New Years Eve

New Years Eve

Chandler Bing x Reader

TW: Janice lol

»»————-　⚜　————-««

     "So you want to do a no date pact?" (Y/N) asks with doubtful look on her face.

"Yes." Chandler nods aggressively. "No dates. Just us seven."

"You really think you can pull that off?" (Y/N) quips again, not believing Chandler will be able to go through with his proposition.

"Okay, you know what, (Y/N)," Chandler begins slightly aggressive. "I don't need your negative comments, alright? Now who's with me? I say this year, no dates, we make a pact. Just the seven of us. Dinner." He tries his hardest to make it sound appealing.

The rest of the group mumbles in agreement, not truly that interested in his idea. Chandler scoffs, "You know, I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm." He looks at them slightly offended.

Everyone sarcastically begins cheering louder to please his ego. He smiles gratefully and (Y/N) can't help but shake her head in amusement as she takes a sip of her coffee. She doesn't think this pact will last more than a day. Maybe less.

Especially with how things seem to be going for Phoebe and the guy she called out while singing onstage. She smirks and leans back to look up at Chandler, "Still think this whole no date pact thing is gonna work?"

"Oh shut up." He grumbles.

"Hey, that guys going home with more than a note." Joey chimes in, clearly impressed with Phoebe.

(Y/N) snorts out a laugh and sends Chandler a sarcastic thumbs up. The man simply rolls his eyes and goes to sit on the other side of the couch, farthest away from (Y/N).

             »»————-　⚜　————-««

     About two hours later, (Y/N), Rachel, Monica, Ross, Chandler, and Phoebe all sit in Monica's apartment decorating the tree to make it look more festive for the party. (Y/N) and Chandler begin to detangle the golden tinsel as Rachel looks back at Phoebe.

"Pheebs, I can't believe he hasn't kissed you yet. I mean God, by my sixth date with Paolo, I mean he had already named both my breasts!" Rachel laughs lightly until she realizes what she just said. She pauses, "Ooh. Did I just share too much?"

Ross scrunches his eyebrows, "Just a smidge."

"David's like, y'know, Scientist Guy. He's very methodical." Phoebe explains.

"Well, I think it's romantic." (Y/N) smiles.

Monica nods in agreement as Phoebe begins to light up with excitement, "Me too! Oh! Did you ever see An Officer and a Gentleman?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's kinda like the guy I went to see that with. Except, except he-he's smarter, and gentler, and sweeter... I just- I just wanna be with him all the time. Day and night, and night and day... and special occasions..." She begins to trail off, giving a not so discreet side eye to Chandler.

The man throws his hands up, "Wait a minute, wait a minute, I see where this is going, you're gonna ask him to New Year's, aren't you? You're gonna break the pact. She's gonna break the pact." He announces, looking around at everyone.

Phoebe gasps, "No, no, no, no, no, no." She says getting on her knees on top of the couch. She looks at all of her friends and then gives in. "Yeah, could I just?"

They all collectively gasp, everyone besides seemingly Chandler. (Y/N) looks at him accusatorially as he nods his head to the side, "Yeah, 'cause I already asked Janice."

(Y/N) furrows her eyebrows, not expecting Janice the be the one he ended up asking. While she does feel an extreme sense of bragging coming on for her calling that the no date pact wasn't going to work, this new revelation almost made bragging not worth it.

"What?!" Monica asks, has agape.

"C'mon, this was a pact! This was your pact!" Ross says incredulously.

Chandler shrugs, "I snapped, okay? I couldn't handle the pressure and I snapped."

"Yeah, but Janice?" (Y/N) raises an eyebrow. "That was like the worst breakup in history!"

"I'm not saying it was a good idea, I'm saying I snapped!" Chandler defends.

"Clearly." (Y/N) mutters irritatedly.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Chandler asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Nothing." She replies quietly.

Suddenly the door flies open to reveal an elf Joey with shoes that jingle as he walks. Everyone stares at the man, mouth wide. (Y/N) gasps and begins to cackle as Chandler smirks.

"Hi. Hi, sorry I'm late."

"Too many jokes... must mock Joey!" Chandler exclaims happily.

"Nice shoes, huh? " Joey asks as he wiggles his foot, making the bells jingle once more.

(Y/N) can't believe what she's watching, "You're killing me." She continues laughing.

Rachel looks in between (Y/N) and Chandler, "It's like having two of you." She says to Chandler.

Marcel, Ross's monkey jumps over into the kitchen and knocks over multiple kitchen appliances. Monica looks at her brother exasperatedly, "Ross! He's playing with my spatulas again!"

"Okay, look, he's not gonna hurt them, right?" Ross counters, defending his monkey.

"Do you always have to bring him here?"

"I didn't wanna leave him alone. Alright? We- we had our first fight this morning. I think it has to do with my working late. I said some things that I didn't mean, and he- he threw some feces..." Ross explains upset, making (Y/N) have to hold in her laughter again. She loves the chaos her friends  emanate.

"Y'know, if you're gonna work late, I could look in on him for you." Chandler offers.

(Y/N) scoffs, "Chandler taking care of something. Never thought I'd live to see the day." She smirks playfully.

"You're on one today, you know that?" He quips back.

(Y/N) shrugs happily, satisfied to know she successfully got under Chandler's skin.

            »»————-　⚜　————-««

     "So tell me something. What does the phrase 'no date pact' mean to you?" Ross asks harshly to Monica, who just revealed she got a date for the party.

"I'm sorry, okay. It's just that Chandler has somebody, and Phoebe has somebody- I thought I'd ask Fun Bobby." Monica explains gently to her brother as she takes a seat on the couch.

"Fun Bobby? Your ex-boyfriend Fun Bobby?" Chandler tilts his head.

"Yeah." She confirms.

(Y/N) looks at Chandler, "You know more than one Fun Bobby?"

"I happen to know a Fun Bob." Chandler justifies.

Rachel comes up from behind them all with a mug of coffee for Joey, "Okay, here we go..."

"Ooh ooh ooh ooh, there's no room for milk!" He complains.

Rachel glances at Joey and then at his coffee. She leans down and takes a large sip from the top. "There. Now there is." She shrugs.

"Okay, so on our no-date evening, three of you now have dates." Ross looks in between all of them, still upset about it.

"Uh, four." Joey adds.

"Four." Ross deflates.

"Five." Rachel chimes in.

"Five." Ross hides his head in his hands.

"Six." (Y/N) raises her hand. Taking a sip from Chandler's cup.

"Hey!" Chandler exclaims.

Truthfully, Chandler didn't mind (Y/N) taking a sip of his coffee. He found it slightly endearing. He actually really enjoyed her company due to the fact that both of them happen to be extremely sarcastic.

The brunette man furrows his eyebrows, just now processing what (Y/N) revealed. He pauses, "Wait, you have a date?" He asks her.

"Yes Mr. Bing." (Y/N) responds sarcastically. "Try to hide your shock please." She rolls her eyes.

"I-I didn't meant it like that. I was just interested in hearing you had a date considering two weeks ago you said you didn't plan on dating for awhile." He says, sipping his coffee awkwardly.

(Y/N) tilts her head, "Since when do you pay this close attention to what I say?"

Chandler shrugs, "I don't know..." He mumbles.

"I just can't believe everyone has a date but me." Ross leans back in his chair, crossing his arms to pout.

"Sorry. Paolo's catching an earlier flight."

"Yeah, and I met this really hot single mom at the store. What's an elf to do?" Joey shrugs.

"Yeah, and I met a cute guy at the grocery store when I was shopping for stuff to make my cheesecake." (Y/N) tells him sympathetically.

Ross looks up, "Is it your Oreo one?"

"Yes Ross." (Y/N) smiles.

"You're forgiven." He nods. "But the rest of you are not."

"Oh, c'mon. We'll have, we'll have a big party, and no-one'll know who's with who." Rachel tries to comfort him.

"Yeah, well I'll know. Hey, y'know, this is so not what I needed right now." Ross shakes his head.

"What's the matter?" Monica looks at him concerned.

"Oh, it's-it's Marcel. He's angry with me again. I have no idea why. He keeps shutting me out, y'know? He's walking around all the time dragging his hands..."

"That's so weird, I had such a blast with him the other night." Chandler says, moving his arm behind (Y/N), lightly touching her back. She furrows her eyebrows, but doesn't say anything.

"Really?" Ross looks at him, hurt evident on his face.

"Yeah, we played, we watched TV.. that juggling thing is amazing."

"What juggling thing?" Ross asks as his body begins to sag sadly.

"With the balled-up socks?" Chandler tells him. "I figured you taught him that."

"No." Ross frowns.

Chandler goes to continue once more, but (Y/N) puts her hand on his, "Just stop. You're making it worse." She whispers.

"Noted." He nods, keeping his mouth shut. He leans down to whisper since Phoebe's boyfriends friend walked in. "You know, you never told me what the name of your date was."

"You didn't ask." (Y/N) responds.

"Well, now I'm asking." He looks down at her, his eyes never leaving her figure.

"Well, if you're really that curious, his name is Wren." She whispers back to him.

He looks at her with a scrunched up face, "What the hell kind of a name is Wren?"

"A model name apparently." She responds smugly, taking his coffee from his hands, sipping it once more.

"He's a model?" Chandler looks at her, suddenly losing all confidence.

"Yeah. I figured he could give Joey some good contacts too. So, it's a win-win." She smiles, not noticing Chandler's change in demeanor.

"Yeah." He says grouchily. "Win-win."

            »»————-　⚜　————-««

     (Y/N) walks into Monica's apartment, she smiles at all of her friends as the part is in full swing. She watches as everyone begins to mingle and she makes her way over to the snack table. She places her Oreo cheesecake on the table and grabs her own plate, getting some of Rachel's artichoke dip in the process.

Before she could escape, Chandler and his date Janice come up to the table and the latter gets a big scoop of the same dip (Y/N) just got. "I love this artichoke thing!" She says boisterously and does her signature Janice laugh, making (Y/N)'s eyes go wide.

"(Y/N), you remember Janice." Chandler gives her a fake smile, clearly already annoyed with his date.

"Vividly." She replies with an even faker smile. "How are you?"

"Oh, I am fantastic! Now, you know what's totally amazing? It's just like we have been back together for...like what...like 10 minutes. And-"

"Is that all?" Chandler interrupts, making (Y/N) smirk.

"it's just like we were never apart.   Y'know I mean. Of course, we were... but forgive and forget. Well...forget." She laughs once more when a knock sounds at the door.

(Y/N) nods, and her eyes follow after Monica, begging to be saved. "Well Janice, lovely seeing you again, but Monica needs help... opening the door. So, catch you guys later." She rushes out and follows after her raven-haired friend.

Chandler watches as (Y/N) walks away, his eyes slowly looking over her body. He didn't really notice until now, but she looked absolutely stunning. The dress she was wearing fit her body perfectly. It hugged her in all the right places.

"Oh honey," Janice starts. "You've got a little drool on your chin." She laughs, wiping it off for him.

(Y/N) approaches Monica and a very disheveled Rachel.  She gasps at the sigh of her friend and the bruises that decorate her face. "Oh my gosh! Rachel, honey.. are you okay? Where-where's Paolo?" She asks as her and Monica pull her inside the apartment.

"Rome. Jerk missed his flight." She scoffs angrily.

"And then... your face is bloated?" Phoebe looks at her concerned.

"No. Okay. I was at the airport, getting into a cab, when this woman- this blonde planet with a pocketbook- starts yelling at me. Something about how it was her cab first. And then the next thing I know she just starts- starts pulling me out by my hair! So I'm blowing my attack whistle thingy and three more cabs show up, and as I'm going to get into a cab she tackles me. And I hit my head on the curb and cut my lip on my whistle." She stops and looks around, noticing everyone staring at her. "Oh, everybody having fun at the party?" She leans over to (Y/N) and Monica, "Are people eating my dip?"

(Y/N) and Monica nod as the (h/c) haired girl shows her the plate she has in her hand. Rachel smiles gratefully as Phoebe grabs Rachel's hand and escorts her into her room. (Y/N) huffs and goes over to sit next to Ross and Chandler who both seem to be sulking in the corner.

"What are you boys doing?" She asks with a glass of wine in her hand, sitting right next to Chandler.

"Hiding from Janice." Chandler whispers, peeking around the corner. "I haven't had a moment to breathe since I've been here."

"What did you expect?" (Y/N) chuckles. "It's Janice."

"Yeah." He huffs out, leaning his head against (Y/N)'s arm. She places her hand on his head, playing with his hair mindlessly. Chandler's eyes close as he enjoys the sensation of (Y/N)'s hands in his hair.

The two sit like that for a moment, just enjoying each others company. (Y/N) looks up from Chandler and notices Ross staring longingly at his monkey who seems to be ignoring him.

"You doing okay Ross?" She asks genuinely.

Ross sighs, "Look at him. I'm not saying he has to spend the whole evening with me, but at least check in." He pouts.

Before (Y/N) could respond a loud voice rings out, causing her and true two men to jump. "There you are! Haaah, you got away from me!" She says to Chandler, waking him from his almost peaceful slumber. Janice practically sits on his lap, making him look at her grumpily.

"But you found me!" He imitates her.

Janice looks over at (Y/N) and hands her a camera, "Here, (Y/N) , take our picture." (Y/N) reluctantly takes the camera and begins to snap photos. "Smile! You're on Janice Camera!"

"Kill me. Kill me now." Chandler looks at (Y/N) with pleading eyes.

The woman smiles and sends him a playful wink as she snaps another photo of the couple. "Keep smiling Chandler, you're on Janice camera." She says mockingly.

Another knock sounds through the house and Monica goes to look through the peephole. She smiles excitedly, "Hey everybody! It's Fun Bobby!"

Everyone cheers loudly as Monica opens the door. She goes to greet him cheerily but quickly notes the depressed look on his face. "Hey, sorry I'm late. But my, uh, grandfather, he- died about two hours ago. But I-I-I couldn't get a flight out 'til tomorrow, so here I am!"

Fun Bobby goes towards the couch and begins to talk about his grandfathers funeral. Janice grabs (Y/N)'a attention once more, forcing her to take more photos of her and Chandler.

(Y/N) dejectedly turns back around and comes face to face with Janice kissing Chandler. (Y/N) clenches her jaw jealously as she aggressively snaps a photo of the two kissing. Chandler notices (Y/N)'s posture become much more tense. He pulls away and sends (Y/N) a curious look.

"Oh, I'm gonna blow this one up, and I'm gonna write Reunited in glitter." Janice exclaims happily as she continues to try and maul Chandler's face.

(Y/N) scoffs under her breath and shakes her head. She goes to turn around but Chandler's voice stops her. "Alright, Janice, that's it! Janice... Janice... Hey, Janice, when I invited you to this party I didn't necessarily think that it meant that we-" He gestures between the two of them.

"Oh no. Oh no." The woman puts her hand up, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry you misunderstood..." Chandler trails off.

(Y/N) can't help but feel happy at the scene unfolding in front of her. She really did hate seeing Chandler with Janice. Or any female for that matter. Little did she know was that Chandler felt the exact same.

"Oh my God. You listen to me, Chandler, you listen to me. One of these times is just gonna be your last chance with me." Janice exclaims as she storms off.

(Y/N), not able to help herself, snaps a photo of Chandler being left on the spot. The man rolls his eyes, "Oh, will you give me the thing." He snatches the camera from her hands making her giggle at his irritation.

"So grouchy." (Y/N) teases as she begins to walk back over to the snack table, Chandler in tow.

"I know this sounds terrible," He starts. "But I am so happy she left." He breathes out relieved.

"You and me both." (Y/N) laughs. "I'm sorry, but her laugh drives me insane."

"You're not the only one." He answers with wide eyes.

"Hey, but at least she's gone now." (Y/N) smiles optimistically.

"And so is my chances of getting a kiss at midnight." He huffs, leaning back in his chair.

(Y/N) shakes her head at him, "Is that really all you're worried about?"

"Yeah, aren't you?" He queries. "Speaking of, I haven't seen your model man date." He tells her mockingly. "Did someone lie about having a date?"

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, and shows him a photo of the man, making his eyes widen at how beautiful he is. "That's not natural." Chandler shakes his head.

"But no, I didn't lie about having a date." (Y/N) stares at him. "He just bailed last minute. Said he took a job in LA at the Marc Jacobs show tomorrow morning so he had to fly out."

"Well, he's a jerk." Chandler states matter of factly. "Leaving you high and dry like that."

(Y/N) shrugs, "I'm not to broken up about it. Plus, I'm right where I wanna be." She smiles softly, squeezing Chandler's hand.

The man's heart leaps in his chest as the beautiful woman in front of him stares at him with her piercing (e/c) eyes. "Really? Sitting here, no date, with me." Chandler raises an eyebrow. "That's where you wanna be?"

