#behind the actions he takes. but ALLISON? Allison has no fucking clue what's going on! from Allison's perspective... Zach is this guy she's

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR. KEVIN PHILLIPS

[asterekmess]

Did you ever watch Buffy? The first episode where Anya was introduced was titled "The Wish" and all I can think about is if Scott McCall had ever run into a pure Sidhe where they offered him a wish. Instead of, "I wish Buffy had never come to Sunnydale." It would be more, "I wish I was never bitten to become a werewolf." But just like all feaye tricks, the outcome is more, his Dad ended up with primary custody rather than his Mom and he was forced to leave BH. And then Stiles ended up more friends with Heather and others. And while Scott's life is worse, when he tracks down the others he finds all of theirs are greatly improved.

I think about it a lot and how Scott never really dealt with the consequences of any of his actions, everyone else did, and how an episode or mini-arc could have fixed a flaw in the show's design. I mean, we were already dealing with a lot of Celtic lore, why not someone from the Sidhe courts?

I have no idea why this took me so long to answer, so apologies for that. <3 I did watch buffy! I've seen all of it, and all of Angel as well. XD

I remember 'The Wish' episode, and whoooo boy it gave me chills. I loved how big the butterfly effect was, how something that seemed so small, something that Genuinely seemed to be the cause of a lot of problems in Sunnydale, ended up being so important to how things had progressed. Because, yeah, you would think Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a Good Thing, right? Sunnydale didn't have all of these insane issues before she arrived. It was quiet, and nothing big or scary ever happened. Her arrival matches perfectly with when everything started going absolutely nuts, so whatever selfish ideas Cordelia had, her thought that Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a good thing, makes sense. Except that, as she finds out, she's entirely wrong. Buffy's arrival was a lucky coincidence, or fate, whatever your taste leans toward. She showed up right as things started going nuts, and she kept it from going SO MUCH MORE NUTS.

Now, moving on to TW, it is a fascinating mix of being the Exact same situation, and the exact Opposite. I'll add a Read More, cus' holy god is this a lot of Rambling.

Because Scott wishing not to have been bitten...yeah, the bite Did improve things. But it improved things for him. He would absolutely regret making the wish, just like Cordelia did, because he would realize how many good things the bite had brought with it. BUT, conversely, he would have to realize how many good things the bite had brought for him, not for other people, and how their lives either wouldn't have been affect, or might've even Improved without him being bitten. Without the bite, Scott wouldn't have gotten on first line, period. His health issues made very clear in the five minutes he had them that any kind of stamina based sport was just out of the question for him. If he is unable to walk through the woods at a moderate pace without needing to grab his inhaler and stop against a tree, he just plain cannot play lacrosse for two or three hours of running at high speeds and working a bunch of muscles in his upper body. He likely wouldn't have gone out with Allison, because he would have no convenient way to get her attention. Furthermore, he wouldn't have the extra senses that both impressed her on the lacrosse field, and told him about her 'family dinner' the night of Lydia's party. (I've discussed this before, but... While it's true, Allison would have still brought him the dog; that dog would likely have attacked him, and his chances with her would have been shot in the foot when they both got in massive trouble and he likely had to go to the ER for stitches or something. Without Allison or first line, he wouldn't have started hanging out with the 'cool kids,' and quite frankly, wouldn't have had anyone to help him study for the classes he was struggling with. It's true that he also wouldn't have had werewolf things to worry about, or even a girlfriend to distract him from homework, so maybe that wouldn't have been such a huge issue, but still.

If we look at other people's lives and how They would have been affected by Scott not getting the bite...well, let's talk about that.

Stiles didn't get on first line because of Scott, or because of a werewolf bite. Or even because of the werewolf bullshittery occurring in town. He was put on first line because of his abilities, and even after being taken OFF first line for missing the game, he was put Right onto the field in the next game, chosen OVER other players who were perfectly viable options. Which means, he still would've ended up on first line. Allison wasn't interested in dating before she met Scott, and part of her draw to him was based on how 'different' he was. He knew things she didn't know how he could know, he had a weird ability to calm a furious, injured dog, and he had charisma that was ALSO gained from the bite, since being on first line made Scott Much more self-confident. If she didn't end up dating him, it's likely she wouldn't have dated at all. Which would mean no hiding from her parents, no strange conflicts of interest, AND, interestingly enough --depending on her involvement in the murders, etc that would still be occurring in town--no night in the school that would scare her bad enough to ask Kate for extra help and tip her headfirst into hunter training. AND, even if she DID still end up getting those lessons from Kate? There would be no bitterness to fuel her behavior at the end of season 1.

Allison was Traumatized after Kate showed her Derek on the grate. She was horrified, and didn't know what to do about it, and while we can ramble all we want about the morality of her not confronting her family (whom she's just discovered is willing to electrocute people) about it, the fact is that she pushed the thoughts aside to stop freaking out and went to that dance. Where she found out Scott was a werewolf, and was So fucking Betrayed that she was willing to help Kate catch him and Derek. No Scott, no betrayal, no willingness to help Kate recapture the miserable man who'd been chained up in a basement.

If we go back to that specific night, and try to unfold the events from there if Scott hadn't been bitten, things get a little complicated, but I'll take a few artistic liberties. Scott isn't bitten. Presumably, he just happens to get out of the woods in time, or he gets caught with Stiles by the sheriff, or doesn't go to the woods in the first place. These all change the possible outcomes of that night. If he hadn't gone in the first place, and Stiles went alone, would he have been bitten instead? Would Scott have been dragged into all of this anyway, but without the protection and boost of being a werewolf and cured of his asthma? If he weren't the one bitten, and he saw everything Stiles gained from it, would he still have such a hatred for the bite? Or would he want it, like Erica did, to cure him and make him powerful and cool? But, let's assume Stiles doesn't get bitten either. The second half of Laura's body still hasn't been found, and Stiles has no reason to fear running back into the preserve the next day, and no real punishment from his father as far as we can tell. So, does he go back to look again? If he did, he would run into Derek, because Derek would still be there after retrieving Laura's body himself. He would see Derek and still recognize him, and from there, things might spiral, still involving Stiles in the supernatural, and it's likely Stiles would try to involve Scott, and Again we get hit with "Would Scott want the bite, if he hadn't gotten forcibly bitten in the first place?" The answer is probably yes. He wanted to be cool, and popular, and on the lacrosse team. He wanted everything being a werewolf gave him. BUT if we're looking at this wish as similar to "The Wish," then no matter what, Scott won't be bitten. He'll be transported to a new world where it just never happened, and he'll be human, and forced to watch everyone around him be just plain different. Scott not being bitten would isolate him from Stiles, if Stiles got involved in the spn anyway. We SAW how Stiles cut off his other friends once the spn starting getting in the way. He and Harley? We have no clue how close they were. They were close enough for her to tease him about his crush on Lydia, for her to wander up comfortably to the locker and talk to them. And he cut her off as soon as the werewolf stuff hit. What if he cut Scott off? To protect him, if nothing else, like he did his own father. Once he realized the danger involved, I doubt he would be willing to put Scott in harm's way.

So, Scott would not only lose first line, lose his girlfriend, lose his popularity, lose his health and strength and heightened abilities, lose his 'importance' to the goings-on of Beacon Hills, but he would also lose Stiles, who seems to have been his only friend, unless he also had a relationship with Harley.

Okay, I've rambled enough about the what if's, so let's talk about the Reason why this wish would go so badly for Scott, in such a different way than it went for Cordelia. Cordelia, first off, wished that someone Else would not have/do something, rather than wishing for herself not to have done something. She watches how fucked up the world gets, and how much worse her life is without Buffy around to save the day. Scott wished for Himself not to have done something (even something passive, like 'get bitten') and would have to watch how fucked up his world gets, and how far behind he would fall. The other's lives might not necessarily get better, because Peter is still on the loose, and the hunters are still there, etc etc, but they would still Progress, while Scott would stay stagnant.

And WHY is that? Because Scott isn't important to the story. It DOESN'T start with him. That's the Whole Point of his character. He is supposed to be the 'everyman' who gets dragged into crazy shit and becomes integral to things that he wasn't ever meant to be a part of. The guy who wanders into becoming King or 'The Hero' that will save the world, even though he's just a small lad from a tiny town, whose highest prospects were "get on first line."

He was NEVER supposed to be Buffy, or if he was, it was done Very Badly.

But Beacon Hills WASN'T a quiet town before Scott was bitten; however much he might've said 'nothing ever happens in this town.' It was FULL of bullshittery and magic from the very beginning. There was the fire, and Paige, and the blinding of Deucalion, and the death of Alexander Argent, and the Nogitsune in the internment camp nearby. All of these things were around So much longer than Scott's bite, and they'd been affecting the world that whole time too. Because yes, in Buffy, the master was There before she was, but he was literally rendered inert by the situations he was in. And the things he'd done happened Centuries before, not six years. There is a difference. Sunnydale was Not Known for the insane number of weird deaths. Beacon Hills was. And aside from the Nogitsune, every single fucking thing that happened in Beacon Hills, was attuned to the Hale family in one way or another. Deucalion's blinding occurred during a meeting on Hale land, because Talia was known as a wise leader, etc, in the area and other wolves flocked to her. Deucalion biting Argent seems unrelated (if you even believe Deucalion did that, despite being a fucking pacifist before Gerard blinded him), but again, it occurs just a couple hours away from Beacon Hills, which is Hale Territory. The one who plays the Buffy role here? Who shows up at just the right time, and launches themself against an endless wave of evil, with slightly enhanced senses and a thorough need to do good and not back away from things that 'aren't they're problem'? The actual hero who is somehow tied to everything going on in ways even they don't understand? Was Derek. The guy who entirely unwittingly allowed Julia Baccari to survive, because he was trying to be merciful to his first love. Who entirely unwittingly was manipulated into giving up information that let a hunter kill his family. Who followed his sister back to town after six years of just trying to survive in New York, fell into a fucking tragedy, and decided to stop the bad guys anyway, even though he knew he didn't stand a fucking chance.

And as annoyed as some might get. The 'everyman' who stumbles onto the set and accidentally becomes integral to the saving of the world? The one whose ambitions are small and who expectations are smaller? Who is misunderstood, and has abilities that aren't recognized or appreciated, that doesn't really fit in, but tries their best anyway? The literal Angel to Derek's Buffy?

Is fucking Stiles. The son of the sheriff who just could not let it go when he discovered there was something funky going on. Who hung around on the edges, even though he wasn't really wanted, because he needed to help. Who ended up saving Derek's life over and over, and becoming so important as to be Derek's anchor? Who literally WENT DARKSIDE and HAD TO BE NEARLY KILLED, even though Derek didn't to kill him???

I know how it sounds, but JD SAID he took inspiration from Buffy. The issue is that his parallels are between DEREK AND STILES, and BUFFY AND ANGEL. Respectively.

Derek might act like the broody bad boy, but it is STILES' mentality that matches Angel's behavior, and it's Derek who matches Buffy.

I'm so fucking off track. Scott would be miserable if he ever managed to get a wish and used it to keep from having been bitten. And it would be sad. I would feel bad for him, had I watched something like that happen. Seeing him realize that most of the good things he had, he only got because of the bite. That Stiles would still be on first line, that Lydia and Jackson would still be the popular kids. That Allison wouldn't know he existed, or if she did would avoid him entirely. That Jackson would never have been turned into the kanima in the first place. That everyone else would move on and up in life, and he would still be standing at the bottom step. Because it wasn't his actual limitations that were holding him back, it was his refusal to accept them, to work with them, and to just plain stop Envying Everyone Around him, and start living his own fucking life instead of trying to steal other people's.

Scott wishes he were Cordelia, and I promise that would backfire too.

[thisisawonderfulusername]

let's save the world

season two, episode six

five hargreeves x reader

summary: you attend a light supper with the hargreeves family- you’re confident to say it was a shit supper

warnings: cursing, the asshole reginald

word count: 4.5k

a/n: okay, i’m so sorry that this part took so long to come out (it’s also kinda short but that’s more because the episode focuses a lot more on the other siblings), at first i stopped writing for a week or two and then i kinda focused on requests because i didn’t want those people waiting too long, but hopefully i’ll be able to crank these out over the next week and finish the second season. which comes the question: when season three comes out, do you want me to continue this? it might be a while, and it will also depend if i feel like continuing, but i want to know what you want as well. thanks :) please enjoy

i’m also sorry if there are any inconsistencies. i realized i’ve had r go back to the cafe on multiple occasions when she said she wouldn’t be back- i went ahead and changed that. i might have to read through my own story to fix my mistakes 😪

after your drunken four person party at the hair salon, everyone went on their own ways to confront the issues they had so that they could have some semblance of peace before the six days you had were up.

you couldn’t exactly face your problem. it came in the form of a certain fifty-eight year old man that had fucked up both of your bodies, and you didn’t know where he was. sure, you could admit the problem and see that as facing it, but you wanted to at least tell five. you had no clue as to why.

for that moment, you allowed yourself to let it go. you were stumbling through the streets with the near empty bottle of champagne almost slipping from your grip. it was definitely a sight to see, one that would definitely be concerning to the passerby- only a few spared you a glance, though.

when you ended up at the cafe that you had missed, even after only being away for a day or two, you looked through the window from a few feet away. taking one last glance to the bottle, you quickly downed the remaining drink before tossing it into a nearby trash can and pushing through the door that rang a bell atop it.

stacy happened to be on shift, and when she looked over to see you, she had a smile at first- until she noticed your state. “y/n? what happened?”

waving your hand in dismissal, you push past the swinging gate. her face scrunches up as you move past her, “is that- are you drunk?”

with a shrug, you lean against the door to the back, only a push away from falling straight onto your back. “i’d like to think i hold my alcohol well,” you lick your lips, a small smile tugging your lips up, “it’s nice to see you again.”

before she had a chance to respond- to question why you were drinking, since she thought you to be a teenager, you had pushed through into the kitchen. you could walk to the stairs to the apartment with your eyes closed, and you nearly did. it was made a bit more difficult, since you were unable to balance fully on your feet, but you managed.

it only took you a few minutes to wrestle with the lock before you stumbled through the door and to the bed, falling onto the soft mattress, almost instantaneously passing out.

-

when you woke up, you had a killer headache, and you had to lay with your face in the pillow beneath your head- one that had a pool of drool sinking into the fabric, but you couldn’t care for that right now- for a few minutes to remember what you did yesterday that gave you the horrible ache. it came back to you slowly, and you sighed heavily as you sat up, running your fingers through your messed hair.

standing from the bed, you made your way into the bathroom, looking in the mirror hanging above the sink to fix you hair that seemed to have gone through hell, with how it had been messed up so severely.

you shook your head once you were done, fixing your shirt slightly and grabbing a pain killer before shutting the light off and moving to leave the apartment. your eyebrows furrowed when your gaze fell upon an envelope that looked like it had been slipped through the crack at the bottom of your door.

glancing around the small room cautiously, you slowly stepped towards it, snatching it up off of the wooden floor once you made it. it was plain, save for the circular golden sticker holding the flap closed.

you pursed your lips, hesitantly pulling the sticker off and pulling the card inside out. your eyes skimmed over the words written.

from the office of sir reginald hargreeves

to my pursuers:

i, reginald hargreeves, request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the twentieth of november, nineteen sixty-three, at half past seven o’clock.

-1624 magnolia street-

dallas, texas

“shit,” you mutter to yourself quietly, the envelope drifting to the floor as you release your grip on it to scratch your scalp. glancing towards the calendar, which had previously been used to count the days you were stuck here alone, your eyebrows furrow. “that’s today.”

-

you make your way to the address listed on the paper, looking at the tall building once you finally make it.

southland life.

reading the card once more to be sure this was the place, you sighed softly and walked across the parking lot to get to the entrance, not sparing another look up as you walk through the door.

looking around as you make your way up polished steps, you stuff the now folded card into your back pocket. as you get to the elevators, you see that one is already opened, so you quickly walk over to get in before it leaves you behind.

when you look into the opened doors, you stop for a moment when you see five. “oh,” you stare at him for a moment. “you’re back.”

“yeah.” he motions to his side for you to actually step in, and you realize that you hadn’t actually done that yet, practically jumping inside.

you stick your hands in your pockets. “you usually don’t just up and go like that on me.” you point out his previous actions, indirectly questioning where he had gone that was so important to leave you behind.

“sorry,” he glances to the ground, and you could tell he actually was. “i-”

he was cut off by the sight of a hand stopping the doors just as they nearly closed, “wait up.”

it’s diego who steps into the small space next, and you all look at each other in surprise and confusion, before the rest of the hargreeves family files in, all glancing at each other. it ends with luther, who you have to move to the side for.

the doors finally close on all of you, and there is a silence that you know is from the anticipation of what exactly is going to happen. the numbers over the doors begin to light up, one by one, each letting a ding echo through the space.

after a few seconds, a stench fills the air that has your nose beginning to scrunch up as you try not to breathe in- everyone else notices the smell, and soon it’s realized that luther was the one who had caused it. “sorry.” he stared straight at the numbers, not looking at any of you, “i’m nervous.”

the doors take way too long to open, but when they do everyone is rushing out, covering their noses to avoid smelling it any longer.

when you enter the floor, a sign hanging from a pole supporting the roof tells you that it is a tiki bar- if it wasn’t obvious enough from the beachy decorations surrounding you.

“alright,” five is the first to get to the table, standing by a seat surrounding the circle. “when dad gets here, i’ll do the talking, okay?”

it’s more of a statement than a question- you know that and you aren’t about to argue. the only thing you know about the man is what five told you when he was actually thirteen. that he was a man who cared for nothing but himself and creating a team that he could control. you believed it. it was hard not to.

“i’ve got a few questions for him myself.” diego tells him, and you know if he actually managed to ask any of them, this whole meeting would be over in an instant. he wasn’t exactly the calm and understanding type.

you shake your head as you turn to look at them, standing at the chair next to five, “we don’t want to scare him off.” you tell them, glancing over everyone, “he might be able to help us stop this new apocalypse and get home.”

the man isn’t so ready to cooperate. “no, y/n, we need to figure out why he’s planning to kill the president.”

“okay, this is a matter of life and death, you imbecile!” five argues back, and you can tell this supper is going to be a real shit show.

“okay, maybe we should take turns talking?” vanya suggests, everyone looking to her as she grabs one of the decorations, “alright, whoever has this conch shell gets to talk.”

you run a hand down your face. this family and their terrible communication. “vanya, we don’t have time for a debate, okay?” five tells her, already seeming to begin to lose his patience.

“maybe i should lead.” allison walks forward and takes the shell from the other girl, “we all know i’m a much better public speaker than the rest of you.”

diego looks at her from where he paces, “okay, daddy’s girl.” the jab is small, but you know it’s going to set off a lot. you look to five, your expression showing all of what you think. he just shrugs.

“oh, jealous number two?” the girl questions, raising an eyebrow at him.

the man moves around the table, “hey, no more numbers.” he glances around, “no more bullshit. we’re team zero.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion. what is this crap? team zero?

“uh, diego.” luther speaks from his seat, “you don’t have the conch.” he motions to the object in allison’s hand.

you have to look down at the table to hold in your laugh at that.

the man gives a tight lipped smile, holding his finger up for a second before taking the conch from allison and... throwing it, letting it shatter against the wall.

you’re about to finally let your laugh out, until the door comes swinging open, reginald swiftly making his way to the table as everyone stares. he sits and everyone is silent as they take their seats as well, and you fidget with your fingers.

“you have not only burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose,” his tone is serious as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves, “conned your way into the mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked me,” you didn’t realize how much you had really done until you had gotten the list from the old man, and you see that he has brought a notebook with him when he brings out a pencil. “but you have, on numerous occasions, called me...”

klaus is pulling a chair out next to him, a drink in hand. of course he had gone to the bar already. “hey, pop.” he smiles as he sits and leans back in the chair, “how’s it hangin’?”

reginald barely looks at him when he intrudes his little speech, his eyes moving to look around at all of you. “...dad.” you glance to your side to see how five’s doing, and as you had expected, he was annoyed. you could tell by the way his jaw had begun to lock in it’s place. “my reconnaissance tells me that you are not cia, not kgb, certainly not mi-five, so.” he places the pencil on the table, “who are you?”

everyone is silent, not sure exactly what to say, but five speaks up after a moment. “we’re your children.”

“except for me.” you cut in, holding up a finger just so he knew. you did not want to be associated with this man.

his gaze falls on you two as five takes a quick glance in your direction, “we’re from the future.” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him, “in nineteen eighty-nine, you adopted us and trained us to fight against the end of the world.” the old man looks around, seemingly not believing what he was saying. “called us the umbrella academy.”

his gaze continues to move around, “why on earth would i adopt six-”

“seven.” he is cut off by allison, “one of us isn’t here.”

diego is staring at the table, “dead.” he informs, looking up, “one of us is dead.”

“yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba, enough of that now,” klaus speaks from his chair and you all look to him, slightly confused as he had turned to talk to what seemed like an empty space behind him. he turns back to the table, waving his hand in a silent sign to continue.

reginald laces his fingers together on the table, “regardless,” he looks away from who looked like a crazy person, “what would possess me to adopt seven ill-mannered malcontents?”

“we all have special abilities,” you lean forward on the table with a pursed smile on your face, “but, once again, you didn’t get me.” you wag your finger in the air, feeling the need to reassure that point.

“special?” reginald seems to ignore your second point, an eyebrow raised in interest, “in what sense?”

“in the superpower sense.” luther speaks from beside him, giving a small smile as he nods.

the old man looks to him, “call me old fashioned, but i’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence.” he returns his gaze to everyone, “show me.”

allison picks up her drink, stirring it with her straw, “everyone wants to see powers all of a sudden,” she jokes, taking a sip.

“we’re not circus animals, okay?” luther informs him, “we’re not going to balance balls on our noses and... clap our hands like seals for your amusement.” he claps his hands together a few times. just as he finished speaking, though, a knife flies through the air, curving around reginald to stick in one of the wooden pillars.

it’s quiet as everyone looks at the knife, before reginald opens his notebook and begins scribbling something. everyone leans forward, “what are you writing?” diego questions quickly.

he looks up from the paper, “you are zero for two, young man.”

allison giggles into her drink, and diego begins to push away from the table to go after their dad. you try to stand and stop him, but five gets there before you in a flash of blue. “stop!” he whispers to him, his hands on his shoulders for a moment to keep him from moving any further.

you sit back down in your seat, and look to reginald, who seems impressed. “now, that is interesting.”

with a sigh, five moves away. “alright, quick run down.” he begins to move around the table, pointing to each person as he gives away their powers, “luther: super strength, klaus can commune with the dead, y/n can create and control fire, and allison can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“but she never uses it.” diego takes his seat again, and allison rolls her eyes.

looking up from her drink, she looks to him. “i heard a rumor, you punched yourself in the face.” his eyes turn white and his hand balls into his fist before colliding with his face, and you cringe as he groans in pain, holding his head in his hands.

as he curses in pain, reginald seems to ignore it as he looks to the woman sitting next to him. vanya. “and you?” he questions her.

“uh, maybe we don’t take vanya for a test run.” luther suggests, and everyone seems to agree.

she looks nonchalant about it. “it’s fine.” she says with a shrug, “i can handle it.”

she reaches for a fork, and everyone begins to try to stop her, “handle it?” allison questions with a raised brow, “last time you handled it, you definitely blew up the moon.”

when she doesn’t seem to be stopping to everyone’s protests, clinking the metal to her glass, all of you begin to push away from the table, but it’s too late when the fruit at the center of the table explodes, covering the table and everyone around it.

you look to your shirt in disgust. she couldn’t have done something a bit less messy?

she smiles in her seat, shrugging her shoulders as she looks to the table. “oops.”

allison presses her lips together as she gets another drink and switches her straw over. diego stands from his seat, leaning onto the table. “look, we know you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.” he speaks, and you roll your eyes at his continued insistence to save the president, as if that wouldn’t change the timeline one bit.

reginald looks to him. “you were recently hospitalized, correct?” you can’t help but to clench your jaw at the mention, “you still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.” his tone is matter of fact.

you look to five, who also seems to be knowing the direction this dinner was taking. south. plummeting into a near-erupting volcano that bubbled at the surface.

“am i?” diego pulls the picture of their dad in the grassy knoll out of his back pocket, reaching over the table to put it in front of him. “that’s you.” he informs, pointing to his figure in the picture, “that’s two days from now on the grassy knoll, at the exact spot the president is going to get shot.”

picking the paper up, he looks to him after inspecting it for a moment. “well...” he looks around before passing the picture back over the table, “i suppose you’ve solved it. you have single handedly unearthed my nefarious plot.”

diego looks at him, and you bite your lip. suddenly, you feel bad for him- mostly because reginald was a bastard that you could easily burn for everything he had done. “is that what you wanted to hear?” he questions, “you fancy yourself a do-gooder? the last man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy?” everyone is silent as he continues, “this is a fantastic delusion. despite the reality that you are a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. more succinctly, a man in over his head.”

he had sunk back down to his seat throughout his father’s speech, and you could see the tears gathering in his eyes. you look to five and he returns your gaze, and you can feel the frown that sets into your face. he sighs softly, looking down to the table as diego stutters his denial.

everyone is silent for another few moments, and you shake your head. “look, forget about the president.” you wave your hand as if to swat the idea out of the air, “we have a catastrophic war coming in five days. we need to figure out how to stop it.”

reginald looks at you. “war? men will always be at war with one another.”

“no, this isn’t just some war.” five tells him from beside you, his fingers laced together on the table that he leans on, “we’re talking about a doomsday. the end of the world.”

the old man looks at him for a moment. “well,” he says after a moment, raising his hands to motion to the group, “you’re the special ones, aren’t you?” he smiles, but you can see the sarcasm behind it, “why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

you all stare at him, until from the chair next to him, klaus’ hands fly up into the air and he begins to shake, choked gasps escaping him. “is he having a seizure?” allison asks in concern, everyone looking at him in confusion.

“overdosing, probably.” diego comments.

luther’s eyebrows furrow, “should we do something?”

“klaus!” five whisper-yells at the man as he leans over the table, “now is not the time! what are you doing?”

he slowly turns towards where you’re sitting, and you grimace as you see the vessels that are beginning to pop out from beneath his skin, his face turning red from his choked breathing. “i’m...” the word is barely there.

“out with it, boy!” reginald exclaims.

“ben!” after the word is spoken, he goes limp and falls to the ground, shuddering from where he lays on the wood.

reginald closes his book, placing it on top of some folders that he had also brought, “well...” standing from his seat, he tucks the things in the nook of his arm, “thank you all for coming. i’ve seen about enough.”

as he steps over the barely conscious klaus, luther watches, “no- i-” after a second, his hands slam down onto the table, making you flinch slightly from the sudden bang. he stands, ripping his button-up open, “look at what you did to me!” he seems distressed as he shouts, “look at it!”

five lets out a slight huff, falling back into his seat. “oh, shit. why?”

you bury your face in your hands, unable to comprehend how broken this family is. what is wrong with all of them? you don’t think you’ll ever know.

you look back up as reginald glances around before pointing to five. “you in the culottes.” the young-looking boy lifts his head to look at him, “a word, in private?” he doesn’t give him a chance to answer as he turns to leave, walking away from the family.

watching as five gets up, you fight for words but can’t manage to say anything as he leaves you behind. he seems to enjoy doing that these past two days.

“check, please.” allison holds her finger up for the waiter to end this shit show already. you don’t even wait for the paper to come, standing from your seat to get in the elevator ahead of them all.

the numbers ticked down as you stare up at them, letting out a soft sigh in the otherwise silent space. when the doors slide open, you’re left staring out into the hallway for a moment before you finally stepped out and left the building to be hit with the chilly night air.

deciding to stay a bit to possibly catch five on his way out you move to the side of the entrance on the sidewalk, sitting down on the cold concrete. you can see the cars waiting in the parking lot. you think one of them must be reginald’s.

a few minutes later the other siblings exit the building, and you watch silently as they begin to make their way away from the building- but diego and luther come to talk to you first.

“you’re not heading back to elliott’s place?” the knife thrower questions, raising an eyebrow at you as you look at him.

shaking your head, you pull your knees to your chest to get a bit more warmth. “i’m going to try to wait for five. i’d rather he not leave me behind for something important again.”

it’s quiet for a moment as the two nod, before luther claps his hands together. “alright, then. we’ll see you when you get back.”

you play with your fingers as they walk away and one of the car leaves- vanya had gotten in, so you assume it was her ‘farm frau’ as klaus had called her. the rest of the siblings quickly disappeared to... wherever they were going, and you were left alone (aside from the car that awaited reginald’s exit).

after waiting for you don’t know how long- maybe about twenty minutes or so- you see the flash of blue that signals five’s arrival and you quickly jump up from the concrete.

“oh, finally.” you sigh, brushing off your pants as he does the same with his uniform jacket, “it was starting to get too cold. what did the old man say? does he know how to stop this thing?”

the frown on his face tells you otherwise, and he sighs softly. “he didn’t help with anything. just told me what i already know.”

you run your fingers through your hair, staying quiet for a moment. “so, what do we do now?” the question almost makes you sound weak, and you hate it. you were just tired of having to save the world from something that you don’t even know.

“now, we make a deal.” he tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, watching as he glances to the ground. “the handler told me she would give us a briefcase in return for a favor.”

you feel your shoulders slump slightly at the mention of the woman. “i can’t believe this.” you shake your head with a sigh, but you’re already grabbing his hand so he can flash you to wherever she may be.

when he doesn’t do it, you look at him with a raised eyebrow. he looks surprised, for some reason. “you’re not going to ask what it is?” he asks, wondering why you just blindly agreed.

“i trust you.” you shrug, and you yourself also find it incredibly stupid. the deal could be a death trap that you didn’t know about, yet you’re ready just because he thinks it will help save everyone’s ass.

after a moment of quiet, he nods. “okay.” he blows out some air, and you feel his hand tighten around yours slightly. “you should know, though. she wants us to kill the board.”

that is what really gets you. “the board? how are we even supposed to do that?”

“she knows when and where they’re meeting.” he tells you, and you purse your lips.

“alright.” you take a deep breath, “let’s make this deal before i change my mind.”

he nods, and without another second, you’ve appeared in front of the door of a room that looks to be in a very fancy hotel. you keep hold of his hand, not able to deny the nervousness that washes over you at this task. but you could do it. you were one of the best assassins, so what’s killing a few more people?

after five knocks on the doors a few times, they open to show a smiling handler. “ah!” she exclaims, and you can tell she had been waiting on the two of you. “just in time for a nightcap.”

she walks away from the door and you finally release his hand when you step in and close the doors behind you. “to be clear.” five speaks as the handler holds a cocktail out to him, “we take out the board... you get us all home. no doomsday, no apocalypse.”

as he speaks she had moved to the bed, laying on top of the covers on her side as she takes a drag from her cigarette. holding a paper up in the air. “that’s the deal.”

“we’re in.” you tell her before you can think any further, just knowing that this was a way to get home, the only way you knew of at the moment. if you didn’t take this, who knows if you would be able to stop this. the first time around you didn’t even stop the apocalypse, only escaped it.

when she waved the paper, you stepped forward and took it, unfolding the invitation. five looks over your shoulder. there’s a seal of a bird at the top, and you quickly skim over the words.

the lonely lodger inn

oshkosh wisconsin, 1982

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101​

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @ purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun @malfovs @hxney-lemcn @frnks-stuff

[greatfay]

controversial opinions?

Cold pizza actually not good. Tastes like angry bacteria.

There’s a completely separate class of gay men who are in a different, rainbow-tinted plane of reality from the rest of us and I don’t like them. They push for “acceptance” via commercialization of the Pride movement, assimilation through over-exposure, and focus on sexualizing the movement to be “provocative” and writing annoying articles that reek of class privilege instead of something actually important like lgbtqa youth homelessness, job discrimination, and mental health awareness.

Coleslaw is good. You guys just suck in the kitchen.

Generational divides ARE real: a 16-year-old and a 60-year-old right now in 2021 could agree on every hot button sociopolitical topic and yet not even realize it because they communicate in entirely different ways.

Sam Wilson is a power bottom. No I will not elaborate.

Allison’s makeover in The Breakfast Club good, not bad. She kept literally and metaphorically dumping her trash out onto the table and it’s clearly a cry for help. Having the attention and affection of a smart, pretty girl doing her makeup for her was sweet and helped her open up to new experiences. Not every loner wants to BE a loner (see: Bender, who is fine being a lone wolf).

Movie/show recommendations that start with a detailed “representation” list read like status-effecting gear in an RPG and it’s actually a turn-off for me. I have to force myself to give something a try in spite of it.

Yelling at people to just “learn a new language” because clearly everyone who isn’t you and your immediate vicinity of friends must be a lazy ignorant white American is so fucking stupid, like I get it, you’re mad someone doesn’t immediately know how to pronounce your name or what something means. But I know 2 languages and am struggling with a 3rd when I can between 2 jobs and quite frankly, I don’t have the time to just absorb the entire kanji system into my brain to learn Japanese by tomorrow night, or suddenly learn Arabic or Welsh. There are 6500 recorded languages in the world, what’s the chance that one of 3 I’ve learn(ed?) is the one you’re yelling at me about. Yes this is referring to that post yelling at people for not knowing how to pronounce obscure Irish names and words. Sometimes just explaining something instead of admonishing people for not knowing something inherently in the belief that everyone must be lazy entitled privileged people is uh... better?

Stop fucking yelling at people. I despise feeling like someone is yelling at me or scolding me, it triggers my Violence Mode, you don’t run me, you are not God, fuck off. Worst fucking way to "educate” people, it just feels good in the moment to say or write and doesn’t help. Yes I’ve done it before.

Violence is good actually.

Characters doing bad things ≠ an endorsement of bad things. Characters doing bad things that are unquestioned by the entire rest of the cast = endorsement of bad things, or at the least, a power fantasy by the creator. See: Glee, in which Sue’s awfulness is constantly called out, while Mr. Shue’s awfulness rarely is because he’s “the hero.” See also: the Lightbringer series, in which the protagonist is a violent manipulator who is praised as clever, charming, diplomatic, and genius by every supporting character (enemies included), despite the text never demonstrating such.

Euphoria is good, actually. It falls into this niche of the past decade of “dark gritty teen shows” but actually has substance behind it, but the general vibe I get from passive-aggressive tumblr posts from casual viewers is that this show is The Devil, and the criticism of its racier content screams pearl-clutching “what about the children??” to me.

Describing all diagnosed psychopaths as violent criminals is a damaging slippery slope, sure. But I won’t be mad at anyone for inherently distrusting another human who does not have the ability to feel guilt and remorse, empathy, is a pathological liar, or proves to be cunning and manipulative.

It’s actually not easy to unconditionally support and love everyone everywhere when you’ve actually experienced the World. Your perspective and values will be challenged as you encounter difficult people, experience hardship, are torn between conflicting ideas and commitments, and fail. My vow to never ever call the cops on another black person was challenged when an employee’s boyfriend marched into the kitchen OF AN ESTABLISHMENT to scream at her, in a BUSINESS I MANAGED, and threaten to BEAT the SHIT out of her. Turns out I can hate cops and hate that motherfucker equally, I am more than capable of both.

Defending makeup culture bad, actually. Enjoy it, experiment, master it, but don’t paint it as something other than upholding exactly what they want from you. Even using makeup to “defy the heteropatriarchal oppressors!” is still putting cash in their pockets, no matter how camp...

Not every villain needs to be redeemed, some of you just never outgrew projecting yourself onto monsters and killers.

Writing teams and networks queerbaiting is not the same as individuals queerbaiting. Nick Jonas performing exclusively at gay clubs to generate an audience really isn’t criminal; if they paid to go see him, that’s on them, he didn’t promise anyone anything other than music and a show. Do not paint this as similar to wealthy, bigoted executives and writing teams trying to snatch up the LGBTQA demographic with vague ass marketing and manipulative screenplays, only to cop out so as not to alienate their conservative audiences. And ESPECIALLY when the artists/actors/creators accused of queerbaiting or lezploitation then come out as queer in some form later on.

Queer is not a bad word, and I’ve no clue how that remains one of few words hurled at LGBTQA people that can’t be reclaimed. It’s so archaic and underused at this point that I don’t get the reaction to it compared to others.

People who defend grown-woman Lorelai Gilmore’s childish actions and in the same breath heavily criticize teenage religious abuse victim Lane Kim’s actions are not to be trusted. Also Lane deserved better.

Keep your realism out of my media, or at least make it tonally consistent. Tired of shows and movies and books where some gritty, dark shit comes out of nowhere when the narrative was relatively Romantic beforehand.

Actually people should be writing characters different from themselves, this new wave in the past year of “If you aren’t [X] you shouldn’t be writing [X]” is a complete leap backward from the 2010s media diversity movement. And if [X] has to do with an invisible minority status (not immediately visible disabilities, or diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, persecuted religious affiliations, mental illness) it’s actually quite fucked up to assume the creator can’t be whatever [X] is or to demand receipts or details of someone’s personal life to then grant them “permission” to create something. I know, we’re upset an actual gay actor wasn’t casted to play this gay character, so let’s give them shit about it: and not lose a wink of sleep when 2 years later, this very actor comes out and gives a detailed account of the pressure to stay closeted if they wanted success in Hollywood.

Projecting an actor’s personal romantic life and gender identity onto the characters they play is actually many levels of fucked up, and not cute or funny. See: reinterpreting every character Elliot Page has played through a sapphic lens, and insulting his ability to play straight characters while straight actors play actual caricatures of us (See also: Jared Leto. Fuck him).

I’m fucking sick of DaBaby, he sucks. “I shot somebody, she suck my peepee” that’s 90% of whatever he raps about.

“Political Correctness” is not new. It was, at one point, unacceptable to walk into a fine establishment and inform the proprietor that you love a nice firm pair of tits in your face. 60 years ago, such a statement would get you throw out and possibly arrested under suspicion of public intoxication. But then something happened and I blame Woodstock and Nixon. And now I have to explain to a man 40 years my senior that no, you can’t casually mention to the staff here, many of whom are children, how you haven’t had a good fuck in a while. And then rant about the “Chinese who gave us the virus.” Can’t be that upset with them if you then refused to wear your mask for 20 minutes.

Triggering content should not have a blanket ban; trigger warnings are enough, and those who campaign otherwise need to understand the difference between helping people and taking away their agency. 13 Reasons Why inspired this one. Absolutely shitty show, sure, but it’s a choice to watch it knowing exactly what it contains.

Sasuke’s not a fucking INTJ, he’s an ISFP whose every decision is based off in-the-moment feelings and proves incapable of detailed and logical planning to accomplish his larger goals.

MCU critique manages to be both spot-on and pointless. Amazing stories have been told with these characters over the course of decades; but most of it is toilet paper. Expecting a Marvel movie to be a deeply detailed examination of American nationalism and imperialism painted with a colorful gauze of avant-garde film technique is like expecting filet mignon from McDonalds. Scarf down your quarter pounder or gtfo.

Disparagingly comparing the popularity and (marginal) success of BLM to another movement is anti-black. It is not only possible but also easy to ask for people’s support without throwing in “you all supported BLM for black people but won’t show support for [insert group]” how about you keep our name out your mouth? Black people owe the rest of the world nothing tbh until yall root out the anti-blackness in your own communities.

It is the personal demon/tragic flaw of every cis gay/bi/pan man to externalize and exorcize Shame: I’m talking about the innate compulsion to Shame, especially in the name of Pride and Progress. Shame for socioeconomic “success,” shame for status of outness, shame for fitness and health, shame for looks, shame for style and dress, shame for how one fits into the gender binary, shame for sexual positions and intimacy preferences, shame for fucking music tastes. Put down the weapon that They used to beat you. Becoming the Beater is not growth, it’s the worst-case scenario.

Works by minorities do not have to be focused on their marginalized identities. Some ladies want to ride dragons AND other ladies. The pressure on minorities to create the Next Great Minority Character Study that will inevitably get snuffed at the Oscars/Peabody Awards is some bullshit when straight white dudes walk around shitting out mediocre screenplays and books.

Canadians can stfu about how the US is handling COVID-19 actually. Love most of yall, but the number of Canadian snowbirds on vacation (VACATION??? VA.CAT.ION.) in the supposed “hotbed” of my region that I’ve had to inform our mask policies and social distancing to is ASTOUNDING. Incroyable! I guess your country has a sizable population of entitled, privileged, inconsiderate, wealthy, and ignorant people making things difficult for everyone, just like mine :)

No trick to eliminate glasses fog while wearing my mask has worked, not a single one, it actually has affected my job and work speed and is incredibly frustrating, and I have to deal with it and pretend it’s not a problem while still encouraging others to follow the rules for everyone’s safety and the cognitive dissonance is driving me insane.

It’s really really really not anti-Japanese... to be uncomfortable with the rampant pedophilia in manga and anime, and voice this. I really can’t compare western animation’s sneakier bullshit with pantyshots of a 12-year-old girl.

Most of the people in the cottagecore aesthetic/tag have zero interest in all the hard work that comes with maintaining an isolated property in the countryside, milking cows and tending crops before sunrise, etc. And that’s okay? They just like flowers and pretty pottery and homemade pastries. Idk where discourse about this came from.

