your cheek, eyes curious and hands resting on the table to see straight. " Her power is superior to that of the Supreme Sorcerer."

"But no one is stronger than you, Master Agamotto!" You exclaim making him smile affectionately.

"Oh, child, there are so many more powerful and stronger than me."

"A natural witch? That sounds like a lie. I bet the book is wrong." You mutter making him laugh.

"No, Y/N, the Book of the Vishanti never lies." He says stroking the cover for a moment. "The Forging of the Scarlet Witch happens when Chthon blesses her with chaos magic."

"Wow, that is so cool." You exclaim and quickly excuse yourself. "I mean, not cool at all, because they're bad guys."

The master laughs, shaking his head in disapproval.

"The magic of an Old God, Y/N, is far greater than any power any sorcerer or wizard ever possesses." Continues the man. "Chthon forged a creature capable of shaping reality with her own thoughts, and the best part is that he controlled her completely."

You saw on the pages a few glimpses of the darkhold, but Agamotto switched to the next one, where two figures were on their backs and besides the runes, there was a description for each.

"The existence of a Scarlet Witch with no equivalent, that is, a being capable of matching her power, either to contain or stop it, caused an incalculable imbalance to the natural law." The master continued. "So the sorcerers of the time asked Oshtu for a miracle. And she blessed a noble warrior with enough power to restore order from chaos."

The page glowed a little as the figure on the right awoke, a white and gold cloak forming while his image detached itself from the other.

"This warrior was named Guardian of the Order, both in tribute to the fallen knights they were guarding, and the kind of magic the Guardian could do." The master recounted. "Order Magic is the exact opposite of Chaos Magic, although in practice they do the same thing."

Your younger version poked at the Guardian's figure, smiling when the drawing complained. "And this little guy managed to beat the Witch?"

Agamotto gave a small smile, watching you play with the Guardian figure running across the pages.

"He did, then he took his own life afterward." He says causing you to widen your eyes in surprise.

"What? Why?"

Agamatto lets out a sigh. "He fell in love."

You give a small laugh, shaking your head. "What an idiot." You mutter turning your attention back to the figure, which seemed to grow angrier with each poke you gave the drawing.

"Yeah, he was."

You hesitate, biting your lower lip before asking, "You knew him?"

Agamotto gave you a very sad smile, "He was my oldest son."

"Oh, master, I didn't know. I'm sorry." You say, but he gestures for you not to worry.

"Only a descendant of mine would be able to survive my mother's blessing." Agamotto continued, ignoring your shock at discovering that he too was the son of the goddess of order. "I was there during the forging, but I could not be present when he decided he could not live with what he had done for the sake of the universe."

You sigh softly, absorbing the story. "So even though he loved her, your son had to kill the Scarlet Witch because of the Chthon's dominance?"

"Exactly." Agamotto confirmed. "But that had been many centuries ago. The Scarlet Witches and the Guardians had ceased to exist for many, many millennia. And whenever Chthon tried to cast a new one, the Knights of the Order would emerge to interfere before that happened."

"I thought they were dead." You comment, but Agamatto smiles briefly.

"The originals are gone forever, but sometimes warriors so talented in the mystic arts emerge that it is a common belief that they were baptized by the Knights." Agamatto continues. "I myself have had the honor of knowing, over these millennia, thirteen warriors blessed by the Ancient Knights."

"That's little for a million years." You grumble making him laugh.

"Well, only Oshtur is omnipresent." He retorts in the same tone. "I have been fortunate enough to know so many, without the forging of a witch, they are not even necessary. But a few years ago, I myself saw one receive Oshtur's call."

"Really, master?"

"Yes, it was a very beautiful thing." Says the man. "Out in the Caribbean, and she was just a waitress. She was serving glasses, and suddenly, she almost burst all the bottles. Although she lost her job, she was invited to the Kamar Taj."

"Wow, does that mean we had a Scarlet Witch?" Your younger version asks excitedly.

"Her name was Natalya Maximoff and she died the same night you and your brother arrived at this temple." Tells the master impressing you a little.

Wanda raises her hand, pausing the memory, and you sigh at her trembling fingers.

"Sweetheart, let's keep watching." You say, reaching your hand out and interlacing hers. "Don't listen to voices, except mine. I'm here beside you, and I'm not going anywhere." You assure her, and it takes a moment for Wanda to be able to watch again.

The memory shuddered before continuing.

Your younger version had a thoughtful frown on her face.

"You're not thinking it was a coincidence, are you master?" You ask and Agamatto denies it with his head.

"There are no such things as coincidences, Miss L/N." He says as he unhurriedly closes the book, and looks at you seriously. "When the last warrior failed to defeat the Scarlet Witch, I knew something was different. And when two mutant children knocked at my house the night that witch fell, I knew for sure."

"B-but I'm not a mutant..."

Agamatto reached out to hold your hand on the table. "No, you are more special than Homo Superior. You are a Knight of the Order."

Confusion, disbelief, and even fear flashed through your eyes. You pulled your hand back with a nervous laugh.

"Look, Master, with all due respect, but that's highly unlikely." You began clumsily. "You said yourself that knights are exceptional, and well, I'm pretty average, aren't I? I can't even complete Master Mordo's lessons, and I don't like the practice very much either... I even think the legends of the gods are cool, but I highly doubt that any of them, much less the powerful Oshtur would want anything to do with me and-"

"She already claimed you, Y/N." Agamatto announced seriously getting up. And ignored your confused look to continue, "It happened six weeks ago, in the accident with your brother."

You frowned, ready to ask what he was talking about, but the look on your master's face made you understand. You stood up abruptly, your eyes filled with tears.

"Are you telling me that... When I threw the stick-"

"Oshtur delivered your knightly blessing." Agamatto added. "It was, of course, an unfortunate moment. But the immeasurable honor of receiving-"

You cut Agamatto off with an incredulous laugh, your eyes filled with tears that you let fall. Your hand rises to your own chest as well, breathing out of rhythm.

"I... I killed him..." You muttered out of coherence, and Agamatto quickly went around the table to kneel beside you.

"The way of the gods is sometimes confusing, Y/N. But you need to understand that we are talking about the universe, something infinitely greater than just a casualty." Continues the man. "Other blessings have happened after yours, not only in this world but in dozens of others. The next Scarlet Witch will be powerful on the level of a Guardian, and the Chosen One will need their knights."

You raised your eyes to your master, anger glowing in your irises. "Oshtur made me kill my brother for a tale? And you have the nerve to tell me to be grateful for that?" You accuse pushing the master's hand on your shoulder away and standing up.

"Y/N, please..."

"You and the gods that go to hell."

As the image of your child version drifted away, Wanda interrupted.

"That's enough for today." She declares, and you mutter in understanding. Unaware of Chthon's whispers in her head, mocking her as he says:

What a funny story, don't you think, Scarlet Witch? Being in love with the one destined to kill you. I wonder if you would like to end things like the first guardian did. If you like, I'll choose which wrist to cut.

When Wanda instinctively squeezes your hand, you offer her a confused smile:

"Everything okay?"

She forces a smile, but when she goes to lie, her tears give her away. You sigh - Carol's roof already shaped around you as you return to your bodies - and you pull her into your lap, hugging her tightly.

"Wands, I would never hurt you." You murmur against the skin of her neck. "I would kill the gods if I had to."

She swallows dryly, her tears staining your shirt.

Chthon is laughing at the promise in the back of her mind, but Wanda pushes him away, burying her face in your neck and inhaling deeply until your scent is all in her senses.

--//--

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #avengers imagines #Rulers of The Multiverse

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newtonsheffield · 1 year

Note

Is Kate exasparated that Anthony bought an Aston Martin or is she relieved it's no longer his Porsche, or God forbid, a brand new Jaguar?

Oh he still has the Porsche, he added the Aston Martin because he thought Kate would like it better.

Kate meanwhile pinched the bridge of her nose when he leaned against this outside her shop one day.

“What the hell is that?”

Anthony blinked at her, “It’s… I got us a little treat. You hate the Porsche so I thought this was… you hate it.”

“A little treat?!” Kate scoffed, “That’s worth more than most people make in a year! Why can’t you just buy a Volkswagen?!”

“A Volks-?!” Anthony squawked, “This is only a DBS! Not even a Valkyrie. It’s- It’s barely arseholish!”

“Whose is the wanker car?” Sophie asked as she breezed and Anthony’s face fell while Kate snorted.

“I like it better than the Porsche.” Kate agreed, wrapping her arms around Anthony, kissing the top of his head.

“Just drive it once.” Anthony said, “You’ll see how fun it is.”

Kate clicked her tongue, nudging him into the open passenger seat before she dropped into the driver’s seat, revving the engine.

“Oh yeah.” Kate tutted as they say in peak our traffic. “This is a hoot.”

“Don’t.” Anthony said, “Don’t say anything.”

And just to spite her, he buys her a matching one for her birthday. His and hers Aston Martins, though hers is Royal Purple.

And she hates to admit it, but it actually is very fun to drive.

#lavender haze au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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strangerstilinski · 1 year

Text

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter six

fic summary; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

chapter word count; 15,008

chapter notes; the alpha throws a dangerous wrench in amber's plans for a girl's movie night, and lydia is left mildly traumatized by the events. scott goes awol. amber gets her first glimpse of kate argent. parent teacher conferences get a little crazy thanks to a *ahem* mountain lion.

masterlist

c h a p t e r s i x

the tell

In the backseat of Mrs. Martin's Volkswagen, Amber was sitting with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the vacant passenger seat that she'd thought she would be sitting in. Lydia had borrowed her mother's vehicle for the evening and Amber let her eyes travel over to where the strawberry blonde sat behind the wheel of the car.

"Hey, what did you do with all those balloons, anyway?" Amber questioned suddenly, leaning forward in her seat and tucking a lock of her ashy brown hair behind her ear. She'd nearly forgotten about the favor she'd done for Lydia that afternoon.

"I hid them in Allison's locker for her birthday." Lydia smiled, turning onto the next street. "Thank you for picking them up, I couldn't get the car until my mom got home."

