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wolfsbane chapter three - pack mentality

chapter three - pack mentality

Scott is left in utter disbelief as his vivid dream of being assaulted on a school bus suddenly materializes before his eyes. Desperate for solace, he turns to Derek for support, only to be warned that help won't come without a price. Derek reminds the young werewolf of the unintentional role he played in sabotaging Derek's date with (Y/N), making it clear that their friendship may be tested in the process.

Work count – 15.496

Wednesday, September 20th

As the rain poured down on the September night, it seemed to awaken a sense of adventure in the creatures of the night. From mischievous foxes rummaging through bins to young lovebirds seeking stolen moments, the atmosphere was ripe with excitement. Scott, too, longed for an undercover rendezvous with Alison, yearning for their private world under the cover of darkness. “Come on.” With hearts aflutter, the young couple dashed out of the school's main building and into the staff car park, their laughter echoing through the air as they revelled in their playful escapades. “Where are you taking me?” Above, the ominous flickering of fluorescent lights created a haunting scene, as their shadows danced across the wet pavement and disappeared behind the old, yellow buses. “Somewhere where we can be alone.“ Scott's face, bronzed by the sun, beamed with joy as he turned to Allison, never letting go of her hand. “We are alone...” the smiling boy positioned himself against the bus door, finding comfort as he leaned back. With a tender gesture, he drew Allison closer, their faces inching closer to one another. “Somewhere where we can be more alone.”

With a gentle push, Scott opened the folding door and cast his eyes upon Allison, who exuded an irresistible allure. Their gazes locked smiles lingering on their lips until Scott took the lead and guided her into the room. “Come on!” he strolled halfway down the aisle, then settled into the seat on the right side, leaning against the grimy window. Allison, feeling mischievous, plopped down on the seat opposite him and locked eyes with a playful smirk. He gazed at the brunette, his smile tinged with nervousness; she nonchalantly shrugged and mirrored his grin. With a nervous bite of his lip, the boy with captivating brown eyes mustered up the courage to approach his crush and take a seat beside her. Leaning over, he steadied himself by gripping the headrest in front of them, before gently pressing his lips against hers, which were beautifully adorned with gloss.

In a passionate embrace, the two locked lips, their desire intertwining like a synchronized dance. Scott's hands eagerly moved to unbutton Allison's blouse, while his other hand tightened its grip, his dark hair and nails digging into the leather, leaving marks of their intensity. With each kiss on Allison's delicate neck, Scott's control began to crumble, like fragile porcelain on the verge of shattering. As he felt his inner wolf growing more powerful, he quickly pulled away from Allison. He kept his head down, hiding his amber eyes and animalistic features behind his curly hair. Allison, still recovering from the intense desire that had clouded her mind, looked up at him with sleepy eyes and spoke softly in a hesitant tone. “What's wrong?” With a sudden jolt, Scott took a step back and pivoted on his heels. He leaned against the two seats behind him, his furry paws gripping the fabric tightly. His breathing grew more laboured, and he lowered his head as he spoke in a hushed and urgent tone. “Get away!” With a low, menacing growl, he pivoted, deliberately positioning himself to face away from Allison. As he did so, the bus appeared to bask in a gentle radiance emanating from his eyes, offering a stark contrast to the icy predator lurking within him. “Scott?” Gasping for breath, his forehead creased, his hairline forming a distinctive V-shape, and his sideburns extending into wild, untamed mutton chops. Allison positioned herself behind the troubled teenager, her face filled with worry as she observed him. “Scott?” she repeated. With his grip on control slipping, Scott pleaded for her to keep her distance, his voice punctuating his snarl. “Get away from me...”

With his ears elongating and their ends becoming pointed, and his fangs protruding as drool flowed down in heavy streams, he found himself unable to resist facing Allison, who, as anticipated, was overcome with fear and began to withdraw gradually. Gasping for air, Scott observed her intently, his sight tinged with a crimson haze. The wolf within him had triumphed in the struggle for control. With measured steps, Allison cautiously retreated down the aisle, while the boy, resembling a predator stalking its prey, advanced towards her. Completely clueless, Allison found herself at a loss for what to do. I mean, who wouldn't be in that situation? It's like one moment her boyfriend is showering her with passionate kisses, and the next he's chasing her down like a predator after its prey. Filled with terror, she let out a desperate moan and bolted towards the nearest exit, hoping to escape the chaos. Scott's lightning-fast reflexes kicked in as he swiftly dropped to his knees and seized her ankle, forcefully pulling her back towards him. The piercing sound of her screams reverberated within the confines of the metallic vehicle. Desperate to escape his inhuman grip, Allison frantically searched for something, anything, to cling onto and free herself from his clutches. The once flawless nails, now chipped, grazed against the cold metal legs of the seats. With determination, she managed to grasp onto one of the legs, finding support as she delivered a swift kick to her boyfriend's sculpted chest. With a sudden burst of energy, Allison sprang up and raced towards the front of the bus. However, her progress was halted by the seemingly impenetrable doors that blocked her path. She was stuck, with no way out.

Despite the small amount of moonlight that seeped into the bus, the girl's broken body was surrounded by a chilling pool of crimson liquid. However, her fear did not deter her from relentlessly pounding and striking the glass with every ounce of strength she had left in her petite frame. As the seat flew down the aisle, she instinctively pressed herself against the entrance, narrowly escaping being struck by it. Desperately, she wedged her bloodied fingers into the narrow gap between the door and the frame, only to witness Scott's eerie transformation as he slowly approached her once again. The creature’s eyes were now completely yellow and bloodshot, while Allison desperately pushed her fingers through the narrow opening in the door. With a final burst of strength, she managed to pry it open, only to be seized by the werewolf, its icy grip on her face sending shivers down her spine. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream and was forcefully pushed back, causing the door to slam shut once more. Her face collided with the window, and she surrendered to the chase as Scott's excitement grew.

(Y/N)'s day began like any other, with a soothing cup of lavender tea and a moment of tranquillity in her blossoming garden. The world around her appeared harmonious, devoid of any disruptions. After bidding farewell to her faithful feline companion, she ignited her engine and embarked on her daily journey into town. (Y/N) marvelled at the differences between Beacon Hills and her former homes. In New Orleans, she frequented small businesses and sought out handmade items, while in Texas, she found herself surrounded by big-box stores like Walmart and Target, with a Starbucks seemingly on every block. Despite the contrast, she enjoyed exploring the unique offerings of each place. Beacon Hills was the epitome of a harmonious blend, combining the best of both worlds. However, what truly captivated (Y/N)'s heart was the school itself. She yearned for the opportunity to attend classes and immerse herself in the same knowledge as her peers. Perhaps her life would have taken a different path had she been granted that chance. If only her teachers had shown more concern, things like her spelling skills would have improved. As she waited at the traffic light outside the school, she overheard a group of teenagers chatting and giggling. However, as soon as she rounded the corner, the atmosphere changed drastically. Parked by the staff entrance, a police car and an ambulance stood still. Uniformed officers, frozen in shock, witnessed the gruesome scene, some even succumbing to nausea. Suddenly, her eyes locked on the bus. Its vibrant yellow hue was now marred by the unmistakable splatters of blood. “Oh my god,” With a hushed tone, she carefully examined the metal frame, her eyes fixated on the unmistakable claw marks that were deeply engraved into it.

As the doors of the school groaned open, Scott and Stiles stepped inside, their minds already wandering to the endless possibilities of the day. “So, you killed her?” The werewolf struggled to convey the bizarre dream to his companion, but the more he recounted the details, the more vivid it became in his mind. He could only pray that Alison was nearby. “I don't know. I just woke up. I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before.” A look of astonishment crossed Stiles' face as he lifted his eyebrows in response to Scott's remark. “Really? I have. Usually ends a little differently...” the young wolf responded with a dismissive gesture of his eyes as if he had just rolled them in disbelief, all while holding his cup of coffee. “A) I mean I've never had a dream that felt that real, and B) Never give me that much detail about you in bed again.” With a quick nod, the buzzcut boy acknowledged the statement. “Noted.” Stiles hesitated, gathering his thoughts before mustering the courage to address something he knew Scott wouldn't be thrilled to hear. He cleared his throat and began to speak, his words carefully chosen. “Let me take a guess here—"

“No, I know. Do you think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out?” A look of shock crossed Stiles' face as if he had been personally affronted by Scott's implication. “No, of course not.” his gaze bore into Stiles, his eyes filled with intensity. He had spent enough time with Stiles to see through his facade, and finally, Stiles relented, admitting defeat.”...Yeah, that's totally it,” Scott's gaze bore into Stiles, his eyes filled with intensity. He had spent enough time with Stiles to see through his facade, and finally, Stiles relented, admitting defeat. “Hey, come on! It's gonna be fine, all right? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty frickin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take.“ Scott's hands shot up in disbelief as he silently communicated his frustration to his best friend. However, Stiles' ridiculous joke sparked a new idea in his mind. Perhaps not a traditional textbook, but there could be other resources to help him learn. “Yeah... not a class, but maybe a teacher.“ Incoherent mutterings escaped his lips as Stile's head jerked back and forth, vehemently rejecting the thoughts that plagued Scott's mind. “Who, Derek? Are you forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?” Despite being fully aware of those facts, he couldn't help but respond in the same exasperated tone as the energetic teen. “Yeah, I know, but chasing Allison, dragging her to the back of the bus... it felt so real.“ With a hint of scepticism, Stiles rolled his eyes, his chocolate orbs reflecting his doubt, and retorted in his usual sarcastic tone. “How real?” he asked. The shapeshifted shrugged. “Like it actually happened.”

As Scott and Stiles made their way towards the back building, they both pushed open the back doors at the same time. However, just as they were about to continue walking to class, their steps came to an abrupt halt. Their eyes widened in shock, resembling saucepans, as they were met with a horrifying sight - an overwhelming amount of blood. Numerous police officers and an ambulance were stationed nearby, creating a scene of commotion. The air was filled with the sound of people conversing, occasionally interrupted by the loud pops of camera shutters. The sheriff's deputies had cordoned off the area surrounding one of the golden buses, which had its back covered in blood and its emergency exit door severely damaged. “...I think it did,” Stiles whispered.

Once more, the duo dashed through the corridors, with Stiles desperately attempting to calm down a frantic Scott. Sweat trickled down his face as he anxiously scrolled through his phone, desperately searching for any trace of a message or missed call from his crush. “She's probably fine-" “She's not answering my texts, Stiles.” Scott's eyes darted anxiously across the bustling hallways, desperately searching for any trace of Allison amidst the sea of students. He scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar brown hair and those captivating amber eyes that always seemed to sparkle. However, no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of her presence, no scent to guide him towards her. “It could just be a coincidence, all right?” tiles stumbled over his words, his speech faltering. The boy with the buzzcut was well aware that the evidence presented made his claim seem rather implausible. “A seriously amazing coincidence-“

“Just help me find her, okay?” Scott continued to pace back and forth as he made his way down the hallway, glancing at the numerous students he passed. The colour of his olive skin turned a deep shade of red, reflecting the anger and frustration he felt towards himself. “Do you see her?” Stiles, quieter than his closest pal, diligently shifted his gaze from left to right, rapidly surveying the crowd with utmost attentiveness. “No...” his eyes remained fixed on the scene, his fingers nervously tousling his hair. Suddenly, he quickened his pace and swiftly turned the corner, his composure slipping away. Stiles, also filled with panic, desperately tried to keep up but was swallowed by the bustling crowd. Meanwhile, Scott fought to regain control of his breath, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Leaning heavily against a locker, he gripped it tightly with both hands. His eyes flickered from brown to gold as he let out a guttural scream, causing those nearby to jump in fright. With a forceful punch, he struck the blue metal door, causing it to shake and clang loudly, the sound echoing down the empty hallway as the hinges groaned. he snapped back to reality, realizing the gravity of his actions, and swiftly made his escape. He retreated down the hallway, eventually reaching a crossroads where he abruptly turned around, only to collide with another student - Allison. Her radiant smile and shimmering pink lips instantly eased the tension within the young wolf, as she playfully chuckled at his antics. “You scared the hell out of me!” A sigh escaped from Scott's lips, unable to be contained. His face lit up with relief as he gazed upon the stunning new girl, standing before him, full of life and vitality. ”You're okay!” As she assumed he was talking about the collision they just had, he knelt and picked up her books from the dirty ground beside her. “Once my heart starts beating again, yeah.” She joked. “What?” As she gazed upon him, she couldn't help but notice the expression of pure relief that washed over his face. “I'm just happy to see you.” His words flowed effortlessly, evoking a gentle blush that painted her cheeks in a subtle shade of pink. Just as their moment began to feel uncomfortable, the principal's voice broke the silence, resonating through the PA system in the background. “Attention students, this is your principal. I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses... While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as usual.”

A collective groan echoed through the hallway as the students heard the disappointing news. Meanwhile, Allison, seemingly oblivious to the principal's words, flashed a shy smile at Scott and playfully tousled his hair with her gentle touch. “Save me a seat at lunch?” she asked. he replied with a light nod, “Yeah.”

As Allison made her way to class, he watched her turn and start walking in the opposite direction towards his own destination. While he strolled down the hallway, he couldn't help but notice the faint sounds of a locker door creaking, which caught his attention when he reached the junction between the two halls. Jackson let out a frustrated groan as he shifted his attention towards his teammate, who was watching him with an intense gaze that only served to irritate him further. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't manage to get the locker shut, which only added to his mounting frustration. With a dismissive huff, he turned his cold blue eyes back to Scott. “What are you looking at, asswipe? A deep growl escaped his lips as his face flushed crimson with anger. Scott's guilty yet amused expression perfectly contrasted Jackson's furious countenance before he spun around and made his way to his class, feeling a sense of relief lifting the burden from his weary shoulders.

“I'm being serious Deaton! This isn’t just an animal. These killings aren’t just an animal going after prey. This beast went after the driver on purpose.” Blood trickled down her fingertips as she anxiously chewed on the torn skin around her nails. Her phone was tightly gripped in her other hand as she spoke worriedly to her friend. With each passing moment, she feared that her grip would cause the device to shatter into fragments. Despite the comforting words from Deaton, the caring veterinarian, she couldn't shake off the feeling of impending danger. “(Y/N) Please try not to panic yourself about this. Just because you are close by does not mean it knows you are here.” The calming voice was helping. “I know but how do you know.” She cried.

Derek strolled aimlessly through the supermarket, struggling to hold onto his bulging shopping bag. The chaos of his morning had taken an unexpected turn with the news of the attack. Although he was aware of what had occurred, it wasn't the kind of situation one would typically report to the authorities. As he stepped out of the now bustling store, the warm rays of the morning sun caressed his face, and his senses were immediately captivated by a familiar aroma. It was unmistakably (Y/N)'s blood that wafted through the air, emanating from across the street where she passionately vented her frustrations on the phone. Derek was deeply concerned when he noticed that her fingers were gnawed down to her hand. The sight of her stress and fear unsettled him, as he wanted nothing more than for her to be content and at ease, especially since he was looking forward to his date. “I'll see you later Deaton I’m gonna get some things for tonight then I'll be right there.” With a resolute gaze, she ended the call and embarked on a purposeful journey through the store. Clutching the assortment of items, she had gathered, he observed her peculiar selection at the checkout counter. It was a curious mix of cleaning chemicals that should never be combined, alongside mason jars and garden compost bins.

Exiting the supermarket, she tightly held her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found Melissa's number. With a quick tap, she initiated the call. Placing her shopping bags on top of her parked car, she couldn't help but smile as she heard her friend's voice on the other end. Meanwhile, Derek observed the woman, eavesdropping on the conversation that followed. “hey Mel, quick and weird question.” She giggled nervously, “Do you happen to know any hunters in town or nearby?” As soon as the word "hunter" reached Derek's ears, his heart dropped and anxiety washed over him, causing his body to perspire profusely. “I need some animal bones for some new jewellery pieces…” A faint flutter in her chest betrayed a small untruth escaping her mouth. Derek briskly strode along the street, his worst fears becoming a reality. He was certain she had discovered his secret, perhaps even aware of Scott's involvement. The timing of her arrival in town on the same night as the Argents and her sudden interest in Hunters seemed too coincidental. The idea of his wolf forming a bond with a hunter was unsettling. However, he reminded himself not to jump to conclusions just yet. Perhaps her inquiry about jewellery was genuine, and he was being too quick to judge her. Taking some time to reflect might provide clarity. The question remained, though - would his wolf be willing to let her go?

“Maybe it was my blood on the door...” he mumbled in his seat. The chemistry classroom bustling with students, engrossed in discussing the bus attack. Stiles found himself seated in the second row from the back, sharing a two-person desk, while Scott occupied the desk directly in front, hindering their conversation. “Could have been animal blood.” stiles argued With a nonchalant shrug, Stiles motioned towards the pencil he held in his mole-decorated hand. back. Suddenly, silence fell upon them as their teacher, Mr. Harris, strode over to his desk, instilling fear in everyone. “You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something?” A look of sheer disbelief crossed his face as he heard the theory, leaving him visibly shocked. “And did what?” Mr. Harris continued writing notes on the chalkboard, as a beaker filled with clear liquid bubbled on a stand above a Bunsen burner. Upon hearing Stiles' voice, the teacher couldn't help but roll his eyes. “Ate it.” stiles finished. With a dismissive snort, the buzzcut teen shot Scott a pointed glare and retorted in a tone dripping with sarcasm. “No, you stopped to bake it in a little Werewolf oven! I don't know, you're the one who can't remember anything.” The young wolf's offence lingered, yet both he and the other person failed to realize that their intimidating teacher had been observing their conversation. With a stern expression and hands on his hips, Mr. Harris couldn't hold back any longer and interjected in a snide tone, interrupting their discussion.

“Mr. Stilinski, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?” Harris, with a serious expression, locked eyes with secret werewolf and motioned towards the front of the classroom, indicating that he wanted Scott to relocate. He then repeated the gesture with Stiles, choosing a seat in the back but on the opposite side of where he was sitting. The duo let out frustrated sighs and begrudgingly gathered their books and papers, obediently making their way to their assigned desks. “Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much.” As the fluffy-haired boy took his seat at the desk, he noticed another student sitting beside him who appeared unfazed by the two’s mischievous behaviour. However, after a while, Scott's intuition kicked in and he felt a strange vibe. When he glanced back, he caught Jackson's intense gaze fixed upon him, clearly indicating that his captain was still determined to uncover his secret. Stiles' new desk partner glanced at the window and became instantly captivated by the commotion outside. Without hesitation, she sprang to her feet and hurried over to the window, eager to catch a closer glimpse in a flash. “Hey! I think they found something!”

The rest of the students, craving a diversion, leapt up and rushed towards the windows to join her. In the parking lot, an ambulance sat at a corner, its lights flashing and sirens blaring. Two paramedics swiftly pushed a stretcher carrying a middle-aged man towards the open doors at the back of the ambulance. Scott, filled with dread and convinced of the man's demise, glanced at his friend, who had come over to stand beside him. “That's not a rabbit...” Just as the paramedics were preparing to load the stretcher into the ambulance, an unexpected twist occurred. The man, who was previously lying down, swiftly sat up and tightly gripped the shoulders of the paramedics standing beside him. Fear consumed him, causing him to unleash a piercing scream that echoed through the air. “AHHHHH!” Startled by a sudden movement and a piercing scream, the students inside couldn't help but flinch. Overwhelmed, he retreated from the windows and positioned himself in the centre of the room. Sensing his distress, Stiles approached him, offering solace and support. “Okay. This is good. This is good! He got up, he's not dead. Dead guys can't do that.” A wave of despair washed over Scott as they received confirmation that someone had been gravely injured during the events of the previous night. Their face twisted with anguish, burdened by an overwhelming sense of guilt. “Stiles, I did that.”

Once chemistry had finished and lunch began, the duo abandoned the bustling lunch line, making their way towards an unoccupied table with their trays of food. Stiles leaned in close to his friend, his voice hushed but still audible. “But dreams aren't memories.” Scott placed his tray on the table, carefully setting down his backpack on the chair beside him. Stiles followed suit, mirroring his friend's actions. “Then it wasn't a dream...” Seated opposite each other, they carried on with their conversation, their words flowing nervously. “Something happened last night, and I can't remember what.”

“What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?” Scott shot Stiles a fearful glance, his eyes darting anxiously as he cautiously resumed his train of thought, speaking in hushed tones about the mysterious older wolf. “During my transformation, he wasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night, attacking some totally innocent guy.” Stiles let out a heavy sigh, reluctant to accept the truth of his own words. “You don't know that.” Scott remained unconvinced by the words of his closest companion. “I don't not know it.” he hesitated, nibbling on his lip as he pondered for a brief moment before letting out a sigh of resignation. “I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel.”

“No, you're not cancelling, okay? You can't just cancel your entire life! We'll figure it out.” suddenly, Lydia emerged from behind the werewolf, her gaze filled with curiosity as she forcefully placed her lunch tray on the table to Scott's left, capturing their attention. Her vibrant strawberry-blonde hair gracefully danced past her shoulders, adding to her captivating presence. “Figure out what?” she asked her voice dripping with a fake perkiness. Stiles was taken aback when his crush suddenly appeared, especially since she decided to sit next to them during lunch. This unexpected encounter made Stiles stumble over their words, feeling nervous and flustered. “Just, uh, homework...” Scott finished for him.

As Lydia's attention was momentarily diverted by a passerby, Stiles took the opportunity to lean in closer and share a hushed conversation with his sun-kissed companion. “Why is she sitting with us?” Scott stared in astonishment at Stiles and nonchalantly shrugged, conveying his ignorance with a simple gesture. In a sudden turn of events, additional individuals began to settle at their respective tables. A prominent member of the lacrosse team confidently claimed the seat at the head of the table, while Danny positioned himself on Stiles' right side. Scott glanced over and noticed Allison gracefully taking her place on his right, prompting a warm smile to grace his face as he swiftly shifted his backpack to make room for her. “Thanks!” Stiles found amusement in the arrival of another girl who took a seat beside him, prompting her to playfully roll her eyes. However, his annoyance was evident as he glanced at Scott, realizing their brainstorming session had been interrupted by the popular kids. In an attempt to avoid the situation, he unintentionally made eye contact with Danny, a fellow lacrosse team member, who responded with an eye roll, as if Stiles was the most tiresome thing, he had encountered all day, which might actually be true. “Get up.” Adding to the complexity of the unfortunate pair, Jackson approached the table and positioned himself next to the unidentified man. With an intense stare, he promptly instructed the man to vacate the premises. “How come you never ask Danny to get up?” the team member asked as he took himself out of the chair. “Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot,” Danny argued reminding the table of his interest in men instead of women.

With a forceful push, Jackson cleared the path and swiftly claimed his seat, leaving Scott with a disapproving frown as he witnessed Jackson's impolite behaviour. However, before any words could be exchanged between them, Danny interjected and initiated a fresh conversation. “So, I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar.” The rude blonde finished shovelling his lunch into his mouth before replying smugly. “I heard mountain lion.” Lydia's gaze fixed on her tray as she broke the silence with an irritated tone. "a cougar is a mountain lion." Jackson and Danny exchanged puzzled glances, taken aback by her unexpected response. Lydia, suddenly aware of the impression she was giving, attempted to backtrack, causing her confidence to waver and her facade to crumble. “...Isn't it?” With a single raised eyebrow and a dismissive scoff, Jackson gulped down his bite, his eyebrow furrowing with scepticism. “Who cares? The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway.” Stiles, engrossed in his phone as he delved into the details of the case, abruptly interjected as new information flooded in. “Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out.” The teenager swiftly grabbed his phone, his captivating brown eyes drawing everyone's attention. He played a video, tilting the phone to share the captivating content with the rest of the group. The video, taken from the local news website, showcased a reporter passionately narrating the latest news story.

“The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack. Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition.”

