#Dylan obrien x ofc

[oh-obrien]

Brother’s Best Friend

Relationships: Dylan O’Brien x Original Female Character

Word Count: 7,214

Warnings: Underage Drinking, uhhh making out

Author’s Note: Hey y’all I’m very excited to post this one. Sorry it took longer than expected because mono is currently kicking my ass!

Emerson finished brushing her hair out after she had showered, grateful to have washed off the layer of sweat that had built up on her body after her afternoon run. She set her brush down before turning sideways so she could see herself better in the mirror. She sighed and pulled the legs of her Nike Pros down a little bit more before flattening out the waistband so it sat right under her bellybutton. She huffed before pulling on a long sleeve ‘Texas Softball’ shit and tucking the extra into her shorts. 

Jake, Emerson’s older brother, had insisted that Dylan said it tonight would just be a casual get together, she should be fine. She looked over her outfit once more before pulling on her fuzzy socks and grabbing her phone before she flicked off the guest bathroom light. She picked her water bottle up off the dresser in the guest bathroom as she passed before making her way downstairs. She heard music coming from the speakers in the kitchen and knew that’s where she would find her brother and his best friend.

She rounded the corner into the large kitchen and saw Jake slipping something into the oven while Dylan dug in the fridge for something. She watched the muscles in his shoulders ripple as he reached up to the top shelf to grab a glass bottle of minced garlic. His hair still slightly damp from his own post-run shower. Oh fuck here we go, she thought to herself. “What can I help with?” Emerson asked leaning on the counter. 

Dylan turned around and Emerson had to force herself to not look down at his abs before he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, obviously thinking. “Umm, Jake is finishing the mac and cheese bites, he needs to bake them and I just need to finish the mini garlic knots, if you wanted to help with that.” He set the glass bottle down on the counter before grabbing the melted butter out of the microwave. 

“Sounds good,” Emerson nodded, looking at the center counter that had already been filled with plates of finger foods. “You two didn’t want to just cater this?” She asked the two boys. 

Jake stood up after slipping the mac and cheese bites into the oven. “We don’t usually cater this kind of thing, whoever is hosting usually cooks. Everyone brings drinks over and we just kind of vibe.” He shrugged. 

“Sounds fun,” Emerson watched as Dylan mixed the garlic butter and handed her a brush that looked almost like a paint brush. 

“Just brush the garlic butter over them while I pull some stuff out of the oven and we should be just about done after that,” he stretched his back out. Emerson tried to focus on the mini dough balls in front of her so she wouldn’t have to look at Dylan. “Jake said you were fine being around the alcohol, but I just wanted to make sure you didn’t care?” He asked her.

Emerson mentally rolled her eyes before nodding. Sometimes she forgot she was still four years younger than Jake and most of his friends, and she also forgot that she wasn’t of legal drinking age yet. “Yeah it’s fine with me, as long as you don’t care if I snag a couple drinks,” she tried to sound casual about it. 

She didn’t want to be the ‘best friend's little sister’ anymore. She had turned eighteen, which was still four years younger than Jake and Dylan, but she wasn’t a little kid anymore. “Damn Jake,” Dylan looked to his roommate, “didn’t tell me she drank, and she’s not even twenty-one.” He fake gasped and covered his mouth with his hand, his mouth forming an ‘o’. 

“And I bet I can hold my alcohol better than you can O’Brien,” Emerson rolled her eyes while she picked up the tray of mini garlic knots. “Can one of you idiots open the oven for me?” Dylan nodded and grabbed the oven handle, slowly pulling it open and stepping back so Emerson could slide the pan in. 

After she slid the pan in she turned away from Dylan, who bent over to close the oven. She found him attractive, she wouldn’t be a creep who would stare at him and oogle him the six entire six weeks she would be staying with him and her brother in Los Angeles. Emerson had just graduated high school and had wanted to spend her summer before college, and her last summer when she wouldn’t be completely tied down by D1 athletics, somewhere other than her hometown.

Jake had offered for Emerson to fly out to California to stay with Dylan and himself for the six weeks before she needed to move into her dorm. Jake had moved to California four summers earlier to play college baseball at UCLA and upon graduating he signed with the Los Angeles Dodgers. With Dylan no longer living with his co-stars from Teen Wolf, and with Jake also needing to get more of a permanent place out in Los Angeles, the childhood friends decided that they could share a large Bachelor Pad in the city. 

Emerson had grown up with the boys and knew their energy had often been unhinged and hard to control, so when she pulled up to the boy’s home and walked in to see it nearly spotless, except for a few pairs of shoes strewn about the entrance way, she had been shocked to say the least. She had also forgotten the crush she had on Dylan years ago, and with never having had a relationship, she would be pining after him again, much to her misfortune. 

Dylan had greeted her in the living room with bed-head and a pair of gray sweats hung low on his hips. He had a five o’clock shadow and had clearly just woken up when he offered her a warm hug. He mumbled something about how much she had grown up since he’d last seen her before wandering into the kitchen to make his morning coffee. Emerson had also noticed how much more Dylan had grown up, he now had a six pack, accompanied by a dark happy trail and was now clearly able to actually grow facial hair, something he complained about not being able to do when he had been younger. 

Sighing, Emerson pushed herself up on to the kitchen counter and watched as her brother took inventory of what alcohol they had in the fridge and cabinets. “Tyler said he would bring other stuff right?” Jake asked closing the bottom drawer of the fridge after pulling out two beers. “You still drink hard lemonade right?” He turned to Emerson.

“Yeah T-Pose is bringing a bunch of shit. Holland is bringing wine I think,” Dylan fake gagged. “Also hard lemonade?” He asked Emerson. She shrugged as her brother handed her a can, opening the pop tab on top and taking a sip before speaking.

“I’m a craft beer snob, as all my high school friends called it,” she set her can next to her on the counter. “We have the summer house out on the east end, Long Island is basically the craft beer capital.” Emerson had gotten used to drinking all the expensive craft beers her junior and senior year when her parents would let her and her friends use the east end house. Now she wasn’t able to drink any of the big brand names because they tasted absolutely disgusting in her opinion.  

Dylan leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, defining the muscles in his arms more and his abs peeing out from underneath. “That summer house was always a blast man,” he looked over to Jake. “I miss that kind of shit.”

“I miss it too man, trust me,” Jake took a long sip of his drink. “We’re out here now though, it’s still pretty fun, it’s like high school again but this time we can buy the drinks ourselves.” Jake laughed, pulling the last of the food out of the oven and setting it on the counter.

“That part I can drink to,” Dylan tilted his beer towards Jake before taking a long sip of it. Emerson let herself watch as the golden liquid drained from the bottle and also noticed how  Dylan’s adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He pulled his phone out of the pockets of his sweats and set his bottle down, quickly replying to a message before slipping it into his pocket again. “I’m going to throw on real pants and a shirt, Tyler will be here in a few minutes so if there’s a knock it’s him.”

Emerson watched as Dylan walked out of the room, his feet dragging on the tiled floor while he rounded the corner to exit the kitchen and his footsteps being heard while he made his way up the stairs. “You’re back on this trend?” Jake asked when his little sister looked back over to him. 

“I guess so,” she lifted up her glasses to run a hand over her face. “Fucking sucks,” she mumbled. Of course Emerson had tried to date in high school, she had been one of the top ranked softball players in the state, there had been a period of time where guys were basically tripping over their own feet to have a chance with her. 

“That football player you went to prom with didn’t work out?” He asked his little sister, leaning on the counter opposite her. Emerson forgot she hadn’t really been able to update her older brother on her life much since she had seen him at his graduation nearly a month earlier. Sure, they texted and called each other from time to time, but Jake had been extremely busy now that he had officially signed into the major leagues. 

Emerson took a sip of her hard lemonade to distract herself before drumming on the can with her fingers. “No,” she shrugged, “he got back with his ex that night actually.” She watched as Jake’s gaze softened. Emerson had really liked Alex, she had a crush on him since sophomore year, and when he had asked her to prom at her senior night game, it had been a dream come true. However, the night of prom Alex decided to go to the prom house his ex had been invited too instead of the house on the shore Emerson and her other friends had rented. Looking back Emerson now felt more than happy she didn’t remember a majority of that night, as awful as that sounds.

“Well,” Jake let out a long breath, “can’t believe I’m about to say this. Dylan’s a good guy, he’s single too,” Jake laughed at himself, not believing that he just told his little sister he felt perfectly fine with her being interested in his best friend and roommate. “He’s been looking around but nothing’s worked out. I can’t say I’d be unhappy if you two happened.” Giving her brother a confused glance Emerson didn’t respond for a couple minutes. Trying to think of an answer that would be okay to give her older brother. 

She slid her glasses back on and pointed to Jake, “so you're telling me,” she pointed to herself, “that you would be perfectly okay with me getting with your childhood best friend and roommate? Sounds kind of convoluted if you want my opinion.” She paused when she heard a knock on the door. “But I’m not complaining!” She called after her brother.

“Not complaining about what?”Dylan asked, as he walked back into the kitchen. He had changed into a pair of dark jeans and a Mets t-shirt. Emerson quickly whipped her head around before trying to think of a witty response.

“About how bad you smell,” she shrugged before watching her brother walk into the kitchen, another guy around his and Dylan’s age trailing in behind him, both boys carrying a twelve pack of beer. “More shit beer? Jesus Jake, did you learn nothing living at home for the first eighteen years of your life?” She saw the other guy, Tyler, look at her with slight shock. “Sorry if that offended you, just want to offend my brother.”

Tyler set his case down on the counter, laughing. “She’s cool, she can stay,” he told Jake and Dylan. “I’m Tyler,” he held his hand out for Emerson to shake. 

“Emerson,” she shook his hand from her place on the counter. After their short introduction, Tyler walked over to the fridge to grab a cold beer and helped put the other two cases away to chill. Emerson watched the three boys move around each other while they pulled out plates, shot glasses and kitchen utensils from different drawers and cabinets, clearly having done it before. 

Dylan paused to steal a mozzarella stick off the plate on the counter, “did you know when the other hooligans are coming?” He asked around his mouthful of food. 

“Uhh, the girls said in the group chat they were coming together around six and I’m sure Hoechlin will be here a little earlier,” Tyler replied. “Sprayberry and Cody will probably be a little late, like they usually are. You fill her in?” Tyler nodded to Emerson.

Dylan looked at Emerson who just shrugged before he nodded, “she knew my castmates were coming over.” He leaned on to the counter next to where Emerson sat and picked up her lemonade, taking a sip before she could grab it from him. “That’s actually not bad. When Jake picked them up the other day I had been kind of confused at first.”

Emerson pulled her sleeve down to wipe at the lip of the can before she took another drink. “Confused as to why he was getting hard lemonade or confused as to why he was getting me hard lemonade?” She asked with a slight quirk in her lips. “Because it is my go to if I’m being honest.”

Dylan grabbed the can out of her hand and took another sip, letting the alcoholic lemonade sit in his mouth a little longer this time, “I could actually really get behind this.” He held it up to his lips again and Emerson hit his shoulder trying to get him to give it back. “You’re not legal, it’s mine now,” he held it closer. 

“Jake!” Emerson yelled her brother’s name, pulling him out of the conversation he had been in the middle of with Tyler. “Make him give it back!” Jake looked down to where Dylan had her drink in his hand and waved his little sister off. 

Tyler laughed watching Emerson glare between her brother and Dylan, “they always like this?” He asked eyeing the two who were arguing over the can still. “Because you know what I’m about to say right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Jake took a long sip of his beer. “They’ve always been like this with each other, and she’s into him which makes it even worse.” He watched as Emerson gave up and pushed herself off the counter, walking over to the counter island to grab a mac and cheese bite.

Tyler watched Dyaln’s eyes follow Emerson as she moved around the kitchen, refilling her water bottle instead of grabbing a drink. “I mean, I know him pretty well too man,” Tyler grabbed one of the mini garlic knots and dunked it into the bowl of marinara sauce. “He seems at least a little bit interested in her himself. Might just be the age thing he has to get over.”

Emerson had just finished filling up her water bottle when she heard another knock on the door, knowing more of Dylan and Tyler’s friends had arrived. “I got it!” Dylan set the empty hard lemonade can down on the counter while he went to answer the door. 

“Wanna help move some if this?” Jake asked Emerson who watched as he and Tyler picked up plates of food. She nodded and grabbed two plates of the finger foods and followed the two boys outside on to the covered patio. “We’ll usually chill out here,” he added. 

Trailing behind the pair as she walked back inside, she saw Dylan in the kitchen laughing with three other girls and felt her heart sink a little bit. His eyes crinkled at the corners while he spoke and the girls around him were also laughing as they set wine and desserts down on the counter. “Emmy!” Dylan called out to Emerson.

“I- fuck,” she sighed walking over ot him, “I hate that I let you call me that,” she glared at him before looking at the three girls. “Hi, I’m Emerson. He’s called me Emmy since I’ve been like twom don’t mind him,” she gave them a smile.

The redhead stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, “I’m Holland and this is Shelly and Arden. You’re Jake’s younger sister right?” She double checked. Emerson nodded as she hugged the other two. 

“And you’ve known Dylan for how long?” Arden asked. 

Emerson laughed in the back of her throat, “since before I was born. Him and my brother have been friends since they were three. Dylan actually came to the baby shower my mom had for me and him and my brother dropped the cake,” she smirked at Dylan who had started to turn red. 

“Wait, I didn’t know that one,” Tyler interrupted as he also greeted the three girls. “Is that true?” He asked Dylan who just nodded in reaction, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in when he heard another knock on the door. 

He walked past Emerson and bumped into her shoulder when he passed, “brat,” he mumbled so only she could hear it. 

“Asshole,” she replied at the same volume and snorted when she saw Dylan flip her off behind his back while he walked to the entryway. She suddenly realized how many people were staring to fill up the kitchen and swallowed the spit that had been sitting in her mouth for far too long. “I’m going to go outside for a few minutes,” she told Jake who asked if she felt okay by just raising his eyebrows. “You know how I get,” she grabbed her water bottle before slipping out into the backyard. 

She felt lucky to be in the position she currently found herself in, but sometimes too many new people too fast got her overwhelmed. She’d always been that way though. She sat down on one of the patio chairs and watched the water in the pool ripple from the filter running, picking at her cuticles that were already torn up. A few minutes later the door opened and she felt someone sit on the chair next to her. 

“You still get like this sometimes?” Dylan asked her, moving his chair a little closer to her now that she knew it had been him who came outside. 

Emerson shrugged, “it happens, happened at all my college visits, happened at states, it’s normal.” She spoke the truth, her anxiety got to be a bit much sometimes and she knew when she needed to pull away for a few minutes. 

“Yeah it happens,” Dylan pulled her right hand away from where she had been picking at the cuticles on her left, “doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t check on you.” Emerson went to speak but he cut her off, “and yes Jake told me you went out for a minute but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Emerson bumped her shoulder into Dylan’s before she nodded, “all good now,” she stood up and nodded towards the house. “You have some more people to introduce me to.” Dylan smiled as he stood up, running  a hand through his messy hair.

“The rest just got here,” he followed Emerson into the house and she felt her brother and Tyler’s eyes on them. So much for telling Jake she still had a crush on Dylan, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. 

Another hard lemonade that Dylan had stolen half of later, Emerson found herself outside sitting in a circle next to the fire pit in between Dylan and Shelly, who she had quickly gravitated towards. Most of the food Dylan and Jake made had been eaten and only a few desserts were left on the large glass table, but what had been left out would probably be gone within a couple of hours anyway. 

She had listened as Dylan and his castmates shared stories about set and filming and her brother seemed to fit right into the group. When asked about herself and her relationship with Dylan and her brother, Emerson had a few funny stories of her own to share that had Jake and Dylan groaning and red cheeked. “So,” Tyler Posey sat up a little straighter after the conversation had started to fade. “Anyone up for a little game, straight face, thumper?”

“Never have I ever?” Cody suggested and it had been met with a few hums and nods in agreement. “See I have good ideas sometimes,” Cody laughed, setting his beer down in front of himself.  Emerson shifted uncomfortably once she knew they would be playing never have I ever. It’s the one drinking game she hated playing. If she knew it would  be played at a party in high school she would often excuse herself for the game to go get fresh air or another drink. 

Emerson stood up and Dylan gave her a confused look, setting his bottle of beer down. “I’m just going to grab my water bottle and some Motrin, still a little jet lagged.” She told him. “Everyone can start without me.” She addressed the whole group.

“You’re good?” Jake just wanted to make sure his sister felt okay, but he had been flirting with one of Dylan’s castmates all night and she didn’t want to stomp on any chances he had, unsure if it h.ad been an ongoing thing or not. Emerson nodded and waved him off while she wandered inside, flicking on the kitchen light while she tried to find her water bottle. 

She unscrewed the top and filled it with ice before opening the fridge and grabbing the pitcher of filtered water, pouring it into her bottle. She left it open on the counter while she went to find the motrin in her backpack, opening up the orange bag she found the bottle and dumped two pills into her hand. She hoped to push off the migrange she felt coming on until the morning so she could at least sleep.

Walking back down stairs, shaking the two pills in her hand, she noticed Dylan dumping leftover food into the garbage can and filling up a recycling bag with bottles and cans. “Need help?” She asked before slipping the pills into her mouth and taking a sip of her water before closing it. 

“I actually just came to see what was up with you, figured I could clean up while I waited,” he shrugged, putting a few plates in the sink. “You got out of there pretty quick.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter while Emerson slid up into the spot she had been sitting on earlier. “Your dad used to yell at you for that when you were younger.” Dylan pointed out.

Emerson reached up to run her fingers across the scar that sat on the bridge of her nose. “Then I fell off and cracked my face up,” she dropped her hand, “I think he just assumed I had learned my lesson after that.”

Dylan grimaced at the memory of her falling off the counter, he had been over for a superbowl party when that happened. “Clearly didn’t,” he laughed a little bit, “why’d you need to come inside though? Ran off a little fast just to grab a drink and motrin, and thought you said earlier you were amazing at drinking games.” 

“Okay, first off you know I get migraines,” she reminded him. “Second I like drinking games,” she emphasized the word game. “Never have I ever isn’t much of a drinking game, not really a fan.” She shrugged wishing she could curl up in a ball and disappear. She wasn’t about to spew her lack of experience in life out to Dylan, of all people. 

Dylan uncrossed his arms and braced them on the counter behind him, “okay but it’s still fun to learn about all the embarrassing and sometimes slightly illegal things your friends have done,” he knew he was currently pushing the issue. He knew how to push the issue to hear what he wanted to from Emerson, he’d been doing it for years now.

“You see, this is where it gets hard to follow Dylan,” she pointed at him motioning for him not to speak for a few minutes. “It’s not fun when you haven’t done anything normal let alone embarrassing or slightly illegal. So you just sit there twiddling your thumbs the entire time because you lack zero life experience except being related to an MLB player and you’re really good at softball,” she let out a long breath before looking down at the water bottle that sat between her legs. “So no it’s not fun,” she mumbled before looking up.

She watched as Dylan chewed on his bottom lip, probably deciding what to say while he watched her nervously fiddle with her water bottle. “Is it that you just haven’t found anyone to do that kind of thing with?” He asked her. Emerson let her legs uncross and swung them in front of herself, making a thumping noise each time they hit into the cabinet under her. 

“Umm,” she hesitated for a minute. What would he be expecting her to tell him? She currently had feelings for him? The one guy she had actually been interested in during high school got back with his ex the night he took Emerson to prom? “I mean, there had been one guy I was interested in, but he wound up getting back with his ex the night of prom.” She tried to shrug it off. 

“And there’s no one else you’re interested in?” Why did he keep pushing so hard? What would be the outcome if he eventually coaxed it out of her? 

Emerson took a moment to run through all the possible answers to the question in her head. She could just tell him, she was interested in someone, but then he would definitely continue to push the issue. “I mean, yeah there’s people I’d be interested in, but it’s unrealistic to pursue if I’m being honest.” She cleared her throat after and watched as Dylan pushed himself off the counter, moving closer to Emerson. He stopped when he stood in front of her, his knees almost brushing hers. 

Emerson looked up and noticed his five-o’clock shadow that she wanted to reach out and brush her fingers over. She wanted to know what it would feel like if she cupped his cheek in her and. What it would feel like if she kissed him. She also wanted to know what his lips would feel like on hers, if they would be soft or slightly chapped. She had kissed boys before, but none of the kisses she had turned out to be ‘good’. Dylan was older than her, more experienced, he would most likely know what to do, he’d easily be able to guide her. 

“Well,” his eyes flickered down to her lips and then back up to her eyes. His warm eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort or uneasiness, “I also know there’s people I’m interested in, but I wasn’t sure what the consequences would be if I pursued said feelings.” He moved even closer to Emerson, her legs moving so he could stand between them. 

Her breath hitched in her throat when she noticed that she could feel Dylan’s body heat radiating off of him, he felt very warm, and very close. “At- at least it’s not unrealistic,” she told him, never breaking eye contact. 

He lifted a hand to rest under her chin and his thumb ran across her bottom lip. Emerson sat stunned, she felt paralyzed, Dylan felt too close to her and he was touching her in what she classified as a very intimate way. “You tell me if this is unrealistic,” he lifted Emerson’s mouth even closer to his and she felt his breath fan across her lips, she could smell the alcohol on his breath but the sweetness of the lemonade element overpowered it. He was sober. She was sober. It was fine to kiss him. 

“I don’t think it is,” she quietly replied. 

Dylan swiped his tongue over his lips and they pulled into a slight smile. “Can I- can I kiss you?” He asked before swallowing thickly. Emerson responded by pushing up and slotting her lips against his, a long breath releasing from her nose as she finally felt slightly relaxed for the first time that night. Their lips seemed to move together much smoother than any kiss she had before, and it didn’t feel messy or rushed. 

After a few seconds Emerson pulled away to breath and Dylan rested his forehead against hers, a breathy laugh falling past his lips while they both smiled. “I cannot believe I just did that,” Emerson mumbled before laughing herself, her forehead falling to Dylan’s shoulder as they both tried to laugh any awkwardness out. 

“It wasn’t bad though right?” Dylan asked and Emerson could feel him smiling against her shoulder. “Because there’s no pressure but I’d really like to take you upstairs for a little while and try that again.”

Emerson’s eyes widened at Dylan’s words and she picked her head up, waiting for him to do the same before she spoke. “You’re serious?” She asked with slight unbelief in her voice, “because the answer is that felt fucking amazing and the answer is yes,” she had to be dreaming right now, she really had to be. Dylan pushed away from the counter and held a hand out for Emerson to take. “Thank you,” she gripped it as she slid off the counter and her feet planted on the tile floor of the kitchen. 

“My pleasure,” Dylan gave her a purposely terrible wink as he dragged her towards the staircase by her hand. Emerson followed him up the stairs, trying not to trip while they both laughed like little kids  who were trying not to get caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. Once reaching Dylan’s room he pulled Emerson inside and closed the door before pressing her against it, chest to chest, his hands on either side of her head. 

The pair caught their breath and just watched each other for a few moments, taking the situation in before Dylan dipped down and pressed his lips to Emerson’s. His hands came up to rest on his shoulders, one of his slipping down to grip her waist and pull her tighter against him. “Wait,” Emerson pulled away, “everyone’s gonna wonder where we went,” she breathed out.

“So,” Dylan pulled her away from the door and pushed her onto his bed, her letting out an ‘oof’ when her back hit the mattress. “Let them wonder,” he shrugged, crawling above her. Emerson reached up to wind her arms around his neck, her fingers running through the hair at the base of his neck. “Because I am very happy right here,” with that he leaned down to kiss Emerson again.

Emerson closed her eyes and tried to melt into the feeling of kissing Dylan. She felt as if she was on cloud nine, kissing the boy she had a crush on for well over half her life, and she didn’t want to let it slip away too fast. She took a breath through her nose when she felt Dylan’s teeth pull on her bottom lip and she pulled away from the kiss way too fast, his teeth catching on her lip as she jerked away. “I’m sorry!” She wanted to crawl under the bed and hide. “I just didn’t - I wasn’t,” bhe she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. 

“You haven’t gone that far before and you weren’t sure what to expect?” Dylan asked her as they both sat up, her legs swinging over the side of his bed. Emerson nodded and bit down on her bottom lip, not wanting to actually admit she had as little experience as she actually did. “And that is perfectly fine,” Dylan rested a hand on her thigh and started to rub circles into her skin. “I don’t see that as a problem,”

Emerson turned to face him, “and it’s fine and dandy you don’t see it as a problem, but I do! It’s embarrassing Dylan! I’m starting college and don’t even know how to properly kiss a boy when all my friends were having sex their sophmore or junior year!” She felt herself wanting to crawl under the bed more and more with every word she spoke but Dylan sat back against his head bored and pulled her with his so she straddled his lap. 

“I mean, we’re here now right?” He slipped his hands under her shirt and ran his thumbs along her hip bone sending goosebumps around her entire body. “And if you trust me enough to take the lead I can show you how this whole kissing thing works,” he pinched her side making her laugh and grab his hand, “it can be quite nice when you actually relax.” He gave her a sideways smirk.

“I-” Emerson paused, “okay, yeah. I trust you.” She nodded her head and relaxed in Dylan’s hold, waiting for him to make the first move.

He reached down to pull off her glasses and folded them closed, placing them on his nightstand. “Well first off, it’ll be a lot more comfortable without these in the way,” he smiled and leaned forward to peck her lips before he got a firmer grip on her hips and flipped her over so she again found herself underneath him.

He braced himself on his forearms above her, his stomach pressed against hers, “now just let your lips follow mine, ‘kay?” He leaned down to attach his lips to Emerson’s. 

She closed her eyes and found her left hand gripping the front of Dylan’s shirt, the right reaching around to settle in the soft hair at the back of his head. She felt his lips moving against her’s and tried to copy his movements unsure of what else to do. Dylan smiled against her lips when he picked up what she had been trying to do and decided to run his tongue against her bottom lip and gauge her reaction for where to go next. When Emerson didn’t pull away Dylan decided he could probably go a little further and allowed himself to pull away to take a breath.

“I’m sure you’ve at least heard about using tongue to kiss,” he laughed lightly when Emerson scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve heard about high school boys who don’t know how to do it right,” he told her. “I told you I’m showing you how real guys kiss, not high school scum.”

Emerson took a deep breath before she leaned forward to reconnect their lips, her teeth pulling lightly on Dylan’s bottom lip this time. “Then stop talking and show me.” She mumbled. Dylan felt a groan bubbling in the back of his throat and swallowed it, instead opting to lean forward and run his tongue over her bottom lip before he even attached their lips. 

Emerson’s mouth had opened slightly against his and took it as his opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, he felt her tense slightly but then she quickly relaxed. He wrapped his tongue around hers and pulled it slightly into his own mouth before pulling away, dragging her bottom lip between his teeth as he did. He kissed the corner of her slightly swollen lips, and rested his forehead against hers. He felt himself start to grow uncomfortable in his jeans but pushed the feeling away, this needed to be about him making Emerson comfortable, not about him getting off. 

“Damn,” Emerson laughed as she felt Dylan’s slightly heavier breathing fan across her lips. “You’re pretty good at this.” She let her hand that had been gripping the front of his shirt slip underneath it, running up and down his abs. 

Dylan shivered before offering her a smile back, “not too bad yourself,” he threw her another terrible wink. “Gets even better though,” he added, “could show you that too if you were still up for it.” Emerson nodded when she heard everyone outside still laughing and talking slighter louder than they needed too, their voices drifting through Dylan’s cracked window. 

“I mean, sounds pretty good to me,” she hummed, “I just feel bad, I’m not like doing anything for you.” She watched as Dylan’s gaze softened. 

