Admiring Aesthetics

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns, and is generally described as feminine (in this chapter, there are mentions of the reader wearing make-up and a dress); there are no mention of the reader’s race, hair type, hair colour, or eye colour, and throughout the fic there is slight implications toward her being plus sized that can be easily ignored, and it’s not a main plot point of the fic; this fic DOES use the term Y/N throughout, and I would recommend using a word replacer extension on your browser to put in your actual name in order to get the full experience; warnings for descriptions of gore and violence - there is some gore imagery described in this chapter, but it’s not anything more severe in the show (which features a woman ripped in half in the first episode); descriptions of violent injuries; warning for claustrophobia - descriptions of being buried alive; some sexual themes - including heavy making out, Isaac having sexual thoughts about the reader, and groping, and some dry humping, but no smut in this chapter (there is smut in later chapters); mentions of Isaac being taller than the reader - though it not stated how much taller, and it’s based on the idea that Daniel Sharman is six feet tall, and he would be taller than most people; Isaac exhibits symptoms of PTSD and symptoms of being emotionally abused by his father when interacting with other people; mentions of the abuse Isaac’s father inflicted on him; Scott x Allison as a background ship, mostly paralleled with Isaac and the reader; mentions of unhealthy habits around food, including ‘stress eating’; mention’s of the reader’s mother being dead; canon typical violence - mentions of the human sacrifice plotline that was canon to this season; descriptions of injuries (and mentions of blood) - again - implications of Stiles having a crush on the reader (one sided) (everyone seems to know about it but her); the warnings are not as long for this chapter, but it’s mostly relationship drama, and there will be more warnings for the heavier chapters later.

A/N: It's so wild how I think of this as a 'transition' chapter and it's the longest chapter yet. It's because this chapter is more about building the relationships and the emotions, and that is something I love writing and focusing on the details for, and I ended up doing a lot of details. But there's no major plot points in this chapter lmao. I hope you guys enjoy it! The next chapter is one of my favourites, and even though Act I is the longest, we're almost at the end of it, and things really ramp up from there.

...

You had no clue where you were.

You were surrounded by darkness, ripe, damp, cool earth touching every inch of your skin. Every part of your body was hurting - a fierce ache that left you breathless, left you barely able to move. You sucked in breaths through ragged lungs, feeling like your ribs were a nasty barbed wire caging you in rather than helping to support you. 

When you forced your eyes open, the first thing you saw was the beautiful, inky black night sky. Calm, clear night dotted with bright stars. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic pain of your body. On the edges of your vision there were trees, swaying gently in the night time breeze. You were in the middle of the forest somewhere, but you couldn’t even begin to discern where. 

As panic began to flood you, Isaac appeared above you. He seemed so far away, peering down at you with more than his usual height. It was then that you realized, you weren’t just laying on the ground. You were laying in the ground. The cool earth touching your skin was raw dirt, dug up and freshly overturned. You were laying in a hole, a deep one. 

“Isaac!” You called out to him, barely able to raise your voice, the word coming out as a pathetic rasp. You couldn’t speak up as much as you wanted to - something was caught in your throat. Something that bubbled up into your mouth and choked you. Something bright and coppery. Your own blood. “I-Isaac!” 

“It’s gonna be okay.” He assured you, seeming oddly stiff and calm. Much more robotic than his usual sweet and warm self. 

Still, he didn’t move to help you. He didn’t reach down to lift you up. 

Instead, he reached to the side and grabbed something, and you realized with alarm that it was a shovel. 

You let out a cry of terror, a horrible whine into the air, but so much blood was now filling your lungs that you couldn’t speak. You sputtered and choked as Isaac began mechanically, purposefully shovelling dirt into the hole on top of you. 

“Y/N, please don’t cry!” Isaac begged, a horrible curdling in his own throat. “I have to do this!” 

He was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down his face, as though he understood what your gargling cries meant and he pitied you. But still, he kept on shoveling. He didn’t move to help you up, he didn’t bring you to safety. 

You felt bits of that cool, loose earth falling on top of you and then inside you. You felt the distinct, horrifying feeling of dirt pouring into your chest cavity. Somehow, the dirt was filling an empty space that shouldn’t have been open to the air. When you tilted your head downward and looked at yourself for the first time, you noticed that there was a large, gaping, gory wound where your heart should have been. You let out another cry as more dirt filled it, but then, Isaac tossed another shovelful that covered your eyes. 

Soon, you were completely buried. 

Your vision was black, and any gasping attempts you made to breathe were met with the horrible combination of irony, wet blood and harsh, stony, grainy dirt. You choked for a moment, panicking, before something forced you still. 

The sound of a bird. 

It was a distant chirping - a tone of the same key hit again and again in quick succession until it devolved into a long, calming tone. A bird’s song. In a moment, it instantly calmed you, causing your whole body to still. Any panic left you, any part of you that was tense and painful as you fought for oxygen no longer felt the need. 

You weren’t dead, even without oxygen. But you weren’t alive either, lingering somewhere in a strange neutrality between life and death that no other person had ever experienced before. 

The soft tone of the bird’s song grew closer, and louder, and in a few moments, the cool earth of your makeshift grave began to heat up at a rapid rate. The bird’s song became a vicious, angry squawk in your ear as the soft earth turned to hot coals around you, absolutely blazen. But instead of being horribly burned, you felt the most beautifully warm that you ever had in your life. Even without oxygen in your lungs, even without a heart in your chest, you felt the most alive that you ever had. Any sense of pain in your body was healed, as all your muscles grew revitalized and strong. 

Instinctively, you began to move your body, breaking free from the hot coals, knowing they had served their purpose now. You punched your fists, kicked your legs, and soon, a rush of cool air reached you, guiding you to dig yourself out with your newly strong limbs. Soon, you were once again looking up at that starry night sky. You crawled out onto the cool ground, your skin still ultra-blazen in contrast, and one of the first things you saw in the darkness of the forest was Isaac. 

But he wasn’t holding the shovel. He was on his knees among the trees, his skin slashed up, covered in blood, his chest heaving as he wept. 

You crawled over to him urgently, now flushed with worry over his injuries, desperate to reach him. You reached out to him, and the moment your blazen touch brushed his cheek, his many bloody cuts began to heal. He peeled open his eyes, and stared you down with those icy baby blues. 

“Don’t let me go.” 

He cried, reaching up and grasping at your filthy, fire-hot hand. 

“Please - don’t leave me.” 

You were rocketed back to reality, and you woke up in your own bed, confused and shaking due to the strange, horrible dream. You were covered in a thick layer of sweat, feeling disoriented - and it took you a moment to realize that you were in your room with the sun peeking through the curtains, cuddling Isaac’s cardigan like it was a precious teddy bear. 

Before you could think too much about the weird dream, your phone vibrated on your nightstand, the sound further shaking you back to reality. You pushed yourself up on one elbow, grabbing it and unlocking it. It was a text message from Scott. 

‘If you still wanna talk to Isaac, come to my house before school. I’ll make sure you can have some time with him.’ 

You were relieved that Scott hadn’t forgotten about this favour he owed you, and you were glad that you would finally be able to get the chance to have that all important talk with Isaac. But you grew intensely nervous, wondering if that talk would result in a real, true break-up… something you didn’t want to think about for now. 

‘I’ll be there in 45 minutes.’ 

You replied, knowing that it would be the rush of a lifetime to get ready, but hopefully, it would be worth it. You would have to take the quickest shower you could while still making sure to smell nice, and you had to pick out something cute to wear… not that you were going over there to win Isaac back. 

You were just going to talk to him and ask him honestly if he wanted a relationship with you. But wearing a nice dress wouldn’t hurt… 

That had been a seriously strange dream. But you could only blame it on everything that had been going on between you and Isaac. The fact that you needed closure and you missed him so much. You didn’t have even a minute to linger on thinking about it, though. You had to rocket out of bed and jump in the shower, rushing to get ready. 

…

Isaac was having a fairly normal morning. A comfortably normal morning, especially considering what his life had been like over the past few months. He had his laundry back, so he was wearing his own clothes again. Scott had used some floral detergent that smelled really nice. They had eaten toaster waffles for breakfast again while sitting in front of the TV, discussing old cartoons that they missed that no longer aired. He was having an exceedingly normal morning, and it felt nice. 

Now, he was trying to gather his things for school. School - that didn’t seem so important compared to the threat of death looming over his head, but he supposed that he had to try and graduate with passing grades. He was trying not to think about the fact that he would likely have to see you at school, but… one thing at a time. 