“Wait, I-I-I know this guy.” Scott's breath caught in his throat as he realized the identity of the man labelled as the victim. “You do?” With a nervous stutter, Alison prayed that the injured man held no significance in her crush's life. “Yeah, when I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver.” A knowing glance passed between Scott and Stiles, just as the popular girl interjected with a tone that oozed both boredom and irritation. “Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please? Like...” Lydia's eyes widened in astonishment as a brilliant idea struck her. Without wasting a moment, she swiftly shifted her attention towards the new girl, completely disregarding Scott who was seated right in the middle of them. “Oh, where are we going tomorrow night?”

Confusion clouded Allison and Scott's faces, revealing their complete lack of understanding. Sensing their bewilderment, Lydia stepped in to provide a clear explanation. “You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow, right?” the brunette eyebrows shot up in surprise as she anxiously swallowed, fully aware of Lydia's impending actions. Desperately, she attempted to act nonchalant, hoping that Lydia would refrain from getting involved. “Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do...” With a remorseful glance, Allison acknowledged her crush, fully aware that Lydia was on the verge of inserting herself and her nasty boyfriend into their plans. Stiles, too, had a sudden realization, evident from the widening of his eyes. As expected, Lydia wasted no time in doing exactly what they had anticipated. “Well, I am not sitting home again, watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun.” Scott stood frozen in disbelief as the unexpected turn of events left him utterly speechless.

“H-H-Hanging out? Like, the four of us?” Allison skilfully masked her frustration as their plans were abruptly interrupted, taking a discreet sip from her water bottle while Scott looked on. “Do you wanna hang out?” Reluctantly, Scott managed to utter the remaining words, visibly despising the concept. Sensing the impending catastrophe, Stiles quickly placed his hand over his mouth to refrain from interrupting. Allison, equally unenthusiastic about the idea as Scott, didn't want to offend her new acquaintance and cautiously responded. “Yeah! ...I guess... Sounds fun...”

Lydia was the only one thrilled about the double date, evident from the irritated look on Jackson's face. He made his frustration known by dramatically lifting his fork in the air. “You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.” Frustrated by his impoliteness, his girlfriend snatched the fork from his grasp, while Stiles, casually sipping from his water bottle, rolled his eyes and gestured animatedly, disapproving of his friend being insulted in such a manner. “How 'bout bowling? You love to bowl.” Unfazed by the captain’s remarks, Lydia brushed them off and carried on with their date preparations as if he hadn't uttered a word. “Yeah, with actual competition.” Allison couldn't help but feel offended for both her and Scott, so she decided to speak up. She made sure to maintain a friendly and competitive tone in her voice, wanting to address the situation differently. “How do you know we're not "actual competition? You can bowl, right?” Scott's desperate desire to avoid being outshined by Jackson or feeling any more inadequate than he already did led him to resort to blatant lies, spoken with all the conviction of a human being. “yeah… In fact, I'm a great bowler.”

As the young wolf pedalled his bike to the animal clinic, he propped it against the brick building and hurriedly entered. Inside, Alan was already in the exam room when Scott arrived, and without wasting a moment, Scott began apologizing for being late. “Sorry, sorry...” he repeated. While busy unpacking boxes on a metal table, Deaton couldn't resist playfully rolling his eyes at the tanned boy, who had a bright smile that lit up the room. “You're all of two minutes late.” In the corner of the room, Scott gently placed his bag on the floor. “I just don't want you to think I'm slacking...” Deaton smiled and scoffed at him in amusement “Scott, I guarantee you, you're one of the least slacking kids in this town. Besides if I needed help (Y/N)s in her office still.” Just as if it were planned, the office door swung open and then closed, revealing the room's owner entering with a cheerful smile and a stack of books in hand. “evening Scott. How was school?” With a simple question, she managed to bring a wide grin of delight to the teenage boy's face, as he basked in the warmth of her presence. “okay for school I guess glad it's over for the day.” With a light giggle, she delicately placed the books on the desk behind the men before swiftly turning back around. “all my friends in New Orleans used to say that school can’t be that bad right?” With a tilt of his head, Scott directed his gaze towards her, his brown eyes filled with confusion. “were you home-schooled?” Curiosity piqued; he inquired about the intriguing young woman who had become the sole topic of conversation for his mother. “I guess you could call it that.” She squeaked turning back round to her books. “Also, before I forget. I'm missing one of my cryptid books has anyone seen it?” Scott's gaze shifted towards the goth woman, who wore a pained expression on her face as she mourned the loss of one of her beloved books. “no sorry I’ll keep an eye out for it.” he promised.

As Scott was organizing things on a back table, he glanced over and spotted Sheriff Stilinski standing by the exam room door, his expression stern and serious. Instantly, a wave of anxiety washed over the teenager, fearing that the officer had discovered his attempt to harm Garrison Myers and had come to apprehend him. Panic set in, causing Scott to gulp nervously. However, to his surprise, Stilinski simply opened the door, his face transforming into a smile as he revealed that he had brought one of the K-9-unit dogs for a routine check-up. His boss confirmed this with a welcoming gesture, putting Scott's worries to rest. “Hey! I see somebody's ready to get their stitches out!” With a joyful expression, (Y/N) gently caressed the pooch, her talon-like nails providing a unique sensation. She showered the dog with affection, allowing it to shower her face with kisses, treating it like a cherished baby.

Deaton hunched down and gently tapped his knees, coaxing the dog to sit obediently, as Stilinski removed his sunglasses and approached the hidden creature with a warm greeting. “Hey there, Scott. You staying out of trouble?” he asked pointing towards the young wolf with a smirk. Stilinski's sudden arrival left him completely surprised. He observed as Deaton gently lifted the German Shepherd, its leg carefully bandaged, and placed it on the table. Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly realized he had been asked a question and responded with a simple nod. “how are you (Y/N)?” With her cheeks covered in dog slobber, he redirected his attention towards (Y/N) and watched as she wiped it away. “better now I've had puppy kisses.” She joked.

Luckily, Noah was too preoccupied with Deaton's evaluation of the dog to pick up on Scott's anxious behaviour. Without a second thought, the man of law shifted his attention towards discussing work with the veterinarian. “Hey, listen, While I'm here, you mind taking a look at those pictures I was telling you about?” Noah extended the brown file to Deaton, gesturing for him to open it. The label on the envelope, marked as evidence, sent a shiver down Scott's spine. “Sacramento still can't determine an animal.” With a hint of uncertainty in his voice, Deaton accepted the envelope and eagerly tore it open, revealing a stack of photographs. As he carefully flipped them upright, his curiosity grew, compelling him to delve into each image. Meanwhile, (Y/N) stared intently at the photos, fully aware of the underlying truth, yet apprehensive about the potential peril that awaited her if she were to disclose it to the sheriff. In a silent exchange, the two workers acknowledged their shared understanding of the situation at hand. “I'm not exactly an expert... Oh, this is the guy who was attacked on the bus?” Deaton asked. “Yeah. And, we found wolf hairs on Laura’s body.”

“A wolf?” the sheriff’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he caught Scott's attention. He turned to face him, only to see Scott's panicked expression, realizing he had unintentionally drawn attention to himself and his potential involvement. “I mean, I think I read somewhere that wolves haven't been in California for, like, sixty years...” Alan, noticing his employee’s reaction, looked up at him with a curious expression, as if he possessed knowledge that Scott was unaware of. “True enough, but wolves are highly migratory. They could have wandered in from another state, driven by impulse or strong enough memory.” (Y/N) informed Scott shocking him with her knowledge. (Y/N) stared directly into the image, envisioning herself being harmed by the creature. She couldn't help but wonder if Beacon Hills was truly the safest place for her. “Wolves have memories?”

“Longer-term memories, yes-- if associated with a primal drive. See this one here?” Stilinski and Scott eagerly leaned in as the vet once again presented the photos. This time, it was a different picture of Myers, lying on a hospital bed. The focus of the image was on his face, revealing deep claw marks that ran vertically from his brow, down the side of his face, past his temple, and onto his cheek. Another set of marks followed the same direction, starting from under his eye and ending at his mouth. Additionally, there was a third gash on the side of his neck, cutting diagonally from under his ear towards his Adam's apple. Noah nodded, acknowledging that he understood what Deaton was trying to convey. “Those are claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat or the spinal cord with its teeth. A wolf could chase down its prey, hobbling it by tearing at the ankles and then the throat...” (Y/N) nodded her head lightly agreeing with Alan’s explanation.

In a sudden rush of memories, Scott relived the previous night when he had completely transformed into a fearsome Werewolf. He vividly remembered how he had reached out and caught hold of Allison's ankle, preventing her from escaping down the aisle towards the bus exit. With a powerful tug, he pulled her back towards him, causing her to scream in terror, mirroring the haunting wounds captured in the photographs before him.

As Scott finished his work for the day, a sense of relief washed over him. He had been working tirelessly, juggling multiple projects, and finally, he could take a break. However, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of his mother, who had been working at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital all day long. Determined to ‘check’ on her and offer some much-needed food, Scott made his way towards the hospital. Little did he know that fate had something unexpected in store for him. As he stepped out of the building, he noticed a familiar figure leaning against a vintage car parked nearby smoking an odd-smelling cigarette. It seemed to be a mixture of sage and something else, but he couldn’t figure out the other smell. "Hey, Scott," (Y/N) greeted him, her voice filled with genuine concern. “I was always heading to the hospital to speak to your mum. Do you want a ride?" she asked stomping her large platform Dr. Martens on the remains of the ciggy. Scott's eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. He hadn't expected anyone to offer him a ride, let alone (Y/N) in her classic car. It was a beautiful vehicle, a symbol of nostalgia and elegance, just like (Y/N) herself. Without hesitation, he nodded, accepting her kind offer. As they made their way towards the car, Scott noticed several boxes neatly stacked in the backseat. Curiosity piqued, he couldn't help but ask, "What's with all the boxes?" he asked hearing the engine start-up. “oh, it's just some stuff for home. gardening stuff and some cat litter.”

The car ride was filled with an air of silence between the two colleagues, with soft music playing in the background. The tunes were a blend of rock and roll and classic hits from the 70s and 80s, unfamiliar to him. However, their journey came to a halt as they approached the hospital, causing her to decelerate and find a parking spot.

As they strolled towards the nurse's station in the ER, both of them wore bright smiles. His mother, who was busy working, couldn't help but burst into laughter when she caught sight of him. Her smile grew even wider when she noticed (Y/N) standing right beside him. “Is my beautiful, talented, and wonderful son actually bringing me dinner and my favourite adopted daughter.” Leaning against the desk, Scott's smile widened as he observed the other nurses recoil in disgust, their eyes burning with fury. Their collective gaze fixated on (Y/N) as if she had just committed an unforgivable act. Sensing their judgment, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel her body tense up with nervousness, causing her to curl inwards. “Thought you wouldn't mind skipping the cafeteria tonight...” he muttered trying to distract himself from the nurses. “You are the most thoughtful, loving...Most conniving little con artist ever.” Unable to contain her amusement, (Y/N) burst into laughter at the sight of his mother's knowing grin. In an instant, his clever scheme crumbled to pieces. “You are so not getting the car tomorrow night. There's a curfew no car.” She sighed placing the bag of food down on the counter before pulling (Y/N) into a tight hug. “so, I was thinking girls night?��

Scott was on the verge of departing through the same route he had entered but abruptly halted as he detected a familiar fragrance, compelling him to reverse his steps. He trailed the scent beyond the nurse's station and down the corridor until he reached the very end, where he discovered the room where Garrison Myers had been admitted. Swiftly and discreetly, he entered the room, ensuring no one caught sight of him. Scott hesitantly drew back the curtain that divided the room, revealing Myers peacefully lying in bed, his eyes shut tight in slumber. The sight of his former bus driver, with his head swathed in bandages and his body marked by wounds, sent a wave of shame and horror crashing over Scott. A clear sign of the severity of the attack, Myers had an IV in his right arm and was receiving oxygen through a nasal cannula. In a hushed tone, he finally found the courage to speak up. “Mr. Myers...? are you okay?” In a matter of seconds, a flicker of recognition crossed his face as he locked eyes with Scott, triggering a sudden surge of panic. His mouth opened, but instead of words, only gasps escaped as he desperately attempted to prop himself up. Frantically, he clutched onto Scott's sleeve, yanking him closer, his distress amplifying with each passing moment. he struggled to break free from his grip, but the situation escalated rapidly as Myers unleashed piercing screams, prompting Melissa to rush into the room. “What the hell are you doing in here? Get out now!”

(Y/N) whisked him away from the hospital and escorted him back to his residence, determined to protect him from any potential harm. "In case of any trouble, he can always rely on me since his mother is extremely concerned," she assured, her voice filled with genuine care and concern. As they manoeuvred into his driveway, Scott let out a deep sigh, feeling the heavy burden of concealing his werewolf identity taking its toll on him.

The weight of his secret was suffocating, and he longed for someone to confide in, someone who could understand the struggles he faced. But the fear of rejection and the potential danger it could bring to his loved ones kept him silent. He knew that revealing his true nature could put not only himself but also those around him in grave danger. If he had it, his way Stiles wouldn’t know either. He worried every day his best friend would get harmed because of him. "I can't confide in anyone," he uttered, his voice laced with frustration and sadness. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air as he slammed the car door, the sound of shattering glass echoing his inner turmoil. The shattered window served as a physical representation of the shattered trust and isolation he felt.

(Y/N) watched him with a mix of sympathy and understanding, her heart aching for the young man who carried such a heavy burden. She muttered under her breath, "Teenagers these days," a small hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She knew all too well the struggles of adolescence and the challenges of keeping secrets. With a final glance at Scott's residence, she drove off to her own abode, her mind filled with thoughts of how she could support him and help him navigate the treacherous path he walked. She knew that being there for him, even if he couldn't confide in her, was a small but significant way to offer him solace and support.

As the car disappeared into the distance, Scott stood in his driveway, the weight of his secret still heavy on his shoulders. But in that moment, he felt a glimmer of hope, knowing that he had someone in his corner, someone who cared enough to whisk him away from the hospital and offer him a safe haven. And perhaps, in time, he would find the strength to confide in someone, to share the burden that threatened to consume him.

Thursday, September 21st

The deputy parked his cruiser near the Hale House ruins and stepped out, taking a moment to survey the surroundings. After a quick visual scan, he reached for his radio and made a call to dispatch. “It looks pretty deserted, dispatch. Did you want me to take a look inside?”

“Unit Sixteen, it's county property. Orders are to make sure it's vacant.” Standing amidst the desolation of the Hale House, the deputy couldn't hide his unease. And he was right to be uncomfortable because he was being watched. “I don't... I don't think anyone's home.” Derek, still a prime suspect in the murder investigation, had taken refuge in the deserted house. His gaze fixated on the officer, his mind racing with anticipation. “For the love of God, Sixteen, go inside and see if anyone's there!” Irritated, the deputy let out a frustrated sigh as he cautiously approached the house. Yet, as soon as he took a step forward, the K-9-unit dog in the backseat erupted into a frenzy of barks, intensifying the deputy's unease. Startled by the sudden noise, he swiftly turned to reprimand the dog. “Don't do that!”

As the deputy approached the house, he couldn't spot Derek standing just behind the window on the second floor due to his angle. Derek, peering outside through the shattered glass, caught a glimpse of the deputy. With his piercing blue Werewolf eyes, he unnerved the dog, causing it to bark louder and more anxiously. It was evident that Derek's presence had intimidated the canine, establishing his dominance in the hierarchy. As the dog's panic escalated, its saliva sprayed across the partially open window, leaving the deputy feeling increasingly unsettled. Determined to uncover the cause of the dog's distress, the deputy searched for any signs of what was alarming it. The dog's anxiety intensified, prompting it to thrust its head out of the rear window. Convinced that he had thoroughly investigated the situation, the deputy reluctantly returned to the car, offering comforting words to the agitated canine. “Okay, I'm coming, I'm coming...”

As the deputy settled into the driver's seat and started the car, the persistent barking of the dog persisted. Derek, who had been observing from a distance, couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and satisfaction as he realized he had successfully avoided being caught squatting in his own home. Just as the car disappeared from view, Derek's attention was drawn to the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned to see Scott emerging from the woods that marked the boundary of the Hale property. The teenager hesitated, his anxiety causing him to fidget from one foot to the other while Derek remained hidden from view. Eventually, Scott grew impatient and took the initiative to break the silence and speak his mind. ”I know you can hear me. I need your help.”

As the rain began to pour, Scott sought shelter on the porch. Finally, Derek emerged from the house, but his silence and blank stare made it clear that Scott would need to put in more effort to get his help. With a sigh, he prepared to persevere. “Okay, I know I was part of you getting arrested... and that we basically announced you being here to the Hunters... I also don't know what happened to your sister...” Scott's words poured out incessantly, but Derek remained stoic, his gaze fixed on Scott without revealing any emotion. “But I think I did something last night. I had a dream about...” he paused briefly, reluctant to reveal his ongoing connection with Allison, but ultimately chose to maintain a guarded demeanour. “Someone... but someone else got hurt. And, it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened-“

“You think you attacked the driver?” Derek interrupted his green eyes empty of any emotion towards the boy. Scott's demeanour shifted to one of disbelief, his expression mirroring his incredulity. “Did you see what I did last night?” It was clear that he suspected Derek of withholding information as if Derek possessed a deeper understanding of the situation than he was willing to reveal. “No.”

“Can you at least tell me the truth? Am I gonna hurt someone?”

“Yes.”

“Could I kill someone?”

“Yes”

“Am I gonna kill someone?”

“Probably”

Scott's face contorted with the weight of his emotions, teetering on the edge of tears, as he slowly made his way towards the edge of the porch. He deliberately kept his back turned to Derek, unable to face the reality of becoming a killer. Observing his struggle, Derek let out a weary sigh, eventually succumbing to a wave of compassion for his wolf brother. “Look, I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control the shift, even on a full moon. But it's not gonna come for free.” Scott's spirits were low, leaving him unable to muster the energy to engage in an argument. Moreover, he found himself unable to meet Derek's gaze, adding to his despondency. “What do you want?”

“You'll find out.” In a momentary pause, Derek collected his thoughts, while Scott's eyes remained locked on the front of the house. “But, for now, I'm gonna give you what you want.” Without turning his body towards Derek, Scott subtly shifted his gaze to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of his orbs. “Go back to the bus. Go inside. See it. Feel it. Let your senses-- your sight, smell, touch. let them remember for you.” Confusion and disbelief etched deep lines on Scott's forehead as he tried to make sense of the situation before him. “That's it? Just-just go back?” With a curious gaze, Derek fixed his eyes on the young wolf. “Do you want to know what happened?” With a vulnerable expression, Scott finally mustered the courage to meet Derek's gaze. “I just want to know if I hurt him.” Derek had an uncanny ability to understand Scott's deepest fears. It was as if he could sense the very same fear that had haunted him years ago. And now, history was repeating itself as Scott found himself terrified of the very same thing. With a knowing glance, Derek confronted him about it, making it clear that he had noticed. ” No, you don't. you want to know if you'll hurt her.”

As darkness enveloped the surroundings, Scott and Stiles arrived at the school in Stiles' trusty Jeep, opting for a secluded route near the woods. Stepping out of the car, Scott motioned for his friend to stay behind, cautioning him to remain at a safe distance. “Hey, no, just me. Someone needs to keep watch.” He spoke sternly scolding the driver like a dog. “How come I'm always the guy keeping watch?” Ignoring Stiles, the werewolf swiftly intervened as he witnessed his friend attempting to scale the chain-link fence separating the parking area from the school bus bay, firmly grasping his shoulder and preventing him from proceeding further. “Because there's only two of us!” With a sudden step back, Stiles descended to the ground level, his finger pointing directly at Scott, his voice filled with accusation. “Okay, why's it starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin?” As Scott cast a frustrated glance his way, Stiles couldn't help but scoff once more, unimpressed by the situation. “I don't want to be Robin all the time!” Scott, feeling just as exasperated, fired back with a response of his own. “Nobody's Batman and Robin any of the time!” Stiles felt a mix of offence and disappointment as the argument came to a close. “Not even some of the time?” With a heavy sigh, Scott issued his last command, his voice filled with authority. “Just stay here.” Stiles let out an exasperated sigh, as if Scott were his father, constantly dictating his every move. “Oh, my God! Fine.”

Stiles made his way back to the Jeep while Scott effortlessly scaled the chain-link fence. As he approached the buses, a wave of unease washed over him, his apprehension evident. It was clear that he was terrified of what awaited him, yet he understood the importance of facing the truth head-on. Pausing briefly, he halted his actions, shut his eyes, and inhaled deeply, seeking solace in his senses, longing for his body to aid in recollecting what his mind had failed to retain. In an instant, a torrent of memories from the previous night flooded his consciousness, engulfing him completely.

The schoolboy found himself lying in bed, his body covered only by his boxers. The distant sound of a wolf's howl pierced through the silence, causing him to grip the blankets tightly before rolling over to the opposite side. As the howling persisted, Scott's restlessness grew, causing him to toss and turn, his face and chest drenched in sweat. Eventually, the mounting tension within him reached its breaking point, and Scott abruptly woke up, his eyes gleaming with a golden hue and his fangs ominously extended.

Scott's eyes snapped open, a jolt of surprise coursing through him. He took a deep breath, desperately trying to regain his composure. As he unclenched his fists, he steeled himself for the next step, his curiosity mingling with fear. Ignoring the crime scene tape, he made his way towards the bus, his determination unwavering. Pausing momentarily, he prepared himself mentally before reaching out to touch the door. Suddenly, a vivid image from his dream last night overwhelmed him, leaving him momentarily stunned.

In his complete Werewolf transformation, Scott forcefully pushed Allison, causing her to collide with the door. The sight of her bloodied forehead and cheek, visible through the glass, sent shivers down her spine as she let out a piercing scream of terror.

The tanned boy stood there, gasping for air, feeling completely overwhelmed by the situation. He hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage before finally reaching out to open the folding door of the bus. Step by step, he ascended the stairs, his movements slow and deliberate. As he reached the top, he turned around, his gaze sweeping down the aisle, taking in the entire length of the bus. Seeking support, he clutched onto the back of a nearby seat, only to be struck by a sudden flashback from his dream, leaving him breathless.

With a complete transformation, Scott swiftly seized the brown brown-haired girl's ankle and forcefully pulled her towards the rear of the bus, causing her to scream in terror.

Scott's heart raced with horror as he found himself trapped in a relentless cycle of shifting between reality and his haunting dream, only to discover that even his dream was plagued by the unsettling echoes of what truly occurred.

With a relentless grip, the creature resembling Scott kept dragging Allison down the aisle, her cries echoing through the air. In the midst of Allison's piercing scream, another scream echoed through the air, this time from a man. The scene shifted in memory, replaying the same intense moment, but this time it was Garrison Myers who found himself being forcefully dragged by his ankle, not Allison.

Scott's face twisted in disbelief as the full sequence of events from the previous night unravelled in his mind. The realization that he had brutally killed Garrison Myers hit him like a ton of bricks, leaving him horrified. He released his grip on the seat and proceeded to walk down the aisle, his steps slow and heavy. The sight of blood-splattered seats ahead only intensified his shock.

In Scott's mind, he revisited his dream, reliving the moment when he underwent a complete transformation. With immense strength, he tore out a seat from the back of the bus and hurled it in the direction of his crush, who desperately sought an escape through the front door.

The teenager was overwhelmed by the intensity of the flashback, causing him to instinctively shield his face with his hands and flinch as if the seat were actually hurtling towards him. He let out a gasp, his breaths coming in short bursts as he struggled to regain composure. Gradually, he realized that it was merely a flashback and slowly lowered his arms, his heart still racing. With a cautious step, he began to walk down the aisle, his eyes darting around to absorb every visual detail, from the mist forming on the windows to the stains of blood on the seats. As he glanced down at the floor, he was abruptly pulled back into another flashback, this time reliving the actual events that had taken place.

