#Radio was once a cinnamon roll through and through but the twins showed him the 'dark side'

[honestandsincere]

musicality

O C T O B E R  2 0 1 9  / /   E L   R E Y  T H E A T R E ‘ S  B A T T L E  O F  T H E  B A N D S

There are certain moments in life in which one can tell are important. Even without the benefits of hindsight, you just know that whatever is happening is pivotal, memorable. Life is appreciated retrospectively until you are submerged in scenarios and situations that seem significant.

Ethan knows this is important, he's known this for a while. He's had time to mentally prepare himself for the sudden surge of dread that washes over him, the stickiness of his palms and the tsunamis of self-doubt. This is a big moment, it will be a big moment, and he does not need hindsight to figure this out. He feels as though he's in some coming-of-age Disney Channel movie his sister used to watch when she'd monopolize the television during summer vacations. Ethan's worked hard for this, he just doesn't want to play a sepia montage of childhood to understand this moment's importance.

He thinks of his first-ever music lesson, with Mr Schumer in first grade. He remembers the maracas being nauseatingly sticky and the tambourine's tiny cymbals being stuck together by some unidentifiable congealed substance. His backside was numb from being sat crosslegged on the linoleum floor, his legs tingling with pins and needles, but he remembers feeling overwhelmingly happy. The tinny ringing of the background disk hummed in the stuffy classroom air as innocently unrhythmic arms shook instruments violently, grins plastered on lunch-stained faces. Ethan tastes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

He ran into Mr Schumer a few weeks back, in the supermarket. He was buying wine for his wife, he'd told Ethan it was their fifteen-year anniversary. This made Ethan feel old, he recalled a clean-shaven young man bringing his girlfriend into their classroom on a Friday afternoon, subjecting her to their inquisitive eyes and naively inappropriate questions. Mr Schumer knew about the band, he said he'd seen them on posters plastered on street corners, even heard the odd song on the local radio station. Apparently, he always knew that Ethan would pursue music, or at least something creative. This was strange because Ethan was never prodigal or exceptionally good, he must have been enthusiastic.

Ethan thinks about the first time he really listened to music. It was when he and his father had taken a drive out of town to fetch the Christmas tree from a family friend's farm. Grayson could barely breathe through his clogged sinuses and Cameron was helping their mother assemble a gingerbread house, too afraid to face the cold. Ethan reckons he must have been around six. Just him and his dad in their car. This was when he'd first been introduced to The Beegees, his father urging him to appreciate 'proper' music. Ethan relives the fact he was unable to comprehend why Barry, Robin and Maurice were singing in such high-pitched voices, marvelling at their ability to not sound stupid. 'I know your eyes in the morning sun' were words he'd soon know but not fully understand, as familiar as the taste of cinnamon and cloves.

"You nervous?"

His brother's lumbering entrance cracks open his blissful reverie. Grayson looks positively terrified, his face pale and eyebrows drawn inward into an unsettling crease. His frame fills the doorframe, blocking the neon lighting of the hallway. The dressing room falls dim. Ethan licks his lips in search of words but decides to shake his head anyway.

"You know, nerves are good. They mean you give a shit, and that's important."

Ethan doesn't reply. Grayson, suddenly alarmed by his silence continues. "Everyone believes in you, E. You guys have got this in the bag - like you've basically already won. Pretty much everyone in the crowd is wearing a SU t-shirt."

Ethan turns to look at himself in the mirror. Sadly, it is not framed with dying lightbulbs, it's not particularly atmospheric. He notes that he doesn't look especially nervous or apprehensive, he looks normal. Griff had told him to dress nice, Ethan does not really know what that means.  He settled for black jeans and an oversized white t-shirt, he looks like himself. "If you wanna talk about it, you know, vent and like let everything out, you can-" "I'm fine, Gray." "That's the kind of shit nervous people say." "I'm not nervous." "OK," Grayson does not sound very convinced, he rolls his eyes at his brother's stoicism, "Griff and Manny have gone for a drink." "I know." "Are they planning on getting drunk or something?" "They're getting coffee." "Oh."

Ethan runs a tattooed hand through his hair, purposefully dishevelling it to his desired look. He gives himself another glance in the mirror, then turns to sit on the fake leather couch the venue has provided them, crossing one leg over the other. Maybe he should have accepted Griff's invitation to join them on their venture for coffee, he feels encased in the grimy walls of their dressing room. Grayson appears jittery; he fiddles with the signet ring on his index finger, twisting it relentlessly. This is his first time backstage and it shows.

"Mom and Cam are in the audience," he says once he's bored of his heirloom jewellery. "Mom's here?" Ethan can't tell whether the knowledge of his mother's presence in the crowd makes him feel better or worse. "In merch and all." "Jesus."

Ethan imagines his mother being thrown about in the sweat-drenched mosh, her perfectly styled hair getting tousled by rambunctious, inebriated youths. He can picture her grimace, grinning through the pain for the sake of her son, singing words she's not too fond of but were written in her garage. She never really wanted him to pursue the band, she didn't think it would amount to anything worthwhile; a trio of slightly overzealous boys writing songs about girls who listen to The Smiths and drink vodka straight. Ethan's mother loves him, she wants the best for him and until the video of the boys performing a Beatles song when viral on YouTube, she had assumed law school was the way to go.

"Don't let Manny curse," Grayson's eyes are wide with trivial fear. "I can't make any promises."