He reached up to cup her jaw with his left hand, just his right hand holding him up now. “Trust me,” he leaned down to peck her lips, “this is more than enough for me.” Dylan moved his hand down so it gripped her chin and turned her head slightly to the right, exposing the left side of her neck to him. Emerson swallowed thickly when she felt his lips attach to the left corner of her lips, he started trailing kisses up to where her jaw met her neck and let his teeth scrape gently across the area, his tongue running across it after. 

He continued the trail of kisses down her neck again until his lips reached her pulse point. He felt Emerson stiffen in his arms and knew he found exactly what he has been looking for. He started sucking on the spot lightly and felt Emerson’s grip on his hair tightern slightly. After a few seconds he bit down lightly on the skin and he heard a small noise slip past her lips that sent her pulling away from him. 

“I’m so-” but he cut her off.

“That’s natural don’t be sorry and let me finish what I started, and don’t make yourself stay quiet. I find it quite hot when I know I’m making a girl feel good,” he mumbled and attached his lips to the same spot again, intending to leave a very nice hickey there. 

Emerson laid plaint in Dylan’s hold and tried to let herself fully enjoy the feeling of his lips against her neck. She hoped he wasn't lying when he said he liked hearing that he made girls feel good because she let a quiet moan slip past her lips when he bit down on the area again. He continued to suck a little harder on the area and soothed it with his tongue every few seconds. 

Dylan continued his actions until he knew there would be a bruise forming on the area and pulled away to admire his work. A dark bruise was in fact starting to form exactly where he wanted it to and he leaned down to run his tongue across it a final time before he kissed his way back up to Emerson’s lips. 

She felt more comfortable this time and decided maybe she could try and take more of a lead, not wanting to leave Dylan high and dry. She pulled on the hem of Dylan’s shirt while they kissed and he pulled away to pull the fabric over his head, dropping it on the floor next to his bed. Emerson let herself admire his body for a moment before she spoke, “can I try?” she asked quietly.

Dylan let himself let out a quiet groan at her question before nodding. He gripped her hips again and flipped them over so she straddled his lap, her ass resting right above his growing ‘problem’. Emerson leaned forward to kiss his lips before she ran her tongue under his bottom lip, slowly and slightly unsure. Dylan parted his lips and allowed her to move her tongue into his mouth, tangling with his for a moment before she pulled away.

“Just like this?” She asked as she grabbed his chin and turned his head to the side. Dylan gave a hum in approval and closed his eyes when he felt Emerson attach her lips to his neck. Her left hand splayed out over his abs while her right shakily held his chin still. 

She remembered one of her friends saying something about her boyfriend loving it when she pulled on his earlobe with her teeth while they were making out and decided it was worth a shot if it could possibly impress Dylan. She allowed her lips to trail up his neck until they were right under Dylan’s lips and felt him shiver when she planted a kiss there. Closing her eyes and hoping for thr best she pulled on his earloble lightly with her teeth and heard Dylan let out a breathy ‘fuck’. 

Happy with herself Emerson trailed her lips down his neck again until they met his adams apple. She bit down lightly on the skin before she began sucking on it, trying to mimic the actions he had done on her neck a few minutes earlier. She soothed her tongue over the skin after a little while and felt Dylan’s grip on her hips tighten as he let out a louder groan this time. “Damn you learn fast,” he mumbled as Emerson sucked on his skin again before pulling lightly on it with her teeth. She left a gentle kiss on the area before sitting up, admiring the dark mar forming on his skin. 

“Thanks,” she smiled leaning down to peck his lips. “I had a great teacher,” it was her turn to offer Dylan a wink. She laid her head down on his chest and his arms came to wrap around her, hugging her against him. “We should probably go downstairs and see what everyone’s doing,” she said after noticing it had fallen quiet outside now.

Dylan laughed and it shook her entire body, “yeah sporting matching hickeys and swollen lips,” he replied. “But I think you’re right.” He unwrapped his arms from Emerson and pulled her down into one final, lingering kiss before she sat up fully. She grabbed her glasses off the nightstand and slid them on straight.

“Here,” she bent down to hand him his shirt, “might want to put that back on,” she shrugged as she wandered out of his room and to the staircase. 

Dylan rushed to pull the shirt over his head as he followed Emerson down the stairs, “hope you know you’re staying in my room tonight!” He told her while she grabbed her water bottle.

“Yeah,” Emerson took a sip, “and you might want to put your shirt on right side out before you go outside,” she patted his chest while she walked past, pulling the sliding glass door open and stepping outside. Leaving Dylan in the middle of the kitchen, red faced while he turned his shirt right side out.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia. 

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

A/N: This is basically one giant shitpost. Read it if you want to. It’s self-indulgent and will be smutty. It’s probably not going to be super long, and I’m not committing to an update schedule. I am in a writing groove though, so who knows ;) No beta? No problem! Right? .... Ugh.

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 /  Chapter 19 /  *IN PROGRESS*

Chapter 1: Escape (Dylan POV)

‘It’s not easy being in the spotlight.’ Everyone says that. Everyone. And everyone also thinks it’s a cliché. The truth of the matter is, clichés are clichés for a reason. Fame and notoriety have a way of dehumanizing you. It separates you from everyone else, for largely superficial reasons. To Dylan, acting was what he did for a living, and he was lucky because it was something he was good at and that he loved. He wasn’t doing it for fame. In fact, he kind of hated that part of it all. He appreciated his fans, loved how passionate they were and that they chose to support his work, but he’d always found the idea of celebrity so odd.

You wouldn’t rush up to a barista that had served you coffee that morning on a walk with their dog and ask for a picture. Of course you wouldn’t. That’s absurd. That’s how he felt sometimes. He knew it wasn’t fair to compare those experiences, but he couldn’t help but long for the same anonymity. Nothing was his anymore. Privacy was something he still desperately clung to, and he was pretty good at keeping the most intimate details of his life to himself, but who else had to be careful who they were seen with in public and what tweets they chose to like? It was exhausting, but he’d signed up for it, he supposed.

It didn’t help that he lived in LA. It was a teeming swamp of paparazzi. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been photographed at LAX with his pillow tucked under his arm trying to hide as much as he could under his ball cap and sunglasses. It was the last place he wanted to be swarmed. He’d either woken up early to make a flight, or was jet lagged as hell on his way back from one thing or another, just wishing he was at home in his bed when they’re chasing him out to his car to get a picture. The whole fiasco attracted the attention of everyone else in the damn terminal. Countless autographs and unflattering photos later, he can finally escape.

An escape, that’s what he needed. He got those from time to time. He especially enjoyed his trips to New York. He still got noticed there, but not everyone that recognized him intruded. He could go to a Mets game, get asked for a couple of pictures, and go about his business. New Yorkers seemed to respect his personal space a bit more and didn’t seem as concerned or consumed with the spectacle of celebrity. But what he really loved was filming outside of the usual celebrity haunts.

Locations are kept quiet prior to the start of filming, for the most part, and those first few days, before anyone knows where you are or has really recognized you, you can walk around without the weight of all of that on your shoulders. That’s where he found himself now. He’d arrived early, ahead of the production crew and the other actors, to a small town in Nova Scotia, Canada. He was set to start filming a period piece that he’d signed onto a while back. The script had spoke to him and the director had reached out after seeing his performance in “Amazing Stories”.

He found a Bed and Breakfast online before he’d left LA. It was a quaint little place on a country road about 10 miles from where the majority of filming would be taking place. The air was cool, and the first hints of fall were stealing the green from the leaves in the trees. He forgot how much he loved fall on the east coast. It was always his favorite time of year before he’d moved to California.

Dylan was standing outside his rental car taking in the expanse of wheat fields and the river that wove its way through the valley when his phone vibrated in the pocket of his sweats. He snatched his ball cap off the passenger seat and placed it on his head as he read the message that flashed across his screen.

**----------**

T-Pose: You make it there alright?

**----------**

Dylan smiled. He and Tyler were out the night before for dinner at Tyler’s favorite bar, Stout, in LA and had hung out at Tyler’s place after. They laughed and caught each other up on what they were getting up to since they’d last spoken, quickly falling into old habits. He hated that he had to head home to be up early enough to catch his flight.

**----------**

Dylan: Yeah bro. I’m here

T-Pose: Nice! How is it so far?

Dylan: It’s quiet.

T-Pose: Sounds like just the right place for you right now

Dylan: Yeah. 2 weeks before filming starts. I’m just going to try to find some time to just exist, dude

T-Pose: I’m sure those Canadians will take good care of you up there

Dylan: Haha, for sure. Thanks again for the talk last night, man. I needed that shit more than you know

T-Pose: Always, brother. Always. I’ve got you

Dylan: Thanks, man. I got you too. Can you send me that song you played for me last night, btw?

T-Pose: For sure! I’ll throw it in the share drive.

Dylan: Sounds good, man. Listen. I gotta get settled in find a place to get some grub before I pass out 

T-Pose: All good, dude. Enjoy yourself up there. Let me know if you see a whale or some shit

Dylan: Hah! You’ll be the first to know if I get Moby Dicked

T-Pose: Dicked 😉

Dylan: Behave. You child.

T-Pose: 👶

  **----------**

Dylan smiled and shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. He walked around the car to the trunk and grabbed his bag and pillow. He didn’t even make it to the front door before an older woman, 5 feet tall on a good day, was coming out to greet him at the top of the stairs that led up to the front porch.

“Hi there, dear!” she said, beaming as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Hello,” he smiled back.

“I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding us.”

“Oh, no. None at all,” Dylan said, stepping up to stand next to her. “I’m just glad you had space for me on short notice.”

“Stop!” she scoffed playfully, waving her hand. “We’ve never been fully booked in the 30 years we’ve run this place. It’s no trouble at all.” She grinned, patting his shoulder. “I’m Violet,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Dylan,” he replied, taking her hand in his. “I’m just glad you were able to find space for me on such short notice, you know?” He set his bag down next to him. “I shouldn’t have been playing so fast and loose with my plans.”

He smiled, looking past her at the swing on the porch that lazily hung on its chains and the expanse of fields beyond the rail. This really was exactly where he needed to be.

“What brings you to Nova Scotia?” She asked, reaching to pick up his bag.

Dylan stopped her, smiling in thanks before picking it up himself. “Just some good ol’ fashioned R&R,” he sighed.

“Well,” she smiled, stepping out of his way to clear the path, “you came to the right place.” She opened the door and the day’s sunlight spilled into the modest lobby. An old Afghan rug ran along the hallway adjacent to the old oak staircase. A large sitting room opened to the left at the foot of the stairs, a stately fireplace adorning the wall. To the right, sat a large dining table with a single flower arrangement. The smell of fresh bread wafted out from the kitchen beyond the closed glass doors at the far end of the table.

“Nice place you got here,” he said with a nod, removing his hat.

She blushed just a little. “Well thank you! We like to think so.” She fussed with a crooked picture frame before clearing her throat. “I can show you to your room, if you like?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Dylan followed her up the staircase and down the hall to a room that overlooked the back of the property. The windows ran from the floor to the ceiling, all the trim dark and wide. The walls were covered in a speckled pattern of small flowers. The bed had four posts that nearly reached the high ceiling. There were more pillows than had any right to be on a single bed at one time, but the quilted blanket looked warm and inviting.

“If you don’t like it, there’s another—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, not wanting her to think he was displeased, “it’s perfect, really.” He smiled at her, sitting his bags on the end of the bed. “Thank you.”

She sighed, patting her thighs. “Well. I won’t trouble you any longer. If there’s anything you need, you can find one of us in the office downstairs next to the kitchen.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh! I almost forgot. Breakfasts are served at 8 am, if you’d like to partake.”

Dylan’s stomach growled at the thought of food. He never liked to eat before a flight, so his last meal was last night with Tyler.

“And there’s a book in the drawer of the nightstand with some information about local sight seeing, restaurants, and little tidbits my family has thrown in for guests.”

Dylan smiled. “That’s perfect, actually.”

“Alright then, dear. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and I hope to see you at breakfast!” She backed out through the door, closing it behind her.

Dylan looked up at the ceiling, taking a long breath as he stretched out his neck. He walked over to the window and pulled back the sheers to get a better view. A large tree stood alone in a field of green grass. Its canopy was nearly perfectly symmetrical, and on one of the lowest bows, a tire swing hung neglected on a worn rope. Beyond the tree, a large red barn stood tall in the field. It looked well cared for and recently painted. The hay loft door swung open in the breeze.

“Sure not in L.A. anymore.” 

[thelibrarianintraining]

The Division - Chapter Two - Mitch Rapp

Author: @thelibrarianintraining

Title: “Personal Trip”

Word Count: 1,326

Warnings: None

Summary: Gallowin and Rapp are in country on their first mission together. Gallowin is trying to solidify their cover, but Rapp is convinced that she’s just procrastinating.

Masterist

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

"Ah, Ms. Gallowin, it's good to see you again," smiled the receptionist as Gallowin and Rapp approached the front desk of the hotel. Rapp looked around warily. The place was perhaps too fancy. It reminded him of that mission with Hurley in Rome, but somehow even more extravagant. He felt under-dressed, but Gallowin had assured him that it would be fine. "Ah, you've brought a friend this time. How wonderful."

He didn’t add to their conversation as he scanned the large lobby.

"Yes, this is my fiance, Stuart Hodgman. He's never been here before. I assured him that he's in for a treat." smiled Gallowin, glancing over her shoulder at him with a wide smile. His focus was momentarily tugged away from taking in all the details of the lobby.

Gallowin looked stunning. Her hair was pulled back into a meticulously messy bun and diamond and pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes like tiny drops of rain, complementing the pearl necklace that fell perfectly between her collarbones. Her little-black-dress fell to just above her knees and matched perfectly with her black heels. He noticed then that it was drawing the attention of some of the other guests. She fit her role as an heiress incredibly well. He looked out of place next to her and he knew it. Who was crazy enough to believe that she had agreed to marry him?

She grabbed his hand with a smile after thanking the receptionist and pulled him toward the elevator. When they were in the elevator and she'd pressed the button for their floor, she leaned in like she was going to kiss him and he tensed. He hadn’t signed up for this.

"You're not a very believable actor, Rapp," she whispered in his ear before pulling away. The smile on her face said that she was amused, but they both knew that he’d have to work on his acting for this mission to succeed. "You're gonna have to work with me for this to work."

"Couldn't I have been your brother or something?" he questioned quietly. She laughed and then shook her head like he was being ridiculous.

"And why would I bring my brother to such a beautiful hotel for vacation?"

"I would've been much better at acting like your brother. Plus, I don’t look anything like an heiress’ fiance," he grumbled.

"Oh, but my dear, the benefits of being my lover are far better," she smiled, winking at him as she moved away. He frowned at her.

"You're very different from the woman that I met yesterday," he noted, recalling the stern woman who'd taken offense to his remark and made her point by handing his ass to him in the Barn.

"That's the point.”

"Where'd you train?"

The door opened behind her.

"Same place as you," she smiled, stepping backward out of the elevator and into the hall. She spun away from him, glancing over her shoulder only to say, "But this is not the place for that conversation."

She smiled as she looked away and he followed her down the hall to their suite.

"How many times have you been here?" He questioned as she closed the door and made her way around the suite with little difficulty. It was like she had just come home from work.

"Three, if you count my personal trip."

"You came here on a personal trip? Wouldn't that blow your cover?"

"Only helped to solidify it actually. If every time a certain person was at your hotel, something awful happened, wouldn't you start to question it?” She asked as she paused at the bedroom door to look over her shoulder at him. “And this is the first time that I've brought another person with me. That'll help as well and that is why you're playing the part of my fiance. I'm very good at my job, Rapp. You’d see if you’d just let me do it.”

"We'll see," he grumbled.

"Anyway, the sofa is yours. It does not fold out. This isn't that kind of hotel. I'll see you in the morning." And with that, she closed the door.

The first two days consisted of "exploring" the city and Rapp trying to play the fiancé, although he still wasn't too happy about it. He understood the purpose, he just wasn’t very good at playing the part. At least not to Eve’s standards. She was absolutely positive that no one would believe that he was her fiancé for the simple fact that he acted so distant. She said that it wasn’t his looks that would make people doubt it. It was the way he acted like everything else was more important. If anyone believed it, it was because they thought he only wanted her for her money. He didn’t really have a problem with them thinking that as long as they believed that he was her fiancé.

"We have to keep up the appearance that we're nothing more than rich tourists," Gallowin stated when he asked for possibly the twenty-fifth time why they hadn't started their search for the target yet. She sat on the balcony, sipping a glass of red wine and watching the night city. “And I’m waiting on some information.”

"I'm starting to think that this is just one of your personal trips, Gallowin."

"Do you know what makes a good undercover cop?" she questioned, glancing at him over her shoulder, her earring grazing the skin there. He shook his head. "Patience, because if you rush people to give you the information that you need, they're going to see right through you. You have to make them trust you before they'll tell you any of the good stuff. I thought that you already knew that."

She turned her attention back to the city in front of her. He let his eyes skim over her long shapely legs, her apricot dress complemented her skin tone perfectly and it made her smooth legs look incredibly touchable. The kind of legs that he wouldn’t mind having wrapped around him. Well, if he hadn’t already had them render him immobile in a fight...and if she wasn’t his unbearably patient partner.

While they were dicking around, solidifying their cover and ‘waiting on information,’ the bad guy could be out there doing whatever bad thing he did. People could be dying while Gallowin enjoyed a glass of wine and Rapp sat on his ass doing nothing. They were wasting valuable time and it was eating him alive. He didn’t understand how she could sit around like this.

"But it seems like we're doing absolutely nothing related to the mission. Couldn't you just seduce them? You're a beautiful woman. That'd save you so much time." He wanted to take it back as soon as he’d said it. He somehow got the feeling that the statement would offend her.

Gallowin downed the rest of her glass as she stood, her heels only adding to the perfect contours of her toned calves.

"That's a dangerous game that you are suggesting." He returned his attention to her face as she spoke. She glanced his way. "I'm not a female James Bond. My job is only to gather information. Just like yours is to kill the bad guys. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm heading to bed. I need some rest. Tomorrow the real work will begin."

She tossed an envelope into his lap as she stood. He let his eyes follow her to the bedroom, daring to let his gaze drop to her swaying hips. He couldn't wait for this mission to be over with. He was tired of being useless and patient. He was tired of playing the fiancé. He was tired of playing lover to an insanely beautiful woman that he knew he needed to keep his hands off of.

He didn't pick up the envelope until she'd closed the bedroom door behind her. Inside he found an invitation to a gala.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Authors Note: If you’re reading this... can you like let me know somehow? I’m gonna write it anyway, but if I’ve got fellow degenerates out there... hmu. 

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 /  Chapter 12 /  Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 5: Striking Bargains (Dylan POV)

“You need a ride?”

The rain splashed against the doorframe, smattering the passenger seat of his rental with little flecks of water. Amelia was sitting across from him, her face was red with embarrassment. 

“Kinda.”

Dylan smiled softly. “Hop in,” he said before rolling up the window. Then he reached across the seat to open the door. 

Amelia rolled up her window and got out, slamming the door behind her. She straightened out her jacket before pulling open the door Dylan had cracked. She got in and brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m so sorry.” 

He chuckled a bit. “Don’t be sorry. It’s totally fine.” 

“Thanks. Really. I couldn’t reach anyone on the phone, and that,” she gestured at her car, “is the only set of wheels my family has at the moment.” 

“It’s no problem, really,” he reassured her. “So where are we heading?”

“I uh, I’m supposed to be going to check out an apartment.” She took out her phone, clicking on a few things. “It’s not far really. It’s about 15 minutes away..” 

“Alright. You navigate, I’ll drive,” he said, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the parking space and turning out of the lot.

She smiled and put on her seat belt. “If you just head back toward your B&B, that’s like halfway there.” 

“So left here, then?” he asked, flicking his signal light for a right turn. 

“Right,” she corrected, looking over at his smirking face. “Ah. I see you’ve got jokes.” 

“Probably too many, or so I’ve sometimes been told.”

Amelia laughed softly and then the car’s cabin fell silent for a few moments, aside from the swipes of the windshield wipers, as they drove down the road that led to the cemetery at the corner of the next turn they had to make. 

It wasn’t uncomfortable sitting with her in silence. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She was calming somehow. Her energy was complimentary to his own. He liked other people, generally, but some were more exhausting than others. His infectious humour and good nature had always carried him in most social situations. People liked him, even people he could do without, but that wasn’t the case here. He felt a connection with this girl. There was something familiar about the way it felt to be with her, like she was someone he’d always known. 

“So an apartment, huh?” Dylan asked. 

“Yeah, my current living arrangements just… are not working.” 

“Bad roommates?” 

“Oh. You have no idea.” Amelia’s eyes went wide. 

“That bad?” 

“Well, two nights ago I walked into my kitchen and saw my dad pouring a glass of milk in his underwear.” 

“Ah, yeah. That’s bad.” Dylan said, trying to mask the laugh that underpinned his words, but it was too late.

Amelia pressed her lips together in an annoyed sneer and jabbed his elbow with hers.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “But dads are just the best.”

Amelia’s expression smoothed. “I should never have moved back in there.” She shook her head. “I think I’ve outstayed my sanity by about six months.”

“How long have you been back?”

“Six months.”

Dylan looked over at her and she smirked. “Now who’s got jokes?” She was funny too, but no in an obnoxious, attention seeking way. He’d always been a bit more performative, himself.

“Yeah. I’m the next big thing in comedy.” 

Dylan couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. The road ahead of them curved and the B&B was just ahead. “Alright, human GPS. You’re up,” he said. 

“At the end of the road you’re gonna turn left, and then just kinda follow that road into town and over the bridge.” 

“That it?” 

“Is rural Nova Scotia not the bustling metropolis you were expecting?” Amelia teased as they passed a gas station that only had one pump.

“No, not at all.” Dylan recalled the slogan from the promotional information his assistant had sent to him prior to his trip. “I believe the brochure promised ocean playgrounds, and I haven’t seen a single one.” 

Amelia just smiled, looking down at her phone as they passed over the river and rounded a bend to the first stoplight Dylan had seen since he’d left the airport. It was green, so he drove straight through it.

“Oh shit!”

“Hmm?” 

“We were supposed to go right at that light.” 

“And you call yourself a GPS?” Dylan was smiling, so Amelia did the same. 

“I’ve never felt like more of a failure,” Amelia deadpanned. 

“Oh my God,” Dylan laughed out under his breath, covering his mouth with one hand.

They circled back on the little town’s one-way street and were back on track. The shops were quaint, and quiet. There was a little cafe on the corner with a few tables tucked under the eaves, empty of patrons in the rain. 

“Alright, you just turn off here onto Westlake and it should be on the right just past the curve. 134.” 

The street was wide, lined with large houses. Clearly an older part of the town, but it was charming. The trees were old growth, their leaves quivering as the rain pelted down on them. They glistened with it and the bright fall colours that were beginning to paint them red and orange. He missed autumn leaves more than just about anything. Dylan slowed as they approached the curve and saw the building come into view. It was a old Victorian house with a porch that wrapped around the side, and on one side there was a small turret that sat above the rest of the roofline.

“Wow. Nice place.” 

“Right?” Amelia looked out at it through the windshield. Her eyes were wide, and Dylan couldn’t help but smile at her look of wonderment.

Dylan pulled into the short driveway behind a white van and shut off the engine. “You want me to just wait here?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I should only be a couple of minutes.”

“Sounds good,” Dylan said, taking out his phone. 

Amelia smiled and hopped out of the car, heading for the front door.

He pulled up his messages with his assistant. She was on vacation, and he hated to bother her, but he knew she wouldn’t mind. She always insisted he didn’t hesitate if he needed her. “I know this is an odd request, but can you contact roadside assistance to service a red Toyota Yaris that’s stranded at the Dockside Pub in Port Wallace, NS? I’m fine. It’s not mine. I’ll explain later. Have I mentioned you’re the best?” Just as he hit send, the passenger door opened. 

“You know. A second opinion probably wouldn’t hurt.” 

Dylan jarred in his seat a little startled, but quickly smiled, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Uh, sure.” 

Amelia shook her head. “It’s okay—” 

“No, I’d love to check it out.” He unbuckled himself and got out. “But I have to warn you,” he said, speaking to her over the car, “I’m very opinionated.” 

Amelia rolled her eyes as they walked together toward the front door. It was sheltered under the large front porch. She knocked and heard a bit of commotion and a few loud thuds before a rather exhausted looking older gentleman finally opened the front door. 

“What can I do for ya?” he asked. His face was speckled with white paint, and he brow was beading in sweat. 

“Hi there, I’m Amelia Clark. I’m here to check out the apartment?” 

“Ah! Yes. Of course. I’m Steve.” He stuck his paint splattered hand out and she took it in hers. He then looked to Dylan. “And you are?”

“Dylan.” He took his hand out of his pocket and stuck it out in greeting.

“I’ll have to update that application then if there’s gonna be two of—” 

“Oh, no, no,” Amelia interrupted. “It’s just me. He’s just… uh...” 

“An apartment hunting wingman,” Dylan said and then pressed his lips together in an awkward smile.

“Well alright then,” Steve said, stepping out of the way and inviting them in with a wave of his arm. 

The foyer opened up to a high ceiling and a stately staircase that wrapped around to a landing. It was beautiful, but showed signs of age. 

“There are 3 apartments in the house, and the one you were askin’ about is just over here.” Steven led them to the left of the staircase and through a newer looking doorway that was obviously a later addition. The apartment was covered in drop cloths and paint buckets. A ladder rested against the wall and several rollers and brushes sat dripping into trays. 

“Oh wow,” Amelia was looking around at the ceilings and old light fixtures. “This place is beautiful.” 

“It does have a lot of charm, that’s for sure, but it needs some love.” He tapped the wall behind him where he’d recently stripped away some old wallpaper. “Have a look around. I’ll be here when you’re through.” 

“Thanks,” Amelia said, stepping past him into the living space. 

Dylan followed after her as she passed from room to room. He watched her as she inspected the closet in the bedroom. She brushed the curtains back to look out the window and Dylan smiled as the light caught her eyes. She stepped past him in the doorway and made her way to the kitchen. It was small, but nice. The cabinets were more modern, but they still looked like they fit with the more traditional elements of the apartment. 

“It’s nice, right?” she asked him, smiling as she trailed her fingers over the countertop. 

“Yeah,” Dylan replied. “It’s really nice.” 

“Did you check out the turret?” Steve’s voice boomed from the entrance. “The stairs are kind of tucked back in the corner of the den over there. 

Dylan and Amelia both turned in the direction he was pointing. At the side of the living room there was a small half wall that sectioned off a small area. The walls were lined with built in shelves, and in the corner, the walls turned out revealing a staircase that spiraled upwards. 

“After you,” Dylan said, gesturing to the stairs. 

Amelia began climbing them as they curved around a couple of times before opening up to a platform at the top, and Dylan followed. There was a cushioned bench that was tucked under the windows. The view was of the front yard, but they were high up, almost in the canopy of the trees.

“Wow,” she said, her hand gripping the window frame. 

Dylan was quiet for a few moments, appreciating the details of the turret’s ceilings and details. “Yeah, this is pretty fucking cool. Excuse my language.” 

Amelia laughed and the two of them headed back down. 

“Well, what do you think?” Steve asked, wiping his hands on his pants, leaving a trail of white paint behind.

“It’s perfect, really.” 

“Well, if you like it, it’s yours.”

“That’s amazing!”

“I’m just going to need a week or so to get around to this painting.” Steve looked around at the mess he’d made. “God, I hate painting.” 

Dylan watched Amelia look around for a couple of moments. 

“I could paint it for you, if that might be helpful?” 