"Why wouldn't I want to be here?" (Y/N) tilts her head. "I'd rather be here with you than anyone else."

(Y/N) glances over at the TV, "There's twenty seconds til midnight." She reveals.

"And the moment of joy is upon us." He smiles sarcastically.

(Y/N) listens as the group of people begin to count down. Ross, Monica, Rachel, Joey, and Phoebe seem to have formed their own little group in the other corner of the house. Everyone besides them seem to gather in their own little couples as they begin to count down.

3...

(Y/N) looks over at Chandler and stands up. The man looks at her with a confused look on his face. "What are you doing?"

"Get up." She commands.

2...

"What why?" He looks around rapidly, not understanding what's going on.

"Just get up." She repeats. "Trust me." She extends her hand out for him to take.

"Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to end well?" He asks warily.

"You tell me if it ends badly."

1...

"I don't understand-" Chandler furrows his eyebrows but is swiftly cut off by (Y/N) grabbing him by the collar and pulling him closer to her.

Happy New Year

(Y/N) smashes her lips onto Chandler's. The man sits in shock for a moment before settling into the kiss. He reciprocates her passion and continues kissing her happily. He grabs her waist and pulls her even closer than she was before. He digs his fingers into her side, causing her to gasp. He slips his tongue into her mouth smoothly and she sighs happily. Her hands shoot up into his hair, her thumbs rubbing the back of his head.

"Chandler's kissing (Y/N)!" Ross exclaims. "(Y/N)'s kissing Chandler!" He points over to the couple like a child catching his parents putting presents under the tree.

(Y/N) and Chandler reluctantly pull apart and both of them look over to their group of friends who are staring at them with blank faces. Chandler wraps his arm around (Y/N)'a waist.

"Well, Happy New Year everyone." He clears his throat. "But I think (Y/N) and I are gonna head back to her apartment."

(Y/N) nods rapidly, "Bye guys." She waves as the two frantically escape Monica's apartment, desperate to undress each other.

The group watches after them and Joey sighs, "It's about damn time." He exclaims.

Everyone nods and mumbles in agreement as they go back to the party. The tension between them has been palpable for awhile. It was truly only a matter of time.

Looks like the no date pact didn't do much good.

Scott: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into this room.

Stiles: Screw that, I’m not kissing any of you.

*Y/N walks in*

Stiles: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know.

Lupus Nox

(A Teen Wolf Fanfiction)

Season One

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓖𝓲𝓯𝓽

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

There are friends, there is family, and then

there are friends who become family

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Season One Cast

You as Fallon Donovan

Tyler Hoechlin as Derek Hale

Zooey Deschanel as Grace Donovan

Jamie Dornan as Michael Donovan

The rest of the Teen Wolf cast as their lovely

characters 🤍

They Don’t Know About Us

Peeta Mellark x Reader

TW: Regular Hunger Games angst, Coriolanus Snow being a douche, semi-sweet fluff. Let me know if I missed anything!

(This is based on the song “They Don’t Know About Us” by One Direction if you’d like to listen while reading 🤍)

✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩

Winning the Hunger Games was never something the children of the lower Districts were prepared for. All their lives, they watched as the Careers won countless times, with the occasional lower District pulling out a victory. When Y/N L/N was reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games at a mere fourteen years old, she never imagined she’d be the one to emerge victorious. The only other individual who won that young was Finnick Odair from District Four, who had become a rather close friend of the now sixteen year old from District Nine.

During her games, Y/N was assumed to be the weakest link. She was easily underestimated by the other Tributes, until the individual evaluation scores came back.

An eleven.

After that, she had a rather large target on her back. Not that it mattered. At fourteen years old, she killed twelve Tributes on her own. No alliances, no sponsor gifts, absolutely nothing. Just her sickle and a belt of daggers wrapped around her waist to get her to victory.

She truly thought that was the end of it. The moment she stepped out of the arena, leg broken, blood profusely cascading down her face from the cut on her forehead, she thought it was over. But she was so wrong. She had no idea what was in store for her when she stepped foot back into the Capitol.

Unbeknownst to her, she was and remains a fan favorite to this day. The people of the Capitol adored her. They love her snarky remarks yet cherish her innocent eyes when she bats her lashes on stage. They love the way she dances at the parties the Capitol throws, and how polite she is when someone offers her a drink. She didn’t realize escaping those games would mean being stuck in another cage. Snow’s cage to be exact.

He kept her under surveillance quite often. Never let her stray too far from him. She was special. He knew that the second he watched her impale someone with her sickle in the original bloodbath. He knew when he watched how graceful she moved walking on stage for her interview with Caesar. And it was all confirmed for him when he watched her dancing with such fluidity during her Victors tour that he knew he had to keep her close. She had a certain power, a way to make audiences listen to her. And at such a young age, that’s too much of a threat.

Y/N spent most of her time in the Capitol, rarely being able to visit home. She tried to fight it in the beginning, but once Snow threatened her family, she knew better than to defy him. So she tried her hardest to find a home in the place that took advantage of her and stole her innocence.

It wasn’t all bad being stuck. She met many people, older Victors who helped her adjust since her winnings. Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason have been particularly helpful. Finnick is around much more than Johanna and he’s taken on a brotherly figure in her life, protecting her from the rotten slime of the Capitol. He felt for the young girl. She won at the same age he did and managed to obtain the highest amount of kills out of any Tribute. Simply observing her, he knew that she would be haunted by her Games for the rest of her life. She might’ve got out of the arena, but she never won. None of them did.

Whenever she would wake up screaming from a nightmare, he was there. He would sit with her until she fell asleep, humming soft sea shanty’s for her.

They got stuck in a pattern for awhile. One that they didn’t necessarily like, but that they got used to. At least until the 74th Hunger Games ended. Y/N’s Tributes didn’t last very long. They made it further than some, but not far enough to be noticeable. Finnick could tell that the girl purposefully didn’t mentor the best way she could’ve so the children didn’t have to face the fate of a Victor. He didn’t blame her. Most of the other mentors are the same way. But when Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark both were crowned Victors, something in Y/N shifted.

It wasn’t in the way that most would think. Yes, she shifted in the aspect that the tables of power seem to be turning, but she suddenly appeared happier. He noticed her being absent more, disappearing from her room late at night, and even being more secretive about who she speaks to. He didn’t know what caused the shift until the 74th Games’ Victory tour. The moment he walked into their party in the President’s mansion, he saw what caused the change.

Y/N stands by one of the many large pillars of the mansion, hiding behind the marble structure. She giggles under her breath as she watches Peeta try his hardest to look around discretely. He has no idea that she’s looking right at him. She furrows her eyebrows, losing him in the large sea of people that are all there for him and Katniss. A small frown makes its way onto her face until a pair of strong hands grips her hips softly.

She lets out a quiet yelp before spinning around. She smiles when Peeta’s honey brown eyes meet hers and a cheeky little smile takes over his face. “Hi,” she greets shyly.

“Hi,” he replies, finding the light pink dusting on her cheeks adorable. He pulls her gently to hide them a little more in the shadows. There’s too many people here who wouldn’t be thrilled seeing the two of them together in this proximity. Especially since he is supposedly married to Katniss.

“How are you enjoying the party?” She asks quietly, resting her hands on his chest with a teasing smile.

“It’s a bit underwhelming,” he comments sarcastically, glancing around the area with a high level of distaste.

“You can say it’s appalling,” Y/N assures him. “People are starving in the Districts and here they don’t even bother finishing their plates.” She can see the cogs turning in his brain. Ever since she’s met him, she’s admired how big his heart is. If he could save every individual in the Districts, he would. But the last thing they need is to draw unwanted attention to themselves getting worked up over something they can’t currently control. She sighs, shaking off the agitation before cupping the side of his face. “Hey, it’s alright. Nobody said you have to enjoy tonight.”

“Are you enjoying it?” He queries.

She shakes her head, “Never in a million years.” A cocky grin takes over her face as she stands on her tippy toes to get closer to him, “I am enjoying your company though.”

Her answer makes him smirk as well before he places a small kiss on her lips. Peeta cherishes every moment he gets to spend with Y/N as most of their time together is fleeting. They can only be together for mere minutes at a time in order to avoid suspicion. The only two people who know about their dalliance are Haymitch and Katniss, who have been supportive in their own creative ways. They try their hardest to give the young couple more time together, but it gets rather difficult when Peeta and Katniss need to be seen together all the time.

In order to make up for the time that they lose, Peeta and Y/N create their own ways to display their affections. Sometimes it entails slipping love notes in one another’s pockets in passing, pulling each other behind large structures to sneak in a kiss, leaving their rooms in the middle of the night to meet in a dark alleyway just to have some time to themselves.

Neither of them minded it. It was thrilling almost to know that nobody knew about them. Sneaking behind Snow’s back gave them both a sense of freedom that they thought they’d never get back. Peeta sighs happily as he rests his head against hers. Y/N rubs the pad of her thumb on the back of his hand, “When do you have to leave?” She asks him in a whisper.

The smile on his face falls, “Tomorrow morning,” he answers. “With the 75th reaping coming up, Katniss and I have to be back in Twelve.”

She nods in understanding, “Then I guess we’ll just have to make the most of tonight.” Her smile is solemn, but she knows better than to make him feel bad for their lack of time. She won’t be leaving the Capitol for another two days. Snow is only allowing her to return home solely for the Reaping.

“That we will,” Peeta smirks. He plays with a loose strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers. “Meet me tonight at our spot?”

“Always.”

And she did just that. About four hours after the party ends, Y/N manages to sneak out of her suite. She uses her stealth to make it all the way up to the roof without alerting any nearby Peacekeepers of her late night rendezvous with the Baker Boy from Twelve. She slowly pushes open the heavy door that leads outside and she gently slides it closed. Clearly her silence is rather impressive as Peeta, who is standing at the ledge of the building, didn’t hear her coming up behind him.

She smiles before walking forward and wrapping her hands around his eyes, “Guess who?”

Peeta tenses at first, not expecting his sight to be impaired, but he’s quick to relax when he recognizes Y/N’s voice. “Well I can happily say it’s not Haymitch,” he tells her jokingly.

Y/N chuckles, allowing him to turn around as their lips meet in a sweet embrace. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers fiddling with his soft blonde hair. He wasn’t kidding in his interview with Caesar before his Games. He really does smell like roses, and maybe a hint of cinnamon and other sweet spices from his time spent in the bakery.

Peeta casually lifts her up by her thighs, setting her down on the ledge of the roof so she can sit. He cages her in with his muscular arms, simply admiring how the moonlight makes her skin glow. The stars in the sky could never compare to the way her eyes constantly shine. He knows that she would never be able to see the beauty he sees. Her damage prevents her from seeing the wonderful things he sees, but he has no issue showing it to her. He would gladly spend the rest of his life showing Y/N all the things that make her the stunning woman she is.

“What?” Y/N questions, blushing slightly from him staring at her for so long. “Do I got something in my teeth?” A dopey smile covers her face at her attempt to joke.

“I’m just looking at the most beautiful woman in Panem,” he answers simply with a shrug. That’s all.”

Y/N giggles, “Don’t you know, Mister Mellark?” She laces her hands with his, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

It was moments like this, holding her in his arms where Peeta momentarily forgets of their circumstances. He forgets that they’re under the control of tyrannical dictator who could easily torture them and their family for their forbidden romance. Staring into her sparkling e/c eyes, it made him realize that there has to be more than this. There has to be more for them somewhere. Where they can be together without worrying about being executed. That’s when Katniss’s words echo in his mind.

“Run away with me,” he blurts out.

Y/N’s eyes go wide, “What?” She asks incredulously, not believing what she’s hearing.

“C’mon Y/N,” he begs with a sweet desperation. “Think about it. If we left now, no one would know. We could run away somewhere, away from here. We could be happy.”

His words sound more than enticing. She wants to, more than anything. But leaving her family to face the consequences of those actions is out of the question. Her realism prevents her from even dreaming of such a possibility. She knows they wouldn’t even make it to the entrance of the Capitol before being shot down by Peacekeepers.

“Peeta…” Y/N says softly, her tone already giving away her answer. “You know we can’t do that. They’d find us in a week,” she frowns as she watches the light behind his eyes dim.

Disappointment radiates around them. Y/N loves his determination to get them the life together that they want. The two teens never thought they’d meet someone they’d connect with so deeply. They don’t even know the jealousy they invoke from the very few people who do know about them. The romance they share is something everyone would covet, even though it has to be hidden.

The blonde sighs defeatedly. She’s right. Even if they did somehow miraculously get out of the Capitol unseen, they’d still have the issue of finding where to run to. “I know,” he admits quietly. “But it doesn’t hurt to think about. Just you and me in an abandoned cabin, far away from all of this.”

Y/N squeezes his bicep with a sad smile, “Maybe someday.” Hope is a dangerous thing for people in Panem, especially false hope. Staring into his eyes, she almost believes that it could be possible. Perhaps she does deserve that happy ending despite the atrocities she’s committed.

The couple simply spends the next few hours in each others arms. They exchange stories of their homes, their families, the hobbies that distract them from the life they live. Y/N can’t wait to bake with Peeta one day. The way his eyes light up when he talks about being in the kitchen, it makes her wish she had taken up the art sooner. Peeta on the other hand is always entranced when she talks to him about her passion for dancing. He’s seen her on the dance floor a couple of times and he can see how much she truly loves it. It transports her to another world.

Y/N even takes it upon herself to show him a simple waltz on that rooftop. The two break into a fit of giggles every time Peeta accidentally steps on her toes or when he gets too focused and his tongue subconsciously pokes out of his mouth. Even though it’s been a few hours, it still doesn’t feel long enough. They continue to talk about meaningless nothings, but as soon as the sun rises from its long slumber, they know their time has come to an end.

“I don’t want you to go,” Y/N mumbles, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. His grip on her waist is tight as he holds her as close to him as she can.

“I don’t want to go either,” he whispers, kissing her temple. “But it’s not for forever, okay? We’ll see each other soon. I promise.”

And how right he was. But he was right in a way that made both him and Y/N sick to their stomachs. When he promised her they’d see each other again, she didn’t think it would be under the circumstances of them both being reaped for the 75th Hunger Games.

Y/N seethed with anger the moment she heard the words leave Snow’s mouth. She had gotten home only moments before the announcement, and as soon as he walked into her large house in the Victors Village, that is what she was met with.

There aren’t many other Victors in District Nine, and she’s well aware that none of them hold as high of a reputation as her. So deep down, she knew her name would be the one called. She would be forced right back into the place that made her a monster in the first place. Sixteen years old and she’s now been reaped twice. Looking at her Tribute partner on that stage, she knew she’d be able to take him. He’s older, no doubt his reflexes have been impaired due to lack of time training. Her only having won two years ago gives her a certain edge, and not too be blunt, but her young age comes with its perks as well.

When they arrived at the Capitol, her and her Tribute partner are briefed on the other Tributes who were reaped. Her stomach twists in knots as she watches Finnick’s face flash across the screen. He’s basically her older brother and now they have to fight to the death. She bites her bottom lip anxiously as their “mentor” continues to show them their opponents. Y/N bites her lip anxiously as he moves onto the District Twelve Tributes. She knows Katniss doesn’t have a choice as she is the only female Victor, but she hopes with every fiber of her being that Haymitch is the person she sees next on that screen.

Peeta Mellark.

Her heart shatters into a million pieces. At that moment, Y/N told herself she would do anything to get him out. She would kill whoever it takes and even sacrifice her own life to make sure Peeta survives. He has too pure of a soul to be put back into the arena, but the odds never seem to be quite in his favor. Or any of their favors for that matter. Her fists are clenched so tightly that they’ve turned pale. An intimidating frown etches its way onto her face as they’re released to their stylists to be prepared for the Tribute Parade.

Being from District Nine, she wasn’t expecting much. The stylist she had during her games practically put her in a burlap sack with pieces of wheat in her hair and called it good. She’s escorted down the hallway, but becomes increasingly confused as two Peacekeepers emerge from both sides of her.

“Miss L/N, come with us. The President has requested your presence,” the taller of the two guards announces.

She furrows her eyebrows. What would Snow want with her only a few hours before the Parade? She’s used to being summoned to see the President due to him keeping her on such a tight leash, but she wasn’t expecting a call from him during the preparation process.

They stop at a wooden door, covered in a dark burgundy paint. There’s a small golden snake that rests in the center, serving as a way to knock on the door. The Peacekeeper to her right utilizes the tool and a small “come in” is muttered by their dear leader. The second Y/N’s foot makes it through the door, she feels the need to vomit. The venomous smile on the man’s face is enough to make her question the decision she made to try and survive the arena the first time.

“Miss L/N,” he greets, “Please, take a seat.”

Knowing better than to fight the titan in front of her, she slowly inches down into the armchair in front of his desk. He retains his smile, his gaze never leaving her form. He folds his hands together and rests them on the desk, “How unfortunate we have to meet again under such pitiful circumstances.”