"Oh!" Amber said in surprise at the new information, "Yeah, it was no problem." She smiled as she recalled how Stiles had slapped at the balloons in annoyance as they floated around the inside of the Jeep. He'd agreed to drive her back to the school that afternoon so she could hand them off to Lydia, and he had been very vocal about his regrets.

Amber's smile was wiped away and replaced with a frown when they turned to park in Jackson's driveway. The girls waited for him to come out to the car so that he could join in on what Amber had thought was supposed to be a girl's movie night.

"I still cannot believe you invited Jackson to our movie night," Amber hissed as Jackson opened the front door and stepped out onto the stoop.

"Oh, come on, babe-" Lydia sang, glancing at her friend in the rearview mirror, "It's one movie night. And besides, Jackson's been acting really strange since last week.. I couldn't say no."

Amber thought back to the look of sickening fear on Jackson's face after Derek had shoved him against the lockers a week before. She sighed, settling back into her seat as Jackson pulled the passenger door open.

"Hey," Jackson said to his girlfriend, dropping into the seat and leaning across the center console to peck Lydia on the lips. "Amber." He greeted her with a grimace before turning to buckle his seatbelt.

"Hi, Jackson." Amber said as politely as she could manage as Lydia pulled out of the driveway and headed in the direction of the video rental store. She absently picked at a loose thread on her jeans for a few minutes before breaching the silence, "So, what movie are we gonna get?"

"Here me out," Jackson started, turning to face Lydia with his hands up in a placating gesture, "I have a movie that I think all three of us will enjoy-"

"What kind of movie?" Amber asked, leaning forward in her seat in interest.

Jackson sighed at the question, "Okay, so it's a Drama.." He hedged slowly.

"And?" Lydia prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"And also a sports movie-"

"No."

"Lydia, c'mon!" Jackson pleaded, "It's really good!"

"No." Lydia repeated as she slowly turned into the parking lot, "We are not watching some stupid movie about football or whatever."

"No," Jackson argued, "Hoosiers is not only the best basketball movie ever- It is the best sports movie ever made."

"No." Lydia blinked, unimpressed as she put the car in park.

"It's got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper." Jackson defended.

"Who?" Amber asked from the backseat. Jackson quickly turned to shoot daggers at her with his eyes and she frowned in apology, leaning back in her seat.

"No." The redhead said again, continuing to stare out the windshield.

"Lydia, I swear to god you guys are gonna like it-"

"No."

"I am not watching The Notebook again!" Jackson said angrily. Lydia turned her head toward her boyfriend slowly and said nothing but she gave him a sinister smile.

Jackson took a deep frustrated breath and huffed loudly through his nose, getting out of the car and slamming the door closed behind him. He made his way into the video store and Amber unbuckled her seatbelt, moving to go in with him.

"I'll just.. Go and make sure he grabs something decent."

Amber trailed in a few seconds behind Jackson, and looked around the large room at all of the shelves holding different genres of movies. A phone was trilling loudly at the empty front desk and Amber sighed in annoyance as it just kept ringing, never going through to any sort of machine.

"Can somebody help me find The Notebook?" Jackson called out loudly and Amber snorted in amusement.

"I'm sure we can find something else." She laughed at him, squatting down to peer at the movie cases on the bottom shelf in the aisle labeled 'Romantic Comedies'.

"Hello?" Jackson called out again, walking past the aisle that had caught Amber's attention and moving further into the store, "Is anybody working here?" He sighed and the lights in the store flickered, drawing Amber's attention toward the ceiling. "You gotta be kidding me." Jackson mumbled.

Amber rose to stand and her eyes caught on the ladder that stood a few rows away. It was propped up beneath the flickering fluorescent light. She moved around Jackson and walked to stand underneath the hole in the ceiling, frowning in confusion. Someone had left the long light tube dangling down to rest on top of the ladder as if they'd stopped what they were doing mid-installation.

"Amber.." Jackson's voice was quiet as he took slow, measured steps toward her.

"What?"

The girl spun to face him and found his eyes were glued to the floor at the end of the aisle across from her. She turned her head to follow his eyeline and a scream slipped past her lips when she saw the full picture of what had caught Jackson's eye.

Jackson could see the feet that stuck out past the end of the shelf, but what was hidden inside the aisle was so much worse. There was a young man leaning against the shelf with his throat ripped out, the skin of his throat slashed from four long mangled cuts, blood dripped down to seep into his video store uniform shirt and leaving it stained a dark red. Worst of all, his eyes were open wide in unseeing fear behind his glasses.

Stumbling back in fright, Amber bumped into Jackson's chest just as he was coming to stand behind her. He reached up in an attempt to steady her with his hands on her arms but it was too late and the two of them fell backwards, tumbling into the ladder behind them. It crashed to the ground loudly, ripping the dangling light from the ceiling in the process and plunging the store into darkness.

"This can't be happening." Amber whined as Jackson pulled her up and steadied her on her feet again. Heavy, fear-filled breaths came from the boy beside her and the sound was only amplified by the way the lights flickered weakly in an attempt to come back on, the store remaining eerily dark.

There was a low growl from the darkest end of the store and Amber's head snapped up to look over Jackson's shoulder, a pair of glowing red eyes meeting her own from the darkest corner of the room.

"Jackson. Run." Amber whispered hurriedly, giving him a hard shove in the direction of the front door.

As soon as he had regained his footing, Jackson was turning back to grab her wrist, dragging her to squat down with him as he hid behind one of the shelves. They were both breathing too loudly, shaky exhales leaving their lips in quick bursts. Amber held a hand against her own mouth to muffle the sound as she peered out around the corner of the shelf slowly.

She looked back in the direction she'd seen the creature that she knew had to be the Alpha, something dark darting between the rows in a blur and rushing to the other side of the store with another low growl. A gasp escaped her at the sight of it and she retreated quickly back into the aisle, taking a few deep breaths.

The shelf the two were hiding behind shook against their backs and a handful of DVD cases rained down onto the ground around them. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and then another, and then another, and Amber belatedly realized it was the sound of the shelves knocking against one another as they toppled over like dominos down the row toward them.

"Shit-" Amber exclaimed, moving out of the aisle and pulling Jackson behind her. She slipped out of the way just as the shelf collapsed but the boy beside her was pinned underneath it from the waist down. "Oh my god! Jackson."

Amber tried in vain to lift the shelf off of the boy's legs but he was pinned not only by the weight of one, but the weight of all four of the shelves layered on top of one another. She groaned and lifted with all of her strength once again but the shelf only moved a couple of inches before she was forced to drop it back down again.

"Amber, just go-" Jackson pleaded.

Her stomach dropped at his words, "But-"

"Go." He hissed at her while attempting to pull himself free.

Amber whined miserably but rose to her feet. She looked up from the floor and her eyes widened at the sight of the beast now looming over Jackson's back. Its red eyes still glowed bright in the dark store as it reached down with a clawed, paw-like hand to pull at the collar of Jackson's jacket, leaning down to sniff at a newly exposed scab on the back of Jackson's neck.

She wasn't sure what it was smelling, but after a few seconds of huffing breaths over the boy's back, the Alpha rose to its full height again, towering over Amber by more than a foot. It was inhumanly tall, and black. Covered in thin, mangy fur. It had a horrifying, wolf-like face, its mouth pulled back to display dangerously sharp teeth as it snarled at her.

The Alpha took a menacing step forward and Amber countered it with one step back, her wide eyes glued to the creature in fear. Her hands shook as she slowly matched its steps in an attempt to keep the beast at a distance.

On her fifth step toward the back of the store, Amber stumbled over the ladder yet again where it had fallen to the ground and she tripped as her foot caught on the metal. She fell to the ground, catching herself on her elbows and gasping when the thin shards of glass from the broken light cut through the skin of her bare arms.

The Alpha leapt forward several feet until it loomed over her, leaning down to sniff at her in the same way it had done to Jackson just a few moments before. It sniffed at her hair first, huffing a hot, sneeze-like breath over the top of her head before it moved to sniff lower, breathing in and out at the collar of her tshirt. Amber whimpered quietly when its nose brushed against the skin of her throat but It moved to sniff lower again, stopping at a spot on the fabric that covered the center of her chest. It huffed another hot breath accompanied by a quiet growl before taking one step away from her.

Suddenly, the Alpha turned and took off in the direction of the front of the store, jumping straight through the large glass window with a loud crash and running into the dark of the night.

Amber remained on the floor for a moment and took a few slow, trembling breaths before her mind cleared and she frantically moved to untangle her legs from the ladder, more small shards of glass driven into the skin of her forearms as she struggled to get up.

"Jackson!" She called out as she got to her feet. She rushed back to the front of the store on shaky legs, "Oh my god, are you okay?"

"Would you just call someone strong enough to get me out from under here!" The boy snapped at her.

"I- Jeez, okay," Amber relented quietly, pulling out her cell phone to call 911, "I thought near-death experiences were supposed to bring people closer together, not turn them into bigger assholes." She muttered under her breath as she dialed the phone and exited the store.

As soon as she stepped foot outside, she caught sight of Lydia staring out the windshield with wide, fear-filled eyes and Amber hesitated as the operator picked up on the other end of the phone, aching to comfort her friend. She shook her head with a trembling breath, moving to the other end of the parking lot as she spoke to the woman on the phone and reported the dead worker. If she were far enough away, Amber hoped her friend wouldn't be able to overhear anything, so she paced at the edge of the pavement as she spoke, not wanting to scare Lydia any further.

When Amber hung up the phone with shaking fingers a few minutes later, she rushed back toward Lydia, finding her still in the same position that Amber had left her in, with fear-filled eyes glued to the empty space in front of her. Amber wrenched the car door open and knelt down onto the pavement to take Lydia's hands in hers.

"Lyds, babe-" Amber said softly, her voice only slightly shaky, "Are you okay?"

The redhead didn't speak, continuing to stare ahead of her still with wide, unblinking eyes and Amber sighed, taking a shallow breath and rubbing Lydia's cold hands softly between her own. She gently toyed with her friend's fingers while whispering quiet soothing words, hoping to pull her friend out of her state. Amber continued for several long minutes, time dragging in a haze before she spotted an ambulance pulling into the parking lot with flashing lights.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Amber told Lydia softly, still not getting a response.