“Oh?” Steve’s eyes widened. “You a good painter?” 

“May I?” she asked, reaching out for the small tray with a paint brush resting in it.

“Sure,” Steve said. 

Amelia picked up the brush, dipped it into the paint and brushed away some of the excess on the side and stepped over to the window frame Steve had been painting. She ran the brush along the edge, perfectly painting the frame without getting any on the adjacent wall. 

“Not bad,” Steve admired her steady hand, and so did Dylan. In the few times he’d done any amount of painting, he’d relied pretty heavily on painter’s tape. “You’re hired.” 

Amelia smiled, and Dylan felt his own cheeks round as he smiled at her. 

“How about you get the place painted up, and I forgive the damage deposit and first month’s rent?” 

Amelia rushed over to him with her hand out to shake his. “Deal!”

“I expect the wingman here to be lending a helping hand as well,” Steve smiled, looking over Amelia’s shoulder at him. 

“It’ll probably jus—”

“You bet,” Dylan said, interrupting her before flashing a quick wink.

Steve grinned, looking around at drop cloths and paint. “So I guess I’ll just wash up and leave the supplies here for you.” He grabbed a lid for a can and pressed it on. 

“Yeah! I should be able to come by tomorrow and get a lot of it done.” 

“Oh! Here are the keys.” Steve reached into his pocket and twisted two small silver keys off a large ring. “Front door, and apartment.” 

Amelia held out her hand and he placed the keys in her palm. 

“Welcome home,” Dylan whispered.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 /  Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 /  Chapter 12 /  Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 4: Good Service (Amelia POV/Dylan POV)

The restaurant was never really that busy on Saturday, so Amelia usually served alone. A few regulars had already been in for their waffles and eggs. She leaned over the bar chatting with the barista who also prepped the bar for evening service about the apartment she was going to see. She looked down at her watch: 12:45pm.

Most of her tables had already cleared out when she heard the door alarm. There was no hostess for the brunch shift, so she headed for the entrance to greet the newly arriving customer. When she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. 

“Oh! Uh… Hi.” 

Dylan was standing in the entrance, looking a little shocked and awkward. He was wearing a short sleeve grey hoodie flecked with wet speckles from the rain and a pair of black sweats.

Amelia’s mouth hung open just a little before she snapped herself back to reality. “Hi.”

Dylan smiled, pushing back his dampened hood and running his hand through his hair. “I uh, thought maybe you guys might serve brunch?” 

Amelia grabbed a menu from the hostess stand. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.” 

“Great!” Dylan smiled. 

Amelia led him to the same table he’d sat at the night before, setting the menu down in front of him. “I’ll give you a minute to decide,” she said. 

“If you have waffles, it’s decision made.” 

Amelia grinned, taking out her pad and pen. “We’ve got hand poured waffles with fruit and whipped cream.”

Dylan happily leaned back in his chair. “Sounds delicious.” His eyes trailing up from her hands before their eyes met. 

“Coffee?” she asked, her voice shaking just a touch with nerves. 

“Yes. Please.” 

She rung in his order at the register and grabbed the carafe of coffee, a deep mug, and a basket of creamers and sugars from the bar fridge. She walked back over to his table and poured his coffee, he held the mug’s handle as she did. His other hand wrapped around it. The tendons and veins of his hands pushing out against his skin as he drummed his fingers. 

“Your meal should be out in no time.” 

“Thanks,” he said, tearing open a creamer to pour into his drink. 

As Amelia turned to head back to the bar, Dylan spoke. 

“Amelia?” 

She turned. “Yes?” 

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

She turned back to him. “You too,” she smiled. The restaurant was empty, even the barista had stepped out for a break.

“Do you usually work the morning after a night shift?” he asked. 

“Only on Saturday,” she replied. 

“I wasn’t really expecting to see you.” Dylan set his mug down and slid his chair a little further into the table, sitting up a little straighter. “But I’m glad I did.”

Amelia felt the rush of heat to her cheeks and knew that it was turning them a bright hue of pink. 

Dylan smirked just a little. 

She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself, looking away from him and running her hands over her apron. “So uh, how was your evening?” she asked. 

“Good,” he answered. “The B&B I’m staying at is nice. Quiet.” 

“Oh? Where are you staying?” As soon as she asked, she cringed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— you don’t have to ans—”

“No, no. It’s fine,” he leaned down, catching her eyes that she’s hidden away in embarrassment. “I’m staying at the little one up the road a little ways: ‘Orchard View B&B’.” 

“Oh!” Amelia knew the place well. It was only a few minutes from her parent’s place. “You must have met Violet then?” 

“I have, yeah,” he said, taking a big gulp of coffee. “She met me when I arrived. Nice lady.” 

When he set his mug down, Amelia gestured with the coffee carafe. “Refill?” 

“Sure,” he smiled. “So, uh… I was thinking about doing a little sightseeing today, but…” He looked toward the window at the rain that was trailing down it in tiny rivers. “I have a feeling the rain is going to make that difficult.”

“Oh. Are you not a fan of this beautifully dreary day?” she asked, filling his mug. 

He chuckled a bit. “No, no. It’s actually kinda refreshing. It doesn’t rain much in L.A.” He turned to look out the window again. “You almost forget what it can be like.” 

“Just not the best weather for a hike in foreign lands?” she joked. 

“Exactly,” he said, playfully pointing at her. “Being the knowledgeable local that you clearly are, do you uh… have any rainy day suggestions?” 

She thought to herself, mindlessly wiping her cloth over the back of the chair opposite him. “You could check out the greenhouses at the nursery across the river?” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. There’s some beautiful plants over there… if you’re into that kinda thing.” 

“Plants are alright, yeah.” He took another sip of his coffee. “You go there often?” 

She smiled. “Yeah. It’s kind of my day job. I run the nursery over there.” 

“Oh! Wow. Really?” 

“Mhm. Me and my green thumb toil away hybridizing flowers and growing seedlings. It’s very important work,” she joked.  

“Sounds like a lot of fun.” 

His smile was infectious. Every time his lips curled up at the corners, Amelia felt her own following suit. Her heart was beating against her breastbone, and she could hear her pulse in her ears. 

“It’s a nice way to spend some time. Especially in the rain.” She closed her eyes imagining the amplified sound of the rain that was pattering against the windows of the pub. 

The bell rang out from the kitchen. His order was ready. She turned from the table and walked swiftly to the swinging doors. The chef was standing at the end of the line holding the plate. She thanked the kitchen staff and took the plate, grabbing a set of cutlery wrapped in a napkin. 

“Waffles for the gentleman,” she said, setting them down in front of Dylan. 

His eyes widened as he took in the heaped pile of fruit and whipped cream piled on the thick pastry. “Woah.” 

“Enjoy!” She said with a smirk as she headed back to the kitchen. She didn’t want to just stand there in the dining room. There were no other customers and she knew she would just end up staring at him. She tried to stay busy, cleaning up the servers station in the kitchen, wrapping silverware for dinner service, popping out into the dining room a couple of times to check if Dylan needed anything or was close to finishing up. 

When he’d finally eaten the last of his second heaped waffle, Amelia went out to clear his plate. 

“Good?” she asked. 

His cheeks were still full when he replied. “Delicious.”

She took his plate and offered him a final cup of coffee, which he politely refused. 

“So, uh…” he began as she was wiping down the table. “I was thinking about the nursery…”

Amelia watched him nervously fidget with the string on his hoodie. 

“Wondered if maybe you might like… wanna show me around?”

Amelia didn’t really know what to say. Was he asking her to be polite since she’d mentioned it and he knew she worked there? “Uh…” she stuttered. 

“It’s totally fine if—”

“No, no. I’d love to go. It’s just…” She looked at her watch, 1:50 pm. Her shift was almost over and she was supposed to check out the apartment. “I have somewhere I need to be after work. I’m off at two.”

Dylan looked past her at the clock that hung over the bar. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. I wish I could though, really. I hope you’ll still go.” 

“Oh sure, yeah.” Dylan rested his back against his chair, looking up at Amelia. “I’m still going to check it out. Just across the river, right?” 

Amelia nodded. “Left at the light on the other side of the bridge. You can’t miss it.” 

“Nice. Alright, so what do I owe you?” 

Amelia had already printed out his bill and handed it to him. 

He checked it quickly and dug out his wallet.

“Machine?” she asked, taking it out of her apron. 

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling out a credit card. 

She typed in the total and handed it to him. 

He pressed a few buttons and entered his pin and they both waited awkwardly for the transaction to complete. He handed the machine back to her as the receipt printed. 

“Do you need a copy?” she asked, tearing it off. 

“No, that’s fine, thanks.” He pushed back in his chair and leaned to put his wallet back in his pocket. 

“Alright. Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day,” she said, finally looking down at the receipt. He’d left her a $50 tip. “Wait. Dylan. That’s too much.” 

“Good service is good service,” he said with a wink. 

“Dylan. No. That’s more than the damn waffles.”

He laughed. “Well, is it not outside of your purview to be a tour guide?” 

She smiled. 

He was standing now, and when she tried to refuse the tip a final time, he placed his hand on her elbow. “You earned it. It’s yours. I’m not taking it back.” 

Her heart skipped and she could feel her cheeks flushing. “Okay.”

“Alright.” He smiled, meeting her gaze before letting his hand fall away. “I guess I’m off to see about some plants.” 

Amelia cleared her throat. “I hope you have a great time.” 

He stepped back from her and pulled his keys from the pocket of his hoodie. “You too,” he said as he brushed past her and walked toward the front door looking back at her with a smile once before he passed into the entrance and out of sight. 

Amelia snatched a drink menu from the table and fanned herself with it. “Holy. Shit.”

**---------------**

Dylan pulled his hood up over his head and rushed to his car as the rain pelted down even harder than it had been before. He slid into the driver’s seat as his phone rang in his pocket. He looked at the lit screen, reading the caller ID. It was his manager, Liz. 

“Hello?” he said, picking up the call. 

“Dylan! Hi!” Liz sounded bright and cheerful 

“Hey, Liz. What’s up?” 

Just as Dylan picked up his phone, he saw Amelia rushing out from the restaurant, slipping a little on the mud of the parking lot as she ran toward her car. 

“I was just calling to check in and see how you’re doing. The producer called and wanted to see that you were on schedule to arrive on location.” 

“You didn’t tell him I was already here, did you?” 

Dylan saw Amelia slam her hands into the steering wheel before getting back out of the car and lifting the hood. 

“It’s almost like you don’t know me at all,” Liz joked.

Dylan smiled. Liz was always looking out for him, ever since the beginning. “You’re right, Liz. I’ll never question you again.”

She laughed. “Is there anything you need from me up there?” 

“No, no,” he said. Amelia was holding her jacket over her head as she fussed with the hood latch and opened it. “I think I’m all set. At least for now.”

“Oh! I did have something I needed to talk with you about, if you have a minute?” 

“What’s that?” he asked, distracted. Amelia was clearly frustrated and he could practically hear her cursing from here.

“Well, there’s a new project that I think might be—”

“Actually, Liz… is it okay if we chat about this later?” Amelia had slammed the lid at this point and gotten back in her car. 

“Yeah. Sure!” 

“Thanks. I’ll give you a call soon.” 

“Great. We’ll talk soon!” 

“Bye, Liz.” 

“Bye!” 

He hung up and tucked his phone back in his pocket, starting his car. He hesitated for a minute before he shifted into drive and pulled around the lot and parked next to Amelia. He turned to look at her through the window as she tossed her phone into the passenger seat and buried her face in her hands. He leaned over and tapped on his window before rolling it down. 

The sound startled Amelia and she turned toward it, her entire face flushing red before she rolled down her own window with the crank. 

“Car troubles?”

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 /  Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 3: Impressions (Amelia POV/Dylan POV)

“Sorry I’m late, A.” 

Amelia sighed, sinking into the seat. Her sister was always apologizing for one thing or another. She loved her, even though every new excuse was more exhausting than the last, but she wasn’t upset about having to wait tonight. Despite having been up and on her feet since 8am.

“It’s fine, Bre.” Amelia said. 

Her sister looked sideways at her. “That’s a first,” she said, turning off the main road. “I was ready for you to tear my head off.” 

Amelia smiled. “You did promise you wouldn’t be late today, so maybe I should,” Amelia jabbed her lightly with her elbow. 

“I got tied up. I’ve been working on this essay for Mr. Parker and you know how he is.” She flicked the signal light to indicate her turn onto their street. “He’s a fucking tyrant.” 

Amelia laughed. “You better not let mom hear you cussing. She’ll start to think I’m a bad influence.” She smiled and turned to look out the window, watching the street lights flash by, still trying to process what had just happened. Did I actually just have a conversation with Dylan O’Brien? 

“Who was that you were talking to at the pub?” Bre asked. “Coworker?”

Amelia felt her heart stutter. Part of her wanted to spill to her sister, she might actually be a bigger Teen Wolf fan than Amelia was, but she stopped herself. She didn’t want to compromise Dylan’s privacy, and she knew how Bre could be. 

“Uh, yeah, new co-worker,” Amelia lied. 

They pulled into the driveway and Bre hopped out without turning out the headlights. Amelia sighed, reaching across the center console to turn them off. 

“You know, if you had your own car, you wouldn’t have to worry about me being late,” Bre winked. 

“I’m working on it, trust me.” Amelia shook her head and followed her sister in the front door. 

Amelia had found herself back in a situation she never would have expected at 26. She was living in her parent’s basement, her childhood bedroom long ago converted into a craft room for her mother. When relationships explode, there’s always fallout. Her 5-year relationship had ended about 6 months ago, and despite her better judgement, she’d abandoned everything to do with it. She left their apartment, didn’t want their car, their furniture, nothing. She left with two suitcases filled with her clothes, and a lamp her grandmother had given her. That was all she could stand to look at. 

She’d pickled up a second job at the pub to try to save up enough to start rebuilding her life, and she reluctantly accepted her parent’s offer to stay with them until she did. Before her breakup, she worked as a botanical curator for the Natural History Museum in the city, but so did her ex. That’s how they met. Just like everything else, she left that behind as well, replacing it with a position at a garden center and nursery. She actually really enjoyed the work, but it was a hell of a paycut. 

She flopped down on the pull-out couch. Her feet ached. She’d been on them since 8am. Working two jobs was taking its toll. She dug out her phone, pulling down her notification bar. There was a weather alert about the rain tomorrow, a push notification from google about some new political shenanigans that she didn’t even have the strength to read, and a gmail notification. She sat up a little straighter as she read the subject line: “2 BR Apartment - Application”. She clicked the alert and read:

Dear Miss Carter, 

Thank you so much for your interest in the apartment at 134 Westlake Avenue. We have reviewed your application and would love to have you come for a viewing. The apartment has some interest, so the sooner the better. 

Let us know when you might be available over the next couple of days, and we can arrange for you to come and have a look. If it works for you, I will be over there painting tomorrow afternoon. I’ll probably be there from around 2-5pm, you can swing by whenever it works for you.

All the best, 

Stephen Parsons

Amelia smiled, checking her calendar for her work schedule. It was Saturday and she worked the brunch shift, but was off at 2pm. She sent her reply. She took the family’s only car to work on Saturdays, so she could swing over after she got off. She hurriedly sent her reply and set her phone on the coffee table. If she could get the apartment, that was step one to gaining back some independence. 

She sighed, kicking off her sneakers and throwing her legs up onto the couch. She laid there for a bit, staring up at the ceiling tiles. The last thing on her mind before she drifted off to sleep was Dylan. 

**---------------**

Dylan flicked the light off to the ensuite bathroom, wiping the water from his stubble. He was shirtless with his sweats hung low around his hips. He sat down on the edge of his bed and dug through his luggage to find his phone charger. He plugged it in behind the nightstand and started piling the collection of pillows onto the chair in the corner until they were spilling onto the floor, replacing them with the one he always brought with him. He slid out of his sweats, tossing them onto his open luggage at the foot of the bed before he slipped into the sheets. 

The only light in the room emanated from the lamp on the nightstand. He tucked himself in and reached over to shut it off. He laid there for a few minutes in the dark, looking toward the windows. His eyes slowly adjusted until he could see the wind shifting the sheer curtains. It was a bit chilly, but he always slept better in a cool room. He nestled into his pillow. He always had a hard time sleeping away from home. 

He usually tried to avoid his phone before bed, but he felt himself reaching for it anyway. He entered his passkey and opened twitter. He scrolled lazily through posts for a while, smiling at a few, but choosing not to engage. He wasn’t ready for his alerts to be filled tonight. He watched a couple of highlight clips from the Mets game the night before and then locked his screen and set it aside. 

He sighed deep and full, crossing his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He was content, his stomach full and his feet happy to be off the floor. If his first day here was any indication, he was going to enjoy his stay. 

That night he dreamed of the ocean, the Atlantic, of a trip he’d taken with his family to the coast. He could feel the sand between his toes, could hear the waves crashing against the rocks. He loved the beach, but there was always something special about the Atlantic. The water was cooler, it broke with a little more force. He missed it.

Then he shifted through the haze of his consciousness and found himself staring out over a river, standing on its high banks, watching the sun set in the tall grass, when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see Amelia’s face glowing with her bright smile. The muted sound of his phone's alarm began to pull him from his subconscious. 

He woke in a room filled with the dreary light of a gloomy day. He could hear the rain pattering outside the open window. He got up, taking his phone with him to the bathroom, setting it to play a friend’s podcast as he shuffled around getting ready for a shower. He turned up the volume and climbed into the clawfoot tub, pulling the curtain and stepping into the steamy water. He let it run through his hair and wash over his back.

He didn’t rush like he usually did. He didn’t have anywhere to be. He slowly washed himself, scrubbing his scalp and letting the soap run down over the planes of his face before rinsing it off. His podcast was coming to an end when he finally shut off the water and stepped out onto the mat. He wrapped the towel on the back of the door around his waist and wiped the steam from the mirror. He looked at himself, contemplating shaving off his scruff. He was meant to be clean shaven for the movie, so he decided to let it ride for now. He kind of hated shaving anyway. 

He picked up his phone to check the time. 11:45am. Shit. He always slept late the night after a flight, so he’d missed the included breakfast. An 8am breakfast was ambitious on the best of days. He’d have to find somewhere else to eat, and he already had a pretty good idea where he was going to try first.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Authors Note: Does anyone read this??? Also! KISSES ;)

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 /  Chapter 12 /  Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 6: Hideaways (Amelia POV)

“Well,” Dylan said, gripping the steering wheel, “congrats on the new place!” 

“Thanks! Saving the first month’s rent means I might actually be able to afford a beater mobile too,” Amelia joked. 

Dylan's phone chimed and vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, swiping the screen and then typing out a response to the text he’d gotten, biting his lip a little as he did so before he stuck his phone back in his pocket and turned to her. 

“Thanks again for bringing me. I really appreciate it.” 

“Happy to help,” he smiled as he turned the key in the ignition. “Look at that. It’s only three thirty.” 

“Yeah, looks like.” She couldn’t keep nervous energy from flipping her stomach when he was looking at her with those bright brown eyes. 

“You feel like being a tour guide?” he said, tipping his head and nearly winking closed one of his eyes. 

“Huh?” 

“The nursery?” 

“Oh!” Amelia sat up straighter in her seat. “Sure, yeah! I could do that.” 

“Good,” Dylan chucked.

Continue Reading on AO3! 

I’ve migrated the fic over there. If for some reason you’ve been reading along on tumblr and don’t have access to AO3, please let me know. With the content that will be coming in future chapters, I think it is better that it exist there. 

Thanks everyone! 

Trashy the Trash Panda

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 /  Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 2: The Dock Pub (Dylan POV)

Dylan sat on the edge of his bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, his slightly grown out hair still wet from the shower, and opened the nightstand drawer. He pulled out the small binder inside. It had a sticker on the front that resembled the B&B’s logo on the sign by the road, but it was worn and peeling off in the corners. He opened it to the first page, which was a short, hand-written note from the owners thanking the guest for their booking and wishing them a happy stay. Dylan smiled and flipped past it to the restaurant listings and the nearby attractions.

His stomach growled as he looked through the snippets of menus that had been slipped into see-through sleeves and decided on a place that apparently sat next to the river and brewed its own beer. The Dock Pub.

He quickly got dressed in a dark pair of slacks, a grey t-shirt, and a pair of grey Adidas. He gave himself a quick once over in the mirror of the dresser, rubbing his stubbled chin before topping off the look with a backward Mets hat. 

He sauntered down the stairs and gave a quick nod to Violet, who was sweeping a few fallen flower petals from the dining room floor. He headed out the door to his rental and hopped in. He drove the narrow country road with the window down, his hand playing in the wind. It was so peaceful. He didn’t pass a single car until he reached the turn for the pub. He parked overlooking the river. 

Before he’d arrived, he read a bit about where he was filming. He was in the Annapolis Valley near the opening of the Bay of Fundy. The tides here were said to be the highest in the world, and that was pretty clear as he looked down at the red mud of the wide river that was a mere trickle. Low tide, he assumed. He took in a deep breath, drawing the salty air into his lungs. He could smell the earth and fields. It wasn’t tainted by exhaust, or fumes. It was clean and clear.

He stepped into the restaurant, which was actually quite nice, not that he was expecting a hole. But there was a desk where he spoke to the host before he was directed to his seat, there were long tables under ornate lights, and a beautifully detailed old bar that lined the wall opposite an expanse of floor to ceiling windows. The view was incredible. The sun was setting against the basin beyond the river. 

He was seated alone at a table for two near the windows in the corner of the room, as he requested. There were several other people chatting at the bar, and a family seated at a table in an adjacent room, but no one had paid him any mind as he sat staring out the window.

“Excuse me,” a young woman cleared her throat. 

He turned to look at her, taking off his hat instinctively, smoothing his hand through his hair. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she smiled. “I was just wondering if you were ready to order, or if you needed another minute with the menu.” She had her hands tucked in the pockets of her apron, and her pen resting behind her ear. 

He hadn’t even opened the menu. “Uh…”

“I’ll come back,” she smiled.

“No, no,” he said before she turned away. “Uh… tell you what. I’ve had a long day, I’m starving, and I’m also indecisive.” 

“An unfortunate combination,” she grinned. 

“Yes. Yes it is,” he looked past her at the bar. “Tell you what, I’ll have a beer. Anything, really. Whatever’s good here.” 

“And to eat?” she asked, taking out her notepad and grabbing the pen behind her ear. 

“Whatever you recommend, as long as it doesn’t involve pineapple on pizza.”

She smiled, jotting a note into her pad. “The haddock here is great, if you like fish. We’re sort of known for our fish and chips.” 

“Fish and chips sounds great, thanks!” 

“No problem!” She picked up the unopened menu from the table. “I’ll bring your drink in just a moment, and,” she pushed the smaller drink menu closer, “I’ll leave that with you, just in case.”

He smiled. “Thanks.” 

He watched her as she walked over to the bar, leaning over it to order his drink from the bartender. She was tall and curvy. Her clothing was mostly black, he assumed the bar’s uniform. A black t-shirt with the bar’s logo on the back, her black apron, and a black pair of skinny jeans. She wore a leather pair of black Adidas on her feet. Her dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail.

He looked away when she turned around carrying his drink after he realized he was staring.

She sat the drink down on a cardboard coaster she pulled from her apron. “This is a house brew blueberry IPA,” she said. “It’s a hit around here, and one of my personal favorites.” 

“Interesting,” he said, picking up the glass, looking at the few berries that sat sunken at the bottom. “I do like an IPA.” 

“I’m glad,” she smiled. “Is there anything else I can get you while you wait?”

“No, thanks. I’m all set, I think.” 

“Alright then,” she said, patting her thighs. “Wave me down if you need anything.” 

“Will do,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. He watched her for a moment as she wiped down a table near the entrance—listening to her laugh with her co-worker over something he couldn’t quite hear—before he looked out the window again. The sun was sinking below the horizon and the sky was pink in its wake.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this at ease in public. It was refreshing to not feel everyone’s eyes on him. If anything, he’d been the one staring since he’d arrived. His server was charming, and he couldn’t keep his gaze from drifting to her. 

She caught his stare this time as she leaned against the bar near the kitchen. She smiled before he could look away in embarrassment. She cupped her hand like she was holding a glass, pointed to it, and then gestured a thumbs up, thumbs down. 

He smiled back, giving her a thumbs up. 

She nodded with a wink. 

A bell rang out from the kitchen and she turned to push through the door, disappearing behind it for a minute before emerging carrying a red basket in one hand and a bottle of ketchup in the other. 

Dylan watched her as she approached, setting his drink down on his coaster. 

“Dinner is served,” she said, setting the basket down in front of him. “There’s regular and malt vinegar just there,'' she said, pointing to a metal rack on the table. “Tartar sauce in the basket along with some coleslaw.” 

“It smells delicious,” he complimented. “Thank you again.” 

She looked down at the watch on her wrist. “I’m actually just finishing up my shift, but there’s no rush or anything.” 

“Oh,” Dylan said, a little disappointed. 

“James,” she said, pointing to the guy standing near the bar,” He’ll take care of anything else you need. Unless there’s something I can get you now?” 

“Uh, I’m good, I think,” he said, looking around the table. “But what about your tip?” 

“Oh! Don’t worry about that. James and I will work that all out later.”

Dylan nodded, more to himself than anything else. “Well, thanks for the suggestions. If this tastes half as good as it smells, we’re in good shape.” 

“I promise, it won’t disappoint.” 

He chuckled. “I like the confidence.” 

She smiled. “Alright, well… enjoy your meal and have a great rest of your evening,” she said, turning to leave. 

“You too,” he winced. “I mean, you too about the evening…” he said, too quiet for her to hear. 

She untied her apron as she headed for the bar, throwing the gate up out of the way and tucking a few things into a drawer. She shared a few words with the bartender, and spoke to James, pointing quickly to his table before she grabbed her jacket and purse from the hook on the wall and headed for the door. 

Dylan finished his meal, deciding to pass on a refill of his beer when James offered. The fish was delicious, as promised, and he didn’t leave a single crumb of the beer batter on his plate. He paid his bill, leaving a sizable tip he hoped would make it to her pocket at some point, and put on his hat as he headed for the parking lot. 

The evening air was cool and crisp, and he found himself wishing he’d brought a hoodie or jacket. He rubbed his hands over his biceps. 

“A little chilly out tonight, isn’t it?” 

Dylan turned to see his original server leaning against the wooden post of the thick rope fence that lined the parking lot. “Uh, yeah. A little,” he said, stumbling over his words. 

“I kind of love this time of year,” she said wistfully, looking up at the star speckled sky. “When it’s cool enough to need a little warmth.” She tucked herself further into her jacket, her hair now hung down her back, no longer tied up in a ponytail.

Dylan smiled over at her and then looked up at the moonless sky. It had been so long since he’d seen so many stars. Light pollution stole them from the sky in L.A. and New York, but here they twinkled against inky black, the milky way dusting the streak behind them. “Mmm, I think you’re onto something there.” He turned his gaze back to her. 

“How was your meal?” She asked, still looking up at the night. 

“Good,” he replied. “Really good.” 

“I’m glad,” she smiled, turning to look at him. 

“Still here, huh?” he asked.

“My drive’s late,” she answered. “As usual.”

He chuckled. She made him smile with the way she scuffed her sneaker through the gravel. “I’m sorry,” he said, moving a little closer, “but I never caught your name.”

“Oh. Sorry! I forgot to introduce myself at the table.” 

“It’s okay.”

“That’s just basic server etiquette,” she stepped away from the post. “I’m Amelia,” she said, dusting off the back of her jeans. 

“Dylan,” he said, with a nod. 

The light coming in from the entryway lit the blush on her cheeks. 

