#derek hale x female reader

[soulofapatrick]

Rebuilding - Derek Hale x female reader

Summary: You show Derek the rebuilt Hale House you did for him

Words: 1.8k

warnings: none really; heavy making out

Notes: I can make a smutty part two

Y/N’s POV

The old Hale House had stood as a haunting reminder of the past, a testament to the tragedy and loss the family had endured. But now, it has been transformed into something new, something hopeful. With the combined effort of the pack and my Dad, it had become a symbol of rebirth and unity, a mansion that has welcomed every member with open arms and spare rooms for new pack members. 

As I stand in front of the restored mansion, I can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Derek, who had once lived here in its glory days, deserves to see what I’ve done to the place. He’s been through so much, and I wanted this surprise to be a new beginning for him… for us hopefully. 

The anticipation in the air is palpable, and I can’t help but fidget with the key in my hand as I wait for Derek. The old Hale House, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, seems to hold its breath in eager anticipation of his arrival. And then, I hear it - the familiar purr of Derek’s car engine. It’s a sound that I’ve come to associate with his arrival, and my heart quickens in response. The car pulls down the long, winding driveway, and I keep staring at the house, my hands shaking a little as I fiddle with the keys. 

Suddenly, there he is. Derek appears beside me, his tall, brooding frame casting a shadow on the gravel driveway. He looks rugged and handsome as ever, with that alluring air of mystery that has always drawn me to him. His dark brows are furrowed in curiosity and confusion, his eyes scanning the mansion before us as if he’s trying to work out where we are. It makes my heart drop as he doesn’t recognise it despite me trying to keep it as near as I can to the original Hale house. 

But then, something remarkable happens. As his eyes roam over the mansion’s exterior, his brows furrow even deeper, and then there’s a hint of disbelief in his expression. It’s as if the familiarity of the place has begun to dawn on him, piece by piece. The realisation hits him like a tidal wave. His kaleidoscope eyes widen, and a gasps escapes his pretty and plump lips, “Is… is this….?” His voice trembles with emotion, and for a moment, he can’t seem to find the words. 

I hold out the keys for him and he looks between the house and the keys and then back at the house, “I can’t… I… can you…” His voice falters, and it’s clear that he’s fighting back tears, the enormity of the moment almost too much to bear. Without a word, I’m nodding and reaching for his trembling hands. Our fingers interlace, and with a gentle squeeze, I lead him towards the grand entrance. 

Derek’s eyes remain locked onto the mansion, his disbelief and wonder still etched across his features. But he doesn’t need to say anything more for me to understand the whirlwind of emotions storming within him. 

I turn the key in the lock, my own fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The door swings open, revealing the lovingly restored interior. The warm, golden light spills into the entryway, painting a new chapter on the old canvas of the Hale House. The grand entrance is now invitingly open, Derek taking a step forwards. His presence is so close to me that his chest is practically pressed against my back. The feel of him so near is electrifying, and it sends a shiver down my spine. 

“Welcome home Derek.” I say, my voice a soft, heartfelt whisper, as we cross the threshold together. 

The atmosphere inside is a mixture of nostalgia and fresh beginnings. The original features of the Hale House have been preserved, the hardwood floors polished, the walls adorned with artworks from the pack. The spaciousness of the rooms has been maintained, yet there’s a sense of cozy warmth that wasn’t there before. 

Derek’s gaze dances the space, a mixture of awe and sentimentality reflected in his expressive eyes. He appreciates the care and attention that went into preserving the essence of the house he called home. 

Then, he grabs my hands again with a gentle yet firm grip, leading me through the echoing halls as the pack gave us the house for Derek to see alone.  It’s a touch that sends a rush of warmth through me, the electricity of his touch palatable. We move through the house, our footsteps echoing, and Derek’s strides confident, as if he’s revisiting his own memories. 

As we ender the kitchen, Derek stops in his tracks. A soft, almost reverent sound escapes him, and his eyes widen again as he takes in the layout. It’s practically identical to the original Hale House kitchen, meticulously restored to match his recollections with the help of creepy uncle Peter. 

His grip on my hand tightens, and he turns to me, his expression filled with amazement, “This… it’s just like I remember it.” He says, his vice soft and filed with wonder, “You’ve brought it all back to life.” 

I can’t help but smile at his reaction. The kitchen holds countless memories for him, both happy and bittersweet, and seeing it so faithfully restored means the world to him. "We wanted it to feel like home," I reply, my voice equally hushed, knowing how much this place means to him. Derek’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand, his touch conveying the depth of his gratitude. It’s a silent exchange of emotions, the unspoken understanding between us.

And then, something changes in the air. Derek turns to me, his kaleidoscope eyes now shining with warmth and something else, something that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. His gaze flits down my lips, and in response, I can’t help but wet them with my tongue, suddenly feeling acutely aware of their dryness. It draws a small sound from Derek’s throat, low and almost involuntary, a testament to the magnetic pull between us. He leans in, closing the distance between our lips with a purposeful intent. Our mouths meet in a soft, longing kiss, a silent declaration of the emotions that have simmered between us for so long. 

His lips are soft yet insistent, moving against mine with a deliberate tenderness. I can feel the gentle, rhythmic movement of his mouth, each touch setting my heart racing. There’s a hint of urgency in his kiss, a desire that has been simmering just beneath the surface. Derek’s hands finding their way to my waist, holding e close as if he never wants to let me go. The touch of his fingertips against my skin sends shivers down my spine, and I press my body closer to his, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

My own hands move to rest on his chest, feeling the solid warmth of his body beneath my touch. They gradually work their way up, entwining in his shirt, wanting to pull him closer still. The connection between us deepens with every passing second, a silent confirmation of the emotions we’ve held back fr so long. 

Derek’s hands, which had been gently holding my waist, suddenly tighten their grip and before I can react, he’s lifting me up with a powerful yet careful motion. My legs instinctively wrap around this waist as he sets me on the edge of the kitchen island, never once breaking the kiss. 

Our lips remain locked in a heated embrace, a heated embrace, a testament to the fiery passion that's been ignited between us. Derek's tongue brushes over my lips, seeking entrance, and without hesitation, I part them, with a small, embracing sound escaping my lips which he swallows, tongue slipping past my lips. It's a dance of desire, a clash of longing, and a melding of two souls that have been drawn together by an irresistible force. Our mouths move with a shared urgency, each kiss deeper and more consuming than the last.

As our tongues explore and intertwine, Derek’s grip on my hips tightens, pulling me closer until I’m arched on the edge of the kitchen island. The sensation of his body pressed against mine is electrifying, sending heat down south where I’m pressed against his growing problem. It has my thighs tightening around him, hips jerking a little and drawing sounds from both of us. 

Finally our lips part, but only slightly, our foreheads resting against each other as we catch our breath. Derek’s voice is a husky whisper, filled with raw desire, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confesses, his words heavy with yearning, “ I couldn’t keep it in any longer.” 

My heart flutters at his admission, and I look into his kaleidoscope eyes, my own filled with the same longing, “Der…” I breathe, “I’ve felt the same way. I’ve wanted this as much as you have.” 

His lips find mine again, and the kiss that follows is fierce and fervent, a passionate culmination of our unspoken desires. It's a promise, a declaration, and a celebration of the love that has finally been acknowledged. 

But then, Derek's lips trail down from mine to my neck, and his kisses ignite a trail of fire across my skin. I gasp as his mouth leaves a mark, a fervent, possessive hickey, and another one right beside it. Each one is a silent proclamation of his desire, a mark of his longing for me. As Derek's kisses continue to trail down my neck, I gasp and my fingers clutch at his shoulders. The sensation is almost too much to bear, the heat of his mouth leaving a trail of fire across my skin, marked by possessive hickeys.

“Y/N,” He murmurs breathlessly voice heavy with desire, “If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pulls away slightly, his eyes dark and smouldering now and he lets out a low and sensual chuckle when an embarrassing moan escapes me. 

“Maybe…” I have to clear my throat, “Maybe we should check out your room.” My heart is racing as I say it, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and desire, eager to hear his response but also somewhat ready for the rejection. 

Instead, he groans, head falling to my shoulder before he growls out, “Don’t… don’t say things like that baby girl.” I stay silent, knowing there’s more and he kissing my collarbone sweetly before murmuring, “But, I think it’s a very, very good idea.”

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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[arcane-vagabond]

Foul is Fair: Prologue

Foul is Fair: Prologue

Summary: Beacon Hills University has a reputation for being a stepping stone for the elite. Generations of families have walked the halls of the institution, going on to have successful careers upon graduation. Only in the last few decades has the school begun to allow omegas earn their degrees from these hallowed halls, and you consider yourself to be among the few lucky ones. You’re determined to prove that you’re more than your designation, but when the cocky alpha in your English class decides to put you in your place, will you fold? Or will you rise to the challenge?

Content Warnings: Elitism, Omegaverse, First day jitters. Nothing too extreme, but if I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 765

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

The hallway echoed with the dull chatter of your fellow students, fresh back from their time away during winter break. It had been nice to spend time with your family, a quiet holiday at home, snuggled under layers of blankets by the fire as you sipped tea and watched old Christmas movies.

You were happy to be back, though, despite the hecticness of the day. You thought you had a good understanding of where all the buildings on campus were, but had found it somewhat difficult to find the one where your Early Modern English literature class was being held. You huffed as you weaved your way through the crowd, weary of the alphas that towered over everyone, and you found yourself thankful for the fact that you had remembered to renew your subscription for suppressants before returning to campus.

Beacon Hills University was among the most elite schools in the country, nestled in the heart of New England. It was known for its vast array of notable alumni, promising bright futures to the country’s elites. Of course, back when it was first founded, elites solely meant the wealthy alphas whose families could afford to send them there and the odd beta who managed to wiggle their way in. An omega like yourself could only dream of attending such a place up until a few decades ago when the school made the decision to open its doors to all who were eligible.

It hadn’t been a popular decision at the time, of course. Many alumni asked how their children were expected to receive the best education money could buy when there were omegas roaming the campus and causing distractions. Omega rights activists had fired back that alphas should be expected to control themselves everywhere if they were expected to be functioning members of society one day. The outcry had died down soon after that.

Of course, people were still weary of sending their omega children to the school for fear of something happening. Your family had been no different, but you had managed to win a scholarship covering the full cost of attendance, and you would be a fool to not accept a spot that all but guaranteed you a career in your field.

“I’ll be okay,” you had assured your parents, an attempt at a comforting smile on your face as your mother gazed at you worriedly, her bottom lip between her teeth as she chewed on it nervously. Your father, a usually stoic alpha, had a crease between his brows as his only sign of worry.

“I’m sure you will be,” your mother had sighed, reaching to hold your hand in hers, “but we’ll still worry.”

And they still did all this time later. Your mother called you every chance she got, and your father asked you every chance he got to see if you still carried the taser he slipped into your duffel that first day on campus.

Beacon Hills’ campus was small enough that you recognized several people as you continued on down the hall. There was still some time before class, but you would feel better once you found the correct room before stopping to chat with anyone, though you did send the occasional wave and smile to former classmates whose eyes you caught.

You were comfortable here despite all the warnings and misgivings that had plagued you up until your first few weeks of classes your freshman year. Now, you were starting your second half of sophomore year, eager as ever to learn as much as you could and pick the minds of Beacon Hills’ brightest academics. Yes, you were born an omega, the bottom of the barrel in terms of designation and luck, but you were still determined to make something of yourself. You weren’t going to let your designation dictate the confines of your life.

Of course, you wanted to get married and have children someday, you couldn’t deny that, but you wanted more out of life than just all that. You wanted to see the world and figure out who you were before settling down. You wanted to establish a career and leave behind a legacy of your own.

You sighed in relief as you found the room you were looking for—all the way down a back hall and on the left. It was one of the newly renovated lecture halls, and you could already hear several people chatting away inside. You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder before taking a deep breath to calm your first-day jitters. Things were going to work out for you.

A/N: And here it is! I know Bucky won the poll, but it just felt so right to do it with Derek, you know? Maybe I'll tackle a College!Bucky AU one day if I get inspired with another story, but we'll see! I'm excited to share this story with you guys, and if you've been around long enough, you'll know that this was originally going to be a story for the Top Gun: Maverick fandom with Jake Seresin!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Wherever You Will Go - Derek Hale x Reader

A/N: Inspired by the song Wherever You Will Go by The Calling

pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

warnings: angst-ish with fluffy ending, mild swearing, pining, toxic relationships.

word count: 2.4k

“If a great wave shall fall, and fall upon us all, well then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you”

You and your friends piled into your usual booth at the bar, the same one you frequented so many times years ago when you still lived in Beacon Hills, barely old enough to drink, and with no real responsibilities of adulthood to your name apart from the odd phone bill and college tuition payment. Your friends had always called you sheltered, although back then, you didn’t really know what that meant. You had led a cushioned existence until your early twenties came, sick of being the well-behaved, pampered princess your friends and classmates thought you were (and really, you had to admit now looking back, they weren’t wrong), you rebelled. It started with being more open to attending parties, going out with friends every time they invited you, rather than turning them down to study as you usually did. 

Then, you met him.

At this point, you weren’t even sure what it was about Derek that reeled you in, other than the fact that he was everything your parents didn’t want you to date. Reserved, mysterious, rebellious, and often the centre of controversy - you knew Derek was the exact opposite of who everyone expected you to end up with, and that seemed to make you want him all the more at the time. He’d been resistant towards you at first - shrugging you off with a cold shoulder the first time you’d attempted to flirt with him. He was always so closed off, and he liked it that way. 

Everyone you knew warned you that he wasn’t the type to open up and make you swoon with romantic gestures or musings of love - all things you’d talked about wanting from a partner - but once you did start to break down the walls he’d built, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was a different person under the persona. He was caring and passionate, even if he didn’t convey his feelings very well most of the time. Behind the frosty cold exterior he’d created for himself, was someone who just wanted to be loved and appreciated, someone who was scared of losing the people he was close to, and someone who was building up walls to guard themself from getting hurt.

Your love for Derek was hard and fast - you fell almost instantly when he rejected you the first time. You’d spent your whole life always getting what you wanted, and the fact that he’d denied you without as much as a second thought that first time made you crave him all the more. By the second attempt at conversation, you’d changed your approach from flirtatious to friendly, and you’d begun to wear down his resistance little by little, with Derek offering to buy you a drink by the end of the night. By that point, your friends had gone home, and you’d forgotten entirely about how that had meant walking home alone in the dark. 

Derek sarcastically made a comment about not wanting to be questioned by the police if you didn’t make it home safe, with him being the last person you were seen with, and offered to walk you home. The next morning came the first text message, a simple, sarcastic, “Did you make it into bed without dying?” from Derek. Your reply was something along the lines of “Barely, but I’m here. Thanks for walking me home.”, and from there, you thought that the conversation would trail off, fizzling out and leaving you with nothing more than a one time gesture of friendliness from him. However, something ignited between the two of you - and to be honest, neither of you knew where it came from or why, but to everyone on the outside looking in, they’d say Derek fell as hard and fast as you did. 

That one time text exchange turned into daily text messages checking in to see how you were, what your plans were, what his plans were, how he was, if he was planning on being at the bar again when the next night of drinking with your friends rolled around. From there came sneaking Derek into your bedroom window like a pair of high school lovers, forbidden from seeing each other past curfew. One night together turned into a weekly occurrence, and the weekly escapades of sneaking Derek in or you sneaking out turned into nightly rituals of hooking up in any space that was deemed discreet enough to hide your indiscretions. 

All the old memories of your relationship with Derek came flooding back to you as you sipped your tequila sunrise, but just as quickly as they came, you were brought back to your senses by the sounds of your friends laughing and joking about their old college boyfriends. You blinked your eyes a couple of times as you stared off into space before snapping back to reality and looking to your friends, who were now glancing at you with raised eyebrows and sideways looks to one another. 

“You still with us?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just, thinking is all.” “Oh god, here we go.” Your friends all collectively let out a playful groan as they laughed, shaking their heads. Natalie, the least reserved of your group, looked at you with a knowing smirk as she put the straw of her drink to her lips, taking a sip.

“You were thinking about Derek, weren’t you? Wanting him to just walk through that door and sweep you away or some shit?”

“No, but weren’t we just discussing college boyfriends? He was my college boyfriend for two years,” you retorted dryly as you sipped your drink, shooting Natalie a dirty look as she teased you.

“I don’t think any sane person would call what you and Derek had a “healthy relationship”. You literally snuck him around like he was some kind of fugitive.”

“I did not. We just…liked the privacy.”

“Well, the way he ended things alone is reason to stop thinking about him. He was an asshole.”