Mr. Myers found himself sprawled on the floor of the bus; his body positioned in an unconventional manner. His head pointed towards the front while his feet stretched towards the back. Desperately clutching onto the bar securing the nearby seat, he extended his right hand towards Scott, pleading for assistance, his cries echoing through the air. As the true sequence of events unfolded, Scott extended his hand towards Myers, desperately hoping to offer him assistance while he cried out in distress.

The brown-eyed wolf's gaze lifted, only to meet the terrifying sight of the monstrous Werewolf that had inflicted the bite on him. With a menacing growl, the creature raised its clawed hand high in the air before swiftly slashing at Scott's chest, leaving a deep gash. Scott let out a sharp breath, his hand instinctively reaching for his chest as if to halt the flow of blood. It took him a moment to realize that the pain he felt was a lingering reminder from the previous evening's injury and not a fresh wound.

The robin of the group sat in the driver's seat of his Jeep outside the chain-link fence, nervously rubbing his head and leaning on his left hand. With (Y/N)'s book in his lap, he noticed headlights flashing across the parking lot. Without hesitation, he honked the horn loudly to alert Scott, realizing they had to leave quickly to avoid being caught.

The werewolf, his mind reeling from the shocking revelation, realized that he wasn't the one responsible for the attack. Instead, he had been trying to shield Myers from the true assailant. Doubtful, he glanced down at his chest once more to ensure he hadn't sustained any injuries. Suddenly, the blaring sound of a honking horn startled him, causing him to jump in surprise. In a frenzy, he spun around and sprinted down the bus aisle, swiftly exiting through the front door and effortlessly leaping over the crime scene tape. Using a red SUV as his launching pad, he gracefully flipped over the chain-link fence, resembling a nimble gymnast. As he landed, he executed a graceful somersault before dashing towards Stiles' Jeep. Inside, his human friend anxiously drummed his hands on the steering wheel while muttering to himself. “Come on! Come on!” stiles mumbled.

As Stiles inserted his key into the ignition, Scott swiftly flung open the passenger door and hopped in, his voice filled with urgency as he commanded Stiles to flee the scene immediately. “Go! Go! Go! Go!” With a forceful press on the gas pedal, Stiles sent the car hurtling backwards along the familiar road, only to abruptly slam on the brakes moments later and execute a thrilling spin at the crossroads. “Did it work? Did you remember?” Zooming away from the school, the human glanced at Scott. With his right arm hanging out the window, he tightly clutched the Jeep's roof to secure himself in the seat, as there was no time to fasten his seatbelt. “Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood? A lot of it was mine. I-I-I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek.”

Scott's gaze narrowed, his brow furrowing as he attempted to piece together the fragments of what he had just witnessed. “What about the driver?” the Adderall addict asked. “I think I was actually trying to protect him.” Stiles briefly contemplated the situation, but it didn't take long for him to spot a flaw in Scott's argument, resulting in a disapproving expression on his mole-infested face. “Wait…why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the driver?” Frustration etched on Scott's face as he shook his head, unable to provide a solution. “That's what I don't get.”

“It's gotta be a pack thing.” With a leather-bound book in hand, Stiles caught the wolf's attention as the familiar spine, adorned with moons, made the wolf furrowed his brows. “check the book for me?” stiles asked. “this is (Y/N) why did you steal it?” With a hesitant start, he began flipping through the pages of the book, searching for the vibrant sticky notes that his friend had a reputation for employing excessively. “somethings wrong with her Scott. I've been trying to read this, and every single thing has been correct.” As Scott perused the pages of the book, he couldn't help but notice the dreadful spelling, yet he was captivated by the exquisite illustrations showcasing a variety of wolf eye colours and the enchanting allure of wolfsbane and fangs. “There is no way she doesn’t know werewolves exist. She got to be involved with the hunters.” The two teens slowly looked at each other with worry. “and she’s friends with our parents…” Scott muttered. “don’t worry about it for now. Just go on your date and enjoy the night.” Things couldn’t get worse.

Derek arrived at the gas station in his sleek black Camaro, ready to refuel. As he stepped out of the car, he couldn't help but notice the tranquillity that enveloped the night. The only sounds that broke the silence were the rhythmic blinking lights and the gentle hum of the pump. The gas station, nestled on the outskirts of town, seemed like an oasis of calm amidst the chaos of everyday life. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it a hint of gasoline and the faint scent of freshly cut grass. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the surroundings, and illuminating the rows of neatly lined fuel pumps.

Derek took a moment to appreciate the stillness, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. It was a rare moment of solitude in a world that never seemed to stop moving. The blinking lights, like tiny stars, seemed to guide him towards the pump, their steady rhythm creating a hypnotic effect. As he reached for the fuel nozzle, he marvelled at the simplicity of the scene. The gentle hum of the pump provided a soothing background melody as if nature itself had composed a symphony for this quiet moment. The sound seemed to blend seamlessly with the distant chirping of crickets, creating a harmonious chorus that echoed through the night.

As he glanced up from refilling his car tank, the sun's rays glinting off the metal, he heard the distinct sound of another vehicle entering the gas station. The familiar rumble of an engine caught his attention, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the peach-coloured car pulling in. It was a car he recognized all too well, one that belonged to the person he referred to as "Y/N." Without acknowledging his presence, Y/N headed straight to the shop, her steps heavy and burdened. He couldn't help but notice the weariness in her movements, the weight of the world seemingly resting on her shoulders. A wave of sadness emanated from her, palpable even from a distance, causing his heart to ache in empathy.

His attention shifted to her car, parked haphazardly near the gas pump. His eyes widened as he noticed a shattered window, shards of glass glinting in the sunlight. Fear gripped him tightly, squeezing his chest as he considered the possibilities. Had the alpha finally caught her, Or had Scott done something to her, causing this destruction? Anger began to consume him, a fiery rage that clouded his thoughts and fuelled his determination. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he imagined the pain Y/N must have endured. How dare anyone lay a hand on her, how dare they cause her such distress? The protective instincts within him surged forward, overpowering any rationality that remained.

Without a second thought, he abandoned the gas pump, leaving his own car behind as he stormed towards the shop. The sound of his footsteps echoed in his ears, matching the pounding of his heart. He pushed open the door, the bell above chiming in protest, and his eyes locked on Y/N, who stood near the counter, her face etched with a mixture of exhaustion and vulnerability. His voice, laced with a controlled fury, cut through the air, demanding answers. "What happened, Y/N? Who did this to you?" His words hung heavy in the tense atmosphere, his gaze never leaving her as he awaited her response. With a smile directed at the cashier, she made her purchase of a lighter, rolling papers, and a petite bottle of vodka, trying hard to ignore the male behind her.

The ebony-haired man’s heart sank as he watched (Y/N) walk away, the silence echoing in his wolf ears. He stood there, clutching his jacket, feeling the weight of his mistakes. He had let her down, not only by standing her up on their date but also by failing to protect her from the unknown vandal. Regret washed over him, and he knew he had to make things right. Desperation consumed Derek as he watched (Y/N) retreat further. He knew he couldn't let her go like this, not when their relationship meant so much to him. With a newfound determination, he sprinted after her, his voice filled with sincerity as he called out her name. "(Y/N), please, just hear me out," Derek pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I can't change that, but I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you. There was a reason I couldn't make it to our date, and I promise it's a good one."

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, her back still turned to the man she had grown to yearn for. She hesitated for a moment, torn between her pain and the lingering love she felt for him. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes filled with a mix of anger, hurt, and curiosity. “I don’t care. If you really were sorry, you would have texted or called. I heard nothing" she grumbled, her voice dripping with frustration and exhaustion. The weight of their new relationship had become unbearable, and she could no longer pretend to be invested in their once-blossoming love affair. With a heavy sigh, she dropped his black leather jacket into his hands, the cold fabric slipping through her fingers like a lost connection. The jacket, once a symbol of their intertwined lives, now felt foreign and distant, mirroring the growing distance between them. "I just need some space," she stuttered under her breath, as she hopped into her car and sped off leaving a dust cloud in her space.

Derek persisted in refuelling his vehicle, attempting to appear unaffected, but his vigilance was evident as another car approached. The hunters, who had recently encircled him, kept him restrained near the gas pump. Positioned before him was Chris Argent, while two additional hunters leaned casually against the silver SUV behind him. After a brief pause, Derek detached the pump from his gas tank and secured it back in its place, sealing the lid. It was at this moment that Argent chose to initiate their conversation. “nice ride. Black cars through very hard to keep clean.” Argent strolled confidently towards him, gliding his fingers along the sleek surface of Derek's Camaro. With a deliberate gesture, he extended his hand and effortlessly wiped away an imaginary mark on the hood, a clear attempt to unnerve Derek. “I would suggest a little more maintenance.”

Derek observed Argent intently, his face devoid of any emotion, as he approached the gas pump and swiftly picked up the free windshield wiper cleaner and squeegee. With a flick of his wrist, he removed the excess cleaning fluid from it, displaying his efficiency. “If you have something this nice, you want to take care of it, right?” With a mischievous grin, the hunter diligently wiped away the frost from Derek's windshield, all the while maintaining a casual conversation that carried a subtle undertone of menace. “Personally... I'm very protective of the things I love. But that's something I learned from my family. ...And you don't have much of that these days...do you?” Derek's black leather jacket concealed his clenched left hand, catching Argent's attention. The Hunter observed Derek, anticipating a confrontation, but to his surprise, Derek gradually unclenched his fist, revealing his ordinary human nails. Derek managed to keep his inner wolf under control effortlessly. Chris nodded in satisfaction, relieved that the situation didn't escalate, and calmly placed the squeegee back in its holder.

“There we go. You can actually look through your windshield now. See how that makes everything so much clearer?” The hunter's disingenuous grin transformed into a menacing smirk, as he locked eyes with Derek for an extended period. Satisfied that his message had been effectively conveyed, he pivoted and made his way towards his vehicle, with the rest of the Hunters trailing behind. Nevertheless, Derek, unable to resist, finally interjected with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “You forgot to check the oil.” With a sudden halt, Argent ceased his stride, his back deliberately facing Derek. A mischievous grin spread across his face, relishing in the satisfaction of successfully affecting Derek. Slowly, he pivoted around, directing a subtle nod towards one of his fellow Hunters, a cunning smirk etched onto his rugged features.

“Check the man's oil.” Reluctantly, the smaller of the two Hunters made his way towards Derek's car, while Derek observed his every move with keen interest. Surprisingly, instead of circling around the front of the vehicle to inspect the engine, the Hunter halted at the driver's side door and discreetly retrieved a concealed semi-automatic gun from his side. Without hesitation, he used the butt of the weapon to shatter the window, glancing towards Chris for a nod of approval. “looks good to me.” As Argent made his way towards his SUV, he and his team of Hunters departed in their own vehicles. Derek clenched his teeth in frustration as he glared at the shattered glass surrounding his car.

As the rain poured and thunder rumbled, Derek reached the hospital with one goal in mind: finding Garrison. Determined to uncover the truth about the alpha, he was willing to go to any lengths, even if it meant exploiting an injured civilian. His motivation stemmed from his deep love for his family, his sister, and (Y/N). The bus driver's lifeless body lay serenely on the sterile bed until the silhouette of a wolf cast a haunting shadow upon the pristine white blanket. “open your eyes.” He ordered. But nothing happened. “open your eyes.” Myers reluctantly obeyed, emitting a deep growl. The agony etched on his battered face intensified as the wounds around his eyes became more pronounced, forming a web of creases and dark circles. “What do you remember?” Myers appeared to have a sense of familiarity towards him, as memories of his piercing forest green eyes flooded his thoughts. In a feeble attempt, he desperately uttered his last name, as if it held some significant meaning.

“How do you know my name?” Derek barked with rage. “I'm sorry... I'm sorry.” Myers reclined on his pillow while the wolf struggled to comprehend the discussion. Abruptly, a blaring alarm erupted from the telemetry monitoring system, prompting Melissa to investigate before urgently summoning the nurse. Derek had mysteriously vanished from the room, realizing that his sole witness was now deceased and of no value. Melissa hurriedly entered the room and was taken aback with disbelief upon witnessing Myers lifeless in bed, his telemetry showing a flatline. Rose, call a code! Room one-thirty-seven!

Derek's heart pounded in his chest as he raced through the dense foliage of the preserve. The branches whipped against his face, leaving small scratches in their wake, but he paid no mind to the stinging pain. They would heal in minutes. His mind was solely focused on finding (Y/N), ensuring her safety, and making amends for the chaos he had inadvertently unleashed. The moon cast an eerie glow through the canopy above, illuminating the path ahead. Derek's heightened senses allowed him to navigate the winding trails with ease, his footsteps barely making a sound as he moved with the grace of a predator. The scent of wolfsbane grew stronger with each passing moment, a reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. As he sprinted, memories of the gas station incident replayed in his mind. The panic that had consumed him when he realized the potential harm he had caused to (Y/N) and those around her. The guilt that gnawed at his conscience, knowing that his actions had put her in harm's way. He couldn't bear the thought of her suffering because of him.

As the thunder grew louder, Y/N stepped out of her car onto the meadow, her heart pounding with excitement. The dark clouds loomed overhead, casting an eerie shadow over the landscape. Ignoring the ominous atmosphere, she carefully poured vodka into four jars, each one representing a different direction. She had heard tales of the power of storms, how they could cleanse and rejuvenate, and she was determined to harness that energy. Sitting on the damp grass, she positioned the jars in a circle around her, their contents shimmering in the fading light. The air was heavy with anticipation, and she could feel the electricity building in the atmosphere. As the first droplets of rain began to fall, she closed her eyes, allowing the cool sensation to wash over her like a chilling halo.

The rain intensified, drenching her and the surrounding meadow. The sound of the downpour drowned out all other noise, creating a symphony of nature's fury. Y/N's senses heightened, her body tingling with the raw power of the storm. She could feel the energy crackling in the air, charging the very molecules around her. Finally, the rumbling sounds reached the field, shaking the ground beneath her. The thunder roared like a beast, its voice echoing through the vast expanse. A smile of pure joy spread across Y/N's face as she felt the storm's might. It was as if the heavens had opened up, granting her access to a realm of untamed energy.

Derek couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern as he watched the soaked woman move with an almost ethereal grace. Her movements were deliberate and purposeful as if she knew exactly what she was doing. As she positioned each jar at a corner of the territory, Derek's mind raced with questions. What was the significance of these containers? And why was she placing strands of her hair inside each one? It was a peculiar sight, one that left Derek with a sense of unease. He had known the woman to be mysterious, but this was a whole new level. Without wasting a moment, she arrived at her home with remarkable swiftness, only to immediately turn around and depart once more, leaving the jars untouched as she raced along the newly moistened road towards the town.

Melissa, worn out and in her cosy pyjamas, trudged wearily down the hallway towards Scott's bedroom. Even before she reached the door, she called out to him, her voice filled with exhaustion. “hey (Y/N)s coming over for a wine and dine night.” She mumbled clearly upset over something. As she stepped into the doorway, her gaze fell upon Scott's room, which was shrouded in darkness and devoid of any presence. The half-open bedroom window added to the eerie atmosphere. Melissa couldn't help but let out a sigh, disappointed that Scott had missed the curfew imposed on the entire town. However, she quickly composed herself, shaking her head in resignation, and made her way back to her own bedroom. All the while, she muttered softly under her breath, expressing her frustration.

Just as she was about to enter her bedroom, a loud thud echoed from Scott's room, causing her to freeze in her tracks. Startled, she turned her head towards the noise and was unsettled by the window rattling open and shut. Cautiously, she retreated back into her room, snatching a baseball bat and positioning herself just inside the doorway. Her heart raced as she witnessed a figure rolling onto Scott's bed from the window. Ready to strike, the brunette hesitated as the figure suddenly stood up and called out. “WHOA! OH, NO, NO, NO!.” finally realising it was her son's idiot friend and lowered the wooden weapon. “Stiles, what are you doing here?” Stiles' voice is just as exasperated, as though Melissa is the one in the wrong here, especially when he remembers that Scott almost did the exact same thing to him with the bat Scott tried to kill him with. “What am I doing? God, do either of you even play baseball?”

In an instant, the room was illuminated as the light switched on, exposing Scott's return. Without a moment's hesitation, Melissa swiftly redirected her attention towards him, unleashing a frustrated scolding. “Can you please tell your friend to use the front door?”

“But we lock the front door. He wouldn't be able to get in.” She let out a heavy sigh before swiftly exiting the room, muttering under her breath. “(Y/N)s coming over don’t be little shits for an hour or two I beg you.” As Scott's gaze shifted towards his friend, he couldn't help but notice the gravity etched on his friend's face. Concerned, he swiftly inquired about it, furrowing his brows and pulling his desk chair closer to engage in a face-to-face conversation. “My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago... It's the bus driver. “They said he "succumbed to his wounds." The young wolf’s gaze met Stiles with a questioning expression, prompting the latter to carry on with his thoughts. “Scott, he's dead.” Scott's eyes grew wider, a gasp escaping his lips as shock coursed through him. With the limited information he had, he began piecing together a mental image, connecting the dots to form a clearer picture. Scott burst into the Hale House, convinced that the older wolf was responsible for the attack on Garrison Myers. Ignoring (Y/N) who held a wine bottle tightly, he urgently called out for Derek. But it was too late, Scott was already racing down the street. “Scott!”

As the night progressed, Y/N discovered themselves engaged in lively conversation with Melissa, their laughter resonating throughout the room. Amid the cheerful atmosphere, Stiles quickly formulated a plan. "Hey, Mel, mind showing me the way to your bathroom?" The mysterious woman inquired. Concealed behind a nearby wall, the teenager listened intently, their heart racing at the faint sound of her footsteps on the creaking floorboards. Filled with a sudden rush of anxiety, Stiles swiftly moved to intercept her near the bathroom, his eyes revealing his unease. "Listen, you captivating goth," the nervous boy stammered, trembling with fear, as she raised an eyebrow, revealing her dark, smoky eyes and perfectly winged eyeliner. "I know you're hiding something from me, and you can't deny it because I've read your book."

As the thunder roared around the house, she forcefully pushed Stiles against the wall, surprising him with her hidden strength. "Listen up, Stiles. I don't want to cause you any harm, but you've messed with the wrong girl, kid. Now, hand over the book if you know what's good for you." Stiles quickly nodded in agreement as she gradually released her grip. Filled with anger, she stomped her way back downstairs, and the rage slowly subsided inside once again.

“Derek! I know you're here! I know what you did!” Hidden from view, Derek's serene voice reverberated through the desolate remains, creating an eerie atmosphere in the darkness. “I didn't do anything.” Sceptical of Derek's claims, Scott cautiously approached the charred staircase, determined to locate his hiding spot within the dilapidated house. “You killed him!” Derek remained hidden, yet his responses to him persisted, though now tinged with a growing impatience in his tone. “he died.” Despite Scott's continuous effort to locate Derek, his newfound powers were not yet up to par. “Like your sister died?” As he ascended the steps, drenched in sweat from the strenuous bike ride to the house, he cleverly engaged in conversation, hoping to uncover any clue about Derek's whereabouts. “My sister was missing. I came here looking for her.”

“You found her.” Scott approached the final steps, his senses heightened, alert for any sign of movement from Derek. Derek, overwhelmed by anger, unleashed a piercing yell, clearly tormented by the subject of their discussion. “I found her in pieces! Being used as bait to catch me.”

“I think you killed them both. I'm gonna tell everyone, starting with the Sheriff.” Scott triumphantly ascended the staircase, only to realize at the eleventh hour that Derek had been silently trailing him on the opposite side. In a sudden twist of events, Derek materialized behind him, forcefully gripping his shoulders and unceremoniously hurling him down the stairs. With a sinister grin, Derek stood at the summit while Scott tumbled down, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground floor.

Scott's feeble attempt at a roar prompted the elder Werewolf to bound down the staircase, disregarding each step and effortlessly landing beside the teenager. Before Derek could even respond, Scott seized him by the front of his leather jacket and forcefully propelled him through the charred remnants of the wall, sending him crashing into a heap of shattered wood and drywall. “Huh.”

As Derek regained his composure, he forcefully expelled the drywall dust from his mouth and brushed off the debris that had settled on him. Rising to his feet, he shook his jacket to remove any lingering particles, all the while feeling a sense of begrudging admiration for Scott's audacity. However, what truly bothered him was the fact that the impact had washed away the lingering scent of (Y/N), leaving it intermingled with the unpleasant odours of mildew, mould, and dust. “That was cute.”

Derek casually discarded his jacket, exposing a simple Gray t-shirt. He strolled towards the former foyer of the house, passing a door adorned with a stained-glass window. Through the window, Scott caught a glimpse of Derek as he stretched his head and neck, undergoing his inaugural transformation in front of the audience. The audible crunch of bones accompanied his progress until he successfully crossed the threshold, now fully transformed into a formidable Werewolf. Derek's appearance underwent a remarkable transformation. His once bare skin was now adorned with a dense growth of hair, framing his eyebrows and accentuating his chiselled chin. Moreover, his jawline had become even more defined, perfectly accommodating his four newly grown, intimidating fangs. As if that wasn't enough, his hands had also undergone a drastic change. They were now rough and large, housing ten formidable claws that possessed the power to slice through anything, provided he exerted enough force. With his once green eyes now radiating a vibrant blue hue, he proudly reveals his menacing fangs, prepared to engage in a proper showdown with Scott.

With a swift jump, Scott propelled himself through the gap created by Derek's flight through the wall. The tension between them was palpable as they cautiously circled each other, both anticipating the other's next move. Derek's low growl persisted, adding an extra layer of intensity to the standoff. With a thunderous roar, Scott charged at Derek, but this time Derek's lightning-fast reflexes allowed him to seize Scott by the shirt and forcefully slam him against the wall. In one swift motion, Derek flung Scott aside, causing him to somersault over the coffee table and land in a crouched stance. Despite growling softly, Scott managed to evade Derek's pounce, skilfully rolling to the side just in time to avoid being pinned down.

As they rose to their feet, both of them exchanged blows, but Derek eventually pushed his opponent across the room, causing him to fall flat on his back. Derek then stood in a hunched-over stance while Scott struggled to get up, using the coffee table for support. In response, Derek let out a fierce growl. With lightning speed, Derek sprinted towards the coffee table, transforming it into his impromptu shield. He launched a powerful kick, propelling his feet into Scott's chest, and sending him hurtling backwards. Undeterred, Scott swiftly regained his footing, while Derek unleashed another kick, this time aiming at the wall. As Scott grabbed a nearby wooden beam, the battle escalated to a whole new level. With a forceful strike, he made contact with Derek, causing him to tumble backwards and roll across the ground. As Scott swiftly approached, wielding the beam like a baseball bat, Derek managed to evade a blow to his face by rolling to the side. Seizing the opportunity, Derek swiftly rose to his knees and delivered a powerful strike to the back of Scott's knees, sending him sprawling and crashing onto the hard ground.

Derek was sent tumbling backwards and rolling across the ground after a powerful strike from Scott. As Scott advanced with the beam, ready to swing like a baseball bat, Derek skillfully avoided a blow to his face by rolling to the side. Taking advantage of the opening, Derek quickly got up on his knees and delivered a strong strike to the back of Scott's knees, causing him to crash onto the hard ground. Scott's agony echoed through the room as he stumbled towards the couch, his hands gripping it for support. The pain seemed to force him to retreat, his body trembling with each step. Meanwhile, Derek stood behind him, his back turned, and twisted his neck, the sound of bones cracking filling the air as he transformed back into his powerful human form. Scott's eyes met Derek's, revealing a profound sense of betrayal etched on his face. Exhausted from the relentless fight and weary of their arguments, Derek finally broke the silence with a heavy sigh, setting the truth straight once and for all. “I didn't kill him. Neither of us did. It's not your fault, and it's not mine.”

Scott's anger intensified as the words reached his ears, fuelling his fury. Determined, he rose to his feet and confronted the person, his voice filled with disbelief and booming with intensity. “This? This is all your fault! You ruined my life!”

“No, I didn't.”

“You're the one that bit me!”

“No, I'm not.”