Leaving the car door ajar, Amber made her way over to the ambulance just as three EMTs were exiting the vehicle, all rushing toward her with rapidfire questions until Amber pointed them all in the direction of the store.

"There's a worker dead inside," She told them past a lump in her throat, "And-And my friend Jackson, he's stuck under some shelves but- I wasn't strong enough to lift them."

They nodded and rushed inside, one of them heading to the back of the store where Amber knew the dead worker was still lying while the other two moved to free Jackson as quickly as possible.

Amber made her way back to the Volkswagen and enveloped one of Lydia's hands in her own again, standing just outside the driver's side door.

When two police cruisers pulled into the lot a few minutes later, the group of officers split off and spread out to cover the scene. One of the officers cautiously approached where the girls were waiting at the car and patiently began to ask Amber a long list of questions, collecting as much information from the frightened girl as he could.

"The animal, did you get a good look at it?" The officer questioned eventually.

"I, yeah, uh.. It got pretty close." Amber told him nervously.

"Do you think it could've been a mountain lion?" He asked her.

"A mountain lion." Lydia repeated quietly from inside the car.

"Uh, yeah, a mountain lion sounds right." Amber corroborated, squeezing Lydia's hand.

As soon as the shelves were lifted enough for him to slip out, Jackson rushed outside, shoving past the two paramedics in the store when they tried to check him for injuries. He made a beeline for Amber and Lydia just as a police officer a few yards away was lifting a hand in signal, the officer who had questioned them darting over to assist with something. Jackson shoved Amber out of the way when he got to the vehicle, his focus on where Lydia was still sitting inside the car. He leaned in to pull her from the vehicle, speaking to her softly.

Amber took a reluctant step back from the couple, turning to watch through the broken window as two of the EMTs and a coroner moved over toward the dead body while the third paramedic made his way back outside to check on the teens. The paramedic led Lydia and Jackson over to the back of the ambulance and waved for Amber to follow when he caught her gaze.

She joined them just as Lydia was being guided to sit at the end of the ambulance between the open doors and Amber rushed to her friend's side, squeezing in to stand beside Jackson.

The paramedic glanced back at Lydia for a moment before he spoke to Jackson and Amber quietly, "She's not responding due to shock.. That should wear off soon. But she's got some blood on her hands and clothes-"

"She's not bleeding." Amber assured him. Her eyes fell to the blood on the backs of Lydia's hands and shirt and Amber frowned in confusion.

"Miss.. Are you alright?" He asked her, finally taking a moment to look the brunette up and down in scrutiny.

"I'm fine." She told him impatiently, "Could you please just get her a blanket or someth-"

"You're bleeding." Jackson muttered into her ear.

"What?" Amber looked down at herself and her eyes caught on the large smudges of blood that trailed down the skin on the backs of her arms. Now that she was looking at the red stains, the glass embedded in her flesh suddenly stung painfully, "I-I forgot." She admitted quietly.

"It's because of the adrenaline. That happens a lot." The EMT assured her. He gently guided her to sit down beside Lydia, climbing into the back of the ambulance and moving around behind them in the space. He re-emerged a few moments later with tweezers, a small metal bowl, gauze, cotton balls, and rubbing alcohol.

Amber pressed her knee into Lydia's thigh and sat silently as the paramedic raised Amber's trembling right hand above her shoulder and began to pull tiny shards of glass from the back of her forearm. She winced with each piece that was tugged gently from her skin before being dropped into the metal dish beside her.

Jackson moved off to the side after a moment, mumbling something under his breath about calling both Lydia's parents and his own.

Amber watched through the colorful lights flashing in the parking lot while the police officers worked quickly to block off the building with yellow tape. They moved around methodically, speaking with one another and frequently speaking into the radios that were clipped onto their shoulders.

By the time Jackson returned, the paramedic had finished removing the glass in Amber's right arm and had moved on to clean the cuts with alcohol while she bit down her lip painfully at the sting it caused, trying not to pull away.

"I'm going to head out." Jackson announced, standing several feet away.

The EMT didn't look up from where he was tending to Amber's arm, "I'd still like someone to take a look at your head before you go-" He insisted for what must not have been the first time.

"No, I'm fine," Jackson snapped, "I'm not one of the people here who are dead or bleeding."

Amber looked up to give the boy a look of astonishment, "Jesus, Jackson. Way to be sensitive-"

A Sheriff's Department cruiser pulled into the parking lot just as Jackson was turning to face Amber with a dark look, "Oh, shut up, Callisto. You're the one who left me trapped in there-"

"I- You told me to!" Amber defended herself, wincing when the paramedic began to pull tiny shards of glass from her left arm.

"This is ridiculous! I'm not even injured," Jackson's voice rose as he argued with the paramedic who was still focussed pulling glass from Amber's skin, "Why the hell can't I just go home? I'm fine." His voice trailed off into something quieter as he finished speaking.

"I hear ya, but the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard," Sheriff Stilinski's voice cut in as he approached the group. His gaze caught on the brunette sitting at the back of the ambulance and he paused, frowning at her with worry for a moment before he re-focussed his attention on Jackson, "They just wanna make sure don't have a concussion."

"My god. Jackson, just let them look at your head. It'll take five minutes." Amber finally said, yelping when a particularly long piece of glass was pulled from the underside of her arm above her elbow.

"What part of 'I'm fine' are you people having a problem grasping?" Jackson asked, raising his voice again, "Okay? I wanna go home."

"And I understand that-" The Sheriff started gently.

"No, you don't understand! Which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a basic concept to grasp for a minimum wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay, Now I wanna go home!" Jackson yelled in the Sheriff's face.

Amber had heard enough. She pulled her arm out of the paramedics grasp with an angry snarl and closed the small distance between herself and Jackson with purpose, her fists clenched in rage, nails digging into the palms of her hands. She was only a second away from hitting the boy when Sheriff Stilinski stepped between them and gently pushed her back with his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh, woah! Is that a dead body!?" She heard Stiles' voice cut through the tension.

Her fury dissolved immediately and her head snapped around to see the boy standing at the passenger side of his dad's cruiser, his arms draped over the open door with an arm pointing in the direction of the store behind them.

The Sheriff gave his son a disappointed look and Stiles began to shrink back before his eyes landed on where his dad was releasing Amber's shoulders from his grip.

"Amber?" Stiles called out worriedly, slamming the car door shut as he stumbled over his own feet and jogged toward the back of the ambulance.

"Stiles," She sighed in relief at seeing her best friend, flinching in surprise when she felt the paramedic place a hand on her shoulder and guide her to sit still again, this time off to the side so that the other EMTs could wheel the dead body into the back. "Sorry," She apologized to the man quietly as he wordlessly lifted her arm and resumed with the tweezers.

"What happened?" Stiles asked in concern, looking her over and narrowing his eyes when another tiny piece of glass was plucked from her arm.

"I tripped?" She settled on in explanation for now. Her eyes flicked nervously over the large crowd of people that had filled the parking lot.

The paramedic began to wipe her cuts clean with alcohol again without warning and she winced, reaching out automatically to grip Stiles' hand in her free one.

Stiles looked at her worriedly while the paramedic wrapped gauze around her forearms before the man left the two teens alone. Stiles pulled gently on Amber's hand in his and tugged her away from the crowd to stand behind his father's car, leaning close to speak to her quietly, "Okay. So, what actually happened?"

She swallowed, tightening her grip on his hand, "The Alpha killed the video store clerk," She explained in a choked voice, "He chased me and Jackson but didn't hurt us at all. I-I don't know why-"

"Your arms?" He interrupted, eyes flicking down to her bandage injuries before meeting her own again.

"I tripped and fell in a little bit of glass from a broken light, it's fine," She assured him before continuing, "But the Alpha, it just- Smelled us both and then ran away."

He took a deep breath and she watched as he licked his lips in thought before his gaze dropped and paused on her chest, "Where did you get that shirt?" He asked.

She glanced down at the dark gray tshirt she was wearing. She'd tied the oversized shirt in a knot at the bottom, cropping it above the waistband of her jeans to reveal a strip of skin on her stomach.

"I don't know-?" She said honestly, "I was running late when Lydia picked me up and I just threw it on. It was in my room. I figure it's either yours or Scott's."

Stiles reached out to tug at the neckline, pulling it out to look at the tag sewed into the collar, "It's not mine," He confirmed, leaning back to look at the front of the shirt again, "Scott?"

"I don't- You don't think the reason the Alpha didn't kill me is because I smelled like Scott?" She asked nervously, heart rate picking up.

"Maybe," He replied, "But then, why didn't it kill Jackson?"

"I'm not sure." She furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at the boy in front of her.

The flickering red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles filtered over his face in a haunting way, the blinking glow bringing the ever-present queasy feeling from the knots in her stomach into a sudden focus.

Her eyes drifted back to the video store. The broken glass on the pavement in front of the large front window reflected the shining colors of the lights. The yellow crime scene tape flapped back and forth in places where officers were ducking underneath it to move in and out of the building. The tshirt she was wearing suddenly felt too heavy against her skin as she remembered the way the Alpha had sniffed it deeply before growling and exhaling a hot menacing breath over her.

"Amber?" Stiles called out quietly, his voice sounding oddly distant to her ears.

She belatedly realized that she wasn't entirely sure when she'd last taken a breath and she attempted to inhale deeply but her lungs barely managed to pull anything in before she was forced to exhale again with a sharp gasp. She tried again and found herself choking on the air as she sucked it in, looking up at Stiles with wide panicked eyes as she felt her chest tighten with anxiety at the lack of oxygen.

"Hey, you need to breathe." Stiles said gently, reaching up to rest his hands on her shoulders and rubbing his thumbs softly back and forth.

"I-" She started before gasping around another too-small inhale, "Stiles- I can't."

He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly, cradling the back of her head and guiding her face into the crook of his neck in a practiced motion.

"Hey, listen to me," He said softly into her ear, "You're okay. I know you're scared, but I'm not gonna let anything happen to you ever again, y'hear me? You're okay-"

She gasped in a lungful of air and her whole body trembled when she exhaled against the warm skin of his neck.