You felt yourself fighting the urge to defend him and his actions, but you couldn’t deny the fact that Derek had ended things abruptly with you, and that you’d been heartbroken at the time. You knew he had his reasons - he had secrets and he was trying to protect you from them. 

He was scared and didn’t want you to get hurt or risk losing you to something beyond his control, so by making it his decision to let you go, he figured you’d both be better off for it. At the time, you’d argued, stamped your feet, threw your fists against his chest, all but begging him to reconsider, but you knew it was futile, and that his mind was made up. It’d crushed you, but part of you always knew that when your relationship moved at the speed of light, it had to come crashing to a halt at some stage. It just happened sooner and more abruptly than you’d expected. Still, despite you understanding he was doing what he thought was best for both of you, part of you resented him for how coldly and nonchalantly he’d done it. How he’d just ended things without as much as giving you a chance to fight for your relationship.

“It was three years ago. I’m over it,” you responded coyly as you sipped your cocktail, trying to brush off your lingering feelings, or drown them in alcohol.

“Really? Let’s test that theory, because I think he just walked in.” Your head spun around a little faster than you should have considering the tequila you had coursing through your veins at the moment, your eyes looking towards the doorway expectantly as you held your breath before your gaze landed on him. Sure enough, there was Derek, haunting your otherwise uneventful night out with your friends like a nightmare personified. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him again, but for every happy memory that came to mind, a dozen reminders of how you’d felt when he left you would accompany them.

“I doubt he’ll say anything, and even if he does, I’m over it,” you reaffirmed, nodding your head as you looked back at your friends seated around the table. 

“You’re right. He never did talk much. I always wondered what exactly you saw in him. He was always so…weird.”

As you opened your mouth to defend your relationship with Derek, you stopped, letting out a slight huff instead. You knew your friends were baiting you at this point, trying to get you to prove that you weren’t truly over Derek. And really, how could you be? He was your first everything - your mother warned you that you never forget your firsts, and as ridiculous as you thought she was at the time, in Derek’s case, it was true. You still loved him, as much as you hated to admit it.

You still loved the way his lips would turn up into a smirk whenever you said something he found amusing, like he was trying his hardest not to smile in public out of fear his reputation as a stoic, reserved individual could be blown. You loved the way his eyes weren’t quite green, yet weren’t quite hazel - sort of a colour all on their own. You loved the way that he would steal a kiss when he thought no one was around, his hand resting on your waist as he pulled you in to his body, holding you as close to him as physically possible, your body heat radiating between you. It had always been like he was starved for your touch, despite having seen him just a day before, and as soon as he held you close, you could see everything in him relax, all the tension and trauma he’d been holding on to, melting away for a brief time with you. 

Turning your attention to your empty glass, you frowned as you excused yourself to head to the bar. You felt your friends watching you closely, almost protectively keeping a gaze on you in case Derek should approach with an unwanted reunion. You let out a sharp exhale as you tried to collect yourself, having not stood this close to him in three years, at least. You couldn’t let him get to you. You knew what would happen if he even as much looked in your direction. You’d get pulled back in within an instant - faster than your heart could beat. You couldn’t let yourself do it again. 

You pretended to not see Derek, indifferent towards him, pretending he didn’t exist. Ordering yourself another drink, you leaned against the bar, your back turning to him in hopes he wouldn’t even see you there. However, sooner than you could request for the drink to go onto your tab, a leather jacket-clad arm extended in front of you, holding a credit card in its hand. The smell of Derek’s cologne enveloped your senses, pulling you in, intoxicating you as it wrapped around you. 

“I’ve got it, thanks,” you responded, yet finding yourself unable to push Derek’s hand away, knowing for sure that if you as much as brushed your hand against his, you’d be a goner for sure.

“I insist,” Derek said, without further argument.

Your drink was handed to you and the moment it entered your hand, you pressed your lips to the straw, taking a drink. You needed the alcohol if you were going to deal with Derek once again and confront your lasting feelings for him once and for all. You turned to face him, your expression cold and and collected as you looked at him, trying to avoid direct eye contact.

“Thanks, but that was entirely unnecessary.”

“I think I owe you a drink, at the very least.”

“I would have settled for an apology.”

“Fine, consider it my way of apologizing,” Derek said coldly, shrugging his shoulders with indifference as he nodded his head. 

“That’s a pretty piss poor excuse for an apology, but ok,” your tone was bordering on cruel as you spoke to him, it almost surprised you how non-caring you sounded.

“Look, maybe I didn’t do things right the first time,” Derek’s voice trailed off as he spoke, almost sheepish as he stopped just short of admitting guilt for how your relationship deteriorated.

“You think?”

Derek sighed as he dragged one of his hands over his face in exasperation and frustration, almost as if he was struggling to find the words to speak, and to make you understand him. He huffed as he looked down at you, shaking his head as if making a desperate attempt to formulate his thoughts before opening his mouth.

“Fine, I admit it. I fucked up. Happy?”

“Not really. That doesn’t make three years of you never really explaining why you couldn’t be bothered to give me a chance just magically go away, Derek.”

Derek furrowed his brows, shaking his head again and sighing. His hand snuck its way around to your waist, pulling you in towards him with one smooth fluid motion. Part of you wanted to push him away, humiliate him by dumping your drink over him and storm out, but the other part of you knew that you’d been craving something like this for the last three years, and you weren’t about to throw it away, especially if it was the last opportunity you might have to kiss him. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, almost inaudibly as he breathed the words into your ear. 

“That’s more like it,” You felt yourself smirking as he held you close to his body, knowing for a fact that you wanted him as badly as he wanted you and vice versa. The feel of his hand on your body made your heart race, sending shivers up your spine as he gently gripped your hip.

“You know, if you’re willing, I have three years to make up for, I think,” Derek murmured, his lips brushing against your ear in the way he always did when he was trying to be affectionate towards you.

“I think I could make room for you in my busy schedule. You’ve got a group of girls who think you’re the enemy though, Derek. You may have to charm them too,” You grinned, nodding your head towards your friends who all looked ready to get up and fight Derek until they saw the grin on your face.

“Let me make things up to you first, then you can decide if you want me to try my hand at grovelling to them too, ok?”

[ellswritings]

Magic Bullet 1x04

Episode 5

“If Derek isn't the Alpha... if he's not the one who bit you... then who did?” Stiles questions as their teacher passes out the graded tests they all took. Fallon rubs her eyes tiredly, exhausted from how late she stayed up going to see Derek. She doesn’t necessarily regret going, but now she feels an unnatural anger towards the man. He told her to stay out of the way. It’s unbelievable. All she wants to do is help and make sure no more people die, and yet he makes it seem as though she’s the problem.

“I don’t know,” Scott answers.

Stiles sighs and sits back in his seat for the briefest moment before thinking of another question and leaning forward, gently smacking Scott in the back with the back of his right hand. “Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?”

Scott whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Fallon answers at the same time, a small yawn escaping her lips.

The two boys turn to look at her. She’s sitting next to Stiles in the row over. She freezes, realizing she just answered a question she shouldn’t even have any context to. Stiles narrows his eyes at her, “How do you know?”

She shrugs, trying to cover it up. “Just a hunch, I guess.”

“You’re lying,” Scott furrows his eyebrows. “I just heard your heart beat. It went up. How do you know?” He reiterates the question.

The brunette sighs. There’s no point in keeping it a secret, “I saw Derek last night…” she admits. “After the bus driver died, I wanted to know what was going on. So I went to hear it from him.”

“Are you stupid?!” Stiles scoffs, throwing his pencil at her. “What if he killed you, huh? Then what?”

“Well, I’m sitting right next to you so, I wouldn’t know,” she replies sarcastically.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Scott scolds.

“You did,” Fallon points out incredulously, baffled by his hypocrisy.

“But I can protect myself in ways that you can’t,” he insists.

“Y’know I’m getting real tired of everyone assuming Stiles and I are useless just because we don’t have magical werewolf abilities,” she glares at him.

“I never said you were useless.”

“Okay!” Stiles whisper yells, stopping the argument from moving forward. “Moving on…” he turns his attention back to Scott. “Does Allison’s dad know about the Alpha?”

Scott, feeling overwhelmed by the mini argument with Fallon, along with the incessant questions from Stiles, loses his temper. “I don’t know!” He replies in a loud voice causing the teacher and pretty much every student in the class to look back at the three of them. He tries to play it off by looking out the window while Stiles sinks down into his chair. Fallon simply smiles fakely at the onlookers who turn away from the awkward situation.

Stiles is handed back his test first out of the three and is satisfied by the "A" he received. Fallon gets hers next, a small smirk on her face as she reads “A+” with a one-hundred percent written next to it. However, Scott sighs loudly when he's handed his, which has a “D-” written on it, Stiles leans forward to look at it and mutters sarcastically over Scott's shoulder, “Dude, you need to study more!”

Scott slams his test down on the desk, shooting Stiles a menacing glare. Stiles scoffs defensively, pushing himself away from Scott. “That was a joke, Scott,” he explains. “It’s one test! You’re gonna make it up. Do you want help studying?”

“Yeah, we can meet at my place tonight if you want,” Fallon suggests kindly, despite their previous argument. “We can make our own personalized pizza’s and stuff.”

Scott sighs, “No, I’m studying with Allison after school today.”

Stiles grins suggestively and pats Scott on the back proudly, “That’s my boy!”

Fallon rolls her eyes, kicking Stiles from across the way. “I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Boundaries.”

Scott nods along with Fallon, sending Stiles a pointed look, “We’re just studying.”

“Uh, no, you’re not,” Stiles scoffs, rubbing his shin where the angry brunette just kicked it.

Scott frowns in confusion, “No, I’m not?”

Stiles rolls his eyes in exasperation as though it’s obvious to what he’s referring to. “Not if I’m forced to live vicariously through you!” He exclaims. “If you go over to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I swear to God, I’ll have you de-balled.”

“You seriously need to get laid,” Fallon says to Stiles, taking out her book and burying her nose in it. Their teacher gave them the rest of the period off to do homework anyway.

“I’m well aware of that, thank you,” he replies as if what he said is a good comeback.

“Okay,” Scott looks at them with annoyed eyes. “Just... stop with the questions.”

Stiles nods with a grin, “Done. No more questions. No more talk about the Alpha, or Derek…” he trails off, his eyes going unfocused as he remembers the intimidating man. No doubt recalling their last interaction in the back of the police cruiser. “Especially Derek… who still scares me…”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon makes her way over to the girls locker room after the last bell of the day. She likes being able to change in her own space for lacrosse practice because no one’s ever in here after school. The only time she usually has to share is with the off season soccer girls who only use it to get ready for training. The brunette walks over to one of the stalls, using the restroom before changing into her gear. She still has a headphone in, listening to her playlist to keep her mind occupied. She flushes the toilet before exiting the bathroom and washing her hands. She hums under her breath, watching as the water trickles down her skin.

“Holy shit!” She screams loudly when she looks into the mirror and sees a pale, almost dead looking Derek Hale standing behind her. He sways back and forth on his feet, his blue eyes looking more gray by the second. That’s when she notices the gaping bullet hole in his arm. Derek stumbles, almost falling to the floor, but Fallon rushes forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to hold him up. He’s a lot heavier than she thought. “What happened?” She asks, her voice laced with concern.

He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was shot,” he manages to get out. Blood drips down his arm and off of his fingertips, leaking onto her shoes. She grimaces, but knows that her shoes are not the priority right now.

“I’m sorry, you got what?!” Her eyes widen as she moves frantically to have him sit down on one of the benches in the locker room. “By who?” She runs over to her locker, grabbing a spare shirt and a pair of scissors from her backpack. Her father’s words come into mind on how to take care of a gunshot wound. She cuts a long piece of fabric out of the material before going back over to Derek and creating a makeshift tourniquet. “By the way, this is gonna hurt, so brace yourself.”

“Wha–?” He lets out a low growl as she ties it as tightly as she can. The bleeding slowly slightly, but the wound still looks nasty. His eyes flash a bright blue for a moment before turning back to their normal color.

“Why aren't you healing?” She asks, looking over his form. A wound this small should’ve been nothing for the werewolf.

“I can’t,” he groans in pain. “It wasn’t a normal bullet. It’s different.”

“Like wolfsbane different?” She asks worriedly, remembering the different things she read in the book Stiles gave her.

Derek looks surprised by her second question, impressed by her knowledge. His head lulls forward and onto her shoulder, “Wolfsbane,” his voice turns into a whisper. “Need to find Scott. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Fallon answers, lifting him off the bench with a grunt. “We don’t have the same last class.” She manages to get them over to the door and out into the hallway. She eyes him sadly, trying her hardest to get him outside. Her arm wraps around his waist as another method to keep him up and secure. He’s trying to help hold his own body weight, but it’s no use. He’s fading, and fast. “C’mon Derek, stay with me,” she mumbles.

They barrel out of the exit doors and Fallon stops, looking over all the heads of the students to try and find Scott. She huffs as the line of cars is long and completely backed up. There’s no way she can get him anywhere safely on her bike, but her eyes brighten when she notices the blue Jeep sitting at the front of the masses of cars.

“Okay, I’m not seeing Scott, but Stiles is right there,” she assures him, starting to drag his limp body over to the vehicle.

“No. Absolutely not,” Derek denies, trying not to go in the direction Fallon’s forcing him in. “I don’t want help from your spaz head of a boyfriend.”

Fallon sighs, rolling her eyes as she continues hauling him. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she corrects. “And unless you wanna brave it out on my motorcycle, this is the best option.”

Derek doesn’t have time to protest as Fallon stops them right in front of Stiles’ car. She puts her hand up to stop him from going and her best friend slams on his breaks. He throws his hands up in annoyance, mumbling something under his breath as he moves to get out of the car. Horns blare from every direction and that’s when Fallon feels Derek start swaying again. “No, no, no, no, don’t fall! Derek, don’t fall!”

“I’m falling,” he whispers. His body starts leaning backwards, too far backwards for Fallon to keep up. She tries to use one last surge of strength to force him up, but it’s too late. His body's stature is no match for her. They fall into the asphalt with a loud thump. Both of them groan in pain and Fallon gets up, lifting his head to put on her legs so he has some way of sitting up.

Scott apparently saw the whole ordeal from the bike rack. He rushes over to Stiles’ jeep where his two best friends are taking care of Derek. Stiles is clearly the most pissed one out of the three of them, peeved Derek stopped him from going to play video games.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks, blocking Derek’s view from the agitated students. They don’t need to see a dying werewolf in the middle of the school parking lot.

He tries to move himself away from Fallon’s lap, but his limbs are all too limp to get very far. “I was shot,” he gasps out, pointing to the hole in his arm.

“He’s not looking so good, dude,” Stiles looks at him warily.

“I wonder why,” Fallon says sarcastically.

“Okay, you know what? Now is not the time,” Stiles narrows his eyes at her.

Scott frowns in confusion, inspecting the injury. “Why aren’t you healing?” He asks the same question Fallon did

“I can’t,” he huffs tiredly, giving up and collapsing fully into Fallon. Blood seeps from his arm and into her blue jeans and she has to look up in the sky to prevent herself from being disappointed at her now stained clothing. “It was- it was a different kind of bullet.” He repeats the same story he gave to Fallon.

Stiles perks up, all of his supernatural dreams coming true. “A silver bullet?”

“No, you idiot,” Derek snaps irritatedly.

Scott looks as if he just put together something super important, “Wait, wait– that's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours…”

Derek’s eyes widen in alarm, “What? Who-who said forty-eight hours?”

“The one who shot you,” Scott answers.

Suddenly, Derek is hit with a powerful wave of pain that causes his eyes to flash bright blue, the same way they did when Fallon put the tourniquet on him. He grimaces in agony. When he opens his eyes again, they're continuing to flash back and forth between his werewolf blue eyes and his human green eyes. Scott looks horrified, his eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching before he mutters at Derek forcefully, “What are you doing? Stop that!”

“Scott, I don’t think he can,” Fallon whispers urgently. “He can’t control it.”

The boy looks at Derek, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Derek, get up.”

The line of cars start to get more impatient. As soon as they see people starting to get out of their vehicles to approach them, they realize that they need to get out of there. Now. Scott pulls Derek to his feet, the man wobbling from the sudden force. He latches onto Fallon once more, the brunette grunts but wraps her arms around his midsection anyway to keep him steady. Once she was sure they could move without collapsing again, she got him inside of Stiles’ jeep, placing him gently in the passenger seat. She huffs, realizing she’ll have to leave her bike here, but there’s no way she’s going to let Stiles handle Derek in the jeep alone. He’ll just have to take her back for her motorcycle later.

Fallon sits comfortably in the back, Stiles getting into the driver’s side. Derek sticks his head out the window, “I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used.”

