Heart Monitor 1x06

Heart Monitor 1x06

Episode 7

To Fallon’s surprise, after her accident and spending pretty much all night in the hospital, when she returned home, Derek was still there. Pretty engrossed in his book to her delight. He was pretty concerned about her leg, which happened to be a clean break. He was furious when he found out what happened, but so was Stiles. It was interesting hearing them say pretty much the exact same thing without the other knowing. They both unknowingly agreed that Scott needs to step away from Allison to regain focus.

Stiles’ idea of getting Scott to understand his mistakes is by giving him the silent treatment. So sitting in their shared class, Fallon stares blankly at the white board, periodically writing down notes as Scott desperately tries to get them to talk to him. After a while she did start to feel bad. He has apologized incessantly since the accident and while Fallon did originally want to hit him with a car of her own, she slowly began to miss talking to him.

“Seriously?” Scott sighs upsetly. “You guys seriously are still not talking to me?” No response. “Fallon, you know how sorry I am. I mean, at least it was a clean break, right? My mom says they have a better chance at healing without complications.”

The girl looks down at the white cast covering her leg. He’s right, clean breaks do have a better chance at healing fully. She’s devastated though that she’ll have to sit out at lacrosse practice for the next couple of weeks, which is actually one of the main reasons she wanted to wring Scott’s neck. But knowing Coach, he’ll kill Scott before she does.

She reaches into her backpack, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. She pops one into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of water. She didn’t do it as a way to make Scott feel bad, but seeing him hang his head in shame out of the corner of her eye did make her feel slightly vindicated.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” He tries once again. Fallon can hear the sadness in his voice. She glances at Stiles, seeing if he’s ready to give in yet. Freckles shakes his head, commanding her with his eyes to stand her ground. She huffs, dropping her head into her hand with a frown. Scott leans forward even further, tapping Fallon on the shoulder. “Okay. What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and... that I went to Derek for help?”

Fallon’s head snaps towards Stiles faster than it ever has before. She makes a wild gesture with her hands, showing how desperately she wants to give her opinion on the matter. Stiles tries to stay strong, but the pleading look in her eyes causes him to groan. He exhales loudly out of his nose, “If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting im. But, obviously, I'm not talking to you…”

Fallon’s lip quirks up in a small smile. She lazily writes in her notebook, pretending not to care. “And if I was talking to you, I’d say that I’m proud of you for stepping up and getting help from someone who has more experience with this than you.” Stiles glares at her for complimenting him and she just shrugs. “It’s like the devil and angel on the shoulder thing,” she explains. “I’m the nice one.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles narrows his eyes, “And I’ve kissed Taylor Swift.”

Scott smiles brightly as things seem to return to normal between the three for a moment. Her and Stiles make eye contact, faces going stoic for a split second. They wordlessly communicate, making Scott wonder how they learned to read each other’s facial expressions so well. Both of them turn around at the same time.

“What did Derek say?”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Walking out of their class together, Scott sticks to Fallon’s side which isn’t heavily unusual, but she’s used to him taking up Stiles’ side, not hers. Most of the time when they walk together, Stiles is in the middle while Fallon takes up his left and Scott his right. But now she’s in the middle. She doesn’t mind it, it’s clearly him feeling guilty over what happened. He even took her backpack from her before she could even grab her crutches. If this is the new treatment he’s giving her, she’s definitely not going to complain.

“Wh--? He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asks him incredulously after hearing what Derek said to Scott.

“Yeah…”

“All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually us.” He gestures between Fallon and himself.

Scott sighs, “I know. That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it,” he explains.

Fallon tilts her head in thought, “I mean, it’s not impossible…” she admits. “I know it feels difficult right now, but Derek has control doesn’t he?” She points out with a shrug. “He obviously learned how to do it over time. I don’t think he came out knowing how to be a werewolf. While I do believe he came out with a leather jacket and angry cat face, I don’t think he came out being an expert on control.”

“How do you think he’s going to teach you?” Stiles asks, nodding along with Fallon’s statement.

“I don’t know,” Scott adjusts his backpack strap with an unsure expression. “I don’t think he does either…”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his friend's lack of knowledge, “Okay. When are you seeing him again?”

“He told me not to talk about it,” Scott answers. “Just act normal and get through the day.”

Fallon shoots him a pointed look, “When?” She asks, knowing there has to be a more specific time than that.

Scott looks at her, huffing as he knows he can’t keep anything from her after letting her get run over. “He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work.”

Stiles nods, “After work. All right. Well, that gives us to the end of the school day then.”

Scott furrows his brows, “To do what?”

Stiles and Fallon make eye contact, smiling in unison, “To teach you ourselves.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

When lunch rolled around, Fallon was summoned by Lydia and Allison, the two girls wanting to see how she was doing after all that happened. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t last long as Stiles strode by, grabbing her backpack and lunch tray and taking it over to their usual table. She watched after him, jaw agape while the other two girls just looked at her confused. He just stared at her, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to hobble over to him. Seeing as he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, she bid her two friends goodbye before venturing over to him.

That brings them to the present moment, her smacking the back of his head for his rude behavior. “Y’know you could’ve just asked me to sit with you like a normal person,” she scolds, plopping down in her seat.

Stiles takes her crutches, putting them on his other side so they’re not in her way. “If I would’ve done that you would’ve just put your finger up and told me to wait,” he points out. “At least this way, you couldn’t tell me no,” he smiles innocently.

Fallon narrows her eyes but can’t prevent the grin that spreads across her face. She shoves him playfully, “Don’t look at me like that when I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“You’re not mad at me,” he rolls his eyes, popping a french fry from her plate into his mouth. “You can’t be mad at me. You love me too much. Your life would be so boring without me in it.”

“What you call boring most people would consider peaceful,” she shoots back sarcastically.

Stiles reaches over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him as he messes up her hair. The two of them roughhouse for a moment before Scott not-so-subtly slides into the seat across from them, clearly still avoiding Allison.

Fallon tilts her head, still stuck in Stiles’ lap. They stare at him as he hides his face behind one of his textbooks. The girl lifts an eyebrow, “I think using the book as a shield is making your intentions more obvious,” she says. “Besides, she’s not even looking over here. She seems pretty engrossed in whatever that book is about.”

Scott peeks over the pages, noticing that his somewhat girlfriend isn’t looking in his direction. He exhales, lowering the book but not straightening his posture to full height. “So, did you guys come up with a plan yet?”

