#dylan obrien x original female character

[maria021015]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 6 AHEAD

Tears streamed down her face and her body shook with sobs as the adrenaline finally wore off and her panic caught up with her. Her chest felt tight and her thoughts scrambled in an uncontrollable mess, repeating the same cycle.

We could have died tonight.

Xander would have blamed himself.

He’d be all alone.

I’m all alone.

No one else saw what I saw.

I know what I saw.

Don’t I?

It’s impossible.

It wasn’t real.

We could have died tonight.

Stiles found Zaida hiding out of view on the floor of the parking lot, her back pressed against the wheels of the Sheriff’s car. He hesitated for a long moment, wondering if he should leave her be. Instead, his guilt pushed him forward, and he slid down against his father’s car, dropping to sit beside her on the cold ground.

“Hey,” he said softly, unable to think of anything else to say to break the silence.

“This spot’s taken. Go pick another place to have your own mental or emotional breakdown.” the girl looked up at him through a blurry haze of tears and for the first time since meeting her she seemed wholly vulnerable. She’d always come across as so immovable, stubborn, and determined, so seeing her this way was a shock to his system.

“I thought I’d check in on you. See if you were okay,” he admitted, hugging his knees to his chest.

“As you can see, I’m completely fine.” she drawled, sniffing and wiping her tears away with her jumper sleeve.

“Yeah, I know you’re fine.” a smile ghosted across his lips and he returned her sarcasm with some of his own. “I’m not though. Just lots of crying and shaking, and some snot dribbling from my nose.”

Zaida frowned, her fingers flying to her nose in search of said snot, only to find there was none. “Kidding.” Stiles shrugged and she stared at him.

“How are you so calm?” she asked, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing them as she pulled herself together internally. Five things.

“Oh, I’m not. Inside I’m a mess. I’d look worse than you right now.” he snorted before his eyes widened in the realisation of what he just said. “I mean, not that you look bad because actually you look good - great, even! Not that it’s great that you’re crying, or anything but- I mean-”

“Stiles, it’s fine. I’m a red-nosed, bleary-eyed, sniffling, shaking disaster. No offence taken.” she brushed it off with a wave of her hand. Four things.

“Yeah, but somehow despite all that, you’re still pretty,” he noted, gaze shifting slowly over her features. He’d never fully realised just how beautiful Zaida was.

“That’s because you spend most of your time running away from me.” she laughed lightly, and Stiles’ face flushed red when he realised he had spoken out loud. “Don’t think you’re off the hook for that, Stilinski. I’ll berate you for it properly when I’m not still trying to process my newly added trauma.”

“I’m sure you will.” he nodded, offering his hand to her. “Until then, shall we call a truce?” She looked at it for a moment before reaching out to give him a firm handshake, agreeing upon the proposed terms. Three things. Zaida took a deep steadying breath, grounding herself firmly.

“I just- I keep replaying it over and over in my head and none of it is possible. It can’t be a human and it can’t be a wolf, and the only solution that could possibly explain it all…is something entirely insane.” she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the roots and massaging her scalp to ease the building tension. Unless there was an entirely different, more rational explanation. “When the human brain is struggling to process trauma, sometimes it makes up its own separate reality to make sense of things. Alters memories so vividly you can’t tell fiction from fact. I always was so adamant that I knew what I saw, but maybe…maybe I’m just going crazy. Seeing and remembering things that were never there in the first place.”

“You aren’t going crazy.” Stiles shook his head, unable to allow her to question her own sanity. Was it really fair to let her suffer as she was now, all to hide a secret that she would likely unearth on her own in time? The girl was relentless. If she wanted to figure it all out, she would. Hell, she already had.

“How do you know?” she snorted sceptically, twisting her rings. Two things.

“Because I’ve seen them too,” he answered after a brief pause. “The unexplainable, and everything that points towards it being the solution. The truth.”

“I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing here.” Zaida insisted. One thing. The lingering mint in her mouth.

“Try me.” Stiles prompted, wanting to hear her say it. Wanting to know what had given it away. If she had seen anything he’d missed. “You asked me not if I knew who it was, but what . What do you think was in there? What did you see?”

“I saw what I thought was a human. I saw it shift into an animal. Into a wolf. That’s why none of it makes sense. It can’t be one, or the other, because…it’s both.” she held her breath, waiting for him to laugh at her, to look at her like she was crazy, or tell her it was all in her messed-up head, just like Xander had. But he didn’t. Stiles looked at her with that same steady expression and an understanding in his amber eyes. He wasn’t concerned, or shocked, if anything…he had been expecting it. He believed.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

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

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

Chapter 1: Escape (Dylan POV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

T-Pose: You make it there alright?

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

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

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

Dylan: Yeah bro. I’m here

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

Dylan: It’s quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

T-Pose: Dicked 😉

Dylan: Behave. You child.

T-Pose: 👶

  **----------**

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

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

“Hello,” he smiled back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure not in L.A. anymore.” 

[oh-obrien]

The Day We Fell In Love

Word Count: ~ 4,200

Warnings: Allusions to assault and grooming

A/N: WHAT IS UP. I have not written in so long but this one just like came to me. I hope everyone likes it because I am quite happy with it considering I banged it out in about three hours, but this idea just came to me and I needed to get it down. Also this has nothing to do with All Too Well the gif just fit, I so do not condone the type of relationship presented in the video but the gif FITS. 

“I’m really tired of this,” Cassidy laughed through the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes, wiping them away with the sleeve of her flannel that she had wrapped around her thumb. She pulled her sleeve away and noticed the damp spot of fabric, shaking her sleeve out before crossing her arms over and chest again, a frown pulling at her lips. “I just don’t understand it anymore really, and I hate crying, I like never cry and when I do it’s over stupid shit like this.” Cassidy looked up to see Stiles at the opposite end of her bed, his legs outstretched in front of him and his back resting against the dresser she had pushed up against the end of her bed. His hair was still only partly dry from lacrosse practice and sat messy on top of his head. A ‘Georgetown Lacrosse’ t-shirt stretched around the arms while Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and a pair of gray sweatpants covered his legs, his hoodie had been discarded somewhere in Cassidy’s room when he had entered the space nearly half an hour earlier. “I don’t really know what to say, Cass,” Stiles spoke softly, not wanting to startle Cassidy at all, but also wanting the girl to know he had been listening.

Cassidy shrugged, reaching up to swipe her sleeve under her eyes again, “there’s nothing to say,” she let out a small sigh, “it just sucks I guess is all. It’s like-” Cassidy paused, clearly trying to think of the right words, and Stiles didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought, so he took in the silence for a few moments. “It’s like every single time I think something is going to work out, and I get hopeful it is going to work out, life just throws it right back at me.” She took in a shaky breath while she stretched out her own legs, resting them next to Stiles’. “When the time is right-” “When the time is right and it’s the right person it’ll work out,” Cassidy cut Stiles off, “I’ve heard it before Stiles, I get it.” Cassidy paused for a moment before realizing how rude she had sounded, she didn’t mean to snap at Stiles, he had only been trying to help, had been trying to make her feel better. Just like he always did. “Sorry,” Cassidy added.