She swallows thickly, “Yes, I suppose it is quite a shame.” Her voice is as polite as she can make it. Her posture is rigid and her tone is ice cold. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the man in front of her, but he does appreciate her effort to save face.

“Miss L/N, are you aware of why I have called you here?” He asks as if he was a teacher trying to teach a lesson. Y/N knows there’s something much more sinister going on, but she finds herself becoming too afraid to know what it could be.

“No,” she replies shortly.

He lifts an eyebrow in amusement. A small, almost disappointed sigh escapes his lips as he fiddles with one of the many white roses in the vase on his desk. “Perhaps a visual aid will help you understand why I’ve requested your presence.”

He presses the button on the hologram sitting at the center of his desk and Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat as an image of her and Peeta kissing on the rooftop flashes in front of her. Her jaw falls slack. She thought they were careful. There had been no cameras the previous times they’ve met there. No Peacekeepers were around. It made no sense. He wasn’t supposed to know.

Dread fills her entire body. She had been gone from Nine since yesterday. He could’ve easily slaughtered her entire family in that amount of time. Was this why she was reaped? What if he tries to kill Peeta specifically in the arena because of this?

“Relax, my dear,” Snow’s smug expression makes her blood boil. He flicks of the projection before focusing fully on the girl in front of him. “I understand the appeal of forbidden love. It’s rather exciting, is it not?” Y/N can feel him about to sink his teeth into her soft flesh. She can feel the numerous amount of threats about to leave his lips. “Unfortunately, your love story with Mister Mellark is not apart of the narrative I’ve so carefully curated.” She’s startled by how calm he sounds, but that has always been the unnerving thing about Snow. No one ever knows what truly goes on in his mind as he hides his true intentions behind his politics. “I truly am disappointed that you haven’t been honest with me Miss L/N. I thought we were better than that.”

Y/N’s at a loss for words. She simply stares at the President, digging her nails into the supple flesh of her palms as she tries to hold back the anger bubbling inside of her. “The relationship between Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark is one that inspires hope,” he begins. “It distracts the people of Panem, keeps the system in balance. Our citizens have fallen in love with their love. They follow their story. The last thing we need is a scandal, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her eyes are steely as she grits her teeth, “Yes sir.”

“The star-crossed lovers will not be interfered with,” he instructs. “And if I find that you’ve continued this dalliance, I am well accustomed to finding a suitor for you myself. Perhaps through the same methods of your dear friend Finnick Odair?”

There it is. The threat she was waiting for. She knows all about Snow and how he sells the Victors deemed desirable. He never sold her when she won because she was too precious too him. Her talent for dancing and kind persona are what kept him from selling her off to the highest bidder. He figured she would be more valuable as an item people could see, but not touch. Clearly he is willing to sacrifice that because of her defiance.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” she says, keeping her voice as steady as possible. Anyone listening to this conversation would believe it is as civil as it could get, but the look behind both of their eyes suggests a silent duel is going on between the two. Neither of them blink as a satisfied smile appears on Snow’s face. “Whatever you saw, it won’t happen again.

“Good,” he nods approvingly. “I knew I could count on you to be sensible.”

Y/N stands without another word. She dusts herself off as the Peacekeepers open the door for her. As soon as she’s rounded the corner to head to her stylist, that’s when the tears start cascading down her cheeks. She puts a hand over mouth to muffle her sobs as she sinks down onto the floor. She should’ve known that their secret wouldn’t have stayed that way for long. Snow always has a way of finding things out, and now she’s not only out her life in jeopardy, but Peeta’s as well.

That’s when she realizes that he doesn’t even know what just happened. She squeezes her eyes tightly in pain, knowing that she’ll have to end things with the only person who’s managed to make her feel whole again after emerging from the arena. Picturing the heartbreak on his face is enough to make her want to beg someone to kill her in the bloodbath. But she won’t. She can’t. She made a vow to herself that she would protect Peeta, keep him safe. Even if they can’t be together, she won’t let him die.

Her tears dry and a certain determination fuels her to keep moving. She wipes her face and forgets all of her emotions on the floor she just left. There’s no use in mourning. She needs to be in the correct headspace if she’s going to get him out.

And she will.

————————————————————————

Pt. 2 anyone?

Second Chance At First Line 1x02

Episode 3

     Fallon waits patiently outside, sitting on the bleachers at the lacrosse field. She was the first one ready so that gave her time to sit and think. Her best friend since the third grade… is a werewolf, and apparently so is Derek. He’s the reason Scott ended up in the woods and found out that Allison’s father is a hunter. 

Her leg bounces up and down as her mind runs at a million miles a minute. She tries to focus on getting ready for practice, but it’s almost as if her entire world has shifted off its axis. The only thing consuming her every waking thought is that she’s actually living some people’s worst nightmares. She can’t even imagine how Scott feels. Trying to live a normal teenage life, only to find out that it’s now impossible to do so. 

Her anxiety is through the roof. She left the Argent’s house after breakfast the day after she slept over, not knowing how to act around the family after what she found out. She didn’t want to make it seem weird, but her abrupt exit might’ve done enough damage for her. Allison had been texting her all weekend since then and all Fallon could do was tell her she thinks she got a stomach bug from the food at Lydia’s. While the brunette wants to become friends with the new girl, there’s a worry in the back of her mind that Allison knows about the supernatural. Fallon’s not sure if there’s a possibility that Allison might be interested in Scott just lure him into a trap. 

A tap on the shoulder pulls Fallon out of her thoughts. She looks up and sees Coach holding two of the longer lacrosse sticks. “Donovan, why don’t you take one of these today, and get your ass out on the field!” He commands, placing the stick in her hands. 

She nods obediently, “Yes, Coach.” 

Her legs carry her out to the grass and that’s when she sees Scott and Stiles running out. Stiles sends her a thumbs up, silently asking if she’s okay. The girl sends him one back, assuring that she’s fine. Once Scott makes it closer to her, she migrates towards him, worried about his mental state after the events of the weekend. 

“You alright?” She asks quietly. 

“You mean after finding out that the girl I like’s dad is trying to kill me?” He replies, sick to his stomach. “Yeah, I’m great.” 

Fallon pats his back, sympathy written all over her face, “I’m sorry, Scotty.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

Coach’s whistle echoes loudly around the field. “Let’s go! One-on-one from up top!” 

Fallon’s partner for one-on-one’s is Danny. She grins at the boy before the red whistle is being blown again. Jackson scoops up the ball for his team and everyone starts to play. They all run around the field, passing the ball to each other and shoulder-checking their opponents as they try to score a goal. Danny grunts as Fallon plows into him, forcing him out of her way as she goes after the ball. Coach follows their movements closely from the sidelines. 

Fallon runs in between Jackson and one of his teammates, intercepting the ball he just barely threw from his elongated stick. She sticks hers up in the air, catching it effortlessly. Jackson’s jaw clenches when Fallon winks in his direction before taking off to her team's goal, scoring the first point of the afternoon. 

“That’s how you do it, Fallon!” Coach praises, “That’s how you do it!” 

After a few more minutes of game play, Coach yells at Greenberg to take a lap around the field for messing up the play. He drops his stick and his helmet, running towards the track with his head hung low. As he’s verbally abusing Greenberg, he instructs the others to get in line for goal practice. Fallon lines up right behind Scott, but she can see his eyes are more focused on something in the distance rather than on the field. 

“Scott, do you hear something?” She whispers. “Like y’know… w–with the werewolf hearing?” 

He shakes his head silently, still staring off into space. At least until Coach catches his attention, “McCall, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!” 

Coach points at Jackson who is blocking for the goalie. Fallon will be blocking for the second half of boy’s at Coach’s behest. The blonde boy looks smug, almost as if he’s  only doing this to show up Scott. The brunette boy clenches his jaw, charging towards Jackson. Fallon and Stiles, who happens to be behind her, wince as Scott is launched to the ground by a harsh shove from Jackson. Coach wastes no time in marching over to him mockingly, not even giving Scott time to stand from the mossy grass. 

“Hey, McCall!” Coach crouches down and Scott grimaces from pain and embarrassment as he struggles to stand up straight. “My-my grandmother can move faster than that-- and she's dead! You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?” 

Fallon and Stiles watch worriedly as Scott’s anger and frustration is what’s keeping him doubled over. They glance at each other, beginning to get ready for a werewolf intervention if needed. The last thing that needs to happen is Scott wolfed out on the field. 

“Yes, Coach,” Scott replies through clenched teeth. 

Coach, still trying to goad Scott into a more competitive mindset, “I can’t hear you!” 

“Yes, Coach,” this time he sounds more than just angry. His hard glare is focused on Jackson who is watching him with a smug smile. 

Irritatedly, Coach Finnstock bends down further, moving his mouth inches from Scott’s ear, “The do it again!” 

Scott’s grip around the lacrosse stick grows impossibly tighter as he runs back in line. Fallon whimpers quietly as his eyes briefly flash gold in her direction. How can one thing be so terrifying yet captivating at the same time. 

“McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!” 

Jackson gets back to his position just a few feet in front of the goal as Scott returns to the front of the line-up for one-on-ones; though his eyes are no longer glowing gold, he still looks furiously determined. After a moment, Coach blows his whistle to have them start. 

“Let’s go!”

Scott runs at full-speed towards Jackson, much faster than he ran last time. Fallon hears a small snap as the two boys collide with one another. Scott rams his shoulder into Jackson’s collarbone, knocking him flat on his back. He clutches his shoulder in pain and Fallon assumes the snapping sound came from his body. 

The entire team, minus Stiles and Fallon, surround Jackson. The two of them look at each other, completely panic stricken as they rush towards Scott’s side. Everyone seems too distracted by their knocked down captain to notice Scott with bright golden eyes and fangs poking out of his mouth. Scott groans loudly, desperately trying to keep himself from fully turning. He clutches his head tightly. 

“Scott? Scott?” Fallon tries to get him to look at her. “Are you okay?” She gets nothing in response so her and Stiles sling his arms over their shoulders. 

Scott pants heavily, finally finding the strength to talk, “I can’t control it,” he wheezes. “Guys, it’s happening!” 

“What? Right here? Now?”

“No, Stiles, ten years in the future,” Fallon snaps sarcastically. “Yes, obviously it’s happening now. “We gotta get him out of here,” she says.

They start trekking across the field, passing the bleachers to get inside the school. The trio though is too preoccupied with Scott’s current predicament to notice Derek watching them from behind said stands. He has a focused expression as he follows their movements closely. 

All three of the teens pant loudly, carrying Scott’s weight being a lot more than they originally anticipated. They barely make it through the locker room door before setting Scott down. Stiles slides in front of the shifting boy while Fallon crouches down behind him. He’s got support in the back and in the front. 

“Sit down. Sit down,” Stiles coaxes. “You okay?” 

Their friend is practically hyperventilating, clutching the stone bench next to him. Fallon knows they can’t help him if they don’t know what’s going on with him. She moves around to crouch down at his side and places her hand on his bicep, “Scott, talk to us,” she begs.

The sixteen year old werewolf, now completely overwhelmed, finally looks up at his friends and screams at the top of his lungs in a desperate panic. His eyes returning to their golden shade. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

The shock from Scott’s roar causes both Stiles and Fallon to stumble backwards. The girl's heart is beating out of her chest as she watches Scott start stalking towards Stiles. She barely gives herself a chance to blink before she’s spear tackling Scott into the floor. They crash into a row of lockers causing a loud boom to emanate through the room. 

Stiles yelps before yanking Fallon off of Scott who has now set his sights on her. “Why the hell would you do that?!” Stiles screams as they run to hide behind a row of lockers. 

“To save your dumb ass!” She yells back, throwing her hands in the air. “Thought it was obvious!” 

Both of them screech at the same time as Scott mounts the top of the lockers. Stiles is a tad bit more high pitched than her, but he would never say that. He flails around, trying to grab her wrist as they weave through the already crowded area. Scott continues following after them, his urge to kill unrelenting as he bares his fangs at them. He jumps across the rafters, leaving the duo on the ground with no room to hide as he can see everything from above. 

Stiles protectively throws Fallon behind him as Scott goes to jump down from the high ground. She grunts as her back collides with the fire extinguisher that’s hanging on the wall. A lightbulb goes off in her head as she grabs the tool off its hook. 

“Stiles!” She grabs his attention, handing him the nozzle. He slowly realizes her plan and takes the black end gratefully. Fallon closes her eyes in fear as Scott jumps directly at them, pressing the button to release the carbon dioxide. The white substance shoots out of the nozzle, coating Scott’s body in it. Stiles and Fallon exhale shakily as their friend collapses to the floor, his breathing slowly evening out. They still take cover outside of the room, just in case he still hasn’t turned back. Stiles clutches onto Fallon’s hand, the two of them hoping to hear Scott’s normal voice.

Thankfully, they do. “Fall…? Stiles?” He calls out weakly. 

The two of them relax slightly, willing themselves not to bolt in the other direction. Stiles peeks his head around the door frame to look at Scott, Fallon standing on her tiptoes to look over Stiles’ head. He’s covered in sweat, sitting on the bench with his head in his hands. They squint at him, trying to decipher if his fangs have retracted. 

Scott notices them staring, “What happened?” He asks weakly. 

Both friends are still panting heavily from the chase they just endured. They look at each other, silently deciding to walk in together. Fallon drops the fire extinguisher on the ground as she stares at Scott with an exhausted and exasperated expression. Stiles stays by her side, both of them removing their lacrosse gloves. 

“You tried to kill us,” Stiles tells him seriously. 

Scott’s face fills with immense guilt. Stiles crouches in front of him while Fallon leans on the lockers across the way. They both stare at Scott softly, not wanting him to beat himself up over this. They just want to help him control it. 

“It’s like we tried to tell you before,” Fallon begins. “It’s your anger, your pulse rising. It’s a trigger for all of– that.” She waves her hands towards his body to emphasize her point. 

Scott huffs out a quiet laugh, “But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed…” 

Fallon’s voice is firm, a lot more firm than the boys are used to. “Well, it’s gonna end up being a lot more violent if you end up slaughtering someone on the field because you don’t know how to control yourself.” She’s not trying to be blunt or rude, but she needs Scott to understand the severity of the situation and how seriously it needs to be taken.

Stiles sighs deeply, looking into Scott’s eyes. “She’s right, dude. You can’t play Saturday. You’re gonna have to get out of the game.”

Scott immediately tries to protest, “But I’m first line–”

“Not anymore.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon sits on her bed, book in her lap as she patiently awaits Stiles’ FaceTime call. Her laptop is open, stuck on the screen of her finished essay. She made sure to get the essay for English done as soon as she could so she didn’t have to worry about it later. Many people make fun of her or ask her how she gets her work done so quickly. Truth be told, it’s not that she’s smart or motivated, she’s just determined to do less work afterwards. Her philosophy is the sooner the work is done, the sooner she can be lazy. 

The moon shines brightly in the sky, casting a comforting shadow into her room. She snuggles under her blanket as she turns the page to chapter twelve of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. The candle in her room provides a certain warmth. She loves the smell of cedar wood and spice. It reminds her of the soon to come fall days that she so dearly misses when summer drags on for too long. The brunette finds herself mindlessly folding a certain black leather jacket over her torso. She doesn’t know why, but this has been her go to coat since the day Derek draped it over her shoulders. And he hasn’t creepily stared at her from a distance yet to get it back, so she plans on using it while she can.

It was already ten o’clock. She didn’t realize it had already been two hours since starting her book. She had eaten dinner around six-thirty before cleaning the dishes and setting aside a plate for her dad who still had yet to return from work. She exhales, checking for any messages from Scott or Stiles. 

Nothing. 

She didn’t know how much longer she could wait. Her eyes already started drooping slightly the moment she turned away from the invigorating pages in front of her. That’s when a knock on her door sounds. She glances up and sees a tired looking Michael standing in front of her. The bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets groggily. “I’m home.” 

“Hey,” she smiles softly, putting her bookmark in its rightful place before closing it. “How was work?” 

He shrugs, a small yawn erupting from his lips. “It was alright. We had a three car pile up. No fatalities thankfully, but a piece of the windshield did puncture a major artery in one of the victims thighs. So that took up most of my night. But, other than that, it was a regular Monday afternoon,” he explains, his daughter listening tentatively. He always appreciated the fact she cared so much about his work. He didn’t have many people to talk to, so it was nice having Fallon. 

“But you saved her,” she encourages. “Like you always do.” 

“I don’t know about that,” he laughs breathily. “I unfortunately don’t have a perfect surgical record.” 

“You still try,” Fallon argues. “You’re good at what you do dad. You save people. Not many others could do what you do.” 

Michael’s heart warms, “Thanks kiddo. I appreciate that.” 