You think mint chip ice-cream tastes like toothpaste because you’re missing a receptor that can distinguish the flavors, and that sucks for you. It’s a sort of “taste-blindness” that can make gum spicy to some while others can eat a ghost pepper without crying.

Being a spectacle for the oppressive class doesn’t make them respect us, it makes them unafraid of us. This means they continue to devour us, but without fear of our retaliation.

Only like 4 people on tumblr dot com are actually prepared for the full ramifications of an actual revolution. The rest of you just really imprinted onto Katniss, or grew up in the suburbs.

Straight crushes are normal. They’re people first, sexual orientation second. Can’t always know.

The road to body positivity is not easy, especially if what you desire is what you aren’t.

You’re actually personally responsible for not voluntarily bringing yourself into an environment that you know is not fit for you unless you have the resolve to manage it. Can’t break a glass ceiling without getting a few cuts. This one’s a shoutout to my homophobic temp coworkers who decided working a venue with a drag show would be a good idea. This is also is a shoutout to people who want to make waves but are surprised when the boat tips. And also a shoutout to people who—wait that’s it’s own controversial opinion hold up.

Straight people can and should stay the fuck out of gay bars and queer spaces. “yoUrE bEInG diVisiVe” go fuck yourself.

[bigskydreaming]

thehollowprince said: I am looking forward to seeing how this all unfolds, because its a great premise, though I don’t know if I would have attempted to juggle all the chimeras the way you are. Although, speaking of chimeras, where’s Theo? I have a hunch he’s the one “helping” Hayden’s sister, and I’m curious as to what happened to the other chimera? The big one with the Garuda talons? Belasko?

Belasko is long dead and gone in this, he was a willing accomplice/minion of the Dread Doctors and official in-story fate for him is that he thus eventually died from incompatibility with his ‘donor’ material the way several of the other chimeras did in canon and Hayden was going to without Scott giving her the bite. The reason the chimeras are all werewolves here is because as Corey briefly alluded to while he and Lucas were investigating the creepy Fae Murder-House, they WERE chimeras created/experimented on by the DD just like in the show. 

And when Scott and his core pack of Malia, Aiden and Ethan plus the surviving members of Satomi’s pack who escaped Kali with them like Brett, Carrie and Lori, like....when pre-story, they tracked down the Doctors’ most recent lair in the hopes of finding Theo, who Scott, Malia, Aiden and Ethan hoped was still alive even though they believed he died in their original escape from the Doctors, they found the other chimeras and took them with them instead. Eventually, of course, some of them like Hayden started dying because of their chimera natures, and since the Scott of this AU has different issues with the bite and his werewolf nature because of how things went down here versus how they happened in canon.....one of the ripple effects of that is here he’s less opposed to offering the bite when it seems needed, and so he offered and they all accepted rather than risk the poisoning fate that they had no way of knowing whether or not it might happen to them all at some point or not.

The not in-story explanation for the lack of Belasko is I simply said, with feeling, “Oh FUCK no, that is NOT remotely what a garuda is, Davis you freaking hack, Garuda isn’t even something you can freaking pluralize since he’s a being not a supernatural species, and I already oh fucked no this with Hayden and your nagual shit and oh fucked no this with your wendigo and skinwalker shit and I just effin’ refuse to oh fuck no this again so y’know what, Belasko’s dead, he died, oh no, much sadness, no more ‘garuda’ chimeras. And what the fuck was even up with his plot vehicle of a power anyway, like why the fuck did you even decide that ‘garuda’ was the best and only match for ‘a supernatural being that takes other peoples’ powers.’ Like, we get it, you made the chimeras to be the X-Men story nobody was ever going to pay you to write, but Belasko’s no fucking Rogue, and know what? Now you did it, I just decided in fact he’s just dead. You only have yourself to blame. Shouldn’t have made him suck, then maybe somebody would give a shit.”

Ahem. Anyway. Yeah that’s the backstory for the lack of Belasko. In shorter news, Donovan also died offscreen simply because I was fucking sick to death of everything said about him and that stupid shoe-horned ‘schism’ resulting from his canon death so I just made the executive decision to just nope him out of existence and just Not with him instead.

The only other remaining chimera was Noah, the berserker chimera played by Jordan Fisher who as you know, I very much like and felt was wasted by the show, so he’s still very much around and kicking, as was briefly mentioned when they were talking about Hayden’s sister.. He accepted the bite the same as the rest of the chimeras, but he still had a home and family he felt missed him and was worth going back to, so he went home with Scott and the rest of the pack’s blessing and well-wishes. That was very much laid in there as a Chekhov’s gun of a plot point to pay off later. (Hayden of course misses her sister a great deal, but she suffers from some insecurities and doubts pre-existing from her and Val’s parents’ deaths that made her feel that going home would just mean danger would follow her there, much like the reason Scott left and stayed away from Beacon Hills. Whereas Noah doesn’t have similar reasons or Peter-related issues for feeling this way and mostly was just sure if his mother could hear him expressing such a sentiment, she’d ground the shit out of him for even thinking that was an acceptable explanation for staying away. He was always meant to show up eventually though).

ACTUAL SPOILER-Y SPOLERS I guess, if anybody is concerned on that front at this point, lmfao:

And yup, Theo is absolutely the ‘anonymous source’ behind Hayden’s sister suddenly deciding out of the blue that there was some clue to be found in New York. He did survive and has been playing a longterm game of his own all along, because I stan a villainous Theo who isn’t an inherently just evil or irredeemable character, but one who has believed himself to be the only one looking out for his best interests and used to doing so for long enough that he has as of now convinced himself he can explain or justify most any actions he takes for this reason, at least enough to satisfy his own conscience. I just find Theo incredibly more compelling as the teenage version of canon Peter to act as a foil to Scott, as opposed to the teenage version of fanon Peter to act as a victim to Scott, y’know, the way most everybody decided to view him as.

The spoiler-y part is that like Aiden and Ethan briefly mentioned to each other when they first showed up in Beacon Hills, Theo was one of the original DD captives in this universe, along with Scott, Malia, Aiden and Ethan - a werewolf being experimented alongside the other four by the Doctors, for their ‘unique’ traits. (Malia and Theo’s full-shift abilities, Aiden and Ethan’s ‘twin connection’ and Scott’s seemingly greater-than-average resistance to magic like mountain ash circles, with this of course actual being an indicator of his future status as a True Alpha. The one and only difference I made to Theo’s backstory here is that he’s actually a werewolf and not a chimera here. He was changed by a rogue Alpha’s bite at one point, much like he’d claimed originally on the show). Anyway, at one point, the Doctors’ experiments finally triggered Scott’s ascension to True Alpha by essentially pushing at his protective instincts in regards to the others. 

But while this was something the Doctors were aiming for, having their own uses for a potential True Alpha’s power/nature, there was an unexpected side-effect they hadn’t planned for, given that there wasn’t much data for them to go off of when it came to True Alphas because of how rare they are (at least by the time the Dread Doctors came along, though that wasn’t always the case, as Alberich expressed to Lucas and Corey).

What they didn’t account for stems back to that long as fuck meta I wrote ages ago about how I view ‘the shape you take reflects the person you are’ in canon, and True Alphas. Basically, my take has always been you either are a True Alpha or you’re not. There’s no ‘level-up’ process, no ACTUAL ‘ascension.’ To me, TA just means like.....a werewolf who is ALWAYS more of a leader than ever a follower, since even other Alphas like Derek, Peter, and the Alpha Pack have demonstrated that at least before they were each alphas, they were all more than capable of and willing to exist as betas to another alpha, even if that alpha was just their direct predecessor and a born relative. Scott’s unique-ness within the Teen Wolf universe ultimately comes down to one thing and one thing only for me.....no matter how his personal views and morality evolved and changed over time, the one thing that was a constant was that no matter what, he was never willing to follow anyone he didn’t believe had a ‘right’ to lead him or command him, and he wasn’t swayed by the usual arguments of why a werewolf like him, a seeming beta, SHOULD view someone like Peter or Derek having the ‘right’ to command his allegiance. 

Because even though he wasn’t technically an Alpha until 3A......Scott by Derek’s own admission was never really a beta or an omega. To be a beta, he would have had to ACTUALLY accept Peter or Derek’s ability or right to command his allegiance, which he never actually did, and he was never really an omega either, because as Derek said in S2, he realized the reason he had so much trouble convincing Scott to join him was he was already the alpha of his own pack. Since, like Scott’s later pack always included non-werewolves, there was never actually any reason why Allison and Stiles COULDN’T have been considered his pack all along.

The only reason IMO that Scott wasn’t a True Alpha from day one, is because he came into the werewolf world not having a clue what the ‘rules’ were, and from day one, every single person to fill him in on what the rules were, did so according to their traditional/more common views of how ‘things worked.’ He didn’t immediately reveal himself as a TA because he didn’t realize such a thing even existed, or it was even possible to be one, and so for a time it kinda existed....in flux, as it were. He wasn’t truly a beta or omega because neither was in his nature - he was very much a social creature, a pack entity more suited to being surrounded by others than a loner, but he was also not remotely someone willing to set aside his own views, beliefs or goals in order to follow someone else’s, even if the price for that unwillingness was being essentially outcast as far as both ‘normal werewolf society’ and normal human society viewed things. He simply reflected the IMAGE of being a beta or an omega, gold eyes and all, because as far as he knew, as far as he’d internalized as of that point, that was who he was supposed to be or all he COULD possibly be. 

What changed this for him wasn’t just being made aware that True Alphas were a thing, albeit rare, like in 3A when Deaton first mentioned it. Because after all, the only REASON Deaton brought it up, was because Scott and others were ALREADY confused by the occasional flickers of alpha red they witnessed his eyes showing, like in the fight with Ennis, and technically, going all the way back to Night School in S1, where his eyes flickered red when he defied Peter’s efforts to mentally exert dominance over him and make him kill the others. Basically, just like when he matched Ennis blow for blow, even if just briefly, even though as the bigger, stronger, and more experienced and ALPHA werewolf Ennis should have swatted him aside like a fly, not just knocked him back a few feet......the flickers of Alpha red showed up just when Scott seemingly defied the ‘rules’ of werewolf nature and refused to give way to an Alpha’s dominance the way that most other betas and omegas typically were seen or believed to. 

IMO its as simple as ‘at these times and others, Scott SHOWED that he was simply NOT a beta, he refused to follow any convictions MORE than his own, and he was consistently SHOWN to never truly be an omega, because how can someone be packless when someone has people already willing to follow HIM’.....and thus, he was a True Alpha all along, simply because Alpha was the only word left to describe him, even if he never inherited the ‘power’ from another Alpha or ‘stole it’ by killing one. The only thing that ever actually changed for him, was that he existed as a werewolf long enough and in enough defiance of ‘the way things worked’ that he just stopped ACCEPTING that beta and omega were the only two options that existed to define him, and he just for the first time fully internalized his own belief that he didn’t NEED others to define him, that it was enough that he just exist as he already was. His own self-image, self-WORTH, was all that he needed. 

And that’s why the pivotal moment in which he ‘ascended’ to True Alpha once and for all, was basically when he was once again saying ‘fuck you’ to the ‘rules’ when he broke through Jennifer’s mountain ash circle, something he shouldn’t have been capable of. He was able to do it, and manifest fully as the True Alpha he’d been all along, because in that moment, he deliberately and with INTENT, like with full conscious awareness of what he was doing, that he was fully attempting to accomplish what everyone else claimed was impossible, he basically said “the rules don’t matter to me, the fact that everyone believes I SHOULDN’T be able to do this doesn’t matter to me, the only thing that matters to me is I’m going to do it whether anyone else believes I can or not. Only I and I alone get to decide who I am and what I’m capable of.”

THAT in my opinion is what True Alpha always meant, and its why Scott was the only one we saw on the show....because his narrative, deliberately from day one, was ALWAYS one of self-determination above all else.

So basically, the same logic and reasoning all applies to LC and his ‘ascension’ to True Alpha there....it was the same thing. He was one all along, but only became one when his conscious AND subconscious reflection of ‘the way things worked’ gave way to his stronger self-determination and refuses to just ACCEPT the way things work. And because here the Dread Doctors, like most everyone else in universe, like except for those like say, Alberich, because they just innately didn’t understand the real nature of True Alphas and what made someone one and WHY they’d become so rare (essentially, it became like a self-fulfilling prophecy - the more rare True Alphas became, the less of them there were because the less new and young werewolves believed let alone ACCEPTED that there was an alternative to following those they didn’t believe in, if they simply....refuted it enough via their own self-image).....but because the Doctors didn’t fully GET that Scott wasn’t just a potential True Alpha, but was already kinda a....True Alpha in-cocoon so to speak....they didn’t fully realize all the potential repercussions of them trying to PUSH him into manifesting as one the way they were.

And so the thing where it was mentioned that the twins, Scott and Malia all kinda ‘share’ each other’s unique traits now, with all of them able to full-shift, all of them sharing a lesser degree of the same psychic connection the twins do, and Scott’s seeming greater-than-average resistance to magic....that happened all on its own, the second Scott ‘fully’ became a True Alpha, and its the part the DD didn’t prepare for and didn’t understand. Because by not getting that Scott had already been an Alpha the whole time, they didn’t realize that these shapeshifters they’d been keeping in close proximity to one another, in shared predicaments, and clearly developing bonds because of it....like, just as Scott was already an Alpha by then, they were ALREADY a pack by then. They just didn’t know it, because well, a pack needs an alpha and they didn’t realize they already had one. So basically, they already HAD a pack bond, and thus when that combined with the Dread Doctors’ actual experiment and the kinda.....magical reaffirmation of Scott’s own self-image and alphahood rippled back through the suddenly VERY REAL and very CLEARLY real pack bond all at once, like it’d simply magically sprung into existence instead of just showing what had already been there in a different shape or form.....this all added together to kinda create this supernatural compounding effect. And thus, pretty much by accident, the Dread Doctors managed to completely unintentionally create a REAL throwback to the werewolf packs of old, like Alberich and the other Fae had ORIGINALLY ‘designed’ them to be.

Because just like the power of a werewolf comes from essentially being the supernatural embodiment of their strength of self, of their inner power, who and what they really are....(and why the shape an Alpha takes in the show varies so tremendously based on how the various Alphas viewed THEMSELVES and their own power)....

So too, is the power of a werewolf PACK the supernatural embodiment of the idea of the pack in full....the idea that the whole is GREATER than just the sum of its parts. Which is why the more werewolves get added to a pack, the more EACH individual pack member’s strength, healing, etc, increased as a whole. And thus here, that was true, but in addition, these various unique shapeshifters also ended up sharing the same traits that made each of them ON THEIR OWN fairly distinct....which actually is the way it was always intended to be, and once had been true of ancient packs.

(As of now, only the core pack of Scott, Malia, Aiden and Ethan share in this ‘level’ of their pack bond, but as for why that is, the answer is actually in the above explantion, lol).

So yeah, Scott manifested as a True Alpha, instant pack bond whammo, and reacting pretty much on instinct to the surprise this created for the DD, they escaped, largely by instinctively pulling on EACH OTHER’S individual gifts...because while the way the DD held them captive took into account their respective gifts, like say, Malia’s ability to full-shift, it DIDN’T take into account the possibility of all of them suddenly being able to full-shift without warning.

And then Scott, Malia, Aiden and Ethan escaped and spent the next several months wandering, stuck in their full-shfit shapes because they didn’t entirely yet understand what had happened or how, and so with that and the trauma they’d endured, it took them awhile to like....remember how to shift BACK, essentially.

At the time, the four of them all believed Theo had died in their escape attempt. But after they eventually got free of Kali and Julia, and had added the surviving members of Satomi’s old pack, they decided to try and track down the Dread Doctors in the hope that Theo was still alive....because now, with a better understanding of what had happened and what they were capable of, they were convinced they could still feel Theo through their initial pack bond.

Instead they found the chimeras and no sign of Theo, and with the urgency of at least getting these latest prisoners of the DD safe and sound, they kinda accepted that maybe they were wrong and it was just wishful thinking that they’d been so sure they could still feel Theo.

Or at least, Scott and Aiden did. Ethan and Malia, not quite.

You remember when Josh, Tracy, Lucas and Corey met with Malia in the park at night while Lucas and Corey told them about meeting Alberich and everything he’d said and hinted at, and the ‘offer’ he’d asked them to take to Scott? And how Malia firmly shut that shit down and all but ordered all of them not to say a word, because as she said, Scott absolutely would take Alberich’s deal without a second thought, to keep the rest of them safe, no matter what it meant for him? When they asked if that meant not telling the twins either, and Malia said yes because Ethan would agree but Aiden never would, and Lucas asked if this meant she and Ethan HAD ever before kept something from Scott and Aiden specifically and she said yes but refused to elaborate further.....this is what that was referencing.

Because when they went back for Theo and found the chimeras instead, Ethan and Malia ended up on their own at one point, and this is when they discovered that Theo had been a plant all along. Yes he was a werewolf in this AU, but he’d still ended up working for the Dread Doctors in exchange for getting away from the Alpha who’d turned him. They’d put him in with the others under the guise of him just being another experiment, in order to utilize him as a kind of control variable to nudge the others in ways and at times they expected them to be resistant to just going along with the Doctors’ latest experiment.

At the time, they didn’t find any proof that Theo was still alive after all, just this, so Malia and Ethan did still very much believe that he was dead at this point, same as Scott and Aiden now.....and so they felt that there was no point in telling them this and disillusioning them with Theo’s betrayal/complicity the way they felt betrayed by this information, and that it would just make things worse. They honestly felt they were protecting them by doing this, or at least Scott as he was the one they were concerned would take it the worst given how much responsibility he feels for everything and everyone.....but they also agreed not to tell Aiden as they didn’t think he’d agree to keep it from Scott. As Aiden in this AU is extremely ride or die from Scott and hates subterfuge as a general rule (but also, because hiding the info about Theo and this deal about Alberich is absolutely doomed to bite them in the ass, and Scott needed to have at least ONE of the inner circle who wasn’t hiding anything from him, specifically BECAUSE they knew he wouldn’t agree to it, just like Josh is of course, Very Not Happy about being asked to hide this stuff about Alberich and his offer).

So yeah, Theo of course did survive the original escape attempt and escaped himself and decided to stay that way and that he’d had enough of the Doctors’ ‘help’/employment.....

But also in no small part because he’d ended up getting hit by/included in the pack bond the same as the others when it manifested, and considering he was as clueless why as any of them at first, he had no doubt that if he stayed in the Doctors’ reach, they’d be quite keen to use him for all their experiments into why and what it meant regardless of his ‘allegiances.’

Ever since then, he’s kinda been on his own doing his own thing, and he had no plans to go after the others or do anything more to them at first, as this Theo DOES still have a conscience and while he believes in looking out for number one, it DID still at times ping while lying to the others.....but that kinda changed once he worked out for himself a little bit of what it meant that he still could ‘feel’ the others, as well as being more resistant to magic now than he’d been previously. Because to ACTUALLY partake in the pack bond that’d been created, that meant that at least some of the bond he’d ‘faked’ creating with the others actually HAD been real. It wouldn’t have been enough for just THEM to believe it’d been real, and him to benefit from getting their portion of things as a result, like he’d originally tried to convince himself. Because see, once he did track down the others and observe them from afar, just to test his own theories, he found out that just like him....Scott and the twins now could full-shift into coyotes, like Malia. That, after all, was what they’d all gotten from her.

But, they - and Malia - ALSO could full-shift into wolves. Just like him.

And that, they could have ONLY gotten from HIM. The others didn’t get just a full-shift ability from Malia....they got the ability to shift fully into BOTH their wolf selves, and a coyote version of themselves, due to how closely related wolves and coyotes are, and thus they just sort of manifest slightly different selves via that shared family connection. It probably wouldn’t have worked the same way if Malia had been like a were-bear shifter or something, but another canine, yeah. They don’t use the other shape much at all, because for Scott, Ethan, Aiden and Theo, the wolf is what FEELS most like ‘them,’ whereas the coyote feels like a comfortable, well-fitting disguise they can slip into from time to time, while for Malia its the same in reverse, but its still something they each have. 

And thus while the others could make the assumption, given that they thought Theo was dead or dead and a fake the whole time, that both full-shifts came from Malia’s ability just combined with the wolf nature of the other three.....for Theo, there was no denying that the reality was that the wolf full-shifts came from him. From him - unknowingly or not - ACTUALLY offering it up through the pack bond....something that only could have happened as something he GAVE, not that they just TOOK. Something, that was proof that somehow, without realizing it, the bonds he’d formed during that initial time had actually become a lot more real than he’d convinced even himself.

And Theo does NOT care for that realization.