Stiles shrugged and uncrossed his arms, running a hand through his drying hair, “don’t apologize,” he shrugged. “Look,” he sat up a little bit straighter, “it’s not easy and I get that, but you can’t keep beating yourself up every time it doesn’t work out with a guy, that isn’t healthy.” “I get that!” Cassidy felt herself growing frustrated now. “But I’m almost twenty-one Stiles and have never had a real relationship! What’s my marketable points at this point?” Cassidy paused for a moment and laughed lightly. “Oh yeah the only guy I’ve ever kissed groomed me and then basically assaulted me sorry I’m damaged and by the way sex is out of the question for the first few months of our relationship. I can’t tell a guy that!” “The right guy-” “Will understand and wait for me to be comfortable,” Cassidy finished Stiles’ sentence again. She found it kind of amusing, it really proved that they truly had actually had this conversation before. “I get that, but it doesn’t make feeling so- so behind and like, so unwanted, any better. It’s not even like I tell guys what happened, I’ve never gotten to that point with a guy I’m interested in, it’s just like they can tell I’m damaged goods or something.” “Don’t talk about yourself like that, Cass,” Stiles fingers itched to pull his best friend into a hug, to tell her that everything would work out eventually, that someone who accepted her for who she was, flaws and all, was sat right in front of her, he stopped himself though. Cassidy took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, her eyes squeezing shut behind the lenses of her glasses, a few tears running down her cheeks that she quickly wiped away. “It just sucks,” she spoke quietly when she opened her eyes again, her normally bright blue eyes slightly bloodshot with purple bags under them. “My therapist keeps telling me once I work on myself the right guy will come along, that once I’m betting life will have a plan for me. It just feels like such bullshit now.” With that Cassidy took a shaky breath in and rested her head back against her wall, tears freely flowing down her face and her shoulders shaking slightly. Stiles took in a deep breath himself, pushing aside everything he actually wanted to day, and tapped Cassidy’s thigh with the sock covered toes of his right foot. “I hate feet, Stiles,” Cassidy spoke with no actual malice behind the words as she looked up to meet her best friend’s eyes again. “Too bad,” Stiles held his arms open, and Cassidy let out a half-hearted sigh before pushing herself off the wall and turning to settle into Stiles’ hold. “This is happening more and more often, Cass,” he joked while resituating himself so he could comfortably keep his hold on the girl. Cassidy just shrugged while she traced the letters on the upper left thigh of Stiles’ sweatpants; her fingers tracing gently over the ‘G-E-O-R’ before she paused her movements. “Do you think I’m just not supposed to wind up with anyone?” The words almost shocked Stiles, he rested his chin on top of Cassidy’s head and took a moment, hoping she would say something else, and he wouldn’t actually need to answer the question. However, when she didn’t continue Stiles found himself scrambling for words in his head, trying to scrape together and answer that would satisfy Cassidy while also not outing the feelings he had for his best friend. Stiles reached up with his free hand and twisted a strand of her honey-colored hair around his index finger, “I think that good things come to those who wait,” he hoped that the cheesy words would get him a reaction. A quiet mix between a snort and a laugh slipped past Cassidy’s lips and she went back to tracing the letters on Stile’s pants, finishing out the remainder of ‘Georgetown’ before moving on to the ‘Lacrosse’ underneath. “Stiles?” She spoke up after a few seconds of silence between the pair, her fingers not pausing in their tracing. Stiles hummed quietly, acknowledging that he was still listening to the girl, but not bothering to open his eyes as she couldn’t see him anyways. “Thank you,” she stopped her tracing after the ‘o’ in ‘Lacrosse’, “for always being there,” she added afterwards. “I don’t think I would be in as good of a place as I am now if I didn’t drag you along for the ride all these years.” “Don’t thank me,” Stiles responded softly, “I’ll always be here, you know that.” Stiles would always be there for Cassidy, no matter what it entailed. Even if she never loved him the same way. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── “What is your issue lately?” Jackson’s voice cut through the conversation at the lunch table, stopping any conversation at the table that had been going on. “Whose issue?” Allison spoke up after a few beats of silence between the group, Scott moving to wrap an arm around his girlfriend’s waist. Jackson paused in the middle of taking a bite of the sandwich he had in his hand to point across the table at Cassidy. “Cass,” he said plainly. Cassidy looked up from the book she had been reading at the mention of her name. “I haven’t seen you eat anything in like a week and not to be rude but you played like shit last night, for one of the best players in the state to score no goals and give up three face-off’s something has to be going on.” Stiles looked next to him to see Cassidy swallow thickly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth before shrugging. “I’ve just been really tired,” her voice sounded slightly raw, it could have just been from yelling at the game last night, being the underclassmen captain put a lot of weight on Cassidy’s shoulders. Division 1 scouts from across the country were watching her already, as a sophomore in high school, she was expected to preform and preform consistently on top of keeping up her grades with a schedule that was made up entirely of advanced placement and honors level classes; of course, she was going to be tired. Jackson scoffed and everyone turned to face him. “I’m just saying,” he held his hands up, as if saying he wasn’t responsible for any argument that was about to breakout, “just because you aren’t fucking around with that kid from Devenford anymore doesn’t mean you can just stop preforming well. We all go through break-ups, don’t throw this for the rest of the school.” The table went silent again and Stiles noticed that Cassidy was chewing on her bottom lip now, a nervous habit of hers. “I’m gonna,” Cassidy slid her book back into her backpack, zipping it closed before standing up and slinging it over her shoulders, “I’m gonna go, I have a meeting with my coach in fifteen minutes anyways.” She glanced down at the watch on her wrist before turning on her heel and walking out of the cafeteria. After the doors shut behind Cassidy the rest of the table turned to look at Jackson. “What the fuck man!” Scott raised his voice slightly while Stiles caught Lydia’s eye from across the table. She nodded towards the door and Stiles took the hint to mean Lydia was telling him to go check on Cassidy. “We got it,” Allison leaned over to whisper in Stiles’ ear, signaling that the rest of the table felt confident that they could curb the argument between Stiles and Jackson before it ballooned into a full-blown fight. Not saying anything else Stiles gathered his own things before slipping out of the uncomfortable cafeteria seat, throwing his trash out before exiting the room and heading off in the direction of the girls locker room where Cassidy most likely had gone. The halls were mostly empty, with nearly forty minutes remaining in the lunch hour most students were either still in the cafeteria or eating outside as it was a nice day out. Stiles followed the path to the gym and instead of turning to enter the men’s locker room, her turned to enter the women’s locker room, listening carefully for any voices before crossing the threshold. “Cass!” Stiles called out her name, “Cassidy?” He tried again after receiving no answer. A few seconds later stiles heard a sniffle followed by someone trying to take in a deep breath and followed the sound. Rounding the corner into the showers Stiles saw Cassidy sitting up against the wall of the first shower, her knees pulled up to her chest and her shoulders shaking while she tried to get in a full breath. “Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles dropped his backpack before running over to Cassidy, crouching down in front of her and resting his hands on the tops of her knees. “Look at me, Cassidy,” he spoke firmly trying to get the girl’s attention. “Cassidy!” He tried again after getting no response, shaking her shoulders gently this time. “S-Stiles what are- what are you do-doing?” Cassidy took in a deep breath, still clearly not getting enough air in as she took another right after. “I’m-I’m fine j-just go-go back to -lu-lunch,” she tried to speak around her shallow, shaky breaths, tears running down her face. Stiles pushed himself back, so he was kneeling in front of his best friend again, his hands resting on his own legs but itching to pull Cassidy into a hug. “I’m not leaving,” he just shook his head, staying firmly in place. “Did what Jackson say really get to you that much?” Stiles asked quietly, wondering why she had let something Jackson say get to her in such a way. Everyone knew Jackson would purposely try and get into people’s heads, and most of the time no one thought anything of it. However, his comments had clearly stuck something in Cassidy. “N-no,” Cassidy squeezed her eyes shut and took in a deep breath, and to Stiles it sounded like she had gotten more air in than the last few breaths. “Is your dad,” Cassidy paused to take another deep breath, more color returning to her face and her shoulders no longer shaking with the force of her inhales, “is your dad working yet?” She finally finished her thought. Stiles pulled out his phone to check the time, it was only twelve minutes past noon, and his dad had the night shift that night, he wouldn’t need to be to work until three that afternoon. “He’s probably still at home,” Stiles paused, “why?” “I want to talk to him,” Cassidy pushed herself upright on shaky arms and closed her eyes again, taking another deep breath in. “Can you drive me to your place, I shouldn’t be driving right now,” she wiped over her tear-stained cheeks with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and frowned when she pulled around the fabric to see it damp. “ And if I don’t talk to your dad now, I know I probably never will.” Stiles picked up Cassidy’s backpack before he offered her his other hand, helping her off the floor. “What exactly do you need to talk to my dad