He carded his fingers through her hair as he continued to murmur in her ear, "You're safe now. And I'm gonna keep it that way because- Because I'm the Batman of the group, yeah? You said so yourself. So, I'm gonna keep you safe." He promised quietly.

As he spoke, she finally managed to lift her hands from where they'd been hanging limply at her sides and she thrust them into the warmth beneath the fabric of Stiles' jacket and gripped desperately at his waist over the thin cotton of his shirt.

Every inhale filled her nose with the scent of him. The strongest thing she could smell was the lingering traces of his body wash, beneath that there was the laundry detergent from the collar of his shirt, and then a barely-there hint of sweat. She pushed her face further into his skin and breathed in the calming, familiar scents gratefully.

It took a few minutes, but her head slowly cleared, breathing evening out as more oxygen was pulled into her body. She continued to puff out warm breaths from her mouth, parted lips pressed into the soft skin of Stiles' neck. She focused on the sound of his voice, the gentle rhythm of his long fingers combing through her hair, his chest against hers.

"Yeah, y're okay," Stiles said softly, his mouth pressed close to her ear. He waited for her to take in a couple more deep, even breaths before his grip loosened around her shoulders, "Y'okay?"

"Yeah, I-" She let out an embarrassed laugh, speaking quietly, "I'm sorry."

"No, hey. Don't apologize, alright?" He combed his hand gently through her hair, pushing it back from her face.

"I don't know what happened, I just- I was thinking about the way it looked. The way it moved. The way it was so close that it could've ripped my throat out-"

"But it didn't, right? For whatever reason, it didn't. You're safe now." He assured her.

She took a deep breath and nodded just before Stiles' dad came to stand beside the pair. He squinted at her in scrutiny, "You doin' alright, Amber?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay now." She stepped out of Stiles' embrace but grabbed his hand in the process and interlaced their fingers.

"Alright. Well, I talked to the paramedic and he says you're all set to go home." The Sheriff told her.

"Good, cool." She nodded distractedly. Her mind raced with what she was going to say to her brother when she saw him, "Can we hold off on telling Jason about this until he's off shift?" Amber pleaded.

"No can do. I already called him-" The Sheriff told her. At her outraged squeak, he continued, "I'm sorry, kiddo, but it was out of my hands. You're a minor and you were injured at the scene of what we still have to consider a possible homicide."

"Oh, god." She whined, looking around the parking lot frantically as if Jason were about to appear out of thin air to yell at her.

"Not to mention this is the third time you've stumbled across a dead body in the last month-" The Sheriff frowned at her with a disappointed look that she was sure would rival the one she'd be getting from her brother at any minute. "I don't know what is going on with you kids, but this has gotta stop happening when you all are around. Y'hear me?"

Amber and Stiles both nodded.

"You're coming back to my place, right?" Stiles asked quietly into her ear when his dad was distracted by something happening behind them.

She nodded, whispering back, "Yeah, we need to talk to Scott ASAP and figure out what the hell-" She started before a faded red pickup truck caught her eye coming down the dark street.

When Jason's truck turned into the parking lot, it did so in a rush, coming to a stop just behind the Sheriff's cruiser without bothering to pull into a parking space. He flew out of the vehicle, rushing toward them, and his hands went to cup Amber's shoulder and the side of her head as soon as he was close enough to grab her.

She watched her brother huff out a relieved breath as he verified that she was mostly unharmed and she released her grip on Stiles' hand to stepped forward and pull Jason into a hug.

"I'm fine, I'm okay." She attempted to reassure him.

When she stepped back from the embrace, Sheriff Stilinski had pulled Stiles away, leaving the siblings to talk in privacy.

"What happened?" Jason asked her firmly.

"Um, they think a mountain lion might've gotten inside the store somehow before we got here.. It attacked the worker. Then it knocked some shelves over on top of Jackson, and I tripped trying to get away but- It, um, it just ran off."

"You're damn lucky it did," He told her, smoothing the hair at the side of her head down flat. His own hazel eyes went to the scene around them and he took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, "How are you feeling though? Really. Must be shaken up?"

"I- Yeah. I-I am. Shaken." She admitted quietly.

"I'd be worried if you weren't," He said with a small smile, squeezing her shoulder firmly in reassurance, "You ready to get out of here?"

"Can I- Would it be okay if I slept at Stiles' house tonight?" She asked nervously.

"Do I need to remind you what happened the last time I let you go to a friend's house right after something like this?" Her brother questioned. The cool and calm attitude he'd displayed since he arrived at the scene seemed to fade into something more panicked and Amber shrunk back under his gaze but she didn't speak, so he carried on, "You went out in the woods to look for the other half of a dead body. And I didn't find out until Noah Stilinski called to tell me about it almost two weeks later," He paused to take a breath, "And that was before we knew it was just an animal attack! For Christ's sake, Amber. You're killing me here."

She figured it would be in her best interest to let him get it all out at once, so still, the girl deigned not to speak. She chewed her lower lip and glued her eyes to a small stain on the collar of her brother's tshirt until he filled the silence again.

"You keep finding dead bodies, and you're trespassing on private property to get my old classmates arrested for suspected murder, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do to keep you out of trouble," Jason sighed, "Would things be different- If I didn't work so much? I'll leave the station if you want me to- I will. I can find a regular nine to five and-"

"No!" She interrupted quickly, "Jay, c'mon you love being a fireman." The girl reached up to rest her fingers over the hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry about digging up the Hale property and getting Derek arrested — I really am." She promised him.

He sighed after a moment and held a hand out, gesturing toward his parked truck, "Home tonight. Okay?"

"Okay." She agreed, following him toward the vehicle. She cast a final look back toward where Stiles was standing a couple yards away, waving to him sadly as she went.

The boy gave her a small reassuring smile in understanding and waved back just as she was climbing up into the truck. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she dropped her head back against the headrest with a sigh.

The next morning, after a fitful night's sleep, Amber was dropped off at school unreasonably early before Jason had to be back at the station. Her brother had insisted on giving her a ride, and after seeing the pleading look on his face, Amber couldn't help but agree.

The first bell wouldn't ring for another hour, so Amber wandered into the library to work on an English paper that wasn't due for another week. She managed to nail down her outline and wrote a few hundred words before she noticed a handful of students milling around the library, returning and checking out books, and she suddenly realized that there were only ten minutes left until the first bell.

Collecting her things in a rush, Amber made her way through the halls, pausing when she saw Allison just a few steps away from her locker. Amber smiled in giddy excitement and plastered herself to a locker beside the girl, leaning against it casually.

Allison gave her a sweet smile, "Hey, Amber." The girl seemed to pause in thought before her face set in determination, "Can I ask you about something that's been bothering me?"

"Yeah, of course." Amber agreed immediately.

"Why was Derek at the school last week?" Allison asked, her eyes downcast.

"Um," Amber started, struck dumb by the question, "He was- Looking for me."

"Mm, how come?" Allison questioned, fingering at the edge of her leather jacket.

"He- He wasn't feeling well, so-" Amber struggled to come up with a believable lie on the spot, "Stiles and I ended up giving him a ride to the doctor's office."

"Okay-" Allison responded slowly after a few seconds passed, "And you and Derek aren't still- Y'know?"

"No, no, we're not." Amber said quickly, "Just- Friends? Sort of."

Allison nodded, pursing her lips. She looked like she was about to ask another question so Amber deflected quickly.

"So.. Birthday girl," Amber started, grinning when Allison's eyes went wide and glanced around them to see if anyone had overheard, "How does it feel to be sixteen?"

"I- Uh, I'm actually turning-" Allison looked around them worriedly again before whispering, "Seventeen." Amber went to speak but Allison held up a finger to the girl's lips before speaking again, "Please don't tell anyone. It's always a huge thing when people find out-"

Amber laughed, pulling Allison's finger away from her lips, "Why is being seventeen such a big deal?" She asked, "Stiles turns seventeen in two months."

Allison seemed surprised at this, "Really?"

"Yeah," Amber said, "I mean, he was held back in elementary sc-"

Allison sighed loudly, "That's exactly what I'm worried about people thinking."

"Who cares?" Amber asked her, "People get held back. It happens. Being held back doesn't mean you're stupid or something." Amber said defensively.

"No, no, you're right." Allison said with a shake of her head, "I'm sorry."

Amber relaxed slightly, "It's okay."

Allison turned back toward her locker and moved to begin working the combination on the little purple padlock. When she got it undone, she pulled the door open and a cluster of colorful balloons tried to break free from the confined space. The girl frantically fought to push the balloons back inside and looked around with wide eyes while Amber laughed at her.

Pulling a small card from where it was magnetized to the inside of the door, Allison flipped it open and read the note inside.

"You and Lydia-" Allison began to whisper quietly before Scott approached them from the other side.

"Is it your birthday?" Scott asked innocently, pointing to where a balloon was about to drift free from Allison's locker yet again.

"No, no!" Allison said immediately, fighting with the balloons, "Uh, no. I mean, yes. Please don't tell anybody. I don't even know how Lydia and Amber found out."

Scott looked up at Amber with a wide eyed look of betrayal and she raised her hands in surrender, "I didn't know. Lydia asked me to bring her balloons after school yesterday and I did. She didn't tell me what they were for until last night."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Scott asked softly, his attention focussed on Allison.

"Because I don't want people to know." Allison said quickly before pausing, "Because- I'm seventeen."

"You're seventeen?" Scott asked in surprise, blind to the way Amber was waving her hands frantically for him to shut up.

"That's the reaction I'm trying to avoid." Allison said with an annoyed look.

"Why?" Scott tried to recover, grimacing when he caught Amber's eye, "I mean, I-I totally get it. Uh, you had to repeat a year because of all the moving around, right?"

Allison looked at him in surprise before closing her locker door. She turned her back to Amber and leaned into Scott's space to give him a slow kiss.

"What was that for?" Scott asked with a smile.

"For literally being the first person ever to make the correct assumption. Everybody always assumes I got knocked up or held back." Allison told him, taking a step back to lean against her locker and glance at Amber again.