Because see, if ANY of that was real, on his end, that gave those pings of his conscience from way back then renewed life and intensity, and frankly, he doesn’t care too much for his conscience. Its loud and annoying and inconvenient, and he’d quite like it to go suck a dick when he’s being comfortably amoral and doing whatever he damn well feels like doing for no other reason than because he feels like it. But now the thing’s always peskily droning away in the background reminding him its there, and Theo unfortunately tends to make some of his worst decisions when he’s testily trying to prove to his conscience that you’re not the boss of me and bitch, I do what I want.

Plus there’s the fact that on top of this, the very idea of MUTUAL pack bonds gives Theo very icky feelings of things like...obligation, and concern, and other four letter words that he very much just does not fuck with, thanks ever so much. With the cherry on top of his “I Did Not Ask For This, Please Take It Back To The Kitchen But No Not The Added Powers Too, Those Can Stay, I Like Those” Pie being that, well.....like I said, the reason none of them or the Dread Doctors realized ahead of time that they were already a pack, is because a pack needs an Alpha.

Which in time, makes Theo realize, that if on some level, he’s actually and still actually PACK, in his own subconscious as much as theirs.....then this by extension means....on some level, he views and accepts Scott as his alpha.

Theo: OH HELLLLLLLLLL NO.

Which, to my mind, is why Theo was always the perfect foil for Scott. Scott is a True Alpha who THINKS he’s okay with following but in actuality is never truly comfortable allowing another’s will to supersede his own, and would rather be on his own than with someone he’s uncomfortable following. Theo is a lone wolf who THINKS he’s okay being one and would never follow anyone but himself, but in actuality, he’s never truly been comfortable alone and he’s willing to allow others’ will to supersede his own if they offer comfort that outweighs his discomfort with the idea.

So Theo’s around making moves in the background because he has his own agenda for Fixing This and making things more in line with how he’d like them. There’s definitely an end game for that but I wouldn’t say its total redemption-oriented as he has absolutely Fucked Stuff Up before this point and will continue to do so, and with gusto, because he’s kinda his own worst enemy, but neither is it outright vilifaction and death and/or total ostracization/exile-esque. Its more...Theo is very much still in flux, somewhat like Scott was between being bitten and ‘becoming’ a True Alpha, and nothing that doesn’t go smoothly is totally without consequences. Its just.....Theo’s complicated, and he’s going to remain so, but what that means exactly tends to change over time. But like, Malia is also complicated, and so are Ethan and Aiden, and so is Scott, and they are all very different versions of complicated, so.......basically all I’m saying is I don’t think I could ever write a Theo that’s fully a ‘Good Guy’ but as much as I detest show Theo, like the twins, its because he could have been written a lot differently and been a lot more compelling for it, all without ever being a ‘Good Guy’ and so I’m not actually all that interested in writing him as an out and out no holds barred villain either.

[nekojitachan]

How to Steal a Million pt2

So, here’s another part of this story, no clue how many more (at least a few?). More Foxes appear! Yay!

Uhm, lots of bantering, very mild violence, some swearing, think that’s about it? Oh, and obvious some dubious life choices/actions here.

*******

*******          

“I mean, can you believe it?” Neil asked as he tugged on his bangs while seated on a stack of new tires in the middle of Matt’s garage while his friend worked on the Ferrari. “He keeps cackling about the damn postcards and ticket revenue and… and he’s insane!”

“Uhm, you know that those are your genes, right?” Matt’s deep voice drifted out from underneath the sports car, followed by a yelp when Neil gave his right calf a kick. “Hey! Not funny,” he complained as he scooted out from beneath the car, frowning face smeared with grease in a couple of spots and ridiculous hair covered by a bright orange bandana (also smeared with grease).

“Huh, I was thinking much the same thing,” Neil muttered as he glared at his friend. “You’re supposed to be commiserating with me, not insulting me!”

“Okay.” Matt took a deep breath as he sat up on the floor dolly thing and dabbed at the mess on his left cheek. “You’re upset that Stuart isn’t selling one of his fakes for once? I don’t get it.”

“He’s basically parading around a fake in front of thousands of people!” Neil hissed as he waved his arms about, upset that Matt wasn’t following. “What if they realize it’s not the real thing?”

“But Stuart’s really good at what he does,” Matt argued as he looked about for something.

“He’s a forger and a thief.”

“Says the guy who showed up earlier with a stolen Ferrari – I don’t think you have the strongest argument here, Red.” When Neil’s glare went up a notch, Matt held up his hands in a placating manner. “Hey, not throwing any stones, but you can toss me the rachet wrench near your left foot – you know, the thing that makes the ‘rrrrch, rrrch’ sound when you turn it?”

“I know what a rachet wrench is by now,” Neil mumbled as he picked up the thing and tossed it (lightly) at his friend. “And I stole the damn car because I’ll most likely need the money for when Stuart and I flee the country in a rush sometime within the next week – which I shouldn’t have to explain myself to the person who’s currently modifying it so it can be sold to some crime lord with an ego problem.”

“Victor’s a decent guy for a crime lord, and I don’t want to hear any bitching from a Hatford,” Matt threw back at him. “’Oooh, look who’s slumming right now’,” he called out in a high-pitched voice as his head waggled from side to side. “’Let me break out the tea and crumpets and lots of sharp knives’.”

“You’re an ass,” Neil laughed as he got up to tug the bandanna down his friend’s face, as well as to muss up his gravity-defying hair; it was then that Dan, Matt’s girlfriend, walked in on them.

“What did I tell you?” she called out as Matt wrapped his damn gorilla arms around Neil’s hips. “If you’re finally going to make a move on the boy, wait until I’m here to join in.”

“Eh?” Neil blinked at that odd statement while Matt laughed and, after giving him a smack on the ass, pushed him away so he could stand up and go give Dan a kiss – carefully, since she was dressed for a ‘day’ of work, in a fitted pant suit that hid the holstered gun and various knives on her person, as befitted her job as a well-regarded bodyguard. “How was work?”

“Horrible. I was half-tempted to shoot the whiny bastard myself, no wonder his company’s paying people to keep him alive.” Dan rolled her eyes as she unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the white shirt beneath it (and the leather straps of her holster). “Just had to keep focusing on the paycheck.”

“That’s what I love about you, always thinking ahead,” Matt said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Should get a nice cut from this latest job, too. Then you can take a break from assholes for a while and work on your charity cases.”

“Yeah, Renee’s already got a couple names lined up for me.” A pleased smile lit up Dan’s face, wiping away the exhaustion and bitterness from before and highlighting a beauty she rarely enhanced with makeup. “Can’t wait for a nice vacation from the bastards.”

“Well, you do live with Matt,” Neil teased, and laughed when the tall freak attempted to kick back at him.

“Such a troublemaker,” Dan remarked as she came over to tousle his hair. “And did you bring this in? I thought you were more into cons with Allison and some B&E these days, not back to stealing cars.”

“He’s convinced that Stuart’s finally done something stupid enough to bring the police down on them,” Matt explained as he sat down on the dolly. “I’m not gonna complain since I get to work on this beauty, earn some money and get in Victor’s good books.”

At Dan’s curious look, Neil sighed. “He got it in his head to allow our copy, the fake copy, of the Cellini Venus to go on display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.”

“What?” Dan’s dark eyes went wide and she ran her hands over her dark brown, short curls in a sign of frustration. “There was a lot of activity around the museum today, them preparing for a big event that the asshole complained about having to miss because of some other commitment.”

“Yeah, they’re having a party tonight to kick off the collection, something like that.” Neil returned to the stack of tires and pulled his right knee to his chest as he thought about the whole mess. “Usually Stuart’s sensible about things,” he thought about that statement and sighed, “somewhat sensible, but all he’s babbling about now is postcards and cuts and other nonsense. I’m ready to throttle him.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Dan gave a gentle stroke to his hair. “If you need to crash anywhere, you know you can stay with us.”

“Thanks.” He grimaced a little as he thought about the whole mess. “I hope he gets whatever this is out of his system without us getting into too much trouble. It’s gonna suck if we have to avoid Paris from now on.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Dan assured him. “You always tend to think the worst, too.”

Maybe because he was used to things going pear-shaped on him? Though to be honest, usually his family or his friends came through for him in the end. “Yeah, well, I remember a few close calls like the Saini con-“

“Aw, but some people would give almost anything to spend half a night trapped beneath a desk with Allison!” Matt declared from beneath the Ferrari.

“-or the Friedrich incident,” Neil finished with a scowl.

“I still don’t know how you and Renee managed to hide all those knives on your bodies and not rattle when you walked,” Dan confessed with a wince.

“We were just grateful that you did,” Matt called out.

“Well, is it too much to hope that this exhibition will end without me being stuck in a small space or knives being involved?” Neil asked as he stared at Dan with a hopeful look, only to feel the emotion die when she gazed back with pity. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but knowing your uncle and your luck? Get out the whetstone and be thankful you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Fuck,” Neil repeated as he reconsidered his stance on not drinking.

*******

Andrew fought the urge to tug at his bowtie for the eighth time that night and reminded himself that in another twenty-three minutes he could leave the boring as hell party; at that point, he’d already gathered enough information on how the place’s security worked, especially around a crowd.

He wasn’t that impressed with the Kleber-Lafayette Museum. Then again, he wasn’t impressed with much in life.

He ignored the interested look some woman dressed in a sparkling gold cocktail dress gave him as he snatched a glass of passible champagne from a tray full of them, and noted the unimpressed one he received from another young woman wearing an expensive as fuck Dior gown which had just been on the runway a week ago. It took his brain a moment to supply a name – Allison Reynolds, disowned heiress but still rich bitch extraordinaire, determined to live by her own rules and somehow able to get by in society despite that fact. Andrew raised his glass to her and was surprised when she arched an elegant eyebrow and raised her own in return.

After another lap of the main room (and another careful survey of the party’s attendees), Andrew stopped at his partner’s side; Kevin had undone his tie, but it had been a bit of a rough night once his old ‘friend’ had shown up. Andrew noted that there was a glass of water in Kevin’s scarred left hand and not alcohol, which meant that his friend had recovered from the shock. “Five more minutes.”

Kevin’s handsome face twisted with annoyance. “Some people enjoy being surrounded by works of art,” he said, voice rich with reproach. “The Kleber-Lafayette has quite the collection of-“

“Don’t care,” Andrew sang out as he rocked back and forth on his toes. “Seen one splattering of pastels, seen ‘em all.”

As he’d counted on, Kevin’s face grew flushed with anger. “You’re a disgrace to the profession,” he gritted out as he pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his right hand.

“No I’m not, I’m the best at what I do,” Andrew reminded his partner. “And three minutes, now.”

Instead of arguing, Kevin merely shook his head and finished his water, then set the empty glass aside on the nearby small table before motioning for them to leave (one minute early, such a reprieve). They were quiet as they escaped from the boring party, at least until they reached the Jaguar F-type Andrew was renting during their stay in Paris.

He removed the jacket to his tux and the damn tie before he slid behind wheel, relieved to be done acting ‘proper’ for the night. “It’s not the worse job we’ve had, but it’s not the best, either. They seem to have somewhat paid attention to us when we gave them the security review.”

“Somewhat,” Kevin muttered as he jerked his left hand through his hair. “When are they going to learn that it’s better to spend the money on everything we recommend? Whining about extra lasers doesn’t matter if someone walks off with a Monet and their insurance fees skyrocket as a result.”

“Not our fault if they don’t listen to us,” Andrew reminded him. “Speaking about artwork, I’m going to be busy tonight.” When Kevin glanced at him, he gave a shrug as he fished out his pack of cigarettes from the center console. “Something’s bothering me about that Venus statue.”

“The Cellini one?”

“Yeah.” Andrew frowned as he lit the cigarette. “I don’t like how Josten just so happens to find all these amazing pieces of artwork, which end up in private collections and so avoid any real tests.”

“But he signed the papers which allow the statue to be tested for insurance purposes,” Kevin reminded him.

“Hmm.” It would be a big scandal if the statue was found out to be fake, though, so Andrew would rather know sooner rather than later and warn the museum if there was going to be a scandal (and earn a bonus as a result). “I wonder if he knows that, considering all the documents he signed. Anyway, we’re here, he’s here, I want to take a look at his house since I’ve always been suspicious about his collection.”

“You’re suspicious about everyone,” Kevin muttered as he slumped down in the passenger seat. “I still remember what you did to the poor woman whose job it was to clean your hotel room in Barcelona.”

“Because she didn’t obey the ‘do not disturb’ sign, and don’t change the subject,” Andrew argued. “Was I right about Zhang?” He waited for his partner to nod. “What about Bambey? Riopert? Zimmerman? Abe? I can go on all night.”

“Whatever, just don’t get caught, the French police aren’t happy with you after the whole Devine case,” Kevin just had to remind him.

“Yes, but I was right about that one, too,” Andrew said as he flicked ash out the window. It was quiet in the car as he drove them back to the hotel for a couple of minutes. “So what did the bastard say to you, hmm?” He’d seen Moriyama talk to Kevin from across the room, but the bastard had moved on before he could reach his friend’s side.

“Just… a snide comment or two about me ‘slumming’, that of course I was only there for work and about me tending to a mess someone made as if I was the cleaning staff,” Kevin admitted as his jaw tightened in anger. “Enough to remind me of how much I hate him.”

Nothing new, in other words; Riko Moriyama was still the spoiled, sociopathic bastard he’d always been, but Kevin had moved on enough to no longer let him tear him down. “He’s nothing without his uncle’s name and money. Not even his own brother wants anything to do with him.”

“Yeah.” Being reminded of Riko’s many issues always made Kevin happy. “Oh, he seemed obsessed with the Cellini, now that I remember. Kept staring at it and asking the museum staff about it.”

Something to keep in mind in case Riko proved to be trouble, which usually was the case. “Probably saw a new shiny he wants.”

“Yeah.” As if not wanting to talk about the bastard any longer (understandable), Kevin changed the subject to a couple of potential clients he’d met during the evening, whom he planned to follow up with during the next several days. Andrew grunted in agreement since it would keep the man busy – that and Kevin always did better at that sort of thing than him.

Once back at the hotel, they went their separate ways; Andrew imagined that Kevin would call it a night since he’d be up early in the morning to hit the workout room, while he changed into a more suitable outfit for sneaking about and double-checked the address he had for one Stuart Josten. Then it was back out for some ‘fun’.

*******

Neil was in bed attempting to read a book which Renee had lent him on ‘living kindly’ (she tried, she really did, but somehow he doubted that he’d manage a similar conversion like hers) when an alert on his phone went off to inform him that someone had tripped a silent alarm he’d installed near one of the house’s windows. For a moment he debated calling Davis, who was out with Stuart at that awful party, to come back and take care of the problem, but it had been very frustrating couple of days so he figured why not deal with things himself and then call the man to clean up the mess? Plan (more or less) in mind, he reached for the gun in the nightstand before he decided on the knife beneath his pillow instead (less noise) then slipped out of bed dressed in a dark grey t-shirt and boxer-briefs. His phone showed that the opened window had been downstairs, so he snuck down the staircase, where there were faint sounds in the main sitting room.

It was dark, but Neil’s night vision was good and enough ambient light came through the windows for him to make out a short shape dressed in dark clothes doing something to the new Van Gogh forgery hanging on the one wall. As quietly as he could manage, Neil snuck up behind the thief, and almost was within reach when the man (?) took the painting down and turned around.

Neil had the impression of pale skin and hazel eyes gone wide in surprise before the artwork was dropped and the man (definitely a man) launched himself forward; Neil raised his arms to block and got the knife up as he was knocked onto the floor.

“Mr. Josten, I presume,” the asshole said as Neil struggled to regain his breath from the impact and a heavy asshole laid out on top of him, the knife held back a hair’s breadth from said asshole’s neck.

“Yes, nice to meet you, larcenous asshole,” Neil replied as he tried to close that tiny gap, but said asshole was strong.

“Such harsh words.” Larcenous Asshole’s voice was deep and, judging from his accent, he was an American.

“Well, you did break into my house and try to steal a painting. I’m merely calling a spade a spade.”

Larcenous Asshole clicked his tongue as if annoyed, his gaze never once roaming from Neil’s face despite the knife. “I was only taking one painting. You have so many, chances were good you wouldn’t even have missed it.”

“Right, a priceless piece of art like that, we’d never have noticed.” Neil swore that those almost golden eyes narrowed the slightest bit at his comment. “What was I thinking?”

“Like I said, you have so many,” Larcenous Asshole drawled. “And it’s not as if you’re really going to do anything about it, a rich fop of a boy like you.”

“Well, by that reckoning, I’m sure there’s so many other larcenous assholes out there, who’ll notice if I rid the world of one, hmm?” Neil gave the man his father’s grin as he put a bit more effort into moving his right hand, and was rewarded when the knife touched bare skin.

He was also rewarded by seeing another flash of surprise on the otherwise impassive face above him as Larcenous Asshole jerked back away from the knife; Neil used the distraction to bring up his right knee to land a blow which at least hit the man in the very upper thigh if not in the intended target and so gave him enough room to wiggle free.

Both of them scrambled onto their feet, Larcenous Asshole with a bit less grace and a lot of wincing, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when his ‘guest’ pulled a knife of his own. “Aw, is playtime over?”

Larcenous Asshole scowled at him, the look slight but definitely there (Neil was used to people giving him dirty looks). “You cut me and tried to knee me in the balls. What type of society fop are you?” he demanded to know as he fingered where the knife had (barely) cut into his neck.

“A society fop who knows how to defend himself and his home. What type of Larcenous Asshole are you if you can’t take a little abuse, hmm?” Neil asked as he fought the urge to flip the knife (well, flip or throw, one of the two – wait, L.A. was standing on the 16th century Persian, so go with ‘flip’ until the bastard moved somewhere better for bloodstains).

“I break into spoiled rich people’s homes, I don’t expect much of a struggle. Also, bleeding,” L.A hissed through clenched teeth.

“You say that as if it’s my problem. Well, actually, take a few steps to the right just in case I cut a little deeper than I thought, won’t you? That rug is priceless.” Neil made a shooing motion with his left hand.

“You are fucked up, which is saying something coming from me,” L.A. declared as he risked a glance at the blood on his fingertips. “Also, I’m thinking that you’re not going to call the cops or else you’d be on the phone already, and I’m not sure you want me dead despite the lovely threats otherwise. So are we going to flirt all night or is there a point to this?”

Dammit… he may be an asshole, but the guy wasn’t stupid; Neil couldn’t call the cops, not when the house was filled with forgeries, and he was hesitant to kill him outright when he wasn’t sure if the man belonged to a syndicate which might cause the Hatfords trouble in the future – there was something about L.A which made Neil think he wasn’t an amateur off the streets. Torn over what to do, Neil eyed him up and down a couple of times before he sighed.

“I’m not flirting,” he insisted, and when L.A. opened his mouth, flipped the knife into a throwing position. “Now, this can either end up in your eye or I can put it away, which do you prefer?”

L.A. gave him a narrow look for a couple of seconds before he huffed. “Away,” he said, deep voice tinged with something that might be respect as he waited for Neil to lower his weapon before he did the same. “Spare a band-aid before I leave?”

Neil considered the question for a moment before he motioned the thief to follow him to the kitchen. “Come on, can’t have you walking around all bloody and raise suspicion.” He wouldn’t risk the police noticing the man and then have them knocking on his door once the story about their little ‘adventure’ got out.

L.A. walked beside him (over an arm’s length away), careful attention paid to his surroundings on the way to the kitchen; he kept glancing at the various artworks on the wall as if making note of them, and then at the various items in the kitchen. Neil remained focused on the thief in return as he went to the one cupboard which stored the smaller medical kit, which he placed on the table (still out of arm’s reach). “There. I imagine an asshole like you is used to patching himself up after people try to kill him.”

The man’s eyes narrowed again, the only sign that the jab might have struck home. “Can we keep personalities out of this conversation? I think maybe you wouldn’t care to have yours brought up.”

“What? I’m an angel, ask my friends,” Neil announced as he tapped his knife on top of the table.

“Are you friends homicidal, too?” L.A. scoffed.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, no dead bodies around here. At least, not yet. Let me know if you’re willing to change that before I waste any bandages on you, hmm.” Neil motioned to the kit.

Now the look turned contemplative before L.A. pulled the kit toward him. “Sorry, don’t plan on dying tonight. Bad enough I won’t have a nice painting to fence as it is.”

“You can always try the Dhedins’ down the street, I hear they’ve an amazing collection of Degas.” Neil offered a version of his Uncle Will’s smile as he propped up his chin on his left hand.

“How thoughtful of you,” L.A. replied in a rather dry manner which belied his words while he opened the kit and took to poking around in it. “I think I’ll call it a night after nearly having my throat slit.”

“Quitter.”

