#I hate Mr. Lahey

[spookyblazecoffee]

"I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with a baseball bat And he is screaming and crying for help And maybe halfway through, it has more to do with me killing him Then it ever did protecting myself And I believe that, yeah, Dad, maybe no one is perfect But I believe that you were pushing your luck"

The Lahey brothers and John Winchesters kids

[spookyblazecoffee]

parents are so crazy because they can say the most fucked up shit to you when your brain is forming and it sets the tone for your whole adult mind set and then they forget about it the next day

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it. 

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention. 

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers. 

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you. 

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.” 

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher. 

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach. 

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment. 

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can. 

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical. 

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own. 

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours. 

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits. 

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.” 

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class. 

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly. 

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go. 

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute. 

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident. 

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time. 

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that. 

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation. 

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking. 

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly. 

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better. 

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs. 

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room. 

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty. 

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile. 

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go. 

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are. 

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him. 

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it. 

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door. 

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe. 

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe. 

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind. 

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees. 

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance. 

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature. 

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them. 

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest. 

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet. 

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough. 

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips. 

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink. 

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?” 

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

[savedgame]

I hate Ricky Mr Lahey should’ve killed him

[princeescaluswords]

I always find there's such a stark difference between tgt fans and soc fans, and this is could possibly be because of the way the fandom interprets the texts. Six of crows is a heist novel, about people who aren't chosen ones and just live in Kerch. You don't have to be special to be worthy of getting your story told. Soc fans get that. But Darkling fans? Well, it just *can't* be that Alina chooses to be ordinary over being the Darkling's queen, so she apparently *must* end up with her abuser, even though she does not share his morals; even though she is the antithesis of everything he is because she will never see others' lives as expendable for a greater cause. Alina is compassionate and revels in being the 99%, and Darkling fans seem to hate that. Alina was never meant to be a power fantasy, but for Darkling fans, the idea of being normal was never an option - because to them, why would you not choose to be part of the 1%; why would you not turn this into a power fantasy, even when when the author always intended for tgt to be the opposite?

Unfortunately, I have only seen the Netflix adaptation of the Grishaverse. I don't know what "tgt" stands for. However, I can talk about the unpleasant intersection I find between power, status, and ethics that occurs in fandoms. When I refer back to Alina, the Darkling, and the other characters in the Grishaverse, you should bear in mind that it is constrained by my limited knowledge, and I welcome any correction of what you feel is a misinterpretation.

When it comes to many people in our culture, they may claim to want a good story, but they tend to be quite simplistic in their value systems when they think they're not going to be judged for it. Which means they want power fantasies, instead. The problem, of course, is that power fantasies don't make satisfying stories. It's like trying to survive on a diet consisting solely of cheeseburgers.

Let me give a concrete example. In my primary fandom, Teen Wolf, I recently came across an unlabeled post-season 2 story where Jackson Whittemore -- who, for those who don't know, is white, rich, good-looking, entitled and captain of both the lacrosse and the swim team -- is talking about Scott McCall (the lead protagonist in the show but not this story) in very negative terms, complaining about Scott's lack of decency in not telling Allison Argent that her mother was bitten by Derek Hale, an alpha werewolf, while Mrs. Argent was trying to kill Scott. The bite caused Mrs. Argent to kill herself, and, for a time, Allison blamed Derek for her mother's death.

Now, they set aside the fact that the show made it clear that Scott didn't tell Allison because, by the time he figured out what had happened (he was unconscious when Derek bit Allison's mother), it was already too late to change anything, so Scott decided not to tell Allison so that wouldn't be the last memory she had of her beloved mother. You would think that people would view this as an effort to be kind, right? Wrong!

Fandom sees this as an utter betrayal, because it is Derek Hale's feelings, as a white, rich, god-looking, entitled Alpha Werewolf, that should take precedence over Scott's girlfriend's feelings. It doesn't matter that while Derek did come to Scott's rescue, he had beat, manipulated, lied to, betrayed, and tried to murder innocents under Scott's protection for almost all of the first two seasons.

Also relevant is that this is the same Jackson Whittemore, who witnessed his next-door neighbor "kicking the crap" out of his son, Isaac Lahey, and said nothing about it to anyone. This is the same Jackson Whittemore, who when he got the Bite, dumped his girlfriend and told a homeless man to go die in another parking lot, before turning into a murder lizard slave. This is the same Jackson Whittemore for whom the only solution that Derek Hale managed to come up with when this happened was straight-up murder. This is the same Jackson Whittemore whom Scott fought to save from Derek. There is no hint in this fandom story that Jackson is being a hypocrite or being ungrateful or even aware of the contradiction.

The author chose this. Jackson's signature callousness and selfishness simply vanishes just long enough for him to condemn the person who tried to save him for not wanting to hurt his girlfriend's feelings. Why? Jackson is privileged, and he has that in common with Derek, so it is obvious that Jackson will take Derek's perspective in the matter.

Which brings us back to your example. Alina is the Sun Summoner, a living saint, and incredibly powerful. Of course she's supposed to take the side of the Darkling, who is also incredibly powerful. His creation of a slave caste for his kind, his manipulation and murder of countless others, and his creation of the Shadow Fold poisons her nation. This is irrelevant to power fantasy, where power should make her perspective identical to his.

In the modern day, our culture certainly talks about the dangers of the elite, but fandom gives its participants the way to celebrate a freedom from the ethical consideration when it comes to personal power. To them, since fiction =/= reality, they can indulge in their lust for power and status regardless of the consequences. To them, there is no reason for Scott McCall to value Derek Hale's feelings above Allison Argent's; Derek is more powerful, richer, and better looking (and a guy!) so Scott should choose Derek's side. To them, there is no reason that the Sun Summoner will choose a course in life that will prevent her power from corrupting her; if she allowed herself to be corrupted, she'd have all the status of the Darkling.

The problem they have is that the artists behind both the Grishaverse and Teen Wolf, which you are free to consider trivial, still examined the world around them and came to the conclusion that power doesn't supersede the necessity for ethical thought. In other words, the artists realized that power fantasies might give momentary pleasure, but in the end, they don't produce meaningful stories.

Some people have a problem with that.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @nostalgiafan123!

I hope you like it <3

*****

Who you think we are

Dear Mr. Harris,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it is that we did wrong. * Paul Lahey pulls to a stop in front of Beacon Hills high and turns to his son “Is this the last time we do this?” he asks in a quiet, even voice. Isaac stares at his dirty beat-up sneakers and when his father raises his hand Isaac flinches in surprise and knocks his head against his window.

Paul only rests his hand on Isaac’s shoulder, almost as if he hadn’t meant to frighten his son. “Answer me.” He says squeezing Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac thinks it’s funny how his father demands he be in control of his emotions and put up with Paul’s bullshit. It somehow didn’t count when Paul was never in control of himself.

Hate welled up for his father, but quickly faded.

“Last.” Isaac manages as he quickly pulls the door open and slips out of the car.

He fucking hated himself.

Read on AO3

[neurodivergent-fox-demon]

Stackson Week Day 4

The Bleeding Hearts Club

Rating: mature

Other tags: trans lydia, Derek Hale/ Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey/Scott Mccall/Allson Argent , Peter Hale/Chris Argent, Minor Character Death

triggers: fighting, drug use

Please let me know if I need to add any more tags.

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 4: Anxious and Afraid

Stiles chuckled, as he sat next to Isaac and Scott. “Hello, my wonderful friends, that I never see anymore.” 

Scott raised a brow at him. “I thought you were not allowed to leave the house?” He leaned back in Isaac’s arms, smiling at his friend. 

“Dad is at work and what he does not know won’t hurt him.” He leaned back and lit a cigarette. “I just wanted to see the world outside the house for a little while. Don’t tell me that you aren’t happy to see me.”

Scott chuckled. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble.” He pushed over a plate of brownies. “Allison made these. Enjoy one.” 

Stiles grabbed one, taking a bite. “So… things are going well between you three?” 

Isaac giggled. “Don’t eat with your mouth full, Stiles.” He kissed the top of Scott’s head. “We’re doing great. How are you and Jackson doing?” 

Stiles hummed as he finished his brownie. “We’re great, I guess. Mostly we just sit in his room and watch movies. Sometimes we make out a bit, but I’m not really sure what we are right now.” He bit lip. “At least I am comfortable knowing that his father completely hates me.” 

Scott shook his head. “He’s a fool. No one should hate you.” He pushed his shoulder softly. “But you like Jackson, right?” 

Stiles nodded, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’ve never actually liked anyone like this before.” He smiled softly. “He’s kind of perfect.”  

Isaac giggled. “Yeah, a couple weeks ago you were calling him a rich entitled nerd.” 

Stiles groaned, wiping his face. “Don’t remind me. I was wrong, okay?”

Scott nodded. “He seems to have a good influence on you. You haven’t done a single drug since you got back. I am surprised I don’t even smell weed wafting off you.” 

Stiles shrugged. “Jackson doesn’t like the smell.” He put his cigarette out in the grass. “I should go. I just wanted some fresh air, but I need to be home when dad gets home. Jackson wants to go out tomorrow and I have to grovel to dad, and hope he will be lenient.” 

Scott chuckled. “Get out of here, Stiles. I hope it works out. Jackson sounds great. He was very polite at Chris’s dinner. Hey, try to see if your dad will allow you out Saturday. Allison is cooking this time.” 

Stiles nodded, grinning. “Maybe he’ll let me off for good behavior.” He grabbed another brownie and got up, walking back home. 

📚

Jackson stepped into the sheriff’s station and looked around. He smiled walking up to the reception desk. “May I please speak with the sheriff please?” 

The woman looked up at him smiling. “Let me see if he is available, hun. Is it an urgent matter?” 

Jackson chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “It really depends on what you consider urgent, but I guess not. I’m kind of dating his son.” 

Tara laughed softly. “Oh you’re Jackson. The sheriff talks about you all the time. Let me just call him.” She picked up a phone on her desk and pressed a button. “Sheriff. There is a nice young man here. He looks like he just might melt into the floor in a blob of nerves.” She chuckled, winking at Jackson. 

Jackson laughed, blushing deeply. “Oh my god…” He licked his lips as the sheriff poked his head out of his office. “Hello, Mr. Stilinski.” 

“Get in here, Jackson, before you cause the entire station to riot.” Noah laughed, mock glaring at the deputies. “Get back to work.” 

Jackson nodded, rushing over to the office. “Of course, Sheriff.” 

Noah closed the door behind them. “None of that. You can call me Noah. What can I do for you, Jackson?” He smiled, pouring them both a cup of coffee. “You look terrified. Calm down.” He sighed as he handed the teenager the coffee. 

Jackson nodded, holding the coffee close. “I’m, I know that Stiles is still grounded, but I had hoped… am hoping that you would allow me to take him on a proper date.” He squeaked out the end of his sentence. 

The sheriff chuckled, shaking his head. “Is that all you wanted? Calm down kid. Let me think. Allison called asking me to allow him to go to dinner Saturday night, and you want him to go on a date with you?” The sheriff sat at his desk, staring at the boy for a moment. “Okay. I think he can get a couple of days reprieve, for good behavior. You can take him out Friday evening, but I want him back by 11pm. You pick him up and drop him off on my doorstep. Do you mind taking him to this dinner at Allison’s” 

Jackson grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. He cringed looking at his cup. “That is bloody awfull.” He chuckled. “I agree to all your terms, sir. I just thought I’d take him to dinner and a movie.” 

“Alright, but I am not asking him out for you. Why don’t you go over to the house and ask him yourself.” The sheriff chuckled, winking at him. “One more thing, no drinking, drugs, or sex.” 

Jackson squeaked and nodded. “God no, sir. I don’t drink or do drugs… I’m not sure I’m ready for sex. The farthest we’ve gotten is kissing.”  

Noah nodded. “Just establishing the rules. Do not worry, kid. Get out of here.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Jackson hopped up. He put the cup of coffee on the desk and ran out of the station. He headed straight to Stiles’s house, and rang the bell. 

Stiles answered the door and leaned against the frame. “Well, hello, beautiful.” He reached out and took his hand. “Don’t know why you are here, but you are a sight for sore eyes.” 

Jackson grinned, kissing him softly. “I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner and a movie with me, Friday night.” 

Stiles pouted. “I would love to, but I’m grounded. My father would never go for it.” 

Jackson chuckled. “I already got his permission. He also said I can take you to Allison’s Saturday night. That is two nights you have free.” 

Stiles chuckled. “You are amazing. Thank you. I would love to go on a date with you, babe.” He pulled him into another kiss and sighed happily. “Why don’t you stay and watch a movie?” 

Jackson grinned. He could not believe how happy Stiles made him. He did not think it was possible to be this happy. “If I do that, I doubt we’ll watch the movie.” 

“Is that a problem?” Stiles grinned, pulling him into the house. “You can’t leave me here all alone. I’m so lonely, Jackson.” He sighed, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so dramatic, Stiles.” Jackson laughed and pulled him into a passionate kiss. He groaned, letting Stiles’s tongue into his mouth. 

Stiles whimpered as they fell to the couch, with Jackson on top of him. He wrapped his arms around the other boy and lost himself in the kiss. He could almost forget about all trouble in his life at that moment. It felt entirely too soon when Jackson pulled away from the kiss. Stiles flushed, tracing his cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

Jackson grinned and kissed his neck. “Thank you. You are too. I really like you, Stiles.” He kissed up his jaw line and smiled, hearing him sigh. “I love these moments.” 

Stiles groaned letting his head fall back. “I like you too, Jackson. Don’t ruin it by talking.” He gripped Jackson’s hair, pulling him back into a kiss. 

Jackson groaned, shifting his hips. He whimpered, feeling Stiles hard under him. “Fuck…” He pulled away and sat next to Stiles. “I… I’m sorry.” He shook his head, trying to calm himself down. 

Stiles frowned, staring up at him. “What’s wrong?” He sat up and kissed him, softly. 

Jackson shook his head. “I just need a minute to cool down.” He blushed, looking over at him. “You know that I like you… I have never felt like this for anyone, but I’m not ready for sex, Stiles.” 

Stiles raised a brow at him. “I never said anything about Sex, Jackson. I would never push you.” 