It's incredibly naive to assume that Manny won't speak profanely onstage, it's very rare that he does not. Being on the synthesizer, he is restricted from engaging with the crowd the same way in which Griff, their frontman can. Manny has developed an affinity for screaming various explosives into his mic as the beat drops in their more upbeat songs, grinning wide with unabashed pride as the audience cheers in response. Both Ethan and Grayson know their mother will not be impressed, it's almost as though they are constantly trying to prove to her that this was the right decision. Letting them move to Los Angeles to follow their dreams was not an easy thing for her to do, they knew this all too well.

"Do you know which song you're gonna play?" Grayson moves to perch himself against the precarious dressing table, his broad frame covering the mirror entirely, "Probably There's a Reason Why." "Nice," he elongates the vowel. "It's the video that has the most views, we're assuming that it's the one that people are most likely to know." "Smart move."

Griffin Fraser is trustworthy. Of all people, Grayson Dolan would know this. When he scuffed his knee on the kindergarten tarmac on their first day of school, to when his collarbone popped out on the football field during their championship game, Griff was there. With floppy hair and a tendency to speak almost irritatingly slowly, Griff has always been a hit with the ladies, swanning his way through school at the top of the hierarchy. As Grayson's best friend and Ethan's bandmate, it's almost as though he's their triplet - a third Dolan brother. His voice sounds like the lovechild of a Gallagher brother and an indistinguishable eighties superstar that everyone's uncle adores. Griff calls the shots and nobody complains.

"What are Patchwork gonna play?" "I overheard their Stefan talking to one of the runners, I didn't recognise the song's name. That can't be a good thing."

Ethan shakes his head in denial, Patchwork are good. LA natives with catchy melodies and heavy bass, they're popular at house parties and with those lighting spliffs in their parents' basements. Ethan listens to them himself, he likes their stuff. With three edgy musicians oozing sex appeal and singing about problematic boyfriends and systematic sexism, they are always crowd-pleasers. This battle had become a war as soon as El Rey had announced that the competition would pit Sunday’s Unrest (Ethan’s band) against Patchwork. Things get personal when bands are compared, particularly when they are familiar with one another. Ethan is too familiar with Patchwork. Too caught up in figuring out whether this familiarity is a blessing or a curse. "I wouldn't worry about them, E." "This is a competition, I'm supposed to worry." "Not if you're the best band." "That's not up to you to decide." "Unfortunately."

There's a laugh from outside. A loud, ferocious female laugh that has Ethan and Grayson sharing a confused look. She waltzes into the room without knocking on the opened door, her hair fanning behind her. "No way were you just listening to our conversation," the younger twin groans, running a hand over his face. "This is a competition," she mocks, a smirk taking over her flushed face and Ethan wishes he doesn’t recall how her lips taste, "I'm supposed to eavesdrop."

Ethan rolls his eyes at her, not being able to believe the fact he hadn't seen this coming. The intimidation tactic. Sending Y/N Y/L/N into their dressing room as a means of psyching the band out, getting into his head. Dangling the most brilliant prize in front of him, only to snatch it away with his own regret. It’s just him and her. And his brother. "Nice to see you, Y/N," he deadpans, untangling his legs and sitting upright on the couch. "You too, E," she leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms over her chest.

Y/N Y/L/N could easily be the face of her generation. She's just too cool. In a worn looking Paul McCartney T-shirt and a black miniskirt, Y/N exudes confidence. Her effortlessly messy hair has been tucked behind her ears, showing an array of silver studs in her lobes. An embodiment of edgy, the perfect frontwoman. Patchwork burst onto the music scene a few years ago, garnering attention with their memorable choruses and ability to soundtrack melancholy lyrics with an upbeat melody. Y/N, a personable and eccentric vocalist and guitarist, is venerated by many a journalist. Her interviews go viral online as she giggles and charms her way through somewhat tricky questions, always relatable and consistently loveable. There's Maria on the drums. She's rather quiet, not usually partaking much in press events but is gorgeous nonetheless, in a mysterious nobody-can-tell-what-she's-thinking-but-they-want-to-know-everything-about-her kind of way. Sara is on bass, she's the funny member of the band, hilariously clumsy and adorable. Her self-deprecating sense of humour makes her a hit with audience members as she cracks jokes at her own expense during their sets. Patchwork are the whole package, people either want to sleep with them or be them. It's almost irritating how perfect they are.

"How've you been, Y/N?" Grayson asks politely, cocking his head to one side as though the analyze her every detail. "Not too bad, I'm a little nervous though," there's an edge to her voice that sounds sincere, Ethan wants to feel sympathy for her because he can empathize wholeheartedly. But, she's competition and he desperately wants to detach any feeling from her. Grayson nods his head slowly, unsure of what to say. It's as though he doesn't want to offer her comfort in fear that it might give her a sudden boost of confidence which, in turn, would lead to Patchwork winning the competition. Is he a sadist?

"What song are you guys playing tonight?" Y/N looks at Ethan almost hopefully. He figures there's no harm telling the truth, "There's a Reason Why." "I like that one." "Yeah, me too."

Grayson senses some uneasiness in the room, as though they're dancing around a topic that he is utterly unaware of. It's like they're communicating telepathically or something. He feels a slight pang of jealous, telepathy is his and Ethan's thing. "What about you, Y/N?" he asks, despite knowing the answer. "If I Could Change Your Mind," she shrugs, "it's kind of an old one." "I know it," Ethan says with a certain intensity that makes her pout a little, her bottom lip jutting outwards ever so slightly. "I expect to see you singing along then," Y/N says, looking at him intently before turning on her heel and walking out through the opened door.