The thief grunted as he tore open a disinfectant wipe then dabbed at the cut on his throat, which barely bled anymore. “I can honestly say that this night didn’t go as I thought it would.”

“I guess that tends to happen when you’re a Larcenous Asshole.”

“Andrew.”

“Hmm? No, I’m Neil.” Had the man hit his head at some point during their struggle? Was he on drugs? Usually Neil was good at spotting those things.

L.A. sighed as he used another wipe to clean up the blood. “My name is ‘Andrew’. I’m tired of you calling me that.”

“Why, it’s what you are. You steal things and you’re an asshole, hence Larcenous Asshole. If you want, I can call you ‘Kleptomaniacal Bastard’ instead.” Neil put up with being called a ‘smart-ass’ and ‘British demon’ and ‘spawn of hell’ all the time – it was ‘sweetie’ and ‘cutie-pie’ that got on his nerves, but he liked Dan and Allison and the others so he didn’t say anything.

That and knowing his friends, they’d come up with something worse.

For some reason, L.A. looked to be in pain even though he’d already put a bandage on his neck. “I’m beginning to wish I’d let you stab me.”

“Not here in the kitchen, these tiles are from the 18th century.” Neil shrugged when L.A. took to gazing at him as if he was insane. “What, I’m not going to sit through yet another lecture from my uncle about respecting antiques.” Not after he’d used the one Damascus blade to help Davis deal with an intruder who thought to make a name for himself taking out a Hatford.

L.A. muttered something about lunatics while he ran his gloved hands over the black cap covering his head, which dislodged it enough to reveal short blond hair. “All right, I’ve reached my limit of insanity for the night. Consider me suitably punished and that I’m now reconsidering my wicked ways.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

Neil was given a flat look as L.A. rose to his feet (he was pleased to note that the thief was shorter than him, a rare thing to discover, though he possessed a much stockier build). “Isn’t it past your bedtime, kid?”

That comment earned the bastard a rude gesture.

Neil followed L.A. back to the main room, where the man picked up a small leather bag filled with the tools he’d used to circumvent the alarm on the window (but not the one he’d missed on the lower wall) and whatever else he needed on the job. “Any problem with me going out the front door?”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be a novel experience for you,” Neil said as he pulled the door open. “Be sure to savor it.”

That time he was the one given a rude gesture.

“The Dhedins’ house is the white one with the black columns and the black and gold fence,” he called out as L.A. stomped through the door. “Be sure to pet the mastiffs for me, they love getting their ears rubbed.”

He was given the finger again. Huh, after he was nice enough to warn about the puppies, too.

Some people, you just couldn’t please them.

*******

Andrew groaned when he heard the barrage of knocking on his hotel door; at first he attempted to ignore it, except it refused to stop. Throwing the sheets aside, he stomped to the door and, after undoing the various locks, yanked it open to glare at his partner. “I have no qualms about killing you, Day,” he growled.

“Not enough sharp objects here to do it justice,” Kevin said without fear as he stepped inside; only the fact that he shoved a waxed paper bag bearing the name of the nearby bakery saved him, lack of enough sharp objects or not. “After all these years, you want to savor my death.”

There was some truth to that statement; Andrew had known Kevin for several years, ever since his first year in university, which he and his brother had only gotten into thanks to a ‘charity’ scholarship program run by Kevin’s father. It had been at the end of the first semester when Kevin had shown up on the man’s doorstep, broken and bloody due to what Riko Moriyama had done to him.

Andrew hadn’t been able to get rid of the pest since then.

“So, did you find out anything about Josten’s… what the hell?” Now that Kevin had opened the drapes and turned to face Andrew, he caught sight of the bandage on his throat. “What happened?”

“One Neil Josten,” Andrew explained as he fetched a caffeine drink out of the room’s fridge to go along with his chocolate croissant. “Let me tell you, those tabloid stories about Stuart’s nephew being some shy, meek kid who doesn’t like public outings? I wanna know just how stupid those morons are who wrote them, because there was nothing shy or awkward about that ‘kid’ last night.” Or much of a ‘kid’ at all, either.

“Wait, his nephew was home? I thought the house was supposed to be empty.” Kevin sank down on the bed when Andrew shook his head before having about half of the can of sugary coffee. “Shit, how did you get out of there? Are you in trouble?”

“Funny story, that.” Andrew’s flat tone made it obvious that it wasn’t funny at all. “Josten surprised me before I could do more than a preliminary check on one of the paintings, him and a nice, shiny knife.” Kevin’s eyes widened at that, probably as much about the weapon as for the fact that someone had snuck up on Andrew. “We had a bit of a pissing contest, but it became clear that he wasn’t going to call the cops so we backed off before it went too far. He thinks I’m a thief, but he let me go.” Andrew gave Kevin an intent look after that statement. “I might not have gotten any hard proof last night, but tell me, why would he have done that unless he didn’t want the cops to check out his place, hmm?”

“That… is rather suspicious. But I’m more concerned over the fact that he tried to cut your throat.”

Andrew waved that aside then tossed a piece of croissant into his mouth. “Tried, but didn’t.” A lot of people had tried to take Andrew down, but very few interested him as much as Josten did. No, there was something about the nonchalant way the young man had handled an intruder, had coped with the violence and been able to throw about quips at the same time, the mix of violence and intelligence and ‘go ahead, just try to fuck with me’ attitude that Josten radiated….

“While you’re out doing some work, find out about Josten for me,” he told Kevin.

“And what are you going to be doing?” Kevin asked as he stood up, already dressed for a day of impressing (bs’ing) people despite it not even being noon.

“Looking into his uncle and some other things.”

For a moment, it appeared as if Kevin wanted to ask if Riko was one of those ‘other things’ before he seemed to think better of it; he knew that Andrew wouldn’t let the prick fuck with him anymore. While Andrew doubted that Riko was in Paris because of them, he still would make sure that the man stayed as far away from Kevin as possible.

“Just make sure your work involves more than checking out new bakeries,” Kevin chided as he headed for the door. “Oh, and try to get some exercise for once. I’m going to tell Betsy and Aaron if I find out you spent the day holed up in some café with your laptop.”

Andrew gave him the finger before he shoved the rest of the croissant into his mouth.

*******

First part can be found here

Also, I think I’ll be posting one of the owed ‘you guessed right’ fics later tonight, too....

[intoanrkive]

You’re gonna have to buy earplugs pt. 2

A/N: After a long day of no internet, I finally finished part two. I decided to turn this into a series so I have no clue how long this series is gonna be but I hope you enjoy it. ❤️

Summary: After a night of fun, Y/n and Diego have a talk about what they want to be.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, drugs. Angst. Luther being a dick (not a warning but still had to add)

Word Count: 3005, holy shit I went offfff on this bitch so enjoy.

I noticed Luther standing in the shadows of the living room as Klaus continued asking Diego and I millions of questions about the sex, like who initiated, did any of us cum, etc. "Y/n definitely initiated. She was eye-fucking Diego the whole time while she first came back here." I grabbed the decorative pillow from beside me and threw it at Five, who let out a chuckle and shrugged. "It's true, Y/n did start it. Didn't you, kitten?" I choked on the drink that Klaus handed me, making him and Diego laugh. "Anyway, moving onto a different topic that isn't about my sex life. Did Grace or anyone ever make dinner? I feel like I'm starving." Allison nodded, standing up from her spot, stopping at the bottom of stairs to wait for me. "You coming, Y/n?" I nodded in response as I stood up from my spot. Diego grabbed my hand and pulled in for a quick kiss before letting me go. "She sure as hell was last night, I bet." I looked over to Diego, who was laughing with the rest of them as I jogged up the stairs to avoid any further embarrassment. Allison and Grace were already sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in both their hands as they watched me walk up the stairs with my cheeks flushed a bright red. "Y/n, I've taken the extra precaution, providing you and Diego with some condoms. They're next to the dinner Allison and I made for you that's sitting up on the counter. Allison let out a soft laugh as I made my way over to the counter, looking at the dinner that they had prepared for me. A grilled cheese sandwich that had been cut diagonally and a cup of tomato soup with a little bit of sour cream resting on the surface. A small note from Allison and Grace is left attached on the counter, reading 'Your first dinner back home had to be your favorite. Welcome home, Y/n, it's good to have you back.' Tears formed in my eyes at the thoughtful note that they left me as I grabbed my food, setting it on the table before hugging them. "Thank you two so much. I love you and appreciate what you did for me." They both smiled as I sat down, taking bites of my food as they talked amongst themselves. I heard someone clear their throat from behind me as I finished the last few bites of my food. I stood up to see Luther standing there as I grabbed my dishes and took them to the sink. Grace and Allison took that as their cue to leave so they both headed downstairs as I scrubbed at the dishes, avoiding Luther's piercing gaze. "Y/n, I wanted to apologize for the way I reacted earlier." I dropped the dishes in the sink, sighing as I turned around to face Luther. I grabbed a towel from nearby as I dried my hands, ignoring him calling my name. His hand reached for my shoulder, making me flinch as I saw the hurt fill his eyes. "I don't have anything to say to you, Luther. You don't know anything from what happened, all you care about is the fact that dad sent you to the fucking moon. The whole time you were gone, I was fucking locked away because I couldn't save the one person I loved the most. Do you know how hard that has been to deal with? Every night I have nightmares, thinking about that day. Thinking about how I couldn't save Ben and it fucking kills me. So please, stop acting like dad's actions have only affected you and look at what's happening around you." I threw the towel down on the table and walked past him. Before I could get too far, he grabbed my wrist tightly, my gaze meeting his. "You need to stop playing the martyr here, Y/n. How do we even know what you said is true? Knowing who you are, you were more than likely out scoring drugs with Klaus and whoring yourself off." I tried shaking his wrist off but his grip was too tight, tight enough to leave a bruise. "Luther, please let go. You're hurting me." I could tell anger was seething through him as he dropped my wrist, taking a seat at the table. "You can go now, Y/n." Tears filled my eyes as I shook my head, taking the seat next to him. "No, I need you to realize what happened. You're not the only victim here. I want to settle what happened between us because I'm not gonna be walking around here with you hating me for something I had no control over. I'm sorry for breaking your nose, that was wrong on my part." Luther let out a quiet laugh, which made me smile a bit. "You can throw a mean punch when you're angry. I wish things would've been better for you, I'm sorry that you had to deal with dad's bullshit." I shrugged as I stood up, making my way down the stairs. "Thanks for finally listening to me, Luther. I'm going to bed now." Before I could go downstairs, Luther threw me the pack of condoms that Grace had left, winking. "Don't forget those." I shook my head, letting out a laugh as I went downstairs, seeing the rest of the family sitting in their same positions. I bypassed the living room, going to straight to Diego's room and plopping down on his bed with a sigh. I threw his sweater off and grabbed one of his shirts from the floor and getting under the sheets. I heard a knock on the door, making me groan. "Come in." Diego stepped in quietly, closing the door behind him with a quiet slam. He took his shirt off, getting into the bed next to me as he looked on the nightstand where I threw the condoms. "Y/n, want to explain these?" I started laughing as I grabbed the note that Grace had left, showing him the back part. "Grace decided it was a good idea to leave us precautions." He shook his head and got up from where he was lying down, pulling me into his lap. "Maybe we should put them to good use?" I sighed, shaking my head. "Baby, I'm tired. I used all my energy today to punch the shit out of Luther and break his nose as a result of said punch-" Before I could continue, Diego pressed his lips to mine. "Shut up and let me kiss you, Y/n." I smiled into the kiss, nothing but happiness washing over me. "I love you, Diego." He smiled as he laid back down, patting the spot next to him as invite for me to cuddle with him. "I love you too. Now come cuddle." I laughed, knowing that Diego hated it when people knew he was a softie deep down. "Someone's a softie." He punched my shoulder lightly as I laid down, putting my head on his chest and looking up at him. Even in complete silence, I was still comfortable being around him. I was starting to fall in love with him and knowing Diego, he isn't the type of person to fall in love after what happened with Eudora. "Goodnight, y/n." Shortly after, I heard the sound of Diego's soft snores coming from his side as I lift the blanket off and tiptoe out of the room. I made my way down the hall quietly as I ran into Klaus right outside his room. "Couldn't stay away?" I let out a quiet giggle as I followed Klaus back into his room and joined him on his bed. "I can't sleep, Klaus. There's too many thoughts racing through my head right now." Klaus looked up at me, raising his brow in question. "Girl, you need to just relax. You have a man who's asleep in your guys's bed, who loves you. What more could you want?" I sighed, leaning against the wall as I shrugged. "I'm scared, Klaus. The last I heard from him before we all met up again, he told me that he wouldn't fall in love again because of Eudora. The worst thing is I already loved him, but now I'm starting to fall in love with him." Klaus's facial expression dropped as he nodded toward the dresser, where I'm assuming Ben was sitting. "Ben makes a good point, Y/n. Eudora was the first person he ever loved. He at one point really liked you but you liked Ben. I mean, I never really blamed you for liking Ben but you should've known that Diego liked you." My mouth dropped at the sudden information that Klaus had told me. "Okay. Well, I'm going back to my room to think about what was said and hopefully try to go to bed." He got up and hugged me tightly before letting me go. I closed the door to Klaus's room and my way back down to the room Diego and I share currently. I opened the door, sighing in relief as I saw Diego sleeping still as I snuck into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me as I made my way over to the toilet, all the built up anxiety from the day washing over me at once. Tears filled my eyes as I started to feel sick to my stomach so I carefully made my way over to the toilet. I heard the door open to reveal a sleepy Diego. "What are you doing, mi amor?" I looked up, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes before Diego saw me, but I failed to as he made his way over to me. "Nothing, my love." He let out a little laugh as he sat next to me on the floor, looking over at me. "Y/n, you're obviously doing something if you're crying on the floor of our bathroom at 4 am." More tears fell down from my face as he held his arms out, but I pushed past them and threw up in the toilet. Diego immediately got up from where he was and held my hair back as I puked some more before sitting down. "Shit, are you okay?" I nodded as he grabbed a rag, wiping my mouth off and making sure I didn't have any on me. "I'm fine, I've been really anxious all day and this is what happens when I get super anxious." He sighed as he grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the floor and pulling me into a hug. "Why didn't you tell me, baby? I could've helped you." I pushed away as I made my way into his room, dropping down on the bed as I watched him follow. "Diego, you can't help me with the reasons why I have anxiety." He sat next to me on the bed as I looked down at my hands, feeling him stare at me. "Why do you think I can't?" I sighed as I finally looked up at him. "You're one of the reasons, Diego." His face dropped as I could see the hurt fill in his eyes. "Oh.. I'm sorry. I'll go then." He got up to leave but I grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him back down to me. "Baby, no. That's not what I mean. I just..." I stopped before continuing as I thought back to what Klaus had said just a little bit ago. "You just what? Y/n, you know you can tell me anything, right?" I nodded as I fought the tears that were threatening to fall. "I know that your break up with Eudora was rough and I know how you said you wouldn't fall in love after that." He nodded, waiting for me to continue. There was a silence between us that felt deafening, blanketing the whole room before one of us spoke again. "Y/n... You can't ask me to be in love with you. You know how much she means to me." I let out a fake laugh as I shook my head at his response, even though what he said had really hurt inside. "That's not what I said, Diego. You know what, let's pretend this never happened so I can try to get some sleep." Diego let out a sigh of irritation as he leaned against the wall, flipping his knife up into the air and catching it. "What are you trying to say then, Y/n?" My head snapped up, my gaze locking with his momentarily before I looked back down at my hands. "I guess I'm saying that I'm in love with you, and I have been for awhile.." The blanket of silence washed over us again as neither of us said anything, the only sound that you could hear was the sound of Diego flipping his knife. Diego and I had been the closest out of all the other siblings, him being there for me the most after Ben had died. Over the years though as he grew up, our relationship had faded as he met Eudora. After he met her, he gave her all his attention and pushed me to the back of the burner, just like everyone else had. "What do you want me to say to that, Y/n? You know that I'll never fall in love again." He set his knife down on the nightstand as he joined me on the bed, kissing my cheek. "I know." I looked over at him, hurt starting to fill my heart as I shook of the feeling when I felt his lips kissing where he had left hickies from before. "So let's just keep what we have right now. Mind blowing sex and you can sleep in my room with me as long as you want." I let out a sigh, knowing that real life is always more difficult than what I dream. "Diego, we can't pretend like what I said didn't resonate in you." He shrugged before lying back down on the bed beside me, grabbing my face and pulling me in for a kiss. "I love you. You know I do, princess." I laid down, turning to face the wall instead of facing him. "Goodnight Diego." I felt him turn over as he started snoring again, falling asleep almost instantly. Diego had  just contradicted himself by telling me he loved, which ran my emotions up the fucking wall as I closed my eyes, drifting off into sleep. 

Many hours later, I woke up with my head on Diego's chest and his arms wrapped around me. I sighed contently even remembering what he had said last night, the feeling of me lying in his arms made me feel at home. I heard someone storm down the hallway as the door to his room flew open, revealing an angry Eudora. "Diego Hargeeves!" He woke up instantly, looking up at her as she stood with her fists clinched. "Patches, it's early as fuck. What are you even doing here?" She took one glance at me before laughing, which made my self esteem drop. "Diego, you need to come with me. We have your brother, Klaus, at the station again." He sighed as he grabbed his pants and threw them on along with his classic sweater. "I'll see you whenever I get back, Y/n." He kissed my cheek as he followed Eudora. I sighed, sitting in silence yet once again until Five showed up outside the door. "Hey, wanna grab coffee with me at Griddy's?" I nodded excitedly as I threw on a pair of shorts under the shirt of Diego's and followed Five down the hall. I stopped in my tracks as I saw Klaus and the rest of the family sitting in the living room. "Wait. I thought they arrested you?" Klaus laughed as he shook his head. "Why would they arrest me?" Five looked over at me as we both let out a laugh. "Eudora rudely woke us up like ten minutes ago by coming into our room and saying that you had gotten arrested again." Klaus laughed as he took a sip of his drink, shrugging before Five grabbed my hand and led me outside. "I say fuck Griddy's. Let's go to the station and see if we can catch Diego in the act." I let out a little laugh as we walked down the road together, casually stealing glances at each other. "I missed you, Five." He smiled as we kept walking, the sun glaring down in my eyes. "I missed you guys too, even Diego. Also since I'm on the topic of Diego, what's up between you and him. I shrugged as we came to the police station, stopping outside the front of the building. "Nothing is up between us, actually. We had sex, I told him that I was starting to fall in love with him and he said he could never love again." Five and I made our way up to the door as I remembered the countless times I had been arrested for possession of narcotics and for the selling of them. We both walked in, stopping at the front desk before looking around. "Neither Diego or Eudora in sight." The receptionist came back up to the front desk, looking at Five and then at me before gasping. "You're Y/n!" I raised an eyebrow as she dialed some numbers on her phone before hanging it up. "Uh, wait right here for a moment, please." I turned to Five who just shrugged as two officers came up to him and I, Eudora and Diego following behind. "Y/n, you're under arrest for the murder of Sir Reginald Hargreeves." Diego and Five both looked at me in shock as I looked over to Eudora, who was smirking.

[perlocutionary]

Riddle Me This - Void Stiles

Description: When realization strikes that Stiles might be struggling with a very old trickster, the pack wastes no time in trying to rescue their friend. But searching all over Beacon hills is pointless - when Void has Stiles hidden in a place far more sinister. Y/N, Scott and Lydia find themselves somewhere Y/N would never dream of taking them… Her mind.

Relationship: Void x Reader (Void Stiles is playing some fun mental games with Y/N) mentions of  Stiles x Reader 

Word count: 8507 (long huh? I couldn’t split this up, it’s my baby)

A/N: I want to mention this real quick. The story, the home, is based on a reoccuring nightmare of mine since I was like eight? It’s quite fascinating and writing about it made me understand said ightmare so much better. It was actually quite fun.

I have to thank my babes @itsbilescallmebiles and @redstringlovers for proofreading this for me and giving me their honest opinions. It’s been ages since I had a go at something like this and I was/am quite nervous. Thankfully, they calmed those fuckers! Anywho, I hope you like it. Feedback is appreciated :)

It had been forty-eight hours since anyone last saw Stiles. Scott had been with him, and when he didn’t pay attention for the slightest of moments, Stiles had disappeared. Panic struck throughout everyone’s bodies – how could Stiles, innocent, sarcastic Stiles, be the Nogitsune? Without hesitation, Noah Stilinski had put up a search party covering the whole of Beacon Hills, to no avail.

Every police officer available at the precinct had given their all, in hopes of finding the Sheriff’s son as quickly as possible. The problem was – no one knew where to look. For them, it seemed as if the Sheriff’s son had just disappeared – run away, you could say – as there was no indication of a kidnapping. We all knew better.