“Hey, Isaac, can you come here for a second?” Scott called out. 

Isaac strolled casually down the hall, wondering what Scott could want, and when he walked into Scott’s room, he became frozen with shock to see you sitting on the edge of Scott’s bed. You were trying to corner him again. Isaac immediately moved to leave, but Scott put a hand in the middle of his chest, shoving him back into the room, and then he slammed the door shut, trapping the two of you inside while he stood out in the hallway. 

“I’m not letting you out!” Scott hollered from the other side. “I promised her at least fifteen minutes.” 

Isaac then turned back to you, and his eyes flickered to the window behind your head, viewing it as another tempting route of escape. You knew him too well, of course, and you immediately knew what he was thinking, even without him saying a word. 

“Am I really that bad?” You asked, your voice strained with frustration. “You would rather jump out a window than be with me for a few minutes?” 

Isaac stared you down, still not speaking a word, not daring to voice his thoughts. 

Of course, that was the entire problem. Not that you were so horrendous that he couldn’t stand to be around you, but that you were so perfect that he couldn’t bring himself to stay away from you. 

“Can you please just sit and talk to me? Just for a few minutes?” You asked, intense pleading in your voice as you gently patted a spot on the bed beside you. 

Isaac swallowed thickly as he looked you up and down. Your eyes were shiny with desperation, glowing with sadness, and he hated that he had caused it. You were wearing a white floral sundress that he had complimented many times on you - the hem riding up to expose your perfect thighs, a simple, thin pink cardigan covering your arms to make it more appropriate for school. You had it paired with knee high white socks and a pair of simple pink flats. Your make-up was done simply and beautifully, and you had a fake flower clipped in your hair beside your ear to match. 

You looked so stunning, so effortlessly perfect. Of course you had to look so good when he was trapped in here with you. He looked at the empty spot you were offering him, and then back at you, back at the deciphering expression you were giving him. Of course, you were trying to pick him apart with your eyes. You were too good at reading him and he hated that too. He could never hide anything from you.  

He easily imagined himself sitting beside you, putting a hand on your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. It would just be too easy. He imagined himself slipping a hand up your dress - 

“Isaac?” You prompted, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

You were too beautifully distracting. 

“I’ll stand.” He responded, moving a step back to lean against Scott’s desk, hoping to keep a healthy distance from you. He hoped that the two of you could get the conversation over quickly so that he could go back to staying as far away from you as possible. He couldn’t be near you - it was dangerous. It was too tempting. 

“Okay.” You nodded. You were glad that Isaac was staying, and he wasn’t trying to run away from you at top speed. 

“You wanted to talk, so talk.” Isaac said firmly, trying to be emotionless, trying not to let himself get sucked in. You were the one thing in the world that made him soft, and he needed to stop letting that happen. 

You sighed and shook your head, trying not to become aggravated. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You told him. “I don’t like it.” 

“Because I don’t want to be around you.” Isaac replied, lying. “I thought you would be able to take a hint-” 

“We both know that’s bullshit.” You cut him off sharply, rocketing up off Scott’s bed as the energy of your anger, frustration, and annoyance with Isaac overtook you. “Tell me the real reason. Now.” 

A lump formed in Isaac’s throat. He knew that you wouldn’t accept it. He knew there was almost nothing you would accept as a good enough reason for the two of you to be apart. You saw the world differently than he did, and it would get you killed. 

When he remained silent, you added on: 

“Does it have something to do with The Alpha Pack?” You prompted. “Are you in danger?” 

Isaac’s stomach knotted up, and you immediately got your answer when you saw the fear paint across his face. 

“How do you know about them?” He asked, his voice shaking, not bothering to truly answer your question. 

You hated that he was avoiding the root of things, but you decided that he needed an explanation. 

“Allison explained a lot of stuff to me the other day.” You told him. He ground his jaw and flickered his eyes to the wall behind you. He didn’t want to hate Allison for this, but part of him was very annoyed by it, at least. It was better when you were in the dark. It was better when you thought he was just an asshole who didn’t want you anymore. “But she did leave some holes. Are they the ones that killed Erica?” 

He flinched at the mention of her name. You saw terrible sadness growing in his eyes, but again - he refused to say anything to confirm it outright. 

“Just forget about what Allison told you.” He demanded, taking a sharp breath, trying to steady himself. “It’s not like you can help-” 

“Maybe I can help.” You bit back. “You don’t know that. And I want more details if this is what’s keeping us apart.” 

Your voice was so utterly mournful, your lip quivering, your eyes threatening to spill tears. He resisted the urge to reach out and grab you, warning to pull you into a hug to comfort you - but that was the whole problem. He couldn’t be your comfort anymore. He needed to stay away from you. 

“No!” He shouted. “No! No, we’re not doing this.” He said, moving toward the door. When he reached for the handle, it was stiff against his touch, but he knew that Scott hadn’t locked it from the outside somehow. 

“Ten more minutes!” Scott grunted, and it was abundantly clear that he was forcefully holding it shut. 

“We are doing this!” You argued bitterly, spitting the words at Isaac’s back. “You can’t keep avoiding me forever, Isaac.” 

That had been his plan. 

“You wanna do this? You wanna know the truth?” Isaac spat you at you, turning back to face you. “I have to avoid you because you’re too stupid to realize that being with me is dangerous!” 

His words cut through the air horribly, and you froze up, watching his muscles tense, watching him flare with anger and that you knew ultimately wasn’t directed at you. Your stomach became stiff and sickly, and you wondered what had filled him with so much fear. You hadn’t seen him like this since his father had threatened you in the kitchen and he had tried breaking up with you over it. 

He then reached over, and you hated it when his stiff hand grabbed your wrist, and his other fingers pushed up your sleeve, being far too gentle with how intense the air was, still cautious of hurting you, even now - moving to reveal the fresh bandage you had put over your scratches after your shower. Just as Stiles had done the day before, he held up your wrist like it was horrible evidence to some epic crime. 

“I did this to you and you still don’t fucking get it!” He barked, shoving your own arm back toward you like touching you was a horrible act, like he was disgusted with you - when in truth, he was disgusted with himself, disgusted with the fact that he was ever capable of hurting you, even in the smallest of ways. 

Tears glassed over his eyes, and veins in his neck became thick as he held back sobs, and you knew that he was hurting in terrible ways over the fact that he had left some simple scratches on your arm. It caused a wicked empathy to surge through you - you wanted to hold him tightly and tell him that it was okay. But you knew that almost nothing could keep him from the ways he was punishing himself over this. 

“Isaac-” You wept quietly, trying to get his attention, trying to calm him down. 

“I’m a monster.” Isaac huffed out, absolutely distraught and believing this to be the truth. “I’m surrounded by monsters. And being with me is only gonna get you hurt. It’s going to get you killed.” He spoke these words with quaking intensity, and the air shook horribly around the two of you. “It’s not gonna end in some pretty, fairytale way. I’m doing you a favor, so please, fucking take it.” 

You took in a shuddering breath, trying your hardest to suppress sobs, not wanting to become a crying mess in front of Isaac. You knew he already felt intensely guilty, and you didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did. 

“What about the other night?” You asked. “We were broken up, and you knocked on my door-” 

It was the one lingering question that you had. If he was so determined that things between the two of you were doomed - why would he come to you during a time when he was the most broken? Why would he still lean on you as a comfort, as a saviour? 

“That was selfish.” Isaac replied, visions flashing through his mind, remembering your perfect warmth, remembering the way your naked body had felt against his. He didn’t regret it, he didn’t regret how perfect you felt against him - but oh god, he would take it back if he could. It had been such a weak moment. He had given himself a taste of something so perfect and now he could never have it again. “And I’m sorry for doing that to you.” 

“Yes, it was selfish, but was it wrong?” You posed. 

Isaac shook his head. “Same thing.” 

“Isaac, you have lived your whole life being beaten down by other people - when was the last time you actually did something because it served you?” 

Isaac Lahey - shining offensive linemen, his father’s silent son, Derek Hale’s quiet beta - the last thing anybody could say that he was… selfish. 

When did he do something that truly served himself? 

The first day he had worked up the courage to speak to you in the art room. The first time he had asked you out. When he had pulled you close that day in your paint-fumed bedroom and kissed you for the first time. 