about?” Stiles asked after Cassidy made her way over to one of the many sinks in the locker room, turning the cold water on. “Nothing you need to know about right now,” she spoke before bending down to splash cold water over her face, “I’ll tell you eventually,” she added after standing up again, looking at Stiles through the mirror that hung above the sink. He had a clearly displeased frown on his face and Cassidy rolled her eyes while she patted her face dry with the scratchy school bathroom paper towels. “Don’t look at me like that,” she took in a final, slightly shaky, deep breath before heading towards the door of the locker room. Stiles paused to look himself over in the mirror momentarily, fixing his hair that had gotten moved out of place and straightening his flannel shirt out. What could Cassidy possibly want to tell his dad about that she couldn’t tell him about. Why would she be going to his dad and not her own parents? So many questions were running through Stiles’ mind that he wanted answers to, but he would need to respect Cassidy and her space. If she had said that she would tell Stiles about it eventually, he knew she would, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about his best friend; about the girl that had caught his eye after years of pining after Lydia Martin. “You coming Stilinski?” Cassidy’s voice pulled Stiles out of his own thoughts, and he patted at his pockets, looking for his car keys. “Yeah!” Stiles grabbed his keys out of his front right pocket before slinging his backpack over his shoulders and following Cassidy out of the locker room, the pair exiting out the front doors of Beacon Hills High School and out to Stiles’ Jeep. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── “Y’know,” Stiles stopped running his fingers through Cassidy’s hair and she hummed at the boy’s words, not moving from her place curled up in Stiles’ side, content to be sharing body heat with the boy. “I remember the day I drove you home to talk to my dad like it was yesterday,” Stiles spoke quietly. “I’m sure you do too, but just, that’s something that I think it going to stick with me my entire life.” Cassidy took in a deep breath before shifting so her head was resting in Stiles’ lap so she could look up and see him while they spoke. “Of course, I remember it,” Cassidy laughed lightly while she spoke. Stiles reached down to start running his fingers through her hair again, “I just knew if I didn’t tell someone then that I never would.” Cassidy closed her eyes while she continued speaking, “I made my mind up in that moment and if I didn’t stick to it, I’d still have that bottled up inside of me.” Stiles remembered the drive home after Cassidy had asked him to drive her home from school that afternoon their sophomore year. The car had been silent other than Cassidy sniffling every few minutes, her head resting against the passenger window while Stiles nervously tapped on his wheel the entire way home. It had felt like a pivotal moment in their friendship, although the pair had known each other since pre-kindergarten, that day changed something between them. “I just still really appreciate the trust you put in me that day.” “Why wouldn’t I trust you?” Cassidy peeled her eyes open to see Stiles giving her a ‘really?’ look before she rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she felt her lips pull into a small smile, “I knew if I was going to trust someone to bring me to have that conversation, I would want it to be you,” Cassidy paused for a moment, “I just trusted you, that’s all. You didn’t push when I said I needed to talk to your dad, you didn’t force me to tell you what I need to tell him, you didn’t ask any questions. You just drove me to your house and went up to your room while I talked to your dad.” “That’s what any decent person would do,” Stiles shrugged, and Cassidy reached down to pinch his thigh. “Stop being such a good guy!” Cassidy laughed before trying to move away when Stiles reached down to poke her sides. “No!” she laughed before pulling off of Stiles’ legs and pushing herself, so she was sitting up right. “That is so not cool!” Stiles Sat up straighter himself while Cassidy pushed herself off the bed, walking over to her coffee machine and flipping it on. “So, pinching me is fine?” Stiles cocked his head to the side while he watched Cassidy sift through the countless k-cups she had in one of her desk drawers. Cassidy just shrugged while she slipped a mug under her coffee maker and put the k-cup in pressing a few more buttons while she went. “Consider us even,” she was watching as her coffee maker heated up, paying Stiles no mind, allowing him to take advantage of the situation. “I don’t call that even,” Stiles spoke while he pushed himself off Cassidy’s bed, quickly crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Stiles!” She laughed trying to push herself out of his grip. Stiles felt a wide smile stretch across his face before he threw Cassidy back on her bed, climbing above her and pinning her arms down to the bed. Play fighting wasn’t unusual for the pair, the two having tussled like this their entire lives, often times when they were younger Scott would also get involved. “Remember that time Scott bashed your head against the wooden sandbox in like first grade when he tired to do that?” Stiles eyes found the scar that still sat on Cassidy’s forehead, slightly above her left eyebrow. “Of course I remember that!” Cassidy was still fighting to get out of Stiles’ grip, “I needed six stitches in my head!” She tried to use her legs to flip them over, but it proved to be of no use as Sites switched to using one arm to keep her hands pinned to the bed. Stiles tipped his head back and laughed deeply, the laugh bubbling up from his chest, the sound causing a warmth to spread through Cassidy’s body that she had never felt before. She closed her eyes and felt her body relax while she took a deep breath in. Fuck. “Stiles?” Cassidy spoke quietly when she opened her eyes again, his eyes already on her. “I don’t know what this is but-” “Can I kiss you?” Stiles cut Cassidy off with no warning, the grip he had on her arms relaxing significantly. “Can you what?” Cassidy felt her voice catch in her throat, the last work coming out slightly choaked while she didn’t break eye contact with the boy currently balancing himself above her. “Can I kiss you?” Stiles licked his lips after speaking. Cassidy felt her heart hammering against her chest, so much so that she swore she could hear her heart beating steadily in her head; any coherent thoughts she had disappearing completely.  Cassidy nodded her head shallowly and Stiles turned his head slightly, a dopey smile stretching across her lips. “You gotta say it,” he teased. “Yeah,” Cassidy nodded again, “you can kiss me.” With that Stiles dropped his grip on Cassidy’s arms completely and leaned down to connect his lips to hers, applying gentle pressure for a few second before pulling away. It wasn’t much of a kiss, but he knew with how little experience Cassidy had, letting her take the lead from there would be the best decision. A few seconds later Stiles watched while she peeled her eyed open, running her tongue over her bottom lip before looking up to meet Stiles’ eyes. “That can’t be it, Stilinski,” she offered him a small smile before pushing herself up on her forearms so that the pair was closer together. Stiles rolled his eyes and sat up, situating himself up against Cassidy’s dresser as he had been before. “C’mere then,” he motioned Cassidy towards him. With some hesitation Cassidy pushed herself upright and shuffled towards Stiles, resting a knee on either side of his hips before looking up to meet his eyes again. “Now what?” She asked, looking somewhat unsure what to do next. Stiles suddenly become more hyperaware of just how much experience Cassidy had with men in the past and wrapped one arm around her waist, the other coming up to cup her jaw. “Now we take it slow,” he leaned up to capture her lips with his again. Stiles felt Cassidy relax in his hold and began moving his lips against hers, hoping that she would get the idea and copy his motions. A few seconds later Stiles felt himself let out a happy sigh when Cassidy began moving her lips against his, one of her hands finding its way into the hair at the back of her neck and the other coming to rest on his chest. Her lips were soft against his, warm, Stiles hadn’t kissed anyone in quite a while; but he never remembered it feeling so good. Eventually, Cassidy pulled away and rested her forehead against his, “wow,” she breathed out, her word falling into a breathy laugh at the end. Cassidy moved to rest her forehead against Stiles’ shoulder, falling into a fit of laugher, and he wrapped both his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly into him and leaning back a bit more. “What’s so funny?” Stiles couldn’t help the smile that he felt growing on his face. “I never thought that would happen,” Cassidy sat up and pecked Stiles gently on the lips once more before reaching up to run her thumb over her own lips, “that feels so weird!” Stiles reached up and pulled her hands gently away from her lips, “don’t do that,” he laughed gently before interlacing their fingers. “But honestly, I can’t believe that just happened either. Never thought it would,” he looked down to where their fingers were interlaced and rested his other hand on Cassidy’s thigh. One of her hands still remained on his chest, gently tracing over the same letters on his t-shirt over and over again. “So, all this time you spent listening to me complain about the guys it never worked out with you were-” Cassidy trailed off at the end of her sentence, leaving it somewhat open ended. “Yep,” Stiles leaned in and kissed the top of her nose. “Since before you were with that dick sophomore year of high school,” Stiles added at the end. Cassidy laughed lightly again before slapping Stiles gently on the chest. “So you’re telling me that I could have avoided all that trouble if you would have spoken up sooner?” Cassidy spoke with mock offense. “Damn Stilinski.” Stiles shrugged and moved his hand off Cassidy’s thigh to tuck some of the hair that had fallen in front of her face behind er ear. “Now I just get to take my time with you,” he leaned in to connect their lips again briefly, “we’re taking this at your pace you know?” Stiles pulled back enough to speak, and Cassidy leaned in to connect their lips again. “Mhumm,” Cassidy hummed against Stiles lips before pulling back slightly herself. “Because the right guy will understand and wait for me to be comfortable.”