Stiles nods, silently checking with Fallon. “We think so.”

He stares at them hopefully, “Does that mean you guys don’t hate me now?”

“No,” Fallon takes a spoonful of yogurt.

“No,” Stiles scoffs in agreement. “But your crap has infiltrated Fallon and I’s life, so now we have to do something about it,” he answers sassily. “Plus, I’m definitely a better Yoda than Derek.”

“I choose to take on a more Haymitch Abernathy role in this situation,” Fallon shrugs. “Drunkenly making sure my pseudo children don’t kill themselves,” she points at the two boys.

“Okay,” Scott nods with a small smile. “Yeah, you guys can teach me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be your Yoda,” Stiles smiles.

“Yeah, you be my Yoda.”

“Your Yoda I will be,” Stiles says in a gruff voice, trying his best to mock the character from the films. Fallon chuckles, shaking her head at how horrible it was. “I said it backwards,” Stiles laughs.

“Yeah, I-I know,” Scott nods slowly, showing how he still has never watched the movies, despite how many times Stiles has begged.

“All right, you know what?” Stiles gets up angrily, grabbing Fallon’s bag and crutches before helping her up. “I definitely still hate you. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.”

He storms off, Fallon huffing as she tries to keep pace. She shoots Scott an apologetic glance, but by the way Allison is approaching him, Stiles having a fit about Star Wars is the least of the werewolf’s worries.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon’s theatre class had ended up being rather active for the girl’s current predicament. They were introducing new stretches and class bonding exercises to get everyone ready for the Beauty and the Beast production. She was upset that she couldn’t participate, but her teacher, Ms. Potter was more than understanding. She gave Fallon the script early, granting her a free period to read over it since she can’t do any of the activities in class.

So now she sits with a highlighter dangling from her mouth on the lacrosse field, her legs sprawled out. Her eyes gaze over the pages, writing small notes in her notebook about each character and what makes them tick. She briefly glances up as Stiles throws the equipment for Scott on the floor, looking at her with curiosity.

“What are you reading?” He asks, tossing his lacrosse bag at her to hold.

She catches it with ease, setting it down beside her. “The script for the play.”

“Oh,” he comments, not knowing it was that time already. “When are auditions?”

“Next week,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “I don’t think I’m gonna audition though. There’s just too much going on.”

Stiles looks at her incredulously, “What?” He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. You have to audition.”

“Stiles–”

“Fall, you are so good at singing,” he huffs. “You can’t just not audition. That would be like a crime to everyone’s ear holes.”

She playfully glares at him, “While I appreciate the compliment, there will be other shows for me to do. Right now, my priority is here with you and Scott.” She leans back on her arms, “Plus, I’m kind of stretched thin as it is with lacrosse and school,” she opens up honestly. “My counselor is already talking about enrolling me in a college English course next semester, so I just want to focus on getting through high school… and not getting ripped apart by a werewolf in the process.”

He looks at her with sympathy, but ultimately understands where she’s coming from. “All right. Well, you know that Scott and I would go see every show if you did decide to do it.”

“I know,” she smiles appreciatively.

At that moment, Scott comes running out of the school and over to his two friends. He stops in front of them, “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “It took me a minute to convince Mr. Smith to give me a free period,” he sets his backpack on the floor next to Fallon as well.

“It’s fine,” Stiles waves off hurriedly, grabbing something and handing it to Scott. “Okay. Now, put this on,” he commands.

Scott takes it, inspecting it with a confused look, “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He queries, unsure of how it would benefit them.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “I borrowed it.”

“Stole it,” Fallon corrects nonchalantly, still observing the script.

Stiles speaks defensively, “Temporarily misappropriated,” he counters before turning his attention back to Scott. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

Fallon shakes her head as Stiles pulls out a cellphone that definitely doesn’t belong to him. Scott’s jaw goes slack, “Isn’t that Coach’s phone?” He asks warily.

Stiles nods slowly, “That… I stole.”

“Why?” Scott looks at his friend, not even knowing where to start on labeling his issues.

“Because Master Yoda over here doesn’t understand the concept of rules,” Fallon smirks as Stiles looks more than offended. “Or laws, or personal boundaries. A side effect of your father being the sheriff.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear it,” he puts his hand up in her direction. “Last time I checked, that father got you out of a speeding ticket last week when you were practically flying through a residential area like Wolverine in X-Men Origins.”

“That was a very specific comparison,” Fallon snickers.

“Anyway…” he sends Fallon a look that says to stop interrupting unless she plans on being helpful. He points to the monitor on Scott’s wrist, “All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry... Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate,” he carefully explains the theory him and Fallon had been talking about.

“Like the Incredible Hulk?”

Fallon shrugs, “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.” She figures letting him think he’s a superhero will get him to try harder. It’s like Stiles and his unnatural fixation with becoming Spiderman. She lets him believe it could happen. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did. He definitely wouldn’t look half bad in the suit.

Scott smiles widely, “No, I’m like the Incredible Hulk!”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Would you shut up and put the strap on?”

The spastic boy tosses Fallon the phone, assigning her to keep track of his heart rate. The two boys travel out to the center of the field, Stiles duct taping Scott’s arms behind his back. Freckles smiles mischievously at Fallon from behind Scott. She raises an amused eyebrow, knowing this is Stiles getting revenge for the brunette girl.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period!” Scott complains as Stiles walks a few feet away, bending down to pick up his own lacrosse stick.

He blatantly ignores Scott’s words, “All right. You ready?” He asks, scooping a ball into his net.

“No.”

“Remember– don’t get angry,” Stiles warns him, cocking his arm back to launch the ball.

Scott shifts on his feet, eyeing Stiles unsurely. “I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” he voices.

Without another words, Stiles chucks the ball at Scott’s body, pelting him roughly. Fallon winces from her spot besides Stiles, glancing at the heart rate monitor. Still steady for now, only moving up one point. Stiles readies another ball, throwing it as hard as he can, nailing Scott in the chest.

“Oh, man!” The boy cries out. “Okay, that one kind of hurt.”

Fallon watches as a small satisfied smile makes its way onto Stiles’ face. He wiggles his eyebrows at her, offering his stick, “Wanna give it a go? It’s pretty therapeutic actually.”

“No!” Scott shouts with wide eyes. “Do not give her that stick.”