"-Which, y'know, if either of those were true that would be okay too." Amber reminded her futilely.

"But, that's what you hear on your birthday?" Scott asked, ignoring his best friend.

"Oh, yeah." Allison told them, "All day long."

"Then- What if you and I get out of here?" Scott asked her with a tender look.

Allison looked at him closely, "Skip class?" She asked.

"Yeah, the whole day." Scott smiled, reaching up to pull gently at one of Allison's curls.

"Scott, are you sure that's a good idea-" Amber started, cutting herself off at the sharp look he gave her. She pursed her lips, rolling up onto the balls of her feet before dropping back down, "And, I am going to leave you two lovebirds to make your own questionable choices." She announced, stepping back from the pair slowly. 'Happy Birthday' she mouthed at Allison with a grin before turning and heading in the direction of her own locker with a shake of her head.

In third period Chemistry class, Amber took the open seat across from Stiles with a smile, rubbing her hand back and forth along the softness of his short hair as she passed him and fell into her seat.

They were having a quiet class period wherein they were all supposed to work on the problems from the current chapter in their textbook — so that they could ask questions if they had trouble with anything. Hardly anyone ever did ask for help, given that Mr. Harris was a condescending nightmare on a good day, but if they talked quietly enough, it was easy to work with the people at your table.

Amber pulled out her things as class started and she began copying down the questions into her notebook. Twenty minutes passed and she was only just beginning to work on question number three, the pencil in her hand having spent more time hovering over the page in her notebook than it had pressed against the paper. Her concentration was hard to keep focused when her eyes kept drifting up to the boy in front of her.

Stiles had shifted his stool to the corner of the table to be closer to her and he was rapidly highlighting important information in his textbook for when the two of them would make flashcards later on. He had the cap of the marker held between his teeth and she watched Stiles gnaw on it, his jaw working distractedly as he traced over the words.

Her attention was suddenly torn from the way that Stiles' lips wrapped around the tiny piece of plastic as Mr. Harris began to speak from the back of the room.

"Just a friendly reminder.. Parent/Teacher Conferences are tonight," He said as he began walking down the aisle between tables slowly, "Students below a 'C' average are required to attend. I won't name you.. Because the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment." As if the statement had triggered something in his brain, Mr. Harris paused at the end of Stiles and Amber's workbench, his eyes narrowing at the empty stool at their table. "Has anybody seen Scott McCall?"

Stiles looked up at where Mr. Harris was standing beside him but Amber bit her lip and looked down at her notebook in avoidance. She was saved from having to come up with a lie about her friend's whereabouts when Jackson walked into the room late, drawing their teacher's attention.

"Hey, Jackson," Mr. Harris spoke quietly, approaching the boy as he found his seat, "If you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know."

Jackson nodded and Amber scoffed at their teacher's kind comment. She'd been told nothing of the sort when she had entered the room at the start of class, despite her also having been attacked by a psychotic werewolf the night before.

Mr. Harris stepped back and moved to the chalkboard at the far end of the room, "Everyone, start reading the next chapter." He announced, pausing mid-step before speaking again, "Mr. Stilinski-"

Stiles' attention snapped up from his textbook again and he looked to the front of the room with wide eyes, surprised at having been called out.

"Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs," Mr. Harris told him loudly in front of the class, "It's Chemistry. Not a coloring book." He finished patronizingly.

Amber's eyes narrowed at their teacher's back before her eyes were drawn to the boy in front of her again. She watched as Stiles threw his head back, exposing his long neck and sharp jawline, her eyes following his eyes movement. He blew the marker cap from his mouth and up into the air over his head, snatching it effortlessly in his outstretched hand as it fell back through the air.

Amber leaned forward across the table on her elbows and nodded her head to beckon Stiles closer. His eyes seemed to trail down to the low cut of her shirt for a second before he leaned in on the edge of his stool, closing the distance until only a small gap separated them.

"Don't listen to him," Amber told her friend quietly, reaching out with the hand not holding her own writing utensil and grabbing the capped highlighter from him. She innocently fingered the cap, chewing her lower lip for a second as she thought about the place it had been between his teeth a only few moments before. She shook her head and blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear her thoughts, "It's a studying method that works for you-" She tapped the highlighter lightly on the tabletop, "..And he's a dickhead." She whispered as an afterthought.

She unthinkingly raised the highlighter cap to her own teeth to pull it off single-handed before holding the bright yellow marker back out to Stiles. He took it from her outstretched hand with a dazed look, eyes never leaving her face.

She grinned at him and the action reminded her that she still had the cap held between her lips. When she reached up to grab it, the piece of plastic slipped from between her fingers and dropped beneath the neckline of her shirt, stopping to settle at her belly button where her shirt had been tucked into the waistband of her jeans. She cursed quietly, leaning back on her stool and peering down her shirt to look for it. She reached past the lace of her bra to fish it out, the material of her shirt stretched slightly around her arm, and just as her fingers closed around the cap, there was a loud crash.

Amber flinched, looking up to see Stiles' stool toppled over at the end of the table and the boy on the floor with it.

"Stiles!" She said in quiet alarm, "Are you okay?"

Stiles' cheeks were flushed pink as he climbed to his feet again and righted his stool, nodding and wordlessly taking the marker cap from her fingers before sitting back down in his seat. He didn't look up at her as he slowly began highlighting the page of his textbook again and Amber blinked in confusion.

She glanced around the room and caught the eye of Danny Mahealani, who was sitting directly behind Stiles. He was already watching her and Stiles with an amused grin and when she gave him a questioning look, he shook his head and turned back around to face his own table again.

Weird.

At the end of the school day, Stiles rushed up to Amber and slammed his body into the open door of her locker. He gripped the metal before it could smash into the girl and moved to stand beside it.

"Scott is being painfully unhelpful and we need to figure out what exactly Lydia saw." He said quickly as she shuffled her books around, "Where is she, anyway?"

Amber shrugged, "She was really shaken up last night. I think she stayed home for the day, but she hasn't been responding to any of my texts." She explained, zipping up her backpack and pulling it over her shoulders.

"Well, we should go to her house and talk to her, then." Stiles said simply.

"I- Yeah, I mean- I was going to-" She paused when she caught his eye, deciding against telling Stiles her plans for the afternoon.

Stiles raised his eyebrows at her sudden silence and she sighed quietly, closing her locker, "No, we should definitely go see Lydia." She agreed.

When the two arrived at the Martin house, Lydia's mom answered the door with a smile, "Amber, sweetheart." The woman pulled her into a hug, "It'll be so good for Lydia to see you. She's been holed up in her room all day."

"Yeah," Amber agreed, pulling back from the embrace, "We just wanted to check on her."

As if she hadn't noticed him until that moment, the woman's eyes caught on the boy standing beside Amber, "Oh!" She said, "And who's this?"

"Uh, I'm Stiles." He said with an awkward wave.

"Well," Mrs. Martin said simply after a moment, "Let's get you two inside then."

The three climbed the stairs to Lydia's bedroom and Mrs. Martin knocked softly on the closed door, pushing it open and poking her head in as she spoke, "Honey, Amber and Stiles are here to see you."

Lydia was laying across the bed on her stomach in a beautiful but revealing blue nightgown, examining her fingernails distractedly. Her strawberry blonde hair was long and loose, falling messily around her, and when she looked up, her eyes looked drunkenly distant.

Amber pulled Stiles through the doorway by his hand as Lydia blinked, "What the hell is a styles?" She asked in sleepy confusion.

Mrs. Martin laughed awkwardly behind them, clasping her hands together, "She, uh, took a little something for her nerves," She told them as she began to pull the door closed behind her, "I'll just, I'll leave you three-"

"Thanks." Stiles told her as Amber pulled him over to the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Lydia asked, turning onto her side and exposing her chest as she focussed her attention on Amber.

"We wanted to make sure you were okay." Amber told her softly, moving to sit beside the girl and combing her friend's red hair back from her face with her fingers.

"Really?" Lydia asked, glancing at where Stiles was still standing beside the bed, "Both of you?"

"Yes, both of us," Amber told her, tugging Stiles down to sit beside her harshly and causing him to land very nearly in her lap, "We were both worried about you today."

"How're you feeling?" Stiles asked, looking at the redhead on the other side of Amber.

Lydia propped herself up on her elbow, leaning into Amber's hand in her hair for a moment like a cat who was enjoying being petted. The redhead then came closer until her forehead rested in the center of Amber's chest, Lydia's face pressed against the place where the fabric of Amber's low cut shirt revealed her cleavage.

Lydia spoke softly into Amber's skin, "I feel.. Fantastic." She slurred as Stiles watched them with wide eyes and huffed an awkward laugh.

Amber looked down at the girl in surprise and Lydia leaned back from her place between the brunette's breasts to settle a hand on her thigh instead. Amber looked over at Stiles with wide eyes of her own and saw the matching look of shock on his face.

Stiles suddenly reached around both girls to grab a little orange prescription bottle from the bedside table before examining the label. Amber leaned close, peering down at the plastic in Stiles' hands and reading the dosage of Lorazepam the doctor had prescribed.

"Lydia, your dose is only half a tablet to start, how much did you take?" Amber asked, pulling the bottle out of Stiles' fingers.

"Mm, I took two." Lydia said dreamily.

Amber shook her head in concern for her friend. Lydia was so hopped up on her medication, she was almost completely out of it.

Stiles looked at the redhead for a moment before a small smile pulled at his lips, "I bet you can't say 'I saw Suzy sitting in a shoeshine shop' ten times fast."

Amber laughed quietly, placing the bottle back on the table, "Stiles, I couldn't say that ten times fast."

Lydia leaned forward with a determined look on her face, "I saw Shuzy-" She started.

"Ah-" Stiles interrupted quietly with a grin.

Lydia sighed, eyes moving to Amber as she started again, "I shaw-" She said, her smile slowly fading until she flopped back down onto the bed heavily, "I saw."

"What?" Stiles asked.

Amber leaned closer, resting her hand on Lydia's arm, "Lydia, babe. What did you see?" She asked gently.

"Something." Lydia said distractedly.