Every time he had ever kissed you, ever held you, every time he had dared to open his lips and speak the curse of ‘I love you’ to someone who didn’t deserve to be burdened by him. When he had begged you to love him in return, even though he knew it was such a difficult task. 

“Of course you think being selfish is wrong.” You added on harshly, your voice shaking. “Your father-” 

“Do you have a point?” Isaac spat back, cutting off your words. 

He hated how easily you were cutting to his core, hating how quickly he was coming to view you as right. It felt like a mind game that only you knew the code too. It felt like he should get a chance to run away because you already had a head start. 

“Was anything you said to me that night a lie?” You asked, posing this as a true question, rather than a rhetorical statement that you would have a clever follow-up to. 

Isaac didn’t like the answer. He may have been a danger, a monster, a thief of your time, a beast that never should have been fed - but he was not a liar. At least not when you forced honesty out of him. He could lie anywhere except for the sanctity of your bedroom. He could not lie to your face, not when your honest eyes were burrowing at him. 

When he remained silent, guilt painted all over his face for just the reason you expected it to be, you added on: 

“Did you really spend all that time that we were broken up just missing me?” 

“Why does it matter?” He argued, making the dangerous mistake of posing it as a question rather than firmly denying it. Right there, he had given you the smallest crack to wiggle in through, and you were about to shove a crowbar in and force your way back into his life. 

“Because it does.” You said gently, your throat quivering. “Because I missed you. I missed you so much. And - and I can’t keep living like that, Isaac. That’s a fucking half-life. You talk about me getting hurt or dying like it’s the worst thing that could happen to me, but it’s not. And you know it. When I have to miss you - it’s like I’m dead already.” 

A hot tear streaked down your face, and Isaac utterly despised it. Seeing you cry was one of the worst things to ever happen to him, every single time it happened. 

He thought that it was easier when you hated him - when you believed that he had cheated on you, before you knew about werewolves and all the other crap. But he knew that the two of you couldn’t go back to that. Trying to push you away had been a temporary band-aid on a dam that had been bound to break open and flood his life. 

Isaac’s hands itched to reach out and pull you into a hug, to comfort you, but he forced himself still. He had to protect you, and protecting you meant letting you go. 

“You - you don’t understand.” He argued, gentler this time. “There are seriously dangerous people out there - people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. They would tear you apart-” 

He felt so urgent to warn you of the danger. He had seen so many terrible things while searching for Erica and Boyd, nearly been killed himself. You couldn’t even begin to understand - 

“I don’t care.” You responded, your voice wet with tears, but firm. “You’ll protect me, I know you will.” 

Isaac’s insides churned. He didn’t want to voice it - didn’t want to tell you that he wasn’t sure he had the power to protect you against a pack of Alphas. He would protect you until his dying breath, but he didn’t want things to come to that. He didn’t want the world to pry you out of his weak, limp hands. He didn’t want to be forced to watch your death shortly before succumbing to his own. 

“And beyond that, it doesn’t even matter. Some random danger out there that may or may not kill me isn’t a good enough reason for us to stay apart!” You hissed, more frustrated tears streaming down your face. 

Isaac opened his mouth to argue, and you cut him off in a rush. 

“No! Stop it! Death is death. And you’re not gonna stop me from dying whenever that day does come.” 

The words slapped Isaac like a radical realization, and he wanted to argue. Because yes - he wanted to stop you from dying, no matter what. 

“I could die from someone killing me - Alpha or not. Or I could die in a car accident, or I could die from fucking food poisoning under the right conditions.” You explained, fully ranting now. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to spend every single second that I have to live with you. Because I love you. And if you don’t feel the same way, I understand. But if you love me too, and if you want to be with me, then be with me. Don’t keep us apart because you think you’re protecting me!” 

“Y/N, I’m-” 

Isaac’s retort of ‘I am protecting you’ was soon cut off by your lips. 

You grabbed the front of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric as you pulled it tight in your fist, forcefully pulling him down to your level so that you could smother his lips in yours. It was a firm, intense kiss, and he couldn’t help but to let himself become lost in it. In a moment, he reached up and grabbed both sides of your face, not letting you pull away as he let out a small whimper, losing himself to you, losing himself to this thing that he kept convincing himself he wasn’t allowed to have. 

You sucked at his lips as if trying to draw his very soul out, refusing to pull away, loving the feeling of something you had missed so much. The person you had missed so much. He smoothed a hand down your back, unable to resist the urge to squeeze a handful of your ass, causing you to let out a deeper moan that vibrated against his teeth. 

“Please don’t have sex on my bed!” Scott called out from the hallway, hating all the sounds that he was being subjected to. 

You pulled away from the kiss with a giggle, and you loved it when you found Isaac beaming a smile at you. You hadn’t seen him smiling in so damn long. 

“No problem, Scotty.” Isaac called back. “Can we borrow a condom, though?” 

You swatted Isaac playfully for this, giving him a stiff look as you shook your head, and Scott let out a defeated sigh. 

“Check my bedside drawer.” Scott replied, his voice dull, obviously thinking that Isaac had been serious. 

“No.” You hissed at Isaac, smoothing a hand over his chest to straighten out his shirt. While you did heavily enjoy the feeling of his hand on your ass, full and warm, you had one hang-up. “No more sex until we get this sorted out.” 

He sighed and gave a small nod. 

“Look - I…” He trailed off, his expression knit with worry. He was primed and ready to be honest with you. “I’m just so scared all the time.” 

“How do you think I felt when your father was beating you half to death every other week and you wouldn’t let me call the cops?” You replied. 

A lump formed in Isaac’s throat, and he hated the reflection you had put upon him. He hated everything you had put him through. 

“I couldn’t change the circumstances. I just had to love you and give you a safe place to land, and trust that everything was gonna be okay.” You explained. 

Isaac nodded. Once again - you were so radically right, and he just had to sit back and listen. 

“Can - can you just give me a bit more time to think?” He asked. 

His eyes were shining with fear, and you listened on as he explained. 

“I don’t want you in this world. The - the monsters and the werewolves and all the danger. And I know I can’t control you and where you are and who you’re with. I can’t hang over your shoulder all the time. But I don’t want some asshole threatening you just because we’re together. And I just… I need more time to decide if it’s worth it. I mean - you’re always worth it.” He quickly amended. “But… I just need to decide if all the fear is… if it’s gonna break me or not.” 

You nodded, stepping back from him. Your eyes were stewing with sadness and you reached up and wiped some of your smeared lip gloss from the kiss. 

“I understand.” You replied. “But you can’t let it break you.” You sighed. “I… I guess I’ll give you some space until you decide.” 

You resisted the urge to kiss him goodbye, and then you turned around and grabbed your bag where you had left it beside Scott’s bed. Isaac watched on mournfully as you hoisted it onto your shoulder and went to the door. When you grabbed the handle and pulled, the door opened just fine for you. 

When Isaac moved to the doorway, he saw Scott sitting in the hallway across from his bedroom with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

“Is this how you feel about Allison?” He posed. “Just - constantly terrified that you’ll lose her? That she’s in danger and you won’t be able to save her?”

It was a feeling that Isaac hated so much. Part of him wished that he had never started dating you in the first place. But then again - he couldn’t imagine his life without you. He couldn’t imagine going days without seeing your smile, going without kissing you… 

He was so screwed.  

“It’s how I used to feel.” Scott explained. “Now, not so much. Especially since I’ve seen what she can do with a bow and arrow.” 

Both boys chuckled, an air of nervousness in their laughter. Ultimately, they knew what you had said was right. If death was determined to come for you, no amount of werewolfism or weaponry could stop it. 

“Do you think Allison could teach Y/N all that stuff?” Isaac posed, half joking, half serious. 

He knew that you weren’t weak by any means - you were absolutely stubborn, and fierce, and clever, and that would get you a long way if something attacked you. But you didn’t have any practical skills to fight against something that had sharp teeth and claws, and he hated to think about what would happen if some monster caught you off guard… 

He knew that if you had some real training, it would make him feel a lot better. 

“I don’t think she needs it.” Scott replied. “Not when she’s got a guy like you around, who’s willing to jump somebody at a moment’s notice-” 

“Okay, not one of my best moments.” Isaac rolled his eyes. 

“You probably do need to get your temper under control.” Scott advised. “But you should never be ashamed of protecting the people that you love.” 

“I guess I never really thought of myself as someone who protects people.” Isaac shrugged. 