"May the best band win!" she calls from down the corridor.

---- D E C E M B E R  2 0 1 8  / /  A N   U N K N O W N   B A R   I N   L A

The room is gently spinning. The edges of objects like tables and chairs are soft and blur into one another. This is a suitable state of tipsy. Appropriate. Enjoyable but sensible, knocking the edge off. Ethan, Manny and Griff are celebrating. Charlamagne just went gold and they could not be happier. They're not even twenty-one but their management (consisting of a middle-aged man named Stefan) snuck them into this indistinctive bar downtown, buying rounds of drink and clapping each of the boys on the back.

"We've made it," Manny slurs, "We've actually fucking made it. Shit. Fuck." "I know," Griff's eyes are wide and he looks as though he's seeing in colour for the first time in his life, "this is insane." "Really insane," is all Ethan can manage.

He sips at his whisky, unable to distinguish whether he enjoys the burn it leaves in his throat. He's never gone out drinking before, only ever passed around a bottle of wine or gotten pissed of Manny's dad's beers in their basement. This is what being a rockstar tastes like, he thinks. Ethan called Grayson a few hours ago to tell him the news. Then he'd called his mother and then his grandmother and then his aunt and then he'd shoved his phone into his back pocket and shaken his head in disbelief. The song he's written. The song he'd shown Griff and asked for some help with. The song Manny said was shit, to begin with, but then actually really liked once they got to play it. Charlamagne. Gold.

"We're fucking famous," says Manny, puffing out his chest a little. "Sort of," Ethan half laughs. "Three boys from New Jersey with weird music tastes," Griff muses, "this is the kind of shit they make movies about." "Indie movies," Ethan clarifies.

He lets his eyes roam across the room for a second, dancing over the warped figures in his drunken haze. And that's when he sees her. The girl he'd hooked up with within the first month of moving to Los Angeles. The one with the weird taste in music like him, with the messy hair and wide smile and obnoxious laugh. It had been at Griff's apartment, (it was essentially a room in an almost dilapidated building, Griffin used words like 'rustic' and 'charming' in order to describe it) she'd flirted nonchalantly with him and he was slightly enamoured. Ethan thought she was perfect; her snide remarks at Manny's bad jokes, the way she and her bandmates acted like sibling rather than colleagues and the way she told him his Jersey accent was impossibly strong. Ethan doesn't think he has an accent. They'd vanished into Griff's 'bedroom', high on adrenaline and Manny and Sara's secondhand smoke. Neither of them was intoxicated, and yet the night is a blur of tangled limbs and sheer excitement with flashes of clarity in her laugh and smile.

Y/N Y/L/N.

She's here with her band too, he remembers that Stefan is also their manager. They are good. Stitchwork? Crochet? Patchwork. "Holy shit! It's Maria! And Sara! Fucking hell, Y/N!" Manny yells, drawing the attention of all the drinkers in the velvet-adorned room.

The three girls seem so glide towards them, catching eyes and throwing smiles in all directions like confetti. Ethan notices that Stefan catches them before Patchwork meets Sunday's Unrest. Their manager is gesticulating wildly, causing Y/N to chuckle, Maria to snort and Sara rolls her eyes mockingly. He thinks maybe Stefan is warning them of the state of the boys' drunkenness as if to preface their meeting with a few words of caution. Ethan figures this is sensible.

"Get over here!" Manny howls, waving his heavy arms above his head like he's drowning in a cola and Bacardi riptide. "If it isn't Captain Fuckboy and his devout followers!" Sara retorts, swaggering past her manager and straight towards the boys' booth. Griff's eyebrows draw inwards, "Sara, are you pissed?" "Pissed off," she shrugs, folding her arms over her leather-clad chest and glaring at Ethan Dolan with intensity.

Shit.

"Oh," Manny is as smug as a younger sibling, grinning at Ethan with little camaraderie, "you're talking about Ethan." "You know I am." "Listen, neither Manuel or I am responsible for our bandmate's endeavours," Griffin attempts to sound unfazed. Ethan has nothing to say, he feels his cheeks heating up with what could be embarrassment or shame, but he's reached the stage of drunkenness in which all emotions bleed into a melancholic mess.

Sara ignores both of the floppy-haired boys, her stare focusing on Ethan, "You could have called her, or texted her. She really liked you."

Ethan Dolan is not a douchebag. He does not mess girls around, he never has and doubts he ever will. But he slipped up when it comes to Y/N Y/L/N. To say he is intimidated by her is a pathetic excuse, but it's the closest he can come to an explanation. Guys like him do not get with girls like her, she's too cool. He was scared, terrified of his imminent failure when it comes to dating. So he decided it would be best if he pretended their encounter never happened. It gave him peace of mind for maybe an hour or so. "I didn't think Y/N wanted to pursue anything," is what comes out of his mouth, his voice sounds alien.

"You're a dick, Ethan."

----

O C T O B E R  2 0 1 9

Grayson Dolan waits until the girl in the Paul McCartney t-shirt is out of earshot. He listens to the rhythmic clicking of her ankle-boots on the hallway floor, hearing them fade until he and his brother are sat in silence. "Remind me when you wrote the song," he says. "Excuse me?" "Remind me when you wrote There's A Reason Why." "I don't know, man. Like this time last year?" Ethan knows exactly when he wrote it, he can tell you which room it was written in. "Right," his brother doesn't sound convinced.