“You didn’t. Your father did. He said that he did not want any drinking drugs or sex on the date Friday.” He chuckled. 

Stiles groaned, pulling his hair. “Fuck. That must have really freaked you out. I’m Sorry Jackson.” He chuckled softly. “Jackson, babe, I’m not ready sex either. If I didn’t care about you, I probably would have brought the topic up already, but I am actually hoping this relationship goes somewhere beyond sex.” 

Jackson nodded, chuckling softly. “I’m such a disaster at this type of thing. I felt you were hard and totally freaked out.” 

Stiles grinned, smirking softly. “I’m sorry. I think that is the body's proper reaction when my hot boyfriend is laying on top of me.” 

Jackson chewed his lip. “Boyfriend?” 

Stiles blushed, looking away from Jackson for a moment. “I didn't mean to say that.” He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. “I kind of… I guess we are boyfriends.” He looked back at Jackson. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, you have to understand-“ 

Jackson grinned and kissed him. “No, it’s fine.” He bit his lip, laughing. “I would really love to be your boyfriend, and we can learn together what that means.” 

Stiles smiled, blushing. “So, you’re okay with the whole boyfriend thing, and taking it slow?” 

Jackson nodded. “Of course I’m okay, Stiles. We’ve only been dating for two weeks.” He gripped his hand, kissing the back. “So… you promised a movie. I am sure that your father will not mind if I stay a bit longer.” 

Stiles grinned. “Great idea. Dad just got a new copy of Blade runner.” 

“Sounds wonderful.” Jackson smiled and kissed him, moaning as they began leaning back on the couch. 

Stiles chuckled, pulling away. “You keep doing that and we’ll never watch that movie.” 

Jackson groaned. “You’re right.” 

📚

Stiles chuckled, plucking a cherry tomato from Allison’s salad. Allison slapped his hand. “You steal another tomato Stilinski and I will cut your hand off, next time.” 

Stiles grinned, plopping the tomato into his mouth. “It’s not my fault that you chose the tomatoes that I enjoy the best.” He jumped off the counter and kissed her cheek. “So, how can I help?”

Allison smiled and rolled her eyes. “Wow, you’re offering to help? What have you done with Stiles?” She tossed him a box. “Preheat the oven and put the garlic bread in the oven.” 

Stiles smiled, reading the instructions on the box. “Sorry if I am in a good mood?” 

“Hmm,” Allison chuckled. “Does Jackson have anything to do with this good mood?” She leaned against the counter as she watched him. Dinner was near completion and she was actually getting a little tired. She had no idea how her father did this every week. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in years.” 

“He might.” Stiles sighed, thinking about his boyfriend, who was sitting in the living room with all his friends. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.” He chewed his lip. “You all like him, right? I know I was such an asshole about him last time, but I was wrong. I really like him.” 

Allison laughed. “Listen to you. Don’t worry. We love him.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. “Just like we love you. Now put that garlic bread in the oven. So it can cook while the spaghetti sauce simmers.” 

Stiles nodded as he did what he was told. Peter walked into the kitchen. “So, Stiles, you are just leaving your new boyfriend to the wolves while you are hanging in the kitchen with my daughter?” 

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. “I’m sure he is surviving. It’s not like he hasn’t met all of you.” 

Peter leaned against the counter with his arms crossed in front of him. “Ah, but now he is your boyfriend. You are letting the boy you like sit with the people who know all the most embarrassing stories about you.” 

“Oh my god.” Stiles gasped, running out the kitchen with Peter laughing behind him. Stiles skid into the living room where everyone was playing cards against humanity. “Hey, babe. What are you guys talking about?” He kissed his cheek and sat next to him. “Deal me in?” 

Jackson leaned against him and sighed. “Nothing significant. We were just talking about graduation.” He nuzzled his neck and kissed the hickey he had given Stiles the night before. “And what our plans were before we all split up in the fall.” 

Stiles hummed. “I think I am going to the police academy.” 

Jackson stared at him. They had not really talked about that yet. “Really? I thought you wanted to go into forensics?” 

Stiles shrugged. “If I work at the station with dad, I can study and work up to forensics. Maybe I can help build a forensic department for our sheriff’s station.” 

Jackson grinned and pulled him into a kiss. “That sounds amazing.”

Stiles nodded. “Chris said that if I graduate, he’d help me pay for school. I just have to study and stay clean.” 

Jackson wrapped him in a hug and kissed him passionately. They pulled apart when the others around them made choking noises. Stiles flipped them off and sighed. “Come on. I know where Peter and Chris keep the wine. Dinner will be done soon and Allison will want a good wine to pair with her spaghetti.” 

Jackson nodded, and stood up with him. “I’m sure she has already chosen the wine, luv.” He chuckled as he followed him down to the wine cellar. He had no idea why he was arguing when he knew that Stiles was just finding an excuse for them to make out. 

Stiles grinned as he turned, wrapping his arms over his shoulders. “Shut up and kiss me.” 

“So bossy.” Jackson grinned, kissing him lovingly. “Hmm, I am starting to believe that you cannot go an afternoon without kissing me.” 

Stiles hummed, kissing his jaw. “I certainly am starting to believe that. You are addictive, babe.” He trailed kisses over his neck, letting out a soft sigh. “I could eat you up,” 

Jackson whimpered and leaned against the wall as he got lost in the sensations his boyfriend was sending through him. “Stiles… You are terrible.” He chuckled. Pulling him into a hungry kiss. His hands ran over his sides and gripped his ass. 

Stiles groaned into the kiss and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Jackson. He never thought he would feel like this and he never wanted it to stop. The world was spinning but it felt like Jackson was holding him steady.  He let out a long moan and kissed over his neck, as his back hit the door to the cellar. 

Jackson heard a door slam and pulled away. “Did you hear that?” 

Stiles was kissing over his neck. “Hear what?” 

Jackson put him down. “I think the door is closed.” 

Stiles looked around and panicked. “Oh, no,no,no.” He ran forward and tried to open the door. “Bloody hell, No” He slammed his hands on the door and leaned his head against the door frame. “This door cannot be opened from the inside. It’s a safety precaution.” 

“Why would that be safe?” Jackson pulled out his phone and held it up trying to get a signal. 

“In case of a fire or something like that happening upstairs. It’s a bomb shelter that Chris converted into a wine cellar.” He gasped, sliding down the door, and pulling his legs up to his chest. “Oh my god… I can’t do this.” 

Jackson sat in front of him, and took his hands. “Luv, it’ll be okay. I’ll just get a phone signal somehow and I’ll call Levi to get us out of here. If I can’t do that, they know we are down here.” He kissed his hands and sighed. “They will come get us before dinner is served.” 

“We are locked in here.” Stiles whimpered, looking around, eyes growing a bit wild. He was not good with closed spaces, and he was not able to really listen to what Jackson was saying, “The door doesn’t open.” 

Jackson gripped his chin and kissed his forehead. “Look at me, luv. It’s okay. Someone will know we are missing and open the door for us.” He was really starting to worry about his boyfriend. “Let me know you are listening to me, luv.” 

Stiles shook his head as he started shaking. He let Jackson pull him into his lap. “The door is locked.” He buried himself in the other man’s neck. 

Jackson carried him to the other side of the room and sat him in a chair. “Okay, Luv, I need you to breathe with me.” He grabbed a random bottle of champagne and pulled the cork, handing the bottle to stiles. “Take a drink.” He wasn’t really sure how to handle someone who was in the throes of a panic attack. 

Stiles took the bottle and began gulping down the champagne. 

“Whoa, not so fast.” Jackson sighed, pulling the bottle away. “Can you look at me, my love?” 

Stiles looked into his eyes. “The door is locked.” 

Jackson nodded. “Yes it is, but everything is going to be okay. We are safe here.” 

“I don’t like this.” Stiles pulled out a pack of cigarettes and looked around as he lit one. He felt like the world was slowly coming back to him, but he was still having trouble focusing on anything but the fact that they were locked in a very small room. “What the bloody hell was I thinking?” 

Jackson chewed his lip, sitting in front of him. “We weren’t exactly thinking. We were kind of lost in making out.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry I got you into this. I kind of lose my mind around you.” 

Stiles chuckled nervously, wiping his eyes. He took another swig of the champagne and sighed. “You make me go crazy, Jackson. All I want to do is kiss you and have you touching me” He pecked his lips. “And now we are locked in a fucking room the size of a broom closet.” 

“Hey, it’s bigger than that, luv.” He cupped his cheek, kissing him lovingly. “You really don’t like small spaces, huh?” 

Stiles shook his head, resting their foreheads together. “I don’t like feeling trapped. I don’t like walls with no way to escape.” 

Jackson nodded, holding him close. “Don’t think about the walls. We’re back on campus, sitting on our bench. The wind is blowing the leaves around us as I kiss you.” Jackson smiled. 

Stiles chuckled and closed his eyes, relaxing in his arms. “And then Mr. Harris will badger us because we are committing the greatest of sins, public displays of affections.” He grinned, kissing his neck.

Jackson laughed, running his hand through his hair. “Oh, how scandalous.” He kissed him softly. “And then I’ll end up in detention with you at lunch. 12 years of education and not a single detention. All ruined because I simply cannot resist kissing my boyfriend.” 

Stiles groaned, kissing his neck. “You are such a nerd. Why do I love you again?” He froze looking at Jackson. “I mean… shit.” 

Jackson shook his head and sighed. “Please don’t freak out, Stiles.” He squeezed his hand and sighed. “It was a simple slip of the tongue. I understand if you are not ready for that particular sentiment.” 

Stiles groaned. “We;ve been dating for like two weeks. I really like you, but I don’t think we are ready for that.” 

Jackson nodded, kissing him softly. “Then not saying that just yet.” He grinned at him. “Conflict averted.” 

Stiles chuckled. “You are entirely too reasonable.” He sighed, resting his head on Jackson’s shoulder. He looked up as the door was opened. 

Chris popped his head in. “Dinner’s ready. Did you guys close this door? You know it can’t be opened from the inside?” 

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I understand that, Mr. Argent.” He got up and took Jackson’s hand, leading him up the stairs. “Thank you.” He blushed, looking into Christopher’s eyes. 

Chris nodded, patting his shoulder. “No problem. Maybe you shouldn’t go down to the cellar to make out?” 

Jackson smiled at the man. “Trust me, we’ve learned our lesson.” He followed Stiles back into the kitchen and smiled as they took their seats. 

Stiles looked around the table smiling. “This looks delicious, Allison.” He sighed as he began to eat. He was not really sure what else to say. They had been locked in the cellar for what felt like hours but they were probably only in there for minutes. 

📚

Stiles stood in Peter’s office, pacing in front of his desk. “You have got to fix that cellar door. I… damn. I freaked out in front of Jackson, and he was… dammit, he was so bloody perfect.” He looked up at the professor and sighed. “I fell apart and he stayed so level headed.” 

Peter raised a brow. “Why are you talking to me about this? Look kid, maybe Jackson is good for you. You haven’t come to me once since you started dating that kid. Sit down, Stiles. We have a few things to talk about.” 

Stiles sighed and nodded as he sat down. “That does not sound promising.” 

Peter chuckled. “You disappeared for 10 days worrying the fuck out of all of us. You went to London, with my drugs and about a thousand dollars of my money.” Peter growled. “I’m pissed.” 

“Oh god.” Stiles groaned. At least he knew where he had gotten the money for the hotel. “I’ll pay you back, Peter.” 

Peter nodded. “You will, but you will never pull a stunt like that again. Do we understand each other?” 

Stiles sighed, running a hand over his face. “I understand. Why haven’t you brought this up before now?” 

“Because I hadn’t gotten you alone yet.” Peter growled. “You know I keep this part of my life out of the school, and that Chris can never know about it.” 

Stiles shrunk under his glare, nodding. “ I got it. How do I plan to pay you back?” 

Peter sighed. “Well, seeing that I plan to never let anyone else find out about this little side project, I want you in class every day, for at least one of your free periods, helping me to go through my research. I think that sounds fair. That is just a start.” 

“Of course, Peter.” Stiles groaned. “Anything else?” 

“Stay out of my shit, Stiles. I thought I could trust you. Chris came dangerously close to figuring out where you get your shit.” Peter sighed. “I can’t do this anymore. I thought if you got it from me, I could keep you safe… but you proved me wrong by running off like that.” 

Stiles chewed his lip, nodding. “I’m going to stay clean.” 

Peter ruffled his hair. “You better kid. Get out of here so your boyfriend can take you home.” 

Stiles nodded as he got up and ran out of the office. He met up with Jackson. “Can you take me home now?” 

“Sure, luv.” He took his hand and led him out to the Porsche. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just another lecture about running off and how I need to stay clean.” Stiles sighed. “

Jackson kissed his hand. “They just really care about you.” 

Stiles chuckled. “I’m just not really sure about that sometimes.” 

Jackson smiled. “I am. They love you.” 

📚

Stiles stood outside campus and looked up at the Latin etched into the side of the building. One month, he had to survive this hell hole for one more month. He walked into the building, making his way through the halls. It was Saturday, so there were not that many students here. He found his way to Mrs. Martin’s office and knocked on the door. 

The professor opened the door, smiling at him. “Come in, Stiles. It is nice to see you.” She gestured at a chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat please.” 

Stiles smiled at her as he sat down. “Levi said you wanted to see me.” 

She nodded, sitting behind her desk. “Yes, don’t worry. You are not in trouble. It’s the opposite, really.” She pulled his file in front of her and sighed. “In the last month, you have shown remarkable improvement. I have no doubt that you will pass my class, if you keep up the good work.” 

Stiles blushed, pushing the hair out of his face. “Jackson has been a tremendous help. I know that I have been a real asshole this last year.” 

Mrs. Martin chuckled. “Stiles, I understand that you have been through a lot, and you are Levi’s best friend. I never wanted you to fail.” She studied him for a few moments. “You have a month and two exams until graduation. I trust that you can make us all proud?” 

Stiles smiled, nodding. “I plan on it. Professor Martin.” 

“Call me Natalie, Stiles.” She let out a long breath. “I have one more point to cover with you and this was a request from your father.” She stood up and handed him a business card. “You are going to start seeing the school psychiatrist starting Monday. This is non negotiable. Your father has told me that if you do this, he will lift your grounding.” 

Stiles groaned, taking the card. “I really have to do this? You’re serious.” 