Behind closed curtains, Scott and the pack had started their own search – with clues that weren’t sharable with the authorities – but came up empty handed. I had been awake and about for almost forty-eight hours straight – I couldn’t let Scott go through this alone. But my body was weakened, and I felt defeated. Maybe, the Nogitsune, the trickster, outsmarted us, and we were facing the inevitable.

Scott had sent Allison and Lydia off for a good night’s rest – to the extent possible, of course – a few hours prior. Leaving the werewolves, and I, to roam the streets of Beacon Hills at nightfall. My form screamed to lay down and rest – even a five-minute stop would suffice – but I wouldn’t allow it. Stiles was fighting an internal battle with a fox – granting us no time to slack.

“I – Scott – Just a second. I can’t.” I moan, doubling over as my chin brushes against my knees. My heart was hammering so loudly I could hear the pulses resonating in my ears. My muscles screeched in agony – I felt like I could lose consciousness any minute.

I feel his hand brush along my shoulder blade, trailing my spine as his hot breath fans against my ear. “Y/N? Are you okay?” I wave him off, trying to catch my breath as I slowly, shakily lean back up to my full height. “I – I will be. Just a moment.”

A groan escapes Scott as his red-glowing eyes scan the area. After splitting up in groups of two, Scott and I were left together, pairing Isaac and Derek to investigate the other side of town. “We’re dead tired. This isn’t helping Stiles one bit – I mean, I’m not even sure if I picked up his scent or just smell Isaac all the time.”

Snorting, I shake my head, wrapping my arms around my shivering frame. I felt like I was getting hypothermia, my teeth clattering, muscles convulsing and mind going blank as the only thing I could focus on was this freezing cold that consumed me. When a sigh slips me, I see the little bubble of fog escape through my parted lips. We were running around in circles – there was a desperate need for a game plan. “I don’t want to say it, but – “

“Maybe we should get some shuteye. We’ll start searching again first thing in the morning.” He buzzes, shaking his head as he pushes my frame towards the sidewalk and off the empty street. My house is just a block away, but I can’t help let my fingers curl around Scott’s wrist and yank him back to me when he decides to part ways.

I need to hear him say it. I need him to mean his words – We cannot abandon Stiles. Although I doubt that Scott would ever do that to his best friend. “First thing in the morning?” Scott stops in his tracks, body whipping back toward me as a small, sad smile overtakes his usually happy-go-lucky demeanor. “I promise.”

Even though my body was crying out for my needed rest, my mind wouldn’t let me. I had raked my brain over and over again – thinking about everything we had learned about the Nogitsune. About how he operated, what his motives were. But to catch a trickster, you have to be one.

There had to be some way that we could save Stiles, but eradicate the Nogitsune. But before any action could be undertaken, we had to find Stiles. With a simple group text, he had gotten into contact after ten hours of disappearance, informing us that he was alright and not to search for him – but we all knew that wasn’t Stiles.

Trying to think of possible actions to undertake, trying my damn hardest to think of places we hadn’t yet searched – my body became heavier. Eventually, my eyes drifted closed and slumber overtook me.

“Y/N? Y/N!” I could hear Scott’s voice shouting my name, over and over, but my vision was pitch black. I couldn’t move my body, I couldn’t voice the words letting him know that I heard him – it seemed as if I had disconnected from my body and floated in nothingness. A scream leaves my lips, involuntarily, but the sound dies off as soon as it slips.

“Y/N!” Lydia is there too. “Come on, open your eyes.” She pleads, and I know she, in fact has heard my ear deafening scream. Her voice quavers as she speaks. I focus on my fingertips and when I feel them slightly wiggle, I take a deep breath. A gasp slips my lips as I jolt upright.

“What the fuck?” I mumble as I let my eyes snap around me, Lydia and Scott grabbing one arm each to haul me up onto my feet. “Oh god.” I whimper, my eyes widening drastically as I realize where we are. But why are they here? “No. God, no.” Mumbles leave my lips like a chant, my eyes shutting tightly as I hold my hands against my face, shrinking to the floor as realization struck me.

I hear Lydia whimper beside me as I continue to squeeze my eyes closed. Scott’s voice is the first to chime above the deafening thump in my head. “Where are we?” Lydia almost immediately chimes in. “What is this place?”

I reopen my eyes, glancing to my friends as I try to calm my erratic heart. We were standing on the middle of a bridge, asphalt as far as my eyes could reach. My feet take slow, tentative steps to the edge, my fingers curling around the frozen railing as I peer over. The water was still, black, only the shimmer seen through the moon light cascading on the ripples of water.

Lydia screams when a bat appears out of nowhere, hysterically fluttering between us before disappearing again, like it never was here. My head turns left, seeing nothing but the thick, white-clouded fog that hovers just above the asphalt. I could see maybe, two, three meters ahead of me, and the more I focused on the fog, the more I saw them. Shadows flittering through the fog, dancing around us, waiting for us to catch us off guard.

When a shiver rakes along my spine and I feel a panic attack rising, I snap my head to the right, my fingers still curled around the railing of the bridge. My fingers were an icy white, slowly drained of blood supply the longer I spasmodically clamped onto the iron bar.

“It should be right here…” I mumble, pushing myself off the railing and taking a few steps to my right, head cocked to the side as I try to take even, deep breaths. “What is?” “What do you mean, Y/N?” Both my friends’ voices chime through the silent area, the eeriness of it all definitely not escaping them.

It takes me eleven steps before it suddenly appears beyond the fog, towering above us, beckoning me to come. Inviting me to step foot into it once more. The house looks worse than it had ever – shattered windows, lights flickering at random moments and wails floating through the holes in the walls to screech into my ears. I squeeze my eyes closed, wincing as I stumble back.

I glance over the railing, into the yard of the house, seeing the seesaw slowly wobble in the wind, squeaking as it does so. The swing set is desolated, wooden poles chipped to the point it barely stays upright. The swing slowly dwindles back and forth. The once beige-colored sand has turned a dark red, reminding me of the horror that had taken place.

“Y/N, where are we?” Lydia demands again, retracting me out of my own mind spiral, my head snapped in the direction of my friends. When I open my mouth to reply, his voice booms through the eerily silence.

“You know where we are, don’t you Y/N?” Beyond the fog, on the other side of the bridge, is Stiles. But it’s not him. I step forward, grasping both Scott’s and Lydia’s wrist, yanking them backwards and behind me. If this was a trick of my mind, I knew what to expect. It was cunning of the Nogitsune to take his form.

A growl passes my lips, dropping my friends’ hands and stepping forward. “Why did you bring us here?” A sly smirk appears on his lips, his grin toothy. His eyes are dull, without the honey-twinkle Stiles seemed to possess. My body turns rigid when I hear Stiles’ wail in the distance, but I know where it’s from. My heart aches for the spastic male, my chest heaving up and down as I demandingly threaten Void. “Where is he?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just keeps grinning as he slowly threads closer, his fingers fiddling with each other. With every step he takes, his head cocks to a side, but his penetrating, deathly sick gaze, never leaves mine. I feel the lump arise in my throat, swallowing harshly as I try to talk myself down. I am dreaming. Scott is going to wake me up any minute to tell me it’s time to continue our search. “This isn’t real. You’re just void.”

Vociferate laughter escapes Void, his head thrown back – but he never stops walking towards us, slowly, tauntingly. “Oh, Y/N…” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyes set in a glare as he stops in his tracks, only three meters still separating us. I hear Scott growl beside me, his eyes shifting to their reddened color. I stop him, with a simple hand to his chest, my head slightly shaking.

“Your door was wide open. Caring for him made you weak. Letting your guard down was an invitation I couldn’t surpass.” Void shrugs his shoulders, his grin never wavering, eyes glued to mine. My breathing hitches in my throat, my hands clenching into fists at my side. Given, I had not taken care of my mental state with all that had recently happened in Beacon Hills – but I did not partake in the Sacrifice Allison, Scott and Stiles were involved in.

My jaw is set as I try my absolute best to not give Void what he wanted – despair. “So, this is a mind trick?” I growl, wanting nothing more than to pounce on him for taking advantage. But we didn’t know if it indeed was Stiles – or if Stiles was long gone by now.

Void hums, tapping his fingers together as he rolls his head along his shoulders, his neck loudly cracking. “Think of it as a game…” He starts walking around, trailing around us and I follow him, turning on my heel and pulling Lydia once more behind me. “… And if you lose, he dies.”

By now, Void stopped in his tracks, right in front of the old, dilapidated house. A bone-chilling chuckle leaves his lips and I can’t help but wonder if Stiles always portrayed these twinges of insanity – or if the Nogitsune was toying with my mind. “I would hurry up if I were you. You may know how to survive here, but Stiles doesn’t.” Void’s head cocks up, to the house, and with another dark, deep chuckle, he disappears into the fog. Another gasp slips my lips, my body turning rigid at the realization that the Nogitsune had indeed separated from Stiles – and Stiles was in there.

My eyes slowly drift closed, my breathing erratic. Scott and Lydia’s voices babble at the same time, but I don’t respond right away. “Y/N, what is this place?” I hum, turning to Lydia before Scott demands my attention. “What does he mean? Y/N? Survive? Where are we?”

“Scott…” I sigh, turning on my heel and rubbing my hands along my arms, the freezing cold chilling me to the bone. His eyes are wide in terror, his throat contracting when he swallows harshly. “Why does he look like Stiles? That isn’t Stiles.”

I sigh again, biting my lip as I let my gaze trail over the environment again. We had found ourselves in the middle of a horror film, and for a fact I knew this had never completely ended well. Another sigh. “Because this is not real. He can portray himself to be anything he want.”

Lydia’s hands grasp my arm, squeezing so harshly I think she might have drawn blood when she retracts after I wince. Her eyes are wide, snapping all over the place and I worry for her once we actually step foot into the house. “What do you mean it’s not real?”

I turn toward the house again, glaring at it and cursing myself for my carelessness. Void was right – we had to act fast. Stiles was in grave danger. “The door was ajar. Welcome to my own personal nightmare.”

“I think I saw this on the news – I – …” Lydia mumbles as I start my walk to the house, both of my friends trailing behind me. “I know. Stiles is in there.” I motion to the desolated place I used to call home, glancing at Scott before picking up the pace.

Scott huffs, his hand curling around my elbow and yanking me back, our chests almost colliding from the force behind his action. “How do you know that he’s in there?” His glare is set on me, before it shifts to the house. I take a deep breath, squeezing my eyes closed as I ramble my next words.

“I heard it. The pipes resonate in a certain way, his voice was enhanced by those pipes.” I yank my arm from his vice grip, throwing it up in the air. “Plus, do you see anything else around here?” Another angry huff slips him. “No…”

A smirk crawls its way onto my lips, my mental state already reacting to being dropped here after so many years. I had lived my own personal hell in this place, when my parents had decided to drop me off at my Aunt’s. I hadn’t seen them again, ever. When my Aunt passed away – something I never spoke of as to what had happened on Oak Street – I relocated, and found myself in Beacon Hills. Being here ripped open a set of freshly-healing wounds.

The smallest shakes of my head wipes the smirk right off my face, a concerned look overtaking me. “Of course not. Because this is my nightmare we’re in. The only important thing is that.” My finger points to the house again, my other, unoccupied hand roughly wiping along my face. There was no time for banter – we had to get Stiles out of there as soon as possible.

I throw Scott another pointed look, asking for his permission to continue my jog to the front door. When I receive nothing, I take this as my indication to head off. My breathing hitches once more when I’m standing in front of the tattered, red-stained door. It’s barely on his hinges, slowly swinging back and forth and knocking against the door frame in a loud, rhythmic manner.

As soon as my hand reaches for the knob, I halt my actions. I take a deep breath, hovering over the black-colored handle as I address my companions. “Now listen closely. Whatever you see or hear – it’s not real. Don’t let it get to you – or you’re stuck here.”

Lydia’s snap is accusing – but I don’t blame her. “Excuse me – what?” Instead of delaying the inevitable, I throw my entire body against the door and it creaks as it slams open. A gush of cold wind meets me, my hair blowing all around my face.

This house was nothing short of a prop in any horror movie ever made. The wall paper had a sickly yellow-striped color, bits and pieces scaling off their original place, showing the brick walls once hiding underneath. The mats underneath our feet were stained – and I wasn’t ready to find out what exactly made those stains.

Door after door erupted down the long hallway, that would eventually lead to two staircases: one up, and one to the basement. The basement stairs lead to a single, deadbolted steel door of at least three inches thick. I had never known what laid hidden behind its confines. But I had a feeling that’s where we would find Stiles. “If I had any idea how to escape – we wouldn’t be here in the first place. Please, be careful.”

“Where do we go?” As the words leave Scott’s lips, the door loudly slams behind us. A shriek leaves both Lydia and I’s lips, Scott jerking to the side from our loud noises. My heart beat is erratic, my chest heaving up and down as I lean against the wall, slowly sliding down.

My head motions to the darkened end of the hallway, the loom of it all drawing us in. “I don’t – I – The basement. But I have no idea how to get in there.” Lydia drops to her knees beside me, her frail hands shaking my quivering frame over and over again. If I had ever thought I had felt anxious, it would never compare to what I feel now. The bile rising in my throat constricts my breathing – and I am on the brink of passing out.

“Think, Y/N. We can do this.” Lydia’s voice is sharp, another rough shake pulling me out of my deteriorating thoughts. I hum, biting my lower lip harsh enough to draw blood – but not checking if I did so. I cringe when I hear his nails scratch against steel, his voice tauntingly chanting. “Tick, tock Y/N. Time’s running out.”

I raise to my feet, pushing my clenched fists against my ears as the scratching and dragging sound almost gets unbearable. He is in the basement. “My aunt used to hide the key. And because she would always forget, she would leave riddles for herself to solve.”

The scratching is abandoned and a loud, ticking sound resumes its place. Void is tapping his fingertips against the pipes, and he might as well continue the scratching. He trying to make me lose my mind. “She really did like riddles almost as much as I did, Y/N. Makes you think, no?” Void taunts, his voice echoing off the walls and sending another wave of despair through my chest.

“Stop!” I screech at the top of my lungs, my fist pounding against the wall as Void’s maniacal laughter resonates throughout the entirety of the house. “Downstairs.” I command our trio, setting for a run down the dimly light hallway into the dark abyss.

My feet resonate loudly through the spacious house as I take the stairs step by step, hands gliding along the walls as my speed picks up. I almost crash into the wall as the stairs take a ninety-degree turn, my shoulder clashing with the brick loudly before I resume my pace, Scott and Lydia hot on my heels.

Scott’s fingers intertwine with mine when we hear Stiles cries from behind the door. It causes goosebumps to erupt all over my skin, his voice portraying complete agony – like a prey trapped by its predator. “Stiles?”

“Stiles?! Stiles are you okay?” Scotts voice raises to unknown volumes, my body wincing away from him as he yells for his best friend – his brother. I hear the tapping again, but this time I can pinpoint its exact location. Right behind us.

As I spin around on my heel in a split second, I see Void’s silhouette on top of the stairs. His fingernails are rapping against the railing, his head cocked to the side. “Tick tock, Y/N.” Void’s voice chimes through the house again, a menacing chuckle leaving his lips after the words are spoken. He disappears around the corner and I seem to regain control over my extremities as I turn – His taunting only fuels me even more.

“Do you have your phones?” My hands are skimming along the door, but I don’t feel anything. There is no clue, no little note, no key anywhere within my reach. Panic strikes my core again as I take a step back, hearing both friends hum as they fumble their pockets for the rectangular devices. “Light the door up, please.”

The letters are bold, black and written in my Aunt’s perfect handwriting. My fingertips trace along the words, sending my mind in overdrive raking for an answer.

“I – what?” Scott mumbles, taking a step back from the steel door to overlook the words more critically. I squeeze my eyes closed forcefully, pushing my lips into a thin line as I rake my brain for an answer to my Aunt’s riddle.

I fingers curl into a fist as I pound the door once, with all force I possess in my tired frame. “For fucks sake – I always hated her stupid riddles. How will we ever solve this?” The flash lights on the phones click off and we’re left in the dimly lit basement. The only light comes from the ornamented lights scattered against the walls – half of the bulbs had exploded over time, leaving us in an ominous glow.

“Stiles is great with these things…” Another sigh slips me at Scott’s words. Stiles was, indeed, my go-to man whenever I had something I couldn’t figure out. This man was not only the epitome of sarcasm, but he was a fucking genius. Although he sort of never could admit it himself.

It’s when Lydia speaks, both Scott and I turn to her shell-struck. “A – planet?” “What?” I push myself off the door, trailing over to the redhead while wiping along my face, digging my fingertips into my eyes. I had no ounce of energy left.

Lydia mumbles, her eyes wide as she keeps her eyes trained on the bold black letters scattered on the door. “Yeah,” She begins, but trails off as she steps closer to the door, her pointer finger trailing along the lettering. “… Some planets have rings surrounding them.”

My mind goes a mile a minute until a gasp of realization leaves my lips. The clap of my hands resonates loudly through the house – it seems to echo off the walls. “There is a globe in my room.” “This place reminds me of Eichen house…” Scott mumbles as he pushes himself up the stairs, Lydia and I hot on his trail. “Oh, Scott…” I laugh loudly, yet no humor laces my tone, “… This place is far worse.”

The three of us are silent as we make our way through the house. I’m not sure if Scott and Lydia can hear them, but the murmurs resonating from the walls are enough to drive me insane. “Do you hear them too?” Lydia suddenly speaks as we thread down the hallway of the ground floor, her head snapping all over the place as she falls behind. My heart aches for the banshee. I guess she does hear it – maybe even more clearly.

“What exactly?” Scott turns, his ears wiggling as he tries to pick up what Lydia is hearing. But he won’t. Even though I had spent a good majority of my life here, whenever I was transported back here – albeit through my mind and dreams or my yearly visits, I never once could decipher words from the wails and murmurs surrounding me.

I stop in my tracks, turning around and let my fingers lace with Lydia’s. The small squeeze that follows is meant to reassure her, but I know it won’t help. “No, Lyds. This uh – this place holds a haunted memory. I think you’re the only one hearing them.”

Her pained expression never once falters. Her face is contorted into a grimace, lips tightly pressed together as she steps closer to me, her voice dropping into a whisper. “They’re so loud. Like screeching directly into my ear.” Lydia takes a deep breath, her eyelids fluttering closed as she straightens herself out, but cowers immediately when I hear the familiar voice. “Like this female voice from right over here.”

My own voice drops into a whisper, although I am not certain why. “I hear that one too.” Scott immediately sprints to the door, my own body stumbling after him as I let go of Lydia. I’m just in time to throw my arms around the broad chest of my friend, using all my strength to hold him from opening the lone door to our right.

“Y/N, let go.” Scotts struggles, his hand already resting on the doorknob and with one yank, he stumbles back with me until my back harshly hits the opposite wall. The light switch digs into my shoulder blade, bruising the skin there, but I don’t let go of the Alpha. “No, Scott. Don’t!”

He struggles within my grip, although he would be free of it within a split second if he desired to. “What – why? She needs our help!” Another sigh slips me. I let go of him, but I’m quick to fist the back of his shirt, in case he might try again. “Listen closely.”

The cries for help, the wailing that all three of us clearly heard, seem to fade. The voice of the woman then shifts into something out of this world, demoniacal laughter filling the room and slipping through the cracks in the door.

Scott tumbles backward, colliding with the wall as well, but his eyes never leave the closed door. The laughter only gets louder and louder, accompanied by loud, interval-like ticks against wood. Whenever I heard this same noise when I was little, my Aunt would tell me the story of previous owners, the Bellavues.

The story of miss Bellavue was simple. Miss Bellavue has married with the Lord of the County, many, many years ago, a foul man whom abused her on a daily basis. It drove miss Bellavue to the ends of her reach – insanity struck, and her husband was found dead, bled out, on their white satin sheets on a cold December morning. Their staff, after interviews with the authorities, claimed they heard a continuous ticking sound before a howl shut the whole mansion up until dawn trickled upon them. Some claimed it was her knife ticking against the wood as she contemplated murdering her husband.

All noises fade and I visibly relax against the wall, slumping as I try to catch my breath. “Y/N – what the fuck?”

I push myself off, continuing down the hall to our destination – my old bed room. It was the only room – that I personally was aware of – that didn’t have one death taken place. Although my Aunt could have been lying to make sure I would actually sleep. I motion my hand for them to follow me, and they reluctantly do so, as my voice chimes against the walls. “Every resident that ever resided here, has done something horrible. They all have their story to tell, and they’re more than willing to do so.”