Scott scoffs, “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” He asks, throwing his arms up.

“Because she’s an Argent,” he says. “She’s with them.”

Scott narrows his eyes, “Why should I help you?”

Fallon looks at him with an exasperated expression. Now is not the time for vendetta’s or looking for reasons to help someone. She sends her friend a begging look, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Because, you need me,” Derek answers in a weak voice.

Scott looks over and sees a confused Allison walking toward them and decides to wrap up this scene as quickly as possible, “Fine,” he sighs. “ I'll try.” Scott turns to look at Stiles, who's expression makes it clear that he's feeling very put-out at the moment. “Hey, get him out of here.

Stiles shoots Scott a death-glare, “I hate you for this, so much.” Stiles puts the car into drive and sets off just as Allison comes up. They’re speeding out of the parking lot, happy to get away from the angry crowd that started forming around them.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles drives the injured wolf and Fallon in his jeep. There’s a tense silence surrounding them, Derek grunting in pain while Stiles shoots him angry side glances. Fallon taps her foot impatiently as she stares at her text message thread with Scott. She has to have texted him at least eight times in the past twenty minutes. She doesn’t mean to rush, but this situation seems pretty dire. Like go there, find it, make up an excuse and leave kind of situation. Not go have a whole dinner with her family.

“What the hell is taking him so long?” Fallon grumbles, tossing her phone to the seat next to her. Her frustration is evident which only gets worse when Stiles smirks at her through the rear view mirror.

“Maybe he’s busy…” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Y’know gettin’ busy.”

Fallon cringes at the innuendo, “Are you serious right now?” She scolds him.

“Stop talking,” Derek seethes, closing his eyes tightly. They stopped flashing between blue and green which is a good sign, but the low growl in his voice is enough to make her sink back into her seat.

“I’m just saying,” Stiles defends himself. “Maybe he hasn’t done anything because he’s having fun. Which is what we should be doing rather than lugging dead wolf meat around,” he chides. That stupid smile appears on his face again, “I mean, I could totally see him and Allison–”

“Stop!” Derek shouts at the spastic boy, dangerously close to striking him in the back of the head.

“Okay, you don’t need to be yelling,” Fallon directs at Derek, staring at him through the mirror. “So why don’t you stop talking and sit there squirming in pain.”

He looks back at her, fury in his irises. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you need us a hell of a lot more than we need you,” Fallon narrows her eyes. “You came to me to save your ass, remember that? You’re the one bleeding out.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, and uh speaking of that, try not to get it all over my seats, kay? We’re almost there anyway.”

“Almost where?” Derek hisses, turning his attention away from the brunette in the back. His hand is still covering the wound, blood slowly seeping onto his fingers. The tourniquet is still doing its job of slowing down the bleeding, but judging by his half-lidded eyes, it’s not going to do any good for much longer.

“Your house,” Stiles says, his voice calmer than it was a second ago. He slows to a stop when the traffic light ahead turns red. There’s no one else on the road with them which makes having Derek in the car less difficult. No one to explain their actions to.

“What?” Derek’s head snaps over the boy. “No, you can’t take me there.”

Stiles looks at him incredulously, “I can’t take you to your own house?”

“Not when I can’t protect myself!” Derek argues.

Stiles huffs angrily before turning his wheel roughly. He pulls off to the side of the road, turning off the jeep as he faces Derek fully, his nostrils flaring. “All right. What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?”

“Not yet,” Derek shakes his head.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t,” Fallon mumbles.

“I have a last resort,” he reveals, groaning loudly when another wave of pain hits him.

“What do you mean? What last resort?” Stiles yells.

Derek pulls his sleeve up fully, exposing the wound in all its glory. Fallon hadn’t seen the whole thing, only what his ripped shirt permitted. Stiles flinches violently from the sight while gagging, “Oh, my God. What is that?” He averts his gaze, looking out the window. “Oh, is that contagious?” He gasps. “You know what, you should probably just get out.”

“Stiles start the damn car!” Fallon yells at him. “He’s dying, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need you making a bigger deal of it.”

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Derek adds menacingly.

“Again, not dating,” she points between her and Stiles.

“Hey! Alright, I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think, if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little Werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.”

Silence.

“Start the car… or I’m gonna rip your throat out… with my teeth,” Derek growls menacingly.

The two boys stare at each other for a solid minute or so before Stiles finally reaches for the keys, sliding them into the ignition. Fallon exhales softly, melting into her seat as she thanks whatever force out there stopped a fight between Stiles and a man twice his size.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon bites her nails anxiously as she and Scott text back and forth. Derek’s not looking too good, Scott. Have you found anything?

His response comes back short. Need more time. She puffs out an irritated breath. That’s the only response she’s gotten from him in about two and a half hours. The sun is already set and it’s starting to become dark out. The sky was an ombré of red, orange, yellow, and blue as the night approaches. Fallon feels terrible for Stiles and the fact he had a full tank before this fiasco started. They’ve been driving around all day. They had no idea where to take Derek. Stiles’ house was obviously a no go as his dad is the sheriff and would probably lose his mind if he found out Derek had been there. They can’t take him to Scott’s either as Melissa would freak out if they snuck in unannounced again.

“Why can’t we just take him to your place?” Stiles suggests.

Fallon shakes her head, “My dad’s off tonight.”

“But he’s fine with Scott and I being there all the time,” Stiles shrugs.

“Because he knows you both,” Fallon counters. “We could probably get away with it if your dad didn’t tell him about all the crime life here,” she sighs. “But he does. So my dad knows what the almost dead werewolf here looks like,” she says, eyeing up the man in the passenger seat. “And let’s just say he wouldn’t exactly be keen on having an almost murderer in his house.”

“Thanks,” Derek shoots a glare her way.

“I’m not the one who reported you to the sheriff,” she reminds him. “Your issues are with him,” she points to Stiles, “and your bestie beta who’s currently finding the magical bullet to save your life.”

“I am going to claw your eyes out if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” his eyes flash blue in her direction.

“Take my ears off while you’re at it,” she suggests sarcastically. “That way I won’t have to hear you complain about everything.”

“I’m so confused whether you like each other or not,” Stiles furrows his eyebrows.

“Not,” Derek answers while Fallon says, “It’s complicated,” at the same time.

The two passengers jerk to the side as Stiles rapidly pulls over once more. He picks up his phone too fast, almost dropping it in the process as he brings it up to his ear. “Oh thank God,” he breathes out. “Did you find anything… Well, what are we supposed to do with him?” He groans.

Fallon leans forward, gripping Stiles’ chair, “What’s he saying?”

Stiles swats her away like a mother would her child. Fallon scrunches her eyebrows, leaning back in her seat offended. “And, by the way, he’s starting to smell,” there’s a short pause. “Like death.”

Derek sends Stiles a withering glance before turning to look at Fallon, “Do I really smell like death?” He questions.

“Are you sure you want me to answer?” She snarks with a quirked brow. “Wouldn’t wanna make you claw my eyes out or anything,” she mocks his previous statement. Derek clenches his fists as he stares at her and she just smiles fakely. “And yes, you do smell like death.”

“Yeah, and they won’t stop arguing like freakin’ children. I feel like I’m running a daycare here. They got along for like the first hour and then all hell broke loose,” Stiles complains. Both Fallon and Derek resist the urge to physically harm the boy in some way. The crease in Stiles’ forehead deepens at whatever Scott says, “What about your boss?”

Stiles throws his head back into his chair before holding the phone out for Derek to take, “You’re not gonna believe where he’s asking me to take you.”

Derek ignores him, taking the chance to talk to Scott. “Did you find it?” He waits for Scott to explain what he’s been doing for the past almost three hours. “Look, if you don’t find it, then I’m dead, all right?… Then think about this-- the Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time, either you kill with him, or you get killed. So, if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The jeep rolls up to the animal clinic, taking one of the many empty parking spaces by the back entrance. Fallon tells Stiles to go find the key to unlock the building and that she’ll get Derek. She runs around to the passenger side, opening the door for the man. They resume their position from earlier at the school, his arm haphazardly draped over her shoulders and her arms securely fastened around his waist . She drags him towards the door, Stiles holding it open as his phone buzzes with another message from Scott.

“Please tell me he found something,” she begs, panting heavily as she goes to set him down in the back room.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, “Maybe…” He looks up from his device to glance at Derek, “Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?” He asks.

Derek nods, his head flopping slightly so Fallon lifts it up. “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?” Fallon queries as they finally reach the table. She pushes his body against it so she’s not holding him up entirely on her own.

Derek looks up at her weakly, “ ‘Cause I’m gonna die without it.”

Fallon’s heart drops into her stomach, “Crap…” she mumbles with a shaky exhale. She turns to look at Stiles, “Tell him to get here. Now.”

The threatening sound in her voice has Stiles scrambling to send Scott the message, informing him of the scary look on Fallon’s face. Derek begins tearing off hit clothing, ripping off his leather jacket smoothly before pulling his shirt with one hand over his head. He discards them by throwing them across the room before collapsing against the table once more. He lays his arm out for display, the bullet hole being a strange blue color, no doubt a reaction from the wolfsbane that’s slowly inching towards his heart. The blood dripping out of him is now black while the same color veins stretch up his arm from the wound.

Stiles bites his fist at the sight, gagging as he tries not to vomit all over the place. “Okay, you know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of,” he waves off optimistically, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Fallon smacks him, “We are not leaving him, Stiles. He’s dying.” She shuffles through Destin’s things, trying to find some sort of surgical tool. “What we should do is get the bullet fragments out and try to stitch it up.” Working in the hospital has some perks. She might not legally be allowed to perform such a procedure, but nothing about this screams concern for legality.

“That won’t work,” Derek shakes his head which stops her from looking. “It’s already in my system. When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me,” he breathes out.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?” He snarks sarcastically.

“Why don’t you try being shot in the arm,” Fallon quips back at her friend.

Stiles throws his hands up with an exhausted scoff, “Who’s side are you on?! One minute you’re arguing with him and telling him to die, the next you’re yelling at me! Make up your damn mind!”

Derek rips off Fallon's tourniquet, interrupting their argument as he attempts to replace it with a blue elastic band. She watches as he goes to tie it with his mouth and stops him. He glares at her as she takes it from him, a glare which she reciprocates before helping him put it in the same spot the other was. “If Scott doesn’t get here with the bullet in time– last resort,” he pants while looking through the drawers.

“Which is what?” Fallon questions.

He pulls out a small saw making her and Stiles grow paler than him. “You’re gonna cut off my arm.”

“Me?!” Fallon shouts, about ready to go along with Stiles’ plan and run out of there.

“No,” he denies before glancing at freckles. “Stiles.”

“What?!” He screams the same way Fallon did. “No. No, no, no, no, no, that’s not fair! Why do I have to do it? She’s more heartless than I am, she can do it,” he points.

Fallon scoffs and goes to rip him a new one, but Derek cuts her off. “No, Fallon needs to hold me down.”

“Why can’t I do that?” Stiles throws his arms up.

“Because looking between the two of you, I can tell her arms won’t snap if I start to push back,” Derek insults. “I need someone with muscle to be able to keep me from squirming.”

Stiles looks more than offended, “I- I have muscle,” he counters.

Derek sends him a pointed look which makes the boy shrink in on himself. Fallon takes a nervous step forward, standing next to Derek as she gets ready to hold him down. I’ll just close my eyes, she tells herself. I won’t get nightmares. This’ll be fine.

“What if you start begging me to let go and it’s too late?” She asks him, her concerns growing with every second she stares at the saw.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he answers.

“How do you know?” She scoffs. The black veins in his arm are starting to become much more prominent. “What if you try to tell me to let go because you’re bleeding out and I don’t hear you? Then you die from getting your arm sawed off. I don’t want to watch you die.”

Derek leans further into the table, “It’ll heal if it works.”

Stiles eyes the saw with a sickly expression. He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know if I can do this,” he admits, his overactive imagination not doing him any favors.

“Why not?” Derek says impatiently.

Stiles looks at him like he’s stupid, “Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!” He lists off exasperatedly.

“You faint at the sight of blood?” Derek asks incredulously.

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!” Stiles screeches in response.

“All right, fine. How about this– either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head,” Derek threatens.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Okay, you know what? I'm so not buying your threats any–” Derek cuts him off by yanking him forward by the collar of his shirt. Stiles’ eyes widen as he tries to get out of his hold. “Oh, my God!” He gasps. “Okay. All right. Bought. Sold. Totally. I'll do it. I'll do it.”

Derek let’s go of him, the boy pushing himself away from the older werewolf. He turns to say something to Fallon, but she can see the distant look on his face. “Derek, what’s wrong?” She asks attentively. Instead of answering, his cheeks puff out and he lurches forward. Her eyes widen and she tries to take a step back, covering her face with her arms. His mouth flies open and black projectile vomit comes out of his mouth, splattering all over her. She gasps as the hot liquid drips down her body.

Fallon exhales with a small whimper. She shakes her hands, some of the vomit flinging off of her fingers. “It’s fine…” she tries to convince herself. “Everything’s fine… I didn’t even like this shirt anyway.”

Stiles' jaw hits the floor, his own bile rising in his throat. “Holy God, what the hell is that?!”

Fallon turns to Stiles, her facial expression is blank. “Stiles,” she wipes her cheek. “Do what he says.”

“But–” he goes to point at the saw.

“Now!” She screams at him. Despite the vomit all over her, she walks behind Derek and gets a good grip on him. She holds his arm in place and glares at Stiles, “Do it, now.” She orders, nodding towards the saw.

He grabs the saw for a moment before looking up to protest, “Look, honestly, I don’t think I can–”

“Just do it!” Derek and Fallon yell at the same time.

Stiles jumps at how scary their symphony of voices sound together. “Oh, my God. Okay, okay…” He starts the saw, a loud sound accompanying it. He starts putting it towards Derek’s arm, “Oh, my God.... All right, here we go…”

“Stiles! Fallon!” Scott’s voice rings through the clinic.

“Scott?” Stiles looks hopeful, glancing away from the death tool in his hand.

When Scott runs in, the first thing he sees is Fallon practically pinning Derek down while Stiles holds a miniature saw to his arm. His lopsided jaw goes slack, “What the hell are you guys doing?”

Stiles turns the saw off, stepping away from it with a relieved smile. “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares,” he thanks his best friend.

Fallon steps away from Derek, every step she takes coming with a small ‘squelch’ sound. “Speak for yourself,” she grumbles.

The older man looks at Scott eagerly, “Did you get it?” He asks, searching for any sign of the bullet.

Scott reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bullet and handing it to Derek. “What are you gonna do with it?” The brunette girl asks, wiping her face off with a towel she found near one of the kennels.

Derek holds the bullet up, “I’m gonna–” he stumbles, his speech much weaker. “I’m gonna–” Out of nowhere, the cure Scott worked so hard to find falls out of his fingers. Derek collapses, hitting the ground roughly as Scott and Stiles try to go after the bullet.

Fallon drops to her knees, eyes going wide as she stares at Derek’s unconscious form. She cups the side of his face with her right hand, shaking his shoulder with the other. He doesn’t move. “Derek! Derek, come on, wake up!” She pleads. Scott and Stiles are babbling in the distance, but she can’t understand a word they’re saying as her entire focus is on the almost dead man below her. Her eyes scan his body and her breath hitches when she notices his chest isn’t rising. She puts her fingers to his neck trying to find any sign of a pulse. It’s there, but not very strong. The weakest pulse she’s felt. Fallon wracks her brain for any kind of medical information she’s learned from the hospital to wake him up.

Her eyes lighten up as she leans forward, opening his mouth to see if there is any blockage. She notices chunks of the black vomit he spat at her earlier blocking his airway. She sticks her pointer and middle finger in his mouth, swiping out the liquid. She then quickly turns him on his side before putting her hand into a fist and hitting him in the back as hard as she can. His eyes shoot open, blue flashing across them as he coughs more blood on Fallon. She cringes but keeps patting his back to make sure all of it leaves his system.

“I got it!” Scott screams. “I got it!”

Stiles looks at Fallon with shock on his face, “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“The hospital,” she utters out quickly, bringing Derek to his feet. “I’ve seen Melissa do it on a choking baby. Obviously with much less force, but same principle.”

“Give me–” Derek gasps in pain as he takes the bullet from Scott’s hand, biting off the tip to expose where the gunpowder is. He empties it into his hand before pushing it forcefully into the wound. He howls loudly as blue smoke starts floating up from the gunshot hole. His face turns red as he falls back to the floor, writhing around in pain. His back arches upwards as he tries to fight against screaming anymore than he already has. Fallon watches in awe as his wound begins to heal at a rapid pace, the black veins slowly disappearing until the injury is completely gone.