“Ah,” he said, rocking on his heels as he tucked his hands in his pockets. “You recognized me, huh?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Uh… yeah, sorry.” 

“Oh no, don’t apologize,” he said, trying to catch her averted gaze. “I just didn’t think you knew.” A part of him wished she didn’t. “You didn’t treat me like you knew.” 

“Oh God!” she said, walking away with her head in her hands. 

“No, no! Shit. No. That’s not what I meant,” he said, following her. 

She looked more embarrassed than anyone he’d ever seen. 

“Fuck. I’m an ass,” he groaned. He hated how pretentious he’d just made himself sound. “I just meant that you treated me as if I was just anyone off the street. You didn’t make me feel—” He wasn’t making this better.

She looked mortified. 

“You made me feel normal,” he sighed, pulling his hand from his pocket and pressing his hat down further on his head. He didn’t know what else to say. 

The crease in her forehead smoothed. “Well, I wasn’t about to pester you for an autograph… I figured you probably get more than enough of that.”  

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.” 

She turned to face him more directly. “If you’ve managed to find yourself in the middle of God-damn nowhere Nova Scotia, you’re probably not looking to be fawned over.” 

“There would have been fawning?” He teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Like you’re not used to a little fawning,” she jeered.

He laughed a little, rubbing the toe of his shoe into the gravel. “I don’t know that you ever get used to people screaming your name for simply existing.” 

"Huh. I guess not." 

"It's nice to feel… I don't know… like everyone else sometimes." 

"Well, serving tables for a living certainly isn't as glamorous as I make it look," she said straightening the collar of her jacket, "but I can see your point." 

The parking lot suddenly lit with the headlights of a car that had turned in off the road. 

"That's my ride," she said, pressing her lips together into a thin line. 

"Oh." Dylan stepped back out of the way as she walked around to the passenger door. The bright headlights obscuring the driver from view.

"It was nice to meet you, Dylan," she waved, standing behind the open passenger door. 

"Same to you, Amelia."  He gave a small wave back. 

"I hope you enjoy your time here." 

"The 'middle of God-damn nowhere' has been nice so far," he teased.

She smiled and got into the car. It pulled out onto the road, disappearing around the corner.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Authors Note: I meant to get more in here, but I hope you’ll like it ;) Special shout out to @dylanmischief for helping me focus and for pseudo beta reading for me!

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 /  Chapter 12 /  Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 7: Notifications (Dylan POV)

Dylan couldn’t help himself when he flopped down onto his bed that evening, freshly showered and content wearing just a pair of soft boxer briefs. He wanted to know more about this girl he found himself unable to stop thinking about, so he took out his phone and opened Twitter. He clicked on Amelia’s profile: @mia404error. Even her twitter handle was endearing.

She hadn’t been lying though, it was basically a dead page. There were only a handful of tweets, and very few liked tweets, though the most recent like was one of his and he couldn’t help the grin that painted itself across his face. He scrolled through the rest of what was there, but quickly reached her first tweet from 2010:

‘What is the point of this site again?’

His own first tweet was probably something very similar, and he had more than a few friends who still felt that way. “Thomas would love this girl,” Dylan said under his breath. 

He tapped the home button on his phone, closing Twitter and then tapped on Instagram. He had a secret account for lurking. Almost no one knew about it. He mostly used it to keep up to date on his friends that didn’t really use Twitter and uploaded content you could only really watch and see on Instagram. His friends had been nagging him to get it for years, not to mention the hundreds of @ mentions he gets every day on Twitter begging him to make an account, but he wasn’t ready to dive into the mess of more social media to deal with. And TikTok? That was a whole other level of pestering. 

His incognito Instagram was private, and he only had a handful of followers—though he had followed a couple hundred accounts over time—but he wasn’t really looking to scroll through his followed accounts tonight. He clicked on the search button and typed in the name of the nursery: Blooms Nursery. It brought up a couple of pages, and he clicked on a few before he found one that gave the ‘Port Wallace, Nova Scotia’ location, and he immediately recognized the most recent post. It was the photo he’d watched Amelia take that afternoon. The caption read:

Something new was blooming today in the greenhouse!🌸 

#gerberdaisy #botanicalphotography #BloomsNurseryNS #saturdaypost #privatetour

He smiled a bit at the last hashtag. It already had 23 likes and a few comments, so he read through them:

Continue Reading on AO3! 

I’ve migrated the fic over there. If for some reason you’ve been reading along on tumblr and don’t have access to AO3, please let me know. With the content that will be coming in future chapters, I think it is better that it exist there.

Thanks everyone!

Trashy the Trash Panda

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Authors Note: My best-laid plans are always left scattered in ruin. If you’ve lived up to this point thinking raking leaves isn’t a sexy activity, think again ;) Special thanks again to the lovely @dylanmischief !

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 /  Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 8: Exposed (Amelia POV)

The sun was bright in the sky overhead as Amelia stood in her driveway looking up through the scattered canopy of leaves that remained on the old maple that sat in her front yard. They practically shimmered in the slight autumn breeze. Despite the time of year, it was already hot. She was glad she checked the weather, because she wouldn’t normally have put on shorts in October. She rocked on her heels, anxious fingers tucked behind the strap of her shoulder bag. She twisted around and looked at her house, watching her father through the window, standing at the kitchen sink sipping his coffee. 

She took her phone out of her pocket, looking at the time: 10:50 am. She cleared a few annoying and pointless push notifications and then opened her text message history with Dylan. She smiled as she read over the short conversation they’d had the night before. She’d agonized over what to say, or even whether to send the initial message in the first place. She blushed reading one message in particular: 

Dylan: “Oh. I’m counting on it 😏”

She’d practically thrown her phone across the couch when she’d read it. Cupping her hand over her mouth. She was trying to tease him a little, but wasn’t necessarily expecting him to throw it right back at her so quick. She read it about 15 times before she could even bring herself to try to respond. She’d tapped out a few options, all of them quickly deleted, like: 😅, I’ll be counting these 🐑, kjansdkfjnDF, and others before settling on a callback to their earlier conversation. She’d set her phone between her feet with her knees bent up to her chest as she waited for his reply, nervously chewing on the collar of her oversized sleep shirt. And she was relieved when it seemed he found it funny.

When she’d finally plugged her phone in next to the pull-out couch and shut out the lights, she was buzzing, not sure how she’d ever get to sleep. She ran through the entire day over and over in her mind, getting stuck for too long on how his lips had felt on her skin. What was she even doing? This was Dylan O’Brien. I guess the better question was: what was he doing? 

Continue Reading on AO3

I’ve migrated the fic over there. If for some reason you’ve been reading along on tumblr and don’t have access to AO3, please let me know. With the content that will be coming in future chapters, I think it is better that it exist there.

Thanks everyone!

Trashy the Trash Panda

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

I don't want to sound like an impatient asshole but, chapter 11?

I'm workin' on it, cutie. I promise! :)

promise. promise. promise. promise.

I managed to write 1300 words after work today and I hope people will be happy with it. I'm pretty excited about this chapter ;)

Here's a TINY tease of an upcoming scene in FAFLA to tie you over until I have enough time to get it all written:

“So you know this place then, huh?”

Amelia nodded when they reached the door that led up the staircase to the restaurant. “It happens to be my favorite place.”

“I guess I chose well, then,” Dylan smiled and then held open the door for her. “After you.”

Amelia’s cheeks flushed pink and she turned, heading up the stairs.

Dylan tried not to stare at her too much as she climbed, but it was hard not to with her just a few steps ahead. Her legs were something else, really. They were long and lean through the calves, but her thighs were thicker, and her hips sat aside either side of a nice, round butt. Today had really been just full of spectacular views.

When she opened the door at the top of the stairs, the sound of soft music and the smell of alcohol flooded his senses. Despite having seen pictures of the place—that apparently Amelia had taken—Dylan was still a little awestruck by it. It was cozy and fancy in this kind of rustic effortless way that was as far from pretentious as he could imagine. There were only a handful of tables so it felt really quiet and calm. There were oddities and antiques on the built-in shelves and displays, and books piled up in the corners and bookshelves. Everyone was sitting at their tables in quiet conversation, sipping their drinks and eating what looked to be delicious food.

“Table for two?” the bartender asked, wiping a glass and hanging it on a hook above him.

“Uh, yeah, thanks!” Dylan said, stepping around Amelia to stand at her side.

“Just over there,” the bartender smiled, pointing to a small booth in the corner.

Much love!

- Trashy

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {5}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,186 6,485

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I am back!!! Sorry for the delay I just had a really rough go for a couple weeks. Now, an angsty chapter that may wrap up well before shit starts to go down. Message me or send me an ask to be tagged!!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

“Beacon Hills is honestly pretty chill right now, man.” Scott shrugged and ran a hand through his messy hair, looking over at Malia for her to confirm his statement. However, Stiles also knew his dad had told Scott to keep everything that had been going on in Beacon Hills on the down low from Stiles, not wanting him more distracted from school than he would be normally. Malia’s hesitant nod only aided in confirming Stiles’ suspicions. “Seriously!” Scott added when he saw Stiles’ gaze narrow. “Me and Derek got it, we’re like, a power couple?” His voice went up a little bit at the end, making it sound like a question. “Yeah, I think that’s the right term!” He just shrugged afterwards, not really caring if his terminology had been correct or not.

Malia rolled her eyes at Scott, “seriously, Stiles,” she started. “We have everything under control here, you and Lydia should just be concerned about college right now.” Stiles took a deep breath and shook his head, about to tell the pair he could see through their lies when his phone started ringing. 

He quickly jerked his head over to where his phone sat on his bed and squinted, making sure he read the caller ID right. “Who’s that, bro?” Scott asked after seeing his best friend’s confused look.

“Uhh, Finley,” he said, picking up his phone and answering the call. “Hey, everything okay?” Stiles asked, his tone filled with genuine concern. Stiles knew that Finley had been going to see her dad earlier that morning, and he also knew from what she had said the night before that their relationship was slightly strained at the moment to say the least. 

“No. Stiles, I- I need to talk to you.” Her voice cracked towards the end and Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked up to see Scott and Malia watching and listening in confusion. Thank God they couldn’t use their were-hearing to listen in on the phone call, if they could Scott would have even more questions than he already would.

Stiles took in a sharp breath, “okay,” he tried to sound as soothing as possible, now would not be the best time for his anxiety to take over. Well take over noticeably, he already felt himself starting to panic slightly. “Right now, you’re safe though?” He tried to run through questions he knew his dad would as if he received a similar phone call. Stiles heard a small ‘mmhum’ from Finley and let out a sigh of relief. “Do you need me to come get you from somewhere, I can’t drive since I don’t have a car here, but I can come get you.”

“No,” she sniffled. Why would she be crying? “I just think I need to talk to you; can you meet me at my dorm in like an hour and a half?” An hour and a half seemed awfully long when she clearly sounded upset. However, if that’s how long she needed he would agree.

Stiles looked at the clock on his desk and noticed it had already passed noon. The pair had slept in until nearly ten, but he didn’t realize it had already hit noon. By the time he got to her dorm it would be nearly two in the afternoon. “I can do that,” he said, “do you need me to bring anything,”

“No, thank you,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you soon?”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little bit, despite how upset she sounded. He watched Scott raise his eyebrow and smirk and Stiles rolled his eyes at his best friend before responding.  “I’ll see you soon,” he went to pull the phone away from his face before adding, “call sooner if you need anything.” After hearing an ‘okay’ he said goodbye before hanging up. 

Stiles saw Scott and Malia still watching him. “So?” Scott dragged out the word. 

“She asked if I could swing by her dorm in an hour and a half,” Stiles looked down at his phone, confused. “She sounded like she was- crying?” He watched Malia’s face morph into confusion while Scott pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, clearly thinking. Which could be dangerous. At least there wasn’t any smoke coming out of his ears this time. Stiles swore it used to happen in school on occasion.

Stiles sank back into his bed even more than he had been before letting out a long sigh, pulling at the ends of his messy hair. “Uhh,” Scott started, “did anything like happen last night that could trigger a reaction like that?” He asked, clearly trying to help Stiles think over possibilities as to why Finley would be crying and want to see him.

“N- no,” Stiles stuttered out trying to think, “she seemed - well she got upset talking about like couples and how she’s never had a boyfriend or even a fling,” he spoke. “I don’t - I really don’t think talking about this would help my anxiety at all right now so, if we can just not focus on that I’d be happy,” Stiles started fidgeting with his fingers. 

“Yeah, totally man,” Scott smiled. “So, Chris and my Mom last weekend-”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Finley walked into her room and dropped her backpack on her floor, not caring about the new files her father had given her at the office earlier that morning. If they wrinkled in her bag, then so be it. She hadn’t even bothered to ask what they had in them after they had been handed to her. She shoved them into her bag before going off on a ramble about Stiles and how she hated how right everything felt with him. That had been before she got dragged to lunch with her uncle and wound up leaving the restaurant like some type of lunatic though. 

Pulling off her wet long sleeve shirt she dropped it in the middle of the floor with a loud, wet plop and sat down on her desk chair to pull off her jeans that stuck to her legs. She knew that her suitemates would still be out to lunch with a few of the guys on the men’s lacrosse team, so she didn’t care about pushing the bathroom door open in only her bra and underwear, both also soaked through.  

She pulled her bra and underwear off before looking herself over in the mirror. She still felt chilled to the bone from her walk back to campus in the rain, especially since it had been an unusually cold day. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in weeks. She let out a long breath of air and poked at the bags under her eyes. She had gotten the best sleep she had in months the night before, but she couldn’t help but feel absolutely exhausted. Talking about her family tended to do that to her though. It would forever be a topic that mentally drained her, no matter who she talked to about it with.

Finley made sure to lock the bathroom door that led into her suitemates’ room, just in case, before starting the shower, turning the handle to as hot as she knew she could tolerate without burning her skin. It would heal over almost immediately, but blistering her skin never tended to feel great. Stepping into the shower and letting the water run over her body, Finley felt her shoulders drop and her clenched jaw loosen, heaps of tension running out of her body and down the drain with the water. 

Resting her back against the tile wall of the shower, Finley closed her eyes and tried not to cry, tried to continue to let the water wash away her problems, even if it only lasted a few minutes. She wished that the water could wash away the memories she had of the past year and a half of her life, she wished she could replace them with something new, something better. However, she had accepted the past year months earlier, understanding that she couldn’t change things that had already happened. She also learned that dwelling on the memories would just make the recovery longer, harder; that wasn’t something she wanted to do to herself.

Finally opening her eyes again, Finley went through her shower routine slowly, trying to let water relax her tense body even more. After finishing rinsing any trace of suds out of her hair and off her body, Finley turned the water off before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a fluffy towel around herself, thanking her past self for doing laundry yesterday afternoon. She picked up her soaked bra and underwear before wandering back into her room. Closing her blinds, and setting her soaked undergarments in her hamper, Finley then dropped her towel from around her body and used it to dry off her hair, shivering while the cold air wrapped around her again. 

“Hoodie, hoodie, hoodie,” she mumbled to herself while sifting through the things she had hung up in her closet. Finally pulling out one of her old lacrosse hoodies from high school, she threw it on her bed while grabbing clean underwear and a sports bra out of her drawers. After pulling her undergarments and a clean pair of shorts on she plugged in her diffuser and fairy lights before throwing her backpack with the files her dad had given her on her bed. She shrugged on her hoodie and climbed into her bed, taking a moment to compose herself fully. 

Finley pulled one of her throw blankets over her lap before dragging her backpack closer and pulled her phone out of its front pocket and noticed calls from her father and uncle. After sending them both a text assuring them that she had gotten back to her dorm fine, she unzipped the largest pocket of her bag, dragging a heft stack of files out and setting them next to herself. She dropped her backpack on her floor with a quiet thud and pushed her glasses further up her nose, reaching over to her desk to grab her bag of highlighters and different colored pens. She needed to talk to Stiles, but until he got to her room, the files would have to serve as an adequate distraction. 

She grabbed the first folder and noticed that a few staples had made indents that showed through the cover, turning it to the side she read the label on the tab. ‘J. Whittemore’, had been scrawled across the tab in a red sharpie, the handwriting definitely her father’s. She pulled it open and looked at the profile stapled to the inside, chewing on the inside of her cheek while she did so. She noticed something circled in red and her eyes were instantly drawn to it, the rest of the individual’s profile quickly being forgotten. The words ‘Attended Beacon Hills High School’ were those circled in red, the neat Times New Roman font almost mocking her while she read them over and over again.

Pulling the next file over to herself Finley Again read the identification tab, ‘L. Dunbar’. She again opened the folder and saw the same three words circled. Setting her highlighter down she laid all the files out on top of each other, the identification tabs lining up neatly. 

L. Martin. 

I. Lahey. 

K. Yukimura. 

M. Tate. 

M. Hewit.

C. Bryant. 

E. Steiner. 

T. Raeken. 

D. Hale. She paused on that file, her teeth pulling a layer of skin off her bottom lip while she chewed on it. Hale wasn’t exactly a common last name, and Finley would have called herself stupid if she wasn’t the least bit suspicious of what exactly lived inside the files. Deciding to look back at the file after she confirmed her suspicions, Finley read the next identification tab.

S. McCall. Most definitely Scott McCall, she knew that without even opening the file.

M. Stilinski. Stiles hadn’t mentioned his father’s first name in any of their meetings, and she had remembered him stating it had just been him and his dad since he had been ten. So, it had to be a file on his father, but why would her dad need one?

Pulling the file out for ‘D. Hale’, before she even opened it, she knew it would be Derek Hale’s. Finley’s Pack had quite the alliance with the Hale’s, both in New York and California before the fire happened, she knew Derek himself quite well as they weren’t all that far apart in age. After the fire in Beacon Hills though, the Mannulv Pack had lost touch with the Hale family who remained in California, although their alliance with the New York Hale’s remained strong. 

Finley finally flipped the file open, and the identification photo stared back at her, it definitely was a picture of Derek, a much older Derek than she remembered, but still Derek. He no longer had the baby face that Finley remembered from when they had been younger, his features sharper and stubble covering his face. He had most definitely turned into the ‘handsome young man’, that Finley’s mother said he would years ago. She flipped through his entire file, noticing that much of it would be rather unnoteworthy, just normal facts about his life, his family, the fire. Nothing stuck out to Finley other than a warrant for ‘mass murder’ that had been dismissed.

With the Hale’s having once been the most powerful family in the were-community, and with the Mannulv family also having the same status, Finley had brushed shoulders with all of the Hale children when she had been younger. Cian had once looked up to Derek and always tried to talk to the older boy at weddings and other events that caused the two Packs to mingle, however, after the fire, Derek hadn’t been seen at any inter-pack events.

She opted to push Derek’s file aside and pull forward the one labeled ‘S. McCall’, Scott McCall’s file. Scott’s file was clearly the thickest in the pile, and Finley knew most of it would be information she didn’t need or want. She noted that the only thing that stood out had been the bolded line on his identification page stating that he had the current position of Alpha of the McCall pack, having presented as a True Alpha a few years earlier. Finley smirked and stacked Scott’s file on top of Derek’s. Two True Alpha’s meeting would be quite a rarity, but with Finley’s ability to control her territorial instincts and Scott’s rather limited knowledge on werewolf traditions, the pair would have no problem getting along. The other files that Finley’s father had given her had noted at the top of each first page that the individual was a member of the McCall Pack, but they presented to be a rather unusual mix of supernatural creatures.

After stacking all the remaining files together and setting them aside; Finley found her fingers wrapping around the final file, the file labeled ‘M. Stilinski’. She pulled her bottom lip before opening the folder, a picture of Stiles stapled to the cover and the bolded words, ‘Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski’, staring back at her. She quickly snapped the file closed before she picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She pressed on her brother’s contact and hit the call button, her anxiety growing with every second that passed. She hadn’t gotten herself so worked up over something so quickly since her grandmother had told her she needed to move out of the main pack house for the ‘good of the family’. 

She started to gnaw on her bottom lip even harder while she waited for an answer and groaned out loud when she got his voicemail greeting. “Fucking football,” she locked her phone and threw it on her bed. “Why did he have to be good at football!”

She needed something else to distract her, she needed something else to think about. Adding Stile’s file to the top of the pile she pushed herself off her bed and picked up her backpack. With shaky hands she shoved all of the files into the bag before walking over to her closet. Finley found herself pushing her clothes out of the way so she could get to the back corner. She pressed the bag as far into the corner as it could go, as if it would make the files disappear, and pushed everything back in front of it. She still had to tell Stiles everything, she owed him it. She just had to accept that he already knew more than she thought he did. 

Finally, thinking of a distraction, Finley shuffled across her carpet and found herself in front of her wall of pictures. The same one that Stiles had been looking at the day before, admiring even. The thought of someone admiring the pictures of her and her family from the past year made her queasy, if only they all knew what had been going on. She swallowed thickly before looking at some of the pictures. Prom, nationals for her travel lacrosse team, all of her brother’s official college visits, she had plenty of good memories hung up on her wall. She would never deny that the wall had been filled with majority good memories. However, she also tried to hang up things that would make it seem as if she had a normal family life. It all felt fake, like she had put a huge lie up on display for anyone who entered her room to see. 

She had so many pictures of her family hung up, so many pictures she had to force herself to smile in, had to force herself to appear happy and healthy for. Pictures of her family in the pack house for birthday’s. Movie nights she had with her cousins before she moved into the guest cabin. She saw a picture of her entire family at the lake on their property for her and Cian’s birthday the previous year. After tearing her eyes away from the wall, Finley actually had to keep herself from getting nauseous at the memory. The twins’ last birthday at home had been a couple of months after they found out Finley had presented as a True Alpha and her grandmother hadn’t wanted to invite her to the party at all that day. She had only planned on throwing a party for Cian and had wanted to let Maxwell handle Finley, the animosity between Finley and her grandmother still too strong. The wounds were still too fresh.

Finley pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again and shuffled over to her desk, opening the top drawer she saw the pack of pushpins she had purchased to hang the photos up sitting right on top. Taking the plastic container between her hands she set it on the heating unit in front of her window, flipping the safety latch and opening it. Without thinking her hands started moving on her wall, pulling colored pushpins out of the corners of various pictures, letting the photos fall to the floor and putting the pushpins back in the right section of the container according to their colors. 

Finley had just pulled the last pushpin out of a picture from her sweet sixteen when she heard a knock on the door. She quickly turned on her heel, ignoring the tears she felt quickly gathering in the corners of her eyes, and set her foot flat on to the ground. “Motherfucker!” She felt a push-pin stick into the ball of her foot. Pulling it out she threw it in the garbage can before pausing near her door.

Stiles’ heartbeat sounded fast, too fast to write off as elevated just from him walking over to her dorm from his. He smelled like pure anxiety and nerves, she noticed it seeping under the door causing her face to scrunch up in disgust; anxiety had always been Finley’s least favorite of the emotions to be able to pick up on. It smelled tangy and sour, sometimes people’s anxiety would be so strong she swore she could taste it; like rotten lemons mixed with curdled milk. Putting her hand on the cool metal handle of her door she closed her eyes and felt the lock pop as it opened. There would be no going back now. “Hey, sorry to like,” she looked down at her feet while she opened the door, “do this,” why did she want to cry?

“No!” Stiles cleared his throat, waving his hands in front of himself. “I mean,” he sighed, “don’t be sorry, okay? I wasn’t sure if you were okay when you called and I just wanted to make sure you were,” he stepped into Finley’s dorm when she backed away from the door to let him in. He immediately noticed pictures scattered carelessly across her floor, some face up and some face down. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to where they were scatted in the room, and he noticed her wall of photos seemed to be mostly empty compared to yesterday. Did her make her uncomfortable looking at them? Oh god, he hoped not. She didn’t seem to mind then, but what if that had just been her being polite? Stiles took in a deep breath and turned back to Finley who still stood with her door open. 

Sighing, Finley closed her door and Stiles watched her pick up a soaked gray hoodie from on her empty desk and she hung it on the hook on the back of her door, a few drops of water falling off the sleeve cuffs. A pair of wet sneakers had been kicked into the corner of her room and a towel hung off the post of her bed. “I just- I got into it with my dad and uncle earlier,” she mumbled, bending down to pick up some of the photos on her carpet. Stiles tried to gauge her mood but couldn’t quite put his thumb on her emotions. Angry. Upset. Hurt. He wasn’t quite sure.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stiles kneeled to pick up some of the photos Finley hadn’t yet collected, it seemed like a better solution than standing in her room awkwardly waiting for her to speak. He heard her let out a shaky sigh as she stood up, putting the photos in her hand on her bed. Stiles followed her actions and put the photos he had on top of her pile. Finley climbed into her bed and patted the mattress next to her.

Stiles toed off his shoes and left them on the edge of her carpet, momentarily wiggling his sock covered toes into the soft material of her carpet. He shuffled across the carpet and pushed himself up on to Finley’s bed, a dull ache from his first week of lacrosse still pulling at his muscles. He made sure that he left a comfortable distance between them, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, although she had seemed perfectly comfortable with him the night before. “I don’t exactly want to,” he watched her pull her bottom lip between her teeth, “but I feel like we need to. Sooner rather than later,” she added the last part after a small pause. 

“Finley, if you’re not com-”

“I’m never going to be comfortable talking about who, or I guess what I am. I’m never going to be comfortable talking about my family,” she saw Stiles open his mouth but cut him off, “but sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone to set things right in life, Stiles.” She crossed her legs and turned to face him, her lip pulled between her bottom lip and a tight crease formed in her forehead while she started flipping through the photos that sat between them.

Stiles watched her shaky fingers flip through the photos, pausing on some for a few seconds before flipping to the next.

Eventually she settled on one, it pictured a large group of people, and she turned it face down between them. “So,” she looked up at him through the lenses of her glasses, her eyes red from crying and small bags starting to form under them. “I don’t really want to scare you away or anything, but uhh my family is kind of umm,” she trailed off, “unique.”

“Unless your family is running some super-secret and super fucked up cult I don’t think you can scare me away,” he laughed to try and lighten the mood. “You don’t know a lot about Beacon Hills,” he added to the end.

He watched Finley’s eyes widen before she let out a long sigh, “actually,” she said the word so quietly Stiles almost didn’t hear it. Did her family really run a super-secret, fucked up cult? “Y’know how my dad works for the CIA?” Stiles nodded slowly, wondering where Finley could possibly be taking the conversation. “Well, as you’ll find out one day. A lot of ‘conspiracy theories’ are true, and a lot of the time, the CIA is working on these things that people will tout as not possible, but you knew that already.”

“Okay,” Stiles dragged the word out, unsure where the conversation would head next. Hopefully it didn’t hang a left down Psycho Lane. “Like aliens being real or the concept that the world is really run by a singular governmental unit?” He offered two of the theories he knew were tossed around the internet quite often. Once he noticed a small smile pulled at the corner of Finley’s lips, he knew he had slightly diffused the tension in the room for a moment.

“Well,” she swallowed. “I can tell you I know who Scott McCall is, and I know Derek Hale uhh personally-” she trailed off for a few seconds. “And I know all about Scott’s Pack, your Pack” she flipped over the photo, Stiles’ heart beating even faster. “And I know that this is my Pack,” Stiles scanned the picture over, “well some of my Pack, that’s my immediate family.” There were probably about twenty people gathered around a lake, all squished very close together and smiling brightly. All except for Finley. She had a wide smile in the picture, but it wasn’t genuine. She didn’t have the usual dimples she would get when she actually smiled, and it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Finley pulled a few more pictures out of the pile and laid them out “I know that my dad and his four brothers are weres, that my grandma gave my grandpa the bite right before they got married.” She pointed to a picture of six individuals in front of the same lake, parents and four young boys all squished close together in it. They all looked strikingly similar, even for siblings.