Stiles shushes him like a child, “Quiet. Remember, you’re supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm.” He reminds before smirking as he helps Fallon to her feet. He hands her the stick, looking Scott directly in the eye. He pats her back, helping her stay upright. “Give it a go.”

Scott starts muttering encouraging words to himself under his breath as Fallon adjusts her grip on the stick. She smoothly scoops up a ball, licking her bottom lip. She lifts the stick, throwing it roughly at her best friend. The ball collides harshly with his gut, making him double over in pain. It sounds like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“AHHH! Son of a bitch!”

“Nice!” Stiles chuckles, high fiving her. Scott shoots them an incredulous look which makes Stiles clear his throat awkwardly. He dismisses Scott, “Heart rate,” he points stiffly.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Scott screams at them with a heavily clenched jaw.

Fallon goes to sit back down, noticing his number climbing higher with every passing second. She shares a warning glance with Stiles before looking at Scott again. “Don't get angry.”

“I’m not getting angry!” He responds frustratedly.

Stiles continues his assault on Scott as Fallon carefully monitors Coach’s phone. She begins to get nervous as she watches the numbers climb higher and higher. 140. 141. 142. That’s when Stiles knocks him in the jaw, making Scott almost fall to the ground in pain. The boy tries to regain his footing, “Stop. Just wait– Wait, just hold on–” he groans, doubling over once again, but this time he actually collapses to the floor.

157. 158. 159. 160.

“Stiles!” Fallon gets his attention, a cautionary gaze in her eyes as she flashes him the phone. Scott continues groaning as Stiles places his stick on the floor. Suddenly the duct tape around his wrist flies off in different directions. Stiles and Fallon watch him with wide eyes. He’s shifting. The heart monitor starts beeping rapidly, his heart rate reaching high numbers that are nowhere near healthy for a normal person.

“Scott?” Stiles calls out warily, trying to find a way to calm him down.

His breathing gets heavier and deeper after a moment as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Fallon glances back at the phone to see the numbers slowly decreasing and returning to normal. She and Stiles let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“That could’ve gone in a seriously horrific direction,” she mumbles to him.

Stiles nods slowly, helping Fallon to her feet. The two of them travel over to the boy who is still folded over on the ground. “Scott, you started to change…” Stiles says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott breathes heavily as his pulse is still returning to normal, “From anger,” he adds. “But it was more than just that– it was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So Derek is right,” Fallon says thoughtfully. “It is anger that elicits a reaction.”

Scott shakes his head defeatedly, “I can’t be around Allison,” he says glumly.

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles questions.

“No…” he looks up at them sadly. “Because she makes me weak.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon walks alongside Stiles as they walk into Coach’s economics class. The two of them snicker at a joke Fallon told him on the way in, earning a confused glance from their teacher. For how funny that man is, he sure doesn’t seem to be a big fan of laughter. The two teens just giggle again at his look of confusion before finishing their journey to the middle of the class. Stiles sets Fallon’s stuff down in the chair next to Scott’s, the two boys not having let her carry anything of her own all day. It was endearing and annoying at the same time, but she let them do it.

Stiles goes to sit behind Fallon, but a quick panicked look from Scott gets his attention. “Stiles. Sit behind me!” He whisper yells.

Fallon looks up and sees Allison beelining it for the exact same seat. Stiles scrambles to the side, trying to get all of his belongings and himself into the chair before she can. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. Allison smoothly slides into the seat, smiling at Scott as she completely ignores Stiles. Scott turns in his chair, a frown plastered on his face as his plan to avoid Allison is not going as well as he hoped.

Fallon shoots Scott a sympathetic smile before reaching in her backpack to bring out last night's homework assignment. It wasn’t anything too difficult. Just a few pages of reading and a couple of questions to help summarize the important parts.

The bell rings loudly, indicating the start of the period. Coach turns to start writing about today’s topic of discussion on the board. She watches out of her peripherals as Allison leans forward in her desk to get closer to Scott. The boy tenses, sensing her growing closer in proximity. Allison doesn’t seem to notice the awkward tension as she goes to talk to him.

“Hey,” she smiles happily. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Scott barely looks back, “Uh, yeah. I’ve been, uh, super busy,” he looks at Stiles and Fallon for help.

His two friends shrug at his misfortune, Fallon sinking further into her chair to avoid watching this train wreck go down. Scott has a look of momentary desperation until he has to cover it up when Allison grows closer. “When are you gonna get your phone fixed? I feel like I’m totally disconnected from you.”

Yikes. Fallon’s phone buzzes with a text from Stiles.

She sneakily pulls it out, hiding it underneath her desk to respond. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed for her or for him.

She’s clueless and he’s awkward. Why can’t it be both?

True. She giggles at his reply. I feel bad. They’re both happy when they’re together. Sucks that they can’t be.

I mean, we don’t know that yet. Stiles counters.

He said she makes him weak. She reminds him.

Once he learns how to control it, it’ll be fine. He reassures her. We just gotta show him that he won’t hurt her. Or anyone else.

Yeah, ‘cause this gross couple-ey mutual pining crap is starting to get on my nerves. She rolls her eyes as Allison tells Scott she switched her lab partner to him. She loves them both together, she really does. But Fallon’s hopeless romanticism stops in the fictional worlds she reads about.

You’re such a romantic. Stiles smirks at her with sarcasm written on his face. It really is a shock that you’re still single.

Ditto.

Stiles kicks the back of her chair and she leans her head back, looking at him upside down. She smiles innocently, booping his nose before sitting upright again. He scoffs lowly, crossing his arms as he tries to act offended by her response.

A book slamming on a desk pulls everyone’s attention to the front. Coach Finstock has a menacing look on his face as he analyzes the class, “Let’s settle down,” he commands. “Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading.” Only one individual raises their hand, causing Coach to roll his eyes. “Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading,” he dismisses the boy, more annoyed now than he was before class. “How about, uh…” Everyone avoids eye contact with their teacher like the plague, trying to avoid being the one he calls on. “McCall!”

Scott looks up at him like a deer in the headlights, “What?”

Coach moves to sit on his desk, the tension within the small classroom slowly growing. “The reading.”

Scott shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “… Last night's reading?” He wonders, seemingly trying to stall so he doesn’t have to do it.

Coach grows irritated with the question, starting to realize that Scott didn’t do the assignment, “H-How about, uh, the reading of The Gettysburg Address?” He suggests sardonically making the rest of the class laugh. Fallon wiggles her own between her fingers nervously. Coach making fun of him like this is going to make him shift in front of everyone.