“That… was… Awesome!” Stiles exclaims with a clap of his hands. He pumps his fist in the air as if they just got off of an amusement park ride. “Yes!”

“I’m gonna hit you,” Fallon tells him blatantly. Stiles’ face falls, but he knows better than to continue testing her. She walks closer to Derek, sticking her hand out to help him off the floor. “Are you okay?” She asks genuinely.

Derek accepts her offer, using her to get himself up. “Well, except for the agonizing pain…” he says sarcastically.

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health,” Stiles comments, crossing his arms. Derek sends a death stare his way making Fallon rolls her eyes as she moves away from him and over to where Stiles is standing.

“Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that?” He instructs Derek. “And, if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything–” the threat is cut off by Derek who looks absolutely appalled by what he just said.

“You’re gonna trust them?!” He narrows his eyes. “You think they can help you?”

Scott shrugs his shoulders, “Well, why not?” He yells loudly. “They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are!”

Derek surges forward angrily, “I can show you exactly how nice they are.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sighs tiredly as she parks her motorcycle in front of her house. Her eyes are practically closing as she trudges through the front door. Stiles had taken her back to the School to get her bike after Derek took Scott to show him how “evil” the Argents are. She closes the front door, a small click echoing behind her.

“Where have you been?”

Fallon flinches as the light to the living room suddenly flicks on. Michael is sitting in his chair in the living room, a book in his lap with a reading lamp sitting beside him. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

“I asked you a question,” he says. “Where have you been? It’s two in the morning.” His voice is more than just concerned or worried. He’s disappointed.

Fallon places her helmet on the kitchen counter before turning back to her dad, “I was out with Scott and Stiles,” she answers.

“Doing what?” He continues questioning. “You all know there’s a police enforced curfew, right? None of you should be out this late, especially on a school night,” he crosses his arms as he walks over to his daughter. “You didn’t text, call, nothing. I had no idea where you were. Now, normally I don’t care because I know you’re responsible, and ninety percent of the time you’re with the boys. But with everything that’s going on, the murders, the dead bodies, you need to start being more communicative.”

“Dad, all we did was drive around,” she defends. “Stiles wanted to go get food and stuff after school, so we went and did that and just hung out around town.”

“Really?” He asks, disbelieving every word coming out of her mouth. “Just eating and driving around?”

“Yes,” she shrugs.

“Then why not shoot me a text?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s too hard, do you?”

“No,” she sighs, getting tired of this conversation already. “I’m sorry. Next time I plan on being out late, I’ll let you know what I’m doing.”

“Oh no,” Michael shakes his head. “There will be no next time. From now on, you will be home by the enforced curfew time. If the boys want to come over and stay the night, you know I have no problem with that. But you will not leave this house anytime after that, do you understand me?”

Fallon scoffs, “Dad, are you serious?” She says upsetly.

“Dead serious young lady,” he nods. “I don’t want to leave my shift at the hospital getting a call from Noah saying that they found my daughter's dead body somewhere in the woods. It’s dangerous out there, Fallon. I’m not going to allow you to engage in reckless behavior. I’m your father. It’s my job to keep you safe. You might hate me now, but it’s for the best,” he shuts his lamp off, setting his book back on their shared bookshelf in the living room. “You can complain about me all you want to the boys, but I’ve made up my mind,” he walks over towards the stairs before glancing back at his daughter. “Now go to bed. You still have school in the morning. You get to deal with the consequence of being tired.”

She watches after her father, shock written all over her face. She just saved a man’s life and pretty much got grounded at the same time. Michael is a very easy going parent. She got lucky in the dad department, and she knows that. Seeing and hearing him talk to her like that isn’t common. They usually don’t have issues to this extent. They have a mutual trust. But if he’s really that worried that he’s willing to confine her to the house, she’s going to have to listen to him.

Or get a lot more creative on how to sneak out.

[hedwig394]

I'm Not Yours

Derek Hale x Sarah McCall

Timeline: In S2E4, when Derek is training his betas, one of them tries to kiss him.

Derek's POV -

Isaac barrels towards me with a vicious look on his face. I stare at him, unfazed. Like that can scare me. He leaps at me but I push him out of the way effortlessly. Sure, the momentum makes it difficult, but not difficult enough.

Erica jumps at me from above and I toss her to the ground. She's no better. In fact, she's worse. Isaac at least has the mind to know that he isn't the best, but Erica is full of overconfidence. It's going to get her in trouble someday.

Boyd looks at from above, and cringes as both the betas fall to the ground. I know their bones are broken, they must be. Guilt creeps up my spine, but I shove it down. If I'm to teach them how to protect themselves, then they must sustain a few injuries.

"Does anyone wanna try not being completely predictable?" I ask with a frown.

It is then that Erica jumps at me. But she doesn't try to attack. Instead, she wraps her legs around my waist and presses her lips to mine. Eyes widening in shock, I push her away immediately.

"Don't ever do that again," I say, fury churning through my body. My eyes flash red and I see fear in hers, but I don't care.

I don't want to be kissed by anyone who isn't Sarah.

"Why?" She asks, scared, "Because I'm a Beta?"

"No." I say, "Because I'm Not Yours." I make sure to wipe my lips, just in case her lipstick has left a mark.

Isaac groans from beside her, uninterested in what just happened. "Are we done? I got about a hundred bones that need a few hours to heal."

I bend down in front of him and break his finger, "A hundred and one."

Isaac looks at me in shock and pain, and I hiss at him. "You think I'm teaching you to fight? Huh? Look at me! I'm teaching you how to survive! So if you don't wanna die, I suggest you take this seriously."

I stalk away from them and rush to my loft after putting my jacket on. I had promised to meet Sarah there, and I don't wanna be late. I don't want to miss even a single minute I have with her. Her brother thinks that it's just him who has to do a lot just to see his girlfriend, but he's wrong.

I have to do twice as much just to catch a glimpse of Sarah.

She waits at me at the loft, her long hair flowing behind her because of the wind.

"Angel..." I say. It's one of the few nicknames I have for her, another main one being 'honey'. She turns around and looks at me. Joy fills her eyes and she rushes towards me, throwing her arms around me. She doesn't care that I smell like tar and dirt, doesn't care that the dirt is all over my clothes and face.

I wrap my arms around her, breathing in the scent of her sweet-smelling hair. I kiss her cheek and all the emotions I've bottled down almost spill out. No, I can't let that happen. I have to stay strong for her.

She steps back and looks at me with tearful eyes. I pull her towards me and kiss her deeply, savouring the flavour and taste of her soft lips. She opens her mouth and I slip my tongue inside, exploring her mouth. She tastes like the sweet fruit at the end of countless hardships.

Sarah tastes like mine. There's not a lot I can call mine, but Sarah is mine. And I'll be damned to let anyone hurt her or take her away from me.

And the moan she gives makes me wanna carry her inside and show her just that.

But I have to keep the lust in control since I'd rather talk to her and hold her in my arms in those few stolen moments we have together than have sex with her.

I draw my head to let her catch her breath. I can go on for longer, werewolf lungs and all. But she's human. My human.

I caress her cheek gently and press a kiss to her forehead. "I've missed you, my Angel."

"I've missed you too, Sourwolf." She sniffs.

"Come on," I say, "Let's go inside."

She slips her hand in mine and we walk inside the loft. Sarah beams at the simple arrangement of the place and looks at me. "I've missed coming here."

"I know, I'm sorry," I say ruefully. The loft has not been the same without her. After we got together officially, Sarah used to hang out at the loft frequently. At one point, she was living with me. Those were the best days of my life. Just being with her, inside her and spending time in her presence gave me more happiness than anything else.

But then Gerard Argent showed up along with his pack of Hunters. I turned Isaac and Erica, and Sarah's brother started to hate me. I don't care, Scott's a child. He'll understand the ways of the world after growing up.

But unknowingly, that caused a rift between me and Sarah. It was too unsafe for her to be with me, with hunters prowling around and an unknown beast to add to the list. I know how low Gerard can sink, he can threaten and hurt Sarah just to get to me.

I once had a thought of breaking up with her for her own safety, but she had said to me "I'll carve your heart out with a scalpel and keep it as a prized possession if you ever do that." And that had led to a passionate make-out session.

"Derek..." Sarah's voice makes me look at her. But she isn't looking at me, she's staring at my jacket. "Why do you smell like women's perfume?"

Aah, that is Erica's fault. "Oh, it's nothing. I was going to tell you." I begin casually, but she looks anything but casual. Sarah's glaring at me like she never has before, and I gulp. "Angel, believe me, it's not what you think."

"Then what is it?" She hisses viciously, and at that moment, I can't help but admire how strong and confident she looks.

Right, back to the point.

I explain everything to her, starting from training to the point where Erica kissed me, and at the end, Sarah looks like she could commit first-degree murder. "I pushed her away immediately," I say, desperation clawing at my insides. Will she believe me?

Sarah glares at me. Then, she looks at her feet with a sigh. "Do you like her, Derek?"

"No!" I exclaim, aghast. "Honey, she's my beta, and she's also underage. I don't like her. I don't like anyone but you."

She doesn't look at me. "It's fine, Derek. If you don't like me anymore. I get it. It's been a hard couple of months. And I understand if you wanna be with me. Maybe a werewolf will be better for you."

"Sarah," I ball my hand into a fist. "Look at me."

She doesn't budge, and I gently lift her chin up. Her warm, chocolate eyes meet my werewolf red. She looks a bit frightened, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her hard against me.

"Look at me, Angel." I growl, "You're the only one I like, the only one I want. So don't even think for a second that I'll look at anyone else the way I look at you."

"I'm sorry," She says and my eyes go back to the usual green. "It's been so hard recently, so I thought that you'd give up and...." She looks at me worriedly, "Start looking for someone else."

"Sarah," I say calmly, "It's been very hard, yes. But I'm not giving up on you. On us. It's you for me, Angel."

Sarah gives me a shaky smile, and I continue, "And as for Erica, I pushed her away immediately and warned her to not do that again. You know why?"

She looks at me expectantly and I kiss her softly. "Because I'm not hers, Angel. I'm yours."

Masterlist

[cmncisspnandmore]

Masterlist

Last Updated: 5/28/2024

Fair warning to anyone who reads some of the series on here, a lot of them are unfinished, I started writing them years ago. I may go back and finish some of them, i may not. If there is a series you find that you enjoy that is unfinished let me know!

ALL FICS ARE FEMALE READER UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED. (I am more than happy to write all other kinds of readers, I fully support LGBTQIA+on this blog.)

One Shots

Spencer Reid: Stir Crazy Alone Late Nights Bothered Dr. Reid? What Should I Reid? Bookworms (Male!Reader) You're Dating Who?! Home Silent Moments Turned Tables

David Rossi: Homework Pile Up (Daughter!Reader)

Aaron Hotchner: Ruined (Platonic!Reader) Soothing Voices

Series

Spencer Reid: Mistakes Were Made; 1,2,3,4 Boy Wonder and Family Prequel; 1,2 Boy wonder and Family; 1,2,3, Don't Let Me Go; 1,2,3,4,5

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Dean Winchester: Baby Mine

Sam Winchester: Living Blood Bank S'pise

Sam and Dean Winchester: Without you

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Simon "Ghost" Riley Don't Own Me Bittersweet Troublesome Feelings

Keegan P Russ Brothers Best Friend

Series

Poly!Task Force 141 All Hands On Deck, 2, 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley One Night Stand: 1 ,2,3,4 5,6,7,8

Captain John Price Coming Home To You: 1,2,3

Blurbs

Simon "Ghost" Riley Faking his own death Money Teenage Daughter Simon hates seeing you cry, "Yeah i think you're hot," Not Coming Home

John "Soap" MacTavish Hopeless Flirt Coming home from a long mission Sundresses and Sorrow

Simon Riley X John Mactavish X Reader Dad!Simon and Dad!Johnny, missing gear.

Captain John Price Tarmac and Tears

Requests

Simon "Ghost" Riley Body Image Freckles Control

Headcannons

Oneshots

Stiles Stilinski Study Breaks

Series

Blurbs

Headcannons

[inky-writing]

INKY MASTERLIST

Hello Inkers! Welcome to my page!

Here some "rules" and things to know:

MDNI: if you are under 18, just leave, I will probably write sm*t at some point, so it's not for you

If your age doesn't appear on your page, you will be blocked

If you have a request about a particular character that is not listed, send a request, but note that I will have to do some research first to make it accurate

The requests are treated in order, no need to be impolite because it doesn't go as fast as you want, I'm still human and have a life

Any insult or unwanted message, and you will be blocked.

You can also find me on wattpad under @ inky-writing

Thank you!

ACOTAR

Fourth Wing

Twilight

Hunger Games

Harry Potter

Teen Wolf

Top Gun

Lord of The Rings

Vampire Diaries

Original Stories

[rogerswifesblog]

Christmas bingo!

Hi, I’ve decided to create s little bingo for y’all!😌 it wasn’t planned and @jamneuromain helped me with some ideas for it but I hope you’ll like it! I hope it’ll get my blog to be a bit more ‘alive’ again after my ‘break’:)

Okay, how does it work;

You send me an ask/or reblog this with the chosen topics and characters you’d like me to write for. And if it’s smut/angst/fluff. ❤️ (I’d also appreciate a summary or idea of what you’d like to read in the one shot / Drabble! ❤️I can also create some moodboards if you want:))

And that’s it! :)

Characters I write for:

🎄CE characters

🎄SS characters

🎄 any pairing between CE x SS characters (for example simply Steve x Bucky or if you want to be adventurous Andy x TJ!😇)

🎄 Teen Wolf characters: Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey

🎄Harry Potter: George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

🎄 You can always text me and ask if I’m comfortable writing for a different character:)

Taglist: @rogersbarber @inlovewithchrisevans

[here-to-read-and-write]

Eli in the past.

So I had to make this, because let's be honest the movie was...I can't find the words to describe it. The only good thing about it, is Eli.

"So you are telling us…That you are the son of Derek" Stile asked unsure of what reaction he should give, he was happy for his sour wolf Did he just call me him his ? and as much as he wanted to deny the pit in his stomach but he couldn't.

It may sound selfish and heartless, but Stiles wished this was all a nightmare or that the boy was maybe one of Derek's one-night stands, or that the mother died while giving birth. Unfortunately, this was all a wish from a broken heart.

"Who is your mother?" Lydia asked when she notice how silent Stiles become, and before Eli could respond the door opened.

"Dad!" Eli happily called seeing Derek at the door, "MOM!" That earned everyone's attention.

Eli throw himself at (Y/N) and Derek who just stared at each other completely clueless about what was happening.

If Stiles was feeling awful, he just wished for one of his crushes to die.

"What is going on?" Derek questioned without letting go of the child in his arms.

(Y/N) walked to Stiles putting a comforting hand on his should as she noticed his dejected expression.

When did she get here? He thought.

"You're okay?" She asked her tone soft. Like always when she talked to him.

Okay, now he felt much worse. He stood up abruptly leaving the place before any could stop him.

"Is he okay?" (Y/N) asked, and no one responded. Not even Scott. Who knew about Stiles feeling for you two.

"I will go talk to him" Scott left giving everyone an apologetic smile.

"So…Can someone explain what a kid doing in my loft, and why is he calling me dad?" Derek raised an eyebrow completely ignoring the kid that left him to hug (Y/N), and the oblivious blush on his cheek.

"Kid, I'm sorry to say this but I'm not your mother. I'm tto young to give birth." (Y/N) explain to the kid tryingto get him off her.

"Not yet, but soon" He pointed out, smiling shiply.

"So what's your name and why are you here?" (Y/N) shacked her head putting the groceries away with Derek. She decided to take things slowly and maybe understand the boy.

"I'm Eli (last name) Mieczyslaw Hale" He happily introduced himself arms spread wide, and from your chock you let the plate shatter on the ground.

"I don't believe you!" You whispered.

Eli turns your way, lifting his shirt to show a half-moon shape on the middle of his chest.

"Impossible!" You slowly walked toward him, before hesitantly tracing the mark.

"It looks just likes yours, doesn't it?" Eli asked smiling at you. You nodded silently. You didn't know what to say or if you were even capable.

"You are my child" You hugged him, tears falling down your cheeks, with the biggest smile on your face.

The half-moon shape, that looked like a burn was a symbol of your home, you pack. Unfortunately, an accident happened and they all die. You felt it as if your heart was burning more with their soul slowly leaving each one of them.

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

"So you're telling me…I married two men?" (Y/N) raised an eyebrow, passing a bowl of fruit to the boy, who happily took it grinning.

Everyone had left except you and Stiles, with a promise of giving them details later, since they had school tomorrow morning. Eli had insisted that Stiles stays, and either way, he was your ride home.