“Yeah, but you can be.” Scott replied. “Even if Y/N learns to protect herself like Allison can, she might still need you. You have to protect her. That’s part of what this means - you’re a wolf, you have this power now. You’re a part of something special. You can use it to destroy, like Deucalion does, or you can use it to protect innocent people who need you.”

Isaac nodded, giving a small smile at Scott’s very typical, but very useful speech. 

He had never really thought of himself as your protector. He just knew that you were too good and you needed to be protected from certain things, and it had always been his instinct to stand in the way of danger coming toward you. He always thought of himself as the lesser evil in your life, not some noble force guarding you. But he supposed… maybe he had done something right for once in his life. 

… 

When you got to school that morning, you could not stop thinking about Isaac. His lips were still a ghost on yours - so warming and welcoming, so firm, feeling so much like home. He was your home. 

You could completely understand where he was coming from. Losing the person you love is a terrifying thought - it was a thought that used to go through your mind every single time you saw bruises on his body, every single time he used to miss school because his father forgot to unlock the freezer. But you didn’t think that fear should keep the two of you apart. 

If that fear was destined to keep you apart, then you would have broken up with him and called the cops about the abuse (letting him inevitably be swept away by the foster care system) the first time you saw him with a swollen black eye. You wouldn’t have taken on the burden of loving him. 

Even though you knew deep down that it had never been your choice to love him - if fear had been the deciding factor, you would have been trying to sever that love long along. 

“Ooh, someone’s all dressed up.” Allison appeared beside you as you stood in front of your locker, too distracted by your thoughts to remember which books you were even supposed to be gathering in the first place. “Did I miss the memo on a special occasion?” 

“Hmm, if you consider my boyfriend trying to dump me, again, to be a special occasion, then yeah.” You huffed in return, grabbing your Economics textbook and shoving it into your bag and then shoving your locker closed with a frustrated hand that made the metal slam a bit too loudly. 

“Well, if he keeps trying to dump you - that means he’s not your boyfriend, right?” Allison posed, confused. 

“That is a really interesting conundrum. Maybe we should discuss it with Scott?” You joked, knowing that Allison’s relationship status with him was just as complicated as yours was with Isaac. 

Allison rolled her eyes. 

“Scott and I are friends.” She stressed. “We are very… friendly.” She had a distant look in her eyes, and you could tell that she was thinking of something in particular - something that you were eager to ask her about. But then she stiffened her brows and re-focused on you, and you didn’t get the chance. “But I know you were talking about Isaac. So come on, spill. What happened?” 

You let out a sigh. Though you knew your story would sound pathetic, you were glad to have someone to talk about it with. 

“I finally got to talk to him this morning, about everything.” You began to explain. “It ended with his tongue in my mouth.” 

You purposefully left out the fact that you had to trick him and trap him into talking with you for more than five seconds. You leaned on the lockers, feeling defeated by the whole thing. 

“That doesn’t sound like he was trying to dump you.” Allison said, puzzled. 

“Well - he went on this whole rant about how us being together isn’t safe, and if I stay with him I’ll get hurt, and blah blah. He’s acting like it’s not even my choice if I want to be with him or not.” You growled out, entirely frustrated. “He’s not trying to break up with me because he actually wants to end the relationship, he’s trying to break up with me because he thinks it’s the right thing to do.” 

“Oh my god.” Allison gaped, shaking her head. “Pause, rewind… it’s me from six months ago. Hello? Where did you get this playback of my life?” 

You let out a dull chuckle at this. 

“So all werewolves have this intense sense of self sacrifice and unnecessary nobility?” You asked dryly. 

“No, actually. According to Scott, that’s a huge part of the problem.” Allison replied, a seriousness ebbing into her voice that caused your insides to still. 

This was the first time that you actually stopped to think… Isaac might have a point. Werewolfism - the ability to sprout claws and huge fangs, the superspeed and strength… you weren’t afraid of Scott or Isaac because you knew that you never had to be. You were always safe with them. They were good people. But one of those things had killed your mother, among a dozen others when it had been running around town. You still weren’t sure how you felt about Derek Hale and his ability to turn other people into werewolves at will. 

You had yet to be in a situation where you faced someone who was truly dangerous. And if you did - if you met that werewolf who didn’t have a sense of justice and nobility - you might not come out on the other side. 

“Right.” You sighed quietly, defeated. 

“I mean, I don’t think you should let nobility keep you and Isaac apart.” Allison added on. “Isaac is being sweet and trying to protect you, but - there’s always gonna be danger, right? If he really loves you, he’ll understand that it’s better to be together through it and not be separated because of it.” 

You nodded. “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been saying the whole time.” 

You were glad to have someone who understood you so well. 

“Right.” Allison nodded, seeming distracted. “He - he should just man up and get you back. He should tell you he loves you instead of trying to stay away.” 

You noticed that her gaze was locked over your shoulder, looking around you rather than speaking to you, as if she had been dedicating those words to someone else. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly what she had been looking at when you followed the syrupy affection of her eyes. You quickly found Scott standing at the far, far end of the hallway, clearly using his enhanced hearing to pick up on every single word the two of you had exchanged. 

You bit your lip, holding back a grin. 

“So… why haven’t you gotten back together with Scott yet?” You had to ask. 

“I… I’m being friendly, I guess?” Allison shrugged, sounding defeated herself. 

You roll your eyes. “Well, thank you for this seminar on the hopeless leading the hopeless. I’m gonna go to the vending machine before class, because this whole thing has made me want to stress-snack.” 

Allison just chuckled and waved you off. 

Allison then turned to make her way to her own class, and she jolted slightly when she found Isaac immediately behind her. He must have just appeared there, because you definitely hadn’t seen him or noticed him. 

“Oh my god.” She gasped, holding her chest. “Don’t be so creepy.” 

“Sorry.” Isaac quickly apologized. 

“Your ears must be burning.” She sighed, referencing the fact that you and her had just been talking about him. 

“Uh… yeah, I hear most of that from down the hall, actually.” Isaac nodded, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. And then, as if the thought suddenly popped into his head, he quickly added on: “Why aren’t you back together with Scott?” 

Allison’s eyes flickered to the ground, and she gaped, open-mouthed, hating the question. 

“Did you want something?” She posed, eager to move on from the topic of her relationship with Scott. 

Isaac smirked at her, finding it funny that she was so eager to talk around the topic of Scott. But still, he acquiesced and moved on. 

“I have a favour to ask you.” He grinned at her. 

“What is it?” She replied. 

“Have you ever… trained anybody else before? Like - have you ever taught anybody else how to do the whole ‘bow and arrow’ badass fighting thing?” Isaac wondered aloud, clearly struggling for the exact words that he wanted to phrase it. 

“Um, no.” Allison said honestly. “But I have a feeling I know where this is going. And I’m sure Y/N would be a great student.” 

… 

When you showed up to first period Economics, a class that you shared with Lydia, you had a handful of snacks from the vending machine in tow. You took your seat beside her and tossed your snacks down onto your desk, and you didn’t hesitate to open one of the mini bags of chips and start crunching. You knew it was a bad habit, but the salty bites and the crunchiness was soothing to your stress. You told yourself that it was better than a lot of other bad habits you could be participating in. At least you weren’t smoking or biting your nails. 

“What’s with all the refined sugar?” Lydia asked, easily diagnosing from a single glance that you weren’t having a good start to your day. 

“You want one?” You asked, extending the chip bag out to her. 

“No thank you.” She replied curtly. “I’m just wondering why you robbed a 7/11 on your way here, and why it has to do with that six foot tall blond ghost that’s haunting your life,” She pressed, still unafraid to express her distaste for Isaac. You rolled your eyes at this, and she immediately knew that she was right. “You know, there are so many other cute guys I could set you up with. Guys who would treat you like a princess-” 

“And they would probably bore me half to death because we have absolutely nothing in common and have no chemistry.” You cut her off, shoving another chip in your mouth. 

“Relationships are a transaction.” Lydia stated, feeling very confident in this. “Human beings have known this since the invention of the dowry. You have to define your worth and expect nothing less than the full return in social equity, servitude, and physical repayment in the form of gifts.” 

You gave Lydia a sharp look at this, but it did explain why she had dated Jackson - someone who wasn’t all that pleasant, but was very conventionally attractive, had a high social status, and was rich enough to regularly buy her expensive gifts. It also explained why she was dating Aiden now - someone who was an asshole, dangerous, but was also considered hot, and had the same social standing as Jackson, being an athletic guy who could easily fit in with the ‘popular’ crowd. 