“Who’s who?” Stiles found himself asking, leaning closer to Finley so he could see the picture better. He heard Finley take in a deep breath before she pulled another picture out of the pile. It pictured her in a short red cupcake dress that seemed to be covered in crystals, four men gathered around her and a wide smile on all of their faces. 

“Obviously,” she pointed to the man to her left, “that’s my dad. That’s my uncle Cayden,” she pointed to the man on her right, “next to my dad is Jordan and then next to Cayden is Todd.” She let out a quiet sigh before tucking the picture back into the pile. Stiles just nodded slowly, processing all the information.

A comfortable silence fell between the two while Finley flipped through pictures again, picking out another before she started talking. “I can tell you that most of my cousins are also weres and so are their kids,” she handed him a picture of her and Cian laying on the floor under a pile of younger kids. He saw adults laughing in the background and assumed those were the younger kids’ parents. There were so many kids in the photo, he had counted a baker’s dozen, that he wasn’t quite sure how anyone could handle them, but then again werewolf packs tended to share the child rearing duties. Stiles had done extensive research when Scott had first been turned, so he knew much more than he would usually admit. 

“And the pups are absolutely adorable when they chase you around full shift, like little puppies just learning to walk,” she flashed Stiles a picture of two wolf pups, her younger cousins, and even when they puppy pile you on the floor they’re kind of cute.” He saw a fond smile grace her face, obviously attached to the younger kids in her family. “I took care of them pretty often, I mean when my grandma still trusted me,” her smile faded. 

She grabbed a picture of her and Cian together, laying out in the middle of a large field, the almost full moon bright in the sky above them. “I can also tell you that Cian and I also happen to be weres ourselves, even though my mom never took the bite from my grandma, our Alpha.”

Finley looked up to Stiles when she finished speaking, her hands shaking much less and her anxiety decreasing with each breath she took. She noticed that Stiles’ heart still beat unusually fast, but he didn’t smell like anxiety anymore. His scent had returned to the one she had found comfort in the day before, he smelled warm and welcoming, she wanted to roll in that scent and never forget it. “So,” Stiles trialed off, picking up the photo of her family and looking it over. “You’re like all born wolves?” He asked.

Finley laughed lightly when he didn’t freak out, knowing she definitely wanted to keep him around now. “For the most part,” she let out a long sigh, “a couple of my aunts took the bite from my grandma and others didn’t.” She started flipping through pictures again. “But that’s my pack. That’s more of what a typical pack would look like, if you compare it to Scott’s obviously.” She watched Stiles set down the photo and he turned to face her. “And I totally understand if you want to like, not talk other than for the project just that had been eating away at me for a few weeks. Especially with Scott coming to visit soon, I didn’t want you to find out then because once we met it would be a dead giveaway. I just needed to tell you, it felt wrong not to, especially when you already know about our little world.”

Finley watched Stiles sink further back into her mattress while he shook his head, “I’ll stay,” he offered a smile, “as long as you get me that magic heating pad again?” Finley laughed and nodded, pushing herself off the bed and grabbing the heating pad from where she had left it on her floor that morning. She plugged it into her extension cord and handed it to Stiles before climbing back into her bed.

“Y’know, if you want me to like, take away the pain I’m able to do that right?” She offered. She saw Stiles’ eyes widen and he adjusted the heating pad on his back. His heartbeat had slowed down some, but it wasn’t quite at a normal resting rate yet, she assumed his discomfort contributed slightly. Finley assumed that his heart beating slightly father though would probably be normal, considering he had just found out he never really would be escaping the supernatural that he lived with in Beacon Hills. 

He closed his eyes and knotted his fingers together on his stomach, a sated smile on his face. “So, all of you are able to do that?” Finely crawled closer and let out a quiet hum in acknowledgement. 

“Some are better at it than others though,” she set her left hand over his that were clasped together, she felt her wolf dying to get even closer to Stiles in the back of her mind but pushed it away. “I learned really fast,” she watched Stiles’ pain climb up her arm and watched it fade under the rolled-up sleeve of her hoodie. “Took my brother a lot longer to learn that it took me.” Once she saw Stiles relax fully into her mattress and noticed his heart rate seemed normal again, she moved her hand off his despite her wolf trying to push her to be even closer to him still. 

Stiles opened one of his eyes to look at her, watching her crawl off her bed with her photos in hand. A comfortable silence fell between the pair and Stiles watched Finley slide a drawer on her one desk open. He noticed that Finley would look at each photo before she would place it inside the drawer, pausing longer on some than others. “So,” he opened both his eyes now and watched her closely, “why’d you take them all down?” He watched her pause for a second, bending the corner of the photo currently on top. 

“Complicated family dynamics,” she dumped the rest of the photos into the drawer without looking at any and closed it. “I uhh-” Finley sighed. “I don’t get along too well with some people in my family,” she shrugged and crawled into her bed again, lifting the blanket so she could slide her legs under it. 

Stiles sat up and lifted his side of her comforter, sliding underneath himself before settling the heating pad on his lower back again. He wasn’t in pain anymore, but the heat brought him a strange sense of comfort. “Like cousins or?” 

“Damn, digging deep already,” Finley let out a quiet laugh that Stiles barely heard while she grabbed an extra pillow to lean against. “Well, you know how pack dynamics work somewhat, I’m sure,” she looked over to Stiles and he just nodded. 

“Alphas and Betas and all that,” he added, hoping to ease Finley’s nerves slightly. “Scott’s an Alpha, Liam’s his Beta.”

“Scott’s a True Alpha,” Finley quickly corrected him. “Pretty rare if you want the facts about it,” she pulled at the loose strings of her comforter that covered her lap. Stiles could tell she wanted to tell him something but couldn’t find the words to say whatever it was, but he wouldn’t push her into territory she would be uncomfortable in. “Most packs don’t work that way, a true Alpha turning a Beta and so on, most are pretty structured. Throw in a True Alpha and forget it,” she snapped her fingers, “pack order and unity gone.”

Stiles sat up and decided to lean against the wall next to Finley, their legs close enough to touch if either decided to move even a fraction of an inch. Stiles felt oddly drawn to Finley, the night before had been the best he slept since moving into American. With Finley so close to him again he felt strangely safe, comfortable, and relaxed. “So, most packs work like the Hale’s did?” He asked, watching Finley’s reactions. He noticed her stiffen slightly before nodding.

“My Pack is a lot older than the Hale Pack, but similar enough,” she replied. “My grandma, my dad’s mom, is the Alpha right now, her dad before her was the Alpha but he didn’t have any sons, so his daughter took over when he was ready to transfer his power.” She shifted closer to Stiles and felt her leg bump into his, she waited for him to move away, but he didn’t. She let the warmth from his body calm her wolf slightly and let out a long sigh. “So, by tradition my grandma’s oldest son would take the pack after she passed,” Finley trailed off.

Stiles turned his head so he could see her better, “but?” he asked curiously, knowing there would be a but based on Finley’s body language and tone. 

“But that position isn’t up for grabs really anymore,” she quickly pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. “When a pack that already has an Alpha also has a True Alpha in it, that True Alpha will take the Alpha’s position when they pass or decide to pass on their powers,” Stiles watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath in, a few tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. 

Without really thinking, Stiles wrapped his arm around Finley’s shoulders, pulling her into his side. Her head fell on to his shoulder and he hear her stifle a laugh, “we don’t have to keep talking about this y’know?” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” she reached up to grab his hand that hunger over her shoulder. Stiles watched as she started to absentmindedly play with his fingers before she started speaking again, “so when I presented as a True Alpha before I turned seventeen,” she trailed off for a moment.  “It kind of caused some complications in the family, but everyone got over it but my grandma.” 

Stiles just nodded along, still watching Finley play with his fingers while she thought, the silence between the two a comfortable one. “Really?” he asked after the silence had been stretched out longer, “she knows who’s next in line, she can help you learn,” he added.

Finley let out a mix between a snort and a laugh and turned so she could see him better. “Wow, someone else here thinks logically,” she rested her head on his shoulder, resuming playing with his fingers. “I’ve tried to explain that to her y’know? She didn’t get it though.” 

“It’s the most logical explanation!” Stiles stated matter-of-factly, “how could she not understand that?” He shook his head. “I thought that Alpha’s were supposed to be smart, but Scott is obviously another exception to that rule.”

Finley just laughed quietly as Stiles talked, “I really need to keep you around now,” she mumbled.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Stiles placed a kiss to the top of Finley’s head, the action feeling natural. “It may not have been what I expected, but I’ve adjusted before and I can adjust again,” he rested his chin on the top of Finley’s head, a comfortable slice falling around them again.

Finley felt herself let out a happy rumble, deep from within her chest, something that hadn’t happened in over a year. She knew Stiles would be staying now and it had settled her wolf, something no one had been able to do since the day she presented as a True Alpha. They would most definitely need to have the ‘mates talk’ sooner rather than later, but for now Finley finally felt content and happy. She deserved to bask in the feeling for a little while, she really deserved it.Tagging those who have expressed interest: @stixnstripesworld​ @kellysashcroft​

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {4}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret 

Masterlist 

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,224 6,737

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Part Four!!! Uhh lots of angst and a lot about Finley’s past. Also Scott makes an appearance. 

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Finley woke up when she felt a body shift underneath her, a small groan slipping past the lips of whoever she had been sleeping on. Whoever she had been sleeping on? Finally, remembering what had happened with Stiles, Finley let out a small gasp and sat up, smacking her knee on the wall in the process.

“Fuck!”

“Oh God are you okay?”

Their voices came out at the same time and Finley sighed, leaning her head against the cool wall of her room. Stiles’ body had felt incredibly warm against her, and while the cool wall helped calm her nerves, she wanted to curl back up on him and fall asleep again “What time is it?” She cleared her throat and tried to find her glasses. She didn’t remember taking them off.

“Like two-thirty?” Stiles squinted as his phone screen lit up, “here,” he handed her the glasses she had been looking for. “You know I haven’t seen you with them before today, yesterday, whatever you want to call it,” he pointed out.

Finley thumbed at a smudge on the lenses and sighed. Her eyesight had been the one werewolf perk she had missed out on. Her dad had passed it off as a human gene she had gotten form her mother somewhere along the way and took Finley to an optometrist when she had been complaining of blurry vision at a young age. “I wear contacts usually,” she yawned, her nose crinkling up while she did. She watched Stiles sink back into the pillows while she climbed over him and off the bed. She quietly shuffled her way across her room to unplug her lights, making sure she set the plug down carefully on the floor.

“Well, they suit you,” Stiles mumbled, staring up at the ceiling while he rubbed at his eyes before yawning. Finley smiled and ran her fingers along the arm of her glasses, a feeling of happiness bubbling up inside her with his words.

Finley turned off the TV also and let the soft glow of the streetlight outside her window guide her back to her bed. “Are you feeling any better?” Stiles asked.

Finley sat at the edge of her bed letting out a yawn herself, “yeah. I’m- I’m sorry about that,” she whispered. “I uhh-” she trailed off, “I’m not usually like that,” she settled on. She looked over to Stiles whose eyes were trained on her figure. Even in the dark she could see him rather clearly, and she knew he had his eyes on her.

“Well, it’s okay to y’know. Have emotions,” he spoke into the darkness of the room. Finley scoffed at his response and closed her eyes, she still felt physically exhausted, and mentally drained. “I was just trying to help,” he added. Finley pulled her socks off and paired them together, putting them on her desk. “And it’s too late for me to leave now,” he added.

Finley sighed and pushed off her bed again. “I’ll take the floor, you can take the bed,” she said walking over to her closet to get an extra blanket.

“Or-” Stiles sat up, “you can come lay here again because I think the whole physical contact thing was really helping both of us sleep better, and all my friends back home know I’m a very touchy person,” he cocked his head to the side.

“But-”

“Lydia wouldn’t care and I’m planning on breaking up with her when she visits anyway,” Stiles ran a hand over his face and rubbed at the stubble on his chin, he had really just said that Finley wasn’t dreaming. “Now that that’s on the table, come lay down.” Stiles didn’t leave much room for Finley to argue, and quite frankly, she wasn’t complaining about that. Finley dropped the extra blanket in her hands and sighed, walking back to her bed, and crawling over Stiles to settle where she had been sleeping earlier.

Stiles watched as Finley climbed back into her bed while he adjusted the pillows so they both had plenty of room. She pulled her glasses off and reached over him to settle them on the dresser next to his phone and their half-eaten food. She let out a small sigh while she settled down next to him. “Before it just, kind of happened, I’ve never like,” she stuttered out.

“Here,” Stiles knew what she had been trying to say and laid down flat, straightening his arm out along the pillows and pulling Finley closer. He felt her head come to rest on his chest and his arm curled around her back, rubbing circles into her side over her shirt.    

She let out a shaky breath and Stiles watched her eyes slip closed while she rested her hand flat on his abdomen. “Thank you, Stiles,” she spoke quietly.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he replied before closing his eyes.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Finley paced the tiled floors of her dad’s office, her claws digging into her palms and the heel of her Under Armor sneakers squeaking whenever she turned on her left foot. Maxwell sat quietly behind his desk, watching his daughter’s movements, and waiting for her to settle down. Neither party was unfamiliar with this course of actions, and both knew they just had to wait out Finley’s pacing while her brain processed her thoughts. “I don’t understand it dad!” She turned around to face her father, finally sinking into the leather chair that faced his large oakwood desk. She held her palms out and noticed that they were bleeding. Back to old, and bad, habits. Finley rested her palms up on her dad’s desk to show him the already healing cuts.

“What don’t you understand, Finley?” He asked while handing her a small towel. Maxwell and Finley had always been close, Finley had been a typical ‘daddy’s girl’, and once they started working together, they only grew closer. Taking a deep breath and watching her claws retract Finley looked up to her father. “Your eyes are still red, dear,” the statement dripped with sarcasm.

“Yeah, and I’m still full of pent-up anxiety,” she retorted, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she looked in the mirror next to her dad’s desk to see them back to their normal blue. Maxwell laughed lightly while he watched his daughter wipe the blood off her hands off, the claw marks already healed fully and her skin showing no sign that the marks were ever there.

“I can smell it,” he laughed lightly.

“Thanks dad,” Finley glared at him, “but to answer your question, I don’t understand anything right now,” she ran her fingers through her hair, wavy from the tight braids she had in it the night before. She hadn’t wanted to confront Stiles after they woke up that morning and had spent extra time in the bathroom taking her braids out.

Maxwell let out a long sigh while he stood up, walking over to his bookshelf lined wall, running his fingers over the spines of the books, obviously looking for a specific one. He ran his fingers over several incredibly old looking books before his fingers settled on one that was entirely black. Finley watched him wrap her fingers around the top of the book before he pulled it out. “Here,” he set it down on his desk and flipped it open, some dust flying off the pages while he flipped through. “Read it.” He turned the book around to face his daughter. The text had been printed in Latin, but luckily for Finley, her dad had subjected the twins to hours upon hours of Latin lessons when they were younger. Something about being ‘connected with family roots’ and learning Latin being a ‘rite of passage’ in their family.

Finley saw the word at the top of the page, ‘Mates’, printed in the fanciest script she had ever seen. “Nope!” She told her dad, pushing the book back. “Let’s show you all that money you spent on foreign language classes for me, and Cian paid off. Non, Nein, Net, Ne, and again, No.”

“Finley Louella!” Maxwell raised his voice and Finley simply sat back, flashing her red eyes at her father, testing him to actually try and tell her what to do. “I keep forgetting that doesn’t work on you anymore,” he let out a long sigh. “Just please consider it, you know your brother and Clara are-”

“Okay and Cian is the perfect son! Finley replied, “he’s not testy, he listens to whatever you say, he can live in the same house as the rest of the pack, and on top of it he’s planning on getting engaged this year for God’s sake!” She stood you and started pacing the room again, the periodic squeaking from her sneaker filling the room again. “I just! I don’t have a mate, dad! I’m not- I’m not that kind of person.” She looked out the window and noticed how rain still fell outside. If she got lucky practice would be cancelled and she could wallow in her own anxiety and pity for the rest of the day after work.

  Maxwell laughed lightly and closed the book, pushing it to the end of his desk. “You know, your mom was a human too, Finley,” he said quietly. “And I met her my sophomore year of high school, I just felt inexplicably drawn to her.”

“I’ve heard the story before dad,” Finley grumbled and glanced at her parent’s wedding photo that sat on her father’s desk. “I just, I don’t think there’s always a mate made for everyone,” she sighed. Maxwell let out a long sigh of his own, opting to give the topic up for the time being, instead he turned to the files on his desk.

“On another topic,” Maxwell thought shifting to something else may make his daughter happier, “I don’t want to say you’re right,” her dad turned a thick file towards her, the folder open, pictures of a green-ish, wrinkled figure with pointed teeth inside.

“It was a Djinn!” Finley grabbed the file and picked up the pictures. “I had been saying that for months!” She smiled and flipped through the pictures, each one confirming the suspicions she had for months more and more. She closed the folder and noticed the word ‘closed’ stamped across the folder in red ink.

Maxwell watched his daughter’s face drop and sighed, so much for that attempt at cheering her up. “Finely,” he started, “I- you know we couldn’t wait to act on this case.” He told her. Maxwell looked up and offered his daughter an apologetic smile, noticing the disappointment spreading across her face. “We couldn’t wait for you to be able to go back out to Nevada to finish the case and-”

“And this- this right here,” she threw the file on to her dad’s desk. “This is why I didn’t want to go to college!” Finley knew she acted unreasonably on occasion, but it truly had been the only way she could get her feelings across for years now.

Maxwell stood up, and flashed his fangs at his daughter, his look telling her that she should check her tone. It being the only show of power he really had left against his daughter. Early on Maxwell’s family, as well as his late wife’s, had informed the couple that Finley would, with no doubt, eventually present as a True Alpha. The couple had brushed it off for years, just contributing Finley’s actions and mood to her ‘strong willed’ personality type. However, when his daughter had eventually presented as a True Alpha, a couple months short of the twin’s seventeenth birthday, there had been a rift that formed in the family.

Maxwell belonged to his parents’ pack, with his mother being known as one of the most powerful Alphas east of the Rocky Mountains. Maxwell’s wife had taken the bite shortly before they were married, and with luck they had a set of twins, both who proved to be werewolves themselves. Finley had taken on the role of ‘the boss’ in the pack’s home almost as soon as she could speak and eventually all the other children who lived in the house found their place behind her.

Maxwell and his mother had sat down with Finley after her thirteenth birthday and had described in detail the power and responsibility that would come with being an Alpha. Finley had brushed the conversation off at the time, informing her father and grandmother that she ‘didn’t have it in her’ to kill someone else to take their Alpha status and she also decided that True Alphas were too rare for her to become one. She hadn’t considered that her grandmother, eventually, wanted to pass her power down to Finley.

Once she had presented as a True Alpha upon returning home from a particularly dangerous undercover job that her father had allowed her to take the reins on; a rift quickly started to form in the Mannulv Pack’s home. There had been a fight for power between Finley and her grandmother which had resulted in Finley moving into the guest cabin for most of her senior year of high school, deciding it would be the healthiest option for the entire pack.

After Cian had gotten into a fight with his father and one of his uncles about the mistreatment of his sister he decided to announce once they both finished college, he would be joining Finley’s pack with Clara. Splitting a pack obviously hadn’t been Finley’s intention. However, with her grandmother’s temper being so volatile there wasn’t another option. The Mannulv Pack simply couldn’t have two Alpha’s living in the same household without it ending in both verbal and physical fights.

“Finley you know it wasn’t about you being in college,” Maxwell sighed looking at his daughter, who eagerly waited to interject her opinion.

Finley sunk back down into her chair and opted to rip apart the towel her father had given her with her claws instead of ripping up her palms again. “Okay fine, but you could have at least told me after you had closed the case instead of waiting,” she opened the folder and looked for the date it had been closed, “a week and a half for me to find out myself.”

“And you should be more concerned about your education for now,” Maxwell held up a finger to keep his daughter from cutting him off. “But I think the whole mate thing has you a little bit on edge right now. I know you don’t like talking to your grandmother-” Maxwell watched Finley’s lip curl at the mention of her. “If you give me a minute,” he laughed, “I was going to suggest lunch with your uncle.”

“I have like, four uncles on your side, that’s helpful,” Finley gave Maxwell a deadpan look.

“Your uncle Cayden,” Maxwell watched his daughter’s face peak with interest. “And he suggested Quarry House.”

Finley closed the file and shoved it across her father’s desk. “Okay, why are we still sitting here?” She grabbed her dad’s car keys off the ring by his office’s door and threw them to him. “And don’t give me the ‘I’m working’, crap. It’s Saturday you most definitely are working on your own time right now so let’s go!” Maxwell laughed and caught the keys to his own Range Rover, picking up his jacket and following Finley out of his office.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Stiles sat at his desk, a container of food from one of the on-campus dining locations in front of him, and a pencil in his free hand. He had been trying to finish his homework for his statistics class but couldn’t seem to focus on much of anything. Instead, he found himself typing out a message to Scott, asking if his best friend had time to video chat. Not even a minute later Stiles watched as a Skype call from Scott started coming through his laptop.

Feeling a smile pull at his lips, Stiles slid his pencil behind his ear and answered the call. “Hey!” Scott’s face was entirely too close to the screen and Stiles laughed hearing Malia tell him to ‘move back dumbass’ in the background. “Ahh the lady is over, hey Mal!” Stiles spoke while Scott moved back from his computer. Scott sat cross-legged on his bed, looking exhausted but still content, but girls seemed to have that effect on the True Alpha. A dopey smile pulled at his lips and his hair sat tousled on top of his head.

“Full moon was last night, man,” Scott shrugged, “gotta take the energy out somehow.” Stiles fake gagged and he heard Malia laugh loudly from somewhere in Scott’s room.

Stiles shoved another bite of food into his mouth, “I don’t need to know any more about your sex life than I already do,” he mumbled through the food. “That goes for you too, Malia!”

Scott sank back into his pillow and ran his hand over the stubble covering his chin with a guilty smile. “Speaking of sex lives,” Malia climbed into bed with Scott and sat halfway on his lap. She clearly had one of his t-shirts and the couple looked like they had woken up not too long ago. As much as Stiles had loved the time he had been in a relationship with Malia, he was more than glad she and Scott could make each other happy now. “Scott said you were staying with some girl last night,” she raised one of her eyebrows.

“Scott!” Stiles groaned and the werewolf in question just raised his hands in surrender. Letting out a long sigh Stiles set his plastic fork down and picked up his water bottle. “First,” he turned his head, so it appeared as if he faced Malia, “we did not have sex. Second I’m still in a relationship with Lydia-”

“Who you’re planning on breaking up with when me and her come to visit,” Scott cut him off.

Stiles waved his hand to dismiss Scott’s comment. Stiles knew he planned to break up with Lydia soon, and he knew most of his friends knew that already because Scott can’t keep his mouth shut. In his mind though, it still felt wrong to talk about.

Lydia had been his dream girl since third grade, and after the events with the Ghost Riders, he felt more than lucky to have finally gotten to call her his girlfriend. However, the charm of their relationship had worn off quite quickly. Sure, the sex had been great and so had their friendship beforehand, but they were just too intellectually similar to have a stable and long-lasting relationship together.  Stiles knew breaking up with her would be the best decision for them both in the long run, but he still dreaded it.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me Scott,” he sighed. “Can I continue with my train of thought now?” Stiles watched Malia slap a hand over Scott’s mouth and Scott must have licked her hand because she pulled it away and wiped her palm on his cheek. “Ew,” Stiles mumbled.

Scott and Malia both turned back to the computer with guilty smiles. “Sorry, Stiles,” Scott gave his best ‘puppy-dog-pout’, probably hoping that it could somehow get Stiles to ignore his and Malia’s flirting. “You know how it can be sometimes,” he added. Stiles felt a small pull in his chest, but nodded, nonetheless.

“I get it, no worries,” Stiles hoped Scott couldn’t pick up on how upset he felt though the computer. “But yeah, I went over to her dorm, err suite, to work on that project for intro to law,” he held up the folder full of documents he had printed. “And I felt terrible from lacrosse, because they show no mercy here apparently,” he saw Scott crack a smile, “yeah, yeah. Not all of us magically heal!”

Scott started to laugh, and Malia kicked him in the shin. “Jerk, listen to Stiles,” she mumbled.

“Thank you, Malia,” Stiles spoke. “Anyway, she insisted it would be fine if we didn’t work on it, she showed me how amazing a heating pad can be for sore muscles, and then we ordered dinner. Somewhere after that I found out she looks just like her mom, and apparently it’s normal to keep booze in your dorm?” That last part came out as more of a question. “Uhh she’s hot, like H-O-T, hot, found out she’s never had a boyfriend, somehow.  She actually got ditched by the guy she was into at prom for his ex-”

“What an asshole,” Scott interjected. Scott who seemed amused by Stiles’ rambling, and he would let Stiles ramble as long as he needed to if it would help him work out his feelings for this new girl he had found. Although Stiles lived across the country now, he still held his place as a member in Scott’s pack. And as an Alpha, Scott felt partly responsible for the happiness of his packmates.

Stiles nodded, “right?” He ran his hands through his hair and leaned back more in his desk chair. “But then she kinda had a little emotional meltdown and I offered physical comfort, then she wound up dozing off and I felt bad waking her up to leave and I fell asleep too. Somewhere around two-thirty we woke up, I admitted I planned on breaking up with Lydia, she got a little skittish and then we fell asleep again.” Stiles let out a long breath of air from his nose after he finished speaking.  Scott took a moment to process all of what Stiles had just said and looked over at Malia, seeing if she wanted to speak first.

Scott closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking, knowing he had to speak first. “And you feel this strong for this girl after only a week of knowing her?” Scott asked. He knew there were hook-ups that happened in college, but this, this wasn’t just a hook-up. Scott knew Stiles well enough to understand that much.

“Finley,” Stiles started with. “Her name’s Finley, but yeah. I just feel so drawn to her and I can’t pinpoint why I do.” Stiles knew something just felt right with Finley, he knew it the moment he had sat next to her in class, but he couldn’t figure out the why. Not knowing the why had been driving him crazy since Monday. Stiles didn’t like not knowing the ‘why’ in life. Finley was attractive, that couldn’t be disputed, but it wasn’t just her looks that had Stiles absolutely enthralled with her. When they were together it just felt right, the type of right he can’t explain.

  Malia looked at Scott and took her opportunity to speak, “sometimes you just know when you meet the right person,” she shrugged. “And no one’s denying you that, Stiles,” she looked at Scott who had hooked his chin over her shoulder. “But you haven’t even broken up with Lydia yet. You don’t know how you’re going to feel after you do.”

“I mean, I agree with her Stiles,” Scott interjected. “I’m going to be there when you do break up with Lydia, but I can’t move into your dorm and stay in D.C. afterwards if you get too sad.” Scott was only partly joking; as closed off and reserved Stiles could be, everyone knew that he when he felt he felt deeply.

Stiles sighed but nodded at the same time. He knew that Malia and Scott were right, but he also knew that he didn’t want to let Finley slip through his fingers when she was currently right in front of him, he’d never let that one go if he lost her so quickly. “All I can promise you two is that I’ll try and move slowly. Okay?” Stiles saw a look of disapproval cross Scott’s face, but he quickly switched the topic.

“So there’s this new beta working at the station and-”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Maxwell and Finley walked into The Quarry House Tavern and saw Maxwell’s youngest brother, Cayden, waiting for them in the overflow area. Cayden stood up with a bright simile and walked over to hug Finley, who enthusiastically returned his embrace. Cayden smelled like the pack house, he smelled like home, he smelled like all the relationships she wanted so desperately to rebuild but knew she couldn’t. He had been the uncle Finley was closest to growing up, while he was so much younger than his other siblings, and still in a different stage in life when the twins were born, it allowed them to form more of a relationship with the youngest of their father’s siblings.