"What's with the grin?" You ask, with a smile of your own, you were still not yet over the fact that you had such a beautiful kid.

"You always prepare, a bowl of fruits with some yoghurt for me and the twins. for our movie night. Each Friday." He looked down at the bowl sniffing.

"Used?" You asked worriedly about what have happened in the future.

"You fallen into coma after your saved dad from sacrificing himself" Eli wiped his tears, before giving a smile. He was obliviously trying to hide his fellings, and even if he wasn't your child yet, you hugged him burying his face in your chest.

Your motherly warmth caused all of his hidden emotions to explode. He couldn't help himself from crying, letting everything out. All the fear and all the frustration he buried for months inside of him.

You let him, until he calmed down enough to eat his fruit, and explain. With both of the men just watching you act like mother.

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

"You married dad " He pointed at Derek, who was leaning against the wall, watching from a distance while the boy was still laying on your chest "You got married when you were fourth month pregnant, at that time you were already married to papa Stiles" This seems to catch all your attention, especially Stiles.

"Papa Stiles?" You titled your head.

"Yes,from I was told you had a big fight broke between you and Dad. He said some hurtful things, so you left with papa Stiles to study aboard" He hatefully glared at his dad, before turning to you with the biggest smiles "two months later you discovered you were pregnant..Papa Stiles took the opportunaty to marry you and protect you" He left your arms to go to stiles, who hugged him back with a big smile.

I married (Y/N). Stiles is over the moon biting his lips tp stop a giggle from escaping, at the thought of you two living together, with you wearing a ring, proof that you belong to him, just as how belongs to you.

Stiles didn't look much older than Eli. They looked more like brothers than a father and a son, yet your son seem to look at him with such admiration, causing Derek to clench his teeth, eyes turning slightly yellow.

"and one night he called Dad and told him about everything. He thought he deserved to know that you never cheated on him…You may guess what happened. Dad come and demanded a DNA test, and just like you expected I was his child, and you never cheated" He took some paper out of his jacket passing it to you.

The paper had your full name, with Derek's too.

"He tried to apologize but you refuse to even see his face, but papa Stiles convinced you…Few dates from here and there and you were back together just this time with Papa Stiles, by your side." Stiles was looking at Eli with so much love it warm your heart, yet broke you, you didn't want for Stiles to feel obligated to marry you just because of you been pregnant.

You wish it was his-the child-, because to be honest you always liked Stiles, yet you never dared to express those feelings, knowing well that he liked Lydia.

"What about the twins?" You questioned.

"They are my half-brother and sister, you had them from Papa Stiles" Your head snaps to Stiles, whose jaw dropped. You turned to Derek, and he give the same reaction. Not like it changed, since Eli explained that he was his son.

Oh my God, I have twins. Stiles thought.

"That doesn't explain why you're here?" You asked, and sudenly the boy got nervous.

"After you got on a coma our family start falling apart… Espacially after grandma came back." The boy buried himself in Stiles' chest.

"My mom?" Your voice cracked and your heart skipped a beat, earning you a look of worry from both men.

"She tried to make Dads divorce you, when they showed her that she already had children with both of them, she just laughed and asked them to keep us" Your grip harden around Stiles, making him pat him softly.

"I-I…I didn't know what to do, she already had everything ready, a lawyer, evidence to show that you were forced to marry them" You frowned, before softly standing.

"That's why you came here" You concluded, before wrapping your hands around him. The three of you hugged him, giving him a little comfort.

"I was in your room looking for something against her, when sudenly I was teleported here" You closed your eyes, searching in your mind before it hit you.

"Wait here!" You run to Derek's room,and few minutes later you came back with two books in hand.

"I think you were looking for those" you handed them to Eli, who opened one of them to see writings.

"What are those?" Eli asked, "Those are my journal, from when I used to live with my mom…I think it's more than enough evidance to use" Eli's eyes lit up.

"I hide them, in Derek's room since no one will think or dare to look for them there" You awkwardly laughed, looking away from Derek, who himself didn't know that something precious was hiding in his room.

"When did you put them there?" He found himself asking.

"After two weeks after we started dating" You explained going back to you previous position, stealing your son from Stiles.

You started dating Derek, giving him a chance, when you caught Stiles and Lydia kissing.

"Oh" He simply replaied.

"It's getting late, why don't we leave. We still have school tomorow" You yawned, eyes already closing.

"Can…C-Can we all sleep together?" Eli yawned too, refusing to let you go.

You three looked at each other and shrugged, but deep inside you all were excited to sleep together.

And God knows how fast you all had fallen asleep that night. All warm, with one wish, is for this moment to never end or at least last longer, so you can all graved in your heart and mind.

[soulofapatrick]

Loves Antidote - Derek Hale x Reader

Summary: You were affected more than the others in the crypt during the events of ‘Weaponised’

Words: 1.2k 

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

I can hear Scott moving after Kira tells him what Stiles’ muffled voice yells. He’s reaching for the jar and moments later there’s a crash, I’m gasping for air, feeling like I can breathe finally. My vision is returning and my muscles are finally reacting to me but it’s slower than the others who are already up and on their feet, Malia by my side as she has to pull me to my feet while Scott gets the door open. 

I’m clinging to her, my legs struggling to move and Stiles is suddenly on my other side, the pair of them helping me regain the strength to stumble forwards with my weight being held by them. They’re leading me down the empty hallways of the high school, towards the exit where I can hear myriads of people talking, yelling and preparing for our exit. I know dad’s gonna be out there, Stiles knows he is too, as he’s the sheriff but I’m resisting as I don’t want him to see me like this. He has enough on his plate. 

“Y/N, please, you need help.” Stiles is urging, voice filled with concern. His grip around my ribs tightening, determination shining through his wide and worried eyes as I lull my head in his direction. I can hear Scott and Kira trying to find the others, checking on teachers and students alike while Stiles and Malia want to get me to Melissa who I can hear bustling about outside. I can hear dad too and there’s another voice. It sends my heart pounding and Malia is sending me a concerned look as she can hear how fast my heart is beating. 

I try to push the pain aside and focus on that voice, knowing he’s just outside. I want to get to him before I even think about Melissa and getting help. I need him. Together, the three of us stagger through the double doors, the taste of freedom so sweet and the sun temporarily blinds me but I can smell him. Three voices call my name: Dad, Melissa and him. The strange mixture of musk, something slightly spicy like oranges and vanilla fills my senses as my eyes try to adjust to the blinding brightness. My knees are giving in and I’m falling until the pair get a better grip on me. 

The sound of pounding feet feel like gunshots in my head but the scent of him coming closer and closer spurs me on, giving me the strength to push Stiles and Malia away. My already aching body collides with solid and strong arms are wrapping around me, the smell of him is almost overwhelming it’s so intoxicating. The cool and smooth leather of his jacket against my skin is a stark contrast to the feverish heat pulsating through my body. 

“Derek.” My voice cracks and sounds raw even to my own ears, Derek’s arms tightening protectively around me. The emotions radiating from him prickle my eyes and before I know it I’m burying my face in his shirt, trying to staunch the onslaught of tears. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay sweetheart,” Derek’s voice soothes, a gentle balm to my shattered nerves, his words washing over me like a healing salve. His arms providing a haven of safety and comfort as I cling to him like a lifeline, seeking solace in his unwavering presence. His lips pressing against my temple calms me even more, a tender kiss that ignites a flicker of hope within me. I can feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his breath against my skin, and it’s as if the world narrows down to this single point of connection. 

As his hand moves in slow, gentle strokes, shooting down my hair, a sense of tranquility washes over me. It’s as if he’s leaving a sense of calm back into the frayed edges of my being, the tremors in my legs begin to subside and the fog surrounding my mind begins to dissipate. The ache and pain is still there and I still feel weak, like I’m going to collapse if Derek lets me go but I know he won’t, especially when the hand that was on my hair moves to cup my jaw, pad of his thumb gliding across my cheekbone gently, a surge of warmth and reassurance following it. 

I’m pushing myself away enough to meet those kaleidoscope eyes, seeing the depth of his concern and care reflected in them. It’s a silent understanding that passes between us, a recognition of the need for me to heal and the inability for my body to do it. And as his thumb continues its soothing motion, I feel that spark of hope ignited within me grow into a flame or two. 

Then, as if guided by an unspoken agreement, Derek is drawing me up into a kiss - a gentle and tender meeting of our lips. It’s a moment that transcends words, the kiss a conduit for my healing and I feel it. With each press of our lips, I can feel the ache slowly fading and my legs stand steadier, the weariness that had taken over my body replaced by something else. It’s sweet on my tongue as Derek’s arm around my waist pulls me closer and the one of my cheek tilts my head to deepen the kiss more. 

Our breaths mingle, a symphony of shared exhales that carry the weight of something new and something good. It’s in the event meeting of our mouths that I find solace, a sanctuary where healing takes root and blooms. The sensation of his lips moving against mine is electrifying and breathtaking all at once. 

Someone is clearing their throat, startling me and pulling me away from Derek, my eyes flickering open to find Dad standing there, a mixture of sternness and amusement playing across his features. While his words carry a reprimand, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that betrays his true feelings. The corners of my lips curling into a sheepish smile, and Derek’s arm remains securely around my waist.

“Okay, okay, I think that’s enough,” Dad asserts, his voice firm but indeed with an undertone of lightheartedness, “Those healing vein things have gone, none of that in front of me thank you.” 

I can’t help but let out a small chuckle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affection for Dad’s protectiveness. With a gentle squeeze of Derek’s hand, I start to disentangle myself from his embrace, though the warmth of his touch still lingers on my skin. Derek lets out a growl deep in his throat when Stiles moves towards me, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red as he clears his throat and squeaks out an embarrassed, “Sorry.” 

“Derek,” Dad turns his attention to the very embarrassed werewolf, “I want you to take her home and make sure she is okay. You do not leave her side until either Jordan or I come home, I want nothing like this to happen again.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Good lad.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Teen Wolf Masterlist

TAGS: Tag List Form

@bellabadacadabra

[arcane-vagabond]

Foul is Fair Masterlist

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Summary: Beacon Hills University has a reputation for being a stepping stone for the elite. Generations of families have walked the halls of the institution, going on to have successful careers upon graduation. Only in the last few decades has the school begun to allow omegas earn their degrees from these hallowed halls, and you consider yourself to be among the few lucky ones. You’re determined to prove that you’re more than your designation, but when the cocky alpha in your English class decides to put you in your place, will you fold? Or will you rise to the challenge?

Series Content Warnings: Omegaverse (heats, knotting, ruts, scenting, claiming, omega nip, caste system, mating bonds, nesting, suppressants, etc.), Non-canon compliant, alcohol, drugs, wealth gap, age gap (like a year or two, nothing major), angst, fluff, eventual smut, semi-dark fic. Individual chapters will have their own warnings.

All posts related to this series will be tagged as "FIF," "Foul is Fair," and "College!Derek."

*Denotes Smut.

Masterlist || Derek Hale Masterlist

Series;

Prologue (Coming Soon)

Drabbles;

Nothing to see here yet...

[ellswritings]

Formality 1x11

Episode 12

“Call it again,” Scott orders his friends as he jumps up from the floor. The boy somehow managed to lose his phone within the last twenty four hours from when they were together. He’s checked under his bed about a thousand times, making Stiles and Fallon roll their eyes. If he didn’t find it the first time, he’s not gonna find it now. They tried to help him look for the first hour and a half, but eventually gave up.

Fallon presses the call button on her phone, a loud ringing echoing throughout the room. Unfortunately, that’s the only sound reverberating in the small space. Scott’s ringtone is not heard by any of them. There wasn’t even the loud vibrating noise it usually makes.

Fallon readjusts the white turtleneck she’s wearing, the fabric feeling slightly suffocating. The brunette is going to be stuck wearing this style of shirt for a while. At least until Derek’s handprint fades from her neck. He left bruises scattered across it, which would definitely raise a few eyebrows if anyone she loves saw it. She really didn’t want to answer any questions, or to see the pity in Scott and Stiles’ eyes when she told them. Fallon herself didn’t even want to talk about it. Reliving it just makes her want to punch Derek more. The fact he didn’t even try to apologize also infuriates her to no end.

“It’s not here, Scotty,” Fallon sighs, her voice sounding almost tight. Like Derek managed to dent her vocal chords or something.

“You know, so what, you lost your phone,” Stiles tries to say positively. “Why don’t you just get a new one?”

“I can’t afford a new one,” Scott groans frustratedly, still fervently searching his bedroom. “And I can’t do this alone. We have to find Derek.” He glances at Fallon with a hopeful look, “Have you been able to get ahold of him?” He asks, walking closer to the two.

Fallon shrugs, “I texted him.”

“That’s it?” Stiles scoffs. “You texted him? Seriously?” He narrows his eyes at her. “I thought you would’ve been over the moon that you were given the job of reaching out to him. And all you do is text him?”

“Yes, Stiles,” Fallon responds, annoyed. “All I did was text him. He’s probably not gonna answer me anyway. You’d have better luck getting Peter to call him if you want a response.” She looks back at Scott, “Plus, didn’t you say he walked into gunfire?” Scott nods. “Probably not in the position to be answering text messages then,” she says.

Scott shakes his head, “Argent's plan was to use him to get to the Alpha. They wouldn’t risk killing him.”

“All right, so then, just let them do what they're planning, you know? They use Derek to find Peter, problem solved.” Stiles says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek!” Scott exclaims frustratedly. “I can’t protect her on my own which means we either find Derek first–” he stops, stammering as he tries not to picture what will happen if they don’t find Derek. “Just-just help me!” He shouts, going through the minimal miscellaneous items he has on his dresser. He tosses a toy basketball backwards, knocking Fallon in the head.

She glares at him, fighting the urge to chuck the ball back at his head. “You know, you probably lost it when you two were fighting,” Fallon brings up passive aggressively. Most of it towards Derek. “Remember? When he was trying to kill you for trying to save Jackson from also being killed by him. Anyone else noticing his pattern of violent behavior? Or just me?”

“Since when do you say anything negative about Derek?” Stiles furrows his eyebrows.

Scott groans loudly, “He wasn’t actually going to kill anyone,” he defends. “And I’m not letting him die.”

Fallon believes that Derek is still buried in his mind, just under the control of Peter. She knows even despite his cold hard exterior, he wouldn’t actually let Peter hurt someone innocent if he could help it. She doesn’t necessarily want him to die either, but maybe a couple hours of torture would serve him right after crawling through her window just to assault her.

Stiles huffs exasperatedly, “Could you at least think about letting him die?” He requests with a pout. “For me?”

Fallon tosses the basketball up in the air and sighs, “No, Stiles… Unfortunately that isn’t considered ‘morally correct.’ We have to save him.”

“This whole hot and cold thing towards him is making me very confused,” Stiles tells her.

Scott continues to rummage through his things as his other two friends just sit in their own separate chairs, arms crossed. Scott wants to save Derek, Stiles doesn’t, and Fallon is somewhere in the morally gray area. Normally, she would side with Scott, but today apparently isn’t the day.

Suddenly Scott’s head cocks to the side, his face visibly falling. Stiles and Fallon notice this, figuring he must be hearing something from outside. “What’s wrong?” Fallon asks him tentatively.

“My mom just got home from work,” he tells them dejectedly.

“Is she okay?” Stiles asks worriedly, sitting up straighter. Scott shakes his head. “What’s she doing?”

The werewolf slowly moves away from his desk, looking down at the ground sadly. “Crying,” he mumbles.

There’s a moment of silence shared between the three of them. None of them like to hear when Melissa is upset. Fallon stands up, walking over to put her hand on Scott’s back. “It’s not your fault, Scott,” she whispers.

The boy moves away from her touch as he goes to sit down on his bed. His frantic mood from mere seconds ago has completely vanished. Stiles sighs, trying to find the right words to comfort his friend. “Scott, you can’t protect everyone.”

Scott barely looks up at the two of them, “I have to.” He insists.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon walks into the school after her free period. She’s been spending most of her day with Allison, still paranoid about Derek’s warning/threat. She has lacrosse practice this afternoon with the boys and then afterwards she’s going shopping with Lydia and Allison. In her hand are two Starbucks cups, one of them containing Allison’s favorite beverage. She grunts when her phone buzzes and she pulls out the device.

It’s a message from Stiles, You’re gonna be in seventh period right?

Yeah. What’s up? She replies, setting the drinks down in her locker as sixth period hasn’t ended just yet.

I may or may not have forgotten to do the homework…

Fallon can’t help but smile even though she rolls her eyes. Gimme a sec. I’ll send them to you.