Natalie nodded. “We want the best for you. You have to get over this hill that is blocking your path.” 

Stiles puffed out a breath, pouting. “I already have tutoring, helping Peter with his research project, classes, and homework. How am I supposed to fit this into my schedule?

She grinned at him. “You will figure it out. I have faith in you.” 

Stiles glared at her for a moment before nodding. “Can I go now?” 

“Of course, Stiles. Call me if you need anything.” She patted his shoulder. 

“Whatever.” He sighed, leaving the office. He walked to the library to meet Jackson. 

Jackson looked up, grinning as Stiles sat in front of him. “How was your meeting with Professor Martin?”

Stiles shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table. “She just wanted to let me know I have been doing much better in her class.” He chuckled, bitterly. “And that I am no requires to attend meetings with the school psychiatrist.” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “As if I don’t already have a full schedule.” 

Jackson reached over and took his hand. “Hey, You and I can meet anytime that you are available.” He smiled, running his thumb over his palm. “Don’t you think it’ll be good for you to talk to someone?” 

Stiles glared at him for a moment. “No, I talk plenty, with you and Levi, but my father said that he would only lift my punishment if I see the psychiatrist.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So, I guess I’ll be talking to this unknown person who knows nothing about me.”

Jackson groaned. “Stiles, Levi and I do not have the education or experience to really help you, the way that you need. I do not mind listening to you and comforting you, but I want you to be able to get the help you need.”

”And do you really think I want that? I know that I have screwed up, but I don’t need all this crap.” He stood, straightening his jacket. “I’ve been clean for over a week, and I’ve started cutting back on the cigarettes.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t know, letting them judge me.” 

“She won't judge you Stiles. Her job is to listen without judgment and to give you advice to manage your past trauma.” Jackson sighed. 

“Fuck that. I don’t need to manage anything, Jackson.” He groaned, shaking his head. “I’ll call you later.”  

Jackson stood and reached for his hand. “Stiles, please don’t leave like this. I just want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy. Why can’t you all get that?” He let out a breath. “As happy as I am going to get…as happy as I deserve.” 

Jackson shook his head. “That is what I’m talking about. You don’t think you deserve happiness? Luv. Just go see the psychiatrist. If nothing else, it’ll allow me and you to go out without having to ask your dad every time.” 

Stiles nodded. “Fine, I really do need to go. I’ll call you.” He kissed Jackson and smiled. 

Jackson smiled. “See you Monday.” 

📚

Jackson flipped through the college guide for oxford and took a few notes. Someone sat in front of him at the café table and he looked up. “Oh, hello sheriff.” He put the book aside and took a sip from his latte. “What can I do for you?”

The man smiled at him. “Can I ask you an invasive question?” 

Jackson raised a brow, and nodded. “Yes… I can’t guarantee I will answer.” 

”Of course, I just need to talk to you about Stiles.” He nodded at the waitress as he accepted his coffee. “Do you see you and Stiles getting serious?” 

Jackson chuckled. “I’m not sure, Sir. We’ve been seeing each other for less than a month.” He chewed his lip, thinking. “I really care about him, and he seems to like me. I… can I be frank with you?” The sheriff nodded and Jackson took a deep breath. “It’s too early to guarantee anything, and I leave for Oxford at the end of the summer. Stiles doesn’t need me. He needs something more stable, and I’m not sure what my father will say when he finds out I’m dating a man, much less someone who is a drug addict.” 

Noah frowned, staring at him a moment while he tried to gather his thoughts. “You haven’t told your father about Stiles?” 

Jackson shook his head, blushing. “I don’t exactly know how to approach the subject with him. He knows I’ve been spending a lot of time with Stiles, but I don’t know how to tell him that I’m… Well am I gay, or bisexual… I don’t know.” He groaned, wiping his face. I’ve never dated before. I’ve never really been attracted to anyone before Stiles.” He let out a breath. “I never want to hurt him, but am I really what he needs? But what if I fall completely in love with him and it doesn’t work out? And my father will lecture me on-“

”Hey, hey, calm down, Jackson.” Noah sighed. “”You know, you don’t have to have everything figured out, right now?” 

Jackson looked at him, a little panicked. “I’ve never not had everything figured out for me. Everything was always planned out for me by my father. Stiles is wild and unpredictable. I am falling in love with him and… I want it to be serious, but he might never want that.” 

The sheriff nodded. “I like you Jackson. You’re a good kid. David is a good man. He’ll love you, no matter who you love.” He took a long drink from his coffee. “This is pretty good coffee. It’s much better than the station.” He chuckled. “As far as Stiles goes, both of you are very young. Stiles needs to focus on healing, and you need to focus on who you are, outside of your parents. Just try not to take anything too seriously.” 

Jackson nodded. “”Sorry to unload all of that on you.” 

Noah smiled. “It’s alright, kid. I know what it’s like to be in a new relationship, even if it’s been 20 years.” He chuckled. “I’m just worried that Stiles will do something stupid if he gets too overwhelmed.”

Jackson nodded. “He’s upset about being forced to go to see a psychiatrist.” 

The sheriff nodded. “I’m afraid that I will not yield on that. He needs to talk to someone who has the knowledge and experience to help him. I appreciate all you have done for my boy, but you are not a trained expert.” 

“I understand, sir.” Jackson smiled at the sheriff, fixing his hat and glasses. “I will try to make sure he doesn’t get too overwhelmed.” He looked at his watch and sighed. “I really should get  back to campus to meet Stiles for our tutor session. Do you mind if I take him to dinner afterwards?” 

The sheriff shook his head. “Not at all. Have an enjoyable evening.” He dropped his hands on the table. “Well, I guess I should be going too. The station does not run itself.” 

Jackson nodded and shook his hand. “We should talk again, sir. Thank you.” He blushed softly as he grabbed his bag and walked out of the café. He could not believe he had just had that conversation with his boyfriend’s father. He knew he had to talk to his own father about his relationship with Stiles, but he was really not sure where to start. 

📚

Stiles laughed as he and Jackson were swinging at the park. “You were really ambushed by my dad at the coffee shop?” 

Jackson chuckled, shrugging as a blush covered his cheeks. “I would not really call it an ambush. He just wanted to know where you and I stand, as far as a relationship goes. I told him that we’ve only been going out for a month. I can’t really answer that question.” 

Stiles stopped swinging and kissed him softly. “Did you want something more serious?” 

“Stiles, I leave for oxford at the end of the summer. Do you want something more?” Jackson blushed, twisting his swing. He really did not want to have this conversation again today, or to be rejected. “I really don’t know what I want.” 

Stiles licked his lips and groaned, looking up at the moon. “Honestly Jackson. I don’t know either. I’m not sure if I am ready for a serious relationship. Can’t we just have fun for now?” He stared into Jackson’s eyes and smiled. “Do you hate me for that?” 

Jackson shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. You are being perfectly reasonable Stiles.” He got up and stood up to kneel in front of Stile’s swing. “We’ve known each other for a month and I don’t know where this is going. We can just enjoy each other’s company for as long as we still feel comfortable doing so.” 

Stiles grinned and kissed him lovingly. “Sounds perfect, babe.” He plucked his hat off his boyfriend’s head and put it on his own. “Kiss me like you miss me.” 

Jackson laughed, pulling him into a hungry kiss. 

📚

Jackson opened his dorm door and his father walked in. “Oh. Hello father.” He grinned and opened the door for the older man to come inside. “What can I do for you today?” 

David grinned. “Just checking in. How are you doing?” He sat at his son’s desk, looking around the room. “Just another month in this room and then you get to graduate.” 

Jackson nodded, sitting on his bed. “I guess so. I’m doing alright. I actually was thinking about talking to you. I need to tell you something.” He sighed and began cleaning his glasses. “I’ve started seeing someone.” 

“Oh, that is great. What’s her name? We’re going to have to have her over for dinner.” His father chuckled, slapping his knee. “I’m sure your mother will love to make a night of it.” 

Jackson blushed, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. His name is Stiles… I understand if you are upset with me, but-” 

His hand held his hand up and shook his head. “So.. you’re telling me that you’re gay?”

Jackson coughed and shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure. I just know that I am attracted to Stiles.” 

His father sighed, running his hand over his face. “Jackson. You are a young man, and that comes with a certain amount of experimentation. I am not going to deny you that right, but does it have to be Stiles?” He chuckled nervously. 

Jackson raised a brow at him. He was not really sure how he was supposed to take that question. “You really don’t know him, father. He’s had a hard year and a half, but he really is a nice guy, once you get past the stupid mistakes.” He shook his head. “But if you knew the reasons behind the stupid mistakes, you wouldn’t be so hard on him.” 

David shook his head, glaring at his son. “He’s a drug addict and a punk. I don’t care if you want to be gay, Jackson. I just don’t want you dating him.” 

Jackson got up to pace the room. “I can’t believe you are acting like this. You don’t know him, and… I don’t know if I’m gay, but even if I were, it’s not something you just choose to be.” He let out a long breath, rubbing his eyes. “I really like Stiles, father. You don’t have to like it, but I would like you to at least accept it.” 

David nodded, looking at the far wall. “He’s not good enough for you, Jackson. I don’t see this fling lasting past the summer. And imagine how a relationship with him will look for your political career. Being gay is not political suicide, as it used to be, but who you're with can still be used as a weapon against you.” 

Jackson shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, Stiles and I have already talked about that. We agree with you on that point.” Jackson chuckled, shaking his head. Dad, I don’t care about a political career. That has always been your dream for me. So, are you okay with this?” 

The man nodded, looking up at his son. “The political talk is not over. We can discuss that later. If I catch you doing drugs with this punk, I will press full charges on the both of you.” The man growled. “And you’ll be putting your entire academic career in danger. Your reputation will never recover.” 

Jackson sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Have a little faith in me. I would never touch drugs, and Stiles is in recovery. He hasn't done any drugs in weeks. He’s actually a pretty good guy, father. He just hit a rough patch in life.” 

David raised a brow at him. “Exactly my point. He had a year and a half of bad choices and they will follow him the rest of his life. Don’t let this fling bring you down with him.” 

Jackson chewed his lip, nodding. “And if it turns into more than just a fling, as you put it?” 

David groaned, shaking his head. “Don’t let it, Jackson. If you want to spend your life with a man, that is fine, but not Stiles. Have your fun now, but there comes a time when you have to get serious and settle down with someone respectable.” 

“And respectable is someone you approve of, father? I can’t believe I am seeing this side of you. You are judging Stiles without really knowing him.” 

David sighed. “You have known this boy for a month. I’ve known him for five years. He had such a promising future and he threw it all away for a few drugs.” 

“He lost one of his best friends, father. He did not know how to deal with it.” Jackson growled. “Maybe if some had reached out to him….” He threw his hands up in the air. “You are looking at him from the surface. People are deeper than that.” 

The man nodded, sighing. “I know about Erica. The event was… how do I say this? All the parents talked about it when it happened. Stiles and his friends went up to the cliffs and got drunk. Erica tripped and fell. It was none of their fault, but it happened.” 

Jackson growled. “You knew and you did nothing to help Stiles?” 

David stared at him. “What was I supposed to do Jackson? I offered him an ear to talk to. I sent him to the school counselor, but he refused all help. Then he started acting out. I did all I could.” 

Jackson shook his head. “He was hurting. I have learned more about the human capacity to hurt in the last month than I have in 18 years. I really care about Stiles and I really don’t want it to end after the summer.” 

David sighed. “I don’t have the right to choose who you love, Jackson. But make sure that he is the right choice. You deserve the best, and to be happy. If he makes you happy. I guess I have nothing else to say.” 

Jackson smiled, tears filling his eyes. “Thanks, dad.” He nodded, chewing his lip. “I guess that’s it. I did not want to fight you on this.” 

David smiled as he stood and hugged him. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. Bring him to dinner with me and your mother friday.” 

Jackson groaned. “Father… He is still grounded” . 

David chuckled. “I’m sure I can talk to the sheriff and get him to agree. Hell, the sheriff can join us.” 

Jackson sighed and nodded. “Of course, father.” 

To be continued…

[mikadwinchester]

Teen Wolf Characters or Disney?

So being a big TeenWolf fan and a Disney Dreamlight Valley fan I have started noting a lot of similarities between Teen Wolf characters and Disney characters. The main ones pictured literally jumped out at me but I have also been thinking there are lots more.

Kate Argent / Cruella De Ville - both are self absorbed high strung diva's who literally enjoy killing puppies/wolves for their own pleasure

Noah & Stiles / Marlin & Nemo - protective dad and hyper son who have an amazing bond, lost their wife/mum. Big hearted kid who tries to look out for everyone, including their slightly dumbass friend (note I adore Dory, but not so much Scott)

Peter & Derek / Scar & Simba - psychotic uncle with a suave sassyness that as much as you hate him you also kinda like him and its annoying as hell. Tender hearted nephew who had their world stolen out from under them and is haunted by familial death that they blame themself for, isolating themselves after in penance. Both the true leaders with major self doubt and sacfricial tendancies.

Stiles & Claudia Stilinski / Bambi & Bambi's Mum - a mother who is taken away from her child when they are way too young in traumatic circumstances, the child the only witness to their death. A child who is big hearted, kind, clumsy and has literal doe eyes.

Other potential similarities?

Allison Argent / Merida (Brave) - badass archer, plus ya know Crystal looks like a literal Disney princess and Merida is one.

Chris Argent / King Tritan (Little Mermaid) - protective badass dad who is seriously concerned over their daughters choice of boyfriend being another species

Erica Reyes / Tinkerbell - blonde badass with serious attitude, has the boys wrapped around her finger and when she is angry watch the fuck out!

Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd & Jackson Whitmore / Lost Boys (Peter Pan) - need I say more? Each are literally lost in their own way, they ask for the bite because they need a sense of belonging or power. With these all being lost boys and Erica as Tinkerbell, does that make Derek also Peter Pan? He's defo more Simba but .... 🤔

Lydia Martin / Belle (Beauty & the Beast) - intelligent beauty who is focused on for her looks rather than her smarts initially. Pursued by a belligerant jock (Jackson/Gaston)

Melissa McCall / Mrs Potts (Beauty & The Beast) - caring mum who is loved by all, always there with a shoulder for everyone

[lxnceclercs]

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 !

masterlist // writing blog —> @lxnceclercs2

hello! my name is kay! this is my main blog where i mostly just post/reblog f1 and hockey stuff or fic recs. i am a fan of a lot of drivers (as well as several hockey players) and i just want to make it very clear that hate towards any driver will not be tolerated on here!!

about me ! i am currently a college freshman majoring in anthropology with a concentration in archaeological practice and i am from the united states. i also write on both tumblr and wattpad. my writing blog is linked above so you should go check it out!!

wattpad accounts —> @/mrs-isaac-lahey @/lxnceclercs

i write about formula 1 on there too but it’s mostly just twilight (among other fandoms).

driver tier list !

all banners are from @cafekitsune !!

[fuji09]

He was 15 with Paige and I believe Kate happened pretty quickly after that so at most he would have been 16 with the fire but possibly also 15 which would make his retconned age 21-22. I don't know where 24 came from but I do know that's the age quite a few people see him as.

Kate makes it clear she's attracted to multiple teen boys on the show all under the age of 18. I don't think she would have found Derek attractive if he had already been 18. She still found Derek attractive as an adult, but I think she still saw him as the stupid teen boy she tricked and not as an adult.

Personally, I see him as 19 like the pilot script said but 21-22 is also believable. I think 24 is a bit too old for Derek in season one, but yes even if he is 24, that is still young! Trauma affects mental growth so him acting younger makes perfect sense no matter what his age is.

He did fuck up, a lot. But with everything against him, I get it. He tried to do the right thing, he really did. He cared about people, even when he was used and abused, he didn't stop caring about people.

I do hate he replicated Mr. Lahey's behavior to push Isaac away, but I also get it. Isaac was beyond loyal to Derek, that was literally the only way he could get Isaac to leave. It sucks and was a bit cruel, but I see it as a necessary evil. He did everything in his power to keep Isaac from being killed, and he knew Isaac would be killed if he stayed. Derek was scared and he made a judgement call. He already felt guilty and responsible for his family's deaths. Not excusing it, but I do get it. I wish we saw him apologize to Isaac and explain why he did it after the alpha pack was no more.

I see a lot less compassion for Derek, and it honestly seems like it's because people are mad that he was mean to Scott. I don't hate Scott, but even I was frustrated with him when he would not listen to Derek, a born werewolf, when Scott is newly turned and knows nothing about werewolves. He literally refused to listen to anything Derek said and with Derek's own life on the line, yeah, I get why he would get aggressive.

Derek deserves compassion, even when he makes mistakes. He isn't a bad person, he was never a villain, and once he understood he could trust Scott and Stiles, he was able to stop being so defensive and let himself show kindness.

He was a scared 19 year old who lost everything and felt crushing guilt over it. He was used and abused by an actual adult who has her shit together. He was pushed into the position of being the adult when he didn't know how to do so. Its not really fair that every single thing he does is criticized and is taken like he was an abusive person who got off on hurting others when that was not the case.

[maliciouslycreative]

RIP John Dunsworth.

I never thought I'd enjoy Trailer Park Boys. It was crass drug humour with characters that are painfully stupid. Yet I wound up catching a fee episodes and god there was just something so charming about it. Mr Lahey was always one of my favourites. I find myself quoting him almost as much as I quote Ricky. I don't know how many times I've made a coworker lose their shit after saying "the shithawks are nesting".

So thank you John Dunsworth for bringing to life such a great character. You will be missed.

[spookyblazecoffee]

Lahey family headcanons (David, Jenna, Camden, Jordan, Isaac, and Liam. [And Mr. Lahey I guess])

1. Liam needs glasses- but he refuses to wear them- because that’s just another way that he’s like his father. He also cannot wear contacts because of medical reasons, so he just endures fuzzy eyesight while his friends and family practically beg him to put his glasses on.

2. Camden used to give Jordan his old shirts after Jordan came out to him.

3. Liam and Isaac both suffer from nightmares, so whenever one has a nightmare they call the other and talk until they fall back asleep.

4. Liam likes the guitar and ukulele.

5. Isaac likes the drums.

6. Jordan likes guitar and drums.

7. Camden taught Liam how to play the guitar.

8. When Jenna and David started dating, Camden dug up pretty much everything he could about David. To see if there was anything similar to the stuff Mr. Lahey did. (He didn’t find anything.)

9. When they were younger Camden would tell Jordan, Isaac, and Liam that he would travel the world with them when they were all out of high school.

10. The last name Dunbar is of Scottish origin. So Liam just randomly starts speaking Gaelic when mad or he just wants to talk to specific people (His family or Brett Mason and Lori), and sometimes a Scottish accent will just happen when he’s singing, focused, or confused. It’s the same for Jenna, Camden, Jordan, and Isaac. (I know you don’t have to know the language or have an accent to be Scottish/Irish/ETC. but I just find it really cool.)

The last hc is based off of This post by @sweetrole.

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 14: New Bite and Nosebleeds

The ride to school was awkward as Stiles and Sam were forced to take Isaac Lahey to school. Isaac hadn’t said anything, but he was glancing at Sam through the rearview mirror.

"Whatcha been up to, Isaac?", Sam asked. Stiles looked at her in confusion. “Huh? Oh… nothing much. Helping out with my dad here and there.”, the boy in the back responds.

"That’s why you were at the graveyard with the police?", Sam curiously asked.

"I work the night shift and I was getting a grave ready for a funeral tomorrow when the backhoe I was in tipped over. Someone was digging up the graves.", he said.

"What the hell…" Sam sighed, "I thought it had something to do with Lydia."

"I heard she disappeared."

"She actually went missing in the hospital.", Sam corrected, "And everyone’s looking for her like crazy."

"Sounds terrible.", Isaac replies in a monotone voice.

Sam laughed. “You sound like me.”

"I don't hate Lydia, but I don't like her."

"You're better than me. I would’ve said good riddance, but Stiles isn't having it.”, Sam says, glancing at Isaac in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t looking at her, but she did take hint of the smile he tried to hide.

Sam wanted to fall asleep during this pop quiz Mr. Harris gave his students. With everything happening, she almost forgot everything. Chemistry was a pain in the ass and not her best subject.

She glanced over to see everyone else almost falling asleep or sweating.

She saw Jackson peeking at Danny’s paper. Out of all things he “worked on”, he still cheats. She rolled her eyes, turning back to her paper. "Dude. Your nose.", she heard Danny whisper to Jackson.

She looked up to see thick, black liquid running down Jackson's nose and dripping onto his quiz. Jackson pressed a hand to his nose, the black substance coming off on his fingertips.

She felt uneasy looking at it. That’s what happened to her… What if it starts up again…??

His brows furrowed and a terrified expression washed over his face. Her eyebrows furrowed as well. Did Peter bite Jackson?? Did Derek?? She thought she and Lydia were the only ones that got bit.

Jackson shot up from his chair and ran out of the classroom with Mr. Harris shouting after him. Sam got up as well. "Miss Wilson, you sit down!", he yelled.

She frowned at the teacher. “I don’t see you getting up to help him!”, she shouts and rushed out the room. She followed quickly behind Jackson and just as he barged into the boy's bathroom, and ducked in.

He was about to slam the stall door shut until she got in and locked it. His head was tilted upwards, and he had a hand squeezing his nostrils.

"Get out of here.", Jackson gruffed. He reached down and grabbed a wad of toilet paper, pressing it to his nose.

"Who bit you?", Sam pressed, grabbing more tissue. "I don't know what you're talking about.", he said. "Jackson, we talked about this shit, don't lie to me. The same thing happened to me when I got bit. Who bit you?", she repeated.

There was a knock at the door causing Jackson and Sam to look at each other in shock. He mouthed 'Danny' to her. "He's fine Danny, go back to class.", she said, dismissively. Another knock sounded at the door. Harder this time.

The blood seeped through the tissues. "Make sure no one sees.", he pleaded to her.

“Why do think I’m here? Answer my damn question.”, she said, grabbing more tissues and pressing them to his nose. The bleeding seemed to be getting worse.

"Just give me a second, okay?", Jackson called nasally. More blood dripped between her fingers. It wasn't stopping. The door began rattling. “Danny, what the hell!?”, Sam exclaimed at his aggressiveness.

"Give me a freakin' second!", Jackson yelled. The two ended up throwing the black tainted toilet paper into the toilet, and it filled up quickly. The lock broke off of the stall and before they could react, they were yanked out of the stall.

Sam hit her head on the floor and groaned as she rubbed her head. "What the hell was that for?"

Her eyes widened as she recognized the same, familiar black shoes. Standing in front of her was Derek. He looked at her with a hardened look.

"Derek.", Jackson spoke shakily. Derek turned to the boy. "You're looking a little pale there Jackson. You feeling okay?", Derek asked, smug.

"You two are on a first name basis? Since when?", Sam asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Never better.", Jackson replied to Derek.

"If something's wrong, I need to know. You're with me now.", Derek declared and walked around Jackson.

"Wait, me? With you?", Jackson let out a sarcastic laugh, "what am I, your little pet? Just because you gave me the bite doesn't mean I'm part of your little wolf pack. Sorry, no offense, but you don't exactly show outstanding leadership qualities."

Sam's eyes widened. So, he did go back and bite him. What the hell?

Sam got up hurriedly. Derek smiles at Jackson. "Is that so?" Derek retorted.

Jackson storms up to Derek. "Look I've got my own agenda which doesn't involve running around the woods at night howling at the moon with you and McCall. So why don't you just back the fu—"

Derek grabbed Jackson’s face and looked at the side of his ear to see black blood dripping down it. Sam walked up to Derek.

"What is it? What's happening?" Jackson frantically asked.

"What did you do?", she hissed at Derek, who was glaring at Jackson.

"Your body’s fighting the bite.", Derek said, in shock. Is that what hers was doing…?

"What's it mean?", Jackson asked.

Derek began backing up from the teens and towards the entrance of the bathroom into the shadows. "I don't know.", he said, unsure. His green eyes flickered to Sam and Jackson.

They were both fighting the bite. If she came out human and alive, what would happen to Jackson? If Derek wasn’t sure, and he was the only Hale that didn’t have the right answer, they were fucked.

“What does it mean?", Sam asked. Derek shook his head. "What does it mean!?" Jackson yelled.

With that, Derek disappeared out of the bathroom. Blood began dripping from Jackson’s nose and his skin was paling quickly. Huffing, Sam left Jackson and went after Derek. Looking around in the hallways, she spotted him walking down the hallway.

"Hey!" Sam called and Derek turned around, "you don't get to walk away without an explanation to that shit!" She jabbed a thumb to the bathroom behind her and ran to him.

She looked around before harshly whispering to him. "You bit him?

"I need to strengthen my pack."

"And your first thought was to pick the biggest dickhead in Beacon Hills? Really?", she raised her eyebrows. 

"He asked, I gave."

"Jackson can't get everything he wants just because, Derek!", she says, exasperated.

"Well, he might not."

"And who’s fault is that shit? You can’t just go around biting people you think are valuable assets because they’re “strong”. Now, he's fighting the bite.”, she sighs harshly through her nose, dragging her hands down her face. “Is he going to die?"

"I don't know."

"He better not, hell, I’m glad I didn't die after my body fought it. Miracles only come once in a lifetime, Derek."

Derek nodded in agreement, and she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Why were you stalking Isaac Lahey?", she asked, watching Derek get ready to defend himself. "And before you get defensive, he saw you, I sure as hell saw you and you almost got caught by the sheriff if you stayed there any longer."

Just before Derek could speak, the bell rang for the next period. His face contorted in frustration. 

"I'll tell you later. Your house." He stormed out of the school just as students began flooding the hallways.

During the few minute break the students had between classes, Sam spotted Allison at her locker. Sam walked up to her. "Hi." Allison faintly smiled, covering up the sad look across her face. Sam leaned on a locker as Allison emptied her locker. “Hey.”

"It was her aunt that killed all those people." A nearby girl in plaid shirt said excessively loudly.

"You mean that bitch that killed all those people?" Her friend asked obnoxiously with an ugly laugh. "Yeah! The fire, all those animal attacks, everything!", another girl exclaimed.

"Are you kidding me? I sit next to her in English.", someone cringed.

"Find a new seat.", Plaid shirt giggled.

Allison's face turned crimson red as she tried to not tear up. Sam sighed and started to storm up to those girls, but before she could, a dark blonde-haired boy with a camera around his neck came up to the girls.

Sam recognized him, but never bothered to know his name. "You know it's considered stupid to start talking about someone when they're three feet away from you? It’s almost like you want the attention?”, he said, walking by.

“How about y’all take your bitchiness to someone who wants it?”, Sam chimed in, glaring at them. They frowned and walked away muttering under their breath. The boy smiled at Allison and Sam before walking away.

"Thanks.", Allison mumbled, wiping at her eyes.

Sam sighed, taking in her state. It annoyed her seeing her like this, but… "I’ll help you with the funeral.", Sam says.

Allison’s eyes widened. "I don't know why you would. She tortured you and Derek and almost--” She paused as Sam raised an eyebrow, giving her a knowing look.

Tears pooled in Allison's eyes, "I'm sorry. I loved her, I did. And hearing all this makes me so sad. I know she was a bad person but I still remember her as my fun and carefree aunt. I'm being selfish, I'm sorry. Between this and Lydia disappearing I've barely had a second to think and I haven't even asked how you've been.", she rushed, starting to blubber.

Sam sighed and pulled her into a hug. “I got you. She was still family. I understand.”

Allison whimpered. "I can't do the funeral today; I can't do it alone."

"Your parents will be there. The others, your other family, will be there.", Sam reassured.

She shook her head. "Scott can't be there, Lydia’s missing… I feel so alone, and I'm scared, I can't do it."

Her crying swayed Sam. Just a bit. She was still on edge since she shot her with an arrow, but…

“Like I said, I’ll help. Despite your parents' discomfort with that, I’ll go anyway.", Sam says, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She was grieving. This wasn’t the time for her pettiness.

"I just need mental support from my friend. I've been a wreck this whole week, my life’s falling apart.”, she sighed. “I can convince my parents. You were friendly with Kate before it all happened, so I could get them to think about it.", she whimpered.

"Just lemme know the time, yeah?”, Sam says, letting her go.

"Four-thirty. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

After reluctantly calling her parents, Allison finally got them to say yes.