Lydia didn’t seek out boyfriends for love and affection, she sought them out because she thought they were equal to her socially and would ‘serve’ her. 

“I want a boyfriend, not a servant.” You replied. “And besides, love isn’t something that can be measured. And Isaac gives me every bit of my worth in love,”  

“Ugh, love.” Lydia hissed, sounding truly disgusted as she rolled her eyes. “Love? Really, Y/N? From a man?” You giggled at this. You were more than amused by how truly baffled she sounded at the concept, and you knew that Jackson had never treated her right - but you wouldn’t dive down that rabbit hole again, not now. “Please, the only things worth loving are your best girlfriends, and maybe a dog.” 

“You may have a point.” You sighed. Maybe you should get a dog, run away from Beacon Hills, and call it a day. Then, something else came to mind, and you had to ask: “Do you think dreams have any meaning?” 

“What? Like the whole ‘showing up to school in your underwear’ nightmare? Or that dream where all your teeth fall out of your head?” She posed, a thoughtful look knitting over her well made-up features.  

“You’ve had that one too?” You gasped, surprised that it seemed to be common.

She nodded. “Why, is that what you meant?” 

“No.” You shook your head. “I - last night, I had a weird dream where I was buried alive?” 

You began to explain, struggling to remember it, the dream now fuzzy in pieces in your mind. But the feeling was still there - the burning against your skin, the way you had felt so strong. It had felt so real, like it had truly been happening. 

“Isaac was the one shovelling the dirt in. And then… the grave lit on fire. And when I crawled out of it, Isaac was - he was all injured and cut up, and he was begging me not to leave him.” 

“Well that is… bizarre.” Lydia nodded. “But - it sounds like he’s burying you emotionally.” She easily concluded. You couldn’t help but to think she was right. “Either that, or it’s your subconscious mind’s way of telling you that your skin is burned up and dry and you need to start using an SPF.” 

Unconsciously, you reached to touch your cheek, and you did notice a slight dryness. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you skincare shopping after school.” Lydia grinned. “I’m also taking you for a mani-pedi, because clearly, you need to relax.” 

You grinned, knowing that ‘taking you’ was Lydia speak for ‘paying for everything and absolutely will not accept your money because I think that’s rude’. 

“Thanks, bestie.” You nodded at her. 

“What would you do without me?” Lydia smiled. 

“Probably end up using press-ons.” You shrugged. 

Lydia gasped at this, shaking her head as though it was a terrible crime to even conceptualize. 

Just then, Coach Finstock walked in, ready to start the class. 

“Ms. L/N,” He grinned at you. “Having a little snack, I see. Did you bring enough to share with everyone, or will you be putting it away now?” 

“Well, I didn’t bring enough for everyone.” You began, feeling awkward. “But I did bring a cookie for my favourite coach,” 

You held out one of the cookies to him, giving him a small smile. You knew that he was liable to be bribed, because you had often taken the approach of bringing him a coffee before a game and ‘discussing strategy’ to try and get Stiles off the bench. Before he had officially made First Line, it had worked twice. 

“Okay.” Coach nodded, taking the cookie from you. 

… 

Later that morning, when you were between classes, you were surprised when you felt someone brush by you in the hallway, and soon you felt fingers entwining with your own. Your head jolted up in shock, and you were filled with warmth when you saw Isaac grinning at you. 

“Let me walk you to class?” He asked. 

He didn’t truly give you time to debate about it when he reached over to your other arm and grabbed your bag, taking it off your shoulder and beginning to carry it for you. 

You found yourself a bit mystified - it was such a moment of deja vu, like nothing bad had ever gone on between the two of you. You let yourself squeeze his hand in return, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. You let yourself enjoy his presence and the butterflies it caused in your stomach. 

“I… thought I was giving you space?” You replied, trying your best to be gentle, entirely confused but not wanting to scare him off again. 

You began to walk in step with him, knowing that it was too familiar, too easy to fall into. 

Isaac shrugged. “I thought maybe we could try the whole… friend thing. It seems like it’s working for Scott and Allison.” 

You wanted to scoff a laugh. It wasn’t working for them. They were constantly dancing around each other like terrified deer, afraid to get too close, afraid to be left alone together… they weren’t friends, they were lovers waiting to snap. 

And maybe that’s what you and Isaac would always be too. 

The warmth of his hand in yours didn’t really feel friendly. But you simply nodded, trying to stave off your disappointment at the idea of just being ‘friends’ with Isaac. At least you would get to have him in your life. That would be good. That was something lucky, and you would treasure it. 

You were so busy thinking about this, so busy mentally dwelling, trusting the firmness of his guiding hand, that you didn’t notice when he guided you away from where you should be going - to your third period Physics class. And instead, you didn’t truly notice when he took you toward the boys’ locker room. He took a swift look around to make sure that nobody was nearby before opening the door and letting go of your hand to give a gentle nudge on your back, shoving you in. 

“Isaac, what are you-?” 

“Nothing.” He chuckled, a tone of mischief in his voice that you were all too familiar with. 

Before you could even get the words out, he tossed your bag off his shoulder, letting it land carelessly on the floor, and then he was on you. He put his hands on your hips, turning you back toward him, in one smooth move, capturing your lips in a kiss while he pressed you up against one of the lockers. Immediately, you were smothered by him. The essence of everything that was him, the Isaac that you had missed so much - all of it immediately overwhelmed you. 

You let out a small moan as you were overwhelmed by everything that was Isaac - his scent, the intense heat of his body pressed up against yours, the beautifully possessive grip of his hands on your hips, the hard planes of his muscles that somehow felt so soft against you. You quickly reached up to grab his hair, stifling him into the kiss, desperate to drink in more of him in the little time that you could. You hated that you had missed this so much and never wanted to let him go again. 

Part of you wondered what the hell was going on, and if you had been zapped into some distant daydream because you had been bored into a coma during Psychics. But you didn’t want to question it too much because you didn’t want it to stop. 

He let out a little moan in return, pouring sweetness and passion into every single kiss, refusing to pull away, loving the feeling of having you so close, loving the feeling of having you back. You were so damn precious - and a part of Isaac hurt so deep at the idea that he might have to let you go for good. 

All too soon, your lungs cried for air, and you hesitantly parted from him. Though Isaac didn’t take this as a signal to stop. He pecked kisses along your cheek and then began devouring your neck, sighing and moaning sweetly against your skin as though you were the best thing he had ever tasted. You continued to clutch onto his hair, having missed the feeling of it under your fingers, your other hand seeking stability on his shoulder as you became dizzier from his touches. 

“I - I thought you were walking me to class?” You breathed out, hoping that he didn’t take it as a complaint. You were mostly just confused as to how you had gotten here, desperately wondering if this meant that the two of you were ‘back together’ or not. Had he spent the morning simmering it on, had he made his decision? Was this his way of telling you? 

“I am.” He hummed against your neck, laying hot, wet kisses up the column of your throat until he reached your jaw - then he kissed your cheek again and he laid another firm, hot kiss on your lips. “We’ll get there eventually.” 

He mumbled the words against your mouth, and even with your eyes closed, you could feel him smirking in that awful way he always did when he was up to something. Like when he snuck liquor from his father’s stash or when he convinced you to skip class with him - which was probably what he was trying to do right now. 

You were tempted to believe him. You were tempted to believe that the long route to class involved his lips smashed against yours like you were his only source of oxygen. You wanted to forget about everything else. 

Especially when he slid a hand down your back and made another greedy grab for your ass - this time, he was even so bold as to purposefully wrinkle up the hemline of your dress with all his needy groping so that you felt his fingertips brush against the back of your thigh. It was the barest amount of skin-to-skin contact in such an intimate place, and it had you moaning embarrassingly loudly against his teeth and shuddering toward his touches. 

He pulled away oh so slightly from your lips, his mouth already lustfully red and swollen from the kissing, and he grinned at you. 

“This is your version of ‘friends’?” You breathed out, raising your brows at him. 

“I’m being friendly.” He argued gently, his hand wandering down further, slipping under the hem of your dress completely - he began lightly teasing at your skin, running his fingertips so sparingly along the back of your thigh that it sent shivers through you, and he smirked again. “I’m introducing my tongue to your mouth - that’s very friendly.” 