[mummybear]

How Things Change - Part 9 - To Be Or Not To Be

Warnings: Violence, Serious Angst, Swearing. Mentions of sex and biting. Think that's it really

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Deaton, OC (Alex), Melissa McCall, and others... don’t want to spoil it, :P

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x OC (Alex)

Words: 3897

Alex growled again behind her Alpha, Scott held out his arm in front of Alex holding her back, while secretly hoping that she would stop herself. "What the hell are you two doing here? And why are you together?" The sheriff questioned from his unconscious son's bedside.

"That's a good point, why are you together?" Scott questioned stepping closer to the pair still in the doorway, with Alex hot on his heels. She didn't like how she had been pushed behind Scott like some kind of wounded animal, she could protect herself now after all but there was only one person her anger was focused on.

"Come now Scott, I'm not here to fight. I thought you and I had reached an understanding" Deucalion stated with a slight smile, stepping closer until he was almost nose to nose with each other.

But Scott didn't flinch as he looked up into Deucalion's now seeing eyes, "So did I. So why did you bring him here?" Scott said with a growl, eyes glowing as he looked over the older man's shoulder, looking at the person behind him. Before he could answer Scott though, Alex had barged the pair out of the way and charged forward, practically seething as she grabbed Theo by the throat dragging him into the room and slammed him into the nearest wall.

"I'm gonna rip your throat out with my fucking teeth. You complete piece of shit" Alex spat as her claws began sinking into the skin of his throat.

"Oh, I love it when you get feisty!" Theo chuckled, not even bothering to struggle in her grip.

"Good, I'm so pleased!" Alex replied sarcastically as her voice dropped and she continued, "Once you're dead I plan on going after the rest of your good for nothing pack! Starting with your bitch" Alex snarled her grip tightening further, only briefly aware of the raised chatter going on behind her.

Then she heard the only voice in the world that could make her stop, "Lexi?"  he asked, voice still croaking and dry. Alex dropped Theo to the floor without a second thought, leaving him in a pile on the floor, to catch his breath. She quickly ran over to Stiles, who had collapsed onto the floor beside his bed.

Scott grabbed hold of Theo and turned him onto his front pinning him to the ground, holding his arms behind his back with one of Scott's knees in the bottom of his back. Scott held him still the best he could, as Chris got him into some werewolf proof handcuffs. The hunter and Deaton left the hospital room, dragging a resistant Theo along with them promising to be back soon.

Alex pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles' lips, her breathing faltering finally seeing him awake, completely in awe of him her hands gently roamed his face, still struggling to believe he had woken up. By some miracle, It had actually worked.

"What am I? Your grandmother?" Stiles chuckled sarcastically, his voice still raw and scratchy.

She smiled a small smile despite herself, her teary eyes flicking up to meet his gorgeous golden brown eyes, for what felt the first time in forever.

Stiles cupped her cheeks in his hands and pulled her lips to his. Alex quickly smiled into the kiss, shifting to sit between his legs and suddenly it felt like they were the only people in the room, they could no longer hear the mindless chatter around them, only hear and see each other. Stiles slipped his tongue between her lips, and Alex found herself sighing happily. Threading her fingers through those dark thick locks of his.

Stiles growled low in the back of his throat, gripping onto her hips tightly and pulled her body against his. Alex couldn't stop the whimper of his name against his lips if she tried.

"Should we leave?" Melissa chuckled looking around the room.

"We can't, we all need to talk. This can't wait any longer" Scott sighed, walking over to the couple seemingly in their own world.

"They don't look like they're in a very chatty mood" his mother replied simply as Deaton entered the room again.

Scott placed his hand on Alex's shoulder, "No! Don't!" the veterinarian tried to warn, but it was too late. The second that Scott's hand made contact Stiles snapped away from Alex, and launched himself at his best friend.

Before anyone could stop him Stiles had Scott pinned to the floor by his throat, "Don't you fucking touch her" Stiles snarled, spittle flying from his lips as his eyes glowed bright gold.

Deaton approached the newly turned werewolf with practised caution, making sure to speak quietly, "Stiles, you need to calm down. You know Scott would never hurt Alex" Deaton tried to reason, stepping a little closer Scott kept his arms raised not wanting to provoke Stiles any further than he already had, knowing that to many people could get hurt.

"Only one person can stop him from ripping Scott's throat out" Deucalion revealed carefully, placing a hand on Deaton's shoulder, and he turned his eyes to look at Alex who had already started approaching the pair.

After she had finally finished holding the sheriff back, assuring him that she could handle this without anyone getting hurt. "Stiles baby let him go, this isn't you. We don't need to be turning on our pack, not now" Alex said carefully, knowing it was probably just his emotions messing with him. Alex gently cupped his cheek, her eyes glowing just like his as he turned to look at her, her other hand wrapped around one of his wrists just as gently.

Stiles shook himself and immediately looked guilty, and he flicked his eyes between Scott under him and Alex beside him, practically jumping off of Scott, throwing himself against the wall behind them.

Alex was back by his side in seconds, "I-I don't. I don't understand what's happening to me" Stiles stuttered, a tear rolling down his bright red cheek his head dropped forward onto his knees as more tears began to fall, as he sank his hands into his hair tugging hard.

Alex crawled in front of him cupping his face in her hands and forced him to look at her again, she was practically able to see his muscles tense beneath his t-shirt at the grip he had one his hair. When their eyes finally met again, he looked away almost straight away looking anywhere but at her, "Get back Lexi please, just get away from me. I don't want to hurt you too" he practically sobbed, pushing himself as far away from her as he could.

"Hey don't say that, look its okay we-" Alex tried but Stiles didn't give her chance to finish or touch him again, because he had already pushed himself to his feet and was sprinting out of the room, barging everyone out of the way.

But Alex was quick to her feet and sprinting after him, the others weren't far behind either. She didn't wait for Scott's suggestions of where he was going, as the people in the hospital blocked their path.

She just ran unsure of where he was going, the rain was coming down, hard and fast. Alex knew the rain would quickly wash away their scent, so nobody would be able to follow them soon. She barely even registered how fast her legs were moving, but it was like she just knew where she was going. Like her body gravitated towards his.

Suddenly Alex realised that she had run into the woods a little while ago, she was further in than she had ever remembered being before, screaming his name as she continued to run.

Something stopped her in an empty space, void of trees or bushes, there was just dust, darkness and a steady heartbeat. But she couldn't be sure if it was her own or not. Not until a sudden growl caught her attention from behind her,

Alex turned towards the noise quickly, her teeth bared and her eyes glowing when a familiar voice surprised her. "I thought I told you to stay away from me" Stiles growled low, sounding a little more menacing than she was used to, reminding her more of void than her Stiles.