Sam sighed as she walked in the house, her mom looked at her. “Why do you look like you're going to a funeral?”, she asked. Sam frowned. “Funny you should ask that.”

Her mom's eyes widened. “You are!? To whose?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard of Kate Argent’s death?”

Her face shifted to annoyance. “Hers? Why?”

Sam crossed her arms. “Well, she’s Allison’s aunt and she’s really upset. So, I told her I’d be there to comfort her.”

She gave her daughter a sad smile as she walked up to her to place a hand on her shoulder. “You’re sweet for that. You shouldn’t give your kindness to everyone.”

Sam smiled at her. “I know, mom. Unfortunately, I had to be nice today.”, she says and walk upstairs. The moment she walked in her hroom, she noticed the window was open as she closed her door.

She turned to her left to see Derek standing behind the door, leaning on the wall.

“Your mom’s right, y'know.”, he says and gets off of the wall, walking to her desk and sits down. “I’m not even gonna ask how or why you got in here before telling me.”, Sam says, walking to her closet to find something black to wear.

Why is black the color of death? If the person you're putting down in the ground is so good, shouldn’t we wear white? Does black always have to mean death?

"I can’t believe you’re going to Kate’s funeral. Did you already forget that she tried to kill the both of us?", he barked.

Sam's eyes widened as she snapped at him. “Shut up.”, she hissed, peeking out of her closet and looked at her door. They didn't hear anything from her mother and Sam frowned at him. “I remember every fucking detail. Down to the nitty gritty.”, she expressed with wide eyes.

“Sam.”

She came out of the closet with a black dress and dress shoes, throwing the dress on her bed and shoes on the floor. “Look. She’s grieving. She was manipulated into this too, as much as I don’t like it. Of course, I don’t like Kate, hell, good riddance to the bitch. But Allison’s upset and overwhelmed, plus she was manipulated into this shit and it almost cost her life. Scott can’t exactly go and Lydia’s missing, so I’m just the replacement for both.”

He huffed, turning away from her. Sam's frown softened into a sympathetic one. “Derek.", she calls, gaining his attention. "This isn’t for Kate. Not at all. Not even for Chris and every other Argent. I’m doing this for Allison. Once this god-awful funeral is done, I’ll come back, and we can talk about whatever. Promise.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Fine.”, he gruffed. “Nothing else afterwards. You go to that funeral and come back.”, he ordered. Sam nodded.

Derek had dropped her off at the funeral and she had to push her way through reporters who were shooting questions at Chris Argent.

All of Allison's household were there, and so were the others. There was an older man talking and hugging Chris. He was unrecognizable. Allison caught Sam's eye and rose from her seat to rush to her with tears in her eyes. She engulfed her in a tight hug and Sam returned it. "Thank you so much.", Allison said.

“I told you, I’d be coming.”, Sam says, giving her a sympathetic smile. Allison led her to the funeral seats. Sam said my condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Argent, who looked at her with uncertainty in their eyes. She wished she could leave.

Most of the Argent family seemed to have older bald men. Sam got to meet the eldest mystery man here.

"You're not part of the Argent family.", he said, skeptically. And she was grateful she wasn't. Sam held out her hand. "I’m Samantha. I'm sorry for your loss."

"She's my best friend, she came for support.", Allison chimed.

The older man nodded. "How thoughtful. Gerard." He took Sam's hand and shook it while carefully studying her. It creeped her out. "Also known as Allison's long-lost grandfather.", he smiled.

"Nice to meet you.", Sam returns the smile while also dying inside.

As Sam moved around with Allison, she felt Gerard's eyes on her back. Did he know everything? Maybe he didn't know? Sam sighed as she took a seat in the back. She was right behind Allison and there were other Argent members to her right.

To her left, there was a free seat. Were they supposed to leave free seats at the funeral for the dead person to come and watch or something? Just the thought of Kate’s spirit sitting beside her, creeped her out.

She almost felt bad at their show of remorse and sadness for the dead. Almost.

"Attending the funeral of the woman that tortured and tried to kill you? You can’t be this weak.", she heard someone whisper in her left ear. She looked to see no one there. The voice sounded familiar.

She sunk in her seat, now even more uncomfortable.

"The woman kidnapped you, tortured you and your boyfriend for two days, and pointed a gun at your head yet you go to her funeral? I still don't get it.", Stiles asked as they walked out of the police station the day after the funeral.

“Shut up, Stillinski.”, Sam grumbled. “You can’t get mad at me because you let your guilt get to you.”, he chuckled as they got to his jeep.

“The crazy thing is, I have nothing to be guilty of other than the fact I punched her. That’s it.”, Sam says, exasperated.

Scott, Stiles, and Sam were previously held in those interrogation rooms for hours. Turns out Lydia was found late last night. Or, rather, she found the police herself.

While they were at another crime scene, she emerged from the woods, completely naked and utterly confused, not remembering a thing from her rendezvous.

They were questioned on her disappearance even though they weren't suspects. But the Sheriff thought they were all “friends” and the cops needed to know if the teens had thought she had been planning on running away, taking any drugs, acting unusual, or any other crazy stuff. No one keeps tabs on her.

Well… maybe except Stiles.

A rumble of thunder sounded as the boys, and Sam walked to Stiles' car. "Looks like it's gonna storm.", Scott sighed, looking up at the black clouds. "What gave it away, the thunder or the black clouds?", Stiles sarcastically asked.

Scott pushed him with a smile. "Have you heard from Derek today?", he asked Sam. Sam shrugged. "Earlier, but not tonight. I guess he had some things to do." They were supposed to talk yesterday, but he didn’t come back. Only shot her a text that he was looking out for some stuff.

The trio looked up to the sky as the sky drizzled before it turned into rain, and the rain turned into a downpour.

"If it’s not one thing, it’s a fucking nother!”, Sam yelled over the heavy rain, now frustrated. By the time they got in Stiles' car, they were coldly rushing to Sam's house.

After arriving, they all ran inside, huffing and shaking from the rain. Sam ran to go get some towels.

"Well that was unexpected.", Stiles muttered as she came back with three towels.

"Agreed.", Scott said, as she handed him and Stiles towels.

"Tea’s in the pantry if you guys want to warm up.", Sam grumbled, drying her face and quickly curling hair.

"Sam, you think I can spend the night here? I don't feel like going home with my dad not there and the whole Lydia thing and—", Stiles rambled. 

Sam look at him in confusion. “Dude, you already know you can stay here.”, she says, as she wrung her hair into the towel.

He smiled and headed over to the fake chimney they had. It did its job as a heater though. Sam sighed and walked back upstairs to get some clothes for her and them.

As Sam got undressed and dressed into better clothes, she went to wash her face. “He’s losing control…can’t you feel it…?”, she heard and looked up in the mirror to see a woman’s face over her shoulder.

Sam screamed, flinching away and stumbling in the corner of her sink.

"Sam!? Sam, what happened!?" She heard the boys rush into her room and scrambled in their arms, looking around frantically.

“There was-- She-- I-”, Sam stuttered and Scott rubbed her back. “Hey, hey, relax. No one’s here.”

She looked around and he was right. There was no one but them. “You sure you weren’t just thinking about Kate?”, Stiles asked. Sam snapped her attention to him. “Why the hell would I be thinking of that bitch? That’s not who I heard or saw.”

Stiles shrugged and Sam sighed. They helped her up and she looked around as she rushed to get them clothes they left over and handed them the clothes. They took turns going into the bathroom to change before they left downstairs to sleep.

The next morning, Coach Finstock had the team huddled on the field and San walked over to Scott and Stiles who had an extremely worried expression on their faces.

"What’s up with you two?", she asked.

"There's another.", Scott hushed to her.

Her eyes widened. "Another? Another werewolf?"

"Yeah, I could sense him in the locker room." If he was in the locker room, that meant he was on the team. Sam looked around and found Jackson warming up as he smirked at her. He looked completely fine.

Shit. If he was turned, he could hear everything we’re saying.

Sam looked back at the boys. Maybe this wasn’t the time to tell them about Jackson's bite. She couldn't, they'd be upset at Derek and get pissed at her for not telling them.

"We're thinking of a plan to find out who it is though.", Stiles explained.

"Okay, good luck.", Sam says as Scott and Stiles went over to the bleachers to finish putting their gear on. When she turned around, she jumped as Isaac Lahey was standing directly behind her. “Fucking-- Isaac-!" She sighed, placing a hand over her chest.

When did he get here? He just stared at her. That black eye he had two days ago had disappeared completely. Her brows furrowed as he continued to stare at her.

"You. You're one too.", he suddenly said. "One? Isaac, what the hell are you talking about?", Sam asked in confusion.

"You smell like him.", he says. Smell…? Her eyes widened in realization. Derek, you didn’t…

"Isaac—"

Coach blew his whistle and with one last long look at her, Isaac walked away. So if it wasn’t Jackson, then it was Isaac.

Sam rushed over to where Scott and Stiles had just gotten up from. They were in a deep conversation while Scott was putting Danny's goalie gear on.

"Guys, we have a problem. Big problem." They looked at her confused, but Finstock blew his stupid whistle again.

"McCall, Stilinski, Wilson let's go!" He yelled. Sam sighed. This wasn’t good.

"Tell us after practice, Sam. Let’s go.", Stiles sighed and jogged off to the field.

"No, Stiles-” Sam yelled after him. Stiles' brilliant idea to find out who the new wolf was, was to switch Scott with Danny's goal position.

Scott was running from his position inside the goal, tackling every lacrosse player to the ground and smelled them. Sam and Stiles could only watch in embarrassment.

Scott tackled Danny and proceeded to sit on top of him, taking in how he smelled as all the other players looked at him strangely.

"It's Armani.", Danny said as Stiles and Sam walked up to Scott. "What?", Scott asked, perking up.

"My aftershave. Armani.", Danny repeated.

"Oh… It's nice.", Scott smiled. Stiles and Sam laughed as Finstock proceeded to yell at Scott about how if he came out of the goal again, he'd be doing suicide runs till he died.

"Coach, my shoulder’s hurting. I'm gonna sit this one out.", Jackson said while staring directly at Scott. Jackson headed towards the bleachers, taking a seat. Sam frowned, glaring at Jackson.

It was Isaac’s turn, and he was breathing heavily. The team watched as the two both charged at each other and suddenly a sickening sound of the two bodies crashing together echoed around the field. Scott and Isaac both landed on the ground panting heavily.

Sam started to run over at them before she heard someone talk. Looking to her left, she could see Stiles' dad and two other cops coming onto the field. Shit.

She heard them say “Lahey” and she booked it for Scott and Isaac. "Get up now.", she ordered the two. Isaac looked at her with pleading eyes. "Please don't tell them."

"Did Derek turn you?", Sam rushed. He nodded sheepishly. She wanted to ask more but Stiles’ dad came up to them.

"Isaac Lahey, I need a few questions." Isaac hesitantly followed, Coach Finstock following along too.

"How'd you know?", Scott asked.

"He came up to me and asked if I was 'one too'. I saw him and Derek looking at each other two days ago. It all clicked when he said I smelled like 'him'.", Sam rushed.

They stared at her in shock. The entire lacrosse team watched Isaac getting questioned from afar. Scott was using his super hearing to listen to it.

"His father’s dead. They think he was murdered.", Scott informed his friends with wide eyes.

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles wondered.

"I'm not sure…why?", Scott asked.

"They can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours.", Sam informed them. Stiles looked at her with wide eyes. "Just because you’re the sheriff’s kid doesn’t mean I couldn’t learn.”, she shrugged.

The boys continued talking about how they should get him out, that Isaac had the urge to kill, and Scott didn't. As Isaac was being escorted away, he looked back at them, begging with his eyes.

Sitting in chemistry, Sam couldn't help, but wonder why Derek thought to turn Isaac.

Sam sighed, writing down the notes and she saw a balled piece of paper fly past her. She looked behind her to see Scott and Stiles looking at her with wide eyes.

The class erupted in laughter as Mr. Harris yelled, holding the back of his head. When Harris asked who was responsible for the action, the two boys behind her pointed at each other. "Principal's office, now.", Harris ordered. "You too, Miss Wilson."

Sam gaped at the man, making more students laugh. "What!?", Sam yelled. “What’d I do!?”

"You associate yourself with these two. Now, go.", he says. Sam looked at Scott and Stiles and stood up as they took their stuff and left.

“I’m gonna fuck you two up.”, Sam threatened, crossing her arms as they sat outside the principal’s office. "Why are we here?"

"Jackson's with my dad talking about Isaac. We can persuade him not to say anything bad or not true.", Stiles explained. Sam looked at him in disbelief.

“You couldn’t find a better way to skip class??”, she fussed. Scott’s head tilted as he listened in. He stopped as soon as the door opened and out came the Sheriff. Stiles immediately picked up an issue of Cosmo and tried to shield his face from his dad as he looked at the trio.

She shook her head at his father as he looked back at them in confusion. Sheriff Stilinski opened his mouth to say something to his son but closed it. "Sam, Scott.", he greeted before walking away. "Boys," a familiar voice greeted.

Her heart dropped. "Come on in." Gerard Argent smiled at us from the door. How did this old fuck become the principal? The office smelled like cedar wood mixed with old, mildewed books.

She thought it’d have more...school spirit. She noticed three files with the names "Scott McCall, Samantha Wilson" and "Stilinski" on it were written across the tabs in neat handwriting.

They were sitting in a room with Gerard, our new principal. Stiles was sitting to the right of me, jiggling his thigh nervously. Scott sat on my left, perfectly still, aside from the heavy, and slow rise and fall of his chest.

And Sam, resting her cheek on her fist, fighting the urge to be nervous. This man creeped h er out. Something wasn't right, why was Grandfather Argent their new principal? This was both unlucky and too convenient for them and the hunters.

"Scott McCall. Academically not the most accomplished but I see you have become quite the star athlete. Mr. Stilinski, perfect grades but little to no extra curriculars. You should try lacrosse.", Gerard suggested. Stiles raises his hand. "I'm actually already—"

"And Miss Wilson; fair grades but not too many extracurricular activities. No suspensions, very little detentions and most importantly the best friend of my granddaughter. Very good."