You then had a passing thought about being tempted to ask him to introduce his tongue somewhere else. But he distracted you when he surged forward again and did just as he promised - he shoved his tongue between your lips, forcefully fucking your mouth with it, causing you to let out another moan at his perfect forcefulness. The actions easily made you all the more heated as you moaned weakly and flicked your tongue back against his, loving the feeling of him gently overpowering you, being so loving and so commanding at the same time. 

The bell sounded - but it was so distant, off in some other world where Isaac wasn’t kissing you and you definitely weren’t late for class. 

He used that hand on the back of your thigh to lift your leg completely off the ground, wrapping your leg around his hip. You didn’t even realize it in the moment, but your shoe, a flimsy ballet flat that wasn’t really attached, ended up being practically flung off and landed somewhere across the room. You didn’t have any room to care about that as Isaac held your knee at his hip with a strong, firm hand, your throbbing core now open to him, the air biting at your wet panties as you began to unconsciously hump your hips against him. 

Isaac let out another moan before he pulled away from your lips with a dangerously wet smack. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day.” His voice quivered with barely contained lust, and he moved his hand from your knee, running it further up your thigh, greedily grabbing and groping the flesh, staring into your eyes so steadily, making you feel so wanted. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you in this dress.” 

Deep down, you knew this was about more than a piece of clothing. 

You knew that if you had shown up to Scott’s house wearing stained sweats with your hair unwashed, Isaac would have felt the same. Hell, if you had shown up wearing a big gross potato sack - Isaac probably would have reacted the same. It was because you had challenged him, because you had kissed him first. If Scott hadn’t spoken up and disrupted the two of you, then this whole thing likely would have just happened back in Scott’s room, on his bed, despite his wishes not wanting the two of you to soil it. 

Isaac jutted his leg forward, perfectly situating his denim-clad thigh right up against your pussy, tight and firm, and you let out a hot moan at the contact. You tugged on his hair as you began driving your hips forward, humping his leg, sending shockwaves through your core - he grinned against your mouth, panting against your lips, clearly loving it. 

“Good girl.” He huffed out. “Such a good girl for me.” His voice laced around those words in such a perfect way and you were so tempted to just let him have you. 

You knew that you were getting too caught up in all of it. You knew that you were about to break your own rule that you had just set hours ago - 

No. You couldn’t. You couldn’t let this go too far. 

When Isaac’s hand wandered around to the front of your skirt and began pulling it up, you grabbed for his wrist, stopping him. He immediately pulled away from your lips, let his leg drop from between your thighs, and took a small step back from you. He reached up and gently brushed a timid hand across your forehead as he looked into your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice coated in guilt, obviously wondering what he had done wrong. 

“We can’t do this.” You announced, your voice small and quivering. 

You were brimming with lust, and you hated to draw the line here. But you couldn’t have sex with him again and then have him get scared and run off again. You had to set boundaries. You had to prioritize yourself. You wouldn’t just let him have pieces of you. He would take everything: the beauty, the love, the sex, and the fear - or he would get nothing. 

“Why not?” He asked - now it was his turn to be confused. 

“Isaac, I meant what I said. No sex. I’m not having sex with you again unless it’s as your girlfriend.” You explained, your voice firm. “Unless I know that we’ll be together afterwards.” 

Isaac sucked in a breath, and stood up to his full height, looking away from you. Clearly, he was mulling it over in his head. 

“It’s not fair for you to keep playing with my emotions like this.” You added on. 

As much as you wanted to have sex with him, you couldn’t handle the push and pull, the back and forth. You wanted a complete relationship with him, or you wanted the temptation of him being yours to just stop. If he wasn’t going to fully commit, then you needed the hand holding, the kissing, the sex, all of it - to stop. 

“You’re right.” He sighed after a long moment. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

You sighed, feeling that horrible clawing ache inside of you. He looked at you through his lashes, somehow seeming so small even though he was taller than you. He had the bluest puppy dog eyes, silently begging - and you gave in. 

“Just one more.” You said curtly, hating yourself for giving in to something you both desperately wanted. 

He grinned, and then he leaned down to capture your lips for one more firm, sweet kiss. 

“I don’t think I can stay away from you.” He mumbled against your mouth, giving you another last kiss. 

“Then don’t.” You whispered in return. 

Isaac heaved a deep sigh, and finally, hesitantly pulled away from you. 

You saw the terrible look of warring on his face. He still hadn’t decided if he could truly stand it yet - if the fear of possibly losing you would be too all consuming or not. So he didn’t give you an answer, and deciding not to press him, you changed the subject. 

“Will you actually walk me to class now?” You asked. “Especially considering that you made me late.” 

Isaac nodded. “Of course.” 

It was then that you noticed that one of your feet felt particularly cold against the tile, when you looked down, you realized that one of your shoes was missing. 

“Where’s my shoe?” You gaped, entirely confused as to how and when it had gone missing. 

Isaac laughed, and after a quick scan of the room, he grabbed it for you. You were surprised when he got down on his knees in front of you, silently offering to put it back on for you in a very ‘Cinderella’ moment. 

“I can put my own shoe on,” You mumbled, still, offering your foot out. 

He oh-so-gently grabbed your ankle and put your shoe on so delicately, as if you were the most precious doll in the world, as if his fingertips touching you too stiffly would break you. While looking up at you through his lashes in that way that made him look almost innocent but so terribly mischievous at the same time. 

“I know.” He said quietly in return. 

He then reached out and used a simple touch to straighten out your knee high sock, pulling it up a bit more, and he did the most terrible thing that he ever could have - he laid a simple kiss on the inner part of your thigh above your sock, causing your pussy to cry out in protest. 

You had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming at him, wanting to beg him for all kinds of things as he rose from his knees and grabbed your bag again, offering you his hand to walk you to class for real this time. 

Obviously, he wanted you to spend the afternoon thinking about him in the same way he had been thinking about you all morning. And his plan was definitely going to work. 

… 

When the bell rang for lunch, you walked casually into the hall, not expecting Allison to come bursting through the crowd of people who were quickly gathering as they spilled out of their respective classrooms. 

“Hi, hey, hi, excuse me!” Allison came barreling through, practically knocking people out of the way, and you were shocked out of your calm mood when she grabbed your hand and began frantically dragging you away. 

“Oh my god, where’s the fire?” You gasped, nearly dropping the binder that you had been holding in your haste to keep up with her frantic pace, your insides beginning to thump with panic as you wondered if she was running away from something actually dangerous, if she was rushing to find help. 

She didn’t explain herself, not yet. She dragged you down another long hall, and when the two of you rounded the corner, she shoved you up against a nearby locker, and double checked behind herself with paranoia before she took a breath. 

“What’s wrong?” You pressed. “Is someone chasing you? Is it one of those stupid twins? Is it both of them? Is it-?” 

“I kissed Scott.” She rushed out, all in one quick blip, breathless as she took another glance around the corner, as if waiting for Scott to appear at the mention of his name. 

“Oh my god, you ass! You made me think there was a real emergency!” You scolded, reaching over and gently shoving her shoulder. 

With all the dangers you had been warned of, terrible people supposedly hiding around every corner, ‘coming for you’, you were relieved that this was currently Allison’s biggest thing to run from. But at the same time, you hated the terrible sour panic that had flooded you, a feeling that you were now trying to contend with soothing away. 

“This is an emergency!” She hissed back, raising a hand toward her face and biting her nail, clearly stressed out. 

“Did you want to kiss him?” You prodded, knowing that Scott would never be the type to force himself onto anyone. You knew that likely wasn’t the nature of the ‘emergency’ that Allison was talking about. She was likely having the exact same issue that you had just a short while ago. 

“Yes.” Allison sighed. “But that’s the problem.” 

You nodded, giving her a knowing look. 

“Like - ugh! Ugh.” She pressed a hand against her forehead, sharply shaking her head as she glued her eyes shut, obviously feeling intense regret about the situation. 

“What happened?” You pressed. 

“We both had a free period. And he found me, and he wanted to sit with me. And like - that’s innocent, and friendly, why should I say ‘no’ to that, right? And we were talking about how to potentially handle the Alpha Pack, and next thing I know, I’m just staring at his big dumb puppy dog eyes, and I’m leaning in, and he’s leaning in - and when I kissed him, it all just came flooding back, and-” 

“And it felt like you were never apart from him in the first place.” You sighed, pulling from your own experience, knowing that your voice sounded like some mixture of dreamy and pathetic. Of course, you were thinking of kissing Isaac earlier that day - the soft sweetness of his lips on yours, the way he kissed so perfectly firm and comforting, the way he was so warm against you… 

“God, we are so screwed, aren’t we?” Allison laughed brightly. 

