"You don't survive this world by being honest. You survive by knowing who to lie to—and who's worth telling the truth."
Chapter 21: Tattoo
The apartment smelled like warm sugar and melted chocolate. Hope stood over the stove in one of Stiles' old flannels-too big for her, sleeves rolled up-flipping crepes with practiced ease. Stiles sat on the counter beside her, slicing bananas and strawberries, occasionally dipping one into the chocolate bowl and feeding it to her with a self-satisfied smirk.
"You're gonna run out of fruit before I finish the batter," she warned, chewing on the last strawberry he popped into her mouth.
"Totally worth it," he said, eyes on her like she was the eighth wonder of the world. He leaned forward to wipe a bit of chocolate off the corner of her lip with his thumb, and-without shame-licked it clean. "Besides, feeding you chocolate is basically a summer tradition now."
Hope rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. "You're impossible."
"I'm romantic."
"You're a strawberry thief."
"Semantics."
This tiny apartment had quickly become their sanctuary. Natalie had gifted it to her after walking in on them tangled in bedsheets and what she later referred to-through a wine haze-as "a scene from a horror movie she did not consent to watch." Traumatized and deeply invested in not repeating the experience, she promptly decided her second daughter needed her own place.
Natalie had all but shoved the lease into Hope's hands. That, and the reminder that she was old enough to pay bills and have privacy now.
Hope had moved in during the summer break, not before surviving Lydia's dramatic breakdown.
Lydia had acted like Hope was moving to another continent. She cried, she ranted, she paced. "You're abandoning me!" she had declared, throwing herself on Hope's bed like a Shakespearean widow. Hope had only managed to calm her by promising she could come over whenever she wanted. Lydia had calmed... but not forgiven. She blamed Stiles entirely, glaring at him as though he'd lured Hope away like a seductive siren with sarcasm and too many moles.
And honestly? Stiles kind of enjoyed that.
Summer had been one long dream: late-night drives with the windows down and music blaring, slow mornings where they cooked together and danced barefoot in the kitchen, trips to Beacon Hills Preserve where Hope pretended not to be impressed by how good he'd gotten at lacrosse, lake days with the pack, and one memorable night where they fell asleep under the stars after a bonfire-his hoodie around her shoulders, his arm under her head.
But nothing had prepared her for what he looked like now.
Stiles had let his hair grow out, leaving his buzz cut era behind like it was a cursed chapter in his past. It was thick now, slightly wavy, flopping onto his forehead in the most annoyingly attractive way. He had also started wearing rings for no reason other than they looked cool, and it was becoming a real problem for Hope's ability to function like a sane person.
"You're going with Lydia today?" he asked, peeling a banana and popping a slice into his mouth, totally unaware of the crisis he was creating by existing.
"Yeah." She tried not to stare at his hair. "She's been going on about how passionate love burns out fast and how lovers get clingy-so, you know, she's totally fine and normal."
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "And now she's dragging Allison into her existential spiral?"
"Allison just got back from France. I think she was expecting, like, macarons and movie nights, not Lydia planning a mini-intervention about love addiction."
Stiles grinned. "Great. Meanwhile, I get to go with Scott to a tattoo parlor. He wants something meaningful. Like a wolf paw or a full moon or something painfully on-the-nose."
Hope spun around, spatula in hand. "You're going to a tattoo parlor?"
"Yep."
She crossed her arms, tilting her head with an amused look. "You do know you'll faint at the sight of the needle, right?"
Stiles scoffed. "Excuse me. I've survived kanimas, werewolves, and your death glares. A tattoo needle is nothing."
Hope arched an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"
"Absolutely. If I don't faint, you have to admit I'm tougher than your big, broody werewolf boyfriends."
"And if you do faint?"
"Then you get to tell everyone I screamed like a baby."
Hope extended her hand. "Deal."
They shook on it-then didn't let go. His fingers slowly laced with hers, tugging her closer until their bodies were flush. His mouth found hers, soft and slow, then deeper, his hands sliding to her waist. She gasped into the kiss when he gently lifted her onto the counter, standing between her knees, pressing kisses down her throat.
"You're distracting me from my crepes," she whispered, breathless.
"You distracted me from fruit first," he murmured, lips brushing her skin.