He emerged from behind a nearby tree walking towards the dead space she was currently standing in, "Oh yeah! And since when are you, my boss, exactly?!" Alex spat back, becoming a little more defensive the closer he got.

Stiles chuckled darkly at that, the phone she had dropped on the ground was lighting the space around her a little. One of the only reasons she could see him with using her other eyes.

Stiles began circling her like a predator would its prey, keeping their eye contact the entire time. "I bet you love it when he touches you, don't you Alex?" Stiles snarled, levelling her with a look that sent a shiver up her spine.

She was momentarily shocked by his statement, "Wait what Scott?" she questioned in disbelief before continuing, "Are you fucking serious with this shit Stiles!? Is dickhead Stiles back now then, why because you're jealous?!" Alex laughed humourlessly.

He laughed again seemingly closer than before, "No, not jealous baby girl. I just think Scott needs to learn not to touch, especially when he's touching what doesn't belong to him" Stiles growled possessively.

Alex sucked in a breath when she felt those long warm fingers gripping one of her hips tightly, she felt the fingers of his other hand brushing across her neck. Making her whimper despite herself, his lips brushing her ear when her head dropped back onto his shoulder. "You're mine" Stiles breathed hotly against her neck, making her skin prickle with goosebumps.

She wanted with everything she had to stay in his arms forever, but Suddenly she remembered, pulling out of his hold she turned around to face him, shoving his chest hard with both of her hands and tears in her eyes, "No! You don't get to do this to me! Not after everything that has happened" Alex practically screamed, memories of the last few days flooding her mind.

Stiles sighed, opening his mouth to speak but Alex silenced him with another shove to the chest, "No don't! Don't you dare make excuses Stiles, you're not the only one going through this! This is new to me too, but you keep doing this! Ever since we first met and its only getting worse. We almost fucking lost each other on the same day! But still, you keep going and pushing me away. Then you make me think we've finally gotten through the shit, continuously you push me away. I'm such an idiot, you pull me back in and I come running every single time, without fail, well I've finally had enough" Alex started almost screaming at him, but it quickly changed until she was almost sobbing at the end.

"Fine! You win! Does it make you feel better, congratulations, you're right as usual, and yes I fucked up okay, I know I did! But this isn't all on me, you go off and almost get yourself killed! And just expect me to sit back and deal with it, and it was probably the hardest thing you have ever asked me to do. But I did it, and then you stop me from telling you. You know what I was gonna say, you didn't wanna hear just how much I'm completely, and totally pathetically in love with you!" Stiles cried out, tears streaming down his face now too as he got in Alex's face again.

Alex swallowed hard around the lump that had formed in her throat, finding that she suddenly forgot how to speak, instead, when she tried she just ended up muttering words that sounded like complete nonsense, in hopes that she could conjure up a coherent sentence.

"You know what sweetheart, forget it. I'm getting kind of used to rejection by now anyway" he laughed humorlessly as he turned to leave.

Alex's brain finally caught up to her body and mouth, she grabbed onto his arm stopping him from leaving, "Don't go, Stiles, please. Not like this" Alex begged him, her grip on him not faltering.

Stiles sighed deeply and stopped trying to get away, but he didn't turn to face her as he spoke. "Then give me a reason to stay" Stiles sighed, his shoulders sagging low. She wanted to say it, it was on the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her from saying it.

"You know I do. Just come back to mine with me, please. I can't drag you into my shit anymore, not until you know everything" Alex pleaded, her voice shaking under the weight of her tears.

"Clearly not enough, if you can't even say the words" Stiles spat, pulling out of her grip and turning to face her, "Seriously, pull me in further. We're practically joined for life, and I'm in love with you! It doesn't get any fucking deeper Alex" Stiles exclaimed, as his tears continued to fall down his cheeks, he shook his head and he was gone before she could utter another word.

The look of betrayal and hurt he had on his face was the only thing she could picture, even when she closed her eyes and let the damn break. She dropped to her knees still sobbing quietly and pulled her legs against her chest, curling herself up into the fetal position.

She barely even registered the strong arms picking her up hours later, she found herself not caring who it was, or if they were there to kill her or to save her. But one thing she was sure of was that they smelled safe, she just knew that she trusted him, he was familiar, like family and pack.

Scott had been searching for Stiles for hours when he finally decided to head home for a little bit. Only to find Stiles on his doorstep, with his head in his hands leaning against his front door. "Hey man, you doing okay?" Scott asked awkwardly, not knowing what to say as he sat down beside him.

Stiles looked over at his best friend, "Honestly Scotty, I'm really not. I wish you'd just let me die" Stiles said simply, his red puffy eyes saying there was more to the story, that paired with his words only concerned Scott further.

"Don't talk like that dude, you know as well as I do, that being a werewolf isn't as bad as we first thought. We can help you get a handle on it, control it. You've got too many people who love you, and so much to live for" Scott said thoughtfully.

Stiles just scoffed, "I wish the werewolf thing was all I had to worry about buddy. But a lot of shit has happened in the last few days" Stiles sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Look, I know a lot of stuff has happened. Your emotions are off at the minute anyway, trust me, I still remember what that was like. But I'll help you just like you helped me. We can work through it, as a pack, as a family" Scott assured him, placing a hand on Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles finally looked at Scott, "This day can't get much worse man, first I almost get killed by a psychotic bitch, then there's the whole nearly dying thing. Only to be turned into a werewolf and attack my best friend. To top it off I tell Alex I'm in love with her, and she can't say it back for some bullshit reason. I'm so confused, it's like my whole body craves to be near her, but at the same time it's like my heart has been ripped out so who cares" Sties confessed truthfully, but their conversation was cut short when they heard footsteps heading towards them.

They both looked up almost at the same time, to find Deaton walking towards them, "Where's Alex?" Deaton question almost immediately and he sounded worried, not paying to much attention to the boys in front of him.

"Honestly, right now I don't care" Stiles huffed, though it was clear to everyone except him that he was lying, even though his face remained cold and unaffected by the mention of her name.

Deaton sighed, "Well, I need to speak to you both, its urgent" he informed the boys, but looked right at Stiles.

"I'm not interested" Stiles replied stiffly, standing up to leave.

Scott stopped him gently placing a hand on his shoulder, "Just hear him out Stiles" Scott asked seriously, but he was careful not to make any of the same mistakes he may have made earlier.

Stiles let his shoulders drop as he nodded his agreement, "Do you know about the connection you and Alex share?" Deaton asked curiously.

Stiles nodded, "Yeah I heard everything you said while I was out" Stiles revealed, Scott seemed a little shocked but stayed quiet letting them continue talking.

Deaton got over his momentary shock at the information and continued, "Okay, well there is something neither of you knows. But it would be best to speak to you together, so where was it you last saw her?" Deaton questioned, looking between the pair.

Stiles shifted awkwardly looked at his shoes, remembering just how upset she had been when he'd left her behind, and just where he had left her sank in as well.

"I, uh, well. We kinda had an argument and I left her in the woods" Stiles said, groaning at how stupid he sounded when he said it out loud.

Noticing the immediate shock on Deaton's face didn't help him feel any better, "What? What's the big deal? She's a big girl she can take care of herself, as she keeps reminding me" Stiles scoffed rolling his eyes and folding his arms over his chest, but even he didn't believe that.

Deaton's voice was sombre when he finally spoke up again, "Actually Stiles, yes it is a big deal. Have you two been intimate since you turned, other than the obvious at the hospital?" Deaton questioned, as he started to lead the three of them to start walking, Stiles leading Scott and Deaton to the place he had last remembered him and Alex being at.

"You mean sex? no, why?" Stiles asked while answering his own question, as he turned towards Deaton, confusion all over his face.

"I feared as much, and no bites from each other?" Deaton asked seriously, in case Stiles thought this was some kind of joke.

Stiles blushed avoiding Scott's gaze as he shook his head, but then he remembered something that had happened in the shower at Derek's, "Wait, could it have happened before I changed?" he rushed his question worriedly.