"Something like-" Stiles prompted, resting a hand on Amber's thigh as he leaned closer, "A mountain lion?" He asked.

"A mountain lion." Lydia agreed with a small nod.

"Are you sure you saw a mountain lion?" Stiles asked.

"-Or are you just saying that because that's what the police and I said." Amber finished.

Lydia continued to stare at the wall at the side of the bed, "A mountain lion." She repeated.

Stiles reached around the two girls to grab a small stuffed giraffe from the bedside table, holding it out in front of his chest, "What's this?" He asked her.

Lydia turned to face the both of them again and looked at the stuffed toy in Stiles' hands, blowing a clump of hair out of her face before answering, "A mountain lion."

"..Okay," Stiles said slowly, putting the animal back where he found it and flopping down to sit beside Amber again, "She is so drunk."

Just as quickly as the words left his mouth, Lydia dropped her head into Amber's lap and nuzzled her face into the girl's stomach.

"Um.." Amber laughed quietly at their current position as the redhead reached an arm past Amber to place a hand at the top of Stiles' thigh.

Stiles gasped out a surprised breath and when Amber looked over to see what was wrong, her eyes caught on the spot where Lydia's fingers were resting on Stiles' upper thigh, just along the inner seam of his jeans.

Amber took pity on him and reached out to move the offending hand, but when her fingers settled over the top of Lydia's, Stiles made another choked noise, his mouth dropped open and he leaned back, clenching his eyes shut tight. At his shaky breath, Amber quickly removed their hands from where they'd both been clearly violating him.

"Sorry." She told him quietly, "..Are you ready to leav-"

"I gotta pee." Stiles said urgently, standing from the bed and turning his back to the two girls. He stumbled and tripped over his own feet as he headed in the direction of the door.

"I- The bathroom is across the hall-" Amber told him as he rushed from the room, "Well. You, he finds attractive," She told her unconscious friend quietly with a frown, "But then, don't we all?" Amber combed her fingers through Lydia's hair for another moment before sighing, "Alright, Lyds. We should really get going." She lifted Lydia's head from her lap and the girl pouted sleepily.

"Stay." She told her, sitting up straighter and reaching out to touch Amber's cheek, "Stay-" Lydia leaned closer and her green eyes traced slowly over her friend's face before cupping Amber's other cheek and holding her face softly between her hands. Lydia's thumb trailed down to brush over Amber's lip and she pulled it from where the brunette had it nervously pinched between her teeth, "Please?"

"Lyds, I-" Amber started nervously.

Lydia tilted her head forward and brought their mouths closer until their lips brushed together softly. Amber froze found her heart beating loudly in her ears at the barely there touch of lips.

"Oh for the love of-" Stiles' voice cut in loudly in distress.

Amber flinched and jumped back from the bed like she'd been burned. She watched as Lydia flopped down onto the mattress as if nothing had happened and snuggled into the pillows sleepily.

A moment of silence passed.

"Not. A word." Amber said quietly, lifting an accusing finger at the boy whose mouth had already been opening to say something.

Stiles raised his arms in surrender and Amber shook her head, her eyes caught on where Lydia's cell phone was sitting on the bedside table. She remembered how the redhead hadn't returned any of Amber's messages and wondered if it needed to be charged.

She took a step closer and picked up the phone, surprised when it immediately unlocked to display Lydia's camera roll. A video began to play automatically and Amber squinted at the dark grainy footage, her stomach dropping when she realized it was the moment that the Alpha had jumped through the front window of the video store. She paused it just as the creature broke through on the screen and gulped as she looked at the close-up of the Alpha's wolf-like mouth open in a snarl.

"I- Stiles?" She said in a quiet voice, waving him over.

He moved to stand beside her immediately, "What? What is it?" He asked.

She tilted the phone toward him and showed the frozen image of red eyes that glowed on the dark screen.

"What-? She got a picture of it?" Stiles asked frantically, pulling the phone from her hands.

"A video." Amber corrected quietly.

She took the phone back and texted the video to both Stiles and herself before deleting the file and the evidence of the outgoing messages, gently putting the phone back on the tabletop.

She turned, grabbing Stiles' hand and pulling him along behind her, "Let's go."

Despite the situation with the Alpha and her need to go speak with Derek growing more dire with every passing second — More than anything else, it was the guilt churning away in her gut that affected her the most.

Amber couldn't believe that she'd practically let a drug-delirious Lydia kiss her.

An hour later, Amber stepped off of her bike at the top of the gravel driveway in the preserve and made her way toward what was left of the large covered porch surrounding the Hale house. After a moment's hesitation, she wheeled her bicycle over to the side of the charred house instead of simply abandoning it out front. Once she had stowed her bike in the overgrown weeds and bushes, she climbed the porch and knocked on the chipped, soot-covered red paint of the front door.

The door was pulled open a few seconds later to reveal Derek standing in the entryway, shirtless and covered in a light sheen of sweat. In juxtaposition from the last time Amber had seen his muscled body shining with sweat, the sickly paleness from the week before had been replaced with a healthy looking glow.

"Why are you here?" He asked simply, raising his eyebrows with an unimpressed look.

"Why are you all sweaty?" Amber countered, stepping past him to enter the house. She looked around with barely concealed curiosity, eyes flicking over the room around them.

Unlike the caved-in shell that she knew stood at the back of the house, the front rooms seemed slightly less damaged. Standing in the entryway, she could almost imagine what the house might've looked like before it burned but regardless, Amber didn't much like the idea of Derek holed up in the ruins of the home where his whole family had burned alive.

Derek didn't respond to her evasive question, but he closed the front door and came to stand by the staircase in front of her, leaning back against the banister and crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for an answer to his own initial question.

"I wanted to check and make sure you were doing okay after last week-" She started. When Derek only proceeded in raising his eyebrows as if he didn't quite believe her, she carried on with a small sigh, "..And also I wanted to know if you figured anything else out about the Alpha. Scott's information distribution skills are crap at best and that thing could've killed me last night, but it didn't.. I want to know why, and also how we're planning to get rid of it for good."

Derek sighed, "First off, you are not going to be doing anything, even if I do come up with a plan. You are going to try to stay out of all this, like I told you before. Just because it left you and your friends alive last night, doesn't mean you'll be so lucky next time."

Amber took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak but he continued on.

"You can't keep coming around, alright? The hunters don't know about Scott yet, but they do know about me. If someone sees you hanging around, you're going to have more than just the Alpha to watch out for. I don't need you to be worrying about me."

Amber tore her eyes away from him to focus on the dust that covered the dark hardwood floors, "Someone should." She muttered under her breath.

"I don't need anybody to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"But that's just it, Derek. I don't think you should have to go through all of this on your own. I want to help-"

"I don't need your help," He said simply, "I need you to not get yourself killed."

Amber's face scrunched in frustration and she sighed loudly, "Well, I don't want you to-"

Derek suddenly stepped forward and pressed the palm of his hand to her lips, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her head to ensure she didn't move away. His eyes were squinted in concentration as he looked toward the front door and Amber recalled the way he'd done something similar when he'd been listening to Argent's vehicles approaching at the gas station.

Amber made a small, questioning noise and his eyes snapped back down to her. His green eyes met her hazel ones and before she could take a breath, he had wrapped an arm around her waist and had begun to drag her down the hallway, her feet barely touching the floor as they moved. When they reached a small closet beneath the staircase, he pulled open the door and shoved her to crouch inside.

"Listen. I mean it- Do not say a word, d'you understand? I don't care what you hear or see, you stay put and you stay quiet."

"Der-" She squeaked nervously.

"Not a sound." He told her, quickly shutting the slatted closet door and moving back a few steps further into the house.

The small storage closet wasn't much of a hiding space. There was a ten inch hole in the wall to her left that gave her a decent view through to the living room and the door was shutters instead of solid wood.

Amber leaned as far away from the hole as she could in an attempt to hide herself from view, peering through the slats to see what Derek was doing only to find that he seemed to have disappeared.

Amber had only just placed one of her hands on the wall to maintain balance in her crouched position when the front door to the house burst open with a crash. She flinched hard at the loud sound of the shattering wood but managed to hold back any noise of her own as two men and a woman entered the house. One of the men held a large black gun in both hands, turning with it slowly as if ready to open fire at any moment.

"No one home?" The man with the gun asked, shuffling around as he looked around the house.

"Oh, he's here," The woman grinned playfully, "He's just not feeling particularly hospitable."

"Maybe he's out," The second man started. Amber thought he looked more like a nineties boyband reject when compared to the dangerous aura the other two held, "Burying a bone in the backyard."

"Really?" The woman asked him in disappointment, "A dog joke? We're going there and that's the best you've got?" The three moved a bit deeper inside the house as she continued, "If you wanna provoke him, say something like, 'Too bad your sister bit it before she had her first litter,'" She smiled and raised her voice, "'Too bad she howled like a bitch when we cut her in half!'"

Amber raised a hand to covered her mouth and muffle a gasp. She heard Derek growl loudly from the other side of the house, followed by a scream that had to have come from the boybander who'd been outside of her field of vision. Derek must've thrown the man to the front of the house because his body landed in the front hall with a loud thump.

She watched as Derek jumped up and swung from the doorway, hitting the man with the gun in the chest with a hard kick that sent him flying to the back of the living room. Derek rose to his feet and snarled at the woman standing in the center of the room. He charged at her and the woman pulled a baton from her back pocket, whipping it out and extending its length with an electrified zapping noise. She thrust it into Derek's naked side as soon as he was close enough and Amber watched in horror as he dropped to the floor in pain.

Derek writhed on the ground, rolling onto his side and releasing small noises of discomfort. Amber bit her lip to the point of pain, her jaw trembling as she was forced to watch Derek's body tense and twitch from the shock of electricity.

"Wow," The woman stated, stepping closer and circling Derek on the floor as she examined him, "This one grew up in all the right places." The woman watched with a smile as Derek recouperated slightly and got his hands underneath him, "I don't know whether to kill it, or lick it."

Amber's heart clenched in both fury at the women's words, and pity as Derek weakly dragged himself along the dusty floor in an attempt to put distance between himself and the woman standing above him. The electric baton zapped threateningly at his back a couple of times as the woman followed behind him with a smile.