I literally love you more than life itself. Stiles texts overdramatically. Btw have you managed to get a hold of Derek? Scott’s asking.

I haven’t talked to Derek at all, no. Do you want me to try calling him again? She asks, hoping he tells her not to worry about it.

If you could, yeah.

She bites the inside of her cheek. Of course he wants her to. She fights off the urge to rip out her eyes and reluctantly plugs in Derek’s phone number. It rings as expected and goes directly to voicemail. Sometimes she thinks the number he gave her is fake. She’s skeptical that he even has a phone in the first place. His voicemail is also not set up, so after the female automated voice is done telling her to leave a message, she does just that.

“Hey, Derek. It’s me. Again. I know you’ve probably got your whole ‘brooding lone wolf’ thing going on right now, but maybe you could break that habit and actually pick up your phone for once. Just a thought.” She comments sarcastically, grabbing the homework for her next class that she can send to Stiles.

“Anyway, Scott, Stiles, and I have been trying to reach you because, surprise, Peter is getting even more psychotic than usual. Scott’s worried Peter’s going to come after Allison to find you, and, you know, we’re all kind of invested in keeping people alive. So, if you could let us know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere, that’d be great.”

There’s a pause, and Fallon sighs, frustration creeping into her tone.

“Also, in case you forgot after your whole threat debacle thing the other night, Peter wants me to get close to the Argents. So, yeah, I’m working on that. I’m trying to cozy up to the family of hunters that, oh right, could kill us all at any moment. Just thought you should know since you’re the one who got me into this mess in the first place.”

Her voice softens a bit, though the passive-aggression remains. “Look, Derek… I get it. You’ve got your reasons for working with Peter. And I’m not thrilled about it, as you can probably tell. But… if you’re in over your head or if something’s wrong, you can’t just shut us out. I’m still trying to figure out why I even care, but—" Another pause. “Just… be careful, okay? Wherever you are. Call me back, please. I—”

She cuts herself off, frustrated with herself for caring so much. “Just… let me know you’re alive.”

The voicemail ends with a soft click.

She closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath as she tries to shake off the emotions swirling inside of her. She readjusts her purple turtleneck, the bruises still pretty prominent. She doesn’t know how she’s going to hide them at lacrosse practice.

That’s when the bell finally rings and the brunette grabs the notebook she needs and her two coffees before bed-lining it towards Allison’s locker. By the time she gets there, Allison is just putting in her combination. Fallon smoothly slides up next to her, leaning on the locker door next to Allison’s holding up the drinks with a wide smile.

“I come bearing gifts.”

Allison turns to look at her and her eyes light up at the sight of caffeine. “You got me a coffee?” She asks brightly, not expecting the touching gesture.

“Of course I did,” Fallon grins, handing her the cup with her designated drink. “You’re my best girl friend. And I figured you could use a little bit of pick me up before dress shopping later with Lydia,” she giggles. “I don’t know how she does it, but she can genuinely walk through Macy’s for a solid six hours without breaking a sweat.”

Allison gratefully takes the drink, using her free arm to pull Fallon in for a hug. “You’re the best, seriously. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” She takes a sip of her coffee, “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping, so…”

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, a concerned look taking over her face. “How come?”

Her lips form in a tight line but she just shakes her head. “Just a lot going on. I’m fine though, really.” She nods, but Fallon doesn’t believe a word that just came out of her mouth.

Fallon wants to push for more information, but doesn’t want to come across as overbearing. She feels a couple of eyes on her and briefly glances down the hallway. She sees Scott and Stiles peeking their heads around the corner, checking to make sure that Fallon is still glued to Allison’s side. Her two best friends think that she’s staying with Allison so Peter doesn’t try to take her, but she has her own reasons as well. She hasn’t told them about Derek or Peter’s threat, but she’s been trying to protect Allison while simultaneously getting dirt on her family.

Fallon sips her own latte before looking up at Allison, “So, are you going to the formal?” She asks curiously.

“I want to,” She admits. “Jackson asked me to go as friends the other day, but we haven’t really finished talking about it. And I know Lydia wants to go with some jock, but I don’t really wanna be a third wheel.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Fallon agrees. “I definitely don’t blame you.”

“Has anyone asked you?” Allison glances at her, turning from her locker for a moment.

Fallon nods slowly while rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah, actually… Scott did.” Allison’s eyes shoot as wide as saucers which makes Fallon break out into a fit of laughter. She wanted to keep the charade up for a couple seconds longer, but her face was too priceless to hold back from. “I’m kidding. But someone did ask me. He’s actually the guy I sit next to in my creative writing class,” she admits shyly.

Allison shoots her a hopeful smile, “Be my date instead?” She asks with her gorgeous doe eyes.

Fallon huffs, feeling torn between saying yes to her gorgeous friend or to the cute guy in her writing class. She hasn’t gone out on a date pretty much ever. So the appeal of going with the guy who asked her is very strong. But she could never leave Allison hanging.

“Of course I’ll be your date,” Fallon grins. “Now we just gotta match our dress colors later today and it’ll be perfect.”

“Yes!” Allison claps. “Okay, this is going to be so much fun.”

Fallon’s eyes travel down the hallway once more, falling on her spastic best friend. “I know you said Lydia already decided to go with one of the guys on the lacrosse team, but… do you think we could convince her to ditch him for Stiles?” She asks with a small smirk. She watches as Scott leans over to whisper what Fallon had just done and Stiles begins to rapidly shake his head.

“Oh my gosh, wait, that would be perfect,” Allison smiles. “He would treat her so much better than the loser that asked her.” Allison goes to shut her locker so they can walk to their final class together, but Jackson sliding up to the empty space where her locker door was prevents them from going anywhere.

His eyes are wild and a bead of sweat drips down his forehead. He looks terrified and once Fallon sees Scott snickering from afar, she knows it was his doing. “Hey,” he greets anxiously. “What time should I pick you up for the dance tomorrow?”

Allison tilts her head curiously, but nonetheless smiles, “Are you okay?”

Jackson nods, despite his body trembling where he stands. He readjusts his backpack strap, feeling the need to fidget. “Yeah, I-I'm great! I'm just excited to go to the formal. With you. As friends. Just friends. Just-just friends.”

Allison nods in agreement which forces Jackson to walk away, mumbling something under his breath as he goes. She should’ve figured this would’ve been something Scott would do. He’s not allowed to be there, so the next best option of protection would be Jackson.

“Well, that solves the whole date debacle,” Fallon loops her arm through Allison’s.

“I’ll tell him no if you still want to go together,” Allison says seriously. “You come first.”

Fallon waves her off, “No, don’t worry about me. I want you to have fun, and if you want to go with Jackson, you should.”

“Then you should at least say yes to the guy in your class,” Allison persists. “That way you, me, and Lydia can all have dates.”

“You know what?” Fallon smiles giddily. “I think I will. I have his number so I could call him.”

“Do it!” Allison encourages with a nod. “Class can wait. This takes priority,” she bumps her side playfully.

“Okay, okay, I’m doing it.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles stands at the Macy’s perfume counter which is near all the dress racks, smelling each and every bottle on display. Fallon watches with an amused look, shaking her head as he sneezes because of one of the particularly strong scents. He insisted on smelling the cheap, off-brand section before moving over to the more expensive ones. She told him not to even bother with the cheap stuff as Lydia would never wear it, but he was very persistent.

Fallon grabs Stiles wrist as he goes to spray one of the bottles in the air to smell it. She hands him one of the small papers designated for said purpose and he makes an ‘o’ shape with his mouth. He nods, spraying the bottle before sniffing it and cringing. He hacks loudly, “Okay, absolutely not. I’d kill you and then myself if you ever wore something like that.” He shakes his head. “I promise I’ll find you the perfect perfume for tomorrow,” he swears. “And for Lydia.” He picks up a strawberry shaped bottle. “Do you think she’ll like this one? It matches her hair.”

“Sti, I already told you,” Fallon giggles. “She’s not gonna like these ones. The better smelling ones are on the other side.”

“Okay, but I’m still not done with these,” he points to the wide array of colored bottles. “If you want me to get done quicker, maybe you should help a friend out and start sniffing for me,” he instructs, pointing to the other side.

Fallon huffs but doesn’t bother hiding the smile on her face as she goes to smell the more expensive perfumes. The girl bops her head along to the pop music playing throughout the retail store. She moves down the line of bottles, taking note of the ones she knows Lydia would like. Her and Allison have yet to get there. Fallon and Stiles wanted to get there a little bit early so she could help him pick out a suit and he could help her a bit with the dresses. She didn’t want to be completely clueless when Lydia and Allison got here. Unfortunately, Stiles was practically useless as every dress he pulled out for her was far too short and risqué for a school dance. He practically begged her to put on a green dress that barely went over her thighs and was completely backless.

Finally after what felt like forever, she found a small purple glass bottle. She sprayed a small bit of it and immediately fell in love with the scent. It smells like something a royal would wear. Lydia would love it. She holds it up, “What about this one?” She suggests. Stiles leans forward and smells it. He immediately nods his head in approval, sending her a thumbs up.

Right at that moment, the ladies of the hour come up the escalator. Fallon smiles as she runs over to Lydia and Allison, pulling them both on for a hug. Lydia looks slightly less thrilled than Allison, no doubt because the latter just revealed she would have to go to the dance with Stiles. She might be disappointed now, but Fallon knows Lydia will have the best time with him. Stiles is a great guy.

Soon enough, Lydia drags Stiles off towards the dress racks, immediately using him as her own personal hanger as she selects multitudes of different dresses. Fallon and Allison go off with each other, giggling as they jokingly hold up the most posh looking dresses to their bodies.

Lydia definitely has the most dresses chosen out of the three of them. Fallon has two draped over her arm and even then she’s not completely sold on either of them. She had some ideas of what she wanted, but so far she’s just grabbing what she thinks looks good. Her eyes are drawn to a light pink floor length gown, sparkles embroidered all around it with a slit on the side. She grabs it off the rack, a content feeling filling her chest. This is definitely the one.

She turns on her heel to show it to Allison, but the girl isn’t there. She must’ve gone off to find her own dress. Fallon moves through the racks and different people, trying to find her friend. She keeps her eye out for a head of luscious brown hair, but ends up being met with the icy blue stare of the exact person she didn’t want to see. Peter.

And he’s talking to Allison.

Fury and fear burns in Fallon’s gut as she marches over to where they’re standing. Allison is standing in front of a mirror, holding a dress in her hand as Peter’s predatory gaze beats down on her. When she stops, she pretty much puts herself in between Allison and the Alpha. A fake smile is plastered across her lips as she looks at her friend, “Everything okay here?”

Allison nods, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Um, yeah. He was just helping me out finding colors that match my skin tone.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he was,” Fallon says rather aggressively, her eyes never leaving Peter’s.

The man simply smirks, sensing her uneasiness. But it does please him to see Fallon taking his threat seriously. “This is nice. Shopping for dresses with friends is always a good time. Let me guess, high school dance?” He quirks a brow, trying to act as if he’s some normal person making conversation.

“Formal,” Allison answers, still trying to be kind despite being uncomfortable.

Fallon grabs Allison’s hand, turning more defensive as Peter doesn’t seem to be grasping the hint. She’s here to protect Allison for Scott. That’s her priority right now. Peter can clearly see her trying to grow closer to the family, so he needs to take his leave. “Listen, I think we can handle this from here. I’m sure you have better things to do than question two teenage girls about dresses.”

Before he can retaliate with a response, a female voice echoes over the intercom, stopping the song that was playing throughout the store. “Attention shoppers... To the owner of a blue Mazda, license plate–”

Allison tenses as she looks at Fallon, “Did she just say a blue Mazda?”

Fallon ignores the announcement completely, keeping her eyes on Peter the entire time. He seems to revel in the attention, only smirking whenever he decides to meet her fiery gaze. She feels like a double agent. Fighting against Peter while also helping him get to the Argents. But as of right now, her only concern is making sure he doesn’t touch a hair on Allison’s head.

“–5768. Your car is being towed.”

“That’s my car!” Allison realizes before taking off towards the escalator to try and save her vehicle.

That leaves Fallon alone with Peter. Every part of her body is screaming at her to turn the other way, to simply walk in the other direction, or call out for Stiles. Just so that she’s not alone with him, but something about his eyes holds her in place and keeps her mouth shut. A fake smile etches its way onto his lips. He reaches forward, lightly caressing the dress on her arm. “While I do believe this will look absolutely exemplary on you… don’t you think there are more pressing matters to attend to than dress shopping?” He enunciates the last two words, running his slimy hand over the glittery fabric.

“You told me to get close to the Argents,” Fallon replies through her own tense smile as she pretends to be having a conversation with someone she likes to avoid suspicious looks from other customers. “That's what I’m doing.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Peter chuckles. “You were already close with Allison long before this. As far as I can tell, this is just two friends spending time together,” his fake smile drops. “I want you to get close to all of them. Specifically her psychotic aunt.”

Fallon feels her breath catch, her heart pounding against her ribs. “Kate?” She echoes in almost disbelief. “How the hell do you expect me to do that? She’s not exactly approachable. I’ve been to Allison’s house a thousand times and I’ve had maybe one conversation with the woman.”

“Then make yourself useful and figure it out,” Peter responds coldly, closing the distance between them in one swift movement. “Find a way. Get into her good graces. Charm her, manipulate her, I don’t care. Just do it.”

Fallon swallows hard, her fingers gripping the fabric of the dress tighter as she feels the familiar chill of fear creeping up her spine. She’s trapped. She’s known for a while now that Peter has a plan for her, but this new directive feels more dangerous, more impossible.

“And if I don’t?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Peter’s sinister grin returns, his expression hardening as he steps even closer, his presence suffocating. He reaches out, yanking her closer to him so he can whisper . The threat is clear in his touch.

“Then I’ll have no choice but to take matters into my own hands,” he murmurs, his voice low and menacing. His eyes flicker to the quickening pulse on her wrist, his fingers tracing lightly along her skin. “You wouldn’t want me to bite you, Fallon. Not unless you’re prepared for what comes after.”

Her breath hitches, fear pooling in her chest as his words sink in. She knows he isn’t bluffing. Fallon has seen what Peter is capable of—felt his power firsthand. The idea of being bitten, of becoming one of them, terrifies her more than she can admit.

“I-I’m trying,” she stammers, barely able to maintain eye contact. “I just—Kate’s different. I don’t know how to get close to her.”

Peter’s voice is soft, but the danger laced within it is obvious. “Then you’d better discover how. Quickly.”

Fallon’s mind races, panic blooming in her chest as she searches for anything to say, any excuse that might buy her time. But the cold reality is settling in: she’s running out of options, and Peter knows it.

“You don’t have long,” he continues, his fingers sliding up from her wrist to rest on her shoulder, deceptively gentle. “Kate knows more than she lets on. If you can’t get information from her, I will—and I won’t be so polite about it.”

The threat hangs heavy in the air between them, and Fallon feels like she’s suffocating under the weight of it. “I don’t think I need to remind you what happens to those who fail me,” he says, his tone giving anyone who could be listening a fake sense of security. “You have until the dance to get me what I need, or consider that your last night as a human.”

The gravity of his words hits her like a punch to the gut, and Fallon feels a wave of cold fear wash over her. She can’t bring herself to say anything, her throat tight with the realization of just how deeply she’s caught in this web.

“I’ll… I’ll figure it out,” she whispers, her voice shaky, barely more than a breath. She hates the way it sounds—so small, so scared—but there’s nothing else she can do.

Peter gives her one last satisfied smirk before turning toward the door. “Good girl,” he says over his shoulder, the words dripping with condescension. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving Fallon standing frozen in place, her pulse still racing, fear and dread twisting in her stomach.

“Oh, and tell Scott while I am impressed with his ingenuity… he can’t be everywhere all the time.” He starts to walk out towards the escalators, “It’s either you or Allison, and considering Scott’s track record when it comes to saving you or her. I’d be a little worried.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon exhales shakily as she steps out of her vehicle and walks up to the Lahey residence. Issac originally was supposed to pick her up from her house for the dance, but his father forbade him from using the car under the impression that Issac was lying about having a date. Luckily, Michael was more than understanding and allowed Fallon to use his car for the night since he didn’t have to work. She would’ve taken her bike but figured it wouldn’t be best in such a long dress.

She knocks on the front door and is met with a muffled string of profanities before the door swings open. She immediately gets a whiff of the whiskey on the breath of who she assumes is Mr. Lahey. The man’s eyes widen when he sees Fallon standing in the doorway.

Peter was right, the dress looks absolutely exemplary on her. The pink shine compliments her perfectly, the light dusting of eye shadow matching the color of the dress. Her heels are only about an inch off the ground and completely white with no stains. She forwent putting on lipstick and stuck with a light layer of chapstick to give her lips a glossy shine. Her hair is left down and curled, small braids wrapping around the crown of her head to make her appear more elegant.