It's about Y/N. It's blatantly obvious that Ethan Dolan wrote the song about her. Or at least about that night in the unknown bar, avoiding her the whole time they were there. It's about how she tried to make conversation with him, asking him if he's been busy, fishing for clues as to why he never replied to her texts or answered her calls.

Y/N does not chase anyone, she gets chased. Ethan Dolan was the only exception. He was worth chasing. She reached out to him maybe five or six times, kicking herself when she'd been ignored. She's better than that and she knew it.

Ethan puffs air through his lips, drumming his palms quickly on his thighs and stands up. He stretches his tense arms out in front of him, shaking away his apprehension. This is too important, this opportunity is too big. He can't let himself fall into the chasm of anxious thoughts, all the 'what ifs' and 'maybes'.

"I'm gonna go find Griff and Manny," he rasps.

----

D E C E M B E R  2 0 1 8

He can't feel his hands. He watches his fingers press down on the stiff keys, he hears the sound it makes. But his hands are numb. His head spins, his chest burning with the leftover alcohol. He'd staggered into his apartment, making a beeline for his bedroom. Ethan needs to write, or at least map out a melody for a tune that's swimming around in his head. He's a drummer by nature, rhythms are practically ingrained in his identity, but this melody is so salient in his mind that he has no choice but to get it out.

'There's a reason why I never returned your calls I wish I could forget it all But I never returned your calls 'Cause I'd fall in again'

He hums as he mixes various chords. The electronic ring of the Casio comforting his dissociated haze. Seeing her has brought it all back, the fear. Ethan needs her out of his system and the best way to dispel her lingering legacy is through his lyrics. He won't sing them because he's not a singer, he can't slur notes together smoothly the way Griffin can, his pronunciation is not as seductive or as nice to listen to. Ethan carries the tune. Pulling out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, Ethan records the succession of chords he's just haphazardly composed.

G. C. G. C. D. C.

It's lighthearted, it sounds like a synth-pop song that his mother would hum in the car as she drove him and his brother to football practice. The chords are simple and memorable, but his lyrics need to explain what he's feeling. How he has felt.

'Don't talk I'd have run to kiss your mouth Is it me Or just a dream that never dies?'

The words are forming effortlessly, flowing into one another without much of a struggle. Ethan reminds himself that he is very drunk and it is very likely that this sounds really awful, but he keeps going, somehow recording a few verses and the skeletons of a bridge. He likes it. He'd listen to it if it was being played on the radio, maybe he'd even turn it up. Manny could work wonder with some kind of synth-riff melody hybrids he conjures up when they rehearse. Griff could add some quirkiness with his performance, maybe changing up the melody a little to suit his voice. Ethan plays the recording back to himself, cringing at how bare his voice sounds. It's raspy and sonorous, but the melody is clear and is catchy. He taps out a beat on his legs, imagining the song post-production. He closes his eyes, trying his best to picture the band onstage, seeing the faces of thousands of enthused fans belting the lyrics he's just written. The music video would have to be eighties inspired, perhaps they could hire some dancers or something or film it in a proper studio.

He's tempted to crawl to his drum set that currently lives in his living room. He wants to play on top of the recording, hear it properly. Ethan's limbs are too heavy, his body weak with tequila and guilt. How was he to know that Y/N actually liked him? Jesus, he is stupid. Ethan wants to apologise to her but he knows that would make him look bad, desperate even. As if sliding back into her text messages to say sorry for pretending their little rendezvous didn't happen would somehow make her want him again. Sorry is a great word, but it only goes so far.

Ethan must have fallen asleep at the keyboard. He wakes the next morning to light streaming through his opened blinds. Head pounding, nausea pulsing through him. He needs water and an aspirin.

This song is a fucking bop.

------

O C T O B E R  2 0 1 9

She's gorgeous. Otherworldly in the misty blue lights of the stage. She looks back at Maria, watching the brunette hits out a count of four with her sticks. Sara strums a chord, enticing the audience into the introduction of their song; a twang of the guitar and a heavy beat. On each accent, she throws her head back, her grin lighting up her face. The lights change colour to dusty pink, framing the girls and encapturing their beauty. Everyone has been sucked into their world, desperate to live in it.

Y/N presses her lips to the mic, tucking her hair behind her ear to keep it from her eyes. She glances at the people lining the front of the stage, smirking knowingly. She has them wrapped around her finger. On the cue of her voice, the beat drops. Maria pushes on with the pounding rhythm, hypnotizing and sharp. Sara quickly plucks a riff that has even Manny cheering.

'No Please don't cry I've never done this before Drove a million miles'

She's breathing melodically as if music pours from her soul. Y/N doesn't even look like she's trying, hitting every punch of the beat with her body. Swaying side to side as she fills the auditorium with high tempo melancholy. Ethan is so in awe of her. He wants her presence, wants to be that good of a performer. He's jealous of Maria's ability to keep perfect time, even as they play live. He wants to play the bass guitar with Sara's dexterity and verve. He wants Y/N.

'If I could change your mind I would hit the ground running It took time to realize And I never saw it coming Forgive my lying eyes Gonna give you all or nothing If I could change your mind I could make you mine, make you mine'

It's a great song. Like Grayson had mentioned earlier, it's not one he recognises. However, as he looks out into the mismatched faces of the audience, he notices that the majority of them seem to know the words. People are singing along, screaming and dancing. He wonders if his mother is enjoying, if Cameron is impressed. He certainly is.