Shock coursed through Scott's veins as he absorbed the unexpected revelation, causing his eyes to widen in disbelief. Frantically, he scanned his surroundings, trying to process the overwhelming information. His gaze shifted downwards, landing on his chest where he noticed a series of shallow claw marks. Tentatively, he reached out and touched them, feeling a shiver run down his spine as the sight of blood on his fingertips triggered a haunting memory from the previous night.

As Scott neared the bus, his peripheral vision tinged with a crimson hue, courtesy of his enhanced Werewolf sight. Inside the bus, a terrifying wolf-like creature was viciously assaulting Garrison Myers, who cried out in terror. Desperate for help, Myers extended his trembling hand towards Scott, praying for salvation. However, as Scott attempted to intervene, the colossal Werewolf slashed him across the chest, reminiscent of the painful wounds he had sustained in the demolished hale house, but this time the injury ran even deeper.

“...There's another.” Scott's gaze shifted to his crimson-stained fingertips, observing the wounds on his chest that had miraculously begun to mend. At that moment, a sudden realization struck him, leaving him so astounded that he sank into the couch, gasping for air. “It's called an Alpha. It's the most dangerous of our kind. You and I? We're Betas. This thing is more powerful, more animal than either of us. My sister came here looking for him. Now I'm trying to find him. But, I don't think I can do it without you.”

“Why me?”

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s0urw00lf · 2 years ago

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Guys I’m so sorry I’ve been so inactive… I have no excuse for it but I will resume shortly… Anywho which should I update first, poll below

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #teen wolf x reader #derek hale #scott mccall #derek hale x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #s0urw00lf #scott mccall x reader #x reader #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #twilight #alice cullen #rosalie cullen #jacob black x reader #tyler hoechlin #tyler hoechlin x reader

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dreamersworldduh · 3 months ago

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ALL YOURS

• DEREK HALE x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Derek's love for you is fierce, unrelenting, and deeply passionate, even when his heat takes control. While his primal instincts may amplify his need for you, his love and care remain constant. In these moments, you see every side of him—the lover, the protector, the alpha, and the vulnerable man who trusts you completely. His passion burns with intensity, but it's rooted in tenderness and trust, making you his anchor and the one he loves unconditionally. Despite his raw, wild instincts, Derek's love always shines through, grounding both of you in an unbreakable bond.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 11.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Hi! Just wanted to say the lack of Derek Hale fics is criminal, the man is so goddamn fineeee and such an fucking alpha…ughhhh. Anywho —happy reading😉✨

Being the boyfriend of Derek Hale is anything but simple—it's a challenge, a test of patience, loyalty, and resilience. Derek isn't just your average guy; he's a brooding, fiercely protective werewolf with a past heavy enough to weigh down even the strongest of hearts. Being with him means you've faced your fair share of danger, heartbreak, and intense moments that have pushed you to your limits, both emotionally and physically. It's not just about enduring the supernatural chaos that seems to follow him like a shadow; it's also about navigating his deeply rooted possessive instincts—a part of him that can be as intimidating as it is endearing.

Derek's possessiveness isn't something to be taken lightly. It's a primal, instinctive part of him, born from years of loss and betrayal, making him hyperaware of anything that threatens his loved ones. You've seen that fiery gleam in his eyes when someone so much as looks at you the wrong way or steps too close for his comfort. His protectiveness borders on territorial at times, as though his wolf senses are constantly on high alert, ensuring you're safe, no matter the cost. He's not afraid to stake his claim—not in a controlling way, but in a way that lets the world know that you are his, and no one else's.

Being with Derek means navigating these intense emotions. You've had to learn how to reassure him, to remind him that you're not going anywhere, even when his insecurities surface. It means being patient when his past haunts him, and understanding when his walls go up, knowing that beneath that tough exterior lies a heart that loves fiercely, but has been hurt too many times to count. His loyalty to you is unwavering, but it's a loyalty that demands the same in return.

And yet, despite the challenges, being Derek Hale's partner comes with its own kind of magic. His love may be intense, but it's also genuine, powerful, and raw. He loves with his entire being, protecting you as if you're the most precious thing in his world. You've endured the trials that come with loving a man like him, but you've also been rewarded with moments of vulnerability and tenderness that only you get to see—the way he softens when he looks at you, or the rare, small smile that lights up his face when he feels at peace.

Yes, being Derek Hale's boyfriend is no easy task, but it's a journey you've embraced wholeheartedly, knowing that the love he offers is as wild, untamed, and enduring as the wolf inside him.

Though there are two distinct sides to Derek's possessiveness, this moment reveals the softer, sweeter version of it—the one that makes your heart flutter and reminds you how deeply he cherishes you. It happens during a pack meeting at the newly restored Hale House, a gathering that feels more like a family dinner than a formal strategy session. The house, once a ruin, now stands tall again, filled with laughter, chatter, and the comforting scent of home. You've taken it upon yourself to help serve food to the pack members, moving gracefully around the room, offering plates and making sure everyone is settled.

Derek is at the head of the long dining table, his usual brooding demeanor softened just slightly by the warmth of the atmosphere. He watches you like a hawk as you move from one person to the next, his gaze unwavering. You can feel the weight of his attention, a mix of pride and something undeniably territorial. No one says a word about it, but the rest of the pack knows better than to comment—this is just Derek being Derek.

Finally, when everything is in place and everyone has been served, you grab a plate for yourself and look for an open seat. Before you can take a single step toward a chair, a strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back gently but firmly. You glance down and meet Derek's intense gaze as he tugs you closer without a word. Before you know it, he has you settled in his lap, one arm snaking around your waist to keep you in place, as if daring anyone to suggest you belong anywhere else.

"Derek," you murmur, leaning in close so only he can hear. Your tone is a mix of amusement and exasperation. "This is your meeting. You're supposed to be leading it, not—"

"I don't care," he interrupts, his voice low and gravelly, but there's a softness in his eyes that betrays the intensity of his words. His hold on you tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he isn't letting go. "Stay here."

The pack continues their discussions, wisely ignoring the alpha's clear claim on you. You can feel his warmth radiating through his shirt, his hand resting protectively on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Despite the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, you can't help but relax against him. Derek, for all his gruffness, has a way of making you feel like the center of his world in moments like this.

You sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're impossible."

"And you're mine," he replies, his tone quiet but filled with conviction, his lips brushing lightly against the side of your temple.

Though it's a little distracting for the rest of the pack, no one dares to question it. This softer, possessive side of Derek might be less intimidating than his fiercer moments, but it's no less powerful. It's his way of showing the world—and you—that you're not just someone he loves. You're someone he can't bear to let go of, even for a moment.

Then there's the other side of Derek's possessiveness—the version that's intense, commanding, and impossible to miss. It's the side that comes out when someone steps over a line they should've never approached in the first place. Tonight, that line is crossed while you're working your shift at the bar, doing the job you insisted on keeping despite Derek's protests.

"Let me take care of you," he's said countless times, his low, gruff voice almost pleading. But as much as you love him, you're too independent to let him shoulder your financial responsibilities. Bartending may not be glamorous, but it's your job, and you're proud of the work you do. Derek respects that—most of the time. But tonight, his patience is about to be tested.

It's a busy evening. Music hums through the air, mingling with the chatter of customers and the clinking of glasses as you pour drinks and banter with the regulars. Most of the people here know exactly who you're dating. They've seen the mark on your neck—Derek's love bite, dark and unmistakable, a territorial claim he left with purpose. The regulars don't bother you; they know better than to risk Derek Hale's wrath.

But tonight, trouble doesn't come from a regular. It comes from someone new—a man sitting at the bar, nursing a drink and watching you with a cocky smirk that instantly sets you on edge. At first, you try to brush off his attention. You're polite, professional, and quick to redirect the conversation, but he doesn't take the hint.

"Come on," he says, leaning across the bar, his voice dripping with confidence. "You can't tell me you're not single. A guy like you? Working here? Bet you get all kinds of offers."

You force a tight smile. "I'm not available," you say, your tone firm but not aggressive.

He doesn't back down. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're waiting around for some guy who isn't even here. What kind of boyfriend lets you work a place like this anyway?"

You feel a flicker of irritation, but before you can respond, the air in the room shifts. It's subtle at first—a strange hush that falls over the nearby patrons, followed by a wave of tension that seems to ripple through the bar. You don't have to look to know what's causing it. Derek is here.

You glance toward the entrance just as Derek steps through the door, his presence commanding attention even in the crowded room. He's dressed simply, but there's an edge to his movements, a barely restrained energy that makes everyone instinctively give him space. His sharp green eyes lock onto you immediately, scanning the scene and landing on the man leaning too close to your side of the bar.

Derek doesn't break stride as he approaches, his gaze narrowing. The man notices him too late, straightening up but not yet realizing the mistake he's made.

"Something wrong here?" Derek's voice is calm, low, and steady, but it carries a weight that silences the nearby conversation.

The guy tries to play it off, oblivious to the storm he's just invited. "No problem. Just talking to your... friend here."

Derek's lips twitch into a faint, humorless smirk as he steps closer, resting his hands on the bar. "He's not just my friend," Derek says, his voice dropping into a tone so cold it could freeze the room. "He's mine."

The guy blinks, clearly caught off guard but still trying to save face. "Hey, no offense. I didn't know—"

"You do now." Derek cuts him off, his gaze never leaving the man's. The unspoken threat lingers heavy in the air, and the guy shifts uncomfortably, glancing around as if searching for an escape. Derek doesn't move, doesn't need to. His sheer presence is enough to make the man mumble a quick apology before slinking away, disappearing into the crowd.

Once the intruder is gone, Derek's attention shifts to you. The tension in his jaw softens as he reaches across the bar, his large hand sliding against your wrist, pulling you closer. His eyes flick briefly to the mark on your neck as if to reassure himself it's still there.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, his tone softer now but still laced with that protective edge.

"I had it under control," you say, though the slight smirk on your lips betrays the rush of affection you feel in the moment.

Derek raises an eyebrow, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "Sure you did."

You shake your head, leaning in just enough so only he can hear you. "You know I can have claws?"

"I know, but you don't have to use them when I'm around," he replies without hesitation, his voice steady and full of conviction. It's not a declaration for the room—it's a reminder for you, a promise that no matter what, Derek will always be there to protect you, to claim you, and to remind anyone foolish enough to cross him exactly where you stand.

For better or worse, this is the other side of Derek's possessiveness—intense, overwhelming, and unapologetically fierce. It's not always easy to handle, but it's part of who he is, and part of the way he loves you with everything he has. And in moments like this, you can't help but love him just as fiercely in return.

Then there are moments of intimacy and passion—moments that remind you of just how deeply Derek Hale loves and needs you. Tonight, one of those moments begins quietly, in the safe haven of your shared bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light across the room as you sit comfortably on the bed, your back against the headboard, a book resting in your lap. It's not just any book, though—it's about being Luna to a pack.

You've never officially been given the title, but you've taken on the responsibilities in your own way. You care for Derek's pack—both the older members and the newer ones—like they're your own family. Whether it's listening to their problems, giving advice, training alongside them to sharpen their skills, or cooking meals that bring everyone together, you've seamlessly become their rock, their guiding presence. Even if Derek hasn't formally acknowledged it, the pack already sees you as their Luna, and you want to understand the role better—to be even more for them, and for Derek.

You're deep in thought as you read, turning a page when the sound of the bathroom door opening pulls your attention. You glance up just as Derek steps into the room, and for a moment, the air seems to shift. His hair is damp, water droplets still clinging to the ends and glistening under the soft light. A towel is wrapped low around his waist, leaving his broad chest and sculpted torso fully exposed, muscles flexing with every step he takes. The faint scent of his soap lingers in the air—a clean, woodsy scent that's distinctly his—and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Derek doesn't say anything at first. His piercing green eyes meet yours, and there's a flicker of something in his gaze—something raw and unspoken. It's a look that's equal parts admiration and desire, like he's seeing you for the first time all over again. You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you hold his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

"What are you reading?" he finally asks, his voice low and slightly rough, still thick from the heat of the shower. He moves closer, his bare feet silent against the floor as he stops at the edge of the bed.

You hold up the book slightly, showing him the cover. "Something about being a Luna," you reply softly, your voice steady but tinged with a hint of shyness. "I just... thought it might help. You know, since I've kind of been acting like one already."

Derek's expression softens, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, almost imperceptible smile. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your knee through the blanket you have draped over your legs. "You don't need a book to tell you how to be a Luna," he says, his tone warm and laced with pride. "You're already everything they need."

His words send a warmth through your chest, but before you can respond, he moves onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He settles beside you, leaning back on one arm as his free hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The closeness of him—the heat of his skin, the faint scent of him still lingering from his shower—makes your pulse quicken.

"You take care of everyone," Derek murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. His fingers trail lightly along your jawline, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. "You've made this pack stronger, more connected. And you've done the same for me."

You swallow hard, feeling the intensity of his gaze as it locks onto yours. "I just want to make things easier for you—for all of you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be someone you can depend on."

"You already are," Derek says firmly, his hand sliding down to rest against your shoulder. He leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. "You're my anchor. My strength. My Luna."

The last word comes out with a weight that makes your breath hitch. He's never said it out loud before, never made it official. But hearing it now, spoken with such conviction, sends a rush of emotions through you. Before you can respond, Derek's lips capture yours in a kiss that's both tender and demanding, pouring every ounce of his love and passion into the moment. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing closer to yours.

The book slips from your lap, forgotten, as you lose yourself in him. His warmth, his touch, the way he whispers your name like it's the only thing that matters—it's all-consuming. In this moment, there's no pack, no responsibilities, no worries. There's only Derek, and the unbreakable bond you share with him.

When you finally pull back, breathless, he rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your neck. "You don't have to prove anything," he says quietly, his voice full of sincerity. "You're already everything I need. Everything we need."

The words settle deep in your chest, filling you with a sense of belonging you didn't realize you were missing. In Derek's arms, with his love surrounding you, you realize that being his Luna isn't about titles or duties—it's about being the person who stands beside him, through everything, just as he stands beside you.

Derek can be such a lover boy when he wants to be—a side of him that's soft, affectionate, and, at times, beautifully vulnerable. It's a part of him he doesn't show to many people, but with you, he lets down his walls, revealing the man behind the strong, stoic alpha exterior. In those moments, he's all tender touches and quiet words, the kind of man who holds you close like you're the most precious thing in his world. He's the Derek who gently brushes your hair out of your face, who kisses you like you're his lifeline, and who lets you see the raw, unguarded emotions that he keeps locked away from everyone else.

But that tenderness can shift in an instant—because when Derek feels his heat coming on, that lover boy softness is quickly replaced by something much more primal and consuming. It starts subtly at first: a faint tension in his muscles, a sharper edge to his movements, and a look in his eyes that burns with an intensity that makes your heart race. You've learned to recognize the signs, the way his breathing grows heavier, his gaze locks onto you, and his usually steady control begins to fray at the edges.

In the beginning, Derek tries to fight it. He does everything in his power to keep that vulnerability intact, to hold onto the tender way he speaks to you and the soft, reverent way he touches you. He doesn't want to lose control, doesn't want the heat to strip away the affection he shows so carefully. But his heat is a force beyond his will—a deep, primal instinct that coils inside him, pushing harder and harder until it demands release. It's not something he can suppress, and as much as he tries to resist it, it takes over, leaving him with only one overwhelming need: you.

The signs are subtle at first—his hands lingering a little longer when he touches you, his gaze trailing after you with a sharp intensity, and the way his breathing changes whenever you're near. But when his heat fully takes over, it's no longer subtle. It's raw, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore. His hands become more insistent, his grip firmer as though he's afraid you might slip through his fingers. His voice, once so soft and measured, grows rough, urgent, every word heavy with a hunger that makes it clear just how deeply he craves you.

For example, there was that one night when the house was quiet, everyone in the pack fast asleep. You were tidying up the living room, moving quietly as you folded a blanket and straightened up the mess left from the day. The only sound was the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. You didn't notice the way the air had shifted at first, the way the temperature seemed to rise just slightly. But then you felt it—the unmistakable pull of his presence.

You turned, and there he was, standing in the doorway. Derek's chest rose and fell heavily, his hair still damp from the shower he must've taken not long ago. His eyes—those piercing green eyes—were locked on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was something different about him, something primal and wild simmering just beneath the surface. His muscles were tense, his hands curling into fists at his sides as though he was fighting to hold himself back.

"Derek?" you asked softly, your voice breaking the heavy silence. You set the blanket down, instinctively stepping toward him, but as soon as you moved, he was already closing the distance between you.

"I can't—" His voice was rough, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands came up, gripping your arms gently but firmly, his touch burning hot against your skin. "I can't wait anymore."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling slightly as he fought to maintain even a shred of control. "I've been trying," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I've been trying to hold back, to give you space. But I can't—I need you now."

His words hit you like a wave, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his body coiled so tightly it felt like it might snap. Derek's vulnerability was still there, flickering in the way his hands shook slightly as they slid down your arms, but it was swallowed up by the primal need overtaking him. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he inhaled deeply, his grip tightening as though grounding himself in your presence.

"Tell me you're mine," he rasped, his voice thick with urgency, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Please."

You could feel his desperation, the way his entire being seemed to hinge on your response. And in that moment, with his heat burning between you and his love for you so evident in every touch, you realized just how much Derek needed you—not just physically, but emotionally, completely. You were his anchor, his safe harbor in the storm of his heat, and you would give him everything he needed.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm yours, Derek," you said firmly, your voice steady even as your heart pounded.

The words seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. With a low growl, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss so fierce and consuming it left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, his touch firm and possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable connection that bound you together.

In that moment, there was no room for hesitation, no space for doubt. Derek's heat had taken over, but it wasn't just instinct—it was his love for you, raw and unfiltered, driving every touch, every kiss, every whispered word. And you gave yourself to him completely, knowing that this was what he needed, and that you would always be there to hold him through it all.

Without a word, his strong arms wrap securely around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off your feet as though you weigh nothing. The sheer strength in his embrace sends a shiver through you, your hands instinctively finding their place on his broad shoulders for balance. His body radiates warmth, the tension in his muscles palpable as he carries you across the room with purpose.

He reaches the couch in just a few steps and lowers himself into it, pulling you down with him. His firm grip never falters, guiding you to straddle his lap with ease. The position is intimate, your knees bracketing his hips as your bodies align perfectly. You can feel the solid expanse of his chest pressing against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you even as your pulse quickens.

Derek's hands settle on your waist at first, his fingers curling slightly as they find their hold. But they don't stay there for long. His touch becomes more deliberate, sliding down to rest on your hips before moving lower, his palms finding their place on the curve of your ass. He grips you firmly, his fingers pressing into the flesh with just enough force to send a jolt of heat through you. There's no hesitation in his actions, only a possessive intensity that makes it clear he's in control of the moment.

His green eyes meet yours, and the look in them takes your breath away. It's a mix of desire, adoration, and something more primal—something that makes it impossible to look away. His hands squeeze again, a low, almost inaudible growl rumbling in his chest as he leans in closer. The movement presses you tighter against him, and the sensation leaves no doubt about how much he wants you.

"You feel perfect like this," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hands don't stop moving, alternating between firm squeezes and slow, deliberate caresses, as though he's memorizing every inch of you. The way his fingers dig into your skin is possessive, grounding, and completely overwhelming all at once.

You can't help but let your hands roam as well, sliding over the strong planes of his shoulders and down his arms. Every inch of him feels solid, unyielding, and the heat between you grows with every passing second. Derek's gaze never wavers, and the intensity of his attention makes you feel like the center of his entire world.

"You're mine," he says, his voice barely more than a growl, but there's an undeniable softness beneath the possessiveness. It's not just a claim—it's a promise, one that makes your chest tighten with emotion. And with the way he's holding you, touching you, you know it's a promise he'll keep.

Derek's lips find the curve of your neck with a hunger that makes your breath hitch. His movements are deliberate yet fevered, the softness of his mouth contrasting with the growing intensity of his desire. The first kiss he presses to your skin is warm and lingering, but it quickly deepens, his lips parting to let his teeth graze against your sensitive flesh. You can feel the heat of his breath as he starts to work his way down, his focus entirely on leaving his mark on you.

The first hickey blooms under his lips as he sucks at the delicate skin just below your jawline, his hand tightening on your waist as if to keep you steady. But you're anything but steady. Your body reacts instinctively to the sensation, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his mouth continues its work. His tongue flicks over the spot he's just claimed, soothing it for a brief moment before he moves on to another area, determined to make sure everyone knows you're his.

As his kisses grow more intense, your body seems to take on a mind of its own. Without realizing it, you begin to shift in his lap, the movement subtle at first—a slight roll of your hips, a faint press of your weight against his hands. Derek notices immediately. His hands, already gripping your ass, tighten their hold, his fingers digging into the flesh as if anchoring you to him.

The friction from your movements sends a spark through both of you, and you hear Derek's breath hitch against your skin. He pulls back for just a moment, his green eyes blazing with a mix of surprise and raw desire as he looks at you. "You don't even know what you're doing to me," he growls, his voice low and rough, every word dripping with need.

But instead of stopping, your body moves again, a subconscious rhythm taking over as you grind against him. The heat between you is undeniable, and every shift of your hips fans the flames of Derek's growing need. His hands guide your movements now, pulling you closer, pressing you tighter against him. His grip is firm, almost possessive, as if he's afraid you might stop.

"You're making this impossible," he murmurs, his lips finding your neck once more. This time, his kisses are rougher, more desperate, each one leaving a deeper mark than the last. The combination of his mouth on your neck and the way his hands control your movements has you utterly overwhelmed, your mind clouded with nothing but the feel of him.

Derek groans softly against your skin, his voice filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger that only spurs you on. Every small movement, every sound you make seems to push him further, his desire for you quickly spiraling out of control. You can feel it in the way his lips move against you, the way his hands grip you like he never wants to let go, and the way his body reacts to every subtle shift of your own.

There's no hesitation, no second-guessing—just the all-consuming pull of desire, the undeniable connection between you both as Derek claims you with every touch, every kiss, every whispered growl.

Derek's hands were everywhere—firm, strong, and utterly insistent. His grip on your waist tightened as his lips found yours again, rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. It wasn't long before his hands slid lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants and boxers. With one swift motion, he began pulling them down, exposing the bare skin of your ass to the cool air. The heat radiating off his body only made the contrast sharper, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his hands moved over your newly exposed flesh.

The way his palms kneaded the curve of your ass made it clear he was ready to take things further, his movements growing more urgent with every second. Derek's breathing was heavy, his lips hovering just over your jaw as he whispered, "I need you." His voice was gravelly, raw with desire, and it sent a shiver through you. You could feel just how ready he was, the evidence of his arousal pressing firmly against you as he gripped your hips and pulled you even closer.

But as much as the intensity of the moment consumed you, a sliver of reason managed to push through the haze. You glanced around the room, the familiar surroundings of the living room suddenly feeling far too exposed. You placed a hand on Derek's chest, pushing lightly to create a small bit of space between you. "Derek," you said, your voice breathless but firm. "We're in the living room."

Derek paused for the briefest of moments, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a second, you thought he might reconsider, but instead, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips. "I don't care," he replied, his tone low and filled with determination. His hands slid back to your ass, squeezing possessively as he pulled you tighter against him, his lips brushing against your neck as he added, "Let them see. Let them know you're mine."

You let out a soft groan, your resolve wavering under the intensity of his words and the heat of his touch. But still, the logical part of you persisted, refusing to let him completely ignore the reality of your surroundings. "You would care," you countered, your voice steadying, "if someone walked in and interrupted us."

That gave him pause. Derek let out a low growl, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder as his grip on you tightened. You could feel the tension in his body, the conflict between his desire and his instinct to protect you—not just from danger, but from the inevitable embarrassment of someone catching you both in such a compromising position.

After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh, his lips grazing your skin as he murmured, "Fine." His hands lingered on you for a moment longer, his thumbs brushing over your skin as if committing the sensation to memory before he finally pulled back, his eyes still dark with unfulfilled need.