Derek tried to pull himself up with the help of the sofa in the corner of the room and the woman shocked him again with a jab to the stomach. Derek flew back several feet from the jolt and his body twitched, muscles tightening with the after effects.

Amber pressed her hand tighter to her mouth to stifle a sound and her eyes welled up with tears as the woman laughed joyfully at Derek.

"Ah, nine hundred thousand volts," The woman grinned, examining the baton in her hand, "You never were good with electricity, were you? Or fire." She laughed again.

Amber took a quiet trembling breath and she watched through the blur of her tears as Derek slowly pulled himself away again, his legs dragging behind him limply.

"-Which is why I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. And, well, maybe we can help each other out." The woman sat on the end of the sofa and looked down at Derek as he took a shaky breath and continued to crawl across the floor, "Yes, your sister was severed into pieces and used as bait to try and catch you.. Unpleasant." She tutted, "And, frankly, a little too Texas Chainsaw Massacre for my taste, but quite true." She laughed again, "Now, here's the part that might really kick you in your balls — We didn't kill her."

Derek finally pulled himself up into a seated position at the end of the room and leaned against the wall. He glared up at the woman as the muscles in his body continued to tremble.

"You think I'm lying?" The woman asked, her eyes wide in faux surprise.

"Wouldn't be the first time." Derek choked out as his body shook.

"Sweetie," The woman said the word mockingly, coming to stand at the end of the room and crouching down in front of him, "Well, why don't you just listen to my heart and tell me if I am, okay?" She leaned into his space until she could speak directly into his ear, "We. Didn't. Kill. Your. Sister.. D'you hear that? No little blips or upticks. Just the steady beat of the cold hard truth."

Amber took another large shaky breath in through her nose, the exhale puffing out over the backs of her fingers where they covered her mouth. Her calves and thighs were beginning to ache from crouching in the cramped broom closet for so long and the resigned look on Derek's face made her chest feel tight.

The woman's lips spread into an eerie grin as she rose to stand above Derek, "They found bite marks on your sister's body, Derek. What d'you think did that? A mountain lion?" She laughed, "Why aren't we helping each other out? You might as well admit what you've been guessing all along which is; The Alpha killed your sister." She stated unsympathetically with a tilt of her head, "All you have to do is tell me who he is and we'll take care of it for you. Problem solved. Everybody goes home happy."

The woman paused with a smile, as if waiting for a response. Derek took slow even breaths but didn't respond to her, his eyes cast down to the dusty floor.

"Unless.." The woman said with a look of surprise, "You don't know who he is either." She chuckled in astonishment, shaking her head, "Wow. Guess who just became totally useless?"

As quickly as the question left her mouth, the woman pulled out a large gun that Amber hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Derek rolled to the side and dashed out of the way just as the woman pulled the trigger, releasing a rapid-fire stream of bullets.

Amber muffled a frightened noise with the hand over her mouth and Derek ran through the front door and out of the house, avoiding the area near the hall closet to protect the girl from getting caught in the line of fire.

The moment that Derek was gone, the woman sighed woefully and dropped the gun to her side. She made her way over to the men she'd brought with her, giving each of them a swift kick and ordered them to get up. Both men groaned in pain but did as she instructed, pulling themselves to their feet slowly.

"Well, that was a bust." The woman said in disappointment.

"What if Chris finds out we disobeyed him and came here?" One of the men asked, brushing himself off as the group slowly made their way to the front door.

"He won't." The woman told them, "And besides, we didn't kill him. Just.. Played with him a little."

Amber leaned toward the hole in the wall to watch them leave and waited, taking slow shaky breaths. She counted to three hundred before easing open the closet door and cautiously stepping out. Her hands trembled as she took careful steps toward the front door and when she reached the open doorway, she looked around the property warily, checking to be sure they were truly gone.

Both hearing and seeing nothing, she let out an anxious breath she'd been holding.

It was entirely possible that Derek had been on to something when he told her it was dangerous for her to keep coming around.

It didn't mean that she planned to listen to him — Just, it was possible that he wasn't totally incorrect.

"Hey, it's me again-" Amber said into her phone after going straight to Stiles' voicemail for the third time, "Look, I don't know if you're ignoring me because you're mad that I ditched you earlier or if you're on another call or what. Just-" Amber sighed, flopping down onto her bed, "I don't know if Scott's talked to you but I still can't get a hold of him. So, anyway, I'm going to go to the parent-teacher thing with Jason. Gonna see if I can talk to him there." She told Stiles through the tiny speaker, "Right. Just, call me or text me when you get this. Bye."

There was a sudden loud knocking and Amber flinched in surprise as her bedroom door was pushed open, sitting up in bed to find her brother standing in the doorway.

"Hey, you about ready to head out?" He asked her.

"Yeah, let me just grab a sweatshirt." She told him, walking over to the closet and pulling out a large gray hoodie that had almost definitely belonged to Stiles at some point.

"You know you don't even have to go to this thing, right? Your grades are really good." Jason pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Amber pulled the zip-up sweatshirt on over her tank top and brushed past him to head downstairs, "I know. But Scott has to go. I wanna talk to him about something and he's not answering his phone."

"Alright," Jason conceded as they reached the front door, "But I guess if you're coming with, I might as well show you now-"

"Show me what?" Amber asked in confusion, following him outside.

Instead of heading toward the old pickup truck that was parked on the side of the driveway, he led her to the closed garage door. Amber's heart thumped nervously in anticipation as she watched her brother pull open the large rolling door. When the garage door went up and out of the way, it revealed an absolutely hideous AMC Pacer — nearly identical to the one their dad had purchased in the seventies and had still owned when the two of them were kids. It was a ridiculous sunshine yellow and the metal was lightly rusted at the bottom and it looked so much like the one that their dad had driven them around in for the first several years of her life.

"Oh, my god." Amber finally choked out.

Her eyes welled with tears at the memories that cropped up of their dad picking them up from school. The memories of their mom complaining loudly about how much she hated the ugly car and the way things were always falling out of the backseat because, for some reason, the passenger door was built different from the one on the driver's side. The memories of Jason sitting in the back beside her and reading a comic book, flipping it around as he finished each page to show his sister his favorite parts.

Amber took a shaky breath, "It looks just like dad's."

"It is dad's," Jason revealed, stepping up behind her and putting a hand on the back of her head, "Or, it was. He sold it to that older couple over on Beacon Lake, remember?" When she nodded weakly he continued, "Well, turns out they're both eighty now and the husband finally lost his license. He sold it back to me for almost nothing."

"You bought dad's car back?" Amber finally pulled her eyes away from the vehicle and turned to face her brother.

"Yeah, bud. It's yours, if you want it."

"I want it," She said quickly, her head snapped back and forth between Jason and the car, "I want it. Oh my god."

Her brother laughed, pulling a small keychain out of his pocket and handing it to her, "It's yours."

She took the keys with wide eyes, her hands shaking as she gripped them tight.

"It's manual, though. So, you're gonna need to practice driving stick shift." He warned her.

"Stiles tried to teach me in the Jeep once," She told him, "I did okay, I think."

"Alright, well, why don't you drive us to the school and we'll see how good of a teacher your friend Stiles is." Jason grinned, walking to the driver's side door and holding it open for her.

Amber bit down on her lip and made a small excited noise, ducking into the car and onto the stained tan seat, sliding behind the wheel. Her fingertips traced over everything she could see; the ancient radio knobs, the cigarette lighter, the gear shift behind the steering wheel, the speedometer that only reached ninety miles an hour.

She was going to drive her car to the parent-teacher conferences, track down Scott, and figure everything out.

When Amber finally located Ms. McCall outside of the school, the woman was standing by herself, watching the parking lot like a hawk, and Amber deflated slightly as she approached.

"No Scott yet?" Amber asked.

"Have you talked to him?" Ms. McCall asked immediately, checking the phone in her hand as if it might've gone off without her noticing, "I should be in there already but I can't get a hold of him."

Amber attempted a reassuring smile, "I'm sure he'll be here any minute. I'll wait for him out here and I'll send him in the second I see him." She promised.

Scott's mom looked like she wanted to argue, but then she watched the last of the other parents trickle into the school and sighed, "Okay. But, send him straight in. I mean it, Amber."

"I'll send him straight in," Amber promised, "I'll even give him a kick in the ass for being late."

Ms. McCall cracked a smile before agreeing and heading inside as the doors were closing behind the final group of adults.

Amber sat down on the stairs outside the building, bouncing her knee impatiently as she waited for Scott to show up. She sat restlessly, fiddling with the strings on her hoodie and shaking her leg in anticipation. She waited for over an hour, eventually turning sideways to lean back against the cement that held the guard rail.

As more time passed, she began to lose hope. Her stomach dropped sadly when she heard the school doors creak open again after nearly two hours. Parents filed back out of the building and at the front of the pack, she spotted Mr. Argent and a woman she figured had to be Allison's mom.

"Allison. Answering your cell phone will make discussing the terms of your grounding much easier." Amber heard Allison's dad say angrily into his phone, "Well, call me back before your punishment reaches Biblical proportions."

"Kate hasn't heard from her either," Mrs. Argent told him worriedly as they descended the stairs.

Amber scrambled to her feet as the couple reached where she was and winced at the chill in her backside from sitting on the cold ground for so long, sighing at the realization that Scott was still with Allison.

Ms. McCall put a hand on Amber's shoulder as she passed and the woman went to stand in front of the Argents at the bottom of the staircase, "Excuse me, you're not Allison's parents, are you?" She asked, "I'm Scott's mom, and I hate to say it, but he's not answering his phone either."

"You're his mother?" Chris Argent said judgmentally.

Amber took a defensive step forward to stand beside Ms. McCall but the woman responded before she could cut in, "Funny, how you say that like it's an accusation."

"Well, I wouldn't claim it as a source of pride since he basically kidnapped my daughter today." He said gruffly.

"Hey-" Amber said in anger, quieting when Mrs. McCall put a hand on her shoulder.

"How do we know skipping school wasn't your daughter's idea?" She asked defensively.