"Yeah, I’m—", he also cut her off. "Hold on, McCall, you're the Scott that dated my granddaughter.", Gerard realized. Scott gave him a nervous smile. "We were dating, but not anymore. Not seeing any of each other, or not doing anything with each other. Y-oh." He groaned and sighed.

"Nice, McCall.", Sam mumbled.

"Relax, Scott. You look like you're about to crack a cyanide brick with your teeth." Gerard laughed. "Hard breakup.", Scott replied.

"Listen guys, I may be the principal but I don't want you to think of me as the enemy.", Gerard said. Huh.

"However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers and someone's going to have to stay behind for detention to take the fall."

Scott and Sam looked to Stiles, who was playing with his nails. Stiles looked at his friends and realized what was going on, and pouted. He was taking the fall.

The bell for next class rang and Gerard continued talking. They were losing time to get to Isaac. He was still being held in a cop car.

"Listen, Mr. Argent, I know checking this school behavior thing is important and all, but we've got to get to class so if we could do this a different time, that'd be great.", Sam said, standing up and grabbing her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

"I think we'll also be having an attitude check in the near future as well.", Gerard said, frowning, "but go ahead you three, detention for you with Mr. Harris, Mr. Stilinski."

Class was already in session by the time they got out of the office, but Scott understood why she had said that to Gerard. They were running out of time.

The two of them ran down the hall and out of the school to go find Isaac. The second they busted through the front doors, the police pulled off with him in their cars.

Sam growled in frustration. Scott and Sam turned around to go back to class. There was nothing they could do now. As they turned back around, there was a screech of tires behind them. They looked to see Derek in his car. "Get in.", he ordered, looking at the two through sunglasses.

"What!?", Sam exclaimed. "Are you serious?", Scott asked, loudly. Derek raised his eyebrows as a yes.

"You did that, that's your fault.", Sam says, pointing to where the cops pulled off. "I know that. Now get in the car, and help me!", he yelled back. "No, I've got a better idea. I'm gonna call a lawyer, because a lawyer would actually have a chance to get him out before the moon goes up!", Scott cried.

"Not when they do a real search of the house.", Derek countered as they walked up to the car. "What do you mean?", Scott asked.

"Whatever Jackson said to the cops, what's in the house is worse. A lot worse.", Derek said. Scott and Sam looked at each other and rushed in the car.

"Gerard is gonna shit on me after this." Sam complained as they left. They had to wait a few hours to go in since the house was crawling with police. It was dark now, and after they slid under the police caution tape, they entered the dark home with a flashlight.

"Who killed Isaac's dad?", Sam asked Derek. "I don't know.", he replies. 

"Then how do you know he didn't kill him?", Scott asked.

"Because I trust my senses. And it's a combination of them, not just your sense of smell.", Derek said. Scott stopped walking, looking at Derek who had a blank expression on his face. "You saw the lacrosse thing today." Sam bit her lip to keep from smiling. Derek said, "yeah."

"Did it look that bad?", Derek put a hand on Scott's shoulder and looked at him. "Yeah."

She looked away to laugh to herself. After looking all over, Derek led them to the basement. He opened the door for them, and Scott scanned the room with his flashlight.

"You want to learn how to follow your senses? Start now.", Derek instructed. Scott went down the stairs first, Sam was next, and Derek followed. "What's down here?", Scott asked as they moved in the dark. "Motive.", Derek plainly said.

"You could at least tell us what we're looking for.", Sam said and felt off immediately. This place looked like a creepy horror movie basement. "I wanna leave now.", she sang.

There was only one window, and the moonlight that barely shone in the room hardly helped. The basement was filled with old chairs, boxes, and definitely a lot of dust. She passed by a creepy looking doll and a coat rack holding a black suit bag. There were machines sitting on an old wooden table, it didn't help that they were taken apart.

In the back, she could see a broken lamp or two and a taxidermized hawk.

Gross.

Derek stopped at the base of the stairs while Scott and Sam were investigating. All of this stuff looked dusty and untouched, so why were they down here?

"So…what happened down here?", Sam asked. "The kind of thing that leaves an impression.", Derek eerily said. She turned to him with an unamused look. "Really? Can you be more vague?", Sam asked sarcastically before turning to a broken mirror. Weren't broken mirrors bad luck…? She walked over to it, crouching onto the ground and ran her fingers over a broken glass.

She frowned as she took out her phone and shone the flashlight over it. There were spots of blood on the mirror pieces. She looked up and saw Scott by a wall, tracing his fingers over something. They spotted the same item: a freezer chest. Scott was by the front of it and Sam was on its right side.

What the hell…It's reasonable to have a freezer chest in the house if your fridge is full but… it was even creepier down here.

"Open it.", Derek ordered Scott, seeing him playing with the lock. He got it open, and they lifted the top open to examine the inside as Derek flashed the light around to show them.

There were scratches engraved in the plastic, like someone was scratching them and there was blood on trailed from the scratches. Holes were poked in the roof of the chest as there were more bloody scratches at the top.

Her heart dropped in realization. "No fuckin' way…"

This entire time….The bruises, the scratches, the black eyes… Isaac had been abused by his father. This was a torture chamber. Sam looked at Derek. "That's why he said yes to you. He was abused."

"Everyone wants power.", Derek said. Scott shook his head. "If I help you, you have to stop. You can't just go around turning people into werewolves. You told me not to.", Scott scolded. "I can if they're willing.", Derek protested.

"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?", Scott asked. Derek continued to nod. "Yes and he still asked for it.", Derek said.

"Then he's an idiot!", Scott exclaimed in displeasure. "And you're the idiot dating Argent's daughter!", Derek combatted. Scott looked at Sam in shock. Sam gaped at him. "Why do you keep looking at me like I just be running my mouth? I said, I'd snitch but I was joking."

Derek gave her a look. "So, you knew the entire time, anyway?" She looked at him, challenging. "We're gonna keep passing the blame game?? You want me to finish it?", she threatened with raised eyebrows.

"Regardless, how long do you think it's going to take for them to find out? You saw what happened to an Omega, with me you learn how to use all of your senses. With me you learn control," Derek picked up one of Scott's shaking hands, "even on a full moon."

His claws had come out. Scott snatched his hand back. "If I'm with you, I lose her."

"You're gonna lose her anyways. You know that.", Derek said and turned to walk away. Scott stopped him with a conflicted 'wait'. "I'm not part of your pack, but I want him out. He's my responsibility too. Not because he's one of us, because he's innocent."

Derek sighed out of his nose and they left the crime scene. "Where are you going?", Sam asked. "I've got a plan, let's go.", he replied. 

Stiles was kinda on thin ice with his dad which probably wasn't the best idea for this.

"The problem is getting past the front desk.", Stiles huffed, as we watched the receptionist play with the coffee machine through the window of the police station.

Derek, Stiles, and Sam were sitting in Stiles' car waiting for a chance to launch into action.

"I'll distract her.", Derek replied, making them look at him strangely.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!", Stiles grabbed Derek's shoulder as he tried to climb out of the Jeep. "You? You're not going in there."

Derek glanced between Stiles' face and the hand that was set on his arm and back twice, warning him with his eyes. "I-I'm taking my hand off.", Stiles said, snapping his hand back.

"I was exonerated.", Derek cleared, sitting back in the car. "You're still a person of interest."

"An innocent person.", Derek emphasized. Stiles almost choked on his spit, amused. "In-- you? Yeah. Right." Stiles barked a laugh. "Ok, fine, what's your plan?"

Derek looked at him in confusion. "To distract her."

"Uh-huh, how? By punching her in the face?", Stiles said, making Sam look at him with wide eyes. "Stiles...what…?", she muttered in confusion.

Derek gave a low, confused chuckle. "By talking to her."

"Ok, alright, give me a sample. What's your opening?", Stiles asked. Derek didn't say anything. "Dead silence.", Stiles nodded. "That should work beautifully." Stiles said. "Any other ideas?"

Derek paused. "I'm thinking about punching you in the face.", he said. Stiles frowned. Sam shook her head. "Just… go, please."

Derek left the jeep and walked in the station. Stiles and Sam ran out and hid behind one of the closed doors and listened in. At one point, Stiles peeked his head in.

"Hi.", Derek gave the receptionist a sweet smile. She smiled after greeting Derek. "I had a question, I, uh, I was just a little thrown. I wasn't expecting someone…" The receptionist smiled. "Like me?", she giggled.

Sam rolled her eyes as Stiles and Sam took this opportunity to sneak into the hallway. "Well I was going to say so incredibly beautiful but yeah, I guess that's the same thing.", they hear Derek say. "Where's this charm when he's talking to us…?", Sam whispers to Stiles, making him smile.

Stiles pulled her into the hallway and into his dad's office. Stiles punched in the code for his dad's lock box and took off the top, except the keys weren't there. Their eyes widened as they could hear jingling in the hallway. They rushed out and began following the noise. Stiles and Sam turned down another hallway and ran into a deputy.

"Oh, uhh, just looking for my—", Stiles started but Sam stopped him, and pointedly looking at the deputy's leg. There was an arrow in it, one she recognized so well. This wasn't a deputy; it was an Argent hunter. The hunter looked up from his leg to Sam and Stiles.

"Go—", She tell Stiles, but the hunter grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her towards him. She swung to hit him, but he slammed his fist into her face before grabbing her once more, turned her around and cupped a hand over her mouth.

There was a syringe in his other hand and Sam instantly grabbed his shirt, flexing to flip him over her shoulder. She quickly pulled a fire alarm to get the receptionist' or Derek's attention. The shrill alarm blared around the whole station. All their eyes fell on the opened cell that Isaac wasn't in.

Shit.

They heard a scream and growls. The two watched as Isaac threw the hunter around and Stiles pulled Sam away to scurry up and hide in the corner of the room. Isaac roared loudly and broke the hunter's arm. Then he slammed the man's head against the wall, knocking him out.

There was the sound of glass breaking, then suddenly Derek was in the room. He had stomped on the wolfsbane filled needle. Isaac growled at him and then glanced at Stiles and Sam.

He got ready to charge at them until Derek sent out a wall shaking roar. Isaac scurried away into the corner with a yelping sound. He was quivering and he looked back towards them, back to normal but with fear and tears in his eyes.

"How'd you do that?", Sam asked. Derek turned towards Stiles and Sam. "I'm the Alpha.", he said.

"What the hell's going on in here?", they heard Stiles' dad shout from down the hall. Sam looked at Derek in panic. "Go.", she mouthed. Derek took Isaac and disappeared.

The alarm shut off and three officers including Stiles' dad came into the holding room. Their eyes glanced from Stiles, to Sam, to the hunter on the floor. And finally they looked at the empty cell behind them.

"Uh, he did it.", Stiles said, pointing to the man.

[moonylantsovs]

Habits [ I.L ]

request: Hey! I love your writing! Could you do a enemies to lovers fic with Isaac, with a bit of mutual pining (you know I love my fluff ) thanks so much!! :)

summary: Isaac Lahey moving into your house and becoming a part of your pack has been everything but great. After months of arguing and pinning after each other, you finally find common ground.

pairings: Isaac Lahey x Hale!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

"God, you're such an asshole!"

"I'm an asshole?! Well then you're a selfish, egoistic bitch!" Isaac yelled back as you rushed down the stairs.

You turned back to glare at him "Wow, real mature Lahey."

This wasn't anything new. Whenever Derek walked out of the loft, you and Isaav would be up each other's throats. It's been like that ever since he turned and started living with you and your older brother.

You only saw him as a cocky little bastard who your older brother took pity on. That boy has been nothing but trouble for you since the second Derek turned him. You basically had to babysit him in school to make sure he doesn't fuck something up and guess what? He got arrested the first day so you had to get him out of jail too.

His attitude towards you wasn't making the situation any better. He couldn't care less that you were his Alpha's little sister. He just waited for an opportunity to get on your nerves. You seriously didn't know why, maybe it was because of his newfound confidence or just because he was bored.

But you couldn't stand it.

"I feel really sorry for Derek, you know." Isaac said after a few minutes of us yelling at each other "Out of everyone in your family that died in the fire, you're the only one that's left so he has to take care of you. I bet he can't wait for you to leave for college or something just so you can give him a break."

In a blink of an eye, you turned around an slapped him so hard there was a red print left that still hasn't healed. You glared at him "I hate you."

You quickly made your way out of the loft not allowing the tears to fall down until you were far enough to know Isaac couldn't hear you crying.

He knew he went too far, you always got sensitive whenever someone mentioned the fire and he understood that, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize because of his ego. He had a crush on you since you first came to school during sophmore year. You two were never really friends, mostly because you hung out with people like Lydia Martin and spent most of your time making sure Scott McCall and his sarcastic best friend stayed out of trouble.

Not that he would admit it to enyone but he still liked you. Well that is, when you weren’t yelling at him. But he did, He also very much knew why he acted the way he did. He thought that his feelings would go away and he wouldn’t have to hide the fact that he was in love with his alpha’s little sister. 

But no matter how much time they spent yelling at each other or throwing sarcastic comments to each other during pack meetings. He couldn’t shake those feeling away.

Becuase he was completely and uterly in love with (Y/N) Hale, and he knew it.

-

You shut your locker so hard the sound echoed the school halls, but you didn't care, you were pissed.

Lydia gave you a look "What's up with you?" she paused before smirking "Let me guess...Lahey?"

"Don't say his name." you trew her a glare making her raise her hands in mock surrender.

"I'm just saying, you should just get over it and hook up, I can't handle the sexual tension anymore and I'm sure the rest of the pack feels the same way." she shrugged making you grimace and murm 'ew'.

Your best friend scoffed "You don't have to pretend around me, it's kind of obvious."

"What is?" you asked, genuinely confused.

She twirled a peace of her strawberry-blonde hair around her fingers "That you're completely in love with each other?"

You gave her an innocent look "I thought that was you and Stiles."

Lydia opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before choking out "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her words made you snort "Whatever. I have to go, I don't wanna be late to detention. You know how big of a dick Harris is."

"You can't change the subject!"

You pouted "I'm not. I just really have to go."

-

Once you made into detention, you took your seat near the back, next to the windows. But what you didn't expect was for Isaac to come in a minute later and to sit in the seat behind you making you roll your eyes.

Mr. Harris started assigning stuff for everyone to do. When he came to your table, he looked between you and Isaac "You two are cleaning the janitor's closet."