"They're good, E," Grayson yells over the amps from behind him. "I know." "I wonder if this one's about you."

He does not have to turn around to see the smirk on his brother's face. This song is not about him, Y/N would never immortalise him in music. He's not great enough. There’s nothing to say that Maria or Sara did not write this song, it’s not exactly explicit. This song has a deep sentimental value to someone, his relationship (if it can even be called that) with Y/N is not one of deep sentimental value. Yes, it’s the main cause of all his daydreams - but it’s not love. He loves the idea of being in love with her, reckons he probably could fall in love with her within a few days. It’s utterly terrifying when it’s put into practice.

She turns to the wings, grinning at Manny who is bopping fiercely along to the tune. It’s as if the world presses the fastforward button on its remote when her eyes meet his. Everything rapidly speeds up, it’s almost headache-inducing. She’s narrowed her glitter-lined eyes gently, as if to focus on his features, to gauge whether or not he’s enjoying her performance. Y/N brings the mic to her lips, juts out her hip and sings to him. Regardless of whether or not the song was written about him or even written by her, this bit stings;

‘But if I was to say I regret it Would it mean a thing?’

Battles in the music world are dangerous, in the same way they are common. Battles in the music world with unexplored and unfinished feelings are incredibly perilous, in the same way they are uncommon. Ethan takes a deep breath.

------------

Hello! Long time no see! I’ve been so confused recently, but I was inspired by the lovely @ethanhes‘ post of a sort of band-inspired collage. I hope you guys like this! I’ve used Blossoms and HAIM’s music for each band, I just really love the vibe of the music and the lyrics seemed too appropriate! Lots of love x

[lordofassgard]

Evil {Part 2}

Requested: | yes | no |

Maybe continue it where Theo and the reader start to get closer and maybe slowly develop feelings for each other? And maybe the reader has a feeling or knows that Theo has other intentions but knows that he isn’t truly evil and like super fluffy and caring stuff because I feel like Theo isn’t cared about enough lol he really isn’t

Pairing: Theo Raeken x f!Reader

Summary: The reader is Stiles’ twin sister and doesn’t think Theo is evil. That is until weird things start to happen she finally understands what her brother meant all along

Word Count: 4.1k+

Warnings: cursing like once, Stiles being a dick to Theo

A/N: I’m so sorry it took me so long to do this, I’ve been busy as fuck. The request didn’t really turned out like I originally planned but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I know I said I was going to turn Evil into a series but I like the way this ended so yeah, Evil ends here. Also, thank you so much to the nonnie who requested this ily and I hope you like it 💕

check navigation for masterlist

Part 1 || Part 2 find part 1 in my masterlist

Disclaimer: I feel like I need to say this I don’t think Theo is evil omg he’s a cinnamon roll who made a few mistakes

You were bored as you sat in the cafeteria with the pack at lunch. They were talking in pairs but you didn’t feel like it. Instead, you scrolled through your social media to pass the time.

“So, I was thinking…” Lydia started and the pack went quiet to hear her “Maybe after school we could go bowling.”

“Sounds good.” Stiles was the first to answer making you roll your eyes. He needed to tell Lydia how we felt because you couldn’t take him squealing like a schoolgirl about how cute Lydia’s braid looked.

“Yeah, I’m in.” Scott and Kira nodded.

“I guess…” Malia shrugged.

“I can’t…” Liam frowned “It’s movie night with Mason.”

“What about you (Y/N)?” Stiles turned to you.

“Sure.” You shrugged “I don’t have any plans.”

“You never have plans.” Your brother teased and you rolled your eyes.

You listened while they arranged things for that afternoon. At 5 pm after school, you’d meet at the bowling alley where you had been countless times in your entire life. When the bell rang, you, Scott, Kira and Lydia walked together to Biology while the others went to their classes.

“Hey (Y/N)” You heard someone call your name as soon as you walked in.

Theo waved to get your attention and smiled when your eyes landed on him.

“I saved you a seat.” He pointed to the empty chair next to him.

You looked back at Lydia, you usually sat with her but she nudged you towards Theo’s table with a smirk.

“Go!” She whispered.

You shook your head with a laugh and walked towards Theo.

“Hi! Thanks.” You thanked him when you sat down.

“No problem.”

The teacher walked in and the both of you started paying attention. That was until he whispered your name during class.

“Do you have plans after school?”

“Yeah, I’m going bowling with the pack. You wanna come with us?”

“I don’t know…” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Hold up…”

You took your phone out of your bag and went to your group chat with the pack.

[You]: Hey guys, I’m bringing Theo today

[Han Stiles]: No you’re not…

[Angry Bean]: ^^^

[You]: Liam you shouldn’t text in class

[Han Stiles]: Neither should you…

[You]: Okay

[You]: So why can’t I bring Theo?

[Han Stiles]: Because I don’t like him, he’s shady and he’s not part of the pack

[You]: Guys, I know you’re reading this back me up here

[Lyds]: I don’t see what’s wrong…

[McAlpha]: We’re in class guys…

[Maliaaa]: Why can’t she bring Theo?

[Foxie]: Idk…

[You]: @ Kira explain

[Foxie]: I’m not against it but things will get awkward if Theo comes

[You]: Is it because of my brother?