"You weren't even cutting them properly."
"You were the one in my flannel like it's a personal attack."
"You're lucky I like you."
He smirked. "You like me so much."
She rolled her eyes again, tugging his hair playfully. "Your ego's getting out of hand."
He leaned in, his voice low and teasing against her ear. "So is yours, Miss I-Bet-You'll-Faint."
"You will faint."
"We'll see, Miss Confidence."
They were still tangled together, laughing and kissing between stolen strawberries and half-burned crepes, when his phone buzzed on the counter.
Lydia: Tell Hope I'm outside. If she's late, I'm telling Natalie about the whipped cream thing.
Hope groaned. "Why is she like this?"
"First child syndrome," Stiles said solemnly. "She thinks I am the baby that got all the attention when she finally started being emotionally available."
Hope burst out laughing. "God, she's going to murder you."
"She can try. I have the stamina of a man who just survived a summer of you."
They kissed again, this time slower, sweeter. And as she rested her forehead against his, Hope found herself smiling, heart full.
Summer had changed everything-and somehow, she was still falling.
___
Hope barely had time to fix her hair before Lydia stormed into the apartment without knocking, as if she lived there.
"Hope Mikaelson," Lydia announced dramatically, hands on her hips, wearing oversized sunglasses and a designer trench coat in ninety-degree weather. "You are officially on probation for emotional abandonment."
"She's been here for, like, five seconds," Allison muttered behind her, rolling her eyes but grinning. "Hi, Hope."
Hope gave her a quick hug. "Hey! You survived France and Lydia's downward spiral."
"Barely," Allison whispered.
"Excuse me, I've been a pillar of sanity," Lydia declared as she marched into the living room and dropped her purse on the couch like it had wronged her.
"You cried for fifteen minutes because Hope changed her lock screen from a selfie of you two to Stiles," Allison pointed out.
Hope winced. "Okay, to be fair, that was a really cute picture of us."
"It was," Lydia snapped. "And now it's Stiles, shirtless and sweaty, holding a lacrosse stick like some thirst trap."
Hope shrugged. "He was glistening."
"Oh my god," Allison groaned, throwing herself onto the couch.
"You betrayed me," Lydia said, dramatically pointing a manicured finger at Hope. "You moved out. You stopped answering my 2 a.m. texts. You-you made Stiles your emotional support animal."
"He feeds me strawberries and does my laundry," Hope said. "He earned the title."
Lydia looked genuinely offended. "You're replacing me."
"No one could ever replace you," Hope said, walking over and cupping her face. "You're my chaotic fairy queen with dangerous eyebrows and a God complex. But I needed privacy. After Natalie saw us naked, she looked like she aged ten years."
Allison covered her face, laughing. "I heard she started drinking boxed wine after that."
"She gifted me the apartment. Out of trauma."
Lydia huffed but leaned into the touch. "Fine. But I'm still the main character."
Hope grinned. "Obviously."
"All right," Lydia announced. "Let's get this hangout going."
It started with Lydia texting, "We're going out. Dress cute. No questions."
And ended with Hope standing in the middle of an outdoor vintage flea market wearing sunglasses too big for her face and holding a life-sized ceramic cat for reasons even she didn't know.
"This is not what I expected," Hope muttered, carefully dodging a table of knockoff perfume and someone trying to sell a haunted doll for twenty bucks.
"What did you expect?" Allison asked, grinning beside her. "Spa day?"
"Yes," Hope said. "Pedicures. Maybe overpriced smoothies. Not a place that smells like incense, coffee, and capitalism."
"I'll have you know," Lydia chimed in, sashaying through the crowd in designer boots she clearly regretted, "this market is iconic. You can't be a mysterious, ethereal girl without at least one overpriced antique mirror and a cursed necklace."
"You already bought two," Allison pointed out.
"I'm building a collection," Lydia sniffed.
Hope was half-laughing, half-sweating, trying to keep up as the girls dragged her through every stall. Allison bought earrings shaped like tiny swords, Lydia haggled aggressively with a man in a kilt over a vintage music box, and Hope somehow got adopted by a woman named Edna who tried to sell her essential oils for "psychic clarity."