Scott looks even more confused, “What?”

“That’s sarcasm,” Coach reveals with a tilt of his head. “You familiar with the term sarcasm, McCall?”

He slowly turns to the two friends on his right, “Very,” he answers. Fallon simply glares at him while Stiles smiles proudly, patting Fallon’s back like it’s a team effort. Which, most of the time it is.

Coach huffs, looking at him expectantly, “Did you do the reading, or not?”

The boy plays with the pages of the book in front of him, his embarrassment increasing. “Um, I think I forgot…”

“Nice work, McCall,” his teacher praises fakely. “It’s not like you’re not averaging a D in this class.” He leans forward on Scott’s desk, his anger being replaced by concern. “Come on, buddy. You know I can’t keep you on the team if you have a D.”

Fallon’s attention is stolen when she hears the familiar beeping of Coach’s phone tracking the heart monitor. She pulls it out of her pocket, eyes widening when she sees Scott’s pulse rising. Stiles leans forward, watching along with her as the numbers start to increase with everything Coach says.

“How about you summarize, uh, the previous night’s reading?” He suggests. 98. 99. 100.

Scott silently shakes his head, hoping that he somehow finds a supernatural way to turn invisible. “No?” Finstock mocks. “How about, the uh, the night before that?” Scott fiddles with his fingers as he avoids eye contact. 122. 123. 124. “How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read in your entire life?!” 135. 136. 137.

“I-I… uh–”

“No? A blog?” Coach asks, looking for any sort of hope that Scott’s done something. “How about, uh, h-how about, uh, the back of a cereal box?” Scott tries to hide his face behind his hand as their teacher continues grilling him. Fallon is now bouncing her leg up and down, hoping that Scott gets some sort of reprieve from this. “No? How about the adults-only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?” When Scott doesn’t answer, Coach gives up and goes to retreat back to his desk. “Thank you, McCall, thank you. Thank. You. McCall.” He emphasizes with a slap to his desk. “Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation.” 159. 160. 161.

Fallon looks at Scott, trying to comfort him with a sympathetic smile, but he doesn’t notice. His face simply grows redder and redder and his chest heaves up and down with angry breaths. “You just blew it for everybody,” Coach continues. “Thanks. Next practice, you can start with suicide runs. Unless that’s too much reading.”

Suddenly the monitor stops beeping as rapidly. Fallon glances at it surprised as she watches his heart rate start to go down. Despite all the laughter and snickers from their classmates, it’s actually going down. Fallon and Stiles visibly relax and when they look over to their friend, they see his arm reaching backwards. Allison is holding his hand tightly, rubbing her thumb across the top of it comfortingly. Fallon tilts her head. Maybe Scott was right in a way. Allison is his weakness, but in a way that gives him control. She keeps his anger at bay, keeps him grounded.

When the bell rings, they all could not be happier to get out of there. Scott still looks a bit mortified after everything that happened. Stiles once again grabs Fallon’s bag, carrying it on his shoulder. Allison bids her goodbyes to Scott, heading in the opposite direction the trio is. As soon as they are sure she’s out of ear shot, Fallon smacks his arm, “Dude, it’s her.”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, confused by the random statement.

“It’s Allison,” Fallon elaborates while Stiles nods along.

“Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon?” He brings up. “You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her.”

“Okay…” Scott says, still not understanding what they’re getting at.

“Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field,” Stiles adds, trying to see if he can put it together.

Scott nods with a small smile, “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, that's what brought you back so you could pass the ball and we could score,” Fallon finishes explaining. “And then, after the game, in the locker room, you didn't kill her– at least, not like how you were trying to kill us.” Scott frowns, sending her a pointed look. Fallon huffs, “She’s like your anchor is what I’m saying. She brings you back. No need to get your werewolf panties in a bunch.”

Scott shakes his head at her statement, “No, no, no. But it's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her, or-or touching her–”

Fallon’s nose scrunched up in disgust as Stiles cuts him off, “No, that’s not the same. When you’re doing that, you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, y’know?”

“I really do not want to be having this conversation with you two,” Fallon grumbles uncomfortably, especially when she notices the smirk on Scott’s face. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut, “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

He chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah,” he admits. “Sorry.”

“Just don’t ever give me any details on anything you guys do, okay?” Fallon says before shaking off her disgust. “Anyway, back in the classroom when she held your hand, that was different. She may be your weakness per say, but not in the way you originally thought. I think she actually gives you control. You might go feral if she gets hurt, but that’s besides the point. She’s what actually keeps you human.”

“You mean because I love her?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods.

Fallon’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden admission. She wasn’t expecting Scott to just randomly admit that out loud. He apparently wasn’t expecting himself to say it either, “Did I just say that?” He asks them.

“Yeah,” Fallon smiles softly. “You did.”

Scott gets even more giddy than he already was, readjusting his straps as he continues to profess his love. “I love her.”

Stiles rolls his eyes impatiently, “That’s great! Now moving on–”

“No, no, no, really– I think I’m totally in love with her,” he insists.

“And that's beautiful. Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please?” Stiles gesticulates over dramatically. “Because you obviously can't be around her all the time.”

Scott snaps back, refocusing on the task at hand. He nods, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Sorry. So, what do I do?”

“We don’t know,” the boy huffs, pausing for a moment. “Yet.”

Scott looks at him alarmed, “Oh, no. You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” Stiles smirks.

“Is this idea going to get me in trouble?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Fallon nods, not knowing the specifics of the plan, but knowing Stiles well enough that it’s going to entail some more revenge.

Scott groans, “Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?”

Stiles nods rapidly, “Yeah, definitely. Come on.”

Fallon crutches along behind the two boys, furrowing her eyebrows as they head out to the parking lot. Stiles looks back at her and she tilts her head, silently asking what his plan is. The boy simply shakes his head, mouthing “just wait.”

Scott looks just as lost as Fallon, “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Hold on,” Stiles looks into the distance as if he’s checking something before turning around to instruct Scott. “Okay, stand right there. Do you have your keys?” Scott pulls them out to show him. “Perfect. Hold ‘em up like so,” he demonstrates, lazily holding his arm up in the air. “Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?”