Suddenly, he slid his hands to your waist and gently lifted you off his lap, setting you aside on the couch. The loss of his warmth, even for a moment, made you ache with anticipation, but your eyes stayed fixed on him, drawn to the commanding presence that always seemed to radiate from him in moments like this.

Standing tall in front of you, Derek's green eyes burned with desire, his gaze locking onto yours as his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. He tugged it upward in one smooth motion, revealing the toned expanse of his chest and the taut muscles of his abdomen, each movement accentuating the strength you knew so well. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his skin flushed slightly as the fire between you both built.

Your mouth went dry as he kicked off his shoes and reached for the waistband of his pants. The sound of the zipper echoed faintly in the room, a soft but tantalizing promise of what was to come. Derek's pants slid down his legs, and he stepped out of them with effortless grace, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. The thin fabric did little to hide the evidence of his arousal, and your heart raced at the sight.

Finally, Derek's hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, his movements slow enough to drive you mad with anticipation but fast enough to show he couldn't wait much longer. He hooked his thumbs into the fabric and pushed them down, letting the boxers fall to the floor. As he stood before you, completely bare, your eyes were instantly drawn to him—his swollen dick, thick and hard, standing proudly, a sight that never failed to captivate you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took him in, your pulse quickening as heat pooled in your stomach. Derek's body was a masterpiece, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that truly stole your breath. His dick twitched slightly under your gaze, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if he could sense just how much you loved seeing him like this.

"You like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, the deep timbre sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking up to meet his as a smile of your own formed. "Every time," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

Derek stepped closer, his body radiating heat, and the intensity of his gaze made your pulse race even faster. "Good," he murmured, his tone laced with desire. "Because it's all for you."

In a matter of moments, Derek gently pulled you up from the couch to stand in front of him. His green eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw hunger that made your knees weak. Without saying a word, his fingers slid to the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward in one smooth motion and tossing it aside. His touch was electric as his hands roamed over your exposed skin, pausing briefly at your chest before he moved lower, his gaze trailing behind every movement like a predator savoring his prey.

He crouched slightly to tug at your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease before sliding them down your legs. The cool air of the room kissed your skin as your boxers followed, leaving you completely exposed before him. Derek stood tall again, his eyes raking over your body with a primal intensity that made your breath hitch. When his gaze landed on your hard dick, his lips parted, and a low, guttural growl escaped him—a sound so full of arousal it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Perfect," he muttered, his voice gravelly and thick with desire. His hands didn't hesitate as they found your hips again, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin just above your pelvis before sliding lower to cup your ass. He gave it a firm squeeze, a smirk tugging at his lips when you gasped at the contact.

Before you could process what was happening, Derek bent down slightly and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder with effortless ease. The sudden change in perspective made your heart race, your body pressing against his as his other hand gripped your thigh to keep you steady.

"Derek!" you exclaimed, though your voice came out breathless, a mix of surprise and excitement.

He chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down to your bare ass, giving it a sharp smack that echoed through the room. "I've been patient long enough," he growled, his voice low and dripping with need. The sting of his hand on your skin sent a jolt of heat through you, and you could feel the strength in his hold as he carried you with ease.

Each step he took toward your shared bedroom was purposeful, the sound of his bare feet against the floor muted by the thundering of your heartbeat. His grip on you was firm but possessive, and his other hand didn't stay idle. It slid along your thigh, occasionally squeezing or smacking your ass again, the sensation leaving you breathless and your arousal growing.

"Keep squirming, and I'll have to stop right here," Derek rumbled, his tone teasing but with a dangerous edge that sent a thrill through you. "And I don't think either of us wants that."

The promise in his words made your body still, though the anticipation building between you was almost unbearable. Derek's confidence, the sheer power in the way he carried you as if you were weightless, only made your desire for him burn hotter. By the time he reached the bedroom door, you were already aching for him, your body alive with anticipation for what was to come.

Derek kicked the door open with his foot, stepping inside with purpose. He lowered you just enough to brush his lips against your skin, his hot breath ghosting over your back as he whispered, "You're mine tonight." Then, with one last firm squeeze to your ass, he laid you down on the bed, his body following closely behind as his desire for you became all-consuming.

Derek's lips crashed against yours with a hunger that took your breath away. His kiss was deep, urgent, and all-consuming, as if he couldn't get enough of you. His hands cupped your face, his fingers rough yet gentle as they tilted your head slightly to deepen the connection. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his chest pressed firmly against yours, his breathing growing heavier with every second that passed.

Your hands roamed down his strong, sculpted body, your fingertips tracing the ridges of his muscles. Derek groaned softly into your mouth, his lips parting slightly as his tongue brushed against yours, igniting a fire that made your entire body hum with anticipation. The kiss was messy, desperate, and filled with all the pent-up desire he'd been holding back.

As your hand trailed lower, you felt the tension in his body shift, his muscles tensing slightly under your touch. Your fingers brushed against his length, already hard and hot, and a shudder ran through him. Derek growled low in his throat, the sound reverberating in his chest as your hand wrapped around him. The growl wasn't just a reaction—it was primal, a raw expression of his need for you.

You started to pump him slowly, your grip firm but teasing. Derek's head dropped forward, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a sharp exhale. His lips parted, his breathing growing heavier with each deliberate stroke of your hand. "You're going to drive me crazy," he murmured, his voice rough and strained, a hint of a growl still laced in his tone.

The way his body responded to your touch was intoxicating. His hips jerked slightly, instinctively chasing the friction you were providing. His hands slid down to your waist, his grip tightening as if he needed to ground himself, to keep from losing control entirely. Every time your hand moved, a low, guttural sound escaped him, his arousal clear in the way his body seemed to tremble under your touch.

"You know what you're doing to me," Derek growled, his voice rough and filled with barely restrained desire. His green eyes locked onto yours, darkened with lust, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart race. "You're not playing fair."

You smirked slightly, your strokes becoming just a little slower, more deliberate, as you watched him struggle to keep his composure. "I'm just giving you what you want," you replied, your voice soft but teasing, a playful edge to your tone.

Derek's growl deepened, his hands sliding up your sides before pulling you even closer. His lips found yours again, this time rougher, more demanding, as though trying to pour every ounce of his need for you into the kiss. The way his body responded to your touch, the way he growled and trembled beneath your hand, was utterly intoxicating. You knew he was holding back, but the raw intensity in his kisses and his touch made it clear he wouldn't be able to for much longer. And that thought sent a thrill through you that only made you want to tease him more.

Suddenly, Derek's hand gently closed around your wrist, pulling your hand away from his dick. The intense look in his green eyes made your breath hitch, a silent promise of what was to come. He leaned in, his lips finding yours once more in a kiss that was both deep and commanding, his tongue brushing against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy. Slowly, his kisses began to trail downward, his lips and tongue leaving a fiery path across your jaw, then your neck, and lower still.

Each kiss was deliberate, his mouth pausing to savor the curve of your collarbone, the plane of your chest, and the dip of your stomach. His hands followed the journey, strong and sure as they mapped out your body, leaving no inch untouched. By the time he reached the edge of your hips, your pulse was racing, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Derek smirked against your skin, the heat of his breath a tantalizing tease as his hands gripped your thighs.

He looked up at you then, his gaze dark and filled with unrestrained desire. Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hands beneath your legs, lifting them effortlessly over his broad shoulders. The way he held you—strong, steady, and completely in control—sent a wave of anticipation coursing through you. Before you could say anything, you felt it: the first brush of his tongue, warm and wet, as it trailed along your hole.

A soft moan escaped your lips, unbidden, as the sensation overtook you. Derek growled low in response, the vibration against your skin only adding to the pleasure. His tongue worked with expert precision, circling, teasing, and pressing in ways that left you gripping the sheets beneath you. The heat of his mouth, combined with the pressure of his hands gripping your thighs, was overwhelming in the best way.

Your hands found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you held onto him for dear life. The small, involuntary tug you gave earned another growl from Derek, his lips curling into a smirk against your most sensitive skin. He didn't stop—if anything, he doubled down, his tongue moving more insistently as he sought every sound he could pull from you.

"Derek," you gasped, your voice trembling as your back arched slightly, pressing yourself closer to his mouth. The combination of his tongue and the strength of his hands holding you in place left you completely at his mercy. Each flick, each press of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, your entire body alight with sensation.

He paused just long enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, a smirk playing on his face. "I love the way you sound," he murmured, his voice rough with arousal before he dove back in, his tongue exploring you with even more intensity. The way his stubble brushed against your skin only heightened the sensation, the mix of roughness and warmth sending you spiraling.

Your grip on his hair tightened, a soft gasp escaping you as he found just the right rhythm. Derek's growls vibrated against you, letting you know just how much he enjoyed tasting you, savoring every moment. Time seemed to blur as he continued, his sole focus on your pleasure, making it impossible to think of anything else but the way his mouth felt against you. Every kiss, every stroke of his tongue was a reminder of just how much Derek wanted you, needed you, and was willing to worship every part of you.

When your hole was glistening and wet from Derek's relentless attention, he finally pulled back, his lips and chin slick as he looked up at you with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. His hands gently squeezed your thighs, his touch grounding as he took a moment to drink in the sight of you—flushed, breathless, and completely undone beneath him.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the words dripping with sincerity and raw desire. His hands shifted, one sliding up to caress your hip while the other found his own dick, thick and pulsing with need. Slowly, he stroked himself, his eyes never leaving yours, the sight of you clearly spurring him on.

Derek positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his swollen dick brushing against your slick hole. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and your breath hitched as you felt the heat of him press against your sensitive skin. He moved deliberately, sliding his length along your hole, teasing you with the friction. Each slow, deliberate stroke left you gasping, your body instinctively shifting to chase the sensation.

"Derek," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands reached out to grip his broad shoulders. He smirked slightly at your reaction, the faintest curve of his lips a sign of his confidence, his control.

"Patience," he said, his voice rough yet soothing, his free hand sliding up to intertwine with yours. "I want to feel every second of this."

Finally, he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his dick pressing just slightly inside. His green eyes met yours, searching for any hint of hesitation, but all he saw was your trust, your desire for him. With a steady hand, he began to push forward, his hips moving slowly, giving you time to adjust as he stretched you inch by inch. The sensation was intense, a delicious mix of pressure and pleasure that left you gripping his shoulders tighter.

Derek let out a low groan, his voice deep and guttural, as he sank further into you. "You feel so good," he murmured, his words shaky as his control wavered. His hands returned to your hips, gripping you firmly as he continued his slow, deliberate pace, every movement sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

Your body arched beneath him, your breath hitching as he filled you completely. The stretch was intense, but the way Derek moved—steady, patient, and utterly focused on your comfort—made it impossible to feel anything but pleasure. He paused for a moment when he was fully seated inside you, his chest heaving as he gave you a chance to adjust, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, his concern shining through the haze of his desire.

You nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face, your lips brushing against his. "I'm perfect," you whispered, your voice filled with both reassurance and longing. "Please, Derek. I need you."

Hearing those words seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. Derek's hips began to move again, slow and deliberate at first, each thrust pushing deeper, making you feel every inch of him. His hands held you firmly, guiding your body against his as he set a rhythm that quickly had you melting beneath him. Every movement, every touch, every breath between you was filled with passion, a connection so deep it left you utterly consumed by him.

Then his strong hands moved to guide your legs, lifting them effortlessly and wrapping them around his waist. The new position brought him even closer, allowing him to sink deeper into you with every movement, making your breath hitch with each thrust. His body radiated heat, his skin damp with exertion, and the steady grind of his hips made it clear he was completely consumed by you.

Leaning forward, Derek brought his face closer to yours, his green eyes darkened with lust but softened by the depth of emotion they held. His lips captured yours in a passionate kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that matched the rhythm of his body. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, and you opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, your hands tangling in his damp hair as you pulled him closer. The kiss was intense, raw, yet there was a tenderness to it—a reminder that even in this moment of unrelenting desire, Derek was still yours, and you were his.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles trembled slightly as he worked to hold back the primal instincts simmering just beneath the surface. Derek's heat was there, smoldering like an untamed wildfire, and every thrust, every growl rumbling in his chest, hinted at how much he was restraining himself. He wanted to lose himself in you, to let his heat take over completely, but he fought to maintain control, to ensure your pleasure and comfort came first.

"God, you feel so good," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and strained, a testament to just how much effort he was putting into holding back. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as his thrusts continued at the same steady pace, each one deliberate and measured. "I'm trying," he added, his voice breaking slightly, a growl slipping out as his hands gripped your hips tighter. "I don't want to hurt you."

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his stubbled jaw as you gazed up at him. "Derek," you said softly, your voice trembling but steady, "I trust you. I'm here. Let go."

His eyes searched yours, his resolve flickering for a moment before he groaned, his lips claiming yours again in a kiss so fierce it made your heart race. His grip on your hips tightened, and his movements became just a fraction deeper, more purposeful, though still careful not to overwhelm you. The simmering heat inside him was building, and you could feel the tension rising with every thrust, every breathless kiss.

Derek held back, but barely. The restraint in his movements was palpable, his body vibrating with the effort it took to stay in control. Yet, through it all, his focus remained on you—your reactions, your pleasure, the soft moans and gasps he pulled from your lips as he pushed you closer to the edge. And in that moment, you knew that even as his heat threatened to consume him, Derek would never let it burn you. Instead, he would use every ounce of his strength to channel it into something passionate, raw, and undeniably yours.

You sat up slowly, the movement making Derek's breath hitch as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His eyes met yours, dark with desire and barely restrained passion, as your lips found his in a kiss that was hungry, deep, and filled with the raw emotion simmering between you. The warmth of his skin pressed against yours, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you as you moved.

Your body pressed against his chest, your heart pounding as you began to lift yourself, only to sink back down onto his length. The sensation drew a low growl from Derek's throat, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements, his strength supporting you effortlessly. Each time you moved, a wave of pleasure rippled through both of you, the rhythm you created together growing steadily more intense.

Derek's lips moved with yours, his kisses desperate and consuming, as though he couldn't get enough of you. His tongue brushed against yours, his breath hot and ragged as you continued to rock up and down his length, taking him fully with every motion. The feeling of him filling you completely sent shivers down your spine, and the sounds escaping both of you only added to the fire between you.

"Ugh," Derek murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, a tremor of restraint still present beneath the overwhelming desire in his tone. His hands slid down your back, gripping you more firmly, his fingertips digging into your skin as he fought to maintain his control.

You pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against his, your fingers tangling in his hair as you looked into his eyes. "Derek," you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. "I want you—completely. Don't hold back."

His eyes searched yours for a moment, the conflict in his expression clear. But as you moved again, your body pressing against him and taking him deeper, the last threads of his restraint began to fray. A deep, guttural growl escaped his chest as his grip on you tightened, his hands guiding your movements with more insistence.

The words, "Don't hold back," was all Derek needed to finally let go. His body stilled for just a moment, his chest rising and falling as he processed what you'd said, the last remnants of his restraint hanging by a thread. Then, like a dam breaking, something primal and unstoppable surged forward. His eyes snapped open, glowing a brilliant, fiery red—a vivid sign that his heat had fully taken over. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through you, but it wasn't fear you felt. It was exhilaration, knowing he trusted you enough to let his instincts take control.

With a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the room, Derek's hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive force that left no doubt: you were his. His thrusts increased, the steady pace giving way to something far more raw, more urgent. Each powerful motion sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, your body arching to meet him as he moved with an almost unstoppable intensity.

"God, you're mine," he growled, his voice rough and deep, a mix of desire and possession. The words sent a thrill through you, and you tightened your hold around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him as his thrusts drove deeper, faster. The heat radiating off his body felt like it might consume you, the primal energy pouring out of him filling the room as his focus remained entirely on you.

His glowing red eyes never left yours, even as his lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. Each kiss felt like a brand, a mark of his uncontrollable need for you. The mix of his rough, animalistic growls and the whispered praises against your skin left you trembling in his arms, completely lost in the storm of his heat.

"You feel so damn good," Derek muttered, his voice breaking slightly as his pace continued to build. His hands moved from your hips, sliding up your back, pulling you flush against his chest as if he couldn't get you close enough. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your moans mingling with his growls as he pushed you both closer to the edge.

Every thrust, every motion, every sound Derek made was a testament to how much he'd been holding back, and now that he'd given in, there was no stopping him. His heat had fully taken over, his need for you driving him to claim you in every possible way. And as the overwhelming sensations built to a crescendo, you realized there was nothing else in the world but this—Derek, his love, his heat, and the unshakable bond between you.

Soon Derek's thrusts became relentless, his dick driving into you with a force and precision that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Each motion was deep, powerful, and perfectly aimed, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with the accuracy of someone who knew your body intimately. It was overwhelming, the way he moved—like every thrust was deliberate, designed to claim you completely and leave you trembling in his grasp.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscles as he kept up his intense rhythm. Derek's growls filled the air, low and primal, reverberating through your chest as he poured every ounce of his strength and need into you. His glowing red eyes bore into yours, the fiery gaze a reminder of the heat driving him, the primal instincts that he had finally let loose.

"Derek," you gasped, your voice breaking as another perfectly angled thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you. The way he moved felt almost otherworldly, each motion deliberate yet raw, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. It was like he was determined in his mission to push you further, to make sure you felt every inch of him.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Every part of you belongs to me." His voice was rough, strained, but filled with conviction, his words punctuated by the unyielding rhythm of his hips. The sheer dominance in his tone, paired with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, sent shivers racing down your spine.

Your body reacted instinctively, arching into him as your legs tightened around his waist. Derek's hands gripped your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive force as he adjusted his angle slightly, making each thrust even more devastatingly precise. The sensation was almost too much, a perfect mix of intensity and pleasure that left you gasping for air.

Derek was completely lost in you, the heat of his need driving him to claim you fully, completely. And with each thrust, each powerful motion, it felt like he was branding himself into your very soul, making sure you'd never forget exactly who you belonged to.

The pleasure overwhelmed you, building higher and higher until you couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled gasp, your body tensed, and a rush of ecstasy surged through you. Your release came in powerful waves, your dick pulsing as streams of cum spilled between your bodies, coating your stomach and his. The intensity of it left you trembling, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

But Derek didn't stop. If anything, the sight and feel of your climax seemed to fuel him further, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he maintained his relentless pace. His glowing red eyes locked onto yours, the raw hunger in them making it clear that your pleasure had only pushed him closer to the edge of his control.

"You think we're done?" Derek murmured, his voice rough and dripping with desire. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips thrust deeper, harder, drawing out every ounce of sensitivity from your overstimulated body. "I'm not stopping until I've had all of you."

The overstimulation sent sparks of sensation through your nerves, your body jerking slightly at the relentless friction. Every thrust was a mix of pleasure and intensity that bordered on too much, yet you couldn't bring yourself to tell him to stop. The way he filled you, the way his hands gripped your hips to pull you tighter against him, left you utterly helpless under his control.

"Derek," you moaned, your voice trembling as your hands gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The combination of your own sensitivity and his unwavering pace was overwhelming, leaving you caught in a haze of pleasure that felt like it might consume you entirely.

He growled low, a sound so primal it made your toes curl, and his lips found your neck, biting and sucking at your skin as he thrust into you with a ferocity that left you breathless. "I'm not done with you yet," he rumbled, his tone possessive, his movements a clear reminder that he wasn't holding anything back anymore.

Even as your body trembled from the overstimulation, you couldn't deny the heat building again deep inside you. Derek's intensity was undeniable, his need for you all-consuming, and the way he moved made it clear he wouldn't stop until you were completely undone beneath him—again and again.

Suddenly, Derek's movements grew even more primal, his glowing red eyes blazing with unrestrained heat. With a growl that vibrated deep in his chest, he pulled out of you briefly, he gripped your thighs as he stood up effortlessly, lifting you with him. The next thing you knew, your back was pressed against the cool surface of the nearest wall, the sharp contrast of heat and cold sending a shiver through your already sensitive body.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as Derek held you there, his strength making it seem like you weighed nothing. One of his hands braced against the wall beside your head, while the other gripped your thigh tightly, keeping you secure as he aligned himself once more. Without hesitation, he thrust back into you, the sudden fullness pulling a loud, uncontrollable moan from your lips.

The new angle made every movement more intense, Derek's hips snapping against you with a force that left you gasping for air. Each thrust drove you harder against the wall, your body pinned completely under his control. His growls filled the room, low and guttural, as he poured every ounce of his heat-fueled need into you.

"I can't get enough of you," Derek muttered, his voice rough and breathless. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. "I can't stop—I don't want to stop."

The intensity of his words, combined with the unrelenting rhythm of his hips, sent sparks of pleasure racing through your body. Your hands tangled in his hair, your fingers gripping tightly as you pulled him closer, capturing his lips in a desperate, heated kiss. His tongue tangled with yours as his thrusts became harder, faster, each one leaving you trembling in his arms.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with the labored breaths and groans that escaped both of you. Derek's hand slid from your thigh to grip your ass, pulling you closer to him as his hips drove even deeper, hitting spots that made your vision blur. The wall behind you groaned slightly under the force of his movements, but Derek didn't seem to care—his focus was entirely on you, on the way your body responded to his.

"Fuck," he growled against your lips, his voice dripping with possession as his thrusts became almost brutal in their intensity. His heat burned through him, his need for you all-consuming, and he was determined to claim every part of you, to make sure you felt just how much he wanted you.

Every movement, every growl, every heated kiss pushed you closer to the edge again, your body completely overwhelmed by the force of Derek's passion. Pinned against the wall, utterly at his mercy, you surrendered to him completely, knowing he wouldn't stop until you were both completely undone.

With one final, deep thrust, Derek's body tensed against yours, his growl reverberating through the room as he reached his peak. You felt the warmth of his release flood into you, the heat of it spreading through your body like wildfire. His hands gripped you tightly, almost possessively, his nails pressing into your skin as he held you flush against him, refusing to let even an inch of space separate you.

The tension in his body slowly began to ebb as his growls softened into heavy, ragged breaths. Derek's forehead rested against yours for a moment, his chest heaving against yours as the remnants of his heat coursed through him. His lips found yours instantly, the kiss a mix of passion and tenderness, as if he needed to ground himself in you after the intensity of what you'd shared.

The desperation in his kisses began to fade, replaced by something gentler, more intimate. His hands slid up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, his body still trembling slightly against yours. It was as if he was pouring every ounce of affection and gratitude into that moment, letting you know without words how much he loved and needed you.

Gradually, as the heat left his system, the fiery red glow in his eyes began to fade. You watched as they softened, returning to the familiar, piercing green you loved so much. His gaze met yours, the intensity in his eyes replaced by a look of pure adoration and vulnerability. The primal edge of his heat had given way to the man you knew—the Derek who cherished you with every fiber of his being.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice hoarse from the growls and moans of moments before. His forehead pressed gently to yours, his hands cradling your face as he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his damp hair as you leaned into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you replied, your voice steady and filled with warmth. "That was... everything."

A faint, almost sheepish smile tugged at Derek's lips, his eyes flicking between yours. "I didn't hurt you?" he asked again, his tone softer now, the protective side of him surfacing even after everything.

You shook your head, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and reassuring. "You were perfect, Derek."

Relief washed over his features, and he let out a soft breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. He held you there for a long moment, his heart beating steadily against yours as his body finally relaxed completely. Even as the intensity of his heat faded, his love for you burned just as brightly, evident in the way he held you as if you were his entire world.

Derek's love for you shines through, even in the midst of his heat—a love so deep and unwavering that no primal instinct could ever overshadow it. When his heat takes control, his movements may be raw, his growls guttural, and his need overwhelming, but beneath it all, it's still him. It's still the man who cherishes you with every fiber of his being, who would do anything to protect you, and who trusts you enough to let you see him at his most vulnerable.

It's in those moments that you see Derek completely unguarded, stripped of all the walls he's built to shield himself from the pain of his past. You see the man who loves you fiercely and unapologetically, who worships every inch of you with an intensity that feels like it could consume the air around you. His heat amplifies that love, turning it into a force that's almost too powerful to contain, but even as his instincts drive him, he never loses sight of you—your needs, your comfort, your pleasure.