“Probably.” You chuckled in return. “Epically screwed.” 

And of course, just then, you spotted Isaac and Scott walking down the hallway, talking intently, Scott seemingly giving Isaac the same rundown about the situation that Allison had just given you - his hands moving as he spoke animatedly. So you grabbed Allison’s hand and tore her away in the opposite direction, hoping that the boys hadn’t had a chance to spot the two of you. 

“Where are we going?” Allison asked, a slight jump of nerves in her voice. 

“Uh - library.” You said, attempting to sound confident. “Both of them hate studying, so - that’s a good bet, right?” 

“Good point.” Allison gave a small smile. “Ooh, and I need help with that English assignment. I really don’t get this poetry stuff.” 

“You too?” You laughed, causing Allison’s brows to slant with confusion. “Stiles called me last night, begging me for help with the assignment.” 

Allison wanted to make a comment about how Stiles was obviously in love with you, and would use any excuse to talk to you, but she held back. 

“It’s what you’re good at.” She said as the two of you entered the library and she followed you to the back. You were looking for a secluded table, one where the boys wouldn’t see the two of you, even if they did peek their heads in to look. “Personally, I like logical things - like research, history, math. I don’t understand all this… interpretation and metaphor stuff. I don’t like making up the answer, I just want someone to tell me what the right answer is.” 

“Ugh, you like math?” You scoffed as you sat down on the table, and Allison shook her head woefully as she sat down across from you. “I hate math. Formulas - numbers. Because there’s only one answer, I am always terrified to get the answer wrong. My brain does not work like that.” 

“And see, that’s why I need you.” Allison said, unzipping her bag and beginning to pull out books. “I do not get this Tell-Tale Heart thing - what’s with the eye? And why is it blue? And if he killed that guy, why is his heart still beating under the floorboards? Did he just do a terrible job of killing him?” 

You hung your head sharply, hating the surface level interpretation of the story, but then you took out a sharp breath, preparing yourself to explain it patiently. 

“It’s a metaphor.” You told her. “The main character of the story is hallucinating. He killed someone and then he continues to hear his heart beating, increasingly loudly, especially in the presence of police, due to guilt over the murder. It’s the idea that all the things you do, you carry with you, so you have to consider the consequences.” 

Allison got a very thoughtful look on her face. 

“Yeah, I get that.” She nodded. 

You had no clue what she was thinking of - her mind lingering on chasing down Derek’s pack and shooting them full of arrows, thirsty for a revenge that perhaps she wasn’t even owed. 

“But what’s the eyeball?” She asked, eager to move on. 

“You’re so stuck on that.” You chuckled. “The assignment is to pick one of Poe’s works and interpret the meaning of it, right?” 

She nodded. You had to assume that Ms. Blake gave the same assignment to all her classes, and even though you and Allison didn’t share the same English period, you and Allison had been given the same assignment. 

She nodded. 

“Well one of the biggest issues people have with poetry, especially when it’s in older English, is not necessarily with understanding it, but relating to it.” You said. “You don’t relate to late nineteenth century fears about police surveillance and the prevalence of crime and punishment, and the omnipresence of a malevolent God from hyper-theists in collision with modernism, because you weren’t alive at the time.” 

You explained, reaching for your bag and unzipping it, grabbing a book you had been carrying around with you for a while now - a collection of Poe’s poems that you owned. Allison went slightly slack-jawed at this, seemingly struggling to understand what you were saying, but you didn’t bother slowing down to explain, because the bigger part of your point was upcoming. 

You put the book on the tabletop and began flicking through it, looking for something specific. 

“Something that is always relatable - love. Especially in tragedy.” You said, nodding as you found the specific page you needed. 

“Tragedy?” Allison gaped, hating the implication that you found her love life to be ‘tragic’.

“Just read this.” You said, motioning toward the page you had landed on. 

“Annabel Lee?” Allison read aloud, now curious. 

She picked it up and her brows knit thoughtfully as she began reading the poem to herself. 

“What’s sep-ul-ch-ch-ray?” Allison asked, struggling to pronounce the word. 

“Sep-il-cure.” You corrected her gently. “A sepulchre, it’s like a tomb.” 

“She died?!” Allison gaped, shocked, raising her voice likely too loudly for the library, causing a few people to look over. 

“Just keep reading.” You pressed. 

It was then that you noticed someone past her shoulder - a very familiar face staring at the two of you from the library doors between two tall shelves. Scott was staring across the room at Allison with the most intense longing you had ever seen. A look you had probably only seen on Isaac when he looked at you. 

“I’ll be right back.” You said, moving to get up, knowing that Allison didn’t want to talk to Scott right now. Not that he had done anything wrong - but she was far too liable to get drawn in by his ‘puppy eyes’ again. 

Allison took a passing glance over her shoulder as you walked away, and the minute she saw Scott, she ducked her head back into the book again, hiding herself. 

“Who died?” Scott asked as you approached him, obviously eager to discern the meaning of Allison’s words, having easily heard what she had said, werewolf hearing or not. 

“Annabel Lee.” You told him. He looked on with confusion and worry, and you added on. “A fictional character, from a book.” 

It was the easiest way you could explain it to him, above saying that she was a metaphor from a poem that could possibly represent childhood innocence and the incarnation of nostalgia.  

“Oh.” He nodded, very relieved at this. 

“Well, me and Allison are busy studying.” You pressed, hoping that he would get the hint and leave. When he continued to stand there, staring at you expectantly, you added on: “Did you want something?” 

“Did she… say anything to you?” He asked, hesitantly, unsure if he wanted the answer, nervous of what she had told you.  

You knew him too well. This was him asking if she had said anything to you about the kiss, if she had spoken about her feelings for him, about the two of them possibly getting back together. It was a confusing puzzle for the two of them, and he was hoping that you would be the key to helping him solve it all. 

“Look, if she did say anything to me, I am bound by the sanctity of Girl Code.” You told him, making up a quick lie because you knew that Allison was confused about her feelings, about the potential future of the relationship, and she needed more time away from Scott to think. “But if you really want her back, then you have to be the one to tell her.” 

“But-” Scott sighed. 

“And that is all I have to say on the matter.” You said firmly. 

You definitely had your fill of relationship drama for the day, and you knew that you didn’t have any more sage advice to give out. Especially when you were speaking from a ditch rather than a pulpit with your current situation. 

Scott sighed and nodded. 

“You’re right.” He finally admitted. He then reached into his pocket for something. “She left this behind, uh - before.” He clearly struggled not to mention the kiss, and he handed you over a floral pink pen that clearly belonged to Allison. 

“A pen?” You gaped. “You were really looking for an excuse, huh?” 

Scott shrugged, and he gave one last lingering glance at Allison before he turned to leave. 

You shook your head and moved back to Allison, who gave another curious glance behind her. 

“What did he want?” She asked, quiet, trying not to seem too eager. 

“He was returning your pen.” You told her, laying it down in front of her, the look of intense mischief and knowing on your face spelling it all out. In a moment, she knew that he hadn’t come just to bring her back the pen, but it was a nice excuse. “Are you gonna talk to him later?” 

Allison huffed, leaning back in her chair. 

“I - ugh. I don’t know.” She said, frustration and confusion brimming up inside of her. 

You hated seeing how much this tore her up inside, and it gave you an idea. 

“How about this? Me and Lydia are going to get manicures after school. I’m sure Lydia would be happy if you came along.” You posed, knowing that Lydia would truly be happy to have another girl tag along, especially someone she loved as much as Allison. “We can have a nice, drama-free afternoon with no guys around, and then you can think about the Scott thing later.” 

“And I can do the stupid poetry assignment later.” She said, giving an excited grin, shoving your book into her bag - in the natural rhythm of friendship, not even asking to borrow it, simply knowing that you would let her use it because she needed it for now. “There’s not a movie of this with a hot actor that we can rent, is there?” 

You giggled, shaking your head. “Sadly, no.” 

Ever since you had introduced her to the Leonardo Dicaprio version of Romeo and Juliet, using it to help her understand the play, it was something that the two of you had turned into a homework tradition. The ‘renting the movie’ approach had been what the two of you had done for a lot of other English assignments. And even outside of that, you had introduced her to a lot of the classics through their films, something that the two of you had a lot of fun with. 