“Okay…”

“Fallon, my partner in crime, come stand with me please,” Stiles requests and she moves over to him. “Just keep holding it right there…” He summons Fallon to follow him as he sneakily walks over to the black truck behind them. She narrows her eyes as she watches him pull out his own keys. Her jaw drops as Stiles nonchalantly keys the truck before sliding his keys back into his pocket. He taps her shoulder, telling her to call attention to it.

Fallon looks at Scott who’s silently begging her not to do what Stiles is saying. She glances back at Stiles who is just nodding menacingly. “Do it,” he whispers.

She sighs, sending Scott an apologetic look, “Dude! What the hell do you think you're doing to that truck?!” She yells fakely. Stiles has to hold back the mini celebration he wants to have as the owner of said truck turns around.

“What the hell?!” The student yells, approaching Scott who nervously fumbles with his keys. He tries to shake his head, saying it wasn’t him who did it, but the other student clearly isn’t buying it.

“Oh my God!” Fallon shouts, flinching backwards as the guy socks Scott in the face without hesitation.

Stiles grips onto her as Scott tries to fight the guy back, but he’s over powered when the other student’s friends decide to join in. Scott is thrown to the floor, giving the others the upper hand as they drag him backwards. They continue hitting him in the face and kicking his abdomen. Fallon hears the phone beeping once more and she sends Stiles a glare.

“This was your brilliant idea?” She snaps.

“If he just thinks of Allison, it should work!” He defends. His eyes travel back to Scott as Fallon pulls out the phone. His heart rate is spiking once again. “Ahh,” he taps his foot nervously. “Come on. Stay calm. Stay calm.”

Fallon looks over her shoulder, “Is there really no one here to stop this? No teachers? Nothing?” She asks with a scoff.

“Oh, that's not okay.” Stiles winces. 129. 130. 131. “Scott, come on, buddy…”

Fallon feels the need to interfere, but the way Stiles is clutching onto her prevents her from going anywhere. She holds her breath, waiting for this nightmare to be over. She knows Scott will heal from all of this, but it’s still hard for her to watch him get beat up like this.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Harris comes barreling through, barking at the assailants to stop. The brunette girl never thought she would be grateful to see Mr. Harris, but she stands corrected. The other boys run off, leaving Scott on the floor with a bloodied up nose and a decent amount of bruising. Something probably broke, but isn’t visible due to his supernatural healing.

“What do you idiots think you’re doing?” Harris asks harshly, glaring down at Scott through his glasses.

None of them could even bother responding to his insult, the only thing they’re focused on is the fact Scott managed to control his rage. Stiles and Fallon smile at each other.

“He did it.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Detention.

Fallon should’ve assumed that this is where they were going to end up after Mr. Harris caught them outside. She just wished she brought something more entertaining to school today so she could occupy her mind while being stuck here. She has a chair pulled up at the end of Scott and Stiles’ table. The three of them sitting rather dejectedly even though they technically just succeeded in teaching Scott control.

The brunette girl sketches in her notebook, drawing the Beacon Hills woods from memory. Stiles watches her interestedly, leaning forward to look at her work. He tries not to move too far forward as her broken leg rests on his lap for some form of elevation.

“That's really good,” he compliments.

She smiles, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a scoff, like she’s stupid for even asking such a question. “Like I would frame that. Y’know, if I had the money to buy a frame… How about I hang it on my fridge?”

Fallon laughs softly, ripping the page out and handing it to him. “Do what makes you happy.”

He grins, carefully putting the drawing in his backpack. The two of them look at Scott who shifts around in his seat. He’s antsy to get out of here. After a moment, he finally speaks to Mr. Harris, “Excuse me, sir?” He gets their teacher’s attention. “Uh, I know it’s detention and all, but, uh… I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.”

Despite Scott’s polite request, Mr. Harris just grins fakely at the boy, looking back down at the paper he is grading. Fallon shakes her head annoyed. She didn’t understand how someone who hates kids could choose a profession where they sit with them all day.

Scott tries to go back to working on his homework, but can’t stop himself from talking to his friends on the other side of him. “You knew I would heal,” he says, with an almost impressed tone of voice.

“Yep,” Stiles nods. “We both did.”

“So you did that to help me learn?”

“Yep,” he repeats, rubbing his hands together.

“…But partially to punish me.”

“Thought that one was obvious,” Fallon mutters, hitting her pen on the desk to a steady rhythm.

Scott sighs, looking at them sadly, “Guys, you’re my best friends,” he says, regret etched in his eyes. “And I can’t have you both being angry with me.”

Both her and Stiles pause for a moment. Fallon sucks in a deep breath, looking at Scott sincerely, “We’re not angry at you anymore.”

Stiles turns to him, “Look. You have something, Scott, okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So, that means you don't have a choice anymore– it means you have to do something.”

Scott nods his head, really taking in Stiles’ words. “I know,” he agrees. “And I will.”

“Just next time a car comes barreling at me and Allison, try to give me a five second warning so I can at least try to save myself,” Fallon says lightheartedly.

“There won’t be a next time,” Scott shakes his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

Fallon smiles toothlessly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. Stiles places his on top of theirs, all of them coming to a truce. Mr. Harris watches from afar, his frozen heart slightly touched by the display. He rolls his eyes, “All right, all three of you– out of here,” he gestures towards the door with his head.

The three of them look at him with wide eyes, but nonetheless stand up and start collecting their stuff. For once the boys allow Fallon to carry her own backpack. She wings it over her shoulder and adjusts herself on her crutches before following after them.

“Miss Donovan,” Mr. Harris calls out. She internally screams, not wanting to speak to him more than she has to, especially after what her father said to him on parent-teacher conference night.

She turns, “Yes sir?”

“I hope this shows that I do not hate you, Mr. McCall, or Mr. Stilinski. I meant what I said. I see a potential in you that I… struggle to see within them. Or at least I did,” he concedes. “But if I keep witnessing displays like that,” he refers to their conversation, “then perhaps I can admit where I was wrong. They aren’t all bad.”

Fallon shuffles awkwardly, not knowing how to react to him being kind. “Thank you?” She says it more as a question than statement.

Mr. Harris nods, “And I hope your leg gets better. I’m sorry to hear that happened to you.”

“Yeah…” she nods. “I’m all right though.”

“Well, have a good rest of your day,” he says, suddenly reverting back to his cold demeanor as he looks back down at the worksheets in front of him.