Fallon nods, noticing he must’ve literally just gotten home. He’s still in the clothes he left in this morning since they have to scrub in at the hospital. “I made taco salad for dinner,” she tells him. “I saved you a plate in the fridge if you're hungry.” 

Michael walks over to his daughter, kissing the top of her head. “You’re the best. Don’t stay up too late,” he points at her. “You still got school in the morning.” 

“I know,” she playfully rolls her eyes. “I’ll go to bed in a minute.” 

“Okay, goodnight,”  He waves. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” she waves back. Right as her door shuts, the ringtone on her laptop begins to play as Stiles and Scott’s name pop up. She smiles, plugging her earbuds in before accepting the call. 

“What’s up, losers?” She greets, flipping on her stomach to get in a more comfortable position. Stiles smirks when he notices her fuzzy socks peeking out above her head. 

“Nice footwear,” he nods sarcastically. “I didn’t know Cookie Monster changed his occupation to sock model.” 

“Shut up,” Fallon snarls, but self-consciously hides her feet from view. 

Stiles laughs victoriously, shooting his fake nerf gun in the air. Scott exhales, stressed out about everything going on. He doesn’t have the patience to play games. “What’d you find out?” He questions, getting straight to the point.

Stiles sets his toy down, “Well, it’s bad. Jackson’s got a separated shoulder.” 

Fallon winces. While she hates that Jackson can’t seem to get along with her two boys, she didn’t want him to get that injured. She is still kind of friends with the blonde. 

Scott’s face is covered with immense guilt, “Because of me?” 

Stiles scoffs as if Scott’s statement isn’t true, “Because he’s a tool.” 

“But is he gonna play?”

Fallon looks at Scott’s corner of the screen, “I think it would be better for you if he didn’t,” she points out logically. “Seems like you two can’t play together for five minutes without trying to knock each other clear across the field.”

“Well, they don’t know yet,” Stiles cuts in. “Now, they’re just counting on you for Saturday.” 

Scott sighs deeply, shaking his head. He’s conflicted on what to do. He’s always dreamt of being a lacrosse star but he understands where Fallon and Stiles are coming from. He doesn’t want to risk hurting anyone. As they sit in silence, Fallon tilts her head, leaning in closer to her computer. She furrows her eyebrows, swearing that she just saw a shadow in Scott’s room. A big, burly shadow moving in the background. Stiles seems to be doing the same thing, trying to see exactly who or what is behind their friend. 

Scott notices their incessant staring, “What?” He asks them. 

Not wanting to tip off the possible intruder, Stiles begins typing in the messaging feature. A big yellow bubble pops up, It looks like– 

The message cuts off making Scott even more lost, “It looks like what?” 

Fallon watches nervously as both the boys on her screen freeze, which only means that she and Stiles are frozen on Scott’s screen. She bites her bottom lip out of nervousness, tapping a plethora of buttons to get the screen moving again. Once it does, the second half of Stiles’ message sends. 

Someone’s behind you. 

As soon as the text pops up, Scott is yanked from his chair by the looming figure behind him. The young boy is shoved against his bedroom wall angrily making Stiles and Fallon call out for their friend. The laptop falls to the floor with a small crash. They can’t hear anything that’s being said. Only incoherent whispers make their way through the speakers. Fallon turns her volume up all the way, trying to hear any hint on who the furious person could be. 

After a few moments, Scott returns, picking up his laptop. Fallon and Stiles examine his face, trying to see if he’s injured in any sort of way. Scott slumps down in his chair with a shaky breath, “It was Derek,” he reveals, still reeling from the experience. 

Fallon’s eyes widen, “What’d he say?” She asks curiously. “What happened?” 

He runs a frustrated hand over his face, “I can’t play in the game on Saturday.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon puts in her locker combination, opening the metal door with ease. She places her math notebook in her locker, having just finished getting out of the class. She also slides the homework her teacher assigned her in there, not seeing a point in dragging it around with her since she finished it in class. Sometimes she wishes her teachers would provide more challenging material. She and Lydia have to be already two weeks ahead in that class. Not that Lydia told her that. It’s just something Fallon picked up on. Lydia’s extremely smart. It’s almost intimidating. 

Fallon yelps as Stiles smoothly slides his hand into hers before dragging her down a few feet to grab Scott. “What the hell are you doing?” She asks him as he laces their fingers together.

Stiles ignores her before snagging Scott and pushing his two friends against the wall by the stairs. “What?” Scott questions him calmly, despite all of the manhandling. Stiles points upwards where Noah Stilinski and a couple of his deputies are talking to some of the school administrators. 

“Tell me what they’re saying,” he gestures. 

Scott rolls his eyes but nonetheless peeks around the corner. Fallon pushes Stiles away from her, “Why did I have to be involved?” 

“Because I involve you in everything,” he answers obviously. 

“Shhh!” Scott snaps, not able to hear everything over their bickering. 

Fallon pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. She shoots Stiles a nasty glare to which he responds by jabbing her side with his long pointer finger. The two almost start going at it again, but thankfully Scott turns around with a grim expression which stops them. “Curfew because of the body,” he reveals. 

Stiles scoffs in exasperation and smacks Fallon on the arm to emphasize his point. And to also get her back for their altercation a few moments earlier, but that’s not relevant. The girl retaliates quickly, socking his shoulder roughly, causing him to grunt and clutch the sore spot. 

He rolls his eyes when all she does is smile obnoxiously. He shakes his head, “Unbelievable. My dad's out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants.” 

“The jerk-off?” Fallon says unamused. “You mean Derek?” 

Scott speaks up, being the voice of reason for once, “Well, you can’t exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek…”

“I can do something,” Stiles counters with a newfound purpose. 

Like what?” Carver asks, fixing her gaze on the boy with a buzz cut. 

“Like find the other half of the body,” he shrugs before walking in the other direction. 

Fallon and Scott are left stunned by his conviction. She blinks, “Are you kidding?” She calls after the boy. He doesn’t look back and she huffs in frustration, turning back to look at Scott. Unfortunately, his attention is placed further down the hall where Lydia is introducing Allison to Marshall Cole, one of the guys on the lacrosse team. 

Scott’s face contorts with jealousy and Fallon loops her arm through his. She pokes his chest, “Keep your head up,” she encourages. “If you apologized and made it up to her, I wouldn’t worry about it.” She begins walking him over to the dark-haired girl, “Come on, glaring daggers at the guys she’s talking to won’t solve anything.” 

Allison notices them coming and quickly wraps up the conversation she’s having with Marshall. She grins widely at the sight of Fallon and Scott. “Hey,” she immediately hugs the brunette girl. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to come over again this weekend after the game to hang out?” She asks. “My dad felt bad for not being able to formally introduce himself so he was wondering if you wanted to come play some board games with us. We’re having tacos,” she wiggles her eyebrows. 

Fallon smiles back, but feels Scott tense at the sound of Allison’s father. She reassures him by rubbing his bicep in a friendly way. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

“Great!” Allison says excitedly. “We can talk about the rest of the details later.” 

“Fall!” Lydia calls out, summoning her with her freshly painted fingers. “Come on.” 

“I’ll be right there!” She hugs Scott quickly and then moves to kiss Allison on the cheek before chasing after the redhead. 

As soon as Fallon is by her side, Lydia dismisses Marshall like he never even existed in her world. The brunette shakes her head with a chuckle, “You’re really only doing this to get under Scott’s skin?” 

“I’ll stop once he agrees to play on Saturday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Rather simple terms in my opinion, especially since he almost killed my boyfriend.” She applies a new layer of lip gloss before linking her pinky with Fallon’s, “You’re still playing, right?” 

“Yes,” Fallon confirms. “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

“Good,” Lydia hums approvingly. “Then all isn’t completely lost. Just let your little friend know that if he doesn’t play, he doesn’t get the prize,” she threatens, referring to Allison who just stormed away from Scott with an upset look on her face. 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     After school, Stiles rapidly barges into the McCall household, forgoing knocking on the door. Fallon shakes her head as she walks at a normal pace across the house after closing the front door behind her. Melissa doesn’t need her neighbors peeking into her home simply because Stiles didn’t think about shutting the door behind him. 

She stifles a laugh as Stiles manages to trip up the stairs without losing his momentum. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t knocked out any teeth yet. He flings Scott’s room door open and barrels in just as Fallon finishes her journey up the stairs. 

They both walk in to see Scott restringing the net on his lacrosse stick after it appears to be almost ripped in half by something. Stiles breathlessly and manically begins asking Scott question after question. 

“What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?” He spits out like rapid fire. 

Scott, who has been sitting calmly, looks up at Stiles curiously, leading Fallon to answer his un-asked question. “Yes, he’s taken a lot of adderall. I couldn’t stop him. By the time he came to pick me up, he was already vibrating in the driver's seat.”

“I found something at Derek Hale’s,” Scott tells them. 

Stiles gasps excitedly, “Are you kidding? What?” 

Fallon jumps on Scott’s bed, starfishing across the whole mattress as Stiles continues to harass Scott for information. “There's something buried out there. I could smell blood.” 

The brunette girl sits up on her elbows. She stares at him in shock, “Seriously?” She asks with a slack jaw the same time Stiles shouts, “That’s awesome!” 

Fallon slowly turns towards him, shaking her head at his idiocy. Stiles feels slightly self-conscious at her judgemental expression and reconsiders his sentence. “… I mean, that’s terrible. Whose blood?” 

Scott stands from his spot, “I don’t know. But, when we do, 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.” 

Scott tosses his lacrosse stick on the bed next to Fallon. The girl frowns, “Hold on, how do we even know if Derek did it?” She questions as she follows them down the stairs. They clearly plan on going somewhere and Fallon is only along for the ride. “We can’t just assume he’s the murderer just because you’re mad he told you not to play. Which is some good advice by the way,” she adds, hopping in the back seat of the Jeep while the boys take the front seats. 

Both Stiles and Scott turn comically slow to look back at her. They have identical judgemental looks in their eyes. It makes Fallon shrink in her seat. Stiles gesticulates wildly, “Read the room.” He scoffs. “God. I mean, he smelled blood, Fallon. What else could that mean?” 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “He’s half wolf, isn’t he? Maybe it’s the rabbit he ate for dinner.” 

Neither of the boys say anything, deciding not to encourage her terrible humor. Stiles speeds off to the hospital, informing Fallon of what they’re doing on the way. Apparently Scott’s decided to smell the dead corpse of the girl they found to see if it matches the scent he found on Derek’s property. 

Fallon crosses her fingers, hoping that her father isn’t anywhere near the morgue. She doesn’t need him questioning why she and Stiles are just randomly waiting in the hospital. She could say she’s there to see Jackson, but Stiles hates him and Michael knows that. So he wouldn’t believe that for a second. 

They just walked through the two sliding doors, the two boys looking for the correct direction to walk in. Fallon huffs, grabbing both of their arms. “This way,” she grumbles, guiding them past the signs that lead straight to the morgue. After working here in her spare time, Fallon’s become rather accustomed to walking the confusing halls, which Scott and Stiles are now extremely grateful for. 

“Here,” Fallon stops directly in front of the door that leads to the expired bodies. “Be quick. The medical examiner is on lunch so I’d say you’ve got like fifteen minutes.” 

“Okay,” Scott nods. He takes one last look around, making sure no one’s watching them before slowly backing into the door towards the morgue. Fallon and Stiles are left behind as his look-outs. 

“Good luck, I guess…” Stiles trails off, slightly offended Scott didn’t even offer for them to accompany him. 

The two of them walk back to the lobby, not wanting to make their presence obvious. Fallon checks around the corner to make sure Melissa or Michael isn’t there. She sighs, relieved at their lack of presence. Once they make it to the receptionist desk, Fallon goes to take a seat but is stunned when Stiles slaps a hand to her chest, stopping her from going anywhere. 

It’s like the breath has literally been stolen from his lungs. She looks at him as if she wants to kill him for slapping her, but he doesn’t seem to notice her murderous desires. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water causing Fallon to look in the direction he is. Suddenly his little outburst makes sense. Lydia is sitting less than five feet away from them, most likely waiting to see her boyfriend. With how nervous and excited Stiles is, Fallon’s surprised he doesn’t combust on the spot. He leans all of his body weight on Fallon before groaning.

“Oh my God…” He tries to surreptitiously look at the strawberry blonde, licking his bottom lip. He glances at Fallon, “Should– Do you think I should go talk to her?”

“Absolutely not,” Fallon replies bluntly, trying to pull Stiles to the other side of the room. 

He looks at her, baffled by the response, “Wha– Why not?” He scoffs. “You’re her friend, wouldn’t it be normal for us to go talk to her?”

“You said ‘should you go talk to her’,” the brunette recalls. “Not should we. And even then, I still wouldn’t recommend it.” 

“It’s not like I’m gonna sit there and cut off a lick of her hair,” he defends himself. “I just wanna have a light conversation y’know? Like the weather.” 

“You’re gonna regret it,” she says in a sing-song voice. “And the moment she rejects you, you’re gonna come crawling back to me and I’m gonna have to sit here and listen to you complain for the next two days.” 

“You love it when I complain,” he teases. 

“Correction, I love you so I put up with your complaining.” 

“Then if you love me, you won’t mind me doing this–” Stiles removes his hand from Fallon’s grasp before smoothly sliding into the seat beside Lydia. His best friend groans, tugging the hood to her jacket over her face and taking shelter in a chair a few down from Stiles. She couldn’t completely abandon him. He’d die on his own. So she keeps her face hidden beneath the cotton polyblend and her knees up to her chest. 

“Hey, Lydia... You probably don't remember me. Um, I sit behind you in biology,” Stiles begins awkwardly.

“Oh dear God,” Fallon mumbles, face turning bright red from second hand embarrassment.

Lydia makes a confused face, but doesn’t say anything which encourages him to keep talking. “Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection.” Lydia makes a face as though this surprises her, which gives Stiles the motivation he needs to continue. “Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to... get to know each other a little better…”

All of the sudden, it becomes obvious that Lydia has been on a phone call using a Bluetooth headset this entire time and hasn't been listening– her facial expressions were in response to the phone conversation. Fallon stares at Stiles, wanting to go over to him and pull him away from the situation. She might complain about his complaining, but he’s right. If he needed her to, she’d sit there for hours and listen to him drone on about his heartbreak. That’s just what they do.

“Hold on, gimme a second,” Lydia says to the individual she’s on the phone with. She puts the person on hold before turning her attention to Stiles. “Yeah, I didn’t get anything you just said. Is it worth repeating?” 

Stiles, visibly embarrassed and feeling awkward, tries to get out of this situation by chuckling nervously and going to sit down directly next to Fallon. “No. Sorry, I’ll just sit…” He collapses into the uncomfortable cushion, a defeated look on his face.

Fallon slowly puts her knees down and Stiles huffs, “Alright, you can say it. You told me so and I should’ve listened to you,” he says rather snappy. 

Instead of saying anything, Fallon simply lays her head on his shoulder, looping her arm under his to connect their hands. The left side of Stiles’ body warms at the feeling and he stares at her, a bit surprised. She squeezes his bicep, “I’m sorry, Sti.” 

He tries to act unbothered by waving it off, but she can see the weight it has on him. He snuggles closer to her, laying his head on top of hers. This is as much solace as he’ll be able to get. “It’s okay. Thanks for not rubbing it in.” 

“I might be an ass, but I’m not a complete jerk,” Fallon half smiles. “I am proud that you lasted more than two minutes though. Even though she wasn’t paying attention to anything you said.” 

“You win some you lose some,” he shrugs with a sigh. “And I’ve lost all of them.” 

Scott then finally makes his way around the corner, having escaped the morgue without anyone detecting him. He notices Stiles and Fallon having a quiet conversation and raises an eyebrow at the fact they’re not bickering. He was sure one of them would be in a headlock by the time he got back out. He almost doesn’t want to disturb the scene in front of him, but they don’t exactly have unlimited time. 

He quickly walks over to them, causing the duo to stand up, redirecting their attention to him. “The scent was the same,” he tells them, not even trying to sugar-coat it.

Fallon looks down. There’s no way Derek is a killer. A creep, sure. But he doesn’t seem like a murderer. She glances at Scott, “You’re sure?” 

He nods, “Yes.” 

“So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property?” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. 

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

“Okay, but do we really think it’s a good idea to just blindly accuse the guy? I mean, Scotty, what if your sniffer is off or something? We don’t exactly know how this whole werewolf scent thing works,” Fallon says. 

“I know what I smelled,” Scott assures her. “It’s not just similar, it’s the exact same.” 

Stiles begins walking towards the exit, “We have the evidence we need to put him away. I say we use it.” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows, “How?” 

Stiles sighs and stops, turning to face his two friends. He sends them a serious expression to make sure what they’re about to do is for the right reasons. “Tell me something first–” he focuses on Scott. “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?” 