Each touch, each kiss, each growl is filled with unspoken promises: that you are his, that he will always protect you, and that no matter what, he will never let anything harm you. It's a love that feels almost untamed, wild and primal, yet at the same time, it's rooted in tenderness and trust. Even in his most unrestrained moments, Derek never forgets who you are to him—the one person who sees every side of him and loves him for all of it.

And in those moments, you see all the pieces that make Derek who he is. The lover, whose touch can be both gentle and possessive, worshiping you as if you're the only thing that matters in his world. The protector, whose instincts drive him to keep you safe at all costs, even from his own untamed power. The alpha, strong and commanding, yet willing to yield to you in ways he never would for anyone else. And finally, the man—the one who belongs to you as much as you belong to him, the one who lets himself be vulnerable and open because he trusts you with all that he is.

Derek's passion may burn hot enough to scorch everything in its path, but with you, it's never destructive. It's a love that warms you, strengthens you, and reminds you that no matter what happens, you are his anchor, his solace, and the one person he'll always come back to. And as he holds you close, as his red eyes fade back to green and his heat slowly ebbs away, you know without a doubt that his love for you will always burn brighter than anything else.

#x male reader #derek hale #derek hale x male reader #teen wolf #tyler hoechlin #tyler hoechilin x male reader #gay #smut

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dont-look-behind · 5 months ago

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dating headcanons | derek hale

• His love language is definitely acts of service.

• Sidewalk rule always.

• You never get to touch a doorknob around him.

• Very protective, no one dares to lay a finger on you. You’re literally untouchable.

• Scared to death to hurt you, and wants you to have a normal life as a human.

• You’re probably still a senior in high school when you start dating, so people would stare a lot in the beginning.

• Drives you to school and picks you up everyday.

• Buckles your seatbelt for you and drives you home to take care of you when you’re drunk.

• I can imagine the grumpy x sunshine dynamic.

• He cooks your favorite meals for you.

• He loves laying on top of you for back and head scratches.

• Tough Derek is just an act. He’s the sweetest and sees you with so much respect and tenderness.

• Didn't have a phone until he started dating you. He bought one just to call and text you.

• I feel like most of your dates would be indoor cause he’s not very social.

• If you try to play sassy he’d just laugh cause he thinks it looks cute on you.

• He does admire your confidence though, and thinks you’re kinda badass.

#derek hale #teen wolf #derek hale imagine #headcanon #derek hale x reader #derek hale fluff #tyler hoechlin #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale x you #teen wolf fanfiction

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twdxtrevor · 8 months ago

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My god, seriously even the way this man BREATHES turns me on . .

#teen wolf derek hale #teen wolf gif #teen wolf #derek hale gif #derek hale #derek hale x reader #tyler hoechlin gif #tyler hoechlin

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librababe99 · 8 months ago

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Gravity of You

cw: MDNI, 18+, Clark Kent, Fem!Reader, Friends to lovers, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) word count: 3.1K summary: In the quiet heart of Metropolis, there's more to Clark Kent than meets the eye—especially when it comes to the love he shares with you.

A/N: I’ve got a soft spot when it comes to Clark and just wanted to drop my own little fic into the tumblrsphere🤭 plus I’m so excited for the new movie next year! I really looking forward to seeing David as Superman <3

(DC masterlist)

It had been a quiet evening in Metropolis, the kind that clung to the final moments of summer, thick with the sweet fragrance of freshly cut grass and the distant hum of the city streets. The sky above shimmered with the last glow of twilight, fading into the velvet blue of early night. You had just finished work at the Daily Planet, shoulders heavy from the day's demands. But there was a gentle excitement bubbling under your skin because tonight, Clark was coming over.

He had been dropping hints all week about needing a quiet night together, just the two of you. And truthfully, after the nonstop churn of Metropolis, the idea of being alone with him was the only thing that had kept you going through the long, drawn-out workdays. The way his soft blue eyes would meet yours over the rim of his glasses, promising something far more intimate than words could convey—it was intoxicating.

As you stepped into your apartment, the warm glow of the setting sun bathed the living room in golden light. The soft cotton of your dress clung to your body as you walked toward the window, pulling it open to let the breeze in. The sound of traffic echoed faintly from below, but it was distant, barely there—just like the world would soon be when Clark was with you.

You turned on a few lamps, casting a dim, intimate glow throughout the space. A bottle of wine sat on the kitchen counter, breathing in the open air, and your favorite record was spinning softly on the turntable. Tonight was going to be special; you could feel it in the air.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door—firm, yet soft, as if the person on the other side was holding back from using too much force. Your heart skipped a beat as you crossed the room, smoothing your dress out before reaching for the handle. As soon as you opened it, there he was.

Clark stood in the doorway, his large frame filling the space like he belonged there. He was wearing one of his usual button-downs, but the top two buttons were undone, revealing just a hint of the smooth skin underneath. His hair, tousled from the breeze, was just begging to be touched. Those piercing blue eyes of his softened when they met yours, a slow, easy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and rich.

"Hey yourself," you replied, stepping back to let him in.

As he moved past you, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. There was always something about Clark that made the room feel smaller, like his presence filled every corner, every inch of space. Maybe it was because you knew who he truly was, or maybe it was just the raw power that he seemed to hold back every time he touched you—either way, it sent a shiver down your spine.

He glanced around the room, taking in the soft lighting, the music, and the wine. "Looks like you were expecting me," he teased, his eyes flicking back to yours.

"I might've been," you said, closing the door behind him. "Did you want a drink?"

Clark shook his head slightly. "Not right now," he murmured, his voice deepening as his gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips. "I had something else in mind."

You swallowed hard, the anticipation making your pulse race. You had spent enough time with Clark to know where this was headed, but tonight, there was a different kind of intensity in his eyes. Something that made your stomach flutter and your body heat up all at once.

Without another word, he stepped closer, his broad hand lifting to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and the warmth of his skin against yours sent a delicious tremor through you. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again to find him staring at you with an almost reverent expression.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow, savoring—like he had all the time in the world to explore the taste of your mouth. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. His body was hard beneath your touch, a solid wall of muscle that made you feel safe and completely overwhelmed all at once.

Clark's hands moved down, sliding along your sides until they rested on your hips. He pulled you closer, pressing you firmly against him as the kiss deepened. His tongue teased yours, coaxing soft whimpers from your throat as the heat between you grew more intense.

You felt the edge of the couch pressing against the backs of your thighs, but before you could react, Clark was lifting you effortlessly, setting you down on the soft cushions. He stood over you for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you, breathless and wanting beneath him.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Why don't you show me?" you whispered back, your voice barely steady.

Clark's eyes flared with something primal, something that made your heart race even faster. He slowly dropped to his knees in front of you, his large hands sliding up your legs, pushing your dress higher as he went. The fabric bunched around your hips, leaving your legs exposed to the cool air. You could feel your skin prickling under his touch, your breath catching in your throat as he leaned in, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thigh.

Your head fell back against the couch, your fingers tangling in the fabric as you fought to keep some semblance of control. But Clark wasn’t making it easy. His lips, warm and teasing, worked their way higher, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

"Clark," you gasped, your hips shifting as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them just enough for him to settle between them.

"I want to take my time with you." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

And take his time he did.

Clark's lips traveled lower, brushing over the sensitive skin at the juncture of your thigh and hip. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, and you couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. He looked up at you then, his blue eyes dark with want, and the sight of him between your legs, looking up at you with such hunger, nearly undid you.

With deliberate slowness, his hands slid up to your hips, his fingers hooking into the thin waistband of your underwear. He pulled them down, the fabric sliding against your skin in a way that made your body hum with anticipation. The cool air brushed against your exposed skin, heightening the sensitivity of every nerve ending.

And then, Clark leaned in.

The first brush of his mouth against you was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You arched into him, a soft cry escaping your lips as he kissed you there, his tongue flicking out to taste you. He took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of you like he was committing the experience to memory.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as you tugged him closer, needing more. Clark groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as his tongue worked its magic, teasing and tasting in a way that had you trembling beneath him.

Every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, was designed to drive you higher, to push you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, tightening with every breath you took. Clark's name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as your hips moved against his mouth, chasing the release that was building inside you.

Clark responded to your need, his movements growing more insistent, more focused. He knew exactly what you needed, exactly how to push you over the edge, and he was relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure.

It didn’t take long before you were teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the tension built to an almost unbearable peak. Clark's name left your lips in a broken gasp, and then, with one final flick of his tongue, you shattered.

The pleasure washed over you in waves, your body arching off the couch as your orgasm consumed you. Your hands tightened in Clark's hair, holding him close as the sensation rolled through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. He stayed with you the entire time, his mouth never leaving your body as he coaxed every last drop of pleasure from you.

When you finally came down, your body limp and boneless against the couch, Clark pulled away, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you. The sight of him, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, was enough to send another shiver of want through you.

Without a word, Clark stood, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. You watched, still breathless, as he undid them slowly, one by one, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him—he was all muscle, hard and defined, with just the right amount of softness that made you want to touch every inch of him.

When his shirt finally hit the floor, you couldn't help but reach for him, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again. This kiss was different from the first—deeper, more intense, filled with the promise of what he was about to do to you.

His lips moved with a hunger that matched your own, and you could feel the desire coursing through him in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body. His muscles tensed under your fingers, the raw strength of him a constant reminder of just how powerful he was. And yet, there was always such care in the way he touched you, like you were something precious, something he couldn’t afford to break.

Clark’s hands slipped to the hem of your dress, his fingertips grazing your skin as he slowly began to lift it. You raised your arms, allowing him to pull it over your head, and the cool air hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. His eyes darkened as they swept over your body, drinking you in as though it was the first time he’d ever seen you like this.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

The compliment sent a flush of warmth through you, your heart racing as his hands continued their exploration. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as his fingers trailed down your sides, brushing over your breasts and waist, igniting a fire everywhere he touched. The intensity in his gaze made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, like nothing else mattered except the two of you in this moment.

You reached up, your hands tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. The kiss you shared was slow and sweet, but the undercurrent of passion was undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface. The room around you seemed to blur, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the feel of his strong body against yours, the heat between you growing hotter by the second.

“Clark…” His name was a whisper on your lips as he pulled away, his eyes locking with yours, searching for permission. He didn’t need to ask; you could see the need mirrored in his gaze, feel it in every deliberate movement he made.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low and husky, making your body ache for him in ways you hadn’t known were possible.

“I want you,” you breathed, your hands sliding down his chest, fingers brushing against the waistband of his pants. “I need you.”

Clark’s pupils dilated at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. In one swift movement, he had you back against the cushions, his body hovering over yours, and you could feel the strength in every inch of him as he held himself above you, not letting an ounce of his weight press down on you unless you wanted it.

Your fingers fumbled with the button on his pants, desperate to feel more of him. He helped you, his hands moving quickly to rid himself of the remaining barrier between you. When his pants finally fell to the floor, he stood before you in nothing but his boxers, the fabric doing little to hide the evidence of his desire.

You reached out, your fingers sliding over the waistband of his boxers before gently pushing them down. He groaned as you touched him, his breath hitching as he kicked the last piece of clothing away. When he was finally bare before you, you couldn’t help but pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him—so perfect, so human, and yet so much more.

He knelt back down between your legs, his body hovering just above yours, the heat of him intoxicating as he pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was hot against your skin, and you could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles tensed as he held himself back, waiting for you to give him the signal to go further.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint, but you could see how badly he wanted to lose himself in you. It was the same way you wanted to lose yourself in him.

“Yes,” you whispered, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I’m sure.”

Clark’s control snapped then, but even in his need, there was a tenderness to the way he touched you, a gentleness that made your heart swell. He pressed his body against yours, his lips finding yours again as he aligned himself at your entrance. The first brush of him against you was enough to make you gasp, your body already so sensitive from his earlier touch.

Slowly, he pushed into you, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size. You moaned softly as he filled you, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming in the best possible way. He stilled for a moment, letting you catch your breath, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, you saw nothing but pure, unadulterated love in his gaze.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

“You too,” you breathed, your hands running through his hair as you pulled him into another kiss.

Once he was sure you were ready, Clark began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours. The slow, steady rhythm he set sent waves of pleasure rolling through you, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to that edge. You clung to him, your bodies moving in sync, the world outside fading away as you became lost in each other.

The sounds of your combined moans and heavy breathing filled the room, a symphony of desire that made the heat between you burn hotter. Clark’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, as his pace quickened, his restraint unraveling with each passing second. Every movement, every touch, was driving you higher, the tension building within you like a coil ready to snap.

“Clark,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you felt the tension in your belly tighten, threatening to break. “I’m close…”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice strained as his own pleasure built. His thrusts grew faster, more intense, his control slipping as he chased his own release.

With one final thrust, you shattered. The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your vision going white as the sensation overwhelmed you. Clark followed soon after, a deep groan escaping his lips as he found his own release, his body tensing above you before he collapsed against you, his chest heaving with the force of it.

For a moment, the world was silent, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside and the heavy breathing between the two of you. Clark stayed inside you for a moment longer, savoring the intimacy of the moment before finally pulling out and collapsing beside you on the couch, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into his chest.

Neither of you spoke for a while, the comfortable silence filled only with the sound of your breaths slowly returning to normal. You nestled into his side, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of peace.

“You okay?” he finally asked, his voice a soft rumble that you felt more than heard.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “More than okay,” you whispered, your hand resting over his heart. “That was… amazing.”

Clark let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I’m glad I could be of service,” he teased, but there was an undeniable tenderness in his voice.

You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look down at him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and there was a faint flush to his cheeks. But the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world, made your heart swell with love for him.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

Clark’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in that gentle, familiar way that always made your heart flutter. “Only because of you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

You leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, and in that moment, everything felt perfect. The world outside could wait—right now, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other under the soft glow of the moonlight streaming in through the window.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#clark kent #kal el #superman #dc fandom #dc fanfic #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #clark kent x reader #Clark Kent x fem! reader #Superman x fem! reader #superman smut #Clark Kent smut #henry cavill #tom welling #tyler hoechlin #david corenswet #loml <3

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dietcokeangel2004 · 1 month ago

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Derek Hale

Teen Wolf

#pinterest #pinterest aesthetics #derek hale #scott and stiles #stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #derek hale x reader #derek hale aesthetic #tyler hoechlin #scott mccall #lydia martin #liam dunbar #theo raeken #erica reyes #teen wolf

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marvelsgirl616 · 3 months ago

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ఇ — 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 // 𝐝𝐛𝐟!𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤. — ఇ

#dbf!derek hale #dilf!derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf tv #teen wolf derek hale #derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #tyler hoechlin #superman and lois #clark kent #teen wolf au #superman au #d. hale thoughts #teen wolf thoughts #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you

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themultifandomgal · 2 years ago

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Tyler Hoechlin- Our Love

Season 2 Bloopers/Gag Reel

“Ready on set” Jeff shouts. Tyler next to me whispers to the camera

“Action. Action” which makes me giggle

“Action!”

“Stella will you just listen to me?”

“What? What are you going to say?”

“Nothing” Tyler pulls me to him, we’re meant to kiss but he wiggles his eyebrows making me laugh

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

“Ok reset. And action” Tyler and I go back to our original positions and try again

“Stella will you just listen to me?”

“What? What are you going to say?”

“Nothing” again Tyler pulls me into him but I start laughing again, this time because he’s tickling me

“I’m sorry. Stop it Ty” I playfully hit his shoulder.

Tyler, Dylan and I are sat in ‘Stiles’’ truck ready to do a scene

“Is that a wasp?” I shout “there’s a freaking wasp in here!” I now yell. I squeal opening up the truck and practically running out.

During one of night shoots it’s super cold so Tyler and I keep ourselves warm by dancing.

Holland and I are doing a scene together when Holland sneezes

“Bless you”

“Thank you”

“Let’s go again” Jeff tells us. Holland and I get ready, but this time a fly comes near me and I squeal running away making her laugh.

Tyler and I are supposed to paralysed, me on top of him, while we lay next to Dylan

“This isn’t awkward at all” Dylan says, which he’s meant to because it is Stiles talking, but this makes us all laugh during the take because it could also be applied to the fact that Ty and I are dating

“Damn it” I groan.

Gage Golightly, who plays Erica, and I are doing a scene where Stella is having a go at her for flirting with Derek

“You’ve been together for 5 minutes Stella get over yourself”

“Do you hear right now what your saying because I am messing up this line and I don’t know what I’m saying anymore”

“I have no clue either guess Derek is mine” gage laughs.

#teen wolf actress #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen Wolf bloopers #teen wolf comic con #teen wolf cast #tyler hoechlin x oc #tyler hoechlin x reader #tyler hoechlin #tyler hoechlin imagine

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strugglingwriterwattpad · 2 years ago

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wolfsbane chapter two - second chance at first line

Chapter two - Second Chance at First Line

Scott and Stiles discover that the werewolf curse can also be triggered by anger, besides the full moon. With lacrosse and Allison being the big problem for Scott. But something else becomes a problem, the dead body in the Hale house or (Y/N)’s failed attempt at finding love.

Monday, September 6th

The werewolf slammed his fist into the now permanently dented metal. “Yes! Her father!” he growled. “You, okay?” nothing. Not a single bit of movement “Hey, all right? He didn't recognize you, right?” stiles knelt next to Scott as he panted heavily. “No... N-no, I don't think so...”

“Does she know about him?” his brown eyes turned confused before he shrugged his shoulder in a panic looking back up at his friend. “I don't know! What if she does? This is gonna kill me, man.”

The buzzcut boy pulled Scott up pushing his uniform and equipment into his sweaty palms. “Okay, just focus on lacrosse. Okay? Take this. Take this, and focus on lacrosse for now, okay? That's all you gotta do, yes?”

His breathing finally calmed down looking down at his destroyed locker. “Lacrosse.” He sighed. The two boys slowly left the locker room watching the rest of the team race onto the field. “Here. We. Go!”

Coach Finstock had already begun announcing their first task for the evening smacking his clipboard on the bench. “Let's go! One-on-one from up top! Jackson-- take a long stick today. Atta boy!” Jackson took his place on the field eyeing Scott as he also took his place. The whistle blew and the game began with Scott being a lot slower than he was at try-outs. “McCall, what are you waiting for? Let's go!” Scott tried his best to focus. He tried to race towards Jackson, but his strength seemed to vanish as he fell to the ground with a thud after making an impact on the captain. “Hey, McCall!” Scott moved his head down the face of the green field. His breath got thicker as his rage increased. The ignorant blonde always got on his nerves but now he was a werewolf that rage seemed to triple. “You sure you still want to be the first line, McCall?” Jackson said only making his emotions worse.

Coach finally made it over to Scott just as Jackson walked away. ”My-my grandmother can move faster than that-- and she's dead! You think you can move faster than the corpse of my dead grandmother?” Scott shook his head, his helmet clanking against his skin. “I can't hear you!”

He stood straight eyeing Jackson with a growl. “Yes. Coach.”

“Then do it again!”

Scott clenched his jaw again as he sighed and ran back to position while Coach shouted mockingly toward the rest of the players. “McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!”

Jackson returned to his mid-field position as Scott returned to the front of the line-up for one-on-ones; though his eyes were no longer glowing gold, he still looked angry. The whistle blew once again. “Let's go!”

Scott ran full speed at his captain, gripping his lacrosse stick hard as he collided with Jackson, his right shoulder hitting him at full force. Jackson fell backwards, landing flat on his back in the grass as Scott had done earlier. He clutched his shoulder in pain trying to take a breath.

Stiles, panicked, ran over to Scott to check on him while everyone else was distracted by Jackson. “Scott? Scott, are you, okay? “Scott’s fangs had made an appearance. and his eyes were glowing bright gold as he desperately tried to keep himself from fully turning. Stiles threw his arm around Scott's shoulders, forcing him up toward the locker room doors.

As they tended to Jackson, nobody noticed the angry werewolf standing behind the benches watching the younger wolf’s actions. The green-eyed male turned back towards the forest checking his phone for the time. He knew the teen wouldn’t have control the day after the first turn, but he expected the boy to understand the dangers. He would have to have a talk with him. a very forceful talk.

(Y/N) quickly scrambled to get her house key locking the door as Derek pulled into the gravel drive. In the daylight, his car was impressive to her recently cleaned with tinted windows, but nothing compared to the driver. Derek’s lean figure came into view as we walked around to the passenger side with a toothy grin. She smiled trying to hide her blush as she skipped towards him. “Good morning, Derek.” She smiled his warming radiating off his toned body. “Good morning (Y/N).” His large hand opened the passenger door motioning her to enter his car. “Thank you.” She whispered shyly making him chuckle.

“there’s a small coffee shop downtown right by the shopping street.” He spoke leaving the meadow cottage in the distance. “Sounds cute. I haven’t had the chance to go into town yet.” Now and then, Derek would look down at her fingers watching her twiddle them with nerves. “Hey…” he mumbled grabbing her smaller fingers in his own larger ones. Her skin was cold to the touch but smooth like cream. He felt the sparks from his wolf almost feeling like pins and needles. “You, okay?” He made sure to speak with emotion. His rough voice had changed since the last time he felt like this with a girl. Let alone a woman. This time it was different. She was made for him. She didn’t know it yet, but she was. “Sorry… it’s my first date.” She stuttered.

“That I don’t believe.” He laughed. “I met you once (Y/N). And after that one time, I couldn’t get you out of my head.” He loved the sound of her laugh echoing in the car. “ It was the same with me. I think your green eyes messed with my head Mr hale.” She felt the same with his laugh. She could tell it was a sound rarely heard it was rough and broken like it was pulled out of the storage of his body. The young girl watched her driver pull into the car park stopping slowly by the ticket machine. “Why don’t you head inside and grab a table ill finish packing up.” She nodded her head, her styled hair moving with the motion before she shut the door.

(Y/N) walked into the coffee shop trying to ignore the looks of the older couples looking her up and down like a freak show. She smiled towards the barista asking him for the decaf options. Before she could order the bell from the door jingled signalling a new customer. She smiled looking towards the handsome man she was waiting for. He stopped in his tracks finally getting a good look at her out of the morning sun. Her glossy hair was styled straight framing her natural face shape. She was wearing different shades of purple. A short dress decorated with lighter flowers and a cardigan tied in the middle. Derek looked down at her feet noticing her taller state and seeing chunky black sandals wrapped around her tattooed ankles. Once again, she was covered in jewellery with assorted designs from bones to plants. His wolf almost wanted to pounce at her, but he held it back as much as he can.

“Just in time. I finished my order what do you want?” she asked sweetly clutching her card. “Just a black coffee please.” He asked, “And don’t take her card. I’ll be paying.” The barista nodded before getting on with the two drinks. “I’m not having this argument again.” She sighed smiling widely pushing his hand with his card down. “I don’t think so.” The card reader activated pulling Derek’s attention towards the device. Before he reached over, he felt her long black painted nails swirl the back of his head sending new sensations into his body. She leaned closer to the hidden wolf licking her matching black lips with a cheeky smile. “it’s funny how you assume I would give up on this Derek.” She whispered as the barista turned back around again. “here’s something you should know about me before this goes any further…” The chime of the card reader interrupts Derek’s trance seeing her card be accepted by the reader. “When I say ill pay… I pay.” She giggles picking up their coffees and walking to the booth at the back of the shop.

once Derek sat down (Y/N) eyed him as he blew on his mug and took a sip. His green eyes fascinated her. Maybe it was due to their relation to nature? She didn’t know but she knew she would never get tired of his eyes. “So… what brought you to beacon hills?” he asked as she took a sip of her drink. “Mostly a change of scenery.” She smiled, “I used to live in New Orleans, but it was too busy for me. My grandmother thought it would be good for me.” He nodded his head wondering about her life in a busy place. “My friend hooked me up with a job at the vet it’s not what I major in but it’s something to do.” Derek took another sip mentally noting she worked at the same place Scott did. “It surprises me.” He said the girl’s head tilted in confusion. “Most people who move here are running from something.” She knew it was a joke, but she couldn’t help but think of the spark in her head. He felt her heart skip multiple beats meaning he had hit a nerve in her. Her sweet smile faded as she focused on the drink in her mug. “I guess I kinda am.” She mumbled, “Sorry I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” She tried her best to boost her mood swirling her drink to make a whirlpool.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that. It just reminded me of myself.” He spoke. Stop. Stop talking. She doesn’t need to know what happened. “How do you mean?” she asked. “My family died in a fire 6 years ago. When it happened the first thing, I did was leave for New York.” She didn’t need to know what. Why was he still talking? He shouldn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust her. Stop. Talking. “there’s no shame in running. Especially from something like losing your family.” He looked up towards her, her eyes twinkling from the reflection of the fairy lights in the café. “On the bright side, at least neither of us has to worry about meeting the other family.” Derek smiled at her attempt to make the conversation brighter. “I’m guessing your family isn’t in the picture.” He asked. She laughed making his body relax. “God, I hope not. The day I introduce you to my parents, run!”