“Dad–” She hears Issac’s frustrated voice as he clambers towards the door. “I said I got it.”

“Yeah, well I got it too,” Mr. Lahey fires back with an unnecessary amount of aggression. His eyes fall back on the brunette at the door, an unsettling smile on his face. “I’m surprised you’re real. You sure he’s not making you go against your will? Or maybe he paid you for your services? Even then I don’t think he’d actually have the guts to pay for an escort.”

His laugh is almost like nails on a chalkboard. Issac’s face flushes red from embarrassment and anger. Fallon feels herself growing more irritated by this man’s behavior. That's his son, and not to mention, they just met and he basically already accused her of being paid to spend time with Issac.

“Thankfully I’m not an escort then,” She replies stiffly. “Your son was sweet enough to even ask me. He doesn’t need to pay me for my services. It’s a pleasure being able to call him my date.” Her tone is definitive and strong, leaving the man unable to argue with her or try to insult Issac.

“I don’t believe you,” Mr. Lahey says flatly, leaning against the doorframe. “Isaac never mentioned anything about a date, and he sure as hell didn’t ask me for permission to go.”

“Well, maybe that’s because he knows how you’d react,” Fallon snaps before she can stop herself. Her voice is sharp, frustration bubbling over. “He deserves to go out and have fun, just like everyone else. You don’t get to control him forever.”

Mr. Lahey’s eyes flash with anger, and he steps closer to her, his posture menacing. “Watch your mouth, girl. You don’t know anything about how I raise my son.”

“I know enough,” Fallon mutters under her breath, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

Just then, the door opens a little wider, and Isaac tries to wriggle his way out of the house. He looks between his father and Fallon, clearly uncomfortable.

“Dad, let me go,” Isaac says, his voice quiet but firm. “I told you last week, I’m going to the dance.”

Mr. Lahey scoffs, turning to Isaac. “You’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think I’m going to let you leave with some… girl you probably had to beg to go with you?”

Isaac flinches at his father’s words, but Fallon steps forward, her protective instinct kicking in. “He didn’t have to beg me,” Fallon says sharply, glaring at Mr. Lahey. “And he’s going to the dance with me. Whether you approve of it or not.”

Mr. Lahey sneers, his eyes flicking between Isaac and Fallon. “You think you can just come into my house and tell me what my son is doing?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Fallon doesn’t back down, her eyes locked on his. “No, but I do think Isaac deserves better than this,” she says, her voice steady. “And you know it. So I’m not telling you what your son is doing, I’m giving him the option because it’s his choice, not yours.”

Isaac’s dad takes a step toward her, but Isaac moves quickly, stepping in between them. “Dad, stop,” Isaac says, his voice shaking slightly. “I’m going with Fallon, and that’s it.”

There’s a tense silence, and for a moment, Fallon wonders if Mr. Lahey is going to lash out. But instead, he just sneers again, backing away slightly.

“Fine,” he spits. “Go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when you screw it up like everything else.”

Isaac winces, but he doesn’t respond. He just nods to Fallon, signaling that they should leave.

Fallon glares at Mr. Lahey one last time before turning on her heel and walking toward the car, Isaac following close behind. Once they’re outside, Fallon lets out a shaky breath, her heart still pounding in her chest.

“I’m sorry about that,” Isaac says quietly, his eyes downcast as they reach the car. “He’s not always like that… but when he gets mad…”

Fallon glances at him, her anger softening into something more protective. “You don’t have to apologize for him,” she says gently, opening the car door for him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Isaac hesitates for a moment, then nods, giving her a small, grateful smile. He gets into the car, and Fallon follows, sliding into the driver’s seat.

As they drive away from the house, Fallon can’t shake the feeling of anger still bubbling inside her. She glances over at Isaac, who’s staring out the window, lost in thought.

“Hey,” she says softly, catching his attention. “You don’t deserve any of that. You know that, right?”

Isaac looks at her, surprised, but then he nods slowly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess I do.”

Fallon smiles, reaching over to squeeze his hand gently. “Good,” she says, her voice firm. “Because tonight, we’re going to have fun. No more thinking about him.”

Isaac manages a small smile, nodding again. “Fun sounds good,” he says, his voice lighter than before.

As they drive off toward the winter formal, Fallon glances back at Isaac’s house one last time, her jaw set. She knows this won’t be the last time they have to deal with his dad. But tonight, she’s going to make sure Isaac gets the chance to forget about all of that, even if it’s just for a few hours.

When they arrive at the school, Fallon ends up parking next to Stiles and Lydia who seem to have just arrived as well. She doesn’t even have the chance to open her door before Issac is rounding the car to do it for her. She smiles as he sticks out his hand for her to take. She jumps down, smoothing over her dress before leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Oh my gosh, Fallon!” Allison runs up to her. “That dress looks amazing on you,” she gushes while Jackson follows begrudgingly.

“Well, you look absolutely stunning,” Fallon compliments back. “Jackson’s lucky he got to take you,” she tries to lighten the expression on Jackson’s face, but he seems too busy brooding on his own. She clears her throat, pulling Issac forward, “And this is Issac, my date. He was sweet enough to take pity on me and ask so I didn’t have to go alone.” She jokes, nudging his side with her hip.

Issac fights off his own blush, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t take pity,” he clarifies. “I actually wanted to ask you like a month ago but it took me a while to actually get myself to do it…” he admits.

Allison smiles at their cuteness, “That’s really sweet.”

Fallon leans into his side slightly, “Yeah, he is.” She loops her arm through his as Allison and Jackson start to head towards the gym. They follow after them, stopping to talk to Lydia and Stiles while Jackson rudely brushes past them.

“Jackson… you look handsome,” Lydia compliments politely.

The blonde smirks, barely even addressing his ex-girlfriend. “Obviously,” he says smugly. “It’s Hugo Boss.” He wraps his arm around Allison before reluctantly escorting her into the school.

Lydia bites the inside of her cheek, looking up at the sky, “I don't care. I don't want compliments. I will not fall prey to society's desire to turn girls into emotional, insecure neurotics who pull up their dresses at the first flattering remark…”

Stiles’ eyes soften as he looks at the short strawberry blonde next to him. “Well, I think you look beautiful,” he tells her genuinely.

Lydia looks up at him, a faint smile covering her cherry red lips. It’s almost like she’s never gotten a compliment that meant so much. “Really?” She asks gently. Stiles simply sticks his arm out for her to take, and she does. She loops hers through his before the two of them start strutting towards the school.

Fallon grins as she watches her friend get a date with his dream girl. Her own arm is still laced with Issac’s. The curly haired boy gets a small surge of confidence, lacing their fingers together which catches her attention. “Y’know you look beautiful too, right?” He tells her, a bit nervous. “I know I haven’t said it until now, but you do look stunning.”

His compliment goes straight to her cheeks. She can’t fight off the small giggle that leaves her lips. “You look pretty handsome yourself,” she says smoothly, messing with his jacket.

“You ready to head in there?” He asks, gesturing over to the blasting music and bright, colorful lights. Shouts of joy are heard from the gym, their fellow peers already starting to enjoy the night's festivities.

“I am if you are,” she replies.

Issac pulls her closer to him before the duo heads into the school. Their eyes widen as they take in the area that once was their high school gym. Whoever is on the dance committee really outdid themselves. The decorations look amazing. While the strobe lights are a bit much, it does add a bit more of a party feel.

Although she has a great date and plans on having a good night, there's still a bit of fear lingering in the back of her mind. She hasn’t even had a chance to talk to Kate. After dress shopping, Fallon spent the night over at Allison’s house in hopes of getting some information from her aunt, but the woman never came home. Peter told her she had until tonight to deliver results, and she has nothing.

“You want some punch?” Issac asks her, his voice raised so she can hear him over the thumping music.

Fallon nods her head, “We should probably get some before Jackson and the rest of the lacrosse guys spike it,” she says, making Issac laugh.

The two head over to the refreshments table, Issac politely grabbing two cups while Fallon gets a plate, filling it with snacks for them to share. Stiles waves the duo over to his and Lydia’s table, causing Fallon to playfully roll her eyes at his inability to talk to women without her present. She places a cookie in Issac’s mouth as they travel over to the table. Fallon takes the seat closest to Lydia, Issac pulling it out of her before taking the chair next to Fallon.

Issac and Fallon have their own hushed conversation as Stiles stares longingly at the dance floor. He wants more than anything to dance with Lydia. Just a chance to get her attention off of Jackson and onto him. Issac tosses a grape into the air, Fallon catching it with her mouth. The two of them cheer obnoxiously making Stiles’ frown more prominent. He doesn’t understand how the two of them can make sitting at a table so entertaining.

He’s slightly jealous by how easy Fallon makes things look. Issac has never been the type of guy to be outgoing or bold, but sitting here with Fallon, no one would be able to tell. Hell, most people forget that the curly haired blonde is even on the lacrosse team. He doesn’t go to parties or school events, yet with her he looks like one of the most popular guys in school. It irritates Stiles to no end that Fallon can do that for Issac but he himself can’t even ask Lydia to dance with him.

Stiles bites his tongue, his leg bouncing up and down. “Screw it,” he mumbles. He turns his head to Lydia, sticking his hand out towards her. “You wanna dance?”

Lydia twirls her hair around her finger, sending him an uninterested smile. “Pass,” she turns him down snidely.

Stiles clenches his jaw, rolling his head back and forth. He stands up from his chair, leaning onto the table to show that he means business. Fallon watches with an amused grin, not used to seeing Stiles take charge. “You know what? Let me try that again-- Lydia, get off your cute little ass and dance with me now.”

Lydia smacks her lips together, pretending like she’s thinking about it. “Interesting tactic,” she hums. “I’m gonna stick with no.”

“Lydia, get up, okay?!” Stiles demands exasperatedly. “You're gonna dance with me. I don't care that you made out with my best friend for some weird power thing. I don't–” Fallon shakes her head, silently saying that is not the route to go to convince her to dance. He sighs, knowing she’s right so he switches gears.

“Lydia, I've had a crush on you since the third grade... And I know that somewhere inside that cold, lifeless exterior, there's an actual human soul. And I'm also pretty sure that I'm the only one who knows how smart you really are. Uh-huh. And that once you're done pretending to be a nit-wit, you'll eventually go off and write some insane mathematical theorem that wins you the Nobel Prize.”

Lydia looks down, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. No one has ever paid that much attention to her before. Or taken the time to notice who she really is. “A Fields Metal,” she corrects him quietly.

Stiles shakes his head, “… What?” He asks, confused.

She stands up, dusting off the imaginary dust on her dress. She takes a step towards him, “Nobel doesn’t have a prize for mathematics. The Fields Medal is the one I’ll be winning,” she states matter-of-factly before pulling Stiles out onto the dance floor. He sticks his hand in the air, quietly celebrating his win.

Fallon chuckles, popping a piece of fruit in her mouth. She watches the teens around her dance to the upbeat music until Issac suddenly stands from his seat. He looks down at her causing her heartbeat to quicken. He offers his hand out to her, “I don’t exactly have a big speech like that to make you swoon or anything… but uh– would you maybe wanna dance with me?”

Fallon places her hand in his with a small smack, pulling herself out of the chair. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The beat of the song is infectious, the kind that makes it impossible to stand still, and Fallon wastes no time throwing herself into the music. She starts moving to the rhythm, her energy vibrant and carefree.

Isaac, on the other hand, is a little more reserved. He sways awkwardly, trying to keep up with the fast tempo but clearly not as confident. Fallon grins at him, shaking her head in mock exasperation.

“Seriously, Isaac? You can’t just stand there like a statue. Have some fun!” she calls over the music.

Isaac chuckles nervously, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really know how to... I mean...”

Fallon isn’t having it. She grabs both of his hands this time, spinning him around before letting go. Isaac stumbles slightly but starts laughing, the awkwardness slowly melting away. Fallon’s infectious energy draws him in, and soon enough, he’s attempting to dance with her.

“There you go!” Fallon shouts, grinning wide as Isaac loosens up.

Isaac shakes his head, laughing. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“You’ll thank me later,” Fallon retorts, spinning in place and throwing her hands up to the beat. “Now just follow my lead!”

Isaac does his best, moving a little more freely now, though his dancing is still a bit hesitant. Fallon doesn’t mind—she’s just happy he’s finally getting into it. They start to dance together, not caring if they look ridiculous, laughing as they mimic the other students’ more over-the-top moves.

At one point, Fallon twirls around and nearly bumps into Isaac. He catches her by the wrist, pulling her back into the rhythm of the dance. Their eyes meet, and for a second, Fallon can see the genuine smile on Isaac’s face—something that makes her heart swell a little.

“You’re not so bad at this,” Fallon says teasingly, swaying to the fast beat, her hair bouncing along with the music.

Isaac grins, his confidence slowly building. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.”

Fallon rolls her eyes and spins around again, this time pulling Isaac with her. “I picked you, Lahey. Get used to it!”

They continue to dance, their movements syncing up as they get more comfortable. Fallon’s laughter fills the air, and Isaac’s initial awkwardness is completely gone, replaced by a kind of carefree fun that Fallon rarely sees in him.

At one point, Isaac takes a bold step and spins Fallon around, catching her slightly off guard. She stumbles for a second but quickly recovers, bursting out laughing. “Whoa! Look at you, showing off!”

Isaac shrugs, smirking. “Guess I’m a fast learner.”

“Oh, you think you’re hot stuff now?” Fallon teases, stepping closer to him and raising an eyebrow.

Isaac chuckles, his eyes gleaming with newfound confidence. “Maybe a little.”

They continue dancing, the fast song driving their energy higher and higher. Fallon can’t help but feel completely alive in this moment, surrounded by flashing lights, laughter, and the thumping beat of the music. And Isaac—he’s right there with her, laughing, moving, and just... being himself.

As the song reaches its climax, Fallon grabs Isaac’s hand and raises it in the air, twirling underneath it one last time. She lands back in front of him, slightly breathless but grinning ear to ear. Isaac is laughing, too, his eyes bright with excitement.

“Okay, okay,” Isaac says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I admit it, this was a good idea.”

Fallon flashes him a playful grin, stepping closer and playfully shoving him on the shoulder. “Told you. Now you just need to loosen up more often.”

Isaac shakes his head, still smiling. “I’ll work on it.”

Fallon smirks, giving him a playful wink. “Good. Because I’m not letting you sit out on any more fast songs tonight.”

Isaac groans, but there’s no hiding the smile on his face. “Deal.”

A few more songs pass, the two of them enjoying the dance floor a little too much. It gets to the point where other couples start surrounding them, cheering on their eccentric behavior. It makes Fallon smile to see Issac not care what everyone else thinks. In class he’s usually pretty shy, doesn’t say much unless he’s asked to. That’s why she was so surprised when he asked her to the dance. But, of course, she could never say no. She’d be crazy if she did. It's just nice seeing him let loose like this, despite his father, his social anxiety, all of it. He’s a really sweet guy and deserves to have a good night.

“McCall!” Coach Finstock’s voice reverberates around the gym causing most heads to turn to him. Fallon internally facepalms. She hoped Scott would at least be able to last an hour without being seen, but that was clearly an unreasonable expectation. “I see you!”

Fallon leans into Issac’s chest, hiding her laughter as Coach shoves through some students to get to Scott. He looks tucked. Scott darts through the auditorium with wide eyes, trying to find a way to escape being kicked out. “Come here, buddy! Come here!”

“McCall! It's a small gym, buddy!” The raven haired man points aggressively at Scott who is still evading his wrath. “I'm gonna find you! I gotcha, McCall! Come here, come here! Get outta my way!” he shoves two dancing students to the side. “McCall!”

Fallon’s jaw drops when she watches Scott frantically run up to Danny. He gesticulates wildly before pulling the goalie up from his chair and wrapping his arms around his neck. He forces Danny to sway back and forth making Fallon cover her mouth with her hand. Issac simply watches with amused eyes while everyone else looks at the scene unfolding with concern.

“McCall! You're not supposed to–” Coach pauses when he realizes who Scott is dancing with. “What the hell are you do– What the hell are you doing?” He asks, flabbergasted.

Scott bats his eyelashes with an innocent smile, “Yes, Coach?”

Coach feels the eyes of every person in the gym on him. He suddenly realizes what this situation could be interpreted as and immediately tries to correct it. “Okay, ho-ho-ho, ha-ha. Hold on, you– I was just saying he's not supposed to– I mean, I wasn't saying that he shouldn't-- You guys don't think– You don't– I-I was–” He throws his hands up, giving up on trying to explain himself. “Just dance, everybody! Just dance! Dance! It's a party!”