Though it's clear by the look on Scott's face that both of the offered options are true, he goes with the first one to appease Stiles and Fallon who are staring at him expectantly. “There are bite marks on the legs, guys– bite marks.” 

The two of them aren’t fully convinced, but the thought of that poor girl getting ripped apart overpowers their suspicions of Scott’s true priorities. “Okay,” Stiles nods. “Then we’re gonna need a shovel… Or three.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Night has officially fallen over Beacon Hills, causing an eerie feeling to creep up Fallon’s spine as they wait for Derek to leave the burnt up Hale house. She nervously bites her nails while simultaneously tugging on the sleeves of her hoodie. Stiles and Scott are quietly conversing up front, careful not to make too much noise just in case Derek can pick up on their presence. 

After a few more moments, Derek, who is in a tight white t-shirt and separate black leather jacket from the one he gave Fallon. He opens the door of his slick black Camaro and jumps in, starting the engine before driving off the property. She doesn’t know if this classifies as stalking, but watching him from a distance in the dark, waiting for him to leave his house seems pretty criminal to her. 

As soon as Derek is far enough away, Stiles immediately pulls his Jeep closer to the house. He parks with a little too much excitement to be looking for a dead body. Scott hops out of his side before opening the door for Fallon, helping her out of the car. She shoots him a tight-lipped smile, grabbing her own shovel and flashlight. 

They meet Stiles at the front of the Jeep before venturing off to the side of the house where the recently overturned patch of earth is located. Fallon waves her flashlight around the area, trying to make sure no other creatures of the night have the opportunity to pounce on them. 

Scott sticks his nose in the air, “Wait, something’s different.” 

“Different how?” Stiles asks, voice uneasy. 

“I don’t know…” Scott trails off unsurely. 

The three of them finally reach the supposed gravesite and Fallon aims her shovel towards the ground. “Let’s just get this over with,” she says, trying to hold back the bile threatening to rise up her throat. “Before I decide to bury one of you instead.”

She jams the head of her shovel into the ground, stomping the spade-end with her foot to push it in further before scooping up some dirt and throwing it aside. The boys follow her lead, both sharing a scared look at her empty threat. They know she wouldn’t do it, but it still doesn’t make her any less scary. 

The three of them work in silence for several minutes, the only sound being heard is their heavy breathing and the different birds singing in the distance. Fallon wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead, wishing that she was in the comfort of her own bed by now. Getting up for school is going to be a challenge tomorrow. 

“This is taking way too long,” Scott speaks up nervously, pausing his digging to voice his concerns. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, not deterring from his quick pace, “Just keep going.” 

Fallon stops as well, understanding Scott’s worries. “He’s right. What if Derek comes back and we’re sitting here digging a six foot grave in his backyard? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of intimidating.” 

“Okay, first of all, Derek’s the one who already dug the six foot grave when he put the body down here. We’re just digging it back up. Second of all, since when are you intimidated by anyone?” Stiles scoffs, chucking more dirt to the side.

“Since he’s a six foot tall werewolf who could probably crush my windpipe with his index finger,” she quips back without missing a beat. 

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly making Scott and Fallon look at him exasperatedly. Stiles groans, “Look, if he comes back, we’ll just get the hell out of here,” he answers as if it’s just that simple.

“What if he catches us?” Scott continues to question him as they resume digging. 

“I have a plan for that.” 

Fallon raises her brows, “Which is what exactly?” 

Stiles stops his movements, leading his friends to do the exact same. He stares at them both with a straight face, “You run one way, Fallon runs over there, and I run that way. Whoever he catches first? Too bad.” He shrugs once again like it’s no big deal and gets back to the task at hand. Fallon grumbles lowly, threatening to hit him on the back of the head with her shovel if it comes to it. 

“I hate that plan,” Scott huffs. 

Scott dumps another scoop of dirt to the side and is about to dig in again when Fallon's shovel hits something solid, causing Stiles to raise his left hand and hold it out in front of Scott to keep him from moving. “Oh, stop, stop, stop.” He flails around, trying to prevent any more movement. 

Fallon’s throat drops into her stomach. Her heart has to be beating at a million miles per second. This could be a literal dead body. When they all look down, they see several twine rope strings poking out of the earth, and the three of them kneel down so they can brush the dirt away with their bare hands. They eventually uncover what looks like a bundle of rough fabric, like burlap, which has been tied closed with the twine rope. Stiles starts to try to untie the bindings, while Scott and Fallon sit still because they are still on edge with fear that Derek is going to come back and catch them. 

Impatiently, Scott tries to urge Stiles on, “Hurry!” He commands. 

“I’m trying,” Stiles responds, irritated by Scott’s nerves. “Did he have to tie the thing in, like, nine-hundred knots?” He curses Derek’s existence through the sardonic question. 

“I’ll do it,” Fallon snaps, gripping the rope with her own hands. Scott also reaches down to help. Stiles is on the far right end, Scott on the left, while Fallon works in the middle. After a long moment, they manage to get it all unknotted, and they open the bundle to find what looks like a severed head of a black wolf. This scares the teens so badly that they all scream loudly and leap out of the grave, Stiles and Scott land on their butts while Fallon lands on her back. They get up as fast as they can, trying to scurry away from the half of the wolf corpse. In the foreground, a flowering plant with purple petals is sprouting out of the ground. Fallon’s eyes are drawn to the gorgeous flower. Its color glowing in the pale moonlight. She fights the urge to touch it as Stiles’ voice pulls her out of her thoughts. 

“What the hell is that?” He exclaims loudly. 

“It’s a wolf,” Scott answers.

“Yeah, I think we can see that,” Fallon says sarcastically. She looks over at Scott, “You told us you could smell blood. Human blood. And that it matched the girl at the morgue. This,” she points to the dead wolf, “doesn’t look like it matches her, let alone any human for that matter.” 

Scott shrugs before throwing his hands up, not knowing what else to say. “I told you guys something was different.”

Stiles, completely dumbfounded, throws his hands up incredulously. “This doesn’t make sense.” 

“Okay, we really gotta get out of here,” Fallon says urgently. She can’t explain it, but she can’t help feeling that Derek is going to return any minute. 

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out. “Okay, help me cover this up.” 

Stiles moves to start pushing the dirt back into the grave with his hands, Scott and Fallon following suit. The brunette girl cringes when looking at the dead wolf body below her. The poor thing. She’s just curious as to why Derek buried it in the first place. 

Stiles’ movements suddenly stop causing Fallon to look at him weirdly. She follows his line of vision back to the purple plant she was looking at a few moments prior. “What’s wrong?” She asks him. “Is there something up with the flower?” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Why would there be something wrong with a flower?” 

“I think it’s wolfsbane,” Stiles reveals cautiously. “So it’s not necessarily what’s wrong with it, but what could be wrong with what it does.” 

Their werewolf friend frowns, “What does that even mean?”

Fallon picks up on what Stiles is putting down. She remembers reading about wolfsbane in the book she did her research in at Stiles’ house. Freckles scoffs at Scott’s blatant ignorance to his situation, “Uh, haven’t you ever seen The Wolf Man?” 

Scott shakes his head, “No.”

“Lon Chaney, Junior? Claude Rains?” He spits out the actors names, trying to jog any sort of memory out of Scott. 

Scott denies ever seeing the movies once more, but more impatiently this time. Stiles grows even more exasperated as Fallon watches with amusement. “The original, classic Werewolf movie?” 

Growing tired of the incessant questioning, Scott sighs loudly. Not wanting anyone to start yelling, Fallon puts her hand on Stiles’ arm, “I think it’s safe to say he hasn’t seen it,” she tells him. 

Stiles makes an almost disgusted face when looking at Scott. The boy across from him loses his patience, “What?!”

Stiles scoffs, completely appalled by Scott’s lack of knowledge in classic films. “You are so unprepared for this.” He pushes himself up to his feet, walking over to the flower. “I try to invite you to movie nights with Fallon and I, but no, you never come. Which is why we know what’s going on and you don’t.” He takes a hold of the purple flower, pulling the entire thing up by its roots. They all gasp when seeing that the base of the plant has more of the twine rope tied around it, which is also buried underground. Fallon and Scott watch as he gently continues pulling the twine out of the ground in a spiral. She honestly doesn’t believe it’s going to end with how many circles he’s made and how much of the rope is spilling out of his hands. 

There are randomly placed wolfsbane petals attached at various points along the length of it, only to find it is connected to the bundle of burlap around the wolf's head. Scott and Fallon look at Stiles with a skeptical expression, confused as to why they're wasting their time with this, when suddenly, they look down and are startled back onto their feet by what he finds in the grave.

Fallon covers her mouth to prevent the shriek that threatens to escape her lips. She immediately clutches onto Scott, her lip quivering as she glances over to Stiles who still has no idea. “Sti…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Stiles turns around, alarmed by her sudden change in demeanor. He sees her and Scott staring into the grave with nothing but shock and horror written on their faces. He walks over to where they are so he can see from their vantage point. When he follows their line of sight, a loud yelp leaves his mouth as he jumps backwards. He clings onto Scott and Fallon, trying to steady himself. 

“Oh!” 

Where there once was a half dead wolf, now lays the top part of a human female body. The same body they went searching for just mere nights ago. She stared up into the sky, lips parted as if she’s silently screaming for help. Fallon feels the need to do the same as the woman’s lifeless eyes bore holes into her soul. 

“Leave. Now. Please?” Fallon taps Scott’s arm repeatedly, unable to form full sentences. He nods his head and the three of them run over to the Jeep, getting as far away from the scene as possible.

She couldn’t believe it. There’s no way Derek Hale could be a murderer. Could he?

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The following morning, Stiles was quick to barge into Fallon’s room, not bothering to knock on her house or room door. Her father must’ve already been at work or Stiles would not have been able to come in so easily. Michael would’ve already tried to feed him breakfast and ask him his plans for the day before he could even reach the stairs that led to Fallon’s room. 

She groans loudly as he jumps on top of her, repeatedly telling her to get up and get dressed. Reluctantly, she throws her warm covers off of her body, but not before smacking Stiles upside the head, eliciting a string of complaints from the boy. She smiles cockily before moving to get ready for whatever adventure he’s dragging her out to. 

“Scott’s already in the car, so hurry up.” 

And that she did. She threw on a navy blue turtleneck and black jeans, tucking her shirt in. She puts her hair up into a quick ponytail and brushes her teeth. She doesn’t bother grabbing food or anything else, figuring she could force the boys to treat her to breakfast after breaking into her house and forcing her to leave. 

It's not long before Stiles pulls up to the Hale house property which is now surrounded with Sheriff's deputies and many other on duty cops. Fallon scoffs, “Okay, you did not tell me we were coming back here.” 

“You didn’t ask,” Stiles shrugs. “Now come on,” he only grabs Fallon’s arm, forcing Scott to stay by the jeep to be the lookout. No doubt some form of payback after the morgue incident. 

He guides them to the side of the house, hiding them from plain sight. She smacks his arm, “You owe me pancakes after this,” she growls. “At this rate, we’re gonna be the ones in the back of that cop car, not Derek.” 

Right as she says this, Derek gets marched out of the house in handcuffs by one of the Beacon County deputies. Derek looks over at Scott with a scowl that causes the young boy to look down at the ground with an expression of mixed guilt and shame as Derek is pushed into the back of a deputy's cruiser. 

“You have no idea how true that statement actually is,” Stiles retorts before once again dragging her across the front yard. Her eyes widen when she realizes that they’re approaching the exact cruiser Derek was just put in. 

She shakes her head, trying to rip her wrist from his grip, “Sti– Stiles, no! Let me go! Sto– Stiles!” 

She struggles but ultimately gives up as he slides into the front seat, forcing her to guard the window so no one could see him talking to Derek. The window is slightly cracked so she puts her face as close as possible to mutter, “I am going to murder you the second you step out of this car.” 

The boy swallows thickly at the deadly look in her eyes. Derek’s own gaze flickers between the two, an ungodly annoyance filling his system at the sight of Stiles. But there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes when he hears Fallon’s words. 

“She’s telling the truth,” Derek reveals, causing Stiles to jump. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters, shuffling away from the door. Fallon sends him one last withering glare before turning around and doing what he wanted in the first place. 

“I really need to stop enabling his behavior,” she grumbles. 

Stiles turns around so he can face Derek fully. He places his face close to the cage that separates the front seat from the back. Fallon can hear how nervous he is just by his rambling. Her threat to his life probably didn’t make this confrontation any easier. 

“Okay, just so you know, I'm not afraid of you.” Derek's head is tilted down, but his eyes move up to look at Stiles through his eyelashes with a scowl that immediately terrifies Stiles. “…Okay, maybe I am. Doesn’t matter. I just wanna know something.” He shifts nervously in his seat making Fallon tap impatiently on the glass, signaling for him to start wrapping things up as the cops are starting to head to their cars. “The girl you killed? She was a werewolf.” 

No response. Derek’s scowl remains in place, his glare only becoming more heated the longer Stiles continues. “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?”

Derek finally decides to speak, his tone is understandably irritated given the current situation. Fallon would smack Stiles if she could reach him. “Why are you so worried about me, when it's your guys’ friend who’s the problem?” There’s a small pause and Fallon hears a bit of movement which she assumes is coming from Derek. “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…” Fallon isn’t able to hear the rest of Derek’s sentence as Sheriff Stilinski approaches her with a knowing yet disappointed smile.

“Fallon,” he greets fondly.

“Sheriff,” she replies with her own nervous smile. Her tone is sickly sweet, trying to deter any suspicions from Stiles who is only hidden by the fact she’s leaning on the window. “Uhm, how’s your shift been? Long I’m assuming, y’know… ‘cause all the murder and stuff.” She was unsure of how to proceed, deducing by the look on his face that he knows Stiles is directly behind her.

He sighs before looking between Scott and his own son, “You know they’re just dragging you down right?” He tells her with a serious expression. “You’ve got so much potential. Don’t let those two idiots ruin it,” he practically begs her. 

Fallon exhales before stepping out of his way, “I think we’re already past that point,” she replies glumly watching as the man yanks his son out of the cruiser. 

Noah drags Stiles off to the side as far away from Derek as possible, leaving Fallon by herself next to the soon-to-be person of interest. She goes to walk away, but Derek’s voice stops her. “You need to help your friend.” She looks back at him and then to Stiles. Derek rolls his eyes, “Not that one. Scott,” he clarifies. She nods in understanding, moving closer to the window. She crouches down to eye level, their faces a bit too close, but it’s for discretion. “Out of the three of you, you seem to be the one with the brain. So do the smart thing and find a way to help him.”

“I’ve been trying,” Fallon says honestly. “He doesn’t exactly listen to me. I’m not a werewolf expert. I don’t really know how to help.” 

“Just keep him from playing on Saturday,” he commands her. 

She nods understandingly, “I can try to convince Coach,” she says. “But I can’t promise he’ll go for it.” 

“I don’t care what you have to do,” Derek shrugs. “If you don’t want to see someone dead on that field, keep him away from the game.” 

“Okay,” Fallon agrees. A moment of silence passes between them. Derek just stares at her expectantly, waiting for her to do something. She fidgets with her fingers before voicing her thoughts, “And for the record, I don’t actually think you killed anyone,” she admits meekly. 

Derek’s face contorts into surprise for a fleeting second. He covers it up by just raising his eyebrows, “And how can you be so sure?” He asks, trying to keep his intimidating facade up. 

“I just have a feeling about you,” Fallon says honestly. “You don’t really strike me as the murderer type,” she smiles slightly. “Despite the big brooding man thing you have going on.” 

“You’d be surprised to find out what people are capable of.” 

“Well, if you’d like to inform me more on people,” she emphasizes the last word to show that she’s referring to just him. “My bedroom window is on the left side of my house, second story. Y’know since apparently you have a thing for sneaking into people’s rooms,” she teases, bringing up what he did at Scott’s. 

Derek has no words. His frown is still plastered on his face as he stares at the girl who he can only describe as an enigma. It’s baffling how she can go from timid and shy to confident and bold within seconds. She doesn’t wait for him to respond, walking over to where both of the Stilinski men are. 

“So, you lied to me,” Sheriff crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at his son. 

Fallon freezes in her spot, suddenly feeling very awkward. Stiles is quick to pull her next to him, needing a physical representation of someone who is on his side. Which she is, unless Noah gives her his disappointed dad look. Then she’ll abandon her best friend in a heartbeat. 

Stiles awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “Well, that depends on how you define lying…”

Sheriff Stilinski is quickly running out of patience, “Well, I define it as ‘not telling the truth.’ How do you define it?” He says sassily.

“Um… ‘reclining your body in a… horizontal… position?” The way he phrases it makes his statement sound more like a question. But Fallon has to admit, he’s not wrong. She covers her mouth politely to cover the small giggles leaving her lips. 