"You have a haunted aura, sweetheart," Edna said, gripping her hand.
"Yeah, that tracks."
Eventually, they made it to a retro arcade-slash-café hybrid, which Lydia insisted on because "neon lights make everyone hotter." The three of them piled into a booth with fries, milkshakes, and absolutely no plan.
Lydia pulled out her phone and began taking selfies. "Say 'Stiles is whipped.'"
"Stiles is-" Hope blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Too late. It's a Boomerang now."
Allison had just started playing DDR in heels and was somehow winning, and Hope stood there cheering her on while also threatening to dropkick a guy who kept bumping into her.
"He smells like Axe and delusion," she muttered under her breath.
"Lydia," Allison called, "tell your wife to stop growling at people!"
"She's feral, what do you expect?"
Hope was red-faced from laughing, tears forming as they sprinted across the street after Lydia insisted they "borrow" the ceramic cat from an unattended booth because "it matched Hope's vibe."
They ended up returning it, guilt and laughter tangled up, and sat on a curb eating churros, hair messy and eyeliner smudged, but hearts full.
"So how's Stiles?" Allison asked with a teasing smirk.
Lydia immediately rolled her eyes. "Still sucking face in every room? Still being all domesticated boyfriend?"
Hope gave her a look. "You sound like a jealous ex-wife."
"She does," Allison said. "Like the first child who got ignored after the baby was born."
"I raised you!" Lydia cried dramatically, pointing a churro at Hope. "And now you're all crepe mornings and Stiles giving you forehead kisses while I rot in my loneliness!"
Hope tried not to laugh. "You FaceTimed me five times yesterday."
"And it still wasn't enough."
They collapsed in a heap of laughter, arms slung over each other, the kind of chaotic sisterhood that made everything okay-even when things weren't.
"I missed this," Hope admitted softly.
"We missed you too," Allison said, reaching for her hand.
"I missed you more," Lydia declared.
And Hope smiled, heart a little lighter, knowing no matter what the future brought, she had this. Chaos and all.
After the chaotic day they had, Lydia still wasn't done. She was now dragging them to some "group thing" that Hope had zero clue about.
Hope's phone buzzed.
Scott: Stiles fainted.
Hope: Did you know he screams like a little baby? ;)
Scott: That information is totally irrelevant.
Hope: Irrelevant, but necessary. Everyone's gonna hear about it. Also, I must say, Scott... you are an incredible friend. <3
Scott stared at his phone, visibly confused. "Hope just said something weird."
Stiles glanced at him, hands on the wheel. "What did she say?"
"That you screamed like a baby. I only told her you fainted. Thought she should know about the bump on your head before she goes all rawr and protective-"
"You what now?" Stiles yelled, his eyes widening.
Scott looked hurt. "Why are you yelling? Did I do something wrong?"
"We had a bet, Scott. She's going to be insufferably smug now-you traitor."
"How was I supposed to know?! But... in fairness, you scream more like a little girl than a baby."
"I WILL THROW YOU OUT OF THE JEEP THIS INSTANT!"
___
"It's not a double date, it's a group thing," Lydia stated, speeding down the dark, empty road. Hope sat in the backseat-shocking, truly-and Allison rode shotgun.
Allison turned toward Lydia with a teasing smile. "Do they know it's a group thing? Because I told you I'm not ready to get back out there."
"You were in France and didn't go on a single date-for four months. Are you insane?"
Allison gave her a side glance. "Did you... I mean, after Jack-"
"Do not say his name," Lydia interrupted sharply.
"We don't say his name," Hope whispered mischievously from the back.
"The doctors looked like complete idiots when he turned up alive. And yes, Derek gave him the whole Werewolf 101: 'How to Not Randomly Murder People on a Full Moon.'"
Allison's lips tugged into a small smile. "So you've talked to him?"
"No. Not since he moved to London," Lydia replied, her voice quieter now. Her mood clearly shifted at the mention of Jackson. It still felt like yesterday-the chaos, the grief, him dying, then coming back as a werewolf.
"You mean since his dad moved him to London," Allison corrected softly.
Lydia sighed. "Whatever. He left. Now he's literally an American Werewolf in London. Like that's not going to be a disaster."