“How’s college going, pup?” Cayden asked Finley once they had been seated.

Finley whined in the back of her throat. “I’m eighteen Cay,” she huffed out, flipping the page on her menu. “M’not a pup anymore. But it’s going fine,” she looked at her uncle over the menu.

Maxwell sat silent while he flipped through his own menu. Cayden raised his eyebrows at his niece before setting down his own menu, “and that’s why you smell like a boy?” He asked suspiciously.

“Dad!

“I took you here to talk to Cayden, Finley,” Maxwell still didn’t look up from his menu. “And I hope you’ll do so.” Finley took a deep breath and willed herself to keep her emotions in-check, especially the day after the full moon. She always felt extra emotional in the two days leading up to and after the full moon, and sometimes she found herself acting on feelings she knew she shouldn’t, whether it be with compassion or anger.

Cayden thanked their waiter who set down glasses of water in front of the trio, all three of them putting their orders in also. Finley made sure to order something large and messy so she would be able to limit her time speaking. “So?” Cayden asked again. “Your dad said something about you having met your mate?”

Finley looked at Maxwell and flashed him her fangs as best she could in a public space, assuring him they would be having words on the way back to his office. “I mean,” she shrugged looking at her uncle, “I honestly don’t believe in the whole, mates thing.” She offered her somewhat honest opinion.

“So, you don’t think what your brother and Clara has is genuine?”

“Well, I do, but-”

“Me and your aunt Gina?”

“That’s different, and-

“Your dad and your mom?” Finley felt her breath catch in her throat when her uncle mentioned her parent’s relationship. She also noted the uptick in her father’s heartbeat and the frown his face pulled into. Even with her mom having passed away well over ten years prior, it still tended to be a sore spot for the family; everyone knew not to bring her up unless she needed to be mentions in a conversation. Cayden, of all people, knew that the most; so, Finley recognized that her uncle wasn’t using her mother against her, but was using her to help Finley open her eyes.

Finley pulled her bottom lip between her teeth while Cayden took a sip of his water, trying not to lash out at him for mentioning her mom when she knew his intentions were pure. “You really can’t compare all of those relationships to my situation,” Finley mumbled, drumming her fingers on the table.

Cayden shrugged, “why not? All those relationships are ones where the pairs are mates. Where, at one point, both parties were almost complete strangers who just felt so drawn to the other. There had been no other word able to describe their connection.” Finley knew the story of mates.

Mates were two halves of a soul, separated by the Gods when the souls were given physical bodies to live within. Both halves spent their entire lives looking for the other, and once a soul found their other half they could never again be separated unless death forced them to part. Nearly everyone in the Mannulv pack had found their mate, their pack had been known for their success in finding their mates to the rest of the were-world. The pack had also grown at an exponential rate since most of the children were deemed old enough to officially marry their mate and make them an official member of the pack.

Finley would be the last cousin in her generation to find their mate. However, finding her mate meant that she would also be the first not to make her mate a member of the esteemed Mannulv pack. “I don’t-” Finley closed her eyes. “I just really don’t deserve to have a mate, and they don’t deserve to be dragged into my mess,” she mumbled. “My mate would deserve a stable pack to lean on, not, my mess. I uhh, actually plan to tell Cian he’s no longer welcome to join my pack with Clara,” she told Maxwell and her uncle. “Joining grandma’s pack is safer, it’s guaranteed stability.”

“Finley,” Maxwell said quietly. He hadn’t realized his daughter had been struggling so much with her family issues. He knew she had struggled in the past, but he didn’t realize that it still weighed so heavily on her conscious. Heavily enough to make the decision that years down the line her brother wouldn’t be welcome in her own pack.

“Stiles,” Finley said quietly so her uncle could hear. “His name is Stiles, and his best friend is Scott McCall, he already has a pack, he might be human but that’s his pack,” she saw her uncle look at her dad. “We,” she paused and took a deep breath, “Grandma has humans in her pack, and you see how connected they get,’ Maxwell looked at his brother to make sure he had also picked up on Finley’s slip of her tongue before he looked back to his daughter. “And I’m not planning on breaking up another pack because I couldn’t keep my attitude in-check when I was younger.”

Finley saw Cayden’s eyes soften and he reached out to grab his niece’s hand across the table, but she quickly pulled her hand away. “Finley, you can’t believe what your grandmother told you in the middle of a stupid fight,” he sighed. “Sure, you were strong-willed- to say the least when you were younger, but that’s not why you’re a True Alpha,” he told her. Finley knew the story of True Alphas; that they become an Alpha based solely on the strength of their character, their virtue and sheer willpower, but sometimes Finley didn’t feel like she had truly earned the title.

“I never- I never asked for this,” she dropped her cheek into her palm, watching the ice cubes float around her glass of water. “I never asked to be an Alpha. I never asked to,” she choked up a little bit, “to practically get kicked out of my own pack.” Finley sniffled, wiping away a couple of tears that had run down her cheeks. “I- I didn’t do anything to deserve it. I’ve just been myself. I lost my mom and my pack; do you know how many other wolves would be dead by now if they were in my position?”

Finley watched both her father and her uncle’s gazes soften as she used the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away the rest of her tears. She didn’t like being emotional, she didn’t like to seem weak or easy to rattle in front of other people. However, she knew that the past week had been testing her emotional boundaries, and she had reached the end of her rope. “It hurt, y’know?” She asked the question not expecting or even wanting an answer. “Moving into the guest cabin it- it really stung. I missed out on a lot living out there, and quite frankly it sent me into a spiral I would never wish on anyone,” she spoke quietly but with purpose. “I’d say that was worse than being flat out rejected by the pack. I would have rather been kicked out completely than live a hundred yards away but not be able to see anyone or really go into the main house.”

“Finley-” Maxwell tried to interrupt his daughter, but she just shook her head.  

She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to keep talking, to lay it all out on the table, just like she had wanted to for over a year now. “Werewolves, we need physical comfort from our pack, their scent. You know that right?” Both her father and Cayden nodded. “Think about it, I haven’t had any of that really for more than a year now,” Finley mumbled. “I felt too awkward at Pack dinners because Grandma wouldn’t let me sit at the same table as her, so I just started cooking for myself in the guest cabin. Grandma never really wanted me at movie nights or anything because the pups would feel the tension, so I tried to make myself scarce.”

The year and three months of no true contact from the pack had taken a large toll on Finley. Two weeks into her isolation of sorts, she had developed severe insomnia. After a month she had dropped nearly thirty pounds and felt mentally and emotionally numb. She had missed a rather large chunk of several her cousin’s children growing up, missed out on really being a part of their life like she wanted to be. She missed engagements and pregnancy announcements. At weddings she had been expected to greet guests then sink back into the shadows. To other packs, her presentation as a True Alpha would been seen as a weakening of her grandmother’s power if they ever found out.

Her problems only started to get slightly better after Cian expressed his concern for his twin. He had started to steal pieces of clothing or bedding from the Pack house for Finley to sleep with and started making sure she cooked properly for herself. He would often sneak away on weekends to go for runs with her, help her to still feel somewhat connected to the pack. He spent full moons with his sister rather than the pack.

“No one intended for that to happen Finley. We just didn’t want-”

“Didn’t want to upset everyone in the Pack more than they already were,” she nodded. “I didn’t want to either, like I said. So again, making myself scarce just seemed easier than forming an even larger rift in the family,” she took a deep breath. Finley wiped away more of her tears and nodded, opening the conversation for her father and uncle.

Cayden looked over to Maxwell, but the two brothers couldn’t determine who should speak first through just looking at each other. Instead, Maxwell waved his hand and motioned for Cayden to speak first. “I still don’t understand what all of this has to do with you having found your mate. Shouldn’t that just help you feel better?”

“In theory yes-” Finley started.

“But,” Maxwell cut her off, “if I’m following correctly without a Pack to bring her mate home to, she doesn’t feel worthy of even having a mate since she doesn’t have anyone to show them off to or gain approval in their relationship from.” He looked to his daughter to make sure he followed her correctly. “Especially since he’s a human.”

Finley just nodded as their food got set in front of them, “ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!” She laughed lightly taking a bite of her sandwich. “And before you ask me why I can’t change that it’s natural instincts, werewolves want a pack, I don’t have a pack at a moment really, therefore I feel like a failure,” she put it into simple terms. “Even if I am an Alpha, I’m not really adjusted enough to function on my own yet.”

“So how can we fix the whole, pack animosity issue?” Cayden asked her. “Because that seems like the root of most of the problems you currently have going on.”

Finley took another bite of her sandwich so she would be able to collect her thoughts while she chewed, wondering what news she should break first. “Well, you see. Last night I kind of fucked up,” she trailed off.

“She had a little moment and her mate,” Finley glared at Maxwell after he said that. “Sorry. Stiles wound up offering her physical comfort because he claimed he’s just a touchy person, and he wound up staying the night.” He used the words his daughter had said when she burst into his office at nine that morning.

Finley saw her uncle’s eyes widen and she shook her head and waved her right hand. “No! No! We didn’t fuck,” she closed her eyes and let out a low growl. “We didn’t have sex,” she corrected herself. “He actually admitted that he’s planning on breaking up with his girlfriend in uhh- a week or two.”

“Now she’s more emotionally attached than she would like to be,” Maxwell added. Cayden nodded and shoved a fry into his mouth, clearly thinking.

He nodded slowly, clearly thinking. “What if we,” he motioned between himself and Maxwell, “talked to your grandmother and finally knocked some sense into her?” He asked, watching Finley’s reactions carefully. She seemed to bristle at the mention of her grandmother, her heart rate increasing and her scent giving off anxiety.

“I really don’t have a choice at this point, do I?” Finley knew that her dad and uncle talking to her grandmother would re-open old wounds and would bring to the surface problems long buried. She realized that also meant sitting down and talking with her grandmother at one point in the near future; trying to explain that she didn’t want her grandmother’s power but only wanted to learn how to harness her own power for when the Pack would be transferred to her.

Maxwell sighed and drummed his fingers on the table, clearly thinking about saying something to his daughter that she wouldn’t want to hear. “Finley, you also need to recognize that presenting as a True Alpha automatically means taking your grandmother’s place once she passes, no one else in the pack can take her place now.” Maxwell watched a look of betrayal pass over his daughter’s face while her heart rate exponentially increased. “I’m not saying that to scare you-”

“Then I should have been told that a year ago!” She raised her voice slightly, but promptly dropped it when both men across from her flashed their own fangs. “I’m serious! I would have tried so much harder to maintain a relationship with that old hag if I knew I would be taking over her pack when she bites it!”

Cayden jumped into the conversation again, “no one thought you were ready for that information back then,” he spoke.

“Oh yeah,” Finley laughed, “because I’m so much more ready now after being emotionally beaten down for over a year now?” She shook her head and took a long sip of her water. “I’m shit at math but, that just really doesn’t add up.” She grabbed her phone off the booth from next to her and stood up, pushing away her half-eaten food.

“Finely if you just-”

However, she didn’t let her father finish speaking. “It’s fine, the rain let up. I- I need to go, I’ll call you later just- I need time right now.” She quickly tried to gather her thoughts. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.” With that Finley quickly found herself on the streets of Washington D.C. feeling lost, only knowing one person she wanted to see in that moment.

She found her fingers flying over the keypad on her phone, scrolling through her contacts before she pressed on the name that she had been looking for. Holding her phone up to her ear while she walked, she listened to the dial tone, trying to control her breathing and push off her oncoming panic attack.

“Hey, everything okay?” She heard the voice on the other line pick up.

“No. Stiles, I- I need to talk to you.”

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {2}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret 

Part One 

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character Word Count: 5,915 6,275 Warnings: None  Author’s Note: Really excited to share part two with everyone!!! Send me an ask or message me if you want to be tagged!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Leaning against a lamppost at the entranceway to the parking lot, Finley twirled the lanyard connected to her car keys around her middle and pointer fingers, waiting for Stiles to show up. He didn’t seem like the type of person to flake out on commitments, so Finley convinced herself that his class had just run a little but over time.

While she waited, Finley let the warmth from the metal lamppost soak into her skin, a comfortable warmth spreading over her body. She watched as the fabric of her lanyard twirled around her fingers, eventually reaching the end before she twirled it out again. After getting out of her final class of the day early, Finley texted Stiles that she would meet him near the parking lot behind her dorm building after she dropped her lacrosse bag off in her suite.

Her pent-up frustration from the first day of classes led Finley over to her car where pull out an extra lacrosse ball she knew she had kept in in it; just for these types of occasions. She was always able to pull an extra lacrosse ball out of somewhere if she needed to, and it currently seemed like a better idea than hitting herself with her keys over and over while she spun her lanyard. The metal has already managed to leave a few bruises that had she had healed over due to her supernatural healing, but she was not looking to prolong the experience. Bouncing the ball between her two hands, Finley sighed and pulled her Ray Bans up onto her head so she could see the pathway that led out of campus a little clearer. 

After a few more minutes of mindlessly bouncing the tie-dyed ball up and down she heard a voice call out her name. She caught the ball in her left hand and turned around to see Stiles walking down the path, his backpack still slung around his shoulders and his flannel in his hand. He looked like he had recently started trying to bulk up but wasn’t quite sure how to do it properly. I had been a phase Cian went through his freshman and sophomore year of high school; it took time to master. She knew Stiles would eventually be able to get a hang of it himself, but she would try and remember to ask Cian if he had any good human-based pointers for trying to bulk up later.

“Hey,” Finley replied as she pushed off the lamp post and walked towards Stiles. She pulled her sunglasses back down and held her lanyard between her teeth while she grabbed her phone out of the waistband of her shorts. 

“Why are we driving?” Stiles asked as they made their way through the parking lot towards where Finley’s Range Rover would be. 

Finley laughed as she grabbed her car key, the lanyard now dangling by her side. “Because I really didn’t feel like having a half an hour walk into D.C. today. How were your other classes?” She asked while she unlocked her car once they got closer. 

“Oh fine, pretty boring but I guess that’s how syllabus week goes,” he shrugged. “I’m sure you feel the same way about it though,” he shrugged while he hooked his free thumb under the strap of his backpack, just like he did in class earlier that morning. 

Finley nodded as she popped the trunk of her car, throwing her lacrosse ball into the back before closing it. “Yeah, sylly week sucks,” she replied before opening the back door, “you can put your bag in the back with mine if you want. It’s a short drive but better than holding it.” She watched Stiles set his bag next to hers before he rounded the car to the passenger side.

“Smells like new car,” he said as he closed the door, watching as Finley turned the key and he felt hot air blow out of the vents. He waved the air away and reached out to turn the vents away from himself before turning to put his seatbelt on.

Finley reached out to her dashboard and turned the airflow off completely, “sorry about that,” she apologized. “But yeah, it’s really not that new. I’ve had it for almost a year now it was a birthday gift from my dad. My twin brother got a Wrangler.” Stiles found himself wondering more about Finley’s family life, her dad was a prominent government figure, it must put pressure on his kids and spouse, but the family seemed plenty well off to afford nice things. The sleek, black Range Rover he was currently sat in seemed to be a newer model, going by the touch screen mounted at its front. “So,” she looked out the rear-view mirror while she backed out of the spot, “what are you feeling for lunch, there’s tons of places the meal plan covers.”

Stiles found himself without an answer, he didn’t know the area well, and he really wasn’t all that sure what he wanted to eat. “Uhh,” he trailed off when he felt his phone vibrate and looked down to see a message from Lydia, right they were supposed to Skype later. He had gotten so wrapped up in trying to find all of his classes for the first time that he hadn’t been able to answer her messages all day. “Sorry!” He told Finley. “I’m not sure what there really is to eat around here, so whatever you want.”

“You good over there?” Finley watched as Stiles typed at an alarmingly fast pace, his body reeking of anxiety again while he overdramatically flipped his phone over, so it faced down on his leg that started to bounce nervously. He let out a long breath and she felt some of the anxiety get released from his body, his scent mellowing out significantly. 

Stiles nodded, “girlfriend problems,” he mumbled. “It’s kind of too stressful to be dealing with a relationship right now, I feel very-” Finley heard him trail off, unsure of what the right word to use next would be.  

“Tied down?” Finley asked as she turned on to the main road, flicking the air conditioning on again as she did. “Must be hard being away from her, how long have you two been together?” Finley wasn’t sure why she had asked the question. She found Stiles attractive, but she would never want to get in the way of anyone’s relationship. Especially if Stiles and his girlfriend were trying to navigate being away from each other and their freshman year of college at the same time. 

Stiles started to anxiously drum his fingers on his thigh and Finley watched his motions out of the corner of her eye. He really never stopped moving, but maybe he had ADHD or something, she couldn’t judge. “A while, we just yeah, well a few months technically,” he tried off, “life gets complicated sometimes,” he finally spoke clearly. “Us getting together kind of feels like a blur if I’m being honest.” Finley would have to remember to store away that information to tell her dad later when she called him. 

“Not everyone is going to have a solid timeline,” Finley shrugged as she parallel parked on the street. “My brother and his girlfriend,” she scrunched up her nose and Stiles couldn’t help but watch. It had been kind of cute, as much as he shouldn’t be thinking that when he was supposed to be making plans to Skype his girlfriend later that night. “They’re sickening,” she sighed as she turned her car off, “they’re at Notre Dame together actually, she plays lacrosse, and he plays football.”

Stiles opened his door and slid out, which had been easy since he was closest to the curb. “Oh, must be nice to be so close,” he spoke once Finley joined him on the sidewalk. She had both of their backpacks in her hands and gave him his. “Thanks. Anyway, where were you thinking for food?” He asked her as they started walking up the crowded street. 

Getting to spend time in Washington D.C. for his FBI internship had provided Stiles with some time to explore the city, however, he only knew a very small area well enough to navigate his way around without a GPS or map. He had eaten at most of the same places for the time he had been there, and he really hadn’t gone past a two-block radius of his summer apartment. 

“Oh right,” Finley pulled her Ray Bans up, so that they rested on her head while they walked. “You like burgers?” She asked Stiles. He hadn’t felt that hungry in his last class but at the mention of a good burger he felt his stomach rumble. 

“A burger sounds good,” he nodded, his phone going off in his pocket like crazy. Lydia could wait until after lunch, he was still doing schoolwork technically. “So, you know this area pretty well then I’d assume?”. He wanted to make conversation outside of their project for class, he wanted to try and make new friends. He still loved Scott and the Pack of course, but he also knew he needed more than just his Beacon Hills friends to get through college and life after.

“I do, yeah,” Finley replied. She had been very focused on the sidewalk in front of her and hadn’t fully processed Stiles’ question for a few seconds, engrossed in her own world. “I grew up outside of D.C. in a really nice little suburb area, but I was always in my dad’s office or out causing trouble with Cian,” she replied. The twins were often known for causing trouble when they were younger, especially at CIA headquarters, everyone knew Maxwell Mannulv’s twins. She knew her dad hated having to raise two kids who also happened to be werewolves by himself for most of their lives, but they had turned out to be pretty good kids. In Finley’s opinion of course. 

She felt Stiles’ eyes on her and turned to face him, “Cian’s your brother?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my twin actually. Think of me but make it male and six foot four,” she laughed trying to easily describe her brother. They were almost splitting images of each other, auburn hair, freckles, bright blue eyes. If they had been the same gender, they most definitely would have been identical. Finley knew that she would be considered tall for a female by most at five feet nine inches; the males in her family, however, made her look short. “We were terrors when we were younger,” she smiled at the memories she had with her twin. They were mostly good memories, of course a few arguments and fights came into play, but they were nearly inseparable a majority of their lives. “Gave my dad a run for his money let me tell you, I mean my mom too, but my dad got us by himself when we were in prime asshole age.” 

Stiles listened carefully as she spoke, trying to soak up all the information he could about hers that she offered, “yeah my dad thought I was a terror also when he had me at prime asshole age. Well and the last few years too, me and my best friend gave him a run for his money. My best friend’s mom too.” His dad and Melissa were godsends for dealing with him and Scott for as long as they did. Especially after Scott had gotten bit and they didn’t know what had been going on yet. Another thought popped into Stiles’ mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask the question he wanted to or no.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard,” Finley spoke as she stopped outside the door of a restaurant. The door read ‘Good Stuff Eatery’ and it looked cozy and welcoming inside. “You look like you want to ask something,” she added as she held the door open for Stiles to walk inside.

He quickly thanked her as he walked in, not sure what to say next. “I do- I just, don’t want to offend you?” It came out as more of a question and he wanted to punch himself for being so awkward, he had been getting better with it before he got to college. However, in the week he had been at American it seemed like all his progress had gone out the window. 

Finley smiled as she slid into one side of a wooden booth, setting her bag down next to herself. “I’m sure you won’t offend me,” she looked at Stiles who tried to avoid eye contact, “that takes a lot. Trust me I grew up with a twin brother and all his friends and their crude humor.”

“I-” Stiles cut himself off again and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his thoughts. “Did your parents get divorced and that’s why it’s just been you guys and your dad?” He asked slowly. He watched a new emotion flash across her face as she reached out for a menu but couldn’t read it when she handed him a menu with a shaky hand. Finley on the other hand could feel that Stiles started to feel slightly upset, but she couldn’t put her finger on what type of ‘upset’ he felt. 

Finley swallowed when she heard Stiles’ question, it didn’t offend her she got asked about her lack of a mom often throughout her childhood, but she didn’t talk about her mom all that often. Let alone to someone who was basically a stranger. She flipped open the menu, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts when Stiles spoke again. “Umm, if it means anything,” he started before taking a shaky breath, “My mom umm, passed I guess is the right word, when I was ten.” She noticed that tears were forming in his eyes and reached out to rest her hand next to his but didn’t touch him. “She had umm, frontotemporal dementia.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat at his confession and knew if he had shared that information, she should also be able to share some information about her own mother’s passing. “Me and my brother were almost seven when our mom passed,” she sighed, “she worked in The World Trade Center, and yeah,” she pointed to the number ‘11’ on her sweatshirt’s arm, “September Eleventh,” she looked up to Stiles. “Now that the depressing stuff is out of the way,” she laughed, trying not to show that she was on the verge of tears. “Anything catching your eye?”

She watched as Stiles scanned over the menu, she already knew she would be getting her usual. “Uhm, damn that’s a long name,” Stiles laughed looking at the menu, “probably the Big Stuff Bacon Meltdown and fries.” Finley watched Stiles as he closed his menu and set it down on the table before she raised an eyebrow.

She had been eating at Good Stuff for years, she knew she had to talk him into getting a shake. “Okay good choice on the burger and fries,” she closed her own menu, “but you can’t come here and not get a shake,” she told him very matter-of-factly. “Like it’s basically a crime to not get one.” She watched as Stiles opened his menu again, looking for the milkshake section, reading over it quickly.

He set it down again before looking up to Finley, making eye contact with her for the first time. “Cookies and Cream?” He asked her. Finley nodded before standing up.

“I always get the coffee one, but my brother loves the cookies and cream shake,” she said as they walked to the front to order. “You can go first,” she nodded for Stiles to make his way to the register. After he ordered his things, and they slid his ID, Finley stepped up. “Can I please have a steakhouse burger, the village fries and a coffee milkshake,” she held her ID out for the man working to take. He grabbed it and slid it through the card reader before handing her a number. “Thanks,” Finley took her number and followed Stiles back to the table.

After they sat down Finley pulled her bag towards herself and pulled out her laptop while Stiles was clearly answering text messages. Finley was still able to pick up the fact that Stiles felt slightly upset and it hadn’t been her intention to upset him when she hesitated sharing information about her mom at first. “I’m sorry if I uhh, made you feel forced to share anything,” she said while she turned her laptop on. 

“You didn’t!” Stiles assured her while he pulled out his own laptop after setting his phone down. “I just feel like if I’m able to make someone more comfortable in their own shoes by sharing something why not help?” He rested his cheek on his palm while he waited for his computer to finish turning on. She felt any sadness left in his body fade away when he cracked a small smile, the anxiety also leaving Finley’s body.

Finley nodded as she typed her pin into her laptop to unlock it. “It’s been however many years now and it still stings,” she sighed, “like that day every year at my house it’s always silent, no one functions, no one really talks to each other. It’s going to be weird being away from home for the first time.”

She watched Stiles as he looked at her over his laptop, he nodded as he typed something before speaking. “It’s really just my dad at home now too, so I think I felt guilty leaving more than anything.” He shrugged while he started to tap his fingers on the table in front of him. “My best friend back home, Scott, I’m sure he’s keeping an eye on my dad for now though. We grew up more as brothers if I’m being honest.”

Finley almost had an audible reaction to Stiles mentioning Scott for the first time, and the fact that they were basically brothers growing up, he had to know about Scott’s supernatural side. “He must be pretty special,” Finley nodded while she chewed on her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully. “Having a tight knit friend group can feel pretty essential to like, surviving sometimes,” she laughed lightly trying to brush off her word choice as a joke. She hoped her play on words could worm even more information out of him.

“You could say that again,” Stiles Scoffed as he let out a long sigh. “Okay so he sent us that email like half an hour ago apparently,” Stiles looked up to Finley as his leg started bouncing under the table. “Sorry, I get a little- hyperactive after being stuck in classes all day with nothing else to do.” Finley just nodded absentmindedly as she opened the email herself, clicking on the attached word document and waiting for the file to download.

She saw the words ‘Introduction to Law: Case Study’ pop up on the screen and scrolled down past the cover page to read the case description. It fell silent between the pair while they both read the case information over. 

‘The case you will be examining is based on an unsolved series of serial murders that occurs over a span of about twenty years. The case will remain unnamed by myself and within your preliminary court documents, your first part of this assignment is deciphering what well known case this is based off.’ Finley nodded and knew that they would be able to figure out what case they would be examining easier, and faster, than most groups due to both of their experiences. Finley’s reading was interrupted when a middle-aged woman brought their food over. 

“Well hello Finley,” the woman spoke as she set down her usual order in front of her. “First couple weeks of eating college food already had you needing your fix in?” She asked leaning against the table next to Finley and Stiles. 

Finley smiled as she ate a fry, “you know me too well Maggie,” she told the woman. “I’ll definitely be coming around more often though. I eat at the gym usually and there’s only so many eggs and grilled chicken salads I can eat.” She swallowed what she had in her mouth. “Oh sorry! This is Stiles, he’s my partner for one of my classes, and friend.”

Finley watched as Maggie waved to Stiles who still had not touched his food. “You been here before?” Maggie asked him.

“No, no! I’m from California actually,” he trailed off at the end. His anxiety levels were starting to rise again, and Finley sighed while she heard Maggie hum.

“Well,” she patted him on the shoulder while she started to walk away. “You’re very lucky you have this one to show you the ropes out here.” She winked at Finley whose eyes widened and she choked on her shake. Maggie really did know her too well sometimes.

Finley grabbed her water bottle and took a long sip before turning back to Stiles. “Sorry, 6that has a lot of pepper on it,” she cleared her throat. “Maggie’s been here forever, she knows my brother and I quite well.” 

“That’s nice,” Stiles popped a fry in his mouth and Finley watched his eyes widen as he chewed it slowly. “Oh my god, these are amazing!” He said while he put another two into his mouth. Finley smirked while she took a bite of her burger, knowing she had made a good decision taking him here. She watched him pick up the burger and squish it down as much as he could before taking a bite. He set it down and gave Finley a thumbs up while he chewed. 