Sheriff just waves his hand in the air, completely over his son’s antics. “Get the hell out of here.” 

Eager to get out of the tense situation, Stiles grips Fallon’s hand before darting back over to the jeep, “Absolutely.” 

“Bye Sheriff!” Fallon waves. 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “I really don’t understand why I’m always in the back seat,” Fallon complains as Stiles speeds out of the woods. “Why can’t Scott and I switch every once and a while?” 

“Because, you were the newbie in this friendship, remember? The OG’s get the front. You’re like Scott and I’s adopted child that we picked up from the side of the road,” Stiles explains. “Abandoned and in desperate need of attention.” 

“I’ve been friends with you both for seven years,” she deapans. “And if anyone is desperate for attention Stiles, it’s you.” 

The muscle in Stiles’ jaw ticks before aggressively pointing back at her without tearing his eyes from the road. “And you’re mean. Did I mention that? You’re mean. That’s why you sit in the back. So I’m not forced to throat punch you.”  

Fallon rolls her eyes, sinking into her seat. He’s not wrong, hence why she can’t come up with an argument against it. Scott sighs, his head pushed against the window of the jeep. He throws his phone down in his lap, “I can’t find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial.” 

“Just keep looking,” Stiles encourages. “Maybe it’s like a ritual or something? Like, maybe they bury you as a wolf,” he suggests, trying to come up with his own explanation for what they found. 

“It could also be a special skill or something,” Fallon chimes in, leaning forward. “Like something a werewolf has to learn how to do.” 

Scott rolls his eyes, getting overwhelmed with all the werewolf business. He grits his teeth before muttering under his breath, “I’ll put it on my ‘To Do List’ right underneath ‘figuring out how the hell I’m playing in this game tonight.’”

The more Scott speaks, the breathier he becomes. Fallon notices him wincing slightly with every movement. She furrows her eyebrows, placing her hand on his shoulder. He tenses under touch which never happens. The brunette goes to ask if he’s okay but is stopped by Stiles speaking. “Maybe it’s different for girl werewolves…” he proposes, still distracted by his own hypothesis. 

Scott’s irritation has seemed to reach an all time high. He loses his patience entirely and snaps at Stiles, “Okay, stop it!” 

Stiles frowns in confusion, “Stop what?” 

“Stop saying werewolves! Stop enjoying this so much!” Scott yells loudly, ripping his shoulder from Fallon’s hand. 

Neither Fallon or Stiles knows what caused this sudden change in behavior. He was calm before they got in the car. “I don’t think any of us enjoy trying to keep you from killing someone,” Fallon mumbles. 

Stiles however looks at his friend with concern, “Are you okay?” 

“No!” Scott’s tone shifts to a much darker aggravation making both Stiles and Fallon share a wary glance. Scott out of nowhere doubles over in his seat as if he’s in excruciating pain. “No, I’m not! I’m so far from being okay!” 

The werewolf begins to hyperventilate, clutching at his own chest. Stiles gets an idea as to what this sudden outburst could be about so he goes to reassure Scott, “You know, you’re going to have to accept this, Scott. Sooner or later. 

“I can’t,” Scott’s face contorts with pain as he writhes wildly in his seat. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Stiles scoffs.

“No!” Scott shakes his head, correcting him. “I can’t breathe…”

Fallon surges forward, her overprotective instincts kicking in. “Why? Are you having a panic attack? Asthma attack? Do you need me to get your inhaler?” Scott simply shakes his head at all of her questions. She genuinely doesn’t know what could be wrong with him. She hasn’t seen him struggle to breathe like this any other time. 

“AHH!” Scott screams, making both of his friends flinch as he pounds his hand against the roof of the jeep. There is definitely strong werewolf undertones in his voice as it deepens multiple octaves. “AHH! Pull over!” He commands.

Stiles, who is completely alarmed, swerves the car out of shock. The sudden jerk makes Scott grimace in even more pain. He faces Scott fully, trying to figure out how to help. “Why? What’s happening?” 

Scott instinctively opens the backpack between them and is horrified to see that the wolfsbane plant and the rope with the flowers attached to it are inside. He looks at Stiles incredulously, “You kept it?” He seethes.

Stiles starts freaking out as well, not knowing how to handle the stressful situation. “What was I supposed to do with it?” He yells back.

“Leave it at the crime scene!” Fallon screams, obviously.

The close proximity with the poisonous plant only makes Scott sicker as time goes on. He forces his hands into fists, his claws starting to pierce the skin of his hand. He’s about to shift. “Stop the car!” 

Both Fallon and Stiles are petrified as Scott’s eyes turn into a golden yellow. Fallon slaps her human friend's arm, “Pull over!” She begs him. 

“Okay!” He exclaims, pulling the car off to the side, slamming on the brakes as he does so. As soon as the car is in park, Stiles grabs his backpack and throws himself sloppily out of the Jeep, running toward the edge of the woods. He uses what little strength he has to toss the bag as far as he can to get as much distance between it and Scott as possible. Once it's out of eyesight, Stiles throws his head back and sighs deeply before turning back toward the Jeep.

“Okay, we’re good, you can–”

He looks up and is completely horrified to see only Fallon sitting in his Jeep, her face a pale white. She looks at him, the only emotion evident on her face is concern. “He’s gone…”

Stiles wastes no time before clambering into his jeep and slamming the door shut. He allows Fallon time to jump over the center console, joining him in the front. She buckles the seatbelt in the passenger seat as he immediately takes off from his parked position. 

“We need to find him,” Fallon looks at the side of his face. “Before he tries to have an early dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles fumbles around in his pocket for his phone. Once he gets a grip on it, he hands it to Fallon. “Dial the number for the Sheriff’s station. If he’s done any serious damage they would’ve gotten a call by now.” 

She nods her head, fingers shaking as she looks for the number in Stiles’ contacts. She presses the button, putting it on speaker for him to talk to whichever dispatcher answers. As soon as the woman hears his voice, she’s immediately annoyed with the first sentence that escapes his mouth. 

“Stiles, you know you can’t call the dispatch line when I’m on duty,” she says from the other side of the phone. 

Stiles huffs loudly, “I just need to know if you’ve gotten any odd calls…?”

“Odd how?” 

“Uh, like, an odd person, or…” Stiles struggles to come up with an example that doesn't sound like he's trying to find out if anyone has seen a Werewolf running through Beacon Hills. “A dog-like individual roaming the streets…?”

“That happens to look oddly similar to Scott,” Fallon suggests to the dispatcher. “Just a tad more facial hair that he’ll never be able to have.” 

The dispatcher runs out of patience for the two, putting an end to their conversation. “I’m hanging up on you now.” 

“No! Wai-wai-wai-wai-wait!” 

“Goodbye,” and with that the line goes dead. 

Fallon watches as Stiles clenches his fists around the steering wheel, hitting it out of frustration “Damn it!” He exclaims. 

“Hey,” Fallon stops him, grabbing one of his hands. She rubs a finger over his bright red knuckles. “We’ll find him, Sti. He’ll be okay.” 

The boy sighs, allowing her to calm him down. “Let’s just hope it’s before we find another dead body.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The nighttime air is crisp, sending a comforting chill down Fallon’s back as she sits on the bench with Danny, retying her shoelaces before going out onto the field. It's finally game night. The brunette is slightly nervous watching Scott and Stiles walk out to join the rest of the team. Luckily, Scott hadn’t tried to kill anyone on his latest rampage around town. He apparently just ended up jumping onto Chris Argent’s car after creepily staring at Allison through her window. 

“You okay?” Danny nudges her shoulder. “You look upset or something.” 

She shakes her head with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yeah, I’m good. Just super excited to play,” she tries to convince.

By the look on his face, he doesn’t buy it in the slightest. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He reminds her. “I know you classify those two as your best friends,” he points to Scott and Stiles, “but you still got me if you ever need a break from… whatever that is.” She follows his gaze, grimacing as Stiles continuously berates Scott. 

For a moment, a genuine smile takes over her face. She nods in appreciation, “Thanks, Danny. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he pats her back affectionately before standing up and walking over to the goal. 

Fallon takes her own leave, standing up and traveling over to Scott and Stiles who have just joined the rest of the team on the sidelines. The bleachers are full of spectators excited for the Beacon Hills Cyclones' first real game of the season, and both teams are milling around on their respective sidelines as the referee gets in position on the field. She smiles when she notices Melissa and her dad sitting next to each other on the bleachers, engaged in what must be a very entertaining conversation. 

Allison and her father also enter the stands, the former waving enthusiastically at Fallon, holding her popcorn in her other hand. Chris smiles and nods at the girl as well, making Fallon’s nerves skyrocket as she pictures him with an automatic rifle in his hand. Then she remembers she’s going home with them after the game, her overnight bag shoved inside her gym locker. 

“Scott!” Lydia’s voice rings out causing the trio to look in the direction she’s coming from. There’s a certain confidence in her step, a plethora of threats no doubt about to leave her lips as she grips the boy by the collar of his jersey. 

Fallon watches as a jealous expression takes over Stiles’ face. She takes a step forward, leaning into his side. “Down boy,” she whispers. He bites the inside of his cheek but simply wraps his arm around Fallon, pretending the sight doesn’t irritate the living hell out of him. 

“I just want you to remember one thing for tonight…” 

Obviously uncomfortable by Lydia's close proximity and aggressive tone of voice, Scott looks down at her hand, which is still gripping his jersey, and responds nervously, “Uh... w-winning isn't everything?” 

Lydia chuckles sarcastically before letting go of his jersey and smoothing out the wrinkles, straightening his shirt sleeves before answering him. “Nobody likes a loser.” She patronizingly pats his chest before turning to take her seat with Allison and her father. 

Scott shakes his head from the encounter, going to sit down with Fallon and Stiles. He blows out a puff of air, “She’s scary,” he tells them, eyes blown wide. “If Derek doesn’t kill me for playing, she’ll definitely kill me for not playing.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, his eyes following after the redhead. “But she’s hot so it doesn’t matter.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Fallon says with a grossed out expression. 

“At least I don’t find a murderer who buried the body on his property attractive,” he spats back, referring to her comment about Derek in the woods. 

“Why are you acting like you didn’t find him hot too?” She quirks a brow. Stiles opens his mouth and closes it, not able to find a good retort. She smirks, readying her lacrosse stick, “That’s what I thought.” 

The referee blows his whistle causing both teams to charge out onto the field from their respective sides. Loud cheers emanate throughout the crowd as the starting players get into their assigned positions. Fallon takes her spot near Jackson, the two fist bumping as they get ready to play. She keeps a close eye on Scott, watching as he mumbles something under his breath. 

“You’ll be okay,” she whispers, knowing he’ll hear her. “Just try to keep your heart rate down.”

He barely glances in her direction, but she doesn’t miss the grateful smile he sends her. His stature becomes slightly more confident as the crowd continues to whistle and cheer loudly. It’s not long before the referee steps forward, placing the ball between Jackson and one of the players on the opposing team. 

“Down!” He orders them into position. Jackson and the other boy do as they’re told, crouching with their lacrosse sticks touching the ground. “Set!” The ref gives the final warning before the game starts, then the whistle blows. 

Jackson easily scoops up the ball, barely giving the boy in front of him a chance to blink. Fallon follows after the blonde boy, blocking for him as the other players try to knock him down. She manages to lose the player guarding her, freeing herself up for a pass. 

“Jackson!” She yells out at the same time Scott does. 

Scott’s wide open as well with no one coming after him. Fallon swerves to the side, trying to avoid another oncoming player that’s after her. She hopes Jackson takes the opportunity to pass to Scott as she now has more people blocking her. To her dismay, Jackson completely ignores Scott and tosses the ball to her. She grunts before managing to maneuver her way out of the trap the opposing player put her in. The ball lands in her net perfectly. Fallon turns to pass to Scott, but is stopped by player twenty-six on their team, taking the ball from her. 

She furrows her eyebrows, not understanding why he would do that. She shakes off her confusion before continuing her fast pace. Scott once again shouts for them to hand him the ball, but is completely ignored. Suddenly it makes sense to Fallon. They’re doing this on purpose as revenge for Jackson. She rolls her eyes, determined to get Scott the ball at least once during this game. 

Twenty-six throws the ball to another player who has at least three guards on him. Understandably, he misses the catch, giving the other team a perfect chance to swoop up the ball and head in the other direction. 

Scott throws his arms up frustratedly, “Are you kidding me?!” 

The Cyclones manage to get the ball back with number twenty catching the ball and passing it to Jackson. However, Jackson ends up getting slide-tackled, hard, which causes the ball to fly out of his lacrosse stick. Fallon and Scott seem to have the same idea as they see the white ball sitting idly on the grass. She nods at him, silently communicating that she’ll block for him if he wants to go for it. Unfortunately, Jackson sees the small interaction which causes the blonde to shoot up and dart for the ball himself, not wanting Scott to have any of the glory. 

The three of them all begin running towards the ball. Right as Scott is about to scoop it up, Jackson shoves him aside so that he’s able to regain possession of the ball. Scott falls to the ground with enough force that he rolls over several times. Fallon watches angrily as Jackson runs to score the first point of the game. She scoffs at his behavior, but diverts her attention over to Scott. She walks up to him, helping him on his feet. 

“Don’t worry,” she grumbles. “We’ll kick his ass.” 

The crowd in the bleachers starts to stand and cheer, while Stiles watches apprehensively, afraid that the unfair treatment towards Scott will cause him to inadvertently shift on the field. Coach, however, is thrilled by the fact that they scored the first goal of the game and screams from the sidelines, “That's it, Jackson! Get fired up! Fired up!”

It seems now that the rest of the team is purposely ignoring Fallon as well, seeing as she tried to pass to Scott. She waits patiently to hear what Scott has to say as he’s the one who can hear what they’re talking about in the huddle. 

Fallon can hear Lydia loud and clear from the stands. She’s standing on her feet, forcing Allison to hold up a sign that says We Luv U Jackson. Watching Scott’s reaction made her frown. She rubs his back, “Ignore her. We’ve got this. Seriously, don’t let it bother you,” she warns. “We have bigger fish to fry.” 

Scott grumbles under his breath but goes back to listening to the other players. Fallon stays quiet to allow him to hear and isn’t surprised by the information he reveals when he turns to face her. “They were keeping it from me on purpose. And now, they’re doing it to you too.” 

She glares in Jackson’s direction who doesn’t even seem to notice her death stare. They’ve always gotten along as teammates so it makes her furious to see he’s icing her out just because he has a weird need to be in the spotlight. When she glances back at Scott, his eyes flash yellow, and his fangs slowly begin to poke out beyond his lips. She tries to grip his shoulders to calm him, but he’s already storming away from her, getting into formation. 

“Crap…” Fallon huffs. She shakes her head, running back to her own spot as well. Her eyes constantly travel over to Scott, her nerves at their peak at watching him in the process of shifting midgame. 

Allison and Lydia once again hold up the sign, cheering on Jackson. Fallon shakes her head as Scott’s eyes flash yellow again. Lydia really knows how to get under people’s skin. 

“Down! Set!” 

The whistle blows making everyone get ready to try and gain possession of the ball. The two players at the ball come to a stalemate, neither one able to push past the other to grab the ball. The force of having two lacrosse sticks with pressure from opposing sides causes the ball to fly haphazardly into the air. Fallon takes this as an opportunity to help Scott. She darts forward, somehow managing to jump over the heads of the other players, using her smaller stature to gain more height. She makes eye contact with Scott and both of them immediately start running as fast as they can towards the goal.

She deftly dodges a few players, smiling as she hears her father, Melissa, and Sheriff Stilinski cheer in the distance. Seeing a few more players chasing after her, she throws the ball towards Scott who continues the journey. He ducks, weaves, and spins around the other players. He easily slides the ball into the net causing the crowd to jump on their feet ecstatically. 

Fallon runs up to him, the two chest bumping confidently. He wraps his arm around her as they run back to the center of the field, high-fiving their teammates who congratulate them on their play. Both of them find it rather amusing as they were just conspiring against them moments ago. 

“McCall and Donovan!” Coach screams. “Pass. To. McCall and Donovan!” 

The brunette girl smirks smugly seeing how furious Jackson is over the attention being shifted from him to Scott. Everyone returns to midfield, getting in position as the referee gets ready to blow the whistle. Once he does, another stalemate ensues before number forty-three on the opposing team snatches the ball and heads towards their goal. 

Unfortunately, he gets right into Scott’s line of sight. Fallon watches as the boy terrifiedly tosses the ball deliberately into Scott’s net. She can only assume some of his werewolf-itude is what caused the sudden change in ferocity from the other player. She doesn’t take enough time to question it though, focusing on helping Scott make another goal. 