[You]: That’s a stupid question of course it is…

[You]: You know what? If you guys can’t accept a friend of mine don’t wait for me to show up

[You]: Have fun

You locked your phone with a frown and turned to Theo trying to brighten up your expression.

“You know what? Bowling sounds boring, do you have other plans?”

“I was going home and play video games.”

“Sounds awesome. What kind of video games do you have?”

“The normal ones.” He shrugged “Do you wanna come over?”

“Yeah, sure.” You grinned.

“Ms. Stilinski, Mr. Raeken, is there anything you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

“No ma’am.” Theo shook his head, focusing his attention back on the board.

When school ended, you walked towards the parking lot with some books in your arms.

“(Y/N)” Your brother called “C’mon, I still have stuff to do before bowling I don’t wanna be late.”

“I’m not going with you.”

“What?” He stopped dead in his tracks and raised his eyebrows “Where are you going?”

“Hey, are you ready?” Theo approached the two of you “We can pick some snacks on the way.”

“You’re going with him?”

“See you later Stiles, have fun bowling.”

You and Theo walked away from a dumbfounded and annoyed Stiles towards Theo’s truck.

“He didn’t look too happy.” Theo mentioned once you were on the way to his house.

“He’ll get over it.” You shrugged with a laugh “Hey, can I turn on the radio?”

“Sure.”

You leaned towards the radio and so did he, your hands touching before they touched the radio.

“Sorry.” You quickly brought your hand back to your side.

Your cheeks were getting warm, why were you blushing? Your hands just touched, he didn’t propose. Get it together (Y/N). Without another word he turned on the radio, a soft tune coming out of the speakers.

“I love this song.”

“Me too.”

You looked at each other grinning before the both of you started singing at the top of your lungs, unable to keep a straight face. The melody wasn’t heard anymore, just the two of you screaming the lyrics like you were at a concert. Things with Theo felt easy. With Theo you had no problems, no duties, no worries. You just hoped he’d stick around.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

“It’s not fair, you’re a werewolf. You have fast reflexes” You crossed your arms over your chest with a pout after you lost for the tenth time in a row.

“Life is unfair, get over it.” He teased and you threw a pillow at him.

“Life is unfair, get over it.” You mocked.

“Hey I don’t sound like that.” He pretended to be offended.

“Hey I don’t sound like that.” You mocked again.

“Besides…” Theo smirked “You just suck at video games.” He shrugged.

“Excuse me?” You gasped faking offense “I’m the best at video games.”

“Babe don’t embarrass yourself. Just admit you suck.” He laughed throwing his head back.

You widened your eyes at the pet name, your heart jumping several beats. In a few weeks, Theo Raeken managed to flip your world upside down with his smiles and pet names and his nice outfits and caring gestures. But little did you know how much your world was going to change because of a certain blue-eyed boy.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

You were at the station when you heard the commotion outside your dad’s office. You opened the door just in time to see Lydia falling down bleeding.

Running towards her, you didn’t see Tracy coming your way. You only felt her claws scratching your stomach and you fell on your knees.

“(Y/N)” You heard your dad yell.

It was like everything was happening in slow motion. You landed on the floor and tried to bring your shaky hands to your stomach to stop the bleeding. The background noises seemed distant, the lights on the ceiling felt like they were moving around. The pain was almost unbearable but it soon turned into numbness, like it had always been there.

“(Y/N), stay with me.” You felt the pressure of someone’s hands on your stomach “Look at me. (Y/N) look at me.”

You slowly blinked a few times trying to focus on the person. Parrish’s green eyes were the first thing you noticed and a small smile made its way to your lips.

“Is…is my dad okay?” You weakly asked.

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Jordan smiled at you still focused on your stomach.

“Where’s Lydia?”

“She’s fine, she’s with Kira.”

You tilted your head to the side, looking away from Jordan as you fought to keep your eyes open.

“I’m sleepy.”

“No, no stay awake (Y/N) c’mon you can’t fall asleep.”

“But I want to…” You whined.

“(Y/N)” Another voice called out your name but you didn’t have the energy to call back.

Someone else kneeled down next to you and grabbed one of your hands.

“Theo?”

You felt the pressure being lifted off your stomach before you felt something soft on top of you. Theo had shrugged off his jacket and was using it to stop the bleeding.

“How’s her pulse?”

“Weak.” Theo answered and his voice seemed slightly shaky.

The room just kept spinning and spinning and you found it harder to keep your eyes open. You felt like you had just woken up when you’re still sleepy and you feel exhausted even though you’re well rested. And then you blacked out.

You started hearing beeping noises, they were rhythmical. And you felt sore, like the aftermath of a marathon where all your muscles hurt even the ones you didn’t know you had. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust them to the bright light in the white room. The white walls were too familiar unfortunately, you were at the hospital.

“Thank God you’re awake.” Stiles sighed in relief.

“What happened?” Your voice came out raspy.

“Tracy she uh…” He tugged at his hair nervously “She scratched you.”

“Did you save her? Is she okay?”

“Just rest…”

“She’s dead isn’t she?” His silence was the answer you needed.

You sighed and whimpered when you felt pain spread through your stomach.

“What is it? Do you want me to call Melissa?” Stiles got up, knocking down the plastic chair where he was sitting in the process.

“No, I’m fine.” You reassured him “Where is everybody?”

“Dad is at the station, trying to cover up what actually happened, Lydia is still in surgery and everyone else is in the waiting room.”

“I’m sorry…” You avoided his gaze.

“For what?”