"It's certainly possible. Especially with Alex already technically being a wolf, she may have considered you hers already. Without even being aware" Deaton informed him, they all stopped walking as Deaton turned to Stiles once more.

Those words only felt more guilty, especially when he remembered what Alex had said to him in the woods before. She had already considered him hers, for how long? Then it hit him like a truck. Since they had met, she had felt like he was feeling now, since the first day they met. "Show me," Deaton asked quickly, startling Stiles a little.

"I uh, what why?" Stiles practically stuttered, looking between Scott and Deaton hoping this was a big joke. Scott was doing his best to hold back the smirk on his face, but he was failing miserably. "Don't you dare Scott!" Stiles grumbled a warning at his best friend.

"Just trust that it is important Stiles, please just show me" Deaton sighed in irritation.

"Fine!" Stiles practically shouted, pulling his shirt up slightly at the bottom while tugging the top of his jeans down a little, revealing the small mark on his hip.

"Okay, well that's nothing, any others?" Deaton said carefully, but Stiles noticed that he sounded a little relieved.

Stiles nodded shyly, kicking Scott in the shin when he heard him chuckling quietly, "Shut it Scott" Stiles growled. Before he pulled down his bottom lip, showing it to Deaton. The older man squinted a little unable to see properly, he turned Stiles into the light, and then he stiffened at the sight before him.

"That is exactly what I was afraid of. You're sure that you didn't bite her? Not since you were turned?" Deaton questioned gravely, hoping he was going to get a different answer than he was expecting.

Stiles shook his head, not missing the way Deaton's expression changed at his small action, Deaton swallowed hard meeting Stiles' eyes, "What? What is it?" Stiles asked eyes wide with panic.

"When I explain you have got to stay calm," Deaton replied carefully as he started to walk again, quickly followed by the other two, receiving a swift nod from both of them he continued.

"So as I said before, you and Alex are part of a very rare type of werewolf. The né jumelé are rare in so many ways, but one part is that they require a claim mark from their mate to function. Unfortunately in cases like yours, where only one is bitten the other becomes weaker, in this case, Alex. She will become vulnerable, it's possible although Alex didn't know what she was doing, that her wolf did. The effects will be exacerbated the longer you are separated, she may not have noticed until now. Her emotions will be going crazy soon, they find it even harder than bitten wolves to focus on reality, she will just become weaker until her body gives in. We can stop it, we just need to get you to her, but when she senses her mate after a long time she will be a little rough to say the least" Deaton explained, saying the last bit a little awkwardly, not missing the wide-open mouths of the two in front of him.

"Oh fuck, what did I do! I should have just talked like she wanted to" Stiles exclaimed in complete panic, leaving Scott and Deaton behind he started to sprint towards where she had last been.

He skidded to a halt when he came to the clearing, calling for her to no avail, and his heart hammered in his chest as he searched for her and found nothing. He sniffed the air, her scent hit him straight in the chest, still strong and smelling like everything he loved. But there was something else, or someone else but he couldn't tell who it was, being new at this probably wasn't helping him.

Scott Skidded to a stop beside him not a few minutes later, leaving Deaton to catch up, as he to started sniffing the air, Stiles looked at him hopefully, Scott was quick, catching two scents, then it occurred to him, he recognised both of them and he knew them well.

One was clearly Alex, mixed with Stiles it was almost like one person, something that Scott had never experienced before. It was one of the first scents he remembered from when he had been turned, "It's Derek" Scott mumbled, turning to look at Stiles, "She's with Derek"

Tags: @loverofwaytoomanythings618 @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters @lusyschwa  @imperfect-circle  @fox-in-a-mousetrap-8 @all-will-be-well-love

[maria021015]

“I hate first days. Have I ever told you how much I hate first days?” she whined to her older brother, reaching across the island bench to steal a slice of buttered toast from his plate and take a large bite

“Only almost every year.” Xander regarded her with an arched brow. People had always said that she and Xander didn’t look alike. A passing sibling resemblance, sure. They both had dark brown hair (though his was almost black), the same Grecian straight bridged nose, the same olive skin, same full lips, same almond-shaped eyes, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Where Zaida was short with a soft, curvaceous figure, Xander was tall and lithe with muscles honed from years of training. Where Zaida had eyes hued with green, amber, and chestnut, Xander’s were so dark they could be black. Where Zaida’s hair twisted and fell in waves, Xander’s was straight. Perhaps it came from the fact that he was nine years older than her.

“Remind me why we moved to this shitty little town again?” she huffed, words muffled and distorted by a mouthful of food.

“Because you decided to apply for deputy positions on my behalf - behind my back, might I add - and this ‘shitty little town’ wanted to hire me.” he shot her a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she waved him off and finished her toast with a toothy grin. “I’m so sorry. Getting a promotion must have been awful for you.”

The truth was, she was happy to be here, even if only for Xander’s sake. Her brother had been twenty when their parents had died, attending his third year of college where he had been studying Law, like their father. The incompetence of the officers handling their parents’ case was what had propelled him into a completely different direction. He had started training immediately, collecting all the necessary qualifications to become a police officer. It took him a year to go through the extensive recruitment process, but in the end he made it. Xander always succeeded at whatever he put his mind to, and Xander never stopped at the bottom. He always climbed to the top. Zaida knew he wanted to go for deputy, and then senior deputy, then sergeant, then lieutenant, and so on and so forth until, eventually, he’d be sheriff. Zaida also knew he would never have gone for the position himself.

When their parents died he was ineligible for custody - he had no job at the time and couldn’t support her - so she had gone to live with her father’s parents in San Francisco. When he was finally an officer, he fought tooth and nail to gain custody of her. It had taken another year to have everything finalised. His career, his ambitions, his whole life; he had put it all on hold for her. To take care of her. He shouldn’t have had to do that. He deserved better. So she had taken matters into her own hands.

“I thought I could give you a ride to school today. My shift doesn’t start until later.” He offered, finishing his own breakfast and rising from the kitchen stool to slide the dirty plate into the sink.

“You could have told me that before I woke up early to walk,” Zaida exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air dramatically. Lost sleep was a tragedy of the highest order.

“If you were planning on walking,” he glanced down at his watch nonchalantly. “You’d be late for your meeting with the principal. It’d take you an hour to walk from here, and it’s already seven.”

“You already knew I’d be late, didn’t you?” she tilted her head and raised a brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know you, Zay, and that’s why I knew you would convince yourself it would only take ten minutes to get ready, and wake up at the latest possible time. When actually, you take about half an hour to get ready.” he shrugged and his forced expression of disappointment cracked and gave way to a grin.

“Twenty-five minutes, tops.” she shook her head defiantly. “Fifteen, on a good day.”

“Fifteen minutes, thirty, either way, you’d still be…” Xander picked up his keys from the bench with a clatter.

“Late,” she interrupted and followed him on his path to the entrance door. “Yes, I know. Where are you going?”

“To take you to school?” he dangled the keys noisily in front of her face as he unlocked the heavy wooden door.

“It’ll take like fifteen minutes to drive there? School doesn’t start until eight?” She pushed his hand away and scrunched her brows in confusion.

“Well then I am going to introduce you to a concept you’ve clearly never experienced before.” he began sarcastically.

“And what’s that?” she drawled, trudging along behind him lazily, her heavy boots scraping against the carpet of the apartment building hallway.

“Being early.” Xander flashed her his winning smile and Zaida groaned.

[maria021015]

A little girl, not even twelve years of age, laughing and clutching a bright blue snorkel and sandy flippers.

A heavy wooden door with panels of frosted glass swinging open at her push.

A house with brown-grey timber floorboards, soaking up pools of crimson blood.

Two bodies laying in front of her, torn apart. Lifeless.

The echo of her screaming, reverberating around the empty house.

It was the little girl she had been when she had found the bodies of her parents, killed in their holiday home during the first days of summer vacation. She wasn’t that little girl anymore.