She sighs, heading back towards the door, “You too.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon didn’t even get a chance to get dropped off by Stiles before Scott called them, explaining that Derek showed up to the animal clinic and attacked Deaton. The older werewolf thinks that Scott’s boss may be the Alpha. Hearing that made the girl's blood run cold. She’s spoken to Deaton a couple of times and she never would have guessed him to be the murderous werewolf they’ve been looking for.

Scott requested them to come pick him up because he told Derek to meet them at the school. So Stiles and Fallon did a quick pit stop at his house to grab supplies they’ll need to break into the school and then they quickly go pick up their friend. When the arrive, Scott picks up Fallon, helping her out of the jeep.

They move to the trunk, Stiles glancing around worriedly, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott admits.

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, “But we’re still gonna do it…?” She asks incredulously.

“Can you think of something better?” Scott questions a bit harshly.

Stiles shrugs, “Well, personally, I’m a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away…”

Scott gives him a deadpan look, “Just make sure we can get inside.”

The headlights from Derek’s Camaro practically blind Fallon as he pulls up. She glances down at her watch. Ten-thirty. She hopes her dad believed her when she said she’d be sleeping over at Stiles’. Noah and him are working the overnight shift so as long as they choose to believe her and Stiles, they should be okay.

“He’s here,” she mumbles to Scott and Stiles.

Scott’s the first one to approach Derek as he smoothly slides out of the driver’s seat. Fallon crutches behind Scott, peeking out from behind his shoulder to look at Derek. “Where’s my boss?” Scott demands darkly.

“He’s in the back,” Derek replies shortly, nodding to the back window of his car.

Fallon glances through the window seeing Deaton tied up and knocked out. She feels bad for the man, even if he is the Alpha, there is no way he's waking up without a creak in his neck. Stiles scoffs, “Oh, well, he looks comfortable,” he comments sarcastically.

Derek shrugs, his suspect’s comfortability not a concern to him in the slightest. Stiles shakes his head in annoyance before waving at Scott to follow him towards the school. Fallon decided to stay outside as she didn’t feel like moving super far with her crutches if she didn’t have to. They tend to dig into her armpits when she walks around excessively. She removes them from under her arms and leans against the Camaro, figuring Derek wouldn’t mind.

“Wait–” Derek calls out, confused as to what they're doing. “Hey. What are you doing?”

Scott turns around, “You said I was linked with the Alpha– I’m gonna see if you’re right,” he replies before finishing his journey to the entrance of the school.

Fallon glances into the window and frowns when she looks at Deaton. She still can’t even fathom that he could be the Alpha. He’s so kind, gentle even. He takes care of animals, he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not on purpose anyway.

Derek eyes her for a moment before slowly inching closer to her. He points to her leg, “How are you feeling?” His voice was low, gruff—almost like he was forcing himself to ask.

She looks up at him with a shrug, “Okay, I guess. Just a little sore. It’s also really hard to scratch when I have an itch,” she admits. “Not that you needed to know that last part.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, hands buried in his pockets. “Friends can share those details, can’t they?” He lifts an eyebrow, leaning against the car alongside her.

Fallon smiles at him, “Yeah, I guess they can.”

“Have you been taking your pain medication?” He questions curiously.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Actually… I may have forgotten tonight,” she says thoughtfully. “I left my backpack at Stiles’ house. Haven’t exactly had a minute of downtime today to think about it.” She tried to keep her tone light, but she couldn’t help the slight edge of frustration that crept in. She wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, this...weak.

He glowers at her for a moment, “You better take it when you get back there,” he says strictly. “If you’re in pain, it’s only going to slow you down.”

She met his gaze, surprised at the concern lacing his words. It wasn’t like Derek to show he cared—at least, not openly. “I’m not planning on going anywhere fast, Hale.”

Derek huffed, almost like he was amused. Almost. “Good. Because if you do, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite herself. “Are you offering to catch me if I do?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes searching hers for a beat too long. “You wouldn’t need to be caught if you were more careful,” he said finally, his tone firm but lacking its usual bite.

Fallon let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really bad at this whole comforting thing, you know that?”

“I’m not trying to be comforting,” Derek replied, his eyes flicking back to the school. But his posture had softened just a fraction, his stance less rigid than before.

They fell into silence again, the sounds of the night surrounding them. Fallon shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on her leg. “So what exactly was your original plan when you were gonna pick up Scott?”

Derek’s jaw tightens, “Teach him control,” he answers.

“Okay, obviously,” she rolls her eyes. “But how?”

“Test him. See what he can handle. Try to help him find a way to ground himself,” he explains briefly. “And if he couldn’t figure it out…”

“Then you’d step in,” she finishes for him. She looks at him, “Would you hurt him?” She wonders softly. “Y’know… if he couldn’t do it.”

He glances at her again, his expression softening just a touch. “If he puts anyone else at risk, yes.”

She nods, appreciating his straightforwardness. It was something she’d come to value in Derek, even if he was rough around the edges. “I can handle myself, you know. A broken leg isn’t going to stop me.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her leg before meeting hers again. “You shouldn’t have to.”

The words hung between them, heavier than she expected. Fallon felt her chest tighten, the weight of everything they’d been through pressing down on her. But instead of feeling stifled, she felt… understood.

“Thanks, Derek,” she says quietly, her voice sincere.

He gave a short nod, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment before turning back to the school. “Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” he muttered, the gruffness back in his voice.

Fallon smiled to herself, leaning back against the car. “No promises.”

All of a sudden, out of nowhere the wimpiest howl Fallon has ever heard echoes over the PA system. Her jaw drops as she fights off the urge to laugh. She couldn’t even think of what to classify that as. It sounded like a cat having gas pains.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Derek winces as if listening to that was physically painful. Truthfully, it was. She normally tries to be an encouraging person, but that was awful. She’s pretty sure her ears would have bled if it had gone on any longer. She silently hopes that Stiles finds some way to inspire Scott to dig deep. Because at this rate, there’s no way the Alpha is coming.

When the second howl comes through, it actually makes the girl jump. This one is deep and powerful. It manages to cause the building to shake, making the doors vibrate with a loud jangle. A surge of fear fills Fallon’s veins as she realizes that this is it. There’s no way the Alpha could ignore that. She’ll have to face him again. Derek can sense the sudden shift in her demeanor. He can smell the chemo signals radiating off of her. Her face remains still, but her insides are twisting in ways they shouldn’t be.

“Hey,” Derek gets her attention. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he reassures.