“For not being strong like them or smart like you. I’m basically dead weight and all I do is make you guys worried.”

“What are you talking about? Do you have any idea what you did for us? Without you, we’d probably be all dead. We need each other.” Stiles grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

A knock on your door interrupted your conversation. The door opened revealing the pack, except for Lydia and Theo a little behind. Liam was carrying balloons, Scott had flowers and Theo had a stuffed bear that looked way too small in his large hands. One by one they hugged you and kissed you either on the forehead or on the cheek telling you how much you had scared them and an “I’m glad you didn’t die” from Malia.

“Guys, guys.” Stiles called after a few minutes “The doctor said she needs to rest.”

“No, I’m fine.” You shook your head.

Honestly, you didn’t want to be alone.

“But you need to rest.” Scott spoke up “C’mon, we’ll come back tonight before my mom’s shift ends okay?” He smiled fondly at you.

Everyone started to get ready to leave and from the corner of your eye, you saw Theo getting up from the chair where your brother previously sat. As quickly as your wounded body allowed you, you grabbed his wrist making him look down at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Stay.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded and sat down again. You looked over at the pack leaving in time to see Stiles almost being dragged out of the room by Scott while mumbling something like “she almost died and she wants to be alone with him”.

“Thank you.” You spoke once the door closed “I remember you were there at the station. You saved my life.”

“I’d do it again if I had to.” Theo smiled “Get some rest babe.” Even in your weakened state, you still managed to blush at the pet name like you did all those other times.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” You asked, feeling sleep starting to take over you.

“I will, I promise.” He placed his hand over yours on the bed and you smiled before closing your eyes.

Even though you were sleepy, it took you a few minutes to fall asleep. Right before you fell asleep, when you’re still aware of what’s happening around you, you were almost sure that you heard Theo whisper I’m sorry. But it was all in your head. After all, what would he be sorry for?

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

You sat in the waiting room of the hospital, your leg was bouncing up and down with anxiety. Earlier, you had gotten a phone call from Stiles, saying that your dad was on the way to the hospital. He didn’t say why he just said it was bad and that he’d meet you there. You tugged at your hair, unable to sit still, the lack of information driving you insane. Was your dad going to be okay?

Your phone rang, but it took you a few seconds to register the sound. Mason's name appeared on the screen making you worried. He went to the school to get Liam, why was he calling you? You picked up the phone, apprehensive until you heard the words that made your heart break.

“Scott is dead.” Mason announced over the phone “Theo killed him.”

For a few seconds, you didn’t say anything. You were frozen, wide-eyed and you didn’t know how to react.

“(Y/N)?” Mason called “Are you there?”

“Uh, yeah...yeah I am. A-Are you sure?”

“I saw it.” He paused “I’m so sorry.”

You hung up and stared at your phone for a few seconds. Dialing Stiles’ number as quickly as you could, you tried to let him know what was happening. When he didn’t answer you started freaking out.

Theo, your Theo had betrayed all of you. He killed Scott. He killed your best friend. How were you supposed to cope with the loss of your brother from another mother? How were you supposed to deal with the fact that your own boyfriend had killed him?

“This is all my fault.” You started pacing around, tugging at your own hair “Stiles was right.”

“Miss....” A nurse approached you carefully “Are you okay?”

You stopped in your tracks and turned around quickly, facing the worried woman. And what a sight you must have been. Hair all over the place, bags under your eyes and tears down your face.

“I…”

“Maybe you should sit down.”

“I just lost my best friend.” When you said the words out loud, it became real.

Scott was dead. Theo killed him. He used you, he used you to get to the pack, to get to Scott. You felt guilty because although you had nothing to do with Scott’s death, his blood was still in your hands. You felt guilty because you went against your brother, your pack. You felt guilty because you should’ve known, the signs were there but you chose to ignore them hoping they were just weird coincidences. You felt guilty because you knew you could’ve prevented what happened and yet you didn’t.

You felt angry because Theo used you. He toyed with your emotions and took advantage of your feelings to get closer to his goal. All the time the two of you spent together, it meant nothing. He was never on your side, he had always been the enemy. You’re not supposed to love the enemy, so why would he love you? You were nothing to him.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The nurse’s voice brought you back to reality.

“I...This is all my fault.” You shook your head as tears streamed down your face.

“I’m sure it isn’t.” She tried to reassure you.

But little did she know that things were more complicated than she thought. There was so much blood in your hands and you hadn’t killed anyone. If only you had listened to your brother nothing would’ve happened. Scott would still be alive and your father would’ve been okay. You turned your back on everyone for Theo and in the end, he destroyed you like you were nothing. You unlocked your phone to call your brother one more time but you stopped and stared at your lock screen. A picture of you and Theo sleeping on your couch. When you stared at it before it made you smile as you thought about the day when it was taken but after knowing who Theo actually was, it made you want to smash your phone into pieces.

Clenching your jaw, you made a promise to yourself. Theo was going to pay for what he did.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

“Are we really doing this?” You asked as you finished pouring mountain ash in front of the door.

“Why? Are you gonna believe what he says again?” Stiles didn't even bother to look up at you.

“What is that supposed to mean? He lied to me too!”

“I warned you about him!” He yelled “I fucking warned you and look at what happened. You let him in, this is all your fault.”

You took a step back like his words had pushed you backwards. Blinking a few tears away you mumbled a small I know. You sat on the stairs and put on Scott's jacket to cover his scent.