[maria021015]

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: F/M

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Original Female Character(s)Allison Argent/Scott McCallIsaac Lahey/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Original Female Character(s)Stiles StilinskiAllison ArgentScott McCall (Teen Wolf)Lydia MartinDerek HaleDanny MāhealaniJackson WhittemoreIsaac LaheyMalia TateChris ArgentMelissa McCallSheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Additional Tags: Slow BurnFriends to LoversInspired by Teen Wolf (TV)Canon CompliantSort OfI'm Bad At TaggingStrong female friendshipsSiblingsCanon-Typical ViolenceBlood and InjuryTraumaEventual RelationshipsEventual Spice

Language: English

Published: 2024-03-05

Updated: 2024-04-23

Words: 447,048

Chapters:84/?

Comments:322

Kudos: 235

Bookmarks: 42

Hits: 8,684

Summary: A little girl, not even twelve years of age, laughing and clutching a bright blue snorkel and sandy flippers. A heavy wooden door with panels of frosted glass swinging open at her push. A house with brown-grey timber floorboards, soaking up pools of crimson blood. Two bodies laying in front of her, torn apart. Lifeless. The echo of her screaming, reverberating around the empty house. It was the little girl she had been when she had found the bodies of her parents, killed in their holiday home during the first days of summer vacation. She wasn’t that little girl anymore.

Beacon Hills is a town brimming with secrets. For Zaida Callis, that might mean the answers she so desperately seeks are finally within reach. She will go as far as needed to get them. Will she find what she has been searching for? Or will she stumble upon much more than she expected?

[maria021015]

Xander didn’t get home until after the sun had dipped below the horizon that night. It had left her alone with her thoughts and her countless opened and unopened cardboard boxes. Though Zaida much preferred the company of the boxes rather than her thoughts, so she busied herself with unpacking. Clothes were hung and organised according to item category and then sub-organised into colour. Keepsakes were tucked in boxes below her bed, her art supplies slid under right next to them. In that box lay countless expensive paintbrushes made from sable hairs. They were a gift from her father. Each birthday and holiday he would buy her another until her collection was complete. She couldn’t bear to paint with them, afraid of the bristles becoming stiff or stained. Afraid of ruining something so precious. Afraid of the memories that came when she held them. So instead they sat in that box with the rest of her art supplies.

When she had gotten through half of the boxes, she decided she had done enough manual labour for the day. Padding over barefoot to the kitchen, she sifted through the pantry and fridge, taking in the ingredients and mentally recording her options before deciding on making some creamy pasta. She was just shoving the last forkfuls of penne into her mouth when her brother walked through the front door.

“I saved you some dinner.” she gestured vaguely to the closed pot atop the stove. “How was your shift?”

“I can’t answer that question, Zay.” he sighed, exhaustion weighing down his features as he pulled a bowl out from the dishware cupboard.

“What? I’m just making polite conversation about how your day was.” she hummed with a casual shrug and dropped her own bowl in the sink, atop his toast plate from the morning. “My day was great by the way, thanks for asking.”

“You and I both know you’re not asking about how my day was, you’re asking me about what happened to the bus driver.” he shot back, filling his bowl up with the remaining pasta.

“Well now that you mention it, what did happen to that bus driver? Has your genius brain figured it out yet?” she prompted him, leaning against the kitchen bench.

“You saw the bus. You’re smart enough to figure out what happened. He’s not the first animal attack victim, and at this rate, he won’t be the last. We’ve been scouring the reserve for days and there’s no trace of this thing.” he rubbed at his temples, clearly frustrated, but something he said made her pause.

“What do you mean not the first victim? I thought it was only animals that have been showing up dead?” Zaida pushed. He’d mentioned mauled deer but nothing about human victims.

“There was a body found in the woods, but it still hasn’t been officially connected to the animal attacks. They want to be sure.” he yielded, knowing she would not relent unless she was given at least some answers.

“If they found the body then what are they waiting for? Surely it would be easy enough to distinguish an animal attack. Bites, claws, animal hair, voilà, you have your perpetrator.” her brows creased, trying to make sense of it.

“Well, they’re waiting to find the other half-” Xander began and her eyes widened.

“The other half ! They found half a body and you didn’t tell me! ” she gawked, stuffing down her rising concern and smothering it with sarcasm. “What if it wasn’t an animal attack? What if there’s a murderer out there swinging a katana like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, just chopping people in half? And to think, you were going to let me walk to school!”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” he groaned and shook his head. “Just forget about it, okay? You’re not supposed to know about this, so keep it zipped.”

“Zipped. I am zipping.” she mimed the action of zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key. In half ? What kind of animal could sever a body in half? The same kind of animal that could rip a bus door off its hinges , she told herself. The same kind of animal that left five-fingered claw marks .

“I’m sure the animal will show up soon and when it does,” he mimicked shooting off a gun. “We’ll deal with it. For now, you go straight to school and you come straight back home, okay? I don’t want you out and about.”

“Yes, Lord Vader, sir.” she brought her fingers to her temple in a salute before turning on her heel to retreat to her bedroom. Well, her tally of weird shit was growing. Fast.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

WELP....

Y'all seemed to like the first one, and some of you wanted more. So.... here ya go, you freakin' Dylgenerates. I know I'm a tease, but I'm also a people pleaser. It's tough to balance, okay!?

- Trashy

Authors Note: Established relationship with a girl named Rachael. Read Part 1 first, if you feel like it ;)

Cooler 'Heads' Prevail - Part 2

“I’m returning the favour.”

Rachael arched her back, feeling him slide her shorts over her thighs and down her legs. The ice he held in his fingers dripping on her waist as he shimmied her out of her underwear.

“Take off your bra,” he breathed, leaning forward to press a kiss to the skin beside her navel before he scooched down the couch to settle between her legs.

Rachael’s heart skipped behind her ribs as she reached her arms behind her back and unclasped it before she flung it into the heap of clothes they’d made.

Dylan had three ice cubes to torture her with. Rachael knew him well enough to know that was three too many, and he made that abundantly clear when he gently placed the first in her belly button as he held her hips still with his hands.

“Coolin’ you down?” he asked, his hot breath washing over her abdomen as he looked up at her from between her legs.

She fruitlessly squirmed under his strong hands. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“One to talk,” he said, trailing the ice down her body from her belly button until the trickle of cold water disappeared between her folds.

“Oh my—” she shuddered at the feeling of the icy chill creeping over her sensitive skin, snaking around her clit as it warmed from the heat of her skin.

Suddenly the ice was gone, and Rachael looked down, watching him slip it onto his mouth. His hands slid down to the top of her thighs, and he pulled her a little closer to him, bending her knees. He smirked up at her before he dipped and nudged himself into her, his cool lips brushing over her already sensitive skin before he parted them. He let the meltwater that had collected on his tongue spill out over her.

Rachael moaned, throwing her head back against the armrest, her hand grasping desperately to the edge of the couch, the other carded through her own hair. She could feel him smile against her skin before he dragged a long, slow stroke from her entrance to her clit with his smooth, slick tongue.

God, he was good with his mouth, like, really fucking good. With the mouth he had, those perfect lips and that sly tongue, she wasn’t surprised, but he was truly in a league of his own. He used just enough pressure to drive you wild and knew when to lay off to keep you right on the edge of sanity. Knew how to have you keening and begging with clenching thighs and grasping hands. It was like an artform to him, and he painted her with vivid colours.

She’d become convinced that he could hear her thoughts when he was buried between her thighs, because he did just what she wanted before she was even consciously aware of her need. It’d be simple to rely on the tongue he used so deftly, but he didn’t. His lips played their part as well, and his sharp little teeth, every part of it creating an intoxicating symphony of sensation. He hummed and savoured her, like she was his to devour.

His hand slipped from her thigh and the next thing she felt, in concert with the laps and flicks of his tongue, was the press of his arm against her inner thigh, spreading her legs wider apart so he could reach up her body.