“What the fuck is this place, Y/N? It feels like we’ve straight-up landed in a horror movie.” Scott starts off again – but I won’t give him the answer. Acknowledging only leads to more turmoil and I’m trying to get us out in one piece. Besides, I hadn’t even told Stiles about my past – and I honestly believed he should be first. “I told you, don’t let them get to you. If you do, you’re stuck here forever. That wasn’t an empty threat, Scott.”

Without a second glance back, or a second thought for that matter, I push the door to my former bedroom open. It looks just as I remember it did, albeit more aged. The same, bunny-filled duvet covered the small bed against the right wall. The same, dark-wooded desk, with one broken leg, rested right in front of us, an old chair, slid neatly underneath the free space. The room was practically empty, as I didn’t bring any of my belongings – I had none, anyway.

The globe I spoke of earlier sits on the desk, dust covering the circular object as I thread towards it. “Oh my – Lydia, Are you okay?” I hear Scott’s frantic voice behind me and I whip around before I can blow the dust away to examine the decoration, my gaze fiercely trained on the redhead.

“Yeah – Why? There aren’t any voices in here, it’s the best I’ve felt since we got here.” She sighs, a twinge of relief flooding her words, as her gaze catches mine. My hand raises to her face, brushing my fingertips against her jaw delicately as I speak. “You’re bleeding…”

“What?” Lydia’s eyes widen, and I turn her head with my pointer finger, seeing a small stream of blood trickle from her ears. “It isn’t safe for you here, Lyd.” I sigh, and without another word, I thread over to the globe, roughly wiping the dust away and checking the thing for anything.

I had once seen one of these globe with a secret compartment to store money. My nails scratch along the surface, in hopes of hitches against one of the cracks of said secret compartment, but after traveling the whole world with my fingernails, I’m becoming frustrated.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” I groan, dropping the globe back onto the desk and it rolls away and bumps against the mirror, resting against the wall. Lydia tucks her legs underneath her bum, shaking her head as she stares off into the distance. “We should’ve known. Earth doesn’t have rings.”

“Then, what could it be? It has to be in this house – it has to.” My voice shows the desperation I am feeling, my lower lip trembling as I pace around the room. I’m trying to rake my mind for an answer, but my thoughts are rudely interrupted when the soft ring flows through the air.

“What is that?”

“The telephone…” I furrow my eyebrows, pursing my lips together. “It’s in the room next door. Lydia, stay here.” I command her, more for her own safety than anything else, as I sprint out the door and next door. Scott is hot on my heels, and when he arrives in the tea room – don’t ask me why my Aunt thought it was necessary to have such things – I’m still staring at the buzzing telephone.

My fingers curl around it, slowly lifting it and bringing it to my ear. I don’t speak, as I have no idea what to say to the stranger calling me in my dream, but I hear his heavy breathing before he speaks.

“Stiles is hurt, Y/N. It’ll only get worse the longer you take – You used to love her riddles – why not solve mine?” Void’s voice fills my ear and I clutch the telephone handle in my hands, knuckles turning white at his taunting manners. He was trying to drive me insane – the worst part? It was working.

“Times’ running out Y/N. Maybe you don’t love Stiles as much as you claim.” Void chuckles again – but something has clicked in my mind. He cannot try to anger me by questioning my love for Stiles. It was ever present, and I didn’t doubt myself on that. Occasionally, I had questioned the reciprocated love I received from Stiles – but I couldn’t let the Nogitsune into my head right now. He was already here, and every sliver I gave him would be used against me.

“It’s the telephone.” I hum, dropping the handle back down and throwing the device upside down, my fingers prying at the small compartment. “What?” “Think about it, Scott.” I laugh humorlessly, taking my gaze off the telephone to smirk at my friend. “What has a ring, but no finger? The telephone.”

It takes me a few more moments before a click is heard and the small lid slides off, showing its contents to our prying gazes. The small paper is crumpled, clearly neatly folded many times, but its last user didn’t take care of such attentive actions. My fingers pry for its edges, slowly dragging the piece of paper to its original size. The piece of paper flutters to the desk, my hands rubbing over it to smooth out its crinkles. The old type-writer font has faded against the yellowed paper.

Scott dwindles over my shoulder as he tries to read the note. “What does it say?” He takes a step back, his fingernails scratching along his crooked jaw. “Uh – what?”

A growl leaves my lips, my hand balling into a fist and crumpling the paper within it. Back in the day, my Aunt would continuously ask me riddles to solve – and there weren’t many on my repertoire that I actually had solved. I wasn’t good at this, and I desperately needed Stiles and his wit to come and rescue us. “Why couldn’t she be into little rhymes – instead of these monstrosities.”

The tsk-ing noise throws me off guard, but when I turn around, I’m once again, petrified to see him so close to me – and I hadn’t even seen or heard him. The shadows enhance Stiles’ natural features, but there was no denying that he looked sickly-pale. The rings underneath his eyes showed just how much he was deteriorating and my heart ached as I thought about the real Stiles.

“I’m not very pleased with you insulting my favorite occupation, Y/N. That’s not very respectful.”

“I will find tremendous joy in annihilating you as soon as I get the chance.”

“I’m a thousand years old, Y/N. Stiles cannot be saved. You’re not very cognizant, Y/N. Maybe you should look that up.”

Look that up. The only place where – My eyes rake over the room, until they land on the side table next to the lone Chesterfield Void had occupied, a book tossed open onto a random page. “The dictionary.” As my head snaps up to smirk – or glare, whatever works – at Void, he is gone.

“He just seemed to – vanish.” Scott mumbles, his hand curling around my elbow as he pulls me from the small room. “Where to?” It seems to get darker, more portentous, when we reach another riddle. The lights flicker, obstructing our vision – and, coincidentally, making me see things. The longer I stare to the end of the hallway, to the stairs leading down, the more I swear there is something there. “The study, and my Uncle’s bureau, is on the ground floor. That’s our best luck.”

As Lydia raises to our feet to follow Scott and I, I halt her with my outstretched hand. “Lydia, maybe you should stay here.” Her eyes widen in utter shock, her hands start to shake as she falters back. “You’re going to leave me alone?”

A sigh slips me. Lydia wasn’t hearing any of the voices here, but I knew they’d come back at her full force as soon as she’d set foot outside the door. “I know this is the safest place for you.” A nod affirms my thoughts, and I nod my head in return before sauntering over to Scott lingering in the doorway.

When we pass through the hall, a light bulb right next to my head snaps, sending glass shards flying all around us. I clamp myself onto Scott’s arm, my breathing heavy and heart hammering against my ribcage. “This feels so real. I could swear it was a dream – but I’m not certain anymore.” I mumble as we descend the stairs, my body still pressed against Scott’s.

“That’s because I believe this isn’t a dream, Y/N. It’s very, very real.” Scott sounds as terrified as I feel, and his hand grasps mine when we reach the bottom of the stairs. “There’s one thing I can’t seem to grasp though…” I start off, leading us to the large double doors that lead into my Uncle’s office – the study.

“Why is Void helping us?” Scott voices my thoughts for me, and a shiver rakes down my spine when I release his hand to push the double doors open. “Yes. But, I don’t know. Perhaps – perhaps he’s not entirely Void.”

Instead of waiting for Scott to answer me, I do a three hundred sixty degree turn as I let my eyes rake over the countless of tattered books adorning the walls. Once, a long time ago, I vowed to myself to read every single book on these shelves. I quickly subsided that thought once I realized what was in these books. “Let’s find the dictionary. I’m sure it’s in there.”

“It’s right over here.” Scott states as he jogs up to the largest wall littered with books, stretching his entire body to grasp the thick, leather-bound book between his fingers. He opens the cover, frowning when nothing is there.

He roughly grabs the two cover pages, grasping them in both hands as he violently shakes the book, in hopes of a slip of paper falling out. He throws the book onto the desk in front of us, loudly huffing while throwing his arms up. “That’s not it! We’re wasting time here.”

A small chuckle slips me as I push Scott aside, slowly threading over to the desk and flicking the book to the last page. “The most important parts of a book are at the end, Scott.”

“I feel dumber and dumber with every riddle we come across.” Scott laughs nervously, scratching the top of his head absentmindedly as our gazes meet. If this were anything else, I would’ve agreed with the tan male without a second guess.

“I know this one. It’s a clock – My Aunt actually asked me this one once – it took me years to figure it out.” I grin, crossing my arms over my chest as I witness the smile crawl back onto the Alpha’s lips. It falters mere moments after though, his head snapping to gaze over the room, watching all clocks in this room alone.

“A clock? I have seen at least a dozen around this place. It’ll take forever. How do we know which one?” My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth at Scott’s words, my feet already taking me out of the room to head to our next stop. “I know. There was only one I could never touch.”

Scott’s feet move on their own accord as he already pursues me, our eyes still locked as we resume our conversation. “And where is it?” I rub along my upper arms as a terrifying chill spreads throughout my body, the shiver visible to the naked eye. I glance sideways and I see the flicker of a shadow disappear around the corner. “In the living room, on the mantel place. The ornament of the room.”

“Scott? Y/N?” Stiles’ voice echoes through the cramped office. My eyes snap around, Scott and I the only one present and Void nowhere to be seen – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be here. “Stiles?!” Scott yells, frantically turning on his heel, dizzying himself by spinning in such rapid circles.

“Scott!” Stiles’ voice sounds again. This time it is clear where it’s coming from. The vents. “Oh my god – Stiles! Are you alright?” I shriek, running up to the small vent above the book case and pressing my fingers through the small slits.

His voice sounds strained, pained, and my heart aches when I hear his voice again. “Y/N! Ple – please help me.” My fingers yank on the vent, but it doesn’t budge. The reality of Void’s words now echoing through my head like an unwanted chant. My own voice is a mere whisper as I speak. “Babe, are you okay?”

Stiles coughs loudly, the rumbling in his chest carried through and amplified by the vent shafts. “I – I don’t know. I think I – I’m hurt. Please, Y/N, Scott, find me.” Scott’s face contorts into one of pure agony, and I’m sure I depict the same emotion. My fingernails dig into Scott’s biceps, the male wincing from the force.

“Hang in there, we’ll get you out!” Scott growls, his fist busting against the chipped wall as if it would help Stiles. I don’t know what to say to him to make it more bearable being in the dark basement, so my words are as Void as the one haunting us. “Please Stiles, just a little while longer. You can do it.”

It’s quiet for an awful long time before Stiles’ voice is heard again, small and barely-there. “I think I’m bleeding. Please hurry.”

Scott’s flat hand smacks me against the shoulder, gathering my attention away from the vent. “Come on Y/N, let’s go.” We break out into a run, setting off on the same floor to the large doors on the other side of the house, which would lead us into the living room.

The hallway seems never-ending. With each step I take, it seems as if another meter is added to the carpet underneath my feet and I abruptly stop when I see the shadow again on the other side of the hall, tall and menacing – but seeming so far away.

Void’s laughter is heard once again, bouncing off the walls until it hits us full force. The vile chuckle makes sure all my body is covered in goosebumps. “What the –“ Scott growls, claws showing, teeth bared at the phantasm of his best friend.

“Come on.” I hiss, pointing to the ajar kitchen door and I bolt through it, the hinges squeaking under the force applied to them. Being away from the never-ending hallway seemed to destroy the illusion, and with a few large steps through the kitchen, we’re standing in the living room.

“Over there!” I exclaim, running over to the fire place and grabbing the small clock in my hands, shaking it forcefully in hopes of hearing something jingling inside. The wind-up key clatters to the floor loudly as my fingers prod at the glass covering the hands, ripping the thing apart in search for anything.

“Y/N, calm down.” Scott stills my shaking hands with his, taking it from my hands as he turns the small clock over, opening the back – meant for batteries, and peers inside. “There’s nothing here.”

I stammer my words, but they falter before I can finish my sentence. I felt betrayed – my Aunt liked her games, but not to this extent. “She wouldn’t hide it in just a random clock – she wouldn’t. I swear.”

I hide my face in my hands, my nails digging into my forehead as I groan loudly. I was out of ideas – if we had to check every clock in this house, we would never be in time to save Stiles. We would all be trapped here – forever.

“But are we solving her riddles, or Void’s?” Scott murmurs, casting his head to the floor in complete defeat. I couldn’t let my hope falter like this – because if Scott was losing his, we would be doomed. We can do this – we’ve gone through so much together. We can survive and defeat the fox.

I rake my mind for another solution. “Maybe it needs to be winded for something to appear.” My eyes cast to the floor, where the wind-up key had ended up in my frantic search for another riddle. It takes me a few moments to localize it, but when I do… “Wait – “

I fall down onto my knees, grasping the small key in my hands. It wasn’t just a random key to wind up an old clock – it was the key. “This is it! Scott! It’s the key!”

“Oh my god!” Scott shrieks loudly as he pulls me onto my feet, both of us scrambling out of the living room and racing downstairs to the basement. I try to catch my breath as soon as we reach the large steel door, my hands fumbling to get the key in the designated slot.

The loud click resonates through the narrow hallway and I yank the circular handle to all my might, coming up empty-handed. Scott appears behind me, and with both our force the door slams open loudly. “Stiles?! Stiles? Where are you?”

I’m frantically searching for him, but it’s to no avail in the dark. I hum in satisfaction when Scott’s cell phone light illuminates our path – making me notice the small shadow in the corner of the room. “Stiles!” I fall onto my knees, my hands running over his shivering side until they stop at his leg. It’s trapped within the steel claws of a bear trap – but why would that thing even be here?

“Are you okay?” I shake him, his eyes slowly opening as he bolts upright in terror. “You’re here. You found me.” Stiles whispers, his eyes watering as he throws his arms around my neck, quivering against my frame. “What happened?”

Stiles cringes as he tries to move, a yelp leaving his lips as he clutches his bloody leg in agony. “I can’t remember. I only knew I woke up here. It looks like what you told me about. You know, about – “

“I know. That’s because we’re here.” I immediately cut him off, shaking my head as I purse my lips. Scott tries to pry open the bear trap, only causing another agonizing yelp to leave Stiles’ lips. Our attention is diverted elsewhere when the loud ticking begins again, nails tapping against the steel pipes running throughout the basement.

“Did you really think I’d just let you walk out of here? Then you’re wrong, Stiles. We’re going to kill them. Cornering them in their own terrors was a good idea, Stiles. I should give you some credit.” The Nogitsune appears from behind the corner – not Stiles, not his Void version, but the original Nogitsune. The bandages covering his face are even more rattled than I remember, blooded and barely covering the burnt skin underneath.

He grins at us, sharpened, blackened teeth on full show. “Sending them here, Stiles, I have never been more nourished. The angst that I derived from them – Marvelous.” Stiles growls at the Nogitsune’s words, pulling my body closer to his by my thigh, his fingertips digging into my firm flesh.

“Maybe we should just rip them to shreds.” The Nogitsune grins wickedly before instantly charging at us. I squeeze Stiles closer to my chest as I cringe, my eyes slipping closed and my mouth opening in an ear-deafening scream.

A gasp leaves my lips as I bolt upright, my mind not immediately recognizing my surroundings – or the fact that there were multiple bodies scattered across the room. “Oh my god. Stiles!” I whisper, turning to the lanky frame lying next to me on my bed, shaking his shoulders with all my might.

He gasps and bolt upright like I had done mere moments prior, his eyes widened in fear and shock before they land on me. A sigh slips him and his arms curl around my neck to haul me into his chest, his rapid heartbeat pulsating against my throat. “Are you alright? Your leg?” I mumble to a frantic Stiles, my hands cupping his jaw as I trail over every freckle on his face, checking his leg to see if there was any residual blood – there was none.

“Thank you.” He emphasizes before pressing his lips firmly against mine, my breathing hitching in my throat at his action. Before my mind has even caught up to what has happened, Stiles breaks our seal, squeezing my smaller frame back against his.

As I break from his hug, I look over the edge of the bed, seeing Scott and Lydia groaning on the floor, seeming to awaken from a slumber. “Are you guys alright?” “I’ve felt better.” Scott complains, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head soothingly, Lydia pressing her fists into her eyes.

”I thought we were going to die.” I whine, dropping back down onto my mattress as Stiles’ hand immediately finds mine, squeezing it reassuringly – although I’m not sure if I were to assure him or the other way around, the man was shaking.

“What happened there though? The Nogitsune had us right where he wanted us. Why would he even help us?” Scott questions, and when the words leave his lips, he raises a million questions in my own mind. Nothing made sense – us showing up there, Void taunting us at every chance he got – but he still aided us in saving Stiles.

“He didn’t help you guys. I did.” Stiles breaks my train of thought, my head snapping to his shivering frame as he rubs his large hands along his arms in hopes of waking him up. “What?” As I wait for Stiles to reply, I push his body down against the mattress and cover his quivering frame with my thick duvet. “Did you get my messages?” he sighs, his eyes slowly slipping closed as he relaxes into my bed.

My voice is a mere whisper. “What messages?” Stiles mumbles his reply, but doesn’t reopen his eyes. “The riddles.” My eyes widen as I snap my eyes to the two friends still sitting on the floor at the edge of my bed, both staring at our interaction in curiosity. Stiles finds my hand again, intertwining our fingers as he squeezes so tightly he cuts off my blood circulation, but I don’t speak of it. “That was you?”

Stiles snuggles further away, his voice becoming softer and softer as he drifts off into a slumber. “I found a way to get into the Nogitsune’s head, just as he does with mine. Wasn’t strong enough to hold it off for long, though.”

I wait a few moments, until a soft snore leaves the brunette’s lips. My lips gently press against the corner of his mouth before I slowly back away from him, our intertwined hands disconnecting. His body shifts, following me as he tries to grasp my hand in his again. “I’ll be here, Stiles. Sleep.”

A loud huff passes me as I jump out of bed, tossing on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt before sliding into my sneakers, seeing the others slowly scramble upright. “What do we do now?” Lydia questions in a hushed tone, brushing the gathered dust off her dress before her eyes find mine. “Call Sheriff Stilinski. Tell him we found his son, and things might get complicated.”

Forever:@ssweet-empowerment​ @fuckwhateverfuck​ @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname​ @behind-my-hazeleyes27​ @itsbilescallmebiles

[askaphmaine]

“With that, that’s the end of the meeting. I hope everyone will be prepared for next time. We have a lot more to talk about.” With that statement from D.C., another long capital meeting was over. Monty groaned, shoving his ‘paperwork’ and ‘notes’ into his bag. Most of the papers were simply scribbled on, so he would appear as if he cared. A couple had drawings, simple pencil sketches of what had been happening, D.C. yelling at everyone to shut up, Concord making and throwing paper airplanes, Augusta pointedly avoiding everyone by hiding under the table, anything interesting.

“Oh, Montpelier~!”

‘Ah, shit.’ Just the person he didn’t want to see. He liked Los Angeles, he really did. She was stunning, with dark golden hair curling around her shoulders and deep blue eyes, not unlike a lake or the ocean. The problem was her flirting. She seemed to enjoy his discomfort, taking every opportunity to jump on him, occasionally even kissing his cheek. While some may have enjoyed the attention, for someone used to four wheeling and mudding, it was overkill to an extreme. The worst part, though, was her comments.

“You know, you’d look so much nicer in a suit! Or anything out of that disgusting plaid. You should let me take you shopping!” Like that one. He couldn’t understand how she thought those kind of comments were okay. He liked his shirt, it had been a gift from his brother. Sure, it was a bit worn but it fit fine and was warm. And he would never wear a suit. Never. “U-um, Montpeli-?”

Maybe storming off wasn’t his best idea. Maybe flipping L.A. the bird wasn’t either. Regardless, Monty didn’t stick around to see the aftermath of his actions. He had soda to drink and cars to work on. He didn’t have time to deal with western drama. Sadly, it seemed to be finding its way to him.

“Okay, I get it. She pissed you off. But you and I both know she didn’t mean it like that, asshole. Now I’m getting dragged into your lovers-spat.” Concord hissed, glaring at the other capital. Montpelier stayed under the truck, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not a damn lovers-spat. Just toss me my fucking wrench and shut it, dude. She’s old enough to deal with the consequences.” A dull thud hit the area to the left of Monty’s head. “Thank you.” A sigh followed.

“Alright, listen. I understand she gets on your nerves. I really do. But you literally made her cry. Maybe you should explain what pissed you off so much. It might make things-” Loud clanging interrupted Concord’s nagging. Monty slid out from his work.

“Explain? EXPLAIN? YOU DON’T THINK I’VE TRIED? SHE LITERALLY IGNORES ME.”

“Dude, stop yellin-”

“NO! SHE ACTS ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY JUST BECAUSE SHE’S BASICALLY RICH AND THINKS SHE CAN WALTZ INTO MY LIFE AND COMMAND ME TO CHANGE? SHE DOESN’T WANT ME, SHE WANTS A LITTLE BOY TOY SHE CAN ABANDON ONCE SHE GETS BORED.”