Scott rushes down the field, ducking to avoid any incoming blows from the other team. He runs in a zig-zag pattern, his newfound confidence and skill starting to border the line between natural and supernatural. He takes his shot, throwing the ball so hard that it tears directly through another player's net and flies straight into the goal. Fallon’s jaw drops. How on earth could they explain that? 

With the past two goals, the score is now five to five with only thirty-nine seconds left in the final quarter. Tensions and spirits are high as both teams are desperate to bring home this win for their individual school. Fallon isn’t quite sure if Scott is going to make it through this game without fully shifting. Her and Stiles exchange worried looks, which seems to be the only look they’ve been able to send each other recently. He nods at her, encouraging her to continue playing. She sighs, getting back into her starting position. She tries to ignore Scott’s heavy breathing, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that his canine teeth are now actually as sharp as an animals. 

The chirp of a whistle causes Jackson and the opposing player to fight for possession, which ends up with the latter getting the ball. However, his journey down the field is short as he drops the ball. Scott manages to snag it and starts running the other way but suddenly stops. He freezes in place causing everyone in the team and in the stands to start shouting at him. 

“No, no…” Fallon starts inching towards him. “Scott, come on.” 

The clock ticks down to seventeen seconds and the other team starts circling Scott like sharks, trying to get the ball back. “Scott!” She shouts. “Pass the ball! Look at me! Pass the ball!” 

Time is fleeting fast as the girl bounces around the field. She prays that something inside Scott’s mind snaps and he gets back into the game. And somehow, her prayer is answered. His eyes snap up, the golden tint gone as he throws the ball over the heads of the oncoming players and directly into Fallon’s net. 

She acts quick on her feet, knowing that they don’t have much time left. She approaches the goalie, the boy looking slightly terrified by her determined demeanor. Fallon spins, using all of her might to throw the ball into the net. The goalie actually flinches at the amount of force applied to the ball. His net comes nowhere near her shot, missing it completely as it makes it perfectly into the goal. 

The referee blows his whistle just as the buzzer sounds that the game has timed-out, leading all of the supporters of the Beacon Hills Cyclones to leap to their feet and cheer ecstatically, thrilled to see the final score is six to five with Beacon Hills winning the game

Fallon wants to focus on the fact she just scored the game winning point, but her mind is immediately drawn to Scott. She looks over her shoulder and through the masses of people trying to find her best friend, or maybe Stiles. When she finally finds the boy she’s looking for, he’s darting off towards the school. The need to go after him is strong, but if he’s about to shift it would be a better idea if she had some backup.

“Stiles!” Fallon shouts, politely thanking people who congratulate her on the game. She weaves in and out of the crowd, finally reaching the bench where he is. “We need to go,” she tells him with a serious expression. “Now.” 

“Hold on,” the boy mumbles, looking at his dad curiously who is on the phone. 

The girl huffs frustratedly, but knows better than to stop Stiles’ snooping. She waits patiently, hugging her dad and Melissa who have come up to tell her how great she did. She’s a tad surprised though when Chris Argent approaches her with an almost calculated smile. 

“That was some impressive stuff,” he compliments. “Allison wasn’t kidding when she said you were good.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Fallon says appreciatively. “I’m glad you could come.” 

“Yeah, me too,” his voice sounds almost distant. “So, your teammate, McCall is it? He had some pretty interesting moves…”

Fallon swallows thickly, “Uh, y-yeah. Scott’s pretty good at what he does.” 

“Yeah,” his eyes are still focused on something in the distance. “Well, I’m looking forward to having more of a formal introduction with you this evening. That is if you still plan on coming over? I know Allison was really looking forward to it.”

His blue eyes are piercing through her soul. She chuckles awkwardly, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m really excited. I’ll be there, just after I change and stuff. Don’t wanna stink up your guys’ house,” she jokes in attempts to gain some oxygen back that’s been stolen from her lungs by the tense conversation. 

“Perfect,” he pats her back. “Congratulations again, by the way. I look forward to seeing more games.” 

And with that, he walks away from her. Fallon lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. When she finally turns around to talk to Stiles, his face represents how she feels on the inside. She furrows her eyebrows, “What’s wrong?” 

Stiles hesitantly makes eye contact with her, not really sure how to say his next sentence. “They let Derek out of jail…” he trails off, his mind still trying to process all of the information. 

“What?” Fallon tilts her head. She didn’t necessarily think he did it, but finding the body on his property was pretty damning evidence. It shouldn’t have taken just a few short days to get him off that easily. 

“Yeah,” he shakes his head. “And the real kick to the nuts is that my dad ID’d the dead girl. Laura Hale. His sister.” 

Fallon’s mouth goes dry as she tries to find the right words to say. “That would kind of explain the makeshift burial,” she says weakly. 

Stiles just narrows his eyes at her, not knowing if he’s more appalled learning the dead girl was Derek’s sister or the fact his best friend just tried to justify it. He decides it can be both. “C’mon,” he grabs her hand. “We’ve gotta tell Scott.”

How To Be A Heartbreaker

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

TW: Enemies to lovers, lots of tension, Eloise, Daphne, and Benedict teasing, brief sexual encounter at the end. Not full smut, but it is kinda spicy. I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed anything.

·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .

“Kill me now,” Y/N grumbles quietly to Benedict who watches with amused eyes as his best friend glares at his older brother.

“Oh how I love your dramatics,” he replies, placing a bubbly drink in her hands. She gratefully accepts it, taking a generous sip of it as she continues to burn holes in the side of Anthony Bridgerton’s head.

Y/N has been close with the Bridgerton family since her conception really. Violet and Y/N’s mom, Y/M/N, we’re pregnant with Y/N and Eloise at the same time. They went through the pregnancy together, wanting to give their daughters a built in best friend which both girls were extremely grateful for. Y/N and Eloise have been joint at the hip since birth. The only two people they let infiltrate their tight-knit bond is Benedict and Penelope.

For whatever reason, even though the rest of the Bridgerton family absolutely adores her, Anthony Bridgerton is the only one Y/N hasn’t been able to win over. No matter how hard she tries or how often she’s around him, he’s never been able to warm up to her. It’s rather infuriating. The snide remarks, the glares from across the room, the incessant complaining, the way he pushes her buttons, and how disrespectful he is towards women in general. Ever since he’s decided to look for a wife this season, his view on love and marriage has been nothing short of disgusting to the young woman. She pity’s the poor lady who ends up betrothed to that man.

“If you keep glaring at him like that Y/N you’ll get wrinkles,” Colin Bridgerton smoothly joins the conversation. Y/N’s always enjoyed Colin’s company, but she knew to not spend too much time with him as his not so secret admirer wouldn’t be too happy about it.

“Good,” she scoffs. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to participate in the marriage mart.” She downs the rest of her drink causing the boys to chuckle at her cynicism. Y/N has never been one to conform to societal norms for women. She took up fencing with the Bridgerton boys at a young age, much to Eloise’s dismay. Y/N’s parents allowed her to participate in such things, but Eloise unfortunately had no such luck.

“It really is a wonder why the men of the ton are not knocking down your door,” Benedict responds sarcastically, resting his hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

She smiles when she notices Eloise and Daphne exiting the house to join the rest of the family outside. The Bridgerton family, in addition to Y/N are all at Aubrey Hall for the time being. Violet is always kind enough to invite Y/N whenever they go. The family have been waiting for the older Bridgerton sisters to make their way outside for the friendly game of Pall Mall they always play. Even though friendly isn’t exactly the word most would use when watching this group.

“Perhaps it’s my charming good looks and prize-winning personality,” Y/N smirks sardonically before placing her glass back in Benedict’s hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to converse with two individuals who can actually challenge me intellectually.”

Her smooth insult leaves the boys laughing, shaking their head at her words. She saunters directly over to Eloise and Daphne, the three girls immediately getting immersed in whatever hot button topic they’ve decided to bring up. Y/N smirks when she feels Anthony staring daggers into the side of her head before storming over to his brothers.

“I don’t understand how you both can stand her,” Anthony grumbles. “She’s insufferable. I mean, how can they not see how evil she is?” He gestures in the direction where Y/N walked in.

Both Benedict and Colin follow his finger and see Y/N throwing her head back laughing as Hyacinth and Gregory run into her arms at full speed. The sun glows around her creating a beautiful silhouette behind the woman. She looks like an absolute angel which makes Anthony’s statement appear much more ridiculous.

Benedict quirks an eyebrow, “Yes… from the depths of hell that one.”

“I can see the crown of flames on her head,” Colin joins in on the sarcasm train, making Anthony fume in his spot.

“One of these days you all will see her for who she truly is,” swears Anthony. “I will make sure of it.”

“Are we ready to play?” Daphne calls out with a wicked grin. She’s more than ready to destroy her siblings and sibling adjacent. “Or are we going to dilly dally all day to avoid my inevitable win?”

“Ooh, the Duchess is feeling confident,” Eloise taunts. “Let’s see if she truly has the skills to back it up.”

Y/N snickers at the bickering sisters before looping her arm through Eloise’s as they head towards the mallets. Y/N knows how deeply Anthony loves his black mallet. He has ever since they were children. Before their petty rivalry escalated into what it is today, Y/N’s favorite mallet was the lavender one that is currently sitting pretty directly within her grasp. But by the competitive look on the eldest Bridgerton’s face, she’s feeling a darker color will suit her just as nicely.

Eloise is the first to try and grab her mallet but Colin stuck his hand out to stop her. If looks could kill, Colin would be six feet under by now. Eloise looks as if she could bite his head off. Her older brother notices the dangerous look in his sisters eyes before swallowing thickly, “Let us toss a coin.” His suggestion is calm. It’s rather typical of the third eldest brother to try and maintain harmony. Quite futile if you were to ask Y/N. Things tend to get nasty rather quickly.

“Last year, we promised to let the youngest pick first!” She recalls rather passionately. Y/N sticks her finger up in the air in order to second Eloise’s point. She distinctly remembers the conversation from last year when they were in the exact position, but then they allowed the eldest to have their pick first.

“We pick based on alphabetical order,” Anthony states rather harshly.

Y/N tilts her head, “How convenient that is for you,” she chides. “Someone already nervous about their future loss?”

“I don’t recall inviting you into the conversation,” he snaps. “You have no say in how we decide to proceed.”

“She has just as much of a say as all of us,” Daphne scoffs at her brothers behavior. “She’s been playing this with us since we were children.”

“That doesn’t give her any right over our tradition,” he insists with a glare. “We’ve always picked alphabetically and I will not allow her to ruin that.”

“Perhaps we should settle this on the planche,” Y/N suggests challengingly. She and Anthony have always been rather… rough when it comes to fencing. “I would love to show you just how much I can ruin things. Like your ability to produce offspring for example.”

Eloise snorts, slapping her hand over her mouth as Benedict looks away with amusement written on his face. Colin’s jaw falls slack and Daphne gasps loudly, punishing Y/N by slapping her arm. “Proper ladies do not speak that way.”

“When has she ever been a proper lady?” Anthony snarls.

“Okay, enough!” Daphne stops them, getting rather tired of the relentless noise. “The only proper thing to do is allow our guest to choose her mallet and strike and strike first,” she nods towards Y/N.

The H/C woman smiles politely, “Thank you, Daph.” The look she sends Anthony is nothing short of smug, rubbing her first victory in his face.

“What?!” He asks incredulously. “Did you not just get done stating how she’s practically an honorary Bridgerton?”

“And did you not just get done saying how she has no say?” Daphne challenges. “I’m simply abiding by what you said brother. Since I am an actual Bridgerton sibling, I will make the decision so she does not ruin anything for you.” Y/N and Daphne share a knowing look, finding humor in Anthony’s complete and utter shock. He did not realize how his words would bite him back so soon.

The rest of the siblings look more than pleased with this arrangement. Eloise pokes Y/N’s side as she watches the mischief twinkle behind her eyes. Colin gestures towards the container holding the mallets, “Miss Y/N, please, take your pick.”

“Thank you, Colin,” Y/N smiles widely over at the third eldest before sneering just at Anthony. The mischievous young woman leans forward, looking directly at the lavendar mallet. She’s chosen that mallet every time so no one looks surprised. At least until she smirks, leaning over her usual weapon of war and wrapping her fingers around the black mallet. She watches Anthony’s jaw fall to the floor as she pulls it out and there has never been a time where she’s felt more satisfied with a decision.

“Would you look at that?” Daphne chuckles, poking fun at her older brother.

“Oh, is this yours?” Y/N feigns innocence. “I’m so sorry Viscount, it must’ve slipped my mind,” she runs her hand up and down the handle, jutting out her bottom lip to show just how sorry she is.

Fumes. That’s all that is coming out of Anthony’s face. He wishes he could rub the pure expression of her face. “You know that mallet is mine,” he claims angrily. “It has been since we were young. You always play with the purple. You chose mine on purpose.”

“It’s actually lavender,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, not feeding into his anger. “But perhaps I needed a change in pace. I’m sure you’ll do just fine with a different color,” she shrugs. “Unless you need this as some sort of crutch?” She lifts a brow, holding it out towards him. “Like a baby with a bottle.”

Small snickers ensue and Anthony clenches his jaw, the muscles ticking with anger. “I do not need a crutch. I will play just as well with any other mallet.”

“I’m sure you will,” she nods patronizingly.

“Are we to stand here and listen to them bicker like a married couple, or shall we play?” Eloise whines. Anthony and Y/N both look at her like she has three heads, not believing the statement that just came out of her mouth. A small blush appears on Anthony’s face and before he knows it, the rest of his siblings are shooting forward to grab their own mallets. Due to his momentary stun, Anthony is immediately at a disadvantage. All the mallets get swooped up, except the lavender one.

He stares at it with an intense hatred. He clenches his fists causing them to pulse as if he were wrapping his hands around someone’s neck. They all look at him expectantly, waiting for him to take it. A low growl escapes his throat before he begrudgingly reaches forward and yanks it from the container.

“Let’s go then,” he says stiffly before walking to the game field.

The game was off to a relatively good start in Y/N’s eyes as she finds herself doing much better than the Bridgerton siblings. She immediately knocks her ball through the high arch of iron on the first strike, evoking claps from Benedict and a rather annoyed sigh from Eloise. Y/N pokes her friends side and Eloise sways her hand away before getting her own mallet ready to swing.

“I always forget how good you are at this game,” Daphne compliments.

Y/N brushes her off, “You flatter me, Daph. But believe me, I am nothing compared to you. You won’t last year if I recall correctly, no?”

A self-assured smile makes its way onto the Duchess’s face as she lifts her head up slightly higher. “Yes. Yes I did.”

Benedict claps teasingly for Eloise who completely missed her mark. She groans before stomping over the Y/N and Daphne with her arms crossed. “I might just start hitting him instead of the ball,” she huffs, directing her faux anger towards Benedict.

Y/N pats her back, “You’re doing well, El. Just stop focusing so much on beating your brothers and it’ll come much easier.”

“Oh shut it,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “You out of everyone here cannot be spewing that nonsense. You are about as competitive as they come. The only person who might be able to beat you in that area is Anthony.”

“Oh, Anthony can’t beat me at anything,” Y/n shakes her head.

“Wow,” Eloise scoffs. “You really just got competitive over who can be more competitive,” she looks at Daphne with a bewildered expression. “It’s a talent really how you manage to do that.”

Colin’s swing is similar to Y/N’s, going right through the small arch, but stopping just behind her ball. He groans, wanting to have nudged hers out of the way. When Benedict goes he swings a tad bit to hard. It would have gone through the goal and knocked both Colin and Y/N’s ball out of the way, if he knew how to aim properly. He throws his head back with a laugh as Eloise points a finger in his face with a triumphant bellow.

“Anthony, it is your turn,” Colin nods politely at his brother, trying to hide his amusement at the lavender mallet in his hand.

“I can see that,” the older brother grumbles, taking a step behind his ball. He gets in position mumbling quiet profanities at a certain woman for taking his lucky charm. When he swings, his ball goes flying, completely missing the intended target.

“Is someone out of practice there, Viscount?” Y/N calls out teasingly, swinging her mallet as a way to rub in her early lead. She walks over to her own ball and readies herself, “Why don’t I show you how a true professional does it?”

She cocks her arm back and once again hits the ball perfectly through the iron gate. Loud cheers erupt for the girl as she takes a rather obnoxious bow right in front of Anthony. A storm swirls behind his eyes and all he wants to do is yank her by the arm and get rid of the smug look she always seems to wear. It really is a shame she acts in such a way. She vexes him to absolutely no end. Anyone can see that Y/N is a beautiful woman. She always has been. Ever since they were children everyone would always comment on how gorgeous she would be when she got older, and they were right. Her e/c eyes shine constantly, like the stars in the sky. Her hair is always the perfect silky texture. She is extremely well-read and intelligent. She’d make the perfect bride. The only issue is that mouth of hers.