Fallon shakes her head as Coach disappears into the crowd, not missing a chance to yell something at Greenberg. Scott lets go of Danny, letting the poor boy return to his own date. Scott walks right over to Allison who greets him with a bright smile and the two begin to dance to the slow song that comes on.

She sighs, taking a step closer to Issac so she can wrap her arms around his neck. He eases his hands onto her waist, the two of them lazily swaying back and forth to the song. She grins up at him, “Thanks for taking me tonight. I’m having a lot of fun.”

“Thanks for saying yes,” he counters. “I probably wouldn’t have come if you didn’t.” He twirls her underneath his arm and pulls her back into him.

Fallon leans her head onto his chest, “Well, I would’ve ended up being a fifth wheel, so I really appreciate you saving my ass from that.” She giggles softly.

“Think of it as payment for you saving me from my dad,” Issac replies gently. “The least I could do after what you did for me back there.”

“Y’know… if you ever need another place to stay, just to get away from your dad for a bit, you could always come to my place,” she suggests kindly. “My dad and I have a spare bedroom, and I know he’d be okay with it if he knew you needed it. He lets Stiles and Scott sleep there all the time.”

He sucks in a deep breath, “No, it’s okay,” he says unsurely. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” Fallon counters. “I’m offering. I’d feel much better if I knew you were in a safe environment at least some of the time.”

Issac sees nothing but genuineness in her eyes. He knows his father would never allow him, but maybe that’s the point. This could be his potential escape. “Okay…” he mumbles with a nod. “If I need it, I’ll call you.”

Fallon can take that, “Okay,” she agrees.

Another slow song comes on, allowing her and Issac to simply dance in silence. He rests his chin on her head as she keeps her head on his chest. She closes her eyes, relaxing into his warmth. It’s nice having a normal night. Being here almost makes her forget about Peter's threat.

She opens her eyes momentarily and immediately frowns. She watches as Lydia walks away from Stiles, leaving her buzz cut best friend with a dejected expression. The strawberry blonde walks out of the gym, making Fallon tilt her head out of curiosity.

“Hey… do you mind if we go check on Stiles?” She asks Issac kindly. “Lydia just walked away from him and he looks pretty beat up about it.”

“Yeah,” Issac nods. “Let’s go.” He takes her hand in his before walking over to the table where Stiles just sat down at. Issac sits down next to Fallon while she sits next to Stiles.

“What just happened?” Fallon asks curiously. “You guys seemed all up close and cozy up there. Where’d she go?”

“Went to look for Jackson,” he grumbles irritatedly, slumping down in his chair. “I should’ve expected she would.”

Fallon’s mouth is agape, “And you just let her go? By herself?” She flicks his forehead. “You could’ve gone with her, stupid.”

“And witness her try to win him back?” Stiles scoffs sarcastically. “I’ll pass.”

“Okay, but what if she can’t find him?” Fallon brings up. “It’s probably not a good idea to let her wander around the school at night by herself. Doesn’t exactly go great for us when we do that,” she mutters the last part.

“She doesn’t want me to go after her,” Stiles says, his confidence shot. “She’ll just call me annoying and tell me to go away.”

Sympathy fills Fallon’s veins. Lydia is literally the love of his life and she can tell how upset he is by her leaving. He doesn’t blame her though. Lydia loves Jackson. She can’t turn that off just because she’s having a nice time with Stiles.

Fallon sighs, “You’re not annoying, Sti,” she squeezes his knee reassuringly. “You have no idea how much tonight probably meant for her.” She smiles at him, standing up from her chair. “I’m gonna go see if I can find her, okay?” She glances up at Isaac, a teasing grin on her face. “If you wanna finish the song out boys, I’d love to get a photo of you dancing with each other.” She pats Stiles’ shoulder. “Issac’s a really good dancer by the way. I think you’d like it.” She shouts to them before walking out of the gym.

The brunette girl takes a step out into the quiet hallway and feels instantly refreshed. She didn’t realize how sweaty and suffocating it was in the gym until now. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, looking around the hallway and peeking into unlocked classrooms. They have teachers patrolling the halls so they wouldn’t have been able to go upstairs.

She keeps an eye out for either Jackson or Lydia, in hopes if she finds one, she’ll find the other. She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she takes a step outside. She left her jacket in the car, feeling the slight urge to go and grab it, but she doesn’t. She keeps her head on a swivel, “Lydia?” She calls out.

The night air is crisp, the stars shining brightly overhead. It’s eerily quiet as she walks around the outside of the campus. She would’ve assumed there would be more teens fraternizing in their cars, but it doesn’t look like there’s anyone. It’s completely deserted. The moon illuminates her body, her white shoes shining under the glow. Even her dress sparkles underneath the natural lighting. She normally would stop and admire the environment around her, but her mind is too preoccupied with being worried about Lydia.

She rounds the corner of the building and over to the lacrosse field. That’s when she finally hears Lydia’s confused voice. “Jackson?” She yells out into the darkness. “Jackson?!”

“Lydia!” Fallon calls out to the girl, taking off her heels before beginning her trek into the field. She didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good pair of shoes on the freshly watered grass.

Lydia stops, tilting her head as Fallon grows closer. Once she reaches her side in the center of the field she furrows her eyebrows, “What are you doing here?” Lydia asks.

“Stiles told me you came out here alone to look for Jackson,” Fallon explains. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Suddenly the lights to the field turn on one by one. The girls freeze, panic striking them from the top of their heads to the soles of their feet. Lydia grips Fallon’s hand tightly, the brunette not protesting the contact. Something doesn’t feel right. Her heart thumps against her ribcage, neither of them being able to see past the blinding lights.

“Jackson? Is that you?” Lydia says, walking them slightly closer. That’s when Fallon sees it. Someone’s walking towards them from the woods behind the field. She can’t quite make out who it is, but something inside of her is saying that it’s not Jackson.

“Lyds,” Fallon tugs her arm, trying to move further away. “I think we should head back…”

“Jackson!” She tries again. “Is that you?” She narrows her eyes, her voice fading as the person grows closer.

Fallon’s breath catches in her throat as she gets a small glimpse of who is barrelling towards them, “Peter,” she whimpers.

“FALLON! LYDIA! RUN!” Stiles’ voice carries over the empty field, the boy shouting at the top of his lungs as he runs as fast as he can towards the two. He has to save them.

By the time they turn back around, Peter is too close to escape from. Fallon screams in horror as he attacks Lydia, rendering her unconscious. She tries to run, but her world fades into black as a sudden pain surges through her side. Her eyes slide shut, eyelashes fluttering as her body collides with the floor. Blood leaks from her side, Peter kneeling menacingly above both her and Lydia’s bodies.

Stiles falls to his knees, body trembling as he sees the torn up state the two most important women in his life are in. “Don't kill them…” he pleads, completely terrified. “Please…”

Blood drips down from the corner of Peter’s mouth. He looks up with a fake kindness, “ Of course not,” he says as if he isn’t slowly letting them bleed out beneath him. “Just tell me how to find Derek.” He states.

“W-what?” Stiles stutters, not understanding how he would know that.

“Well, since Fallon here failed at getting close to the Argents, I don’t have a connection to help me find my nephew,” Peter pouts. “So Stiles…. Tell me how to find Derek Hale.”

Stiles scoffs, his eyes flashing down to Fallon who seems to be bleeding a lot more profusely than Lydia. “I don’t know that,” he says fearfully. “How would I know that?”

“Because you're the clever one, aren't you?” Peter asks rhetorically, setting his hand dangerously close to Fallon’s bite mark. “And because deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles.” He leans forward making Stiles shake even more, “Tell me the truth…” he glances down, “or I will rip them apart.”

Tears start to well up being Stiles’ eyes. He can’t watch them die. He can’t sit here and watch his best friend die. “Look-look, I don't know, okay? I sw-swear to God, I have no idea

“TELL ME!” Peter growls loudly, his voice deepening a few octaves, making the ground shake beneath them.

Stiles winces, wracking his brain for information quickly, “Okay, okay, okay, look... I-I think he knew–” His voice cracks as he tries to calm his breathing.

“Knew what?” Peter questions impatiently.

”Derek,” Stiles elaborates as best as he can. “I think he... I think he knew he was gonna be caught.”

“By the Argents?” Peter clarifies, his claws still tracing the gaping wound in Fallon’s skin.

“Yeah…” He nods with begging eyes, silently praying that he leaves the girls alone.

Peter continues fishing, needing more information. He can tell Stiles is holding something back. “And?” He gestures for the boy to continue.

“When they were shot, he and Scott-- I think he took Scott's phone,” Stiles finds the courage to make eye contact.

The older man creases his eyebrows, “Why?”

“They all have GPS now. So, if he still has it, and if it's still on... you can find him.”

*ೃ༄ tags˚◞♡ ⃗

@iamaslytherin0 @famousrunaway1329 @avengersheart @random-fangirl003 @mysticliars-blog1

[maarriiii]

Teen Wolf Masterlist

Isaac Lahey

The Best Fight

You Sound Really Great

Get Away From My Cousin

Here Goes Nothing

Ms. Grumpy

Too Little, Too Late

The Wingwoman

Derek Hale

Soon

Stiles Stilinski

Keep An Extra Eye

Cute

[randomperson351]

Meet the parents - MH

Summary: Malia can't believe you would betray her like this, and with her own father.

Do not repost or rewrite any of my work. Minors and ageless blogs get blocked.

Masterlist Asks

...

There was something wrong. Malia could sense it as soon as she stepped out of the elevator. There was the sweet ringing of your laughter but it was combined with a deeper male chuckle and the scents coming from the apartment were all wrong.

Surely this couldn't be happening, things had been going so well between you two recently.

Preparing for the worst Malia turned the door handle and craned her neck round the door, finding the very thing she was afraid of.

"Oh hey Lia!"

"Malia, I wondered when you might be joining us."

"What are you doing here?"

"Parental concern. I was going to go looking for you but then I met this wonderful young lady here, who is an absolute delight by the way, and decided to stick around until you got back."

Malia stepped all the way through the door and closed it with her foot, eyeing you with a look of betrayal at letting Peter into your apartment to stain the couch with his expensive cologne that was currently burning her nostrils.

"Sorry." You mouthed to her and shrugged, biting your lip to contain the smile that threatened to burst at the disgruntled expression on her face.

"What are you even talking about anyway? I could hear you laughing from outside." Begrudgingly Malia set her bags down and flopped practically all the way over you, swinging her legs up to rest her socked feet over her father's legs. You wrapped your arms around her middle and gave her a squeeze, pressing a small kiss to her forehead in greeting.

Peter smiled at the adoring look on his daughter's face as she leaned up to get a proper kiss from you, contentment rolling off her despite the blase front she was putting on. His hand found its way to the exposed skin on Malia's ankle and rubbed at the smooth surface, pleased at the way she melted even further.

"How I'm planning to make sure this one becomes my daughter in law."

Malia balked at first but then softened the more she considered it; coming home to you bundled on the couch waiting for her, shared kisses under the moonlight of a full moon, making dinner together in the late hours of the evening.

"Well who's to say I haven't already planned something?"

"You don't have to lie Malia, we were just joking." You whispered in her hair, although she caught a subtle dip in your scent.

"I wasn't. I think you're it for me."

You didn't know what to say, you could only stare at her earnest expression with rapidly glistening eyes.

"Really?"

"I hate to break up the love confessions but I do feel, as father of the bride, that I should get a say in at least the gifts of the wedding."

"I haven't even proposed yet." Malia told Peter, wiggling her toes when he tried to massage the balls of her feet.

"Well you'd better get on with it because she is coming into this family whether you do it or I do."

Malia looked up to you in doubt, caressing your hands that were still wrapped round her. "You sure you want to join whatever this is?"

"Mmhmm." You nodded.

Lifting herself up to press your foreheads together Malia took a moment to breath you in deeply before smiling to herself and giving into the temptation to press soft kisses to your cheeks, finally taking your lips and starting what was really an inappropriate make out session in front of a parental figure but she didn't pay Peter much mind when she had your tongue licking against hers.

"What about a spring wedding?" Peter mused. "I've always loved the flowers that come out in spring."

"That's for me and my fiancé to decide, father. You can set the gift list." Turning back to you Malia licked along the seam of your lips, sneaking in a kiss before you pushed her away with rapidly reddening cheeks, suddenly aware of Peter watching you both.

"But I have great taste!" He remarked offended.

"Which is why you're in charge of the gifts, so we only get the good stuff."

"I guess it will do for now." He sighed. "If you're seriously going to do this you'll want to get in touch with Derek so he join your bond and officiate you into the pack."

"I'll text him tonight." You agreed.

"Now will you please leave so I can have sex with my girlfriend?" Malia begged, using her feet as leverage to kick him off the couch.

"I think you mean fiancé."

Peter narrowly missed being assaulted by his daughter's shoe on the way out.

[s0urw00lf]

OMG! Same!!!

oh yeah i love reading (fan-fictions to dissociate).

[here-to-read-and-write]

(Teen Wolf x reader)

summary: You wanted a normal life, this isn't normal.

warning: reaincarnation, death, mention of death, overpowered reader, mentien of yn, no name to the reader, maybe poly relationshipes, blood.werewolf. some Angst. Futur Spoliers, for both the series and movie. Some changes in the story. First time writting about teen wolf, some characters are out of character

Chapter 1: Not so broken promise.

_You promised!

You looked at God, for the first time since you had become his messager to the "New world". No, not like the old one, where you used to live, a new earth. An earth that hasn't been destroyed by humans, not yet at least.

You were to protect his favorite beens the humans, from all the other creatures that lived inside and outside the planet. That humans didn't known about, and shouldn't know, no matter the consequences, in exchange he would give you a normal life, somewhere in another dimension.

You didn't care where to go, you just wanted a life,no fighting, a life where you can be selfish. Where you can buy a cottage near the ocean or forest, and maybe start a family, adopt a kid or two. You don't want to get marry so adoption was you solition.

_I know, I know...but..

His voice was inside your head, and you didn't know if it was a female or male. All you you could get from it, was how tired it was.

_but what?

You were tired too, but did you stop, NO, you fought for centuries until the humanity was able to protect itself, and he rewarded by trapping you inside a cube, a fucking cube....You know now how Morpheus felt like.

_but you are my best soldier!

The earth benith you start shaking, and you knew he stood up, or maybe just his hands that moved in frustration.It would have scared you, and it should had,if you weren't blinded by rage.

_I never signed up for this!

True you never signed for any of this, one day you just woke up, and boom you become God's soldier. Three years later he come and ask you to do the dirty job, killing and turtoring. The first time you engaged in a fight, you come back bruised and at the verge of death, and the more and more you continue, the more powerfull you become , making you lean more into your sadistic part, and that when God come again, and offored something you had were greedy for.

Money.

It started with money, and when you were bored of. He offered to give you a family,and the more time past the more you start craving something normal, and God given it to you, except peace, that was the only thing God couldn't give you. The peace to wake up and not have to fight, and you should have known better than to beleive him, when he promised to let you go, once the humans are able to protect themselves.

The power you hold was immense and unbreakbale but to God, it was nothing.

He could have taken it anytime he wanted,so Haven't he?

You shacked you head disapointed, and soon as you meet his "eyes" you found youself doubting him more and more.

Was the devil right, when he said that God was not what you were seeing. At that time, you called him liar, because at that time centuries had passed, and God, who you saw as a friend was the only thing that didn't leave, die, or change.

Now you found yourself, believing the devil over your "friend". Maybe you should have listened to him, and killed yourself. Instead of getting your heart broken, so loudly, that all heaven could hear it. Just like how they can hear him break his promise.

A loud sigh could be here. Before thunder and storm start to pick up.

_FINE!

He screamed, waving his hand encouraging the storm to get stronger, and if it wasn't for your power, you would have been flying like the little angels...poor them.

Seconds passed, and you closed you eyes waiting for punishment for standing against God. No one defien him, no one dared to, and you just did.

Once the storm calmed, you opened your eyes to find yourself, in the middle of a living room. Your dream living room.

Your face light up, as a smile starr to grow more and more, to a point where you face start to hurt, but you couldn't help it.

Jumping around you inspeckted every peace of the room, before running like a headless chiken to see the other room.

There was one kitchen, six bedroom, and each had it own bathroom and balcony. A garden with it door open to the kitchen.

OMG You were jumping around, shringing.

THIS WAS YOUR DREAM HOUSE!

And it was no longer a wish or a dream!

You couldn't beleive it.

_Thank you, thank you, thank you.

You kept screaming, thanking God, for keeping his promise.

Maybe he really wasn't a liar, after all!