“You’re crying.”

“Fuck.” A soft sob. “Off.”

“Yeah, no can do. Like it or not, you’re part of Northern New England. You’re stuck with me.” Concord wrapped an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “We’re family, like it or not. I know she doesn’t listen. But here’s my plan, okay? Trust me, it’s a doozy.”

::A couple days later::

Silence. Never had L.A. felt more uncomfortable. Monty was acting odd, showing no emotion. After what had happened, she had begun to think he was avoiding her before she got a text asking for them to meet up. She wasn’t expecting an apology from him at all but she also certainly wasn’t expecting him to be emotionless and cold.

“You need to stop.” Monotone. A small shiver went up her spine. She only ever heard stories about the people who fit this description, the ‘Mainers’ as they were called. They were only a state away from him, though...

“Stop...what?” She winced at how small she sounded. She was one of the largest cities in America!

“Acting like a lovesick idiot. Grabbing me. Kissing my cheeks. The flirting and the attempts to command me need to stop.” Com…mand? She could understand the ‘lovesick’ part but when had she ever tried to… Oh. Slowly everything clicked. Her comments on his clothing and his pastimes. He felt like she was trying to control him.

“I’m...sorry. I never meant...Nevermind. I’ll stop. I swear on everything I own, I’ll stop.”

::Later::

“Connor, you’re a genius. How did you know acting like those three would work?”

“I’ve spent enough time with the Mainers to know it’s an act and how they manage to do it. All it takes is some practice. I am glad to hear that it worked!”

“Yeah, she promised on everything she owns that she’d stop. I don’t think I’ve been this relieved in ages!” Monty’s grin widened. “It’s like a weight has been lifted!”

“I’m glad for you. I really am. Now, where were we on the truck?”

::Elsewhere::

“Um, hey, Izzy? Can we, like, talk?” Braids swayed slightly as the capital of California glanced up.

“Sure, Liz. How did the talk with Montpelier go?”

“See, that’s the problem.”

“…I see. Well tell me all about it.”

“For starters, you know the stories of the Maine Trio Allison will tell us?” A nod. “Well, that’s how he was acting. Cold, emotionless, distant, you name it. He fit the tale perfectly.” Sacramento gasped. Montpelier had never acted like that before. “Exactly. But that’s not the real problem. He thought I was being…controlling. I didn’t mean to be but you know. I guess I came across as someone trying to change him and he didn’t take it well. Problem is, I have no idea how else to talk to him? But then I had an idea!”

“Oh no. Lizzy, please tell me you’re not thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Please?”

::Another time skip because I am the worst::

Normally, Monty was left alone outside of meetings and his fellow New Englanders. He had woken up as normal, ate breakfast, the entire works, all without interruption, even from his older brother. His pajamas, a t-shirt and plaid sleep pants, got to stay on for once. Normally he had to be ready for anything with Liam and that included being dressed and ready for a hike.

Then he heard the doorbell. No one, not even his ‘family’ visited this early. They all had things to do and they all understood that the Vermont Mounties did not like dealing with anyone  besides each other before noon. A glance at the stove clock told him it was only 8 am, four hours before the barrier was lifted. There were only three options. One was that Liam got locked out and was either drunk or hungover. The second was an emergency. Third, some flatlander was annoying him. Monty didn’t even want to think it was the third.

The world loved proving him wrong. Apparently, either karma or fate hated him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he took in the sight before him. L.A. in a ponytail was cute, sure. But the muddy jean cut-off shorts, torn plaid-like shirt, and baseball cap 3 sizes too big really didn’t suit her. He didn’t even have the energy to produce the ‘Mainer’ personality. Hell, he didn’t even have the energy to listen as she tried speaking about trucks. Something about…mud driving? He held the bridge of his nose, leaning on the doorframe.

“L.A. stop. It’s 8 in the morning.” Silence. “I’m too tired for this whole ‘interaction’ thing and would really prefer to just eat my breakfast in peace.”

“Oh…sorry. I guess I must be annoying, huh.” He felt a sigh escape. She sounded so sad. Why did she have to act like this? As cute as it was, she looked incredibly awkward, tugging on the odd clothing.

“Listen, no one, and I mean no one, is allowed to visit Vermont and I until 12pm.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“If you annoy me, I’m kicking you out. No second chances.” A soft ‘huh?’ floated to his ears. “Look, you’re lucky it’s fall. It may not get cold in your part of the country but here? You’ll freeze in that. I also doubt you’ve eaten. Not to mention you look ready to burn that outfit. Just get inside, you can borrow some of my clothes. They may be big, but at least they’re clean. And actually cover you.” He shoved himself up, not even glancing behind him to see if she was following. The door closed, though he didn’t hear any footsteps. “Just take your shoes off and follow me.”

Silently, she listened, much to his shock. He had to admit, he was expecting resistance. It didn’t really hit him what was happening until he was standing in his room, looking for clothes. “You’ll have to wear some sweatpants, nothing else I own will fit you. Any complaints?” He questioned, glancing at her. A shake of the head. “Good. Here, try these.” With that, he tossed her a pair of gray sweats, a black shirt, and a plaid button up. “You’ll want to wear all of it. It’s cold.” Monty didn’t hang around, vanishing downstairs to the kitchen. It took a couple of minutes for L.A. to reappear, keeping her head down. Monty was a bit pleased she kept the ponytail.

“I’m sorry for showing up and making you feel like you had to help me.” He felt himself groan.

“Listen, just sit. This batch will be done soon. And trust me, someone showing up at my door first thing in the morning does not make me want to help them.” He could hear the sharp intake. “Alright, I don’t have the energy for the ‘Maine’ thing, so just listen. I get you’re trying to connect with me for whatever reason. I’m not that dumb. While you may have gone about it in an awful way-“

“I should’ve listened to Izzy…” He paused at the whisper.

“I have no clue who ‘Izzy’ is but yeah. You really should’ve. Not that it was offensive. Just obnoxious. Do you remember what my point was during our meeting?”

“You felt like I was trying to control you. I promised I’d stop but here I am…”

“Yea- What?” Confused, Monty turned, setting a plate in front of the blonde.

“Was I…wrong?”

“Uh, yeah? I never said anything about control. I said you were- oh.” Silence. Slowly, he sat across from her, staring at his plate. Placing his elbows on either side, he dropped his face into his hands. Here he thought it was over. “I didn’t mean you were controlling me. Trust me, Vermont tries to all the time.”

“Then what was I doing?” The almost begging tone nearly got him to lift his head. Nearly.

“You were trying to change me. Even if you didn’t mean to, you were. I’m not a suit and tie kind of person. I’m not into fashion, I actually couldn’t care less. Vermont and I are outdoorsy guys who wear a lot of plaid. We go mudding- wait, is that what you meant by mud driving?” He looked up, shaking his head. He pressed him palms into his cheeks. “Never mind. We go mudding, hiking, and hunting. I fix cars and trucks for fun. I’m not someone like what you’re used to, L.A.” For the first time, he looked her right in the eyes. “I’m not a toy you can dress up. I’m not interested.”

“Can…Can I speak?”

“Sure.”

“I never…I never meant to come across like that. My comments, though out of line, were meant to mean that you’d look great in one of those outfits. I never thought of forcing you to wear any. I never…” With a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Monty blinked. He hadn’t realized he had been staring. “I never saw you as some sort of ‘toy’. In fact, you remind me of Izzy and Nathan- I mean, Sacramento and Northern California. I guess I got caught up thinking you’d react to the comments the same way they do. But they grew up with SoCal and I. They’re used to it and know we don’t really mean it. I’m very sorry for coming across that way.” She slowly opened her eyes, keeping her head down. For a couple of minutes, the two of them sat there, L.A. picking at the pancakes and Monty watching her.

“Alright. And the lovesick attitude? I doubt you treat your family that way.” If anyone asked, both would swear to the grave that L.A. didn’t blush. L.A. to keep her image. Monty to keep the ability to see it to himself. The stuttering only helped further the redness. “I see. Well, it should be noted that I hated the outfit you wore here.”

“I, uh, kinda figured…”

“Good, so let me make one think clear. Changing someone for someone else is stupid. And that ‘someone’ includes yourself. So, we both know you know nothing about trucks, mudding, ect. What do you enjoy? Besides fashion, I mean.”

“Well, I can, like, surf. Even in heels.”

“See, now we’re getting somewhere. That’s an actually interesting fact. What about movie-“

“I am literally Hollywood. I know all the easter eggs, the classics, everything.” She scooted closer, a gleam in her eyes. Monty smirked.

“Oh? Well, then we have something in common. I just so happen to have a movie collection. Shall we pick through it?”

“You. Are. On.” Lizzy practically launched herself from the chair, food all but forgotten. Monty chuckled, grabbing both plates. Might as well eat as they watch, right? “Oh, and Montpeli-“

“Just call me Monty.”

“Alright, Monty. I just wanted to tell you to call me Lizzy.”

“Deal.”

“Dude, you have BeetleJuice? Guess what we’re watching first!”

“I mean, it was filmed here in Vermont. We have a system. ‘Filmed in A New England State’, ‘Takes Place in a New England State’, and ‘Other’. 13 different groups, some overlap. Maine’s are best viewed around Halloween.”

“Oh, please. Carrie is a classic and is perfect for viewing year round. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.”

Hours later, Liam staggered up the steps to his home. He wasn’t drunk but he was tired. The trip to Mass left him exhausted. Dealing with Mass left him exhausted. Opening the door, he faintly heard the sounds of a movie. It sounded like the selection screen, though he had to doubt this. There was no way Monty would just leave a movie running, not even for food. Slowly, he crept towards the entrance to the shared living room. Sneaking a glance in, he saw a lump under a blanket, larger than his brother would be. Carefully moving closer, he took note of all the food bowls scattered around. Once he reached the sofa, he saw something he knew he’d hold over Monty for a while. Curled up, fast asleep, was Monty and a girl. But not any girl, oh no. Los Angeles herself was curled up on his chest, slumbering peacefully. ‘My little brother, off falling in love with a westerner.’ Liam thought, leaning over to pull the blanket up further. It was going to be a cold night. A smile found its way onto Liam’s lips as he glanced down at the two. Tugging at Monty’s was a soft smile of his own.

[acollectionofsterek]

What I read the other week

Since I keep falling behind with this. But as usual some re-reads, new for me and just Sterek in general! Go read and kudos and comment on things you enjoy!

2/1/17-8/1/17

The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off by mikkimouse | Teen | Summary: This was the seventh year Derek was competing in the gingerbread house competition at the Beacon Hills Holiday Festival, and he'd taken first place for three of those years. The other three years, Stiles had won, each time with even more ridiculous rude gestures and lewd winks in Derek's direction.Derek was bound and determined to take first place this year, and put a halt to Stiles's current winning streak. 

Wood and Nails by rabbitxheart | Mature | Summary: ”The five stages of grief,” Stiles nods and sighs. They've both seen it, been through it. Heard them repeated by therapist after therapist. Stiles doesn't say anything, but they both know which one Derek's slipped into by now.***When things calm down in Beacon Hills, all the things Derek hasn't dealt with come back with a vengeance. Stiles does his best to help him. 

Grey Rainbow by LoveActually_rps | Mature | Summary: “Stiles?” Derek glanced at Stiles’ sleeping form. He didn’t even twitch. Derek continued. “If we…” his lips curved in a fond smile, fingers moving to smooth the creases of Stiles’ eyebrows, his voice coming as whisper. “... as in, you and me - If we get a chance someday… any day, to be together, y’know? I wouldn't mind you wooing me with flowers and all that cliched romantic shit. And you can even flirt with me. I approve.” He gazed at Stiles’ calm face for a long while before drifting off into quiet slumber with the sound of Stiles’ soft snoring in the background. [aka, after pinning for his best friend for four years, Derek learns his teenage crush is easy, but his life isn’t]

I Feel We're Close Enough by samann98 | Explicit | Summary: Derek's two friends share a look and even Boyd can’t muster up the strength to deal with his pathetic attempt at denial. “Come on now, Derek, seriously? We know about you and Stiles.”“Yeah, we know you two are fuck buddies,” Erica adds with a smirk, and Derek buries his head in his hands.“That’s not exactly the terminology I would use,” he murmurs, his whole face burning with embarrassment.“How else would you describe having sex with your best friend who has no clue you’re in love with him?” Boyd asks, actually sounding curious about his answer.Derek lifts his head, opens his mouth to reply, but only ends up making a few ridiculous noises that can’t pass for actual words. When Derek finally just throws his hands up in defeat, admitting, “Okay, fine, that’s exactly how you’d describe it,” Erica and Boyd shake their heads at him.Or the one in which Derek and Stiles are childhood friends, their freshman year of high school Derek makes the craziest suggestion ever, and four years later Stiles decides to take him up on it.

Talk Geeky to Me by stilesanderek (minxxx) | Explicit | Summary: Derek and Stiles are the most typical combo of nerd plus geek two teenage boys could be; and as stereotypical as they could ever get, they're each other's only friend. That usually doesn't bother Stiles much, Derek is the best best friend he could ever hope to have, but sometimes when he thinks about his fate of possibly not having his first kiss until college, he starts wishing he had a few more friends--or at least more people who were a bit more interested in him other than when they need to copy his notes.In a fit of curiosity about how kissing feels like, Stiles proposes Derek that they each be the other's first kiss--strictly platonic, of course. But afterwards, Stiles can't stop noticing how hot Derek is, can't stop thinking about kissing and touching him.ORThe five times Derek and Stiles "fake" kiss and one time they take things further.

Nothing But Trouble by charlesdk | Teen | Summary: Stiles and Scott, smugglers, come across an abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere. While looting the ship for goods and valuables, they find an unconscious crew member, who turns out to be a prince. With bounty hunters on their asses, they fly across the galaxy in search for the prince's lost family.

Hello it’s me by hales-republic 

Just to See You Again by MellytheHun | Explicit | Summary: A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

Professional Werewolf Witch by reptilianraven | Gen | Summary: "Are you going to buy anything else?" Professional Eyebrows says and Stiles would like to buy him. A cup of coffee. On a date.He just ends up pointing at the crate of whatever the fuck is behind Professional Eyebrows' head and says, "Uh, a box of that stuff."P.E. turns, glances at the crate, and raises an eyebrow at Stiles. "You want a box of charmed rattlesnake tail?" God, magic is so fucking weird. "Yeah." Stiles nods because he's making an ass out of himself. The hipster vampire browsing in the corner is not so subtly laughing at him. The sooner he leaves the better.- The one where Derek Hale is a Professional Werewolf Witch who owns a magic shop and Stiles fails at being smooth on a regular basis.

You spin me right round by sterek8night

Freckles, Moles and Teacup Stalls by baeberiibungh  | Gen | Summary: Stiles, Dean and Will share three adjoining stalls at the farmer’s market, where they sell their spouse made wares…

Hitman's conscience by lightsfillthesky | not rated | Summary: ‘I’m meant to kill you but I’ve been watching you for a week to work out how and you’re just too nice.’ AU

The Potential Fatality of Assuming by crossroadswrite | Gen | Summary: The hair, the buttons and the general happy and slightly tired disposition with which Derek came back from his secret exploits were as obvious as a glaring neon sign flashing the words JUST GOT LAID. A sign that Stiles ignored because he had a seven year plan god damn it. (OR: in which Stiles assumes things, gets accosted by the sister he never/always wanted, discovers he was horribly wrong, almost dies via Derek Hale with kids, can't handle all that collarbone action, uses tickling as the ultimate mode of revenge, and gets a boyfriend. In that order.)

Not So Super by charlesdk | Teen | Summary: Superman has a crush on Stiles. How does Stiles know? Well, there's the fact that he can't do his damn job without Superman swooping in and saving the day. And there's the fact that he sticks around and chats him up afterward too. Stiles is a cop and knows how to read signs, so it's not just him being full of himself.It's flattering, sure, but Superman is boring and Stiles has no interest in him. No, he much prefers the dorky reporter Derek Hale.

Tumblr fic by nevillelongbottom Summary: sterek prompt: derek/stiles sees the other in a gay bar with someone else hitting on them and derek/stiles looks uncomfortable so the other goes and pretends to be their boyfriend to save them

Like what you see? by cloudyskiesandcurlyfries | Not rated | Summary: here’s some fluff, bed sharing, fake/pretend relationships, friends to lovers, and derek’s thumbhole sweater all in 1.6k words

A Californian Werewolf in New York by dancinbutterfly, knight_tracer | Explicit | Summary: When Derek finally realizes that there's nothing left for him in Beacon Hills, he goes back to New York, gets a life, falls in love and finds his home. (A podfic/fanfic collaboration)

Love Me, Love You by littlestdeath | Explicit | Summary: Stiles is generally okay. Sometimes he hates himself, and it’s probably not healthy that he doesn’t talk about it, but what with all the nearly dying at least once a month, he figures his monthlies can take a back seat for now.And that works right up until the moment that Derek starts flirting with him.

Sugar, Spice, Everything Nice by AsagiStilinski | Teen | Summary: Three years ago Stiles Stilinski walked into Straight From Hale Bakery to get a birthday cake for his daughter Now, through a series of stupid events, he's sitting at a bake sale table next to his apparent longtime freind (who he's completely in love with) Derek Hale, trying to sell cookies to win his daughter's class a pizza party- and also to defeat the not-exactly-evil Atlanta Five Bakery that the Hales have some strange vicious rivalry with, who just so happens to be trying to win a pizza party for THEIR daughter too Also: Werewolves, levitating apple juice, and covert operations via Lydia Martin Seriously what in the hell is his life?

my bones may break by Marishna | Teen | Summary: “What are you doing here?” “What am I doing in the middle of the woods at night?” Derek shot back sarcastically. “What the hell is this, Stiles?”

Especially Derek, who still scares me by LoveActually_rps | Teen | (One of my absolute favorites!)  Summary: “The Hales are dangerous, Lydia,” Jackson butted in, coming to Stiles’ rescue. “Haven't you heard the rumors about how they eat newly turned weres on the night of the full moon?” “Wha-” Stiles let out a strangled noise and Jackson patted him in fake sympathy, suppressing his usual cocky smile. “Well, haven’t you heard the rumors about how they grow horns and a pointed tail and carry a pitchfork on other nights?” Allison countered, huffing out a soft laugh. “Those rumors are ridiculous,” “Can we please stop talking about the Hales?” Stiles pleaded, shivering and tired, rubbing the towel over his flat dripping hair. “...especially Derek, who still scares me,” he swallowed hard. [aka, even though Talia Hale’s first and foremost plan on moving to Beacon Hills was to “Clean up the Hale image”, Derek looked far too contented with his “Scaring the shit out of Stiles” plan. Just - he didn’t know Stiles was already of age and maybe transforming into something pretty badass any day]

It's Not My Lovestory by LoveActually_rps | Gen | Summary: When your soulmate’s first words to you were supposed to be etched on your wrist, a blank wrist was quite intriguing and an open invitation to be teased. Derek’s wrist was missing a soulband. Every single person in his acquaintance had a soulband, God! Even Greenberg had a soulband.

I'll Love You for a Thousand More Years by LoveActually_rps | Teen | Summary: “Reject me, Alpha,” Cora muttered, her voice low and trembling. She raised her head finally to meet Stiles’ stunned, confused gaze. “…please,” she added with steady but glassy eyes. [To stop recurring invasion threats from the Argent nation a few wolf nations decided to ally. Stiles Stilinski – the Alpha and the only heir of the Stilinski nation - was supposed to mate the Hale Omega – Cora Hale. But, things didn't quite go according to the plan]

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar | Explicit | Summary: It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that. Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone's a werewolf, and everyone's alive.)

I want you (no, I mean your art) by ElisAttack | Mature | Summary: "Scott, remember that new encaustic painting I sold last week?" "Yeah, why?" "Derek Hale's fucking a twink beside it." Or the one where Stiles is an artist whose artworks keep appearing in his favourite porn star's videos.

Grown Up Hot by Inell | Teen | Summary: Derek’s college Dream Boy just happens to be the nerdy kid he bullied back in middle school. Karma sucks.

And here’s three on going stories I read:

Human is Just a Word by lady emebalia (emebalia) | Explicit | 84/85 Summary:  Getting claimed by a werewolf has so not been on Stiles' agenda for the night. But at least he can choose whose human pet he's going to be. That's a plus, right?

Adult Wolf by KouriArashi | Teen | 18/? Summary: As if Sheriff Stilinski doesn't have enough to deal with, now he's been attacked by some enormous dog in the forest, and that's normal compared to what happens next...Season one re-telling with Sheriff Stilinski being bitten instead of Scott.

Bruises and Bitemarks by oblivions172 | Explicit | 15/? Summary: Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he's attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years.