Anthony’s glare remains hard, but he silently scolds himself for thinking such positive things about her. It wasn’t obvious to any of the others, but Y/N could see a small flash behind his brown eyes. Something that was different from the usual hatred he holds for her. When she stands up straight from her bow, her eyes momentarily gaze over his face. She’s never really admired the Viscount in any sort of way. But being this close and fueled with as much tension as they are, it’s hard not to examine his chiseled features. She bites the inside of her cheek to prevent the flush creeping up the back of her neck as she stands under his scrutinizing stare. Y/N exhales before lightly bumping his shoulder and walking past him.

“Beat that,” she challenges.

As the game continues, loud claps, cheers, and bickering is all that is heard. Violet watches from her spot under the gazebo along with Lady Danbury with happy smile’s on their faces. Benedict runs over to Y/N, holding her to his chest as he tickles her for knocking his ball out of the spot it was in. He had the perfect shot and she made sure it wouldn’t last long. She squeals in his grasp until Colin quickly comes to her rescue. She smack Benedict’s chest with an out of breath laugh before moving back over to Eloise.

The younger sister screams happily when she slides her ball directly through the arch, highfiving her best friend for the victory. Everyone seems to be in rather good spirits, despite where they are at in the game. The only thing troubling is that every time Anthony goes, something seems to be on his mind as he barely misses his mark with each swing. Violet and Lady Danbury seem to be the only ones who have noticed his eyes traveling to his supposed “arch nemesis” right before he swings.

“I give it til the end of the trip,” Violet whispers to her friend.

Lady Danbury laughs, “Oh dear, I give it til the end of this match.”

When it reaches Anthony’s turn once again, he hits it and this time, it actually goes through the goal. The only issue is that it lands barely passed Y/N’s ball. The two share a tense glance before Y/N travels over to where her ball is. With one good hit, she could easily win this game and leave Anthony in the dust.

Eloise runs after her friend, “You have the chance to best him! You must take it,” she encourages.

“That would not be very sportsmanlike, now would it?” Colin asks rhetorically.

Y/N looks at him, her eyes meeting his. They both seem to soften for a moment until she smirks. “Since when has sportsmanlike conduct ever been a concern in our games?”

“She has a point, brother,” Benedict points out. “Kindness during a game of Pall Mall has never been a virtue within any of us.”

“What do you say, my lord?” Y/N asks Anthony who has been rather silent since their previous exchange. She lifts a perfectly manicured brow, “Are you in a losing mood?” She jests, trying her hardest to get a rise out of him. How she loves when he gets frustrated with her. Especially when he loses any sense of personal space, getting in her face as they argue. Those are her favorite moments as it is so much sweeter being able to put him in his place.

Anthony tries to remain unfazed, “My mood shall remain unchanged, regardless of your choice,” he replies with a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, is that so?” Y/N turns to fully face him. She tilts her head, analyzing him like a predator would their prey. Anthony swallows thickly, fighting off every urge to take the upcoming squabble elsewhere. “You would bravely bear the crushing shame of defeat? How unlike yourself.”

“Despite my brothers and sisters continuing to egg you on, you have been behaving with much more grace than your usual self Miss L/N,” he says, completely diminishing any attempts at her trying to evoke his anger. “I am pleasantly surprised at your conduct this game. Perhaps someone is finally losing their edge, hm?”

He wins. Y/N feels a rather angry fire burning in the pit of her stomach. She glowers, “Me? Losing my edge? Well, if that is the case, I’m sure you won’t mind me doing this.”

With the strongest swing she’s had yet, she knocks Anthony’s ball clear across the grass and into the trees many feet ahead. Her ball falls only a few inches in front of them and she feels a strong satisfaction when looking back at Anthony. His previous performance trying to diminish her hard work at angering him have not helped him in the slightest.

“Well done!” Eloise claps.

Anthony looks up, narrowing his eyes to the sky to avoid doing it directly at Y/N. He reluctantly brings his hands together in a celebratory clap in order not to appear too unruly. Eloise bumps Y/N’s shoulder, “You are sparing no mercy, and I absolutely love it!”

Suddenly, with the most mischievous smirk Y/N has ever seen him wear, Benedict walks up to his ball which is now the closest to where Y/N’s landed. Y/N’s smile drops as she watches him bring his arm back as far as possible, using his mallet to knock her ball directly into the tree line where she just sent Anthony’s. Her jaw falls slack as Benedict winks in her direction.

“What a shot brother!” Anthony celebrates loudly, feeling avenged by Benedict’s actions.

“Yes, what a shame isn’t it Miss L/N?” He jokes. “Think of this as revenge for sending my ball in the wrong direction earlier.”

Y/N grinds her teeth together but shoots him a fake smile, one that Benedict can easily see through. Her petty behavior causes laughter to erupt from everyone. “You two better go fetch them,” Colin points in that direction. “Unless you would like to quit, here and now?”

Anthony and Y/N glance at each other, both of them looking rather angry about their current predicament. They send challenging looks to one another, tempting the other to speak up first. Y/N sticks her nose up, “Absolutely not.”

Anthony sneers, “After you.”

Stomping off, Y/N rolls her eyes. “What a gentleman.”

The duo stomps rather over-dramatically into the green brush. Y/N huffs as she pushes a large branch out of her way. An evil grin comes over her face as she continues pushing the branch forward until she’s sure Anthony is close enough behind. As soon as she hears his footsteps drawing nearer, she releases the branch from her hold. She covers her mouth with her hand to prevent the laugh that’s about to escape as Anthony is whacked in the face.

He lets out a loud yelp, putting a hand to his face to make sure no extensive damage was done. He can hear the small snickers leaving Y/N’s lips and that is his final straw. He lunges forward, wrapping his arm around her wrist. She gasps as they’re suddenly face to face, noses practically touching.

“What one earth are you doing?” Y/N seethes, trying to pull herself away from him.

“What am I doing?” He scoffs at her. “What are you doing?” He leans down closer to her. “If I was any less of a gentlemen, I would punish you right here and now for your insolent behavior.”

Y/N laughs in his face, “Punish me? Oh, in your dreams Viscount. You cannot do anything more than take what I do to you. You are not my husband nor my father so you hold no power over me.” She rips her arm out of his hand and continues marching on, her heart still beating rather rapidly from how warm his breath felt on her face.

Anthony’s nostrils flare but the burning sensation on his hand were her supple skin once was keeps his true fury at bay. He frustratedly kicks a rock as some form of an outlet while following after her in search of their balls.

“You best hope your play does not hand victory to my brothers, or we shall never hear the end of it,” Anthony grunts out after the silence between them became too much. At this point it seems he’d rather argue with Y/N than be left with his own thoughts.

“I am not worried about Colin or Benedict,” Y/N smacks another bush out of her path. “I don’t see why it would be a problem if they won anyway considering you seem so hellbent on preventing my victory.”

Anthony goes to respond with a tone just as venomous until Y/N stops in her tracks. He follows her line of vision to see both her black and his lavender ball sitting in a large, almost lake size, puddle of mud. “You’ve have to be joking,” Y/N complains under her breath. “There is no way either of us would be able to hit these out of the mud without coming out looking absolutely dreadful.”

An idea seems to spark in Anthony’s mind as he looks at her with an idealistic smile, “We could always pluck them out,” he suggests. “No one would be any the wiser.”

“Are you suggesting that we cheat, Viscount?” Y/N asks him with an unusual expression on her face. Anthony can’t help the shudder that surges through him at her calling him by his proper title in that tone. She’s done it before, but this time simply feels different.

“Perhaps,” he nods. “The only two people who would know of our situation is us. I see nothing wrong with evening the playing field a bit.”

“Well, contrary to your beliefs, I play fair,” Y/N turns away from him and heads towards the balls. She has no issue getting a little dirty if it means making herself look better than the man behind her.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day where you’d be an honorable person,” Anthony taunts. “Even though it is just for sport.”

“I’ve always been an honorable person, Anthony,” Y/N huffs out as she gets ready to hit her ball. “Just because you refuse to see it, doesn’t mean it is not there. Besides, I would never cheat in your presence as I am more than sure you would advertise it to the rest of the group the moment we got back.”

“You would do the same!” He insists.

“Oh, I never said I wouldn’t,” she admits playfully. “I would absolutely reveal your scandal to anyone who would listen. But I cannot do that if I participate in the same bad behavior, now could I?” Anthony watches in awe as she submerges her shoes and the entire bottom hem of her dress in the messy liquid. She swings, easily knocking her ball out of the mud. She wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead before looking at Anthony, “Your play, my lord. Unless you do not wish to dirty those lovely boots of yours?”

“Do not worry about my boots,” he tells her coldly. Y/N only grins at how tense his shoulders get as he climbs into the mud right next to her. Even with the stink of the earth, she can still manage to smell the scent of mahogany, leather, and a tad bit of cinnamon. Even his natural smell manages to twist her stomach in knots. It’s so innocent, nice, compared to who he actually is.

She stares at him for a moment too long as he goes to whack his ball. His hits Y/N’s, surpassing it just slightly. When he glances back up to be egotistical about it, he sees she’s already looking at him. Time freezes momentarily as they stare at each other. They both try to make their eyes hard, but it seems almost impossible. Y/N’s tongue peeks out, coating her chapped lips and Anthony doesn’t have the strength to stop himself from glancing downward.

“Something you find interesting, my lord?” Y/N queries in an unusual quiet tone that greatly contrasts her boisterous one.

His eyes move back up to hers. He forces himself to snap out of whatever spell he was put in, “No,” he bluntly answers. “I believe it is your turn, is it not?”

Another beat of silence passes between them before Y/N nods, “Yes, you would be correct. I’m surprised you’re able to keep track of such complicated matters,” she affronts him with such ease, bringing back the agitation between them.

One of her shoes stays stuck in the mud, but it matters not to Y/N. She simply shakes it off, continuing on in her now brown-stained socks. Anthony huffs at how easily she switched back to her cold demeanor, “Must you always be so difficult?” He scolds, pulling her shoe out of the mud. He walks over to her and throws her shoes in front of her, “Put these back on before you step on something that hurts you.”

“No,” Y/N refuses as she goes to but her ball. “Besides, why do you care if I hurt myself anyway? You’ve never been one to get invested in my safety.”

Anthony lets out a loud yell of annoyance, “Why must you have this insufferable need to challenge me at every turn. You think you're so clever, so invincible. Why don’t you just listen to me for once rather than engaging in one of your reckless endeavors?”

“I will never listen to you,” Y/N grunts out as she hits her ball into Anthony’s causing it to fly high in the air before colliding with the branch of a large tree. When it lands, both of them notice the familiar wooden bench that sits below it. Y/N’s eyes soften as she watches Anthony’s entire demeanor change. She’s not really sure how to react or what to say to him. What does one say to a person when they’re standing dangerously close their father’s grave.

Y/N’s throat bobs up and down as she gulps. She ventures closer to Anthony, placing a hand on his shoulder, “We do not have to continue the game, my lord,” she whispers. “I do not want you to–”

“I’m fine,” he cuts her off harshly. “Why do you care about my feelings anyway?” He asks, mocking her response from earlier when he tried to return her shoes. Y/N goes to say something, but she’s too late as Anthony is already stalking off to get back to the rest of the group.

Guilt seeps through Y/N’s veins. She sighs, completely forgetting about the balls they’ve left as she chases after him. “Anthony, wait!” She calls out. They might bicker over the smallest things, but the last thing she wants is for him to leave in this state. The older man doesn’t slow for her calls. She hurries after him, ignoring the mud squelching beneath her feet. She frustratedly calls for him again but to no avail. When she finally feels as if he’s in reach, she tries to grab his arm but is stopped by her own foot getting trapped in the root of a tree. She cries out in pain, falling to the floor as her ankle twists in a trap made by Mother Nature.

Anthony halts dead in his tracks when he hears her yell. He turns around and watches as she sits on the floor, nose scrunched up as she tries to remove her foot from the roots. She winces at even the barest of touches. Suddenly the animosity that was just between them vanishes as he rushes to her side.

“What did I tell you about putting your shoes back on!” He scolds, but his voice is much more worried than it is self-righteous.

Y/N gives him an incredulous look, “Pardon me for being more concerned about your well-being than my footwear.” She groans as Anthony manages to lift her foot of its entrapment. “I wasn’t exactly thinking I would get mauled by a tree when I was chasing after you.”

“You should not have been running in the first place! Once again, you are reckless and have no regard for your own safety,” he shakes his head.

“I am not reckless,” Y/N argues. “I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

“No you clearly cannot,” he gestures to her foot. “You needed me to come over here and take it out for you or else you would’ve been stuck out here alone.”

“I would’ve done just fine without you!” Her voice cracks from her emotions being on overdrive. “I simply wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how much your father meant to you and yet even when I try to be nice you still act like an insufferable prat!” Her chest heaves up and down, their faces slowly getting closer together as the argument intensifies. “You have hated me since we were children and the one time I try to put that aside, you still belittle me and treat me as if I am beneath you. I am tired of your idiocy. You constantly have to think you are right, but how can one be right when they go about living their own life to please someone else rather than themselves?!”

Anthony is left stunned by her outburst. He doesn’t know whether to yell back or be impressed at how well she’s analyzed him. He does try to live his life in a way that benefits his family over him. He’s never tried to put himself first and clearly Y/N has taken notice. He watches as her face continues to turn bright red from anger. He feels his own red heat filling his lungs as he maintains eye contact. His face droops down to hers, getting impossibly close.

“You do not like me,” Y/N continues, ignoring the proximity. “I have been around you and your family since birth and you are the only one who cannot seem to stand me. My mere presence is a burden to you and you have never bothered to give me an explanation!”

“Of course I do not like you.”

“Then tell me why!” Y/N demands. “You at least owe me that much if we are going to go about the rest of our lives making each other miserable!” Her eyes are narrowed as she tries to fight off the tears threatening to appear at her waterline. “What did I do to you to cause all of this? Because I cannot think for the life of me of an inciting incident that earned your hatred from the beginning. Unless it is my birth that upset you so,” she adds sarcastically. “So tell me, Viscount. Why is it that you dislike me so?”

“Because- because you infuriate me!” He finally lets go of his composure, joining Y/N on the yelling train that seems to have just left the station.

Y/N inches closer to him, “And what is it that you think you do to me, hm?” She asks, poking his chest with her finger.

Anthony laughs at the preposterous idea, “What is it exactly that I do to you? Besides put up with your constant assault on my character?”

Y/N feels her senses getting rather fuzzy as Anthony’s grip on her leg seems to tighten. He’s conscious enough not to put pressure on her hurt ankle, but not enough to realize how deep his fingers are digging into the tissue. The way his eyes are boring into hers makes her tilt her head back, exposing the bare skin of her neck. His scent once again fills her nose and causes her breathing to become bated. “You…” she trails off as he suddenly moves his hand to corner her into the tree she is sitting next to, “you hate me.” Her answer comes out as a whisper as the two sit with a burning flame between them.

Anthony nods his head, “Yes, I do. I hate you.” He leans forward, giving Y/N no room for any kind of escape. Her breath hitches in her throat as she feels his body heat encompassing her. She doesn’t bother trying to move or make any sort of protest. “Every. Single. Part.”

His lips crash onto hers with a ferocious intensity, a clash of wills and pent-up emotions finally unleashed. Anthony’s hands threaded through Y/N’s hair, pushing her backwards to pin her fully to the tree for support. He leans into her body, evoking a small sound from her lips at the sudden sensation. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into his shoulders, drawing him nearer still. The kiss was fervent and searing, their breaths mingling in a dance of unspoken desires and long-buried passions. Each movement was deliberate and ravenous, conveying years of unacknowledged tension and unvoiced longing. The world around them ceased to exist as they lost themselves in the incendiary connection, a fusion of fire and fervor that left them both breathless and craving more.

Anthony takes a risk, biting her bottom lip to which he is pleasantly surprised by the soft whimper that escapes her as she allows him access. Their tongues fight in a battle for dominance, one that both work valiantly to win. Anthony grips her hip roughly, shocking her and handing him his inevitable win. When he removes his lips from hers, she throws her head back as he works his way down, kissing her jaw, her neck, the crook between her shoulder and clavicle. He sucks on the smooth skin just below the neckline of her dress, summoning a sinful moan from her.

“I believe this is the only time I’ve enjoyed hearing something come out of your mouth,” he mocks, continuing his artistry across her chest.

Y/N laughs sinisterly before pulling Anthony back up to her by his hair. He winces from the sudden shock of pain, his eyes darkening as he thinks back to when he said he would punish her for her behavior. This would just be added to the list. Y/N doesn’t relent her grip as she grazes her lips over his, “Why don’t you let me show you just how much you will like my mouth, Viscount?”

Anthony chuckles darkly, not expecting that to be the words she utters. He removes himself from his spot that kept her pinned to the tree before standing. He towers over her with a demanding look on his face, “Well don’t just sit there. Come over here and show me.”