“Holy shit!” she cried out when he touched an ice cube over her peaked nipple and then traced it around, soaking her breast.

He laughed against her, his mouth finally separating from her core. He looked up her body as he moved the ice down over her sternum to the other nipple, smiling at the unbridled reaction she gave him.

She bucked her hips—her hand shooting to his hair—putting him back to work, and boy, did he do good work.

It wasn’t long before the sensation of his hot mouth and his icy-cold fingers that were now pinching her nipples and kneading her skin had her sitting right on the precipice of release. She felt like the tension built up inside her was about to tear her apart when he sealed his mouth around her clit and pointed his tongue, flicking and twirling around her overstimulated skin until she was calling out his name so loud there was no chance it went unheard by the crew outside.

Dylan laughed against her inner thigh, pressing his lips to it in an open-mouthed kiss, peppering her with tiny pecks until he was kissing up her torso, making a pit stop at each nipple, warming them up in his mouth before he was looking her in the eye.

Rachael was still trying to center herself back in reality when he leaned down and kissed her, his chin slick with her, the flavour of her still lingering on his tongue. He groaned, rolling his hips into her as his hand snaked up along her body to cup behind her head, his fingers tugging just the tiniest bit on her hair.

She clawed at his back, and he pulled away from her mouth, his eyes glistening, and his wet lips curled in a lopsided smirk.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, nudging his jaw with her nose.

He chuckled, leaning over the couch and picking up the last piece of ice. “Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He flashed his brows and reached up to trace the ice along the side of her throat.

The feeling sent a shiver down her spine and her skin lit with goosebumps, raising the soft little hairs all over her body. “Oh, Dyl…” she breathed as he set the ice on his tongue and closed his lips around her pulse

“Mmm,” he hummed.

Rachael could feel the pounding of his heart against her skin, feel the heat of his body as he melted the ice into her throat. When all that was left was the last fleeting hints of a chill on his tongue, he sucked her skin into his mouth and dragged across it with his teeth. He was leaving a mark and she was happy to wear it.

He was nestled between her knees, and he rolled his hips. He was hard again, pressed against her thigh, and she could feel impatience in the way he was moving against her, his greedy hands pawing at her waist and chest.

“Wanna fuck me, huh?” she breathed her words into the shell of his ear, relishing in the way it made him shudder, the way it made his lips tremble against her skin.

He lifted himself from her, holding the weight of his upper body on a bent elbow, the veins in his arms and neck straining at his skin. “So bad,” he nodded, pressing himself into her again.

She sighed, smirking up at him. “Well then…” she raised one eyebrow, “what are you waiting for?”

............................................

Dis you guys?

My bad. 😈

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

Authors Note: Yell at me. I deserve it. It's like I want to torture myself and everyone else around me ;)

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

Chapter 11: Views (Dylan POV)

“The Library Pub, huh?” Amelia asked as they walked up the side street around the corner from where they’d parked, heading toward the restaurant. “How’d you find this little spot?”

“Oh...ya know,” Dylan smirked, shuffling along beside her with his hands tucked in his pockets. “I have my ways.”

“Violet?” she asked, turning around and walking backward for a few steps in front of him.

He slowed down just a little. “Indirectly...I guess?”

“Guest binder?”

Dylan stopped. “Yes. You know about the guest binders?”

“Who do you think helped her make the guest binders?” She stopped too.

“Wait, really?”

“I’m a little offended you didn’t recognize my photographic eye,” she teased, grabbing his hand to pull him along.

“So you know this place then, huh?”

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

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

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

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

Continue Reading on AO3!

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

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

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

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

Chapter 5: Striking Bargains (Dylan POV)

“You need a ride?”

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

“Kinda.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So an apartment, huh?” Dylan asked. 

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

“Bad roommates?” 

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

“That bad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“How long have you been back?”

“Six months.”

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

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

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

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

“That it?” 

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

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

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

“Oh shit!”

“Hmm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow. Nice place.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amelia shook her head. “It’s okay—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amelia laughed and the two of them headed back down. 

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

“It’s perfect, really.” 

“Well, if you like it, it’s yours.”

“That’s amazing!”

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

Dylan watched Amelia look around for a couple of moments. 

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

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

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

“Sure,” Steve said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll probably jus—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome home,” Dylan whispered.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Uh… Hi.” 

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

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

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

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

“Great!” Dylan smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Please.” 

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

“Your meal should be out in no time.” 

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

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

“Amelia?” 

She turned. “Yes?” 

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

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

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

“Only on Saturday,” she replied. 

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

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

Dylan smirked just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” 

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

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

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

“Oh! Wow. Really?” 

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

“Sounds like a lot of fun.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” she asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s totally fine if—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He checked it quickly and dug out his wallet.

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

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

She typed in the total and handed it to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dylan! Hi!” Liz sounded bright and cheerful 

“Hey, Liz. What’s up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Sure!” 

“Thanks. I’ll give you a call soon.” 

“Great. We’ll talk soon!” 

“Bye, Liz.” 

“Bye!” 

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

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

“Car troubles?”

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

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

Chapter 3: Impressions (Amelia POV/Dylan POV)

“Sorry I’m late, A.” 

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

“It’s fine, Bre.” Amelia said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Miss Carter, 

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

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

All the best, 

Stephen Parsons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

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

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

Chapter 6: Hideaways (Amelia POV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

“The nursery?” 

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

“Good,” Dylan chucked.

Continue Reading on AO3! 

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

Thanks everyone! 

Trashy the Trash Panda

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

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

Chapter 2: The Dock Pub (Dylan POV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn’t even opened the menu. “Uh…”

“I’ll come back,” she smiled.

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

“An unfortunate combination,” she grinned. 

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

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

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

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

“Fish and chips sounds great, thanks!” 

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

He smiled. “Thanks.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“No, thanks. I’m all set, I think.” 

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

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

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

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

He smiled back, giving her a thumbs up. 

She nodded with a wink. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Dylan said, a little disappointed. 

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

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

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

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

“I promise, it won’t disappoint.” 

He chuckled. “I like the confidence.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” he replied. “Really good.” 

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

“Still here, huh?” he asked.

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

“Dylan,” he said, with a nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looked mortified. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh. I guess not." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I hope you enjoy your time here." 

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

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

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

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

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

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

Authors Note: If you're reading this, talk to me, baby! And uh, yeah...some stuff happens in the shower *blush*

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

Chapter 10: Anticipation (Dylan POV)

It’s a feeling more than anything really. There’s a comfort in the way the air settles around him, the way it shifts the hair on the back of his neck. There’s a sweetness to the taste in his mouth, like the way the flavour of a cherry lingers when you’re sucking on the pit. She sounds so beautiful when she’s uttering soft adulations, her breath warming his skin. It’s all hazy and soft. Though a washed out blur, only the tiniest details seem clear, the colour of her eyes and the shape of her mouth, the way her skin feels under his fingertips and the rhythmic beating of her heart. No urgency or purpose, just a nagging, pin-prick of want. All of it combining to create a consuming sensation of having everything you need to be sated, but choosing to abstain because the anticipation is as delicious as the meal. Just when he’s ready to take that bite, to devour her whole, his eyes are fluttering open in a room basked in the glow of a mid-day sun.

Dylan woke lying facedown on the mattress, his cheek pressed into his pillow facing the windows, his left leg hiked up his side. He groaned, rolling his hips into the mattress, the pressure of it uncomfortable against the morning wood he’d found himself waking with. He turned over onto his back, looking down at the tent in the blankets, and his head fell onto his soft pillow.

He sighed deep and full as he rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, smacking away the stickiness in his mouth. He pinched down his nose and then dragged his fingers through the scruff on his chin that had grown out enough that it could almost officially be called a beard at this point. He reached over to check the time on his phone: 12:40 pm. He groaned and threw the covers back from his lap and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching out his toes and ankles as he rolled his neck in a slow circle.

Continue Reading on AO3!

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