A few minutes later Theo walked in with a smirk plastered on his face. He looked down at the mountain ash before crossing it without a care in the world. You exchanged a look with Stiles, knowing that it was probably a bad idea to meet up with Theo.

“I guess we're all telling the truth now.” He looked up at the both of you, still smirking.

“You're the first chimera.” You mumbled feeling your heartbeat rise in your chest.

Another lie

Theo's eyes wandered upstairs where Scott hid so you shrugged off the jacket so that he could see where Scott's scent came from.

“You killed my best friend.” Stiles looked at Theo with anger.

“Let's be honest, Stiles. Was he still really your best friend?”

“Are you going to let my father die?” Stiles changed the subject.

“If I wanted him to die I wouldn't have told you where you could find him.” Theo shrugged.

“Then why are they saying that his body is shutting down?” You clenched your fists when Stiles mentioned your father's condition.

Theo kept smiling like he was one step ahead of all of you. In fact, he was. He had been all along.

“I'm not the bad guy.” Theo shrugged “I'm just a realistic. I'm a survivor.”

You stood up from the steps, fed up with him.

“You're a liar.” For a second you thought you saw hurt flash across his eyes but it was so quick, that you probably imagined it “You're a monster, a failure. You've done nothing but manipulate, kill and destroy everything around you.”

You took a step towards him.

“It's taking every fiber in my body not to kill you right now.”

“Babe, I…” He grabbed one of your hands in both his.

“Don't…” You warned “You don't have the right to call me that anymore.”

“Why? Don't you love me anymore?”

“You lied to me.” You changed the subject because the answer to his question was obvious.

Yes, you still loved him. And you hated yourself for it.

“I didn't lie about everything.” He shook his head, his grip tightening on your hand.

“I don't care.” You clenched your jaw, trying not to break down in tears.

His grip on your hand tightened and it was starting to hurt.

“Theo you’re hurting me.” You tried to pull your hand away from his grasp but it didn’t work.

“Hey, let her go!” Stiles got up and walked up to the two of you trying to pull you away from Theo.

Theo easily pushed him away, as a reflex, with a bit too much force making your brother stumble backwards and fall, his head hit one of the steps, knocking him out.

“Stiles!” You called out.

Theo’s grasp loosened and you escaped, kneeling down next to your brother.

“Stiles, wake up.” You looked up at Theo seeing his glossy eyes and his mouth open like he had something to say.

“I...I don’t know anything about your dad. I’m not lying.” The Theo you were seeing was completely different from the one that walked in “And I...I didn’t lie about my feelings, I love you.”

“You can’t love the enemy.”

You looked down at your brother, trying to spot some blood but luckily there was none. He was going to be okay.

“I’m not the enemy (Y/N), I never was. I’ve done some things wrong but...you have to believe me, we’re on the same side.”

“Get out.” You mumbled, but he heard you loud and clear.

“But…”

“I said get out!” You raised your voice, hoping he’d just leave once and for all “You’ve done enough.”

You stood in the same place and watched him walk backwards towards the door, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

You wanted to go after him, you almost did. But the perpetual fight between your head and your heart had come to an end. As much as you loved Theo even after all he did, you had to walk away and save the ones you love. The rational part of you had won, but then why was your chest aching and your head spinning? Why did it feel like you were doing the wrong thing? Why did you want to go after him and hug him?

That was the moment you realized that loving someone was being weak. Looking back and seeing how much of a mess your life was because you fell in love with Theo, you blamed yourself. With so many handsome boys with blond hair and blue eyes, why did your heart have to choose Theo Raeken? Suddenly, every story about heartache made sense, because suddenly you knew what you had lost and could never get back, your own heart.

Scott rushed downstairs after he made sure that Theo had left. Stiles was starting to wake up and you let out a breath, not knowing you were holding it in.

“This is all my fault Scott, I’m so sorry.”

Stiles groaned making you shift your attention towards your twin.

“Are you okay?” You asked, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, pushing Scott’s extended hand away and getting up alone.

“You blacked out.” Scott looked at him concerned.

“I’m okay.” Stiles snapped “Did you get anything from him?”

“He was telling the truth about everything.” Scott looked over at you “He doesn’t know what happened to your dad and…” He trailed off.

“And what?” You asked.

“He does love you (Y/N). He wasn’t lying about that.”

Your eyes wandered out the open door towards the empty street where you had seen Theo disappear a few minutes earlier.

“It’s too late now.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

So it didn’t come as a surprise when Theo got what he deserved. Everyone does, at some point. The hole on the floor swallowed him, his hands desperately trying to reach for something to hold on to. But there was nothing, he was alone. Theo kept yelling yours and Scott’s name and begging for help. Scott reached forward but you grabbed his wrist preventing him from doing anything.

“Let him go.” You tightened your grip on Scott’s wrist and clenched your jaw, your gaze never leaving the screaming teenage boy that cried out for help.

The screaming stopped once he was completely out of sight, the hole on the floor disappeared like it was never there, like the previous minutes had been nothing but an illusion. As silence filled your ears, you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. For a second, you wanted Theo back, not the Theo that was dragged to Hell but the Theo you met, the good one, the fake one apparently. You wanted to be able to hold his hand, kiss him, hug him one last time. You wanted to go back in time just to feel what it was like to love him without knowing he was evil.

But when angels try to set the world on fire, they’re the ones who end up burning in Hell.

feedback is appreciated :) i’d link my ask box but tumblr is a dick