"So you're totally over him?" Allison asked, not entirely convinced.
Lydia's voice rose an octave. "Would I be going on a double date if I wasn't?"
Allison smiled knowingly. "So it is a double date."
"Fine. Yes. It's a double date-not an orgy. You'll live."
Hope raised a brow from the back. "What am I even doing on a double date? Just gonna be the third wheel?"
"They're bringing friends too," Lydia offered. "You can pick one."
"You do realize I have a boyfriend, right?"
"You rub it in my face daily. Of course, I know. But think of it like meeting new people. Expanding your social circle. Making new boy friends."
While they bickered, Allison caught sight of a familiar Jeep beside them.
"Oh my god. Oh my god," she stammered, trying to hide her face. "Lydia, just go."
"It's a red light," Lydia said flatly.
Hope burst into laughter as she noticed both Stiles and Scott also panicking inside the Jeep-Stiles because Hope knew he'd fainted, and Scott because he absolutely could not deal with seeing his ex-girlfriend yet.
Lydia, ever the rule-breaker, ran the red light.
Hope pouted. "Boo. I wanted to enjoy the awkward tension a little longer."
"You okay?" Lydia asked, glancing at Allison.
Allison exhaled shakily. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine."
She looked into the side mirror, clearly rethinking. "Lydia, stop. I need to go back and talk to him."
Lydia obeyed. As her car came to a halt, they noticed the Jeep had stopped too.
"I wonder why they stopped," Allison murmured.
"Probably because Stiles doesn't want anyone to know he screams like a little girl," Hope said casually.
"What?" Allison gaped in horror.
Hope laughed. "Don't worry, I'll explain later."
Lydia rolled her eyes. "It's Stiles and Scott. Do you really want to unpack the logic behind anything they do?"
And then it happened.
A deafening crash. The windshield shattered in a burst of glass and chaos.
Lydia and Allison screamed while Hope instinctively ducked, feeling something sharp slice into her thigh. She blinked through the shock, momentarily stunned as Lydia and Allison scrambled out of the car.
"You two okay?" Hope called, her voice steadier than she felt.
"I'm fine," Allison said, catching her breath. "But... uh, you're bleeding." She pointed at Hope's thigh awkwardly.
Hope looked down, then shrugged. "It'll heal." With a quick wince, she yanked the shard of glass out.
Not long after, Scott and Stiles came running.
Stiles immediately scooped Hope up into his arms, cradling her like she was made of porcelain. His hands cupped her face, eyes frantic as they scanned her for injuries.
"There's blood. Oh my god, there's so much blood. Are you okay? Do you feel faint? What if you pass out from blood loss? What if you die from blood loss? What the hell am I gonna do without you?"
Hope gave him a dry look. "Probably get a new girlfriend."
"Never. You're stuck with me for life."
"Then stop being so dramatic, Romeo. I'm fine."
Lydia cut in, still shaken. "Okay, lovers, not to interrupt your Shakespearean reunion, but what the hell just happened?! That deer came out of nowhere!"
Scott stood by the front of the car, staring at the deer impaled through the windshield.
"It's... terrified," he murmured.
"Terrified?" Lydia echoed. "It charged us like it was possessed!"
"Or being chased," Scott added quietly, brushing his hand over its still fur. "Something scared it. Bad."
He stared into the empty road, unease settling deep in his chest.
Something was coming. And whatever it was... had the forest running.
___
The next morning marked the first day of Junior year. Hope had been hoping-ironically-for a little less supernatural chaos and a bit more of that cliché teenage drama everyone else seemed to get. But when had things ever gone her way?
She walked into school hand in hand with Stiles, rambling animatedly about her summer job at Eichen House.
"-and there's this one guy who won't stop blessing me. Like literally every time I walk by, it's 'you are healed, my child.' He thinks he's Jesus. Actually, three of them think they're Jesus. I'm not even the most interesting person there."
Stiles listened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he opened the classroom door for her.
"Do I bless you now too or...?"
She elbowed him lightly, grinning. "Don't you dare."
Once inside, Stiles pulled out the chair in front of him for her like a gentleman-well, his version of one-and she sat, still caught up in her chaotic monologue as he took the seat behind her.