Derek hadn’t laughed so much in a long time. The girl facing him brought something out of him that he strangely missed. They both rested their hand on the table lightly brushing their fingertips. The two quickly moved back as they shared the sensation of a zap zooming through their bodies. Derek knew what had happened but kept calm and collected. “Sorry.” She giggled thinking nothing of it except friction. “Anyway, tell me something about you Mr Mysterious.” (Y/N) looked up towards the barista as he refilled her mug smiling in a thank you. “Well, not much to tell to be honest. I was born in the town and played basketball for the school. went to college for business which I’ve never used. I moved back less than a month ago.” (Y/N) nodded her head while humming into her drink. “I wouldn’t take you for a business student. Maybe more of a criminology student. You’d probably be good at interrogations.”

“And why would you say that?”

“you’re a bit of a sourpuss.” Derek huffed into his mug smiling lightly. “You have no idea.” He laughed. “What about you? I know you lived in New Orleans but other than that.” The girl looked down into her mug watching the liquid swirl as she strutted out an innocent timeline. “I was born in Texas; my parents were the typical religious nuts I ran away at 16 to New Orleans. I’m studying plants mostly, but I majored in cryptozoology.” His thick brow arched in confusion that the unfamiliar word. “Sorry, it is the study of mythical creatures. So, things like bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster.” Derek tried hard to suppress his fear there was no way the woman he imprinted on was obsessed with mythical creatures and did not be something to do with his world. Once again, he begged whatever god was listening to not be a hunter. “My favourites are werewolves. She giggled. “No matter what research or legend you read they all say that werewolves mate for life. When they lose a mate that’s it, they die alone mostly from a broken heart.”

“What would you do if you met one?” he mumbled looking up with puppy dog eyes that made her melt in her seat. “Well, first id ask it not to kill me.” She joked. “Probably just talk to them. I mean they’re no different to me or you. Just hairy?” Derek smiled lightly with a big sigh of relief unknown to her she was already doing what she wanted to do. before he could reply to the small clock in the café chimed twelve spooking (Y/N) with a jump.

“Oh, shoot noon already?!” she ground her teeth grabbed hold of her bag on the other chair and looked back up at Derek. “I’m sorry I’m gonna have to go I have some errands before work.” Disappointed Derek could only smile nodding his head “Don’t worry it’s fine. I’m guessing another date to finish where we left off.” He asked as the two stood up and tidy the table. “Anywhere you would suggest?”

“There’s an old English-style pub on the other end of time, called the Swan, Thursday night ill meet you there at 6?” she noted it down on her hand before scrambling through her tote bag and pulling out the familiar leather jacket he had seen her in the night before. “ As much as I want to steal it?” she joked. He took it from her dainty hands noticing the torn bitten edges of her nail beds almost raw to draw blood. He eyed the jacket for a moment before wrapping It back around her as she closed the café door. “I think it looks a lot better on you than me.” He whispered. His wolf quickly got the better of him as the scent of her entered his nose. He kissed her cheek feeling the heat from her rosy cheek hit his lips sending him into cloud nine. “I’ll see you Thursday, Mr Hale.” She giggled. The werewolf watched the girl walk down the street towards the shops, his fern-green eyes watching her skirt sway with her hips.

As Night fell on beacon hills, Scott returned home to his messy bedroom. He dropped his backpack onto the floor in the corner and belly-flopped onto his bed with a heavy sigh. After a moment of silence, a knock on his door startled him out of his trance. “Hey, late shift again for me. But I am taking the day off to see your first game!” Scott, clearly still unhappy about the fact that he knows he can’t play, wasted no time to start arguing with her in a grumpy tone. “No, Mom, you can't-“ Melissa scoffed interrupting him. “Oh, no, I can and will. Come on, one shift isn't gonna break us... Not completely... stiles’ dad thought it would be a good idea to invite your new co-worker (Y/N)?” Scott knew he couldn’t change her mind knowing his mother’s words were final. “Hey, what's with your eyes? “Alarmed, Scott rose onto his elbows, frightened of the glowing gold that was new to him. “You look like you haven't slept in days.” Trying to hide his relief, Scott shook his head sighing lightly. “Oh, uh, it's nothing. I'm just... stressed...”

“Just stress? Nothing else?”

“ Homework...”

“ I mean, it's not like you're on drugs or anything, right?”

“ ...Right now?”

Melissa scoffed loudly before starting a row of questions. “Right now? I'm sorry, what do you mean, "right now?" Have you ever taken drugs?”

“ Have you?”

Melissa stared at her child with irritation and exasperation for a moment before finally just clicking her tongue, sighing, and walking to the door with a huff. “Get some sleep.” She passed him one last look and finally disappears to go to work. As Scott heard the front door lock, he marched towards his laptop hearing the familiar ringtone for video call. Stiles’ face popped on the screen with a flashing toy gun shooting at the monitor with a red beam. “What’d you find out?” Too exhausted to play games, Scott got to the point of the call, which was Jackson. “Well, it's bad. Jackson's got a separated shoulder.” Guilt slowly grew in the pit of the werewolf’s stomach. Jackson may have been an asshole, but the teen bully didn’t ask to be floored by a supernatural being with the strength of fifty men. “Because of me?” at his words stiles sneered. “Because he's a tool. they don't know if he’s gonna play yet. Now, they're just counting on you.” Just what Scott needed to hear.

On-screen, Stiles leant forward, concern displayed on his pale face. “What?” his friend’s brown eyes widened with concern. The boy started to frantically type the sound of clicking keys echoed through the speaker. “It looks like what? Scott read. Buffering. Loading. Reconnecting. The pause was painful for the werewolf. “Come on, damnit!” It looks like someone’s behind you! It read. “What?” Scott quickly switched his camera to his own watching the shadow behind him grow and grow.

It's Derek, who immediately snatched the adolescent by the back of his red hoodie and pulled him to his feet. he shoved him face-first against the nearby wall and held him there as he growled animalistically. “I saw you on the field!” the off-guard Scott dangled with fear as he processed his words. “Wha-what are you talking about?” he stuttered. “You shifted in front of them! If they find out what you are, they find out about me, about all of us. And then it's not just the Hunters after us, it's everyone.”

“ They didn't see anything! I s-swear, I-“ Scott paused his words as he breathed in the scent of sage. Panic spread across his young face before being replaced with rage. “Why do you smell like (Y/N)?” he growled his golden eyes shifting. With a huff, Derek sighed slamming him into the plaster again. “Why do you care?”

“Stay away from (Y/N)!” he ordered before falling to the ground. “Keep out of mine and (Y/N) business Scott.” Scott slowly pulled himself back up feeling his bones click and crack. “she’s not yours.” He argued watching the older wolf step towards the window. “Wanna bet on that?”

Tuesday, September 7th

the next day at school, Scott started his Derek homework, getting out of the Friday night game. The teen’s sweaty body replayed the words from the older wolf. His smell also played on his mind. Why (Y/N) Why his new co-worker? Was it to keep an eye on him? to threaten him? Scott knew for sure Derek couldn’t have true feelings towards her. he was certain he didn’t have emotions. As Scott and Coach walked through the boy's locker room and into the office, Coach was completely confused and irritated by what Scott has just told him. “What do you mean, you can't play the game Friday night?”

Scott stood in the door frame gawkily, knowing that he has no real good reason for backing out that wouldn’t sound foolish to the Coach. sore muscles would never work. Maybe he could break a bone. “ I mean... I can't play the game Friday night...” Finstock’s eyes continued to blink rapidly with confusion. “You can't wait to play the game Friday night!”

“No, Coach. I can't play the game tomorrow night.”

“...I'm not following.”

“I'm having some... personal issues.”

“Is it a girl?” technically yes. A girl and a woman. One he knew he had strong feelings towards, the other he saw as a cool older sister he wanted to desperately protect. “Is it a guy?” Again, technically yes. A broody old werewolf with a problem with a boy trying to get on with his life. Potentially threatening said the older sister figure. “You know, our goalie, Danny, is gay...”

“Yeah, I know, Coach, but that's not it.”

“You don't think Danny's a good-looking guy?”

“I... think he's good-looking. But I-I-I like girls.”

“What, is it drugs? Are you doing meth? Because I had a brother that was addicted to meth. You should have seen what it did to his teeth! They were all cracked and rotted. it was disgusting.”

“My God-- what happened to him?”

“He got veneers! Is-is that what this is about? Are you afraid of getting hurt, McCall?

“ No... I'm... having some issues dealing with aggression...” technically not a lie.

“Well, here's the good news! That's why you play lacrosse! Problem solved. Listen, McCall, part of playing the first line is taking on the responsibility of being the first line. Now, if you can't shoulder that responsibility, then you're back on the bench until you're ready. McCall... play the game.”

Scott finally gave up on his eccentric coach, he marched down the student-filled halls palms sweating with panic. His phone rang the annoying tone rattling his ears. his mother.

Got the night off! Coming to see you play! So excited!!

Before he allowed his rage to take over, Scott pulled his head up meeting the chocolate brown eyes of Allison. Her sweet smile quickly made the worried and panic vanish. “Hey,” she smiled twirling her curls between her nimble fingers. “Hey,” he breathed. She looked down at his hands, seeing the small communication device. “Busy?” Scott watched confused, she directed to his phone as he nervously stammered out a response. “No, no, it's just, uh, my mom. She's nothing.” Allison’s eyes shot up with surprise before Scott finally realised what he had spoken. “I mean, it's nothing. Uh, I'm never busy for you.” Her smile momentarily returned. “I like the sound of that. I have to run to French class, but I wanted you to know that I'm coming to see you play tomorrow.” Scott processed the latest information. Another person he cared about to worry about. “You are?”

He knew he should have been happy to know the girl of his dreams was actually interested in his game. However, with the newfound rage bomb that was the wolf inside him. “And we're all going out afterwards…you, me, Lydia, Jackson... It's gonna be great. Tell Stiles to come, too. Uh, save me a seat at lunch. I gotta go!” as her small frame swayed down the hall the dark soft fabric of her jacket took his interest. The last time he had seen that jacket was that previous Friday hung up with Derek standing underneath like the creep Scott believed he was. Something was different about the jacket its once sweet smell of Allison was now mixed with the stench of Derek.

Scott rode his bike through the forest, furiously pushing the pedals so he could go as fast as he could. As his anger kept bubbling, he made it to the Hale House remains. he hopped off his bike and threw it to the ground with a thud before he raced over to what was left of the front porch. “Derek! DEREK!”

Catching his breath, Scott looked around for a moment, taking note of a recently dug patch of Earth. The dirty smell masked the faint smell of the crimson liquid flowing through his veins. He snapped his senses to the presence of another person and turned back to find Derek, standing on the porch, staring him down like a hunter. “Stay away from her! She doesn't know anything!” he growled showing his golden orbs to the older beta hoping to look slightly intimidating. “Yeah? What if she does?”

Derek stopped walking as soon as he felt the heat from the newborn wolf. He could see how angry he was, how much this young girl was affecting him. he couldn’t tell if it was good or not. Maybe this girl could help him control himself, maybe she would be his downfall. Not just Scott’s but Derek’s too. An argent was unwelcome news. Derek knew that for sure. “You think your little buddy Stiles can just Google "Werewolves," and now you got all the answers? Is that it?”

still furious, Scott stayed silent as he tried to catch his breath. Derek continued as he slowly walked closer to Scott to make his point. “You don't get it yet, Scott, but I'm looking out for you. Not just for you but for Stiles, for Allison, for (Y/N). Think about what could happen. You're on the field... the aggression takes over... and you shift in front of everyone.” He bent down and picked up Scott's lacrosse stick from his abandoned backpack, his muscles clenching around the staff like sports equipment. “Your mom, all your friends even (Y/N). and trust me you don’t want her to hurt her. when they see you...” with a swipe of his claws, the small basket on the end of the stick was destroyed.

“Everything falls apart.”

Casually, Derek tossed the stick up into the air and from grabbing the stick from the sky to looking back down, Derek had vanished.

Wednesday, September 13th

As Derek marched through the woods, he thought back to his words towards Scott. He remembered the pain he felt from his previous encounter with the Argents. How could he let himself get so stupid to catch feelings for a woman that he wasn’t connected to? Not even her scent drew him in. It was his annoying teenage mind thinking it was cool to date an older woman. Now he looked back with many regrets knowing now how abusive and predatory the wench was being.

He was quickly drawn out of his thoughts with his senses working overtime. The metallic scent of blood wafted through his nose. Light screams filled his eardrums. He raced through the foliage, swiftly stopping at the familiar wall of poison flowers.

He knew he could never get bored of the view of her. just watching her do domestic things like she was now was almost enchanting to him. As she bent down to pick at the weeds growing in her beautiful garden, he smiled lightly thinking of himself helping her. tending to their land together like a proper domestic couple no wolves, no hunters, just them and the meadow around them. His thoughts once again switched off at the sound of screams starting once again. He inspected her intensely preying she was okay. But the screams once again stopped. Nothing came out her mouth, her radio playing Season of the Witch didn’t jump, but the screams were high-pitched and quick. He watched her place from roots into her basket, but she didn’t take them to her compost she took them inside, locking the screen door behind her once her black hair companion joined her.

The only thing he thought was still strange was the blood smell. He knew it was her blood, but she seemed fine, but her once blushing skin was cold and pale, almost dead-like.

Stiles slammed the clinic door shut shaking the clinic making (Y/N) jump with shock. “Stiles please be gentle with the door honey.” She sighed taking her vet jacket off and looping it onto her hook. “Sorry (Y/N).” he stuttered skipping over to Scott. “What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?” he asked being sure to for once talk quietly in front of (Y/N). “I found something at Derek Hale's.” the teen with the buzz-cut eyes shot open with surprise. “Are you kidding? What?” the two teens turned around looking at the beautiful goth who was currently in her own world deep in her piles of books. “There's something buried out there. I could smell blood. I don’t know who’s but your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then, you help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing because there's no way I'm not playing that game.”

The duo spun around marching towards the door. Stiles quickly stopped almost falling to the ground with a skid of his shoes. “Nice collection there (Y/N)” he commented noting the piles of books all seemed to be about some sort of cryptid or spiritual book. the woman looked up with shining eyes of excitement. “it’s a bit of a hobby I guess you can tell with the matching tats. Unknowingly to Scott, he kept the girl distracted with questions giving the robin of the duo to slip the specific book labelled Lycans and the Moon. “Well boys I’ve got to go so no offence…get out so I can lock up.” (Y/N) smiled jesting to the door Stiles had slammed open earlier. “Sorry. Have a good night (Y/N)”

Scott and Stiles drove the bumping roads towards the hospital plotting their next plan. “Dude I really don’t have a good feeling about (Y/N).” stiles confessed gripping the steering wheel. “I mean the new girl in town. We can all admit she is a dark babe from hell but come on. Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that we discover werewolves, your new girlfriend is from a family of hunters, and we just found her with piles and piles of books about supernatural creatures.” Scott breathed heavily tapping the scratched glass of the jeep. “You know stiles some people really do find it interesting.” He hoped. “Well, I hope your right Scott. Cause I hate for such a hot girl to be evil. That will make the dreams really weird.”

“I didn’t need to know that, Stiles.”

Unsure of where to go to get the information they need, Scott and Stiles wondered the halls of the hospital, the bright lights of the halls flickered the signs above. After a moment, Stiles looked up a sign for the morgue dangling just above his head. As Scott headed in, stiles wandered around like a lost puppy. “Good luck, I guess...”

As he turned his body, he focused his attention on Lydia waiting in one of the seats. He immediately got both nervous and excited to be this close to her, finally being able to make his unplanned move. “Hey, Lydia... You probably don't remember me. Um, I sit behind you in biology.” Her face contorted into confusion watching the loose teen with a twirl of her ginger locks. Lydia. “Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to... get to know each other a little better...”

Stiles quickly stopped his speech as soon as a small device pulled away from her rosy ears. “Hold on, give me a second.” She giggled to the person on the other line. Her green eyes focused on Stiles for the first time in his life. “Yeah, I didn't get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?” she mocked. The poor boy’s pale cheeks flushed pink rubbing his peach fuzz hair with embarrassment. “No. Sorry, I'll just sit...You don't care...”

Meanwhile, Scott tiptoed down the eerie morgue hall before opening the nearest door. He kept sniffing and sniffing, touching the metal handles of each coffin-like storage. Suddenly, he stopped smelling the same pine and rain scent that was buried under the dirt pile. He slowly pulled ‘jane doe’ out of her metal resting place and took a strong sniff of her decaying body. It was a match. An exact match.

“Holy God!” stiles squealed as Scott pulled the fake magazine distraction out of his pale hands. “The scent was the same.” He smiled high fiving his companion. “You sure?” the werewolf nodded his head heavily. “So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property?”

“Which means we have proof he killed the girl.”

“I say we use it.” Scott pulled Stiles down the exit hall plotting in their minds their end action plan. “Tell me something first. Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game, and he said you couldn't?” from the look on the teen’s face to him it was both. He knew he had to stop Derek, but he also wanted to play the game. “There are bite marks on the legs, Stiles! Plus, I think he’s gonna go after (Y/N) next. I mean he has the motive to harm her. She could easily pinpoint were werewolves she’s a risk.” Stiles sighed heavily rubbing his eyes from the sleep building up from the sleepless nights of research. “Dude she might be working with him for all we know. Look let’s just keep this simple for now get Derek in jail and play that game.” Scott nodded his head as the buzzcut boy wrapped his long arms around his shoulder. “we're gonna need a shovel.”

Stiles and Scott spied on Derek as he walked out of the Hale House ruins towards his Camaro. He clutched his mobile phone against his ear smiling brightly with multiple laughs coming from his usual emotionless mouth. “dude see, maybe he actually likes (Y/N).” Scott whispered eavesdropping on the conversation. “are you sure you’re okay with getting yourself there?” he reassured unlocking his car. “I know you said you’d be fine, but I don’t want you having to sit alone at a bar until I get there.” the dark-haired wolf sat comfortably in his seat before shutting the door. “I can’t wait either. I’ll see you tomorrow night Miss Williams.”

As the expensive vehicle left the woods, the duo marched their way to the mound of earth by the side of the chard ruins. “dude, it’s all an act! There’s no way that he has a genuinely nice cell in his body. Hess probably scoping his next target. he’s coming back later to dig a new grave.” The buzz-cut teen grabbed his shovel attacking the ground with the little strength he had buried in his arms. “or maybe it’s the other way round. Maybe she has him right where she wants him to strike. Get hunter of the year for killing the last Hale wolf.”

As they finally finished digging, they found a mud-soaked linen wrap, secured tightly with a twine rope. Scott took a strong whiff sensing the change in the smells around him. “Wait... Something's different.” The once rain-filled grave was now just a wet dog, exactly like the wet rooms at his work.

“Just keep going.”

“What if he comes back?”

“Then we get the hell out of here.”

“What if he catches us?”

“I have a plan for that.”

“ ...Which is?”

“You run one way. I run the other. Whoever he catches first? Too bad.”

“I hate that plan.”

When they both looked down, they saw several twine rope strings poking out of the earth, like little worms wiggling in the dirt. the two knelt down as they brushed the soil away with their bare hands. As Stiles sluggishly untied the bundle struggling with the military-style knots’ “Hurry!” Scott shouted adding nothing to help his friend with the impossible knots. “I'm trying. Did he have to tie the thing in, like, nine hundred knots?” Scott abruptly pushed aside his friend and swiftly finished the job.

“...What the hell is that?” stiles muttered. As the fabric fell to the bottom of the grave, stiles and Scott jumped back in fear. A black, scruffy cut-up wolf revealed itself from the bundle, its dead eyes open almost staring at the two teens. “It's a wolf.” They quickly left the grave panting heavily from the sheer shock of the creature. but before Stiles could ponder any more. “Yeah, I can see that. I thought you said you smelled blood, as in human blood?”

“I told you something was different...”

“This doesn't make sense.”

The Batman and Robin duo worked fast to recover their work, pushing each bit of dirt mud and worm back into place. suddenly, Stiles saw a purple flicker moving gracefully in the wind. “What's wrong?” Scott asked watching his daydreaming companion stare the purple flower down like a criminal. “You see that flower?” he slowly pulled himself from the ground lightly stroking the petals. “I think it's wolfsbane.” The teen pulled the plant from the ground noticing the roots hadn’t settled in the new soil yet. It hadn’t been there long enough to settle. “What's that?”

“Uh... haven't you ever seen The Wolf Man? Lon Chaney, Junior? Claude Rains? The original, classic Werewolf movie? No? You are so unprepared for this.” Stiles quickly clutched the end of the roots inspecting the exact same rope from the bundle attached to the ends. He gradually followed the material trail going round and round the grave in a spiral formation. With a sceptical expression, Scott watched him closely the smell of the flower irritating the wolf’s senses like an itch. Trying to ignore it, the wolf teen looked back down at his devolved brethren squealing at the changed form. The same dirty hair and deathly eyes stared back at him like the night he was turned. “oh!” stiles screamed, joining his friend with an exact terror expression.

Thursday, September 13th

Once again, the two teens watched the Hale house get inspected by the police including Stiles’ own father. The black-haired werewolf glared daggers towards the two as the handcuffs scratched his wrists like thorns. Derek stepped down into the police car finally ending his angered stare. Scott slowly watched Stiles get up from his hiding spot sauntering over like he owned the crime scene. “No!” he growled stiles finally made it to the police car and with a slide of his body he sat down with the criminal.

“Okay, just so you know, I'm not afraid of you.” He breathed. Derek looked up slowly his hard gaze. He knew the teen was lying. He didn’t even have to listen to his heart. The sweat and moving eyes gave it away. ”...Okay, maybe I am. Doesn't matter. I just wanna know something. The girl you killed. She was a Werewolf. She was a different kind, wasn't she? I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf, and I know Scott can't do that. Is that why you killed her?”

The older man sighed heavily leaning closer to the cage-like window. “Why are you so worried about me when it's your friend who's the problem? When he shifts on the field, what do you think they're gonna do, huh? Just keep cheering him on. I can't stop him from playing, but you can... And trust me-- you want to.”

Before Stiles could reply to the worrying speech. Suddenly, the energetic teen was pulled out of the vehicle, the grumble of his father entering his ears. “Ow. Ow. Ow.” He pushed his son to the end of the lot the leaves distressed under his dragging feet. ”There. Stand.” He groaned.

“What the hell do you think you're doing???” Noah growled watching his son kick the foliage under him. “I'm just trying to help!”

“Okay, well, how 'bout you help me understand exactly how you came upon this?”

“We were looking for Scott's inhaler...”

“Which he dropped when?”

“The other night...”

“The other night... when you were out here, looking for the first half of the body?”

“Yes.”

“The night that you told me you were alone, and Scott was at home?”

“Yes....No!”

And there it was. The answer Noah was looking for. “Oh, crap...” his child sighed. “So, you lied to me.” Noah exhaled.

“That depends on how you define "lying..."”