You narrowed your eyes before getting up pointing at Isaac with your finger and whispering "Does it gave to be with him?"

Knowing fully well he could hear every word you said, you could basically hear him rolling his eyes.

Your teacher shook his head "Now that I know you prefer not to. Yes."

You glared after him as you watched him leave before you turned to the beta behind you "Let's just get this over with."

He rolled his eyes but still followed you to the janitor's closet. When you stepped inside you told him "You clean the left side, I'll clean the right one."

Isaac made a show of crossing his arms over his chest "What if I want to clean the right side?"

"Then you're gonna have to suck it up." you snapped making him shut up and turn to his side of the closet.

After a few minutes of silence, Isaac decided to speak up "So...why do you hate me so much?"

"Hate is a strong words, Lahey." you shrugged "I just strongly dislike you."

He furrowed his eyebrows "But why?"

"Because you're an asshole to me half the time. Not to mention you're cocky and too full of yourself." you said not looking up from the boxes you were going through.

He clenched his jaw. It was obvious he messed up any chance he had with you because of his huge ego and his lack of ability to talk to girls he actually liked. He didn't have any problems wihile flirting with random girls in school that he had no idea who they were. But you were different.

So he said the first thing that came to his mind "Well maybe I wouldn't be an asshole if you weren't always such a bitch."

Isaac heard you scoff under you breath and whisper a quiet 'of course' he was only able to pick up on because of his supernatural hearing.

Before they could start arguing again, the closet door slammed shut making Isaac stiffen while you let out an irritated sigh.

You went to open the door, but it didn't budge. It still didn't budge when you tried to break it open so you realized someone must have put something over it.

The Alpha twins.

You were so focused on the door you didn't even notice the drastic change in Isaac's behavior. So when you turned around, you didn't expect to find him scrunched in the closet corner repeating the word 'no' over an over again.

Your whole expression softened at the boy's panicked expression so you kneeled in front of him "Isaac, listen to me. You're gonna be fine."

When he kept shaking you cupped his cheeks "He's not here to hurt you anymore. He's gone. You're safe now. No one's gonna hurt you."

He seemed to calm down a bit because his claws were gone and his eyes stopped glowing but he was still shaking. You didn't know what you were doing, but without thinking, you pulled the boy to your chest and shushed him.

You felt him wrap his arms around your waist and quietly cry in the crook of your neck, while you cooed in his ear.

It took him a minute but he eventually calmed down. Even though he was calm, he still had his arms around your waist an whispered "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, we all have our moments."

He shook his head "I'm talking about being an asshole to you. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well I'm sorry too. I was kind of a bitch." you admitted.

"Kind of." he teased making you snort as you both pulled away and leaned on your own sides of the closet wall.

"You know maybe you aren't that bad." you said after a while of silence.

Isaac turned to you with a small smirk "That's probably the nicest thing you ever said to me, Hale."

"Don't make me regret it."

A/N: I hope this turned out how you wanted. I'm thinking about writing a part two.

[blessednereid]

LFLLLL Prologue: Project Partners

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

WC: 5k

Taglist: @rogershoe

~

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      You

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While you were in the car, all you could think about was what got you in the position that you were in. With Lydia, with Isaac, caught in the middle of a murder investigation because of your brother and his friend.

Everything that used to make sense to you was crumbling. Your guards and your walls were dissipating with every waking moment. 

It all started in September, and along the twenty-minute drive, you were determined to figure out how you got to your position. Even if it meant going through every single event that has happened since you met Isaac Lahey.

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Project Announcement

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You were in your World History class. The unit you were currently learning about was The Industrial Revolution. Though, you weren't paying attention to the warm-up on the board. Instead, you were listening to Lydia recall the events that lead to her latest hookup before class started.

"So basically after we left the club, he told me that he wanted to show me something at his house. Obviously, I was feeling-"

"Alright, class. Settle down." Your teacher, Mrs. Goldblatt, had started speaking, and Lydia quickly stopped talking. The last time Lydia was caught talking over Mrs. GB was the previous year, and she had detention for half a month and missed practice.

"Today, I'm assigning you a project. Yes, you will be working in pairs. No, you won't get to choose your partners."

She turned to the board and wrote the words 'European Industrialization'. 

"You will make a presentation about a country, as well as the ways they used industrialization. And you will add how it relates to modern industrialization today."

You groaned, but the rest of the class stayed silent. Your teacher didn't seem to notice as she continued speaking. 

"You will write on a slip of paper the names of a maximum of two students who you cannot get along with and give it to me in five minutes. I don't want any arguments in my class."

You took a slip of paper from your bag and wrote the names: Christina Goldblatt, your teachers' daughter, who was a stuck-up brat, and Isaac Lahey. You had heard from former partners of his that he was quiet and hard to read. Seeing as how you had to communicate actively with a partner, you felt like you couldn't work with him. 

"Also, seeing as how there is one extra student in this class, my daughter Christina has elected to work by herself."

The five-minute timer soon went off, and everyone walked to the front to give their teacher a white sheet of paper with their name and one or two more on it.

Once she had the slips of paper, she began working on partner assignments. She told the rest of the students to work on their nearly due classwork and then finish missing work.

You had decided to ignore her and work on your one missing assignment. You felt like you would be able to focus more without the worry of finishing it later. 

Within twenty minutes, she had finished the pairings and called out names. Apparently, these would also determine your seating positions for the rest of the project duration, which would last three weeks.

She called out the names starting in alphabetical order, skipping names she had already called with their partner. You only paid attention to the pairings of your friends.

"Mahealani, Danny, and Martin, Lydia." Lydia tried to argue her way into working with you, which only prompted your teacher to threaten her with another detention.

"McCall, Scott, and Stilinski, Stiles," she said, which was confusing seeing the chaos they caused when together.

She went through all the names, even down to the Z's skipping your name. Lastly, there were four people left. 

"Zabka, Madeline, and Zabka, Madison," she finished.

Finally, there were just two people left: You and Isaac Lahey. You knew this was why she skipped you. She had heard your protests when she started every lesson. You assumed she ignored it because she favored you for some reason. When in reality, she was pairing you up with the one person whose personality most clashed with yours. 

"But, Mrs. Goldblatt, why can't I work with Lydia? Lydia and I do projects well together, and we have a good partnership."

"Ms. Stilinski, I already told you that you can't pick your partner. Have a seat!"

You smiled bitterly, and though you gracefully walked to your assigned seat, on the inside, you wanted to storm out of the classroom and sulk in the library. 

Spurs of conversation spun about in front of you, and the lack of communication between you and your partner made you feel like you were stuck in the worst corner of hell. It made you feel lonely when you weren't alone.

You glanced at your partner, who was beside you. His head was down, and his eyes refused to look anywhere but his paper. He didn't look like he was focused, more like he was trying to look anywhere that wasn't you. 

"So, it looks like we're partners…" you said wistfully. 

He looked at you and shrugged before his eyes darted back to his desk, and he found the wood chippings on the side more enticing than before.

"You do know you have to talk to me if we're going to do this project. You have to talk to me."

He glanced your way, and you now held his attention, but his silence was unwavering. 

"Say something, please?" He remained silent. 

You groaned and banged your head on the desk.

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Mall (One Week Later)

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"Lydia, I just can't do it," you said before sipping your strawberry lemonade cooler. You were on your lunch break at your job, and Lydia had come to visit you. 

"He's so hard to work with. We've had three meetings, and he hasn't said a single word to me. The most he's said is correcting me on a grammar error through a piece of paper."

You popped another pretzel nugget into your mouth. 

"I just don't know, Lyds."

"Well, hun." She sighed. "Maybe try getting to know him."  

"Lydia," you uttered stolidly. "He won't talk to me. How will I get to know him."

"Take him out to a park. Spin him around on those merry go round until he pukes. Then he'll be forced to talk."

"Lydia, I don't want him to hate me.

"I don't know. I just wish that GB gave me detention instead of partnering me with him."

Lydia sighed. "Y/n, go do something fun with him in an environment that doesn't make you wanna pull your pretty gorgeous hair out."

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Carnival

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When Isaac came over to your house the next day, you already had your jacket on and convinced Stiles to let you take the car. 

You led him out to the Jeep, and both hopped inside. When you started driving, Isaac was confused, but he still didn't say anything. 

"Isaac."

He turned his head and hummed. 

"I could be kidnapping you, and you still won't talk to me…" you remarked.

He turned his attention back to the window without saying another word. 

You parked a decent distance away from your destination, wanting to see Isaac's reaction when he saw the carnival.

You began walking in silence, but somehow today, it was a peaceful silence. You thought that maybe it was the anticipation of the festivities or the notion you had that today would be the day he said something to you.

You paused for a moment, which prompted him to do the same. He turned to you, and you stepped forward and grabbed both his hands. His four fingers rested between your thumbs and the side of your pointer fingers calmly, and his thumb caressed your wrist absentmindedly.

"I don't know…" you tapped your foot while speaking. "I don't know why you don't like me. And I'll admit, maybe trying to get rid of you as a partner was a surefire way to get started off on the wrong foot." 

Isaac's brows remained furrowed, and his gaze was fixed on you. 

"But I want to change that… If you'll let me. Because you seem like a really cool person, and I want to get to know you."

Isaac pulled his hands out of yours and started walking in the direction that you lead him. You sighed at the action before he turned around.

"Where are we going?" he said blankly, but his voice made you smile. You started running ahead of him.

"Follow me!" 

You both broke off into a run and only slowed down when you neared the entrance of the fairgrounds. You purchased two tickets for both of you before dragging Isaac inside the black metal gates.

"Ah, so this is where you're kidnapping me… Alright, where do I go to be tied up, Ms. Stilinski? And would this interfere with your dads' job perchance?"

His voice made you smile and laugh, and then he began to laugh as well. 

"I'm sorry, that was a bad joke," he said, still laughing. 

"No! It was a great joke."

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the line for the carousel. 

"You know, I've never actually been to a fair," you muttered. 

"Me either. My mom used to tell me she would take me on my birthdays, but something always came up, so she would find creative things to do in the house."

"You make it sound like she can't take you anymore?" you frowned. 

"She can't. She's dead." He said the words so calmly, but it made your heart immediately break into a million pieces.

"How'd she die?" 

"Car crash."

You faltered. "I'm assuming you don't want a hug?"

"Why would you assume that?"

"When my mom died, people always gave me hugs as if that would bring her back, and I hated it."

"How did your mom die?"

"Frontotemporal dementia," you said. "Incurable."

"Damn," he deadpanned. 

Soon you had reached the front of the line and boarded the carousel. You opted to take the pegasus with wings which were next to the black horse Isaac sat on. 

The horses began spinning, and you noticed Isaac didn't look like he was having much fun.

"You alright?"

"These don't go fast, do they?"

"No, they don't. These rides are meant for kids, Lahey."

"Kids or not, this is way too slow."

When you got off the carousel, you didn't tell Isaac what ride you were going to next. 

"Cover your eyes," you said blankly. 

"There are hundreds of people here, Y/n. I'm not trying to actually get kidnapped."

You chuckled. "Ha-ha, Don't worry, I won't let the monsters get you."

He allowed you to step behind him and cover his eyes, but you were only able to walk a few steps before his height made your arms ache from stretching. 

"Okay, I can't do this. It's whatever."

You laughed. "Just follow me, okay." 

He grabbed onto your arms, and you chose to believe that he had his eyes closed.

You dragged Isaac through the fairgrounds once more before finding your spot in line. You spun him around, facing the opposite way so he couldn't see the ride.

"Do I really have to face the other way?" he said.

"Yes, you do!" you smirked triumphantly.

"Is it just so you can trick me into going back on the carousel?" 

"Maybe…" He chuckled darkly at your comment. 

"You know, I really like hearing your voice," you said calmly.

"Oh yeah? Well, I mean, I do have a pretty good voice."

You chuckled this time, his cockiness ignited something in you, and you felt alive for the first time since you two had started working together. 

"You do… You should let more people hear it."

Every step you advanced in the line caused you to pull Isaac forward, but his mysterious demeanor pulled you to him. 

"Alright, you can turn around now."

When he spun around, he cursed aloud. "Holy shit!"

In front of him stood one of the tallest drop towers he had ever seen.

When you reached the front of the line, you got onto the seats in the tower. Your stomach gurgled angrily in anticipation. 

"You ready?" Isaac asked you. He had a wide grin plastered on his face, and he looked like a kid in a candy store. 

Before you could answer, the tower rocked as it started to move up. 

"Guess it doesn't matter now!"

You both looked out the windows beside your heads. 

It was filled with colors, and everything looked minuscule. 

You were slightly scared of the drop, but you found comfort in Isaac's smile. He never smiled, so for him to smile so brightly, it made you proud that you could draw that emotion from him.

The ride stopped for one minute. Then two. Suddenly it was 5 minutes. 

Everyone began to wonder what had happened to the ride until the sudden drop. 

The ride was filmed with shrilly screams. The sight in front of you blurred with the speed of the drop. Your ears popped from the sudden drop in altitude. Your heart stopped for moments, and you thought for a minute instead of falling back to the ground, you were going to meet your maker. 

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Your screams resonated fear, but Isaac's eyes told you he only felt excitement.

You couldn't feel your hair on your shoulders, and you knew the speed and force were probably holding it in the air. 

The ride had stopped. Your eyes were still bulging out of your head, and you felt sick in your stomach. 

Isaac was still chuckling and didn't look the least bit shaken or stirred.

"HOW CAN YOU BE ALRIGHT AFTER THAT?"

"I don't know, I just felt… Free!"

"C'mon, let's go, weirdo."

Isaac stopped you once you exited the ride and pulled away from the line. 

"Let me pick the next ride, yeah?" Isaac asked you.

"Sure."

He put his hands over your eyes and began pushing you towards your next destination. When he removed his hands, you were at the front of the line to get on the twisting roller coaster.

"We're going on that thing?"

"Yep!"

You blanched. "Isaac, I'll fall out the first time it goes bump."

He pulled you onto the ride anyways and buckled you in so that you couldn't go anywhere. 

"Don' worry, you'll have fun."

"Oh, I know I'll have fun. I'm almost certain I'll die while having fun."

He chuckled and grabbed your hand from your bar that was in front of you. 

"Better?"

You smiled, turned to the front, and waited for the ride to start. 