Mr. Argent glared, "My daughter-" He started loudly, cutting off as he caught sight of something behind them and sighing, "-Is right there."

Ms. McCall immediately turned and rushed toward the parking lot. Amber caught sight of her brother exiting the school and she held up a hand in signal for him to give her a minute, when he nodded and pulled out his phone, she turned to follow behind Scott's mom with wide eyes.

"Where exactly have you been?" Amber heard Ms. McCall yell as the girl approached the group.

"Nowhere, mom." Scott responded quietly.

"Nowhere meaning, 'not at school,'" His mom clarified angrily.

"I- Kinda." He told her.

"It's not his fault," Allison defended, "It's my birthday and we were-"

The girl was cut off when her dad reached them and pointed sternly to the back of the parking lot, "Allison. In the car."

Suddenly, there was a shrill scream from the other side of the parking lot and Amber's stomach dropped, immediately looking at Scott with wide eyes. He met her gaze with a matching expression of uneasiness.

People quickly began yelling and rushing around the parking lot, proceeding to get more frantic as the seconds passed. No one was sure what was happening, but fear spurred them on and people rushed to their cars, some tearing out of the parking lot quickly to get away from an unseen threat.

Scott began to wander away from the group and Amber followed behind him with a hand gripping his jacket, "Is the Alpha here?" She asked quietly.

"I don't know." He told her, tilting his head as he listened through the chaos around them.

Another scream sounded out loudly above the murmuring shouts and Amber flinched, releasing Scott from her hold. When she heard her name being called, she spotted Jason standing at their yellow car on the other side of the lot and he waved to her urgently but she held up her hand again, pleading with him to give her another minute.

There was a growl in the distance and Amber flinched again at the sound, though it didn't resemble the one she remembered from the night before. In the mayhem, she realized that she'd lost Scott, her friend no longer beside her, and she wandered forward, eyes alert as she searched for him.

"Allison!" Amber heard him yell from several yards away.

Amber rose onto her toes to watch as Scott pulled Allison out of the way of a car that was barreling through the parking lot, managing to save her only a second before she would have been hit.

Amber's heart thumped painfully beneath her ribs with adrenaline and the yelling around her only seemed to get louder with each second that passed.

There was another animalistic growl, louder this time, closer, and Amber gasped and spun around as she heard whatever it was dash past where she was standing between two parked cars. When she looked up, she spotted Sheriff Stilinski standing just to the other side of the vehicle beside her.

"Move!" He yelled at the group that was forming around the parked cars as he went to head in the direction the animal had gone.

Amber ran forward in time with her friend's father. As they reached the back of the car, she noticed the tail lights come on and her eyes went wide, reaching out toward Stiles' dad and giving him a small shove just as the car tore out of the spot in reverse and backed into her. She was slammed back several feet and down onto the pavement but the car managed to come to a stop before it could run her over entirely.

"Amber!" Mr. Stilinski yelled worriedly, "What were you thinking, kid? You okay?"

There was another loud growl in the distance and Amber's heart beat loudly in her ears while Stiles' dad grabbed her with one hand in hers and another on her waist as he pulled her to her feet.

Her elbow hurt from the fall and her left hip throbbed painfully where the car had rammed into her, but she didn't feel any serious injuries, "I-I'm fine." She told him breathlessly.

The man's eyes flicked back and forth between her hazel ones before he nodded and stepped back, looking around them at the ever growing chaos. Amber watched him reach down toward his shoe and pull a small gun from a holster he had hidden beneath his jeans at his ankle.

Just as quickly as he'd pulled out his weapon, there were two loud echoing gunshots from the other side of the parking lot. Mr. Stilinski covered Amber's head with his hand and pushed her down for cover as the girl let out a quiet yelp in fear.

A few moments later, Jason sprinted up to them and pulled Amber toward him. When his hand pushed on her hip she cried out at the tender spot and his eyes widened further, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I-"

"She got hit by a car." Mr. Stilinski told him over her head.

"What!" Jason asked frantically, "We should go to the hospital-"

"We don't need to go to the hospital. They just bumped me, I'm fine." She assured both men, looking between them, "I'm probably getting a bruise already, but I'm fine." She focussed on Jason, "But the gunshots- What-"

"The mountain lion," Jason told her, "It was wandering around the parking lot and someone shot it."

"I- A mountain lion?" She asked in surprise.

"Yeah," He said, "Probably the same one that killed that guy and scared you last night."

Amber looked between the men, seeing the relief on her brother but a look of confused disbelief on Mr. Stilinski that she was sure matched her own. Before she could say anything else, Jason thanked Stiles' dad for his help and pulled her under the safety of his arm, guiding her back toward the car.

"I feel like this should go without saying, but I don't think you should drive the car for a couple days," Her brother told her as they reached the yellow vehicle, directing her toward the passenger side with a gentle push.

Amber sighed but nodded, wincing when she bumped her sore elbow as she climbed into the car.

As her brother drove them home, she couldn't help but think how unlikely a coincidence it was for a mountain lion to wander into town and get killed while the Alpha remained conveniently out of sight.

Amber clicked Stiles' contact to call him the second she closed her bedroom door. She propped the phone in the crook between her shoulder and her ear as she attempted to peel off her tight jeans painfully. She was pulling on a tiny pair of shorts that had a loose waistband as he picked up.

"Amber, hey!" Stiles said casually, "Sorry I didn't get your calls earlier, I was trying to get a hold of Scott."

He sounded normal, which meant his father most likely hadn't gotten home to talk to him yet. Amber sighed as she sat at her desk and pulled out the Algebra II homework she'd yet to start.

"Don't worry about it." She paused, gnawing on her lower lip.

"So, did you talk to Scott at the parent-teacher thingy?" Stiles asked her after a moment.

"Uh, yeah, kind of," She said, "We, uh, didn't really get much of a chance to talk before all hell broke loose though."

"Hell? What hell?" Stiles asked, "What happened?"

"Mountain lion." She told him, "An actual mountain lion this time. It just showed up in the parking lot and everyone was screaming and panicking and it was... Insane."

Stiles seemed to have too much he wanted to say, releasing a series of small aborted noises on the other line before he spoke, "Wh- Well, what happened?"

"Well, everyone was running around terrified. It was just stalking between cars and growling and then your dad almost got hit by a car-" Stiles released a horrified noise and she continued quickly, "He didn't get hit." She reassured him before adding in a quiet voice, "I did."

"What! Amber I sw-"

"I'm fine!" She said for what felt like the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours, "Apparently Chris Argent shot the mountain lion, and after that everyone kind of calmed down and we all went home."

"Okay, we can circle back to the mountain lion- You got run over by a car?" Stiles asked her frantically.

"I was not 'run over' by a car," She said with an eye roll, "I was clipped. Tapped. Grazed, if you will."

"You were grazed by a car?" Stiles repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes. I was." Amber confirmed.

"And where the hell was Scott when you were being grazed by said car?" Stiles asked in annoyance.

"He was on the other side of the parking lot. He barely pulled Allison out of the path of another car- I told you, everyone was panicking." Amber explained before sighing, "Anyway, I have a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning so I might miss the beginning of English- I'm not sure yet. I'm hoping it won't take long."

Stiles groaned, "A doctor's appointment? I thought you were only tapped?"

"I was tapped!" She defended, "I couldn't talk Jason out of it though. It was like, his one stipulation for allowing me to go to school tomorrow at all."

She heard Stiles sigh as she mindlessly solved a problem to find the vertical asymptotes of the function in her textbook. When she finished solving the equation and Stiles still hadn't responded, she set down her pencil.

"Look, as much as I appreciate your concern for my well-being, I have like twelve more problems to finish before my Algebra Two homework is done." She told him, "I'm gonna shut my phone off for the night, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"I- Yeah, alright." He agreed reluctantly, "Talk to you tomorrow."

"G'night." She smiled down the phone.

"Night."

The call ended and she powered her phone down with a sigh, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes for a moment. There was a quiet noise behind her and she spun in her chair and jerked, nearly falling out of her seat.

"Jesus- Derek!" She exclaimed as she caught herself on the edge of her desk, "What are you doing here?"

Derek was in her bedroom, casually resting against her windowsill like it was a bench. He had put on clothes since she'd seen him that afternoon and he now wore a dark tshirt beneath his leather jacket.

"Well, I came to make sure you were alright after this afternoon. But from what I just heard, Kate wasn't the only one I needed to worry about almost killing you today." He said, raising his eyebrows at the red splotchy skin that poked out from the places where her tank top had ridden up and beneath her tiny shorts.

"It was an accident." She told him defensively, pulling her shirt down over her hip.

"I heard you tell Stiles you were hit by a car at the school." Derek reminded her.

"Grazed," Amber repeated, "I was grazed by a car. And I'm fine."

Derek shook his head at her and seemed to reluctantly drop the subject. He stood from the windowsill and stepped over to her desk, studying the bulletin board hanging above it and eyeing the many photographs of Scott, Stiles, and herself. He looked at them in silence for a minute before he pursed his lips.

"I also wanted to let you know I'm going to try to train Scott." Derek said before turning to face her.

"Really?" She asked excitedly, "Finally! That's great-"

"Try." Derek repeated, "I'm going to try. I don't know if I even can train a bitten werewolf."

Amber nodded, "As long as you both give each other a chance."

Derek nodded, turning toward the window and making to leave again.

"Wait-" Amber called quietly. Derek had one leg out the window and he turned to face her, "Are you okay?" She asked him, "After earlier. That woman-"

"Kate." Derek told her, "Kate Argent. She's Allison's aunt."

"Kate," Amber repeated, "She- She electrocuted you or tased you or something. And the things she said-"

"I'm fine, Amber." Derek said, "I already told you- I don't need you to worry about me."

"That's not going to stop me from doing it." She murmured softly, "I'm pretty sure I'm going to worry about you, regardless."

Derek seemed slightly stunned, still hovering half inside the window. It took him a moment, but he seemed to recover with a small shake of his head, "Just.. Be safe." He told her.

He ducked his head around the open window to leave and jumped to the ground, landing silently in the grass beneath Amber's window.

"You too." She mumbled to the empty windowsill after a few seconds.

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