Finley turned back to the case description and started reading out loud. “It says here,” she swallowed her bite of burger. “That ‘the case revolves around a series of bodies found along the North Shore of Long Island, New York.’ I hope you know it is very obvious what case this is already.” Finley told Stiles who just looked up at her confused while he shoved a few more fries into his mouth. “Google the LISK,” she said.

“The what?” He mumbled through a mouth full of food, wiping his hands on one of the brown paper napkins that sat in the middle of the table.

Finley laughed lightly, “The LISK? The Long Island Serial Killer, only one of the most iconic unsolved serial killer cases.” She told him. When Stiles still didn’t know what she had been talking about she sighed, “fine,” she mumbled. “Maybe I know too much about this stuff but just trust me and google it!” 

“The way you were able to just know it was whoever this LISK is off the top of your head is slightly concerning,” Stiles tried to hide is smile behind his burger while he took another bite, the fingers on his free hand flying across his keyboard while he typed. “That and this is seriously amazing,” he told her. “And you can eat this whenever you want?”

Finley tried not to laugh while she took a sip of her milkshake, not wanting to choke on it, “to your first point,” she started. “I hyper fixated on serial killers for quite a few years, I’ve seen like any show out there about them I’m pretty sure. But me and my brother used to come here constantly, especially if we were visiting our dad at work,” she nodded. “I’ll show you other places too, we can like, try a new food place once a week if you want,” she shrugged. Stiles turned back to his laptop and clicked on something.

He shoved more fries into his mouth before starting to read with his food half chewed. “The Long Island Serial Killer,” he swallowed, “also referred to as LISK, the Gilgo Beach Killer or the Craigslist Ripper,” Stiles paused and made a face of disgust which made Finley laugh. “The Craigslist Ripper, that’s interesting,” he mumbled.  “Anyway, they’re an unidentified suspected serial killer who is believed to have murdered 10 to 16 people over a period of nearly 20 years, mostly women who were associated with being prostitutes, and left their bodies in areas on the South Shore of Long Island, New York.” 

“See,” Finley crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the booth, “I know my serial killers, he just flipped the shores for the project.” Stiles held his hands up. 

“I didn’t say you didn’t!” He spoke in a voice slightly higher than his normal one. “It’s honestly interesting and disturbing at the same time and I can’t talk because my bedroom had a crime board in it for years and it’s still up.” She watched his eyes widen and he started to stutter. “I-I my dad’s the sheriff, so I get uhm, interested in some of his cases.” He rushed out. 

Finley finished the last bite of her burger and nodded, “I mean, can be a valuable asset,” she shrugged, “it says here that we don’t yet know who the killer is, and it will be part of our grade to use the evidence provided and decide who we think the killer is. It will be part of our grade that we thoroughly attempt this, however, we won’t be penalized if we’re incorrect. A correct response through evaluation of evidence will result in a significant boost in our grade provided through extra credit,” she finished. 

“Oh, we so got this!” Stiles held his hand up for a high five and Finley returned it with a smile before she closed her laptop. “Okay, want to meet on Friday?” Stiles asked. “We can start looking at all the information, breaking it down. It’ll be fun!” Finley sighed; she knew she had made plans to go to a party with her teammates on Friday night. The men’s soccer team had invited them, and she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to go to her first college party. She also realized that Stiles didn’t really have any friends yet on campus and missing one party probably wouldn’t kill her. 

“As long as we can order take out and do it in my suite,” she shrugged. “Because it is going to be dead by me most of Friday night,” Finley told him while she started to put her things away. She sighed as she noticed the time on her watch, she still had plenty of time until she had to be at lacrosse, but she still wanted a break, just for a day.

She felt Stiles’ eyes on her while he packed his own bag and looked over before raising an eyebrow. “You have a suite?” He asked her in slight disbelief. “A whole suite?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “And I have a single because my roommate decided not to come to school. It’s me and two other teammates in the other room. I made the two beds into a giant bed,” she laughed lightly as she watched Stiles’ jaw drop over dramatically. 

He glared at her before shaking his head. “I am jealous,” he spoke as he stood up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I’m in an actual dorm, roommate, communal bathrooms and all!” He laughed while Finley finished gathering her things and stood up, waving to Maggie while Stiles held the door open for her. 

“I mean, sometimes it’s weird having my own room to myself but it’s also nice not having to worry about if I’m bothering someone or if they’re bothering me,” she shrugged while they walked down the street to her car. She looked over to see Stiles typing away on his phone, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth while he did, looking up every few seconds to make sure he didn’t trip. He obviously seemed very concerned with keeping his girlfriend happy and not going too long with leaving her messages unread. Finley had never understood the clingy girlfriend act, Cian and his girlfriend had been together since eighth grade, and they had never been weirdly clingy. Surely the full moon makes Cian a little extra possessive, but it never got the to the point of bothering anyone else in the house.

Stiles sighed and tucked his phone into his pocket once they had almost reached Finley’s Range Rover. “Sorry, Lydia is just, high maintenance sometimes,” he apologized. “I’m actually going to call her once I get back,” he opened the back-passenger door and put his backpack in, holding his hand out to take Finley’s also. She handed it to him and watched as he set it next to his own, making sure neither would be able to fall off the seat.

“Some girls are just like that,” Finley said once she had gotten into the driver’s seat. “And that’s where you decide if it’s worth it,” she drummed her fingers on the wheel to the ticking of her blinker while she waited for the street to clear enough for her to pull out. “I personally don’t get needing attention twenty-four hours a day seven days a week, but some people do.”

She felt Stiles’ gaze on her while she finally pulled out. “I- I love her,” he said, “I really do, I’ve had a crush on her since third grade and now I finally have her, but it just feels-”

“Not how you expected it to?” Finley finally looked over again to see him typing out another text message. 

Stiles finished his message before sighing, “Sorry that was Scott not her,” he laughed lightly. “But yeah, I just- I’m not feeling it like I should be anymore.” Finley wasn’t sure what she should say, or if she should say anything at all. Instead, she waited to see if Stiles planned on continuing his line of thought. “I’m actually going to call Scott too, and my dad, ask them about it,” he ran his hands through his hair.

Finley smelled the anxiety radiating off him again, but this time it smelled different than when he had been nervous earlier, it smelled a lot more potent, and she couldn’t place her finger on why. She opted to crack the windows and let some of the stress filled air out before she breathed through her nose again. “It’s better to have a conversation about it before you act on it,” she nodded. “Sit on it for a little while, talk to her about it too. Air out your feelings,” she mumbled the last part.  

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be impulsive,” Stiles sighed as they pulled back into the parking lot. Finley pulled into the same parking spot as earlier and killed her engine. “Thanks for this afternoon,” he told her, opening the door, and hopping out. 

Finley took her bag from him and smiled, “no problem, I love D.C. I’m always down to show people around!” The pair started walking towards the school again. “I’ve been out to California a few times, it’s really nice.”

“Yeah, but thank you for not thinking I’m weird, or too weird just to entertain. I just- I needed to start making friends out here and I’m glad I sat next to you in class!” He rushed the words out, only stuttering a little bit this time.

Finley just nodded along as he spoke, knowing that she should just let him finish his thoughts and not interrupt. “I’m quite glad you did too,” she replied, “I have lacrosse in a little while, so I’ll catch you in class Wednesday?” She asked once they reached the entranceway of her suite building. 

“Yeah- yeah,” Stiles’ voice dropped slightly as he hooked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack yet again. Must be a nervous habit. “Totally,” he offered an awkward wave as she walked into the glass doors. 

Finley smiled after the doors closed and shook her head when she looked over her shoulder to see Stiles still outside. She playfully rolled her eyes before offering a wave over her shoulder. His eyes widened and he waved once more before turning around and leaving. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“No! You don’t get it!” Finley told her dad and brother through the computer screen, “he just, he smells so strong it isn’t natural!” She watched her father’s smile widen in amusement while Cian just rolled his eyes, thanking his girlfriend, Clara, as she handed him a water bottle. 

“Freak,” Cian mumbled under his breath, hoping that the seal cracking on the water bottle would cover his voice, but Finley still heard it.

“Dad!” Finley whined at her brother’s word choice, hoping their father would tell him to shut up like he would when they were younger. 

Maxwell rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked up, “Cian,” he sighed while his son just rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re just hyper aware of what’s going on around you because it’s close to the full moon and it’s the first time you’re going to be away from home for it,” Maxwell spoke. 

“Or maybe,” Cian leaned closer to the camera, “he’s your mate.” He sing-songed.

“Dad!” Finley yelled louder this time. She had heard about the concept of mates before; her father had been the one to tell the twins about it after Cian had met Clara and felt ‘oddly connected’ to her. If it was any other child, one who wasn’t a supernatural creature, he would have passed it off as hormones, but the twins were different. 

Maxwell let out a long sigh before looking back at his kids, “Cian I’ll call you later, okay?” He asked the older of the two, “just, let me talk to your sister for now.” Cian didn’t have to be told twice and he stuck out his tongue at his sister before hanging up. “Now that I can actually talk to you.” Maxwell laughed while he settled more comfortably into his office chair. 

“He’s not my mate dad!” Finley rushed out. “And he has a girlfriend!” She watched her father’s gaze soften slightly and leaned back into her bed more. “He’s smart too dad! Scott McCall is his best friend. He has to know about what he is!” There was no doubt in Finley’s mind that Stiles knew about Scott and the happenings around Beacon Hills. 

Maxwell sifted through a few papers before pulling one out and holding it closer to his face so he could read it. “And his girlfriend’s a banshee,” he started chewing on the end of the pen he held in his right hand, it had been a habit Finley also managed to pick up over the years. “And his one ex-girlfriend is a werecoyote, and they’re pretty close with Derek Hale,” he looked up over his glasses. Finley looked at her dad, surprised. “So yeah,” Maxwell nodded, “he knows all about it, I’m sure.”

Finley rested her hands on her legs and cracked her back to try and avoid the awkward silence that fell between her and her father. “I-” Finley started, but wasn’t quite sure what to say. “All fair points,” she mumbled. 

“Look Finley,” Maxwell set down the paper and sighed, “he’s a valuable resource, but what we’re fighting now, he needs to stay out of it.” Maxwell’s voice stayed firm while he spoke to his daughter.

Finley shook her head and sat up straighter, “but dad,” she started. “If we could get help from Scott McCall, another Alpha, and his pack, we’d be able to beat them. No questions asked!” Finley watched Maxwell pull on the ends of his hair.

“McCall sided with hunters, Finley. Do you know how dangerous it is to trust hunters?” He breathed out opening the file he had on Scott McCall in front of him.

“Chris Argent is hardly a hunter anymore!” Finley shot back. “You know that! He’s possibly one of the biggest human allies the Supernatural has and- and you’re passing up the possibility of having a direct line of communication to him!” It wasn’t unusual for the pair to argue about things concerning how Maxwell dealt with the supernatural, especially when his children’s lives were considered on the line. “I’m not a little kid anymore dad and you hired me to be a consultant. I’m going to give my opinion on these kinds of things!” She let out a long sigh of annoyance.

Maxwell leaned in closer to the computer and clearly saw his daughter’s stress filled frown and the tension pulling in her jaw. “I’m sorry, Finley,” he mumbled. “I just think it’s best to leave this alone until you come into the office again.”

“Whatever else happens between now and then isn’t my fault. I might be in college and busy with that now, but this job is still my main priority,” she told her father. “And until you learn to drop the protective dad act and actually approve me to investigate the things I need to, anything that happens with my cases is your fault.” She leaned forward and grabbed her phone off her desk, checking the time. 

“Finley-” Maxwell started.

“It’s almost eleven dad and I need to be up early,” she offered him a lopsided smile. “I’ll text you in the morning.” With that she leaned forward and hung up on their call before flopping back on to her mattress. She had to figure out what else Stiles knew and if it required her breaking protocol, then so be it. 

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {3}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret 

Masterlist 

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,159 6,537

Warnings: Mentions of underaged drinking

Author’s Note: Part Three!!! Uhh some angst? Soft Stiles? I really like this part and I’m very excited for the next one!! Message me or send me an ask to be tagged!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Friday night rolled around, and Finley found herself bobbing her head along to the beat of her ‘Old Skool’ playlist, which was comprised of all the 80’s music her dad made them listen to growing up, while she Dutch braided her hair in the bathroom mirror. A knock came from the door that led into her suitemates’ room and she paused her music, “it’s open!”  She called loud enough that they could hear her. Bailey, a midfielder for the lacrosse team, slipped into the bathroom, her makeup bag in her hand.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” She asked while she pulled out her foundation and a makeup sponge. “It’s going to be an absolute blast! Beach party is one of the most looked forward to parties of the year!” Finley finished her left braid, made sure it looked okay in the mirror, and tied it off with a rubber band.

She looked over to Bailey who had just applied way too much foundation to her face, her neck and face were going to be two different colors but that was not any of Finley’s business. “I’m totally fine. I told you I have a project to work on for my Intro to Law class,” she reminded her suitemate.

Bailey pulled out her mascara and applied a heavy coat to her eyelashes. “Oh, right I forgot you mentioned that,” she fanned her hands in front of her eyes to help the mascara dry faster. Finley continued to section her hair for her right braid and carefully watched her hands work in the mirror. “With that boy, right?” Bailey asked.

“Stiles,” Finley reminded Bailey of his name and continued to tightly braid her hair, “he’s on the men’s club team actually.” She had just remembered they had the lacrosse connection, and she also knew that meant they would soon be seeing each other outside of their class and project meetings thanks to the mixed morning workouts the two teams had agreed to participate in. 

“Oh right! We have a mixer with them two Saturdays from tomorrow.” Bailey told her. Finley hadn’t been much of the party type before she arrived at college. Mainly because she couldn’t get drunk, or even buzzed off of alcohol; a special strain of wolfsbane needed to be mixed in for her to feel anything other than sober at all. Being the designated driver had gotten old for both her and her brother very quickly. “Well, we have to call it a mixer,” Bailey pulled out white eye black and applied it to her nose, so it looked like sunscreen. “It’s a risky business party.”

Finley pulled her second rubber band off her wrist, “risky business?” She asked, slightly confused. “Like the movie?”

Bailey laughed after she finished coating her lips in ‘ruby red’ lipstick and smiled at herself in the mirror. “Yes! Like the movie!” She rolled her eyes and closed her make up bag. “It’s like you don’t know anything about college!” Finley rolled her own eyes in response before walking into the threshold of her room, grabbing the door handle with her hand. 

“Have fun tonight, let me know if you’re going to be hungover in the morning. I’ll go out and get you and Kenna coffee,” Finley told her suitemate before closing her door that led to the bathroom. She was immediately enveloped in the warmth and comfort of her room, the orange scent from her diffuser relaxing her when she breathed in. The warm glow of the lights she had hanging along the top of her wall had her even more relaxed, some of the tension seeping out of her body. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, basking in the silence for the first time in nearly three weeks. 

She had been working all summer before moving her brother in, traveling around the country, and to a few international locations with her dad. After an entire summer of traveling and trying to avoid getting killed, she wanted at least a few days to relax, but instead she had to move her brother and then herself into college. Taking a deep breath, Finley opened her eyes when she heard a knock on the bathroom door that led to her room.

“It’s open!” She groaned watching the handle twist before her other suitemate, Mckenna, walked in. She had on a pair of white, denim shorts, and a sunflower printed bikini top, a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of her head. “Please wear a coat or at least bring one,” Finley pinched the bridge of her nose.

Mckenna rolled her eyes and leaned on the frame of the door while Bailey pulled a pair of ‘lifeguard’ shorts over her red, ‘lifeguard’ one piece swimsuit. “It’s me you’re concerned about?” Mckenna laughed and motioned to Bailey who now had a hard lemonade can in her hand. “That’s her third, and it’s only seven.” 

“I don’t want to be up early tomorrow because she’s throwing up,” Finley groaned and Mckenna stepped into her room closing the bathroom door behind her. Bailey and Mckenna thought that Finley was only a light sleeper, they didn’t know that when one of them was throwing up in the bathroom, Finley could both hear and smell everything.

“You say that like she won’t go home with a soccer or men’s player,” Mckenna laughed while she sat on top of one of the two desks in Finley’s room. “So, I wouldn’t be too worried about her waking up you or the boy you’re having over. Speaking of,” she swung her legs a little bit. “When’s he coming over?”

Finely looked at her watch, “ten minutes. If even,” she shrugged. “And he’s not staying over he has a girlfriend,” she added after the fact. She knew Stiles would most likely hang around as long as she let him, but she didn’t plan on trying anything with him. She didn’t know him well enough to pursue anything yet anyways. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mckenna waved her off while sliding off the desk. “We’ll be gone by eight at the latest, we’re going over to one of the senior’s apartments before heading over to the soccer house.” Mckenna opened the bathroom door and they both noticed that Bailey was trying, and failing, to braid her hair. “Let’s go Bails,” Mckenna threw a wink over her shoulder at Finley before leading Bailey back into their room, both doors separating the three closing behind the pair. 

Finley let out a loud groan as she got up and locked the bathroom door from her side, making sure a drunk Bailey wouldn’t be able to barge in any time soon. She walked over to her dresser and untied her sweatpants, letting them fall to the floor while she dug around her in a drawer for a pair of shorts. 

She couldn’t figure out why she felt so on edge, she wanted to rip someone’s head off and cry at the same time, a feeling she hadn’t felt since the last big blow up with her grandmother months prior. Sure, the full moon was that night, but she had been able to more than control herself for the event since she was six years old. That couldn’t be why her emotions were so volatile. She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, looking for when she was due for her next heat, and it wasn’t supposed to occur for another two months. 

Stepping out of her sweats she pulled the black Nike pros up her legs and flattened the band across her stomach. Tucking the extra fabric from her long sleeve shirt into them before pulling a pair of cabin socks on her feet. Her room often got warm at night, even with the air on as cold as she could make it she would get too hot to wear sweatpants for more than a couple hours at a time. Walking over to her body length mirror she turned to the side and looked over herself for a few moments. 

She had always been on both the taller and ‘curvier’ side, even when she had been younger. The body type ran in her family, even Cian was on the larger side of D1 quarterbacks. Since she had been running around the country, quite literally, most of the summer and began intense conditioning for lacrosse soon after, she had lost around fifteen pounds and started to gain more defined muscles. She wasn’t uncomfortable with how her body had been changing, but it had come as a shock when she weighed in at media day and noticed the drop in her weight. She did enjoy how her legs were becoming even more defined than they already were and her ass looked amazing.

She jumped when a knock sounded from her room door and walked over to open it. Stiles stood on the other side, his legs clad in a pair of maroon sweats that read ‘Beacon Hills Lacrosse’ and his top half covered in just a while tee shirt. “Hey!” She smiled opening the door wider so he could walk in. 

“Hey,” he winced, in what looked like pain, while he dropped his backpack on her floor, “I am so sore.” He groaned, stretching his neck out. Finley watched as he bent down slowly to pull his water bottle out of his bag, holding his back while he did.

“Oh, right men’s started a couple days ago,” she laughed watching as he sat down on the edge of her bed. “We were watching you guys run suicides earlier between shotting drills,” she felt a smirk pull across her face when she saw Stiles look at her with his eyes narrowed. “Looked awful if you want my opinion, but I went through that at the beginning of the season, so I don’t feel bad per say. I just feel sympathetic.”

Finley considered taking some of his pain away, but she wasn’t sure how he would react if she did, or if he already knew about that aspect of being a werewolf. Instead, she pulled a chair over to her closet to stand on while she looked around her top shelf for her heating pad. She usually used it before her heats when she would start feeling the symptoms of it onsetting, but she also discovered it worked magic on humans when their muscles were tense or tight.

“Here, hang on,” Finley plugged it into her extension cord and turned it on to the high setting. “Sit back on the wall with this on your back.” She told him after handing him the heating pad. She watched Stiles give her an ‘I don’t believe you’ look while he settled himself against the wall, the heating pad on his lower back. She stood across the room, her arms crossed over her chest while she watched some of the tension wash out of his body, his shoulders dropping and his face relaxing. 

Stiles opened his eyes to look at Finley, a smug smirk on her face. “It worked,” he smiled while he rested his head against the wall, still watching her. Finley walked across the room and sat down on her bed on the opposite send from stiles, her legs crossed while she unlocked her phone. 

“I’m right sometimes,” she laughed while she pulled up a takeout menu. “So how does grilled cheese sound for dinner?” She held up the menu on her phone while Stiles turned his head to the side to watch her. That was when he noticed she had on glasses, he had never seen her wear them before. The frames complementing the shape of her face and their tortoiseshell print making her blue eyes pop. 

“Grilled cheese?” He asked in slight amusement, “doesn’t sound much like take out, we could make that here if we wanted.” He spoke. Finley watched as his body relaxed even more and he sat up a little bit straighter, pulling his legs in so they crossed. 

“It’s a place called GCDC and it’s a grilled cheese restaurant,” she handed him her phone that had the menu pulled up on it. “If nothing catches your eye, we can try somewhere else, but I am the one from around here y’know?” Watching Finley skeptically out of the corner of his eye Stiles took the menu and began looking it over. 

A few minutes later Stiles handed her back her phone. “Okay so, maybe I was wrong,” he mumbled. “This place actually looks really good, and this heating pad is fucking magical,” he moved it further up his back. Finley noticed how much more his face had relaxed and smiled lightly, he looked cozy and warm. Mixed with the subtle scent of orange filling her room and the warm glow of her lights she found herself wanting to curl up next to him and take a nap. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Finley realized she would have to actually go see her dad in the morning and sit down and talk to him about her feelings, the last thing she wanted to do. However, she could not let her emotions get the best of her in this situation and understood that her dad tended to give good advice in the area of ‘werewolf dating and romance’, as much as she hated to admit it.

“Yeah, I know,” Finley mumbled not wanting to open her eyes and have to look at Stiles again, “and that was to both of your statements,” she added. “If you tell me what you want, I’ll call and order it,” Finley reached over to the desk that had been placed at the end of her bed and grabbed a post it and pencil.

Stiles reached out for her phone that still sat unlocked on her bed and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while he scanned the menu again. “Would you recommend a grilled cheese or mac and cheese?” Stiles looked at Finley over the phone, his brows knit together trying to make the tough decision between the two. 

“So how about this,” she bounced the pencil on her leg, “we each get a grilled cheese and then we can split a mac and cheese?” Finley suggested. “Because both are amazing and I’m actually pretty hungry tonight.” She shrugged, she had lost weight, she could eat a little more crap than she usually would. “So, four cheese mac and cheese,” she wrote it down. 

Stiles looked back and forth between a couple options before settling on one. “And-” he dragged out the word while he tried to make up his mind. “I’ll get the Young American I guess,” he shrugged while he handed Finley’s phone back to her. “Which do you usually get?” He asked while she wrote his order down.

“I usually get the French Onion,” she also wrote down her order. “Uhh, I have soda and iced tea and shit in the fridge unless you want something else to drink.” She tried to think of what else they could possibly order from the restaurant. “Anything else you could think of that you would want from there?” Finley asked. Stiles shook his head, his hair that still looked slightly damp from his shower, flopping on his forehead. It was a cute look, especially with how relaxed he seemed, but Finley knew she needed to reign it in before she accidently said something she regretted. She had never been known to have the best brain to mouth filter and did not need it getting her in trouble with Stiles.

Stiles tried to settle more into the feeling of the heating pad relaxing the tense and sore muscles in his back while Finley finished writing down their orders. She set her pencil back down on her desk and held the post it between her teeth while she crawled off her bed, jumping down to the floor before padding over to her other desk.    

Stiles knew it was wrong, and he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he found his eyes following her movements while she walked around her room. Her figure was illuminated by the warm glow of her lights and the two braids in her hair flowed down her back almost perfectly. He watched the muscles in her legs flex while she leaned up on her toes to put the post it of their orders up on the wall. The way her shorts fit left absolutely nothing to his imagination and Stiles found himself observing how they hugged her hips and ass perfectly. 

Stiles rolled his back against the wall and tried to focus on something else while he listened to Finley call in their orders. He tried to will his mind to think about something other than walking up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist while she spoke, tracing his lips down the side of her neck. He tried to remember what Lydia’s lips felt like on his, what her arms around him felt like, but he just couldn’t. Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out slowly through his lips; he was with Lydia, he loved Lydia.

On Monday after he had spoken to Lydia, for far too long in his opinion, Stiles found himself on the phone with Scott on the verge of an anxiety attack. He loved Lydia, he truly did, but some pieces just weren’t fitting together right anymore. Scott had managed to talk Stiles off a ledge and told him that if he waited two weeks until he and Lydia were traveling to D.C. to see one of Stiles’ first lacrosse games, he would help Stiles decide if breaking up with Lydia would be the best decision for him. He had hung up his phone after the conversation and found himself flopping back into his bed with an over exaggerated sigh that had his roommate asking if he felt okay. 

“Stiles?” He opened his eyes to see Finley standing in front of him, concern and confusion written on her face. “It’ll be here in like fifteen minutes, but are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.

Stiles sat up a little bit and groaned when he felt his muscles tense up again, a sickening crack traveling down his back when he stretched it out. “I’m okay just, I need to get used to it again,” he sighed. “I’m sure you’d understand it.” He laughed and moved the heating pad down lower again.

Finley bit her lip while she looked at Stiles, of course she didn’t fully understand it, her muscles would heal almost immediately after she strained them at practice. She could clearly see how the soreness had affected Stiles though, and she wanted to help but didn’t want to risk exposing herself. “We could have rescheduled y’know?” She asked him. 

“I’m perfectly fine. I just needed a few minutes to sit down,” he waved her off before standing up and going to pick up his backpack. “I’ve been looking at the case stuff and I have a couple ideas on who the suspect is, but I think we need the rest of the case information he’s giving us Monday to finish it.” 

Finley stopped him from bending down with a hand on his shoulder and offered a soft smile. “It’s good I was thinking the same thing because you need physical rest and I need a mental break,” she spoke. “We can look at it again at lunch on Monday, okay?” She pushed Stiles’ bag next to hers with her foot. 

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles walked back over to her bed and pushed himself up on the mattress, settling the heating pad on his back again. Finley offered him a sympathetic smile before she grabbed her wallet and ID.

She slipped on her Crocs before grabbing the handle of the door. “I’m gonna go grab the food, you just don’t hurt yourself,” she laughed lightly. Stiles went to push off the mattress and she reached a hand out to stop him. “Didn’t I say to like, stay there?” She asked, cocking her head to the side, a playful smirk pulling at her lips.

“I need to-”

“It’s on me this time,” she waved him off when Stiles gave her a look that said he wanted to protest, and she opened her door and started to step outside before he could say anything else. “I said it’s on me,” she repeated.

Stiles leaned his head back against the wall and watched Finley leave, her door shutting quietly behind her. Being left alone in Finley’s room felt slightly wrong, and his curiosity had him eager to look around, but he wasn’t sure if it would be rude. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on the warmth spreading throughout his body, but he got too curious to stay focused on the pain that spread throughout his body. Stiles opened his eyes and looked around the room, he noticed that the wall her window was on had been covered in pictures and slowly pushed himself off the bed with a groan.

Slowly he shuffled across her soft rug, not wanting to lift his legs too much and hurt himself even more and paused in front of the wall of photos. He quickly scanned over the wall and noticed that most of them seemed to feature Finley and her friends at various sports games or school dances, even sleepovers and vacations.

He realized he had quite a few similar photos hanging up in his room and smiled a little bit, he could be a normal teenager sometimes apparently. Between fighting the supernatural, trying to actually finish high school and making sure no on in his pack actually died, Stiles hadn’t had much time to be a ‘normal’ teenager the last few years. He had hoped he would change that at college and be able to let go a little bit, so far that had proved to be true, but he just hoped the trend would continue.