When the carts began moving, it started at a tortuously slow speed, and you were actually feeling good; you knew that Isaac was probably bored.

"Aw, you picked a slow ride just for me?" you teased.

He simply chuckled before turning his head to the front, and your brows knitted in a frown. 

You gave your attention to where his eyes were, but you didn't see anything that could cause the gleam of deviltry in his eyes. 

He kept checking his watch, but when he did look up from it, he gave you a subtle wink and let go of your hand. 

"AHHHHH!" You shrieked at the top of your lungs when the cart dipped down at the highest speed you thought imaginable.

The blue sky streaked past your view. If you were to imagine how you looked to others, you imagined the flesh around your mouth blowing in the wind cartoonishly and your hair visibly disheveled. You gripped harshly onto the metal rail in front of you, and the bars were so cold from being outside, you thought they would crack had you applied any more force. 

The ride went like this often, going from slow and steady, allowing you to catch your breath, to energetically and rapidly fast, knocking the wind out of you completely. 

"Having fun?" Isaac shouted in your ear, but you could barely hear past the whipping of the wind. 

"NO!" 

Whoops, and cheers could be heard from beside you as Isaac was screaming into the void, and you felt there wasn't enough hot coffee or burning fireplaces that could warm you up after this. 

When the ride had reached its end, you had to blink slowly multiple times to recover from the wind that glazed them with cold air. 

"You!" Isaac chuckled at your tone. "You did this to me! I feel like an ice block!" You shouted sarcastically. 

"Aw, well, let's go warm you up then." 

You growled at him as you got off the cart, but he held you in his arms to warm you up until you were able to get inside the safety of an insulated building. 

"So, you got what you wanted," Isaac said slyly. 

"To have my heart jumping in my body from my shoulders, knees, and toes?"

He chuckled. "No, I mean for me to talk."

"I guess I did."

"Why?"

"I like talking to people, I guess."

He smiled at you, and you reciprocated his grin. 

"So, are we ever going to finish that assignment?" 

"We can go right now and finish it if you want, but we still have two weeks to do it." 

His forehead puckered in thought. "You're right. Let's finish the day here."

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  Research and Reports(One Week Later)

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"Okay, now that we're done with info collection, we have to pick a theme…" you trailed off when you noticed Isaac wasn't paying attention.

"Isaac," you said while snapping your fingers in front of his face.

"You like ABBA?"

"Who doesn't like ABBA? Enough of that, we have to finish working. We only have a week left."

Isaac shot up from his chair and began to inspect the numerous posters on your walls with album covers of your favorite artists, movie premiere covers, pictures of you and your friends throughout the years. 

"This is really cool!"

You sighed heavily. "I know it's cool, but I want to finish this project. I'm on a productive streak."

"We just started school like, two weeks ago. Why do we have a project?" 

"Isaac!"

He raised his hands in defeat. "Okay, fine."

You groaned. "This is pointless. Education is pointless. I'm gonna become a stripper anyway."

Isaac's face heated up. "No, you won't. Your dad would kill you."

"I was actually looking up some themes last night. Put these in your search engine."

"Okay, but wait." You now held his attention. "Who calls it a search engine?" 

You began laughing maniacally, and he grinned. "No, but I'm serious. Who has time to say all of that?"

You did what he told you and put different words related to the industrial period and the words "free theme" in your browser. 

He had found almost five different themes for you to choose one from that would fit your project.

"Just didn't want to do extra work by making our own theme," he said modestly.

Suddenly, he noticed that your phone had a paper towel sticking out of the case and wrapping around the camera.

"Y/n… why is there toilet paper covering your camera?"

"Oh, that. It's so if people try to video-call me, I can lie and say my camera is broken."

"But why?" he asked, concerned.

You sighed. "I just don't wanna show my face to people today." 

"But I can see your face clearly," he squinted while pushing a lock of hair out of your eyesight.

"You're an exception."

"But not the only exception?"

"No, it's you, Stiles, my dad, and Lydia."

He chuckled.

"Let's do this one," you said when you finished analyzing how each theme looked and the possibilities they had. 

You and Isaac began typing on your laptop. You would take turns rotating between typing and reciting in thirty-minute increments. 

By six p.m. that Sunday night, you had practically worked yourself to death and finished the assignment.

When you finished the credits slide, you frowned absentmindedly, but Isaac noticed. 

"What's wrong, you don't like it?"

"No, I like it, it's just that…" you sighed. "We present it, and then what happens?"

"We get a good grade?" Isaac was genuinely confused and didn't know you were talking about what would happen with the two of you and your friendship. 

"Would you say that you only started talking to me because of the project?"

His brows furrowed. "Yes, but wha-"

"And would you say that once the project ends… we would stop talking?"

Isaac sighed once he realized what you meant. "No, Y/n. I genuinely like talking to you." 

Your face heated up at his words, and you felt yourself become at ease. 

"Whew, okay. Nap or TV?" 

Isaac felt himself right back to square one, confusion. "What?"

"Since we're done with the project, do you want to take a nap, or do you want to watch TV?"

"Are you sure your dad doesn't mind?"

"I don't know, but I don't think he would. Stiles always has Scott over. This should be fine. I do it with all my friends."

"O-okay," he murmured. 

You jumped softly onto your bed and shuffled to find the remote, turning on the TV and patting down on the spot beside you. 

"What do you want to watch?"

He told you that anything was fine, so you opted to watch My Babysitters a Vampire. 

He stared at you incredulously. 

You chirped at him. "What is it?"

"No, nothing."

"It has to be something? You don't wanna watch this."

"Alright, fine. It looks like a show for kids!" 

You laughed. "That's because it is a show for kids! But it's interesting, so we're watching it unless you have something better."

When the episode started, you began chanting along with the theme song, and Isaac stared at you with doe-eyes.

When it was finished, you gave his glance your attention. 

"What?" He simply shook his head in response and paid attention to the television.

By the time the next episode started, Isaac's head was on a pillow in your lap. Your legs were crossed, and your fingers threaded their way through his very silky tresses. 

There was a suspenseful moment, and Isaac gripped onto your wrist, making you chuckle in your mind. 

"Oh my gosh, did it just get hot in here?" You were feeling a flash of heat surge through your body and didn't know where it came from.

"Uh, I don't think so? Want me to get you some water?"

"Uh, no, it's fine! I'll just go get us some fruit bars. Do you want Mango or Strawberry?"

After he told you, you went to get a mango pop for yourself and a strawberry one for him. When you reached the kitchen, you splashed water onto your face to cool off. 

You jogged back up the stairs and into your room. "Your strawberry freezy pop is coming right up!"

He giggled at your antics and allowed you to settle back into your position on the bed. 

"Sorry, I watched without you."

"Oh, it's fine. I've seen the entire thing like 3 times."

That night when he left, you had a warm feeling in your heart, but you couldn't place what it felt like exactly.

Before you went to sleep, you made sure that the assignment was saved onto your flash drive and went to bed.

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  Presentations(One Week Later)

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A week later, and it was the first day of presentations. Surprisingly, Isaac volunteered for the pair of you to present first. The nerves in your stomach were fumbling around and curling against each other so roughly you could barely speak. 

Routinely, you and Lydia would go last. Silently comparing your projects with others and finding things your class liked about other presentations that you also did coincidentally. You did this to calm your nerves. But as you were going first, your routine wasn't doable.  

Isaac had finished the slides that he was supposed to say, and then it was your turn. 

You gulped and tried to muster the courage to start saying your lines. You felt sick in your stomach for a while. You felt the room freeze around you as if you were out in the snow with no jacket. You only started feeling more at ease when you felt Isaac's thumb rubbing against the back of your hand soothingly, along with Lydia and Stiles' encouraging smiles in the crowd. You were still nervous, but they were the eyes of your storm.

"Our modern technology today relates to the industrial period because…"

When your presentation was over, you let the applause fill your ears, but that wasn't what made the nerves go away. What made it go away was Isaac's proud gaze beading into your soul, and it made the world fade away. 

Mrs. Goldblatt shooed you both away from the screen and back to your seats but gave you a piece of paper that you assumed was your score sheet. 

You had gotten a 93%, but there was a pink note card that told you to meet her after class along with Isaac.

You sighed heavily and finished the walk back to your seat.

You and Isaac were in the back of the class and were okay to talk without a worry.

"What was that about, Y/n?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed thoughtfully. "You just froze. I didn't think you froze."

You gulped, wondering whether or not you should share your fear with your new friend.

"I have stage fright..."

"What do you mean? You're a cheerleader. I've seen you perform."

"That's an ensemble act. When I'm by myself like that, I just tense up, and normally I say the wrong things. That's why I always go last."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You dropped your head. "I didn't know you were going to volunteer to go first."

"I always do, to get it out the way." His eyes were soft and caring. 

"It's not your fault Isaac. Besides, I didn't mess up that badly anyway. We're okay."

"But I still wouldn't have done that had I known."

"I appreciate your sympathy, but really, It's okay!" You reassured him softly, and you truly meant it. He had made you get over it, so it felt wrong for you to make him feel bad for something he wasn't aware of. 

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  Student-Teacher Conference

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"Yes, Mrs. Goldblatt?" You spoke nervously while shifting around in the seat in front of her desk. 

"What is it?" she was still facing down to her laptop.

Isaac spoke up. "You wanted to see us?"

She raised her head. "Oh, yes!

"I wanted to tell you why I partnered you both together. In-person that is."

"Y/n, you must be thinking that I did it to punish you."

Isaac interjected. "What do you mean punishment?"

"Ms. Stilinski had put your name down for students she wouldn't work well with."

"But besides that. I didn't do it to punish you. I did it because I wanted you to reach out of your comfort zone. Both of you. Ms. Stilinski, you typically work with people who are very talkative in class. Namely, Lydia. 

"Isaac, I've heard from your partners that you are not as talkative. I put you two together because I knew this assignment would be easy to understand for you both. However, I assume the communication was not as simple?" 

You both shook your heads. 

"No, but you managed through it, and now you both will be able to socialize with people who have more or less social skills than you do."

You glanced guiltily at Isaac, who was avoiding your gaze. You hadn't told him that you put his name down, and while your reasoning may not have been resembling hatred, you thought it would still sting.

"You both may go. Have a good day."

When you walked out of the room, Isaac took off ahead of you. 

"Isaac!" You yelled as you ran to catch up with him through the bustling crowd trying to get to their next class. 

"Isaac, I swear, I only wrote your name down because I wanted a partner that was more… communicative."

"You could've told me," he stated simply, still not looking at you. 

You pulled his arm back to stop him from walking before extending your arm to grab his chin and force him to face you. 

"I'm sorry. It didn't seem important then, but I see how it could look bad now. You're a really great partner, Isaac. And I've said it before, and I'll repeat it, I'd love nothing more than to be your friend."

He exhaled through his nose. "You know, for some stupid reason, I just can't stay mad at you."

You smiled at his words. "I've been told that I have that effect on people."

"See you tomorrow?"

You pushed your eyebrows downwards. "What do you mean? It's a Saturday?"

"For MBAV," he said simply.

"Ohhhh. Gotcha!"

"See you then, Isaac." 

You turned the other way to go to your next class when your cheek was met with a brief peck. 

"See you," he whispered in your ear, but a ghost when you turned around. The action made your heart speed up, and his touch left much to be desired.

[sourwolfs-blog]

I posted 2,601 times in 2021

20 posts created (1%)

2581 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 129.1 posts.

I added 1,439 tags in 2021

#teen wolf - 272 posts

#derek hale - 258 posts

#reblog - 206 posts

#sterek - 197 posts

#stiles stilinski - 171 posts

#tyler hoechlin - 124 posts

#gifs by churkey - 105 posts

#tw - 57 posts

#sterek fanart - 25 posts

#tw season 3 - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 79 characters

#instead the sheriff is all teary eyed because his son is graduating high school

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Watch "Monsters - Sterek Animatic" on YouTube

I've been obsessed with watching this video, along with the other one I posted a while ago.

12 notes • Posted 2021-09-29 00:46:09 GMT

#4

Kiss Me Hard (Before You Go) (5348 words) by Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd

Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, First Kiss, First Dates, Falling In Love, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Fluff, Humor, Tumblr Prompt, Originally Posted on Tumblr, One Shot, 5+1 Things, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Mentioned Kate Argent, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, Derek Hale is Not Emotionally Constipated, The Pack Ships It, Erica Reyes Ships It, Five Kisses Challenge, Childhood Trauma

Series: Part 3 of A Collection of 5+1 Things

Summary: Five times Stiles kisses Derek and the one time Derek kisses him back.

13 notes • Posted 2021-02-10 02:43:14 GMT

#3

I Want To Say Yes, Sir (8872 words) Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Background relationships - Relationship

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Jackson Whittemore, Kira Yukimura, Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Talia Hale, Mr Hale, Sheriff Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, alison argent, Jennifer Blake, Kate Argent, Danny Mahealani, Jordan Parrish, Malia Tate, Liam Dunbar, Mason Hewitt

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, High School Student Derek, Young Derek Hale, Dereks got a crush, from a tumblr post, i just love high school au's okay, Frottage, lil smut, Scott's in a weird 3 way with Isaac and Allison and then Kira thing, Popular Derek, Happy Derek, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, stiles ships Stucky whilst Derek loves stony, so yay marvel, References to Marvel, Fluff, not angst because I hate writing angst because it makes me sad and I'm a sap, Artist Stiles, Artist Stiles Stilinski

Summary: “I’ve got a 17 year old boy in the back of my car and I’m running him up to the station.” His dad sighs. “Oooo is he cute?” Stiles asks jokingly. Stiles can practically hear his Dad’s eye roll. He can hear the Sheriff shift as he turns around to look at the boy in the back. “Hey my son wants to know if you’re cute.” He hears the boy on the other end go after a second of hesitation, “I want to say yes, sir.”

His Dad just cracks up laughing.

16 notes • Posted 2021-02-10 16:50:37 GMT

#2

25 notes • Posted 2021-04-04 02:39:08 GMT

#1

I feel like I've been posting a lot about my tattoos lol

@thatweirdpredatorgirl

But my girlfriend and I got these tattoos today! We got them to represent Derek and Stiles. Cause we realized we are basically just the gender-bent versions of them. So this was our anniversary gift to each other.

29 notes • Posted 2021-07-15 23:58:34 GMT

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