People gradually began filing into the classroom. Lydia entered, cool and confident as always, and made her way to the seat beside Stiles with a polite smile. Hope gave her a small wave mid-ramble. Then came Allison, who paused for a second when she saw the only empty seat left was directly in front of Scott.
She hesitated-just a flicker of discomfort-but then took the seat like a champ. Scott shifted awkwardly behind her, clearly just as unsure.
Hope, meanwhile, was still talking, but now with one eye on the weird tension starting to brew in the classroom.
"...So yeah, he anointed me with hand sanitizer and called it holy water. Honestly, I respect the creativity."
Stiles chuckled. "And this is what you wanted instead of supernatural drama?"
"Don't judge me-I like my crazy contained to padded walls."
Suddenly, everyone's phones buzzed in unison. A collective rustling echoed through the room as students reached for their devices-some out of habit, others out of pure confusion. An unfamiliar voice echoed through the speakers, reading a line none of them recognized:
"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth, flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness."
Eyes darted around the room in bewilderment until their attention was drawn to the front, where a woman stood smiling gently, a phone still in her hand.
"This," she began, her voice warm and smooth, "is the final line from the first book we'll be reading this year."
She placed her phone on the desk behind her and folded her hands.
"It's also the last text you'll receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."
Ms. Jennifer Blake gave a sweet, almost too-perfect smile. Hope narrowed her eyes slightly, leaning toward Stiles as she muttered under her breath, "We're just not going to talk about the fact that she somehow has all our numbers? Totally normal. Not creepy at all."
Before Stiles could respond with one of his usual quips, Ms. Blake's voice rang out again. "Mr. McCall?"
Heads turned as Scott looked up, surprised.
He gathered his things quickly and followed her into the hallway, leaving behind a trail of murmurs and exchanged glances.
Hope let out a slow breath and turned slightly in her seat, her eyes settling on Lydia. Her gaze lowered, frowning when she noticed the soft pink bandage wrapped around the girl's ankle.
"Lydia?" she whispered, tilting her head.
Lydia looked over with a small smile. "Yes, Hope?"
Hope nodded toward the bandage. "Is that from the accident?"
"No," Lydia replied, shaking her head as her curls bounced around her shoulders. "Prada bit me."
Hope blinked. "Wait-your bag?"
Stiles leaned in, clearly just as thrown. "Your dog?"
Lydia raised a perfectly sculpted brow. "No... my designer handbag. Yes, my dog," she replied with that signature mix of sarcasm and quiet irritation.
"I almost forgot you named your dog, Prada." Hope voiced out.
"Has he ever bitten you before?" Hope asked gently, her tone more concerned than curious.
Lydia hesitated, then shook her head again. "Never. He's usually really sweet. He's never done anything like this."
Stiles immediately jumped into theory-mode. "Okay, but what if this is, like, a sign? You know how animals start acting weird before natural disasters? Like earthquakes?"
Lydia rolled her eyes. "So you think we're getting an earthquake now?"
Hope leaned back in her chair, brows drawn in thought. "It sounds crazy, but... he might be onto something. The deer from last week was acting strange too."
Stiles pointed at her. "Exactly! You see it too!"
Lydia sighed. "A deer and a dog. What's that thing people say about threes? Once, twice-"
A sharp, sickening thud cut her off. Everyone turned to the window.
Blood smeared against the glass.
Hope's breath caught. Her mouth opened slightly. "You have got to be kidding me..."
Ms. Blake walked toward the window in disbelief. Outside, a massive flock of crows was flying straight toward them-fast and unrelenting.
Another smack. Then another. The glass cracked.
A second later, it shattered completely as birds began pouring into the classroom like a living storm.
Screams erupted.
"Get down!" Hope shouted.
She didn't wait-grabbing Lydia's arm, she yanked her down beneath a bench, shielding her as feathers and chaos exploded above them.
Stiles dove down with them, covering them both without hesitation, his body tense as birds shrieked overhead.
Hope's heart pounded. Yeah... so much for a normal Junior year.
____
A/N: If this fiction comes in Top 3 of Fan Fiction Rank, I'll give a mass release (3 chapters in one day) This offer ends in 24 May, 2025. [Basically I'm begging you for power stones (T_T)]