Stiles found himself looking past most of the pictures from lacrosse games or prom and his eyes settled on one that hung right next to the window on its molding. A little girl posed in front of a tiger cage in the pictures, a boy who looks quite similar next to her, they both had Mickey Mouse ears on, and their faces were painted to look like tigers. Behind the two kids stood a man who Stiles noticed in a number of other photos, Finley’s dad he assumed, and a woman who seemed to be almost a splitting image of Finley. 

“That was our last family vacation,” Finley held a paper bag in her hand and closed her bedroom door. Stiles jumped when he heard her voice and gasped, putting a hand over his heart and groaning in pain. “Sorry,” Finley laughed and sat the food down on her desk along with her wallet and ID, “couldn’t help it. I wanted to see if you would actually jump.”

She walked over to where Stiles stood and ran her fingers over the picture, smiling sadly while she did. “That was two weeks before she passed actually,” Finley mumbled, “at the Animal Kingdom,” she pointed to another photo. Her and her brother, along with their father, stood in the same location for the photo and still wore Mickey ears, but they looked significantly older. “And that one is from when we were sixteen, there’s others somewhere on here.” She motioned around the wall. “We go the same week every year.”

Finley turned and walked back to her desk where the food sat. “Sorry I was snooping around,” he spoke while walking over towards her. He hadn’t meant to look creepy while looking at her photos, he just wanted to get to know her better and his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

“Oh, I don’t care,” she ripped the staples out of the paper bag with her nails and dumped them into the garbage bag. “I don’t really have anything to hide, and besides they’re hanging up so it’s just asking people to look at them. If I did have something to hide,” she slid the three containers out of the bag along with some plastic forks and napkins, “I wouldn’t leave it out in the open.” 

Finley bit her lip while sitting down on the floor and opening her mini fridge, of course she had things to hide, but nothing in her room. “Uhh,” she bent down to look in the fridge, “alcohol or non-alcohol for the drink?” Just because Finley couldn’t get drunk off normal alcohol didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it. Also knowing that his kids couldn’t feel the effects alcohol provided to others, Maxwell often had no problems with providing his kids drinks. 

“You have alcohol in here?” Stiles asked in slight disbelief. Finley turned around and looked up at him, slightly shocked that had been his reaction. 

“Yeah, and my suitemates have a shit ton more,” she laughed pushing a few bottles and cans around in the fridge. “So?” she asked Stiles waiting for an answer. 

She saw stiles sit down in her desk chair next to where she sat on the floor. “I mean if you’re offering, I’ll take one of whatever you’re having,” he shrugged. Finley smirked and pulled out a can and handed it to him. 

“I don’t know if you’re a fan of hard coffee like I am,” she pushed a few more bottles and cans around. “If not, I have a couple different beers and uhh- a few different hard lemonades.” She looked up to Stiles who had set her coffee can on the desk. 

“Uhh I guess whatever beer you have then,” Finley sighed and pulled two bottles out, a Corona and a Bud Light, shaking both bottles slightly to tell Stiles to pick. “Corona,” he said firmly, and Finley smirked, holding the bottle out towards him. 

She slid the other back into the fridge and pulled a magnetic bottle opener off the side of her fridge and handed it to him. “My dad and brother drink Corona,” she said, “I actually don’t like beer honestly.”

Finley watched Stiles open the bottle and he set the cap on her desk before putting the bottle opener back where it belonged. She handed him his grilled cheese and the container of mac and cheese, “go get comfortable again,” she nodded towards the bed, “I can tell you’re still in pain and I want to pick a movie to watch.” 

Finley watched Stiles walk back towards the bed and set both containers down before pushing himself up on to the mattress, his brows furrowing in pain while he did. Maybe when he wasn’t paying attention she could try and take away at least a little bit of his pain. “What kind of movies do you have?” She heard Stiles ask while she pulled a chair over to her closet. She stepped on to the chair and pulled a blue, plastic bin off the top shelf, stepping down with it in her hands. 

“Umm it’s a lot of old movies really,” she thumbed through the DVD boxes. “All the Jurassic Park movies, that are out at least, The Godfather movies, The Notebook,” she snorted while she flipped past it, “oh all the Star Wars ones, Harry Potter, Scooby-Doo!” She pulled out the last box and flipped it over seeing it contained many of the classic seasons in the box set. “It’s up to you though,” she walked over to the bed and placed the box down, “you’re the guest.”

She watched Stiles flip through the movies she had before he paused on Star Wars, “I mean,” he held the box up, “it’s my favorite movie.” She saw him look closely at the box, “but I’ve also seen it like a million times,” he mumbled to himself. 

Finley crossed her arms over her chest, “like I said. You’re the guest. You want to watch Star Wars,” she shrugged, “we watch Star Wars.” The Star Wars series had also been one of her favorites growing up. Cian claimed when he had been younger that one day, he would be a Jedi, eventually that dream shifted to working in law enforcement though. 

“Yeah,” Stiles slid the box back into the same place he had pulled it out from. “But you looked really excited when you saw this,” he pulled out the Scooby-Doo box. Finley bit her bottom lip while he held it out to her with a wide smile. “They’re detectives, I mean with my FBI experience, I’m half a detective. So, it should be enjoyable.” Finley let her bottom lip fall from between her teeth and smiled as she grabbed the box from Stiles, going to put the DVD into the player.

Stiles smiled and watched Finley while she walked over to where her television and DVD player were placed on top of her dresser. As much as he had wanted to watch Star Wars, he saw how happy she had been when she found the Scooby-Doo box and figured it was the least he could do, especially when she had gotten dinner and invited him to her room. He took a sip of the beer that he held while watching Finley bend down to plug in the DVD player.

He quickly averted his eyes from her ass as she bent down and focused on the thin layer of white foam that had settled on top of his beer. He had to wait to make a move until he had broken up with Lydia, he couldn’t cheat on her, even if he knew he would be breaking up with her two weeks later. Instead, he opted to pull his phone out and text Scott while Finley fiddled with the DVD player. 

“Scotty Boy, I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” he typed out the first message and sent it. “You know that wolfy thing where at first you can’t control when you turn? Yeah, that’s my hormones right now.” Stiles watched Finley tuck the DVD remote into the waistband of her shorts, if they could even be called that, before she picked up her own grilled cheese and hard coffee can.

Stiles felt his phone vibrate next to him while Finley set her food and can down on the bed. She pulled the DVD remote out of her shorts along with her phone from the other side, which she also set down on the bed. He looked over when he saw the screen on her phone light up and noticed that a notification for ‘Full Moon’ had popped up on her screen.

“You have two weeks man, and you just met her, can you really feel that drawn to her?” Scott had replied to his message. Stiles let out a loud sigh and Finley turned to look at him while she climbed into her bed, sitting down on the end opposite from Stiles. 

“Well, someone sounds upset,” she laughed picking up the DVD remote and pressing play. Stiles didn’t answer for a moment and instead pulled his grilled cheese box closer to himself, opening it up before looking over to Finley who was still watching him.

He looked into her eyes and shrugged, “just Scott being Scott,” he quickly made up an excuse, “he’s actually with my ex-girlfriend and it’s a whole long story,” that should be a good enough cover. 

“Oh damn,” Finley bit into her grilled cheese. “I’m sorry that must be rough,” she finished her thought. Stiles shrugged and took a bite of his own grilled cheese before trying to think of a proper response.

He swallowed the food in his mouth before continuing to speak, “actually it happened like naturally I guess, I can’t really be mad about it,” Stiles shrugged. “Besides, then I started dating Lydia and just life had gotten crazy, so I didn’t really have the time to complain about it and by the time I did I had already gotten over it.” Stiles picked up his phone and flipped it over again. 

“Isn’t there guy code?” Finley asked. “Like whatever girl code is?” Stiles leaned over the end of the bed to set his beer down on the dresser next to it. 

He shrugged, he wasn’t quite sure about guy code, and he hadn’t had the most conventional high school years to speak on it. “I mean, I’m sure there is,” he replied, “but me and Scott never really worried about I guess, petty stuff like that.” He watched Finley nod before she turned to look at the television. “Good luck with the full moon, by the way,” he sent Scott. 

“I don’t know much about girl code either,” she looked back to Stiles, “so I don’t even really know why I asked,” he watched her look down at her lap, like she wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure if she should. 

Stiles sighed before trying to think of something to continue the topic with, hoping to make her more comfortable around him. “I can also tell you that Scott made out with my current girlfriend once, well she kissed him,” he took another bite of his grilled cheese. “Now that I think about it,” he swallowed his food, “we have some weird little incestuous pit going on,” he laughed lightly. 

“The football players and lacrosse girls at my school were like that,” Finley turned to face Stiles better and crossed her legs. “I can like make a whole confusing web of who dated who, and who cheated on who with someone else, and who hooked up with whoever and then started dating but had previously dated someone else. It’s confusing really,” she took a long sip of her drink. 

Stiles shoved the last bite of his first half of grilled cheese into his mouth, “how’d you fit into that web?” He asked around his mouth full of food, wiping his hands on one of the napkins. 

Finley rolled her eyes while sighing, “do you really want to know?” She asked him.

“I mean-” Stiles shrugged with a small smile, “I’m intrigued now. This seems like an absolute mess.” He hadn’t realized Scott had texted him until his phone vibrated against his leg, and he flipped it over to see a string of texts from Scott. Stiles, however, chose to ignore it; flipping the ringer on his phone off so it wouldn’t vibrate anymore. 

Turning his attention back to Finley he watched as she fiddled nervously with the can in her hands, pressing indents into it where her fingers sat. “Uhh, well for starters I guess I have never dated anyone, never hooked up with anyone, never anything romantic with anyone,” he watched as a blush came over her face, traveling down her neck and past the collar of her shirt.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Stiles mumbled, feeling slightly guilty. Here he was, talking about all the girls he’d been with, which isn’t many, but still. He didn’t want Finley’s lack of experience to make her feel bad about herself. 

Finley shrugged while she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “I had been really interested in one of the guys in our friend group, he played on the line for the football team,” she let out a long sigh. “But then he started dating this other girl, they broke up, he asked me to prom-”

“Oh, so that’s good!” Stiles interrupted. Finley gave him a tiny smile, but he noticed how her lips dropped back down into half a frown.

“Yeah, but then on the night of prom,” she balanced the coffee can on her sock covered feet, avoiding eye contact with Stiles. “He wound up getting back with his ex and prom sucked,” she sighed. She looked up to see Stiles pulling at the napkin in his hands. “And I just made it awkward,” she mumbled.

Stiles’ head shot up at her words. “No!” He cleared his throat. “No, you didn’t! I just-” he tried to find the right words. “I just feel bad, you seem so, kind and genuine, and- and you deserve to be happy,” he offered her a sad smile in return. 

“I’ll find it eventually,” she mumbled, picking at the crust of her grilled cheese. She smelled the sympathy coming off Stiles, and she hated it. He felt bad for her, he just felt bad for her, he wasn’t actually interested in her, someone like him couldn’t be. She was also a supernatural freak, she bit the inside of her bottom lip, who would want to deal with that. She knew Stiles had before, but he and his were-ex hadn’t worked out.

After that a silence fell between the two of them, Finley picking at her grilled cheese while Stiles finished his. “I’m not really hungry anymore,” she pushed the mac and cheese container closer to him, “you can have it.” She saw that Stiles wanted to say something, but he hesitated. Instead, he slid their containers out of the way and set them on the dresser with his beer along with the napkins and forks.

“You really do deserve to be happy,” he said quietly, moving closer to Finley. She continued to chew on the inside of her lip to avoid crying and let out a long stream of air through her nose. “I’m serious,” he added. Finley set her drink on the desk and looked over to Stiles, her cheek resting on her knees while she did. His whiskey-colored eyes softened and he sighed, moving ever closer. 

Finley felt his warmth from where she sat and wanted to move closer, it was like his natural body temperature was trying to pull her even closer. That and his scent had mellowed out, it turned sweeter, relaxing even, like cinnamon and freshly dried clothes. “Like I said,” she let her lip fall from between her teeth, “eventually.” 

Stiles reached out and Finley didn’t protest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She immediately felt most of the tension seep out of her boy when he pulled her into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. With the tension leaving her body and Stiles’ warm scent wrapping around her she couldn’t control her emotions and felt a few tears slip out of her eyes, dripping off the tip of her nose. “Hey,” Stiles said quietly, “I promise eventually it’ll all work out.”

“It’s fine,” Finley sat up and wiped her eyes, “I just- I let my emotions get the best of me and I just, don’t usually do that,” she stumbled over her words. Stiles leaned back against the headboard of her bed before grabbing her by the shoulder again and pulling her into him. This was wrong, so, so, wrong, Finley thought to herself, but she gave in. Resting her head against his bicep Finley sighed and felt her eyes slip closed, she couldn’t fight it and wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’ll be happy soon,” she heard Stiles mumble, “I promise.”

[mummybear]

How Things Change - Part 14 - They’re here

Words: 3182

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Alex Savage(OC), Scott McCall, Deucalion, Derek Hale, Alan Deaton, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Sheriff Stilinski, Unknown people, Mentions of Peter Hale

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x (OC) Alex Savage

Warnings: Mentions of attacking, swearing think that’s it

The entire room couldn't help but stare at Stiles, as he stood there rigidly. But from what they could tell Stiles wasn't registering anything that they were saying.

Stiles stood there stock still, the only person or thing he could think of was Alex and how he needed to get back to her, keep her safe and protect her from anything that was going to hurt her. That's if she hadn't already been taken. Because they were coming for her while he was stuck in this room, with people who didn’t understand what was at stake. He didn't care that he was an alpha, or that they were worried, he simply wanted to get out. 

Then he finally snapped back to reality when he noticed Scott moving again he flicked his eyes up, meeting Scott's worried gaze.

Nothing was getting in his way of getting to Alex, not even his best friend. "Move, Scott. Or I'll go through you" Stiles growled menacingly, his eyes still glowing a fiery red but there were also unmistakable gold flecks swimming amongst the deep red.

Scott squared his shoulders, his eyes now glowing practically the same colour too, minus the gold flecks that Stiles' eyes still held. He knew Stiles was a danger to everyone right now, including Alex and himself. 

"Stiles, just stop. Think for one second" Scott replied keeping his voice low and under control, as he began to advance a little further on his friend.

"I said get back! Alex is in danger I need to go!" Stiles growled shoving his friend hard, so hard that Scott's back collided with the wall behind him. “I don’t have a second” Stiles stated before he was cornered again, he snarled as Deucalion stood in front of the door, blocking the only way out of the room.

“Just wait. Think about this, tell us what has you so worried and wound up. We can help you, protect Alex and keep you all safe Stiles, you know we can. I know it's her that's got you this riled up. So talk” the elder wolf reasoned calmly.

Stiles thought for a moment, in the brief haze of his anger he could feel the thoughts of doubt seeping into his mind. Was he about to do the right thing, or was he putting Alex in more danger going this alone?

Stepping back from the group Stiles stumbled slightly, shoving his shaking hands into his hair, he began tugging harshly at his hair with his hands. His nails digging into his scalp, a loud scream ripping through the room as he fought every instinct in his body and he slowly started to bury the wolf, slowly the red mist began to disappear from his vision.

Deucalion caught Stiles before his knees connected with the hard floor beneath him, and he helped him lean back against the wall instead.

“The wolf is a part of you Stiles, but you have to remember you are the boss. You must keep control of it, no matter how hard it seems at the time. You can’t let it take over, just be mindful that you do not bury it or yourself too deeply. Okay. Now just breathe” Deucalion instructed carefully.

Stiles began to struggle in his grip as if he were internally fighting the wolf, but the elder wolf didn’t budge, he simply closed his eyes, holding Stiles back against the wall and he whispered just three words. “Take control, Stiles”

Suddenly Stiles’ eyes flashed open, unfortunately, they were still glowing red, and his fingers sank in Deucalion’s arms, claws soon following suit. The elder man flinched a little, but he kept his stance, making sure to keep his eyes closed, in an attempt to keep Stiles as calm as possible, while the others looked on nervously.

Then something happened that distracted everyone, Stiles' phone started to ring. Stiles began to blink rapidly, then almost immediately the red began to fade from his eyes, he could feel his heart begin to thud in his chest as he collapsed back against the wall.

His hands began shaking and Deucalion let go of him, watching as the young man before him, Stiles had a terrified look wash over his face, his hands frantically smacking at his pockets. Until finally he found his phone.

Stiles' eyes widened at the name on the screen, he fumbled to swipe his phone to answer the call. Finally managing to do so he pressed it to his ear, "Lexi?" Stiles questioned nervously, his voice breaking at the mention of her name. As the others looked on worriedly, still unsure of what was going on.

"Stiles?" Alex whispered in reply, her voice sounding rough and husky.

"Baby? What's going on? Why are you whispering? Did you get away?" Stiles asked nervously, terrified that he already knew the answer.

There was a quiet shuffling on the other end of the line, Stiles found himself straining to listen. He pulled the device away from his ear and put it on speaker for everyone to hear, his hands just barely able to keep a hold of the phone.

"N-No I didn't. Melissa is with me, we're hiding. Derek and Deaton are distracting them, but I don't know how long they're gonna last out there, it sounds bad, Stiles you need to run. Someone bad is after us I don't know why, but whatever they're planning they need both of us, and we can't let that happen" Alex rushed out in a panic, her voice breaking as she spoke.

"I'm coming, Alex, I promise we won't let anything happen to you. I love you, okay. Stay put I won't be long" Stiles assured her, looking around the room and receiving nods from everyone, and Stiles and Scott shared a look.

"I knew you'd say that, but you can't. I love you so much" she half-laughed before her voice broke again, there was some shuffling then he heard her voice again. "They killed her Stiles, they killed my mum" she sobbed quietly into the phone, the sound almost broke Stiles' heart.

All of a sudden there was a loud terrifying scream and the line went dead.

Everyone in the room was looking at Stiles when he looked up all of them held a look of horror. Especially Scott who held out his hand to Stiles, swallowing hard, as their eyes met neither could hide their worry or tears. "What's the plan?" the sheriff asked placing a hand on both boys shoulders.

"Think they can handle three alphas?" Stiles growled Scott and Deucalion nodded in agreement.

"What about us?" the sheriff questioned in confusion.

"You need to stay here dad, Mr argent can keep you safe in case they come looking for you. I can't have them getting you too, they will use you as leverage" Stiles sighed sadly pulling his dad into a hug, which the older man happily received before his son's words sank in.

"Wait, no. You're not going without me" the sheriff said shocked that his son would even suggest such a thing.

"He's right, sheriff" Chris agreed, he felt bad knowing in this situation nothing would keep him being with Allison if it were her instead.

"No, no way in hell. Over my dead body" the sheriff declared angrily, fixing his son with a look that Stiles was used to after the last few years. Any other day it may have worked but not today.

"Dad! That's exactly what I'm worried about if you come, You're not coming! I can't risk you as well, I can't protect you as well I need to stay focused on getting Alex back. Mr argent can tell you what the hell is going on, while we're gone" Stiles growled, but his voice held no anger. He was scared, terrified at the thought of losing his father. "I'm sorry, we need to go. Just stay here, we'll be back soon" Stiles assured his father sadly, ignoring the tears that slipped down his cheek.

His father swallowed every instinct in his body, looking at his son now he knew he was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. He pulled him into his chest tightly, "You come back to me, you hear. You are the only thing I have left in this world. If you're not back in two hours then I'm coming to find you" the sheriff warned him.

As Scott received a hug and a few words from Chris, Stiles pulled back from his father, with a sad smile and a nod. "Got it" Stiles agreed. Before leaving with Scott and Deucalion.

"Do we run or take a car?" Stiles questioned, as Scott passed him a spare hoodie.

"We run, of course," Deucalion smirked at the boys, before sprinting off ahead of the pair.

Stiles rolled his eyes but the pair of them quickly sped after Deucalion.

"Okay, so since we haven't heard anything else, we go to the clinic first. We just have to hope that they are all still there" Deucalion answered the question that nobody had yet asked.

The closer that they got to the clinic, the more at ease Stiles began to feel. Suddenly however a feeling of dread and terror took over his body, as Alex's feelings began to flood into his mind and body. The intensity of her feelings was so strong, so sudden that Stiles found himself beginning to trip over his feet.

Until he finally lost the battle with his feet and collapsed, landing in a heap on the forest floor just outside their destination.

"Stiles?" Scott asked in a rushed panic, skidding to a stop beside his best friend and helping him back onto his still very shaky legs.

"What is it?" Deucalion questioned, quickly jogging over to the pair sounding just as worried as Scott had just second before him, finding Stiles relying on Scott to keep him standing in that moment.

"Can't you smell that?" Stiles questioned them in shock.

Scott frowned at his best friend in confusion but Deucalion immediately understood what he was getting at, as his legs began to shake slightly. "Fear, how are you even standing?" Deucalion questioned, looking down at Stiles.

"I have to get to her" Stiles uttered simply, the pain and suffering clear in his voice.

As soon as Scott inhaled he knew what they were talking about, "Why is it so much worse for Stiles?" Scott questioned, as they helped Stiles walk to the edge of the woods so that they could finally see the clinic.

"Get down!" Deucalion warned harshly, pushing both boys to the ground into the dirt, right in-between two large bushes, luckily they were just about big enough to conceal all three of them from the view of any passers-by.

All of a sudden the three of them could see people being shoved from the front door. Straining to listen, Stiles immediately locked on to Alex's voice, as if she were the only one there. "Get your hands off of them. You've got me you bunch of psychopaths, now let them go!" she seethed angrily, as she was shoved by the guy walking behind her.

Stiles made a move to go after her and rip the guy's face-off, but Deucalion seemingly read his mind. Placing a hand on his back and shook his head at the young boy before him.

'Not yet' Deucalion mouthed to Stiles, just as Melissa came out behind her and grabbed hold of her tightly. An older man attempted to pull Alex off of Melissa.

Then Alex seemingly snapped, her voice was eerily calm as she spoke, but the venom that laced her words sent a shiver up all three men's spines as they looked on. "If you ever touch her again, we will have a very big problem. She is the only thing stopping me, from ripping your throat out, with my teeth" Alex snarled hatefully.

"Do as she says, just get them in the car. We don't have time for this, so get moving. Now! The boss has waited long enough already" they heard a woman say from inside the car.

Seemingly none of them recognised this woman's voice, as each wolf just looked as confused as the other. It took every ounce of strength Stiles had not to stop Alex from climbing into that car, but he knew Deucalion was right, they needed to wait, follow them and find out where they were going.

Once everyone was inside the car, Scott went to get to his feet, but before he got halfway up Deucalion pulled him back down. "Wait. Alex can probably sense Stiles is close already, we can't risk them sensing something is off with her, we have got to be smart about this, we need to let them head off first. Trust me" the older wolf whispered. Scott sighed, irritation clear in his voice, as he began digging his nails into his palms, he reluctantly nodded in agreement all the same.

"What if we lose them?" Scott questioned after a moments thought.

"We won't. No way that Stiles will lose her scent now. It's been too long they've been apart, now that they're close the pull is stronger now, than its ever been" Deucalion revealed, not surprising either of them.

Stiles frowned at his answer, "Look, I don't disagree. I won't lose her scent, but won't they know that we're following them. Won't three werewolves following their car be just a little obvious" Stiles asked a little sarcastically.

"Just keep quiet and follow me" Deucalion sighed, slipping off into the trees behind them.

"Do we actually need him?" Stiles huffed stopping Scott from following the older wolf for a moment.

"Yeah man, I think we do. He knows more about you and Alex that anyone else. Not only that but we are gonna need help to pull this off, someone who knows what they're doing. Especially if we want to do this, without anyone getting hurt" Scott answered honestly, clapping Stiles on the shoulder with a firm hand, causing him to follow after Scott a little reluctantly.

They quickly met up with Deucalion, "I've just received a message from your dad and Chris at the bunker. A few undesirables are lurking around, luckily they haven't managed to find the way in yet. They're gonna keep us updated, so don't worry" he said focusing mainly on Stiles.

"This night is turning into a complete dis-" Stiles started, but he was cut off mid-sentence, by the rumbling of an engine.

"Okay, let's go," Deucalion said quietly, his red eyes glowing in the dark woods, Scott and Stiles got the hint. Both of their eyes now glowing too, making it so much easier to make out everything around them.

'This ends tonight' Stiles thought to himself as they fought their way through the thick forest, now following Stiles and his 'Alex detector'.

The back of the car

As the car pulled away Alex felt a hand squeeze her hand tightly. "Are you okay?" Alex questioned quickly, turning to face Melissa.

Melissa smiled sadly, "That is typical you sweetheart, always worrying about everyone else," Melissa said truthfully, Alex looking away a little ashamed that she couldn't stop this. "I'm fine, thank's to you. But I'm not the one who was stabbed, how're you feeling?" Melissa questioned moving her spare hand to rest over the wound.

'You're one to talk' Alex thought to herself, with a small inward laugh, "I'll be okay. Still hurts like all hell, but I'm still alive thanks to you, as usual," Alex smiled, squeezing her hand back.  

Alex looked around the car for a moment, a frown quickly forming on her face when she realised someone was missing, "Where's my uncle? What have you done with Derek?" Alex asked trying to keep her voice calm and as even as possible.

"Keep quiet" a man in the front seat grumbled.

Alex released Melissa's hand, not wanting to hurt her as she felt the anger inside her building. "I said where the fuck is Derek?! I'm talking to the organ grinder, not the monkey!" Alex spat, catching the woman's eyes in the rearview mirror.

The woman smirked at her, seemingly impressed with Alex's attitude. "He's safe" she answered calmly.

Alex was having none of it however, she raised her eyebrows and shifted in her seat, her gold eyes unmoving from the women. "Did I stutter? We both know I could jump across this seat and kill all of you, so answer my question. Where. Is. Derek?" Alex asked again her tone dangerously calm compared to a moment ago.

The woman in the front chuckled, "I like you" the woman admitted with a smirk, before continuing "Yes, you're right you could kill us. But we both know you won't, otherwise, you would have already. I do respect you, Alexandria, but make no mistake. I am the one in charge right here and right now, one wrong move from you I will put a bullet in your friend's brain" the woman informed her simply, her words and voice made Alex's blood boil with rage, but she was right. Alex would never do anything that would risk Melissa's life.

"That being said, as a sign of good faith your uncle with be returned to you once we arrive" she informed Alex, but something didn't sit right with Alex, why return him at all, why were they even bringing Derek and Melissa, what about Deaton?

"Alive?" Alex questioned skeptically.

"Of course" the woman replied, with a smile which unsettled Alex to her very core.

"What about Deaton? The vet?" Alex questioned, confused to why he hadn't been mentioned.

Alex could have sworn she heard an angry growl come from the front seat, "You have a lot of questions don't you" the woman stated beginning to sound a little irritated, to say the least. "He got away," she said shortly, her tone clipped.

Alex smiled to herself a little, then she remembered her mother and her heart broke all over again. A lone tear rolled down her cheek and she felt a hand on her arm, along with a gentle squeeze. She covered Melissa's hand with her own, the tears beginning to fall more freely but she had to know, whether or not it made her sound weak she didn't care.

"Why? Why did you kill my mother?" Alex questioned threw her tears, her voice coming out a little more croaky than she would have liked it too.

"It was necessary" the woman sighed.

"What the hell does that mean?" Alex exclaimed loudly.

"When you are able to, that may be a question best asked of your father" she replied quickly.

"What the hell? Why would I ask Peter?" Alex questioned paired with the anger she still had for her father she almost shot out of her seat.

"We did it under his instruction, all will be clear very soon. Now enough talking" the woman argued stiffly, pulling down a midsection divide between the back and front of the car.

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