“Well, I define it as "not telling the truth." How do you define it?”

“Um... "reclining your body in a horizontal position?"”

“Get the hell out of here.”

“ Absolutely.”

Stiles and Scott sped out of the woods in the battered Jeep, Scott doing whatever he could to find the reason for the wolfsbane at the grave. “I can't find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial.” He sighed locking his phone with a grunt. Something didn’t feel right to the wolf. “Just keep looking. Maybe it's like a ritual or something? Like, maybe they bury you as a wolf.” He chewed on his cheek biting back a snarking comment towards his friend, his rage bubbling. “Or, maybe it's like a special skill, you know? Like, something you have to learn?” Scott rolled his brown eyes. “I'll put it on my "To Do" list, right underneath "figuring out how the hell I'm playing this game tonight."” He growled. Stiles looked swiftly towards his friend watching the golden eyes of his wolf form show through. “Maybe it's different for girl Werewolves... we can look in (Y/N) book when we get back to your place.”

“Okay, stop it!”

The driver slowed the jeep down lightly, Scott panting in the passenger seat worried him greatly. “Stop what?” he muttered worry building up in his body. “Stop saying "Werewolves!" Stop enjoying this so much! Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice grew deeper as he growled a NO towards Stiles, he doubled over with pain, like electricity shocking through his veins. “No, I'm not. I'm so far from being okay.” He felt his fangs and fur grow, cracking and groaning coming from his body. Stiles quickly pulled his bag from the back seat almost having a rare light bulb moment. He pulled out the violet plant from the night before wafting the scent towards the growling teen. “You kept it?” Scott screamed watching the driver pull over with shaking hands. “What was I supposed to do with it???”

As soon as the car was in park, Stiles grabbed his backpack and launched himself out of the Jeep, running toward the edge of the woods and tossing the bag as far as he could throw it to get as much distance away from Scott as possible. He prayed it work not wanting his best friend to lose his control in the middle of the day with joggers, hikers and dog walkers hiding in the woods. Once it was out of eyesight, Stiles pitched his head back and breathed deeply before turning back toward the Jeep with a huff. “Okay, we're good, you can…Scott?”

The werewolf was already gone.

“Scott???”

Panicked, Stiles ended up speeding down the road through the timbers as he called the police on speakerphone. ”Stiles, you know you can't call the dispatch line when I'm on duty.” Dispatch groaned not wanting to hear the latest story from the sheriff’s son. “I just need to know if you've gotten any odd calls...?”

“Odd how?”

“Uh, like, an odd person, or...”

Stiles struggled to produce an example that didn’t channel a werewolf break out. “A dog-like individual roaming the streets...?” The dispatcher, out of patience, put an end to their conversation quickly and sternly. “I'm hanging up on you now.” Stiles, panicked and desperate to find Scott before he hurts somebody, tried to get her to reconsider but the ringing of the hang-up sound stopped his multiple waits from spilling out his mouth. Stiles knew he would be going to Allison. But he hoped he would find him before anything could happen to the young girl.

Noah sat down with a grunt in the interrogation room watching the suspect do the same with his hands still cuffed behind him. “okay Mr. Hale, If you are innocent in all of this then let’s make this as simple as possible. I’m assuming you know the drill in these sorts of interrogations. I ask the questions you answer. Can we get started?” Derek nodded his head with a low Yes sheriff, like a kicked dog. “thank you.”

The sheriff opened up the coffee-coloured file switching on the small desk light that barely had a working bulb. Derek sat with a shaking leg eyeing the time with a deep sigh. “problem Mr hale.” Noah asked taking not of a deep sigh. “no sir just had a date with a really nice girl. I was surpassed to be there right about now.” Noah nodded his head feeling slightly saddened knowing there was a nice girl waiting alone for him possibly thinking she had been stood up. “sorry to hear that. Okay, where were you the night of the murder?”

“I was driving down to beacon hills to follow my sister. She had come down here for some reason. but she didn’t tell me what the reason was. I also wanted to check on my uncle in the hospital.”

“Does your sister have any contact details we can use to get a hold of her?” Derek took a big gulp of air taking the time to process he couldn’t say his sister was alive anymore. He knew he had to get over it quickly, there was too much to worry about to mourn. “that won’t be needed. She’s dead.” He stated holding the emotions waiting to spill from his body. “she is jane doe.” Noah quickly noted down his statement messaging his colleagues the new information so they could act on it. “so, you mean to tell me the legs we have in our morgue are your sisters? And you didn’t think to come to the police with this information?” the wolf rolled his fern green eyes the anger bubbling. “well, it’s not like you guys tracked down the last murderer of my family members. I wonder if it’s the same person that killed Laura that set the fire?”

The snide comment quickly shut Noah up remembering the hale fire like it was yesterday. The smell of burnt flesh would never leave his memory. “if I could go back and redo that entire case I would Derek, but I can’t. I’ve only got what the last sheriff has. But right now, Laura’s case deserves to be closed. Tell me what happened that night.” Derek leant back in his seat the clock ticking and ringing in his ear. He had definitely missed his date with (Y/N). he was gonna have to do something really big to apologise. “I stayed at the motel in town for the night I didn’t see the point in going to find her at night. I woke up the next morning and tried to call her cell, but she didn’t answer. I knew she would either be with our Uncle Peter or at our old house, so I went to the house first. I went for a walk around the woods, and I found two teenagers looking for an inhaler. I gave it to them and went on my way. Next thing I knew I was looking down at my chopped-up big sister on the ground. Like roadkill.”

Derek took a slow and deep breath taming the monster dripping out slightly. “I saw nobody else other than your annoying son and his even more annoying friend. I didn’t see anyone. I took her and I buried her. I assumed she got attacked by a mountain lion in the woods. Our mum always told us to not play in the woods alone. I guess she forgot the rules.” The sheriff finally finished taking notes circling in his own personal notebook to ground Stiles when he got off work. “well, Mr. Hale, I’m gonna need some DNA and ill have to keep you in overnight. Standard procedure. I’m sorry.”

As the other police took Derek to his cell for the night Noah continued inspecting his mobile phone. He skimmed through the few contacts noting his usual contact was the care facility in the hospital and the contact under the label Miss Williams. He clicked the contact number copying it number by number into his own phone before he put the phone to his ear his orbs shot up in shock. The contact had changed to (Y/N)’s saved contact. He quickly hung up.

(Y/N) sat worriedly, Dressed in her best clothes. a navy-blue velvet dress layered with multiple layers of blue, black fishnets and black boots. Her hair was up wrapped in a matching colour bandana and large constellation earrings dangling from her lobes. “another drink miss?” the bartender asked sensing the sadness radiating off the young woman. “no need I’m heading out.” She muttered paying her tab and quickly necking her shot. “if a guy comes in asking about me tell him to take a hike.” As she sauntered through the bar ignoring the catcalls and whistles from the drunk creeps she slammed the door with a sigh, forcing the tears back in her eyes.

(Y/N) finally made it home locking her front door, leaving Derek’s leather jacket inside her car in shame. She left used and played like a puppy on a lead following its owner. She knew she was new to romance, love and anything to do with dating. But she knew it wasn’t meant to feel like that. Like someone had stabbed a dagger through her heart and twisted it. she slumped down on the sofa grabbing hold of the surgical equipment by her coffee table with a grunt, she place the needle inside her skin sighing as she felt her blood oozing from the new wound.

She knew she had to stop sooner or later, but she had a duty, and it was a duty she was happy to do. for her family. It was a distraction. A big cloud over her head to mask the events of the night. (Y/N) looked towards the moonlight peaking between her voiles, the night sky finishing her state of bliss and within a minute of her head hitting the back of the furniture she drifted into a slumber, With no date in sight.

Friday, September 15th

Dressed in his lacrosse uniform Scott hung up his bookbag in his locker when his superhuman senses started flaring once again, allowing him to hear the various noises in the locker room with complete clarity. This included the sound of Jackson and another player whispering to each other, though their words were still difficult to make out to the wolf with the added sounds, such as the locker doors slamming shut and equipment thumping against each other. Scott turned to look at them to try to eavesdrop.

“ ...McCall...”

“ ...only defence...”

“ ...not McCall...”

Jackson looked over to see Scott looking at them, and Scott, feeling caught, looked back at his book bag and tried to keep their conversation out of his mind. He reluctantly grabbed his pads and sat on the bench to put on his shin guards, looking back over at Jackson and the others talking, only to be distracted by the sight of Stiles, who smiled when they make eye contact. “ You gonna try to convince me not to play?” he grumbled. “I just hope you know what you're doing...”

“If I don't play, I lose first line and Allison.” He interrupted. This statement made Stiles a little wound up, and he replied in a loud tone of voice. “Allison's not going anywhere... and it's one game that you really don't need to play.”

“I wanna play!” Stiles looked at him as though to say, "Really?" as Scott continued his rant of rage. “I wanna be on the team. I wanna go out with Allison. I want a semi-freaking normal life! Do you get that?” Scott, embarrassed by how dramatic he was being, looked down at the floor, and Stiles sighed before sitting down next to him on the bench, his knees facing the opposite direction from Scott's. “Just try not to worry too much while you're out there, okay?” Stiles considered his own words for a moment before adding onto them. “Or get too angry...”

“I got it.”

“Or stressed...”

“ Yeah, I got it.”

“Don't think about Allison being in the stands...” Scott looked up slightly as he began to actually think about Allison being in the stands, against Stiles' instructions. “or that her father's trying to kill you... or that Derek's trying to kill you... or the girl he killed... or that you might kill (Y/N)...” Scott looked at him with an offended expression, but Stiles was on a roll and didn’t immediately notice. “if a Hunter doesn't kill you first-“ Stiles finally saw the hurt and angry look on Scott's face and instantly ended that train of thought. “I'm sorry. I'll stop. Good luck...?”

As the bleachers filled with people (Y/N) followed Melissa down the steps eyeing teenagers and parents so she didn’t step on anyone or anything. “you know you still haven’t told me what happened last night?” Melissa spoke dropping her body down on a seat, hugging her coat for warmth against the bitter cold. “not much to tell I got ditched.” (Y/N) sighed joining her. “he seemed so sweet too. He fixed my car, took me for coffee heck he even called me the night before to make sure we were still on. Who the fuck does that to someone.” (Y/N) took a deep breath as the teams rushed out onto the field. “sorry I’m ranting when we should be watching Scott.” Melissa looked towards the goth girl; her painted eyes full of sorrow. “don’t be silly. Your hurt. I mean from what you told me he seemed like a catch.” She smiled lightly remembering his charming grin and forest scent. “yeah well… I guess it was all bullshit.” As the whistle blew for game on the two women turned towards the field.

“Set!” the ref blew his whistle, and the players set off into the first play of the game, with Jackson easily scooping up the ball and making his way down the field. Scott and the rest of the starting teammates followed him to back him up. Scott ran quickly down the field and held up his stick to indicate to Jackson that he was open for a pass, but instead, he passed.

on the bench, Stiles continued to anxiously gnaw on his lacrosse glove as he watched the game progress, groaning when Scott was clearly purposely ignored by his teammates. “Mm, come on!” ignoring Scott once again, each teammate passed to another player that was guarded rather than Scott, who was wide open; the player missed the catch, and a member of the opposing team caught it instead and ran in the opposite direction down the field, leaving a frustrated Scott holding his arms out in a huff... melissa looked at her only child worried. “I hope he’s okay.” (Y/N) muttered.

Beacon Hills managed to get the ball again, with a player catching the ball and passing it back to Jackson. However, Jackson slipped from concentration causing the ball to fall out of the net on his lacrosse stick. Scott's eyes widen in surprise when he saw the ball had fallen onto the grass nearby, and he realized he had a chance to grab it and actually participate in the game finally. However, Jackson clocked onto Scott’s plan making a B-line for the ball.

Just as Scott was about to reach the ball, Jackson caught up with him and shoved him aside hard so that he was able to regain possession of the ball once again. Scott hit the ground with enough force that he rolled across the field. Melissa gasped and covered her mouth with her hands in shock and sympathy as (Y/N) carried on watching with annoyance. It was clear the other teammates were bullying him on the field. and there was nothing either her or Melissa could do. Scott looked furious as he watched Jackson launch the ball into the net, scoring the first goal of the game. His goal.

The crowd in the bleachers started to stand and cheer, while Stiles watched apprehensively, afraid that the unfair treatment towards Scott would cause him to inadvertently shift on the field. Coach, however, was thrilled by the fact that they scored the first goal of the game and screamed from the side-lines, completely ignoring his job as a teacher to stop bullying. So, no different than usual. “That's it, Jackson! Get fired up! Fired up!” Jackson high-fived one of his fellow teammates when he caught Scott's eye from downfield and smirked, leaving Scott looking deflated. On the bench, Stiles saw this exchange and sighed deeply and dramatically before muttering under his breath “No...”

Lydia was excitedly cheering in the bleachers, and Allison was smiling and trying to keep up with the game as well. Lydia turned to Allison and grabbed her by the wrist as she tried to hype up her friend. She picked up a sign she made and had her new friend help her hold it up. The sign read "WE LUV U JACKSON" in black and red letters. A typical popular girl is mad for her asshole boyfriend. “WOOOOOO!” Scott saw Allison cheering Jackson on from the field and immediately got jealous, which didn’t escape Stiles' eyes. Stiles grimaced and muttered under his breath again. “Brutal...” Scott was staring at Allison with a look that seemed both betrayed and hurt, and Stiles immediately got a bad feeling, especially when he saw Scott grit his growing teeth and ran back onto the field. “Oh, this is not gonna be good...”

In the middle of the field, Jackson, Danny, and several other players are huddled together to whisper to each other. “Only to me,” Jackson ordered puffing his chest out like the top dog he portrayed himself to be. Danny scoffed, not understanding the point of this petty behaviour. But who was he to question his captain? “But what if he's open?” Jackson gave Danny a hard look as Scott eavesdropped on his plotting. “Who's the captain? You, or me?” Danny, wanting Jackson to see sense, pleaded with his best friend. “Jackson, come on, dude. I just wanna win-“

“We will win.” Danny continued to argue, but Jackson cut him off. ”What did I say?” Jackson got into Danny's face to emphasize his point. “Huh? What. Did. I. Say?” Danny, realizing Jackson was not going to budge and that they were wasting time, finally conceded to Jackson's demands and sighed. “Don't pass to McCall.”

Jackson thumped Danny hard in the chest with his gloved hand before they scattered to their various positions on the field. Scott was still standing several yards away from where they were huddled together, distracted by what he had just heard. After a moment, Scott's eyes flash gold, and he straightened his helmet with a determined expression before running to get into position. Scott crouched in position with his head down, a low growling noise coming out of his drooling mouth, where his fangs seem to be extended. The referee frowned in concern and confusion as he looked over to Scott. “You okay, kid?”

Scott, unable to talk out of fear of further transforming, simply nodded his head. Jackson caught their brief encounter and watched him curiously for a long moment, especially when the referee, who had walked to the centre of the field, turned back to give Scott one last confused look. A player from the other team looked at Scott warily from behind him, clearly disturbed by the low growling sound that continued to come from Scott's throat to the point where he backed up several paces to put some space between them. “what’s wrong with Scott?” (Y/N) muttered noticing everything that he was doing. The panting the grunting, his hot breath pooling around his helmet like he was on fire. “I have no idea.” Stiles wrapped his hands around his neck before anxiously rubbing his neck, becoming more unsure of his plan to allow Scott to play by the moment and wondering if maybe Derek might have been right to keep Scott off the field. he didn’t like admitting that.

Scott looked back over once again at his brown-eyed girlfriend, and even though it was obvious to everyone else that Allison was only holding the sign for Lydia, Scott's eyes flashed gold for a brief second before he clenched his jaw and returned his attention to the game.

“Down! Set!”

The players all got into position, and when the ref blew the whistle, the game began once again. Scott skilfully dodged the three players from the opposing team who tried to tackle him, keeping hold of the ball the entire time. Scott continued to duck, weave, and spin around the other players at a speed that is very quick for a human but not obviously supernatural. In the stands, Allison's eyes widened when she saw him prepare to shoot his shot, and the crowd went wild when Scott easily threw the ball into the goal. Melissa and (Y/N) jumped up and down excitedly. “YEAH!!!!!”

“McCall! Pass. To. McCall!” the coach shouted. On the field, Jackson was furious and clenched his jaw tightly, making it obvious that he was unhappy with the attention being on Scott. The referee stepped up to the two players in the standoff for possession of the ball “Set!” The ref blew his whistle, and the two players’ stalemate once snatched it. Unfortunately for the player, he got right into Scott's line of sight and was horrified when he saw Scott, whose eyes are blazing yellow of sunlight and fangs were out as he growled menacingly under his breath. Scared, the player weakly tossed the ball, which Scott caught easily, causing the team to cheer as he ran toward the Beacon Hills team's goal.

Stiles, still on the bench, continued to gnaw on the finger of one of his gloved hands when Coach, dumbfounded by this turn of events, sat down next to the buzzcut teen with a confused expression. “Did the opposing team just deliberately pass us the ball?” the teacher asked shocked. “Yes, I believe so, Coach.” Scott rushed down the field, ducking to avoid the blows from the opposing players and deftly zigzagging out of their way. Coach smiled wryly, though Stiles was still extremely anxious about how Scott seemed to be walking a very fine line in terms of controlling his lycanthropy. His mother and co-worker looked beyond confused the once stuttering, accident-prone boy was now racing through the field like a cheetah in the savannah.

Scott took his shot, throwing the ball so hard that it busted right through the net of an opposing player's lacrosse stick net and hit the goal like a blazing comet. The score was now 5-5 with thirty-nine seconds to spare in the final quarter. In the stands, everyone was standing and cheering with their arms in the air, and even Allison’s emotionless father couldn’t help but be impressed, especially when he saw how excited Allison was compared to her old nervous mousy self. But something didn’t seem right about the boy hopelessly in love with his little girl. Or maybe there was something about him that interested the secret hunter. “Goal! YES! YES! There you go!”

Suddenly, Scott looked panicked as he stood in the middle of the field, barely concealing the fact that his eyes are changing from chocolate to honey. “There you go, McCall!” The coach from the opposing team came over and lightly smacked Coach Finstock's shoulder with the back of his hand to get his attention, making it clear that he thought to think this last goal should count. Coach Finstock, exasperated, scoffed and argued against him waving his arms around. “What? The ball's in the net.” He laughed. Behind him, Stiles echoed Coach Finstock's sentiment. “Ball's in the net!” The coach blew his whistle; they agreed that the goal was fair. Scott, still panicking, got into position in the middle of the field as the referee once again set up the standoff between Jackson and a player from the opposing team. “Down!”

As Jackson and the other player locked eyes, the opposing player couldn’t help but question him. ”hey, what the hell's up with your teammate, man? What's he on?” Jackson frowned clearly unhappy about Scott's excellent performance despite his best efforts to keep him from having an active role in the game. He knew he was being challenged by the team. Scott was becoming the top dog and Jackson defiantly didn’t like this new dynamic. “I don't know...” Jackson considered his words and muttered a clarifying remark under his breath. “Yet.”

“Set!” Jackson and the opposing player crouch down to stand off for possession of the ball, which ended with the latter winning and running down the field. However, he accidentally dropped the ball, which Scott scooped up before running the other way. However, his vision turned crimson as the transformation into his Werewolf self took over, forcing Scott to use the very limited control he still had to try to keep himself away from the other players. he froze in place, unsure of what to do next as he growled under his breath at a volume that seemed to be steadily increasing. Stiles, who had been closely watching Scott the entire game, stood up to get a better look. “No, no... Scott, no, no!”

The clock showed that there were seventeen more seconds left in the game, and the opposing players were surrounding Scott like prey. Melissa had her hands clasped with (Y/N)’s both women muttering hopes for the teen. “Come on, come on, come on...” Behind her, Allison was also staring at her boyfriend intensely as she quietly cheered him on. “You can do it, Scott. You can do it, Scott.” Allison's murmured encouragement caused Scott's sensitive superhuman hearing to lock in on her. “You can do it, Scott...” Allison's voice seemed to bring Scott back to himself enough to realize that there were only seven seconds left in the game and counting.

The goalie seemed terrified by the sight of Scott staring at him with his intense buttery eyes, and just as two other players from the other team started rushing toward Scott from each side, Scott twisted at the waist and put all of his strength into tossing the ball toward the goal, which flew with such force that the goalie dodged it rather than trying to catch it. The referee blew his whistle just as the buzzer sounded, leading all of the supporters of the Beacon Hills Cyclones to leap to their feet and cheer ecstatically, thrilled to see the final score was 6:5 with Beacon Hills winning the game. All because of animal rage. Stiles jumped up with his arms raised in the air, “Yes! Ha!” Stiles lowered his arms and sighed in relief that the game managed to end in a win without Scott hurting or killing anyone. Jackson would have been fine but anyone else would have been very bad for the energetic teen.

“Oh, my God!” Scott was still standing in the middle of the field, seemingly dumbstruck by the fact that he had just won the game. he's finally brought himself back to reality when he suddenly dropped his stick with a clang. He stripped his right hand from his glove to find that, despite his eyes and teeth returning to normal, his fingernails were extending into claws, indicating that he was losing control once again. Not wanting to expose his secret to the crowd, he made a beeline toward the locker rooms.

excited to congratulate Scott on a job well done, Allison jumped down from the bench. She looked around in an effort to find him, and her smile dimmed slightly in confusion when she watched him running toward the school. her father, having just made it to the side-lines, stopped and watched with interest as Scott ran away, continuing to do so as Allison rushed after Scott to see what was going on, a suspicious and curious expression forming on his face.

Stiles was still seated on the bench, albeit by himself, as he continued to relax now that the danger of Scott turning and exposing himself as a Werewolf had seemingly passed. Hopefully. However, behind him in the now-abandoned bleachers, the sheriff was on the phone with someone. “Uh-huh.” Melissa and (Y/N) looked around for Scott confused about his disappearance. The young goth girl clutched her picnic basket full of celebratory goodies with a sigh. “stiles!” she called gaining the attention of the boy. “where’s Scott?” stiles shrugged his shoulders turning back to his father as he finished his phone call.

“Dad, what's wrong?”

Melissa and (Y/N) wandered back towards the car park still confused as to where Scott had gone. “don’t worry Mel, I’m sure he’s just out hiding with his new girlfriend.” She joked nudging her friend to try and make her smile. “oh god. I wanted him to come home with a trophy, not a pregnant teenager.” With a bright red blush forming (Y/N) shoved the baked treats into the nurse’s arms as she laughed. “don’t be silly. He’s a good kid and you know it. I’m gonna head home for the night.” Melissa nodded her head taking a sniff of the pastries and cakes. “at least save one for Scott.” She shouted as she walked towards her car with a giggle. As she bent down to unlock her car, a figure watched her from the stand, feeling the sadness radiating off her heart.

Derek couldn’t have felt more guilty about what he had done. If he had just trusted the police to do their job, he would have had the girl of his dreams smiling and laughing with him. now all he had was a heartbroken girl who he knew would not want to hear or see him for now. But he would come back. He couldn’t let her go. To him, she was a rare jewel. A diamond among glass. Her dark-coloured clothing and makeup covered a rainbow of personality inside her. but it also shadowed secrets he wanted to unveil. He slowly turned his attention back to the field as the captain of the winning team bent down to grab Scott’s abandoned glove. Derek’s shadowy figure spooked Jackson locking eyes with a serious stare and a panicked one staring back. The beta male pulled away from the field following the night mist into the woods.

The drive back to her home seemed longer than normal as the local radio dragged on. The news of the lacrosse win switched quickly to the weather, (Y/N) turned it up excitedly. “the next few days we expect a heavy thunderstorm to blow over beacon hills we recommend people stay inside and out the open fields. Other than that, enjoy the lightning and have a good night and we’ll be back at 6 am tomorrow.” (Y/N) smiled brightly at the news. As much as she hated electricity. The lightning would be a great distraction, from the dark-haired man she thought was the one.

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