She nods, not having the ability to come up with a more witty response. She tries to shake off the overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, but it continues to linger over her. Eventually Scott and Stiles make it out of the school, meeting a very pissed off Derek and a concerned Fallon. “I’m gonna kill both of you,” the elder of them threatens furiously. “What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?”

Scott tries to apologize genuinely, but anyone can see how proud of himself he is. “Sorry… I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

“Yeah,” Stiles scoffs excitedly, “it was loud… And it was awesome…” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

Fallon can’t help but smirk, pushing her growing worries aside. “Gotta admit Scotty, that was impressive.” She stiffens when noticing Derek’s glare, “I mean– not impressive. Not impressive at all,” she clears her throat awkwardly.

Derek looks at her incredulously, “Shut up.”

Her lips form a tight-line. So much for the moment they just shared. Stiles narrows his eyes, “Don’t be such a sour-wolf,” he mocks, pulling Fallon closer to him and Scott. She stumbles slightly, trying to get ahold of her crutches.

“Could you be a bit gentler, please?” She scoffs.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asks snippily, pointing to Derek’s car which is now open.

“What?” The man’s eyes widen as he turns around. He looks baffled as he sees the backseat is empty. The nervous feeling fills Fallon’s gut again. Deaton was knocked out cold. There’s no way he could just get up and walk out without at least one of them hearing him. “I didn’t do anything,” he tells them.

“He didn’t,” Fallon confirms. “We’ve been talking the whole time.”

However, nothing else can be said as hot blood spurts out of Derek’s mouth and onto Fallon’s face. She stumbles back in shock before screaming loudly. Derek is being lifted in the air, claws belonging to the Alpha ripping straight through his back. His green eyes are wide as he chokes on his own bodily fluids.

Fallon tries to tell herself to move, but her body won’t listen. Staring into the bright red eyes of the creature that invaded her space, who made her feel unsafe, rendered her paralyzed. She can’t even blink as she watches the Alpha chuck Derek across the parking lot into the wall of the school. His body hits the ground with a loud crash. She makes eye contact with the monster as Scott and Stiles pick her up, carrying her into the school. She can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it. Again, the expression it wears is almost mocking. Like it’s silently telling her she’s existing on borrowed time.

She’s only brought back to earth when the doors to the school slam shut, both of the boys setting her on the ground before holding the doors closed. Her eyes still look distant, disturbed. Scott and Stiles share a concerned look, not just for their situation but for their friend who is once again covered in Derek’s blood.

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.

your recent aaron au is so good OMGGG🫠🫶🏻🫶🏻

You’re literally so sweet! Thank you so much 🤍🤍 I appreciate you taking the time to read it!!!

Prologue

Episode 1

     A small bead of sweat drips down the little ten-year-old girl’s forehead as she grips onto her father's hand tightly. She watches anxiously as kids run back and forth, screaming at the top of their lungs during recess. Her eyes travel up to her father's, her bottom lip quivering just slightly knowing she’ll have to let go. She’s been to at least four schools in the past year and has not been able to make a friend. At least one that sticks anyway. 

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly to her father. “You said that I’m older than all of them. So why do I have to go play?” 

The young girl, Fallon Donovan, was supposed to be in the fourth grade, but due to her fathers job the two were constantly moving which forced her to stay back a grade. She didn’t like the feeling of being held back. She knew deep down that all the rest of the kids would assume it’s because of her lack of intellect. Which isn’t true at all. She just hasn’t stayed in a place long enough to get caught up with each district's curriculum as it differs from place to place. 

“Because sweetheart, you gotta go try to make friends,” her dad tries to convince. 

“But why do I have to be stuck in this grade? You always tell me how smart I am. Why can't I just go with the older kids?” 

Michael Donovan sighs, crouching down to his daughter's height. He can’t help but blame himself for their current predicament. Ever since Fallon’s mother Grace passed, he’s been struggling to make things work for the two of them. “You are smart,” he encourages. “The smartest kid I know. But you know that it’s not your fault you got held back, right? It’s just because daddy’s job moves us around a lot, so you just need time to catch up to what these kids are learning,” his explanation is soft and gentle, bringing Fallon a sense of ease.

“But what if we don’t stay long enough?” She questions, swaying back and forth. 

Michael moves a stray piece of hair that fell out of her haphazard fishtail braid. He wasn’t exactly proud of his handiwork, but he’s trying to get the hang of it. “I think this will be our last stop for awhile, Fall. I promise,” he reassures. He grunts before standing back up to his full stature, patting his young girls back. “Now go out there and show those kids how awesome you are.” 

Swallowing thickly, Fallon wraps her small arms around her fathers legs before running off to the playground. She doesn’t look back at him, knowing if she does she might never actually be able to stay at her new school. Her father watches after her with a fond smile. His brave girl. Doesn’t even need to wave goodbye. He shoves his hands into his jeans and travels back over to his car, hoping that his daughter has a good day. She may be his little girl, but he’s aware that her attitude can be rather dangerous. Fallon is no stranger to being suspended from schools for her sarcasm and deadpan threats. 

The ten year old finds her way over to the swing set, noticing how there’s not many kids there to bother her. She pushes herself off the ground, using the chains to remain steady as she begins to swing back and forth. Fallon doesn’t mind being alone for the time being. She wasn’t expecting to make any friends on the first day. She is the new girl after all. 

As she kicks her feet harder, she doesn’t even realize how high she truly ends up going. The air catches her hair, blowing it backwards which causes a small smile to etch its way onto her face. The cute grin is short-lived though when she glances over to the sand pit and sees a group of four boys taking transformer toys away from another two kids. She narrows her eyes, jumping off the swing. Her feet kick up sand as he marches over to the small pit. 

The two kids being bullied are no doubt in her grade. One of them is a pasty white, freckles decorating his little body. His hair is a lighter brown that sticks in many different directions. The other boy’s jaw is a little lopsided which Fallon finds rather endearing. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown, and his hair is a bit darker than his counterparts. 

“Give it back, Tony!” The pasty one yells, standing from his spot to appear more intimidating. “That's ours!” 

“Oh,” Tony fake pouts, teasing the two boys with the toy he just stole. “What are you gonna do about it? Cry like the little baby you are?” His friends snicker behind him which only makes Fallon’s blood boil hotter. 

“Just leave us alone,” the other boy begs. “We didn’t do anything to you.” 

“Zip it, McCall!” Tony snaps before kicking sand up at the both of them. The two boys cough and wipe their faces to try and get the sand out of their eyes. 

“Hey!” Fallon yells, shoving the bully as she steps in between his group and the two boys that have been targeted. Tony stumbles backwards as Fallon glares at him harshly, “They said leave them alone.” 

Tony and his friends look at each other, unsure of how to react. That is until the ring leader himself walks up to Fallon with a cocky grin, “And why would we listen to you? You’re just a stupid girl.” 

“I am not stupid,” she growls. “Now give them their toys back.” 

The two boys she’s protecting watch her in complete awe. No one has ever stood up to Tony, ever. That’s how they knew she must be new to the school. She wasn’t afraid of him or his friends. Even though she was much smaller than the rest of them, she still stood her ground which is more than most of the kids could say.

Tony steps forward, “What are you gonna do about it, Princess?” He mocks, once again evoking smug laughs from his posse. 

Without much hesitation, Fallon’s fist flies forward, knocking Tony square in the nose. He falls to the floor, the Transformers action figures falling into the sand allowing the brunette to quickly swoop them up. Tony’s friends scamper away, now frightened by the unhinged girl in front of them. Tony himself whimpers into his hand as he tries to stop his now bloody nose from getting all over his shirt. He doesn’t say anything else before running off with his friends to the furthest side of the playground. 

Fallon huffs, dusting off her jeans which have little flower patches on them. The hand she used to punch Tony is slightly red, but nothing too damaging. The two boys behind her are still staring at her, jaws practically touching the floor. She giggles as walks closer to them, handing them their action figures back. 

“Hi,” she greets cheerfully. “I’m Fallon.” 

Instead of saying his own name, the boy with many freckles on his face jumps up and down, flailing his arms all over the place. “That! Was! Awesome!” He exclaims. “You are the coolest person ever.” 

“Thanks,” she grins. “What are your guys' names?” She asks with the small tilt of her head. 

“I’m Scott,” the darker haired boy says. 

“And I’m Stiles,” states the boy she now wants to call freckles. 

“Thanks for getting our toys back,” Scott says gratefully. “Tony always comes and tries to take the new stuff they put in the sand pit.” 

“He’s rude,” Fallon scoffs. “I don’t like him.”

“None of us do,” Stiles adds sarcastically. “But he beats up the people who don’t listen to him.” 

“Well, not anymore,” Fallon says with her head held high. “If he tries to take your stuff again, I’ll punch him even harder next time. I’ll knock his teeth out and make sure the tooth fairy doesn’t give him money for it.” 

“You can do that?” Both of them asked, completely amazed by the statement that just left her mouth. 

“Mhm,” Fallon nods. “My dad knows her. I can put a good word in for you guys if you want?” 

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims as Scott just nods his head fervently. 

“Do you maybe wanna play with us?” Scott asks, pointing to their designated spot in the sand pit. “We need someone to play with Optimus Prime to complete our game.”

“Really?” Fallon asks with an excited twinkle in her eyes. “You mean it?” 

“Yeah!” Stiles insists, plopping down in his spot. He pats the empty space next to him, “You can sit next to me.” 

“Okay,” Fallon agrees, falling criss-cross applesauce beside Stiles. Scott sits directly across from them and the trio begins their journey with the Autobots. 

Fallon silently thanks her father for showing her the Transformers movies and the different lore behind them or else she would be completely lost during this interaction. “So,” Stiles begins, “You’re new here, right?”

“Yeah,” Fallon answers. “I moved here from New York,” she explains. “My dads job moves him around a lot so I’ve been to a lot of places.” 

“Even the moon?” Scott wonders.

Fallon laughs, “Not yet. I hope we don’t go there.” 

“Yeah, that would suck,” Stiles agrees. “You just got here.” 

“My dad said we were gonna stay here,” Fallon shrugs, moving her action figure across the sand. “So hopefully I don’t have to go anywhere for a while. It gets lonely trying to find friends in new schools. It’s hard to talk to other kids,” she admits. 

“You’re talking to us,” Scott points out.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she smiles at the two boys. 

“Do you wanna be our new best friend?” Stiles bluntly asks. 

“Stiles,” Scott scolds. “You can’t just ask people to be our best friend. That’s weird. You’re gonna scare her off.” 

“You won’t scare me off,” Fallon shakes her head. “I don’t get scared easily. My dad says I’m super brave. But I would love to be your best friend!” She tells them. “As long as you guys will let me.” 

“See? It’s not weird,” Stiles sticks his tongue out at Scott. “Now we have a new friend.” 

Scott is quick to fly across the sand pit and begin wrestling Stiles. Fallon laughs loudly at the two boys, blocking her face from the sand coming at her. “Guys! Stop!” She giggles. “We only have a couple more minutes before we have to go back inside and we haven’t even finished the story yet.” 

Reluctantly, Scott gets off of Stiles and moves back to his spot in the sand pit so they can continue their game. The boys never thought they’d meet someone who’d fit so seamlessly in their little duo, which now seems to be more of a trio. The three of them laugh together as they come up with random pieces of dialogue for their characters that make absolutely no sense. 

As Scott starts his own monologue with the small action figure in his hand, Stiles finds himself staring at the girl next to him. Small specks of sand in her dark hair, perfectly straight teeth, and choppy bangs covering her forehead. She is really pretty. Maybe as pretty as his little crush, Lydia Martin. 

“Stiles,” Fallon nudges his shoulder with her own. “It’s your turn.” 

The boy blinks before turning his attention back to their game, “Okay. Let’s finish this before Ms. Clifford makes us put everything away.” 

Fallon didn’t realize that at that moment she found herself two true friends. Ones that will stick by her through thick and thin despite the unknown facing them. When they learned that the triangle was the strongest shape in nature, they didn’t know how true that statement was until they looked at each other. Smiling at Stiles and Scott, Fallon felt like Beacon Hills would be her final stop. A place where she could finally put down roots and find her own misfit family. 

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.”

Magic Bullet 1x04

Episode 5

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

“I don’t know,” Scott answers.

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

Scott whispers, “I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said you were useless.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder why,” Fallon says sarcastically.

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

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

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

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

“No, you idiot,” Derek snaps irritatedly.

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

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

“The one who shot you,” Scott answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet,” Derek shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Derek adds menacingly.

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

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

Silence.

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” Derek shoots a glare her way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which is what?” Fallon questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” Derek says impatiently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–” he goes to point at the saw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

“Where have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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