“No, but there is a reading of The Tell-Tale Heart by one of the hot actors from that crime show - the one who plays that nerdy hot guy. He did an audio reading - and his voice is just so… yummy. I’ll send you the link later.” 

“That sounds like a deal.” 

… 

Luckily, the rest of the afternoon passed without incident, and when you texted Lydia asking if Allison could come along after school, she said ‘of course, bestie, just don’t let her drag Scott along too’. So you texted Allison to meet up with the two of you. It was nice to have an afternoon doing girly things, free of boys, and free from the emotional drama that came with them. 

You were thankful to have such a great friend who had thought of it. The afternoon started off with the three of you doing a lap of the mall - Lydia had insisted on buying you some far too expensive skin care in a fancy store that you had been far too intimidated to go into before, because ‘stress makes you break out, and you should at least try to take care of yourself, bestie’. And then you and Allison both tried on several dozen outfits for her while she styled them with accessories, and she insisted on buying you several new dresses, and she bought Allison some new sweaters and shoes. 

And now, you were sitting at what should have been a happy, distracting nail appointment with Lydia and Allison on either side, being pampered like the queen you definitely were not. You hated that your mind wandered back to Isaac once again in the quiet, calming, spa-like environment of the expensive salon. 

“I really don’t know - what do you think, Y/N, pink or blue?” Allison asked, holding up two tabs of potential colours for her manicure, one of a very light baby pink, and the other of a darker navy blue. Both colours she liked and would commonly match the outfits she wore. 

You weren’t truly paying attention, stuck in thoughts of Isaac, wondering how he was doing, wondering what he was doing right now, wondering where your relationship with him would end up, because ultimately, the decision was in his hands. It took her nudging your arm and calling your name again to force you to truly absorb the question. 

“Y/N?” 

“Oh, uh - blue.” You answered. 

“No.” Lydia said, moving her arm around you to grab the tab with the baby pink on it instead, her other hand currently taken up by the manicurist, someone she said was the best. Hence why each of you had taken turns, with you going first (which was a huge flattery coming from Lydia, letting you go above herself), with Lydia now going second, and Allison picking her colour before she would go last. 

“Allison, sweetheart, you’re a Spring.” Lydia said firmly, in that condescending, all-knowing way that she always did. “Softer tones will always look better with your skin. Go with the pink. Y/N, I thought you knew that.” 

“Yeah.” You mumbled under your breath, staring down at your own nails contemplatively. 

You had chosen a warm sparkling orange - one of your favourite colours, like the dress you had worn to the Winter Formal, back when you and Isaac were still together. Back when you had still been happy, when things had been so easy for you. 

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asked, seeing the firm seriousness across your face as you stared at your freshly manicured nails while your feet soaked in soothing water, preparing for your pedicure. “Did they get the colour wrong? I thought you wanted sparkling sunset vermillion? Orange does not work on a lot of people, but it really is your colour somehow. Or did you want the heart shaped gems instead? We can get it redone-” 

“It’s fine.” You replied. “Everything is great, Lydia. It’s perfect.” You told her, giving a smile that you knew was forced, trying your best to show your appreciation for the wonderful afternoon that she had given you. 

Lydia’s expression instantly turned thoughtful, and rather than replying to you, she turned to one of the employees, calling them over by name. 

“Ashton! Hello! Hi, Ashton - can I please get a cucumber water? Sparkling, and my friend here will have lemon water and a wheatgrass shot.” She said, gesturing toward you. “And my other friend will have a glass of green tea with a slice of lemon. Thank you,” 

“Of course, Miss Martin.” 

Ashton nodded, and fluttered off to fetch these things - Lydia came to this spa so often that apparently she had an account here, and she was beloved by them, so it didn’t surprise you that she knew the employees by name. 

“You remembered.” Allison grinned toward Lydia. 

Allison didn’t drink coffee often, but she did enjoy tea, and it was something that Lydia had easily observed about her over a short period of time. 

“Of course.” Lydia nodded. “It’s good for the skin. It’s why you have such a natural glow.” 

“Wheatgrass?” You questioned. You had heard it was a gross tasting drink that usually only health driven people consumed. 

“It’s good for the immune system.” She replied. “And it’s very good to cleanse the soul of bullshit.” 

Lydia looked at you pointedly, knowing that you were lying about something - even if you did like your manicure, you were being distracted and unpleasant for some reason. 

Allison let out a snort of laughter at this, and picked up a nearby magazine, browsing through it as she waited for her turn to get her nails done. 

You rolled your eyes. “What?! I like my nails, I’m not lying.” 

“Yes, but apparently the ultra fabulous manicure didn’t cheer you up from your uber icky boy problems.” Lydia sighed. 

“‘Uber icky boy problems’? Have I been transported back to middle school?” You gaped. 

“No, because if you had been, then our biggest problem would be who to take to a dance that happens during daylight in a poorly decorated gym that still reeks like sweat.” Lydia sighed. 

“I went to middle school in London.” Allison hummed thoughtfully. “They called it primary school - but they didn’t have any sweaty, poorly decorated dances. Just itchy wool uniforms and people who made fun of me for having an ‘American’ accent.” 

She put air quotes around this, and you let out a laugh at the thought of her ‘accent’ being mocked in another place. 

“That is so not the point.” Lydia grunted, rolling her eyes. 

“You’re right.” Allison surrendered. “The point is that now we all have-” She cut herself off quickly, realizing that the employees were around and might hear the bizarre nature of the conversation if she openly declared that all three of you had werewolves as boyfriends. “Now, our boyfriends are… non-committal weirdos.” 

“Hmph.” Lydia scoffed. “That’s what happens when you seek commitment from a man - all you get is disappointment.” 

There was an edge of hurt on her voice, and you could tell that in the back of her mind, she was thinking about Jackson. But before she could further speak on it, someone with intensely funky spiked hair sat down in front of you to begin your pedicure, and passed you a row of colour swatches, silently asking which one you wanted. 

“French, classic white and nude.” Lydia told the person, taking the colour swatches bad from you and passing it to them. “You always get French tips for a pedicure, it’s way classier.” 

“You’re so bossy.” Allison chuckled, a smile stretched across her lips, obviously knowing that this was Lydia’s way of showing love to her friends. 

“It’s not my fault I have superior taste.” Lydia shrugged. “And you’re not distracting me from talking about the problem at hand. Are we going to have to kill him?” She asked, her face flat and serious as she turned to you. 

You shook your head, suppressing a grin as you remembered what had happened, the ghost of his hands all over you as he hand pinned you against the lockers…  

“I really don’t want Isaac dead after what happened today,” You told Lydia, your voice stupidly dreamy once again. 

“What happened?” Allison asked, curious. “Or - are you talking about this morning, when he tried to break up with you and then stuck his tongue in your mouth?” 

“He did what?!” Lydia asked, clearly appalled that she had not been informed of the situation. 

You hated the feeling of both the manicurist and the pedicurist staring you down, clearly not shy about drinking in every detail of the conversation, and you chose to stare at Lydia instead of even daring to make eye contact with either of them. 

“I am not going over that again.” You sighed. “And besides, I was talking about something else.” 

“What else?” Allison grinned, eager for the details of someone else’s romantic problems. “What happened?” 

“He… he dragged me into the boys locker room and started making out with me.” You relayed, feeling slightly embarrassed to run down the details when other people were clearly listening. “Clearly, he wanted more, but I cut it off.” 

“Oh my god.” Allison laughed, shaking her head at the irony that the two of you had such similar experiences, and you were both running from the intense affections of someone who might not be able to live up to their feelings. 

“Why? Is he a bad kisser?” Lydia quickly reasoned out. 

The person filing your toenails let out a snort of laughter, and you glared at them. 

“No, he’s not a bad kisser.” You rushed to defend Isaac even though he wasn’t there to hear it. “That’s - ugh. That’s the whole problem, actually.” You heaved a sigh. “I don’t want the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing. I want to be his girlfriend. And I hate how he keeps going back and forth. It’s like he wants to be with me, but at the same time, he doesn’t. And I hate the stupid tug of war.” 

“It’s the nobility.” Allison said. “He’s afraid of you getting hurt.” 

“Well he needs to stop it.” You sighed. “Either way - I’m gonna get hurt. I’m hurt by not being with him.” 

Just then, Ashton returned with a tray holding your drinks, and he placed them down on a small table between you and Lydia and she thanked him with a smile. 

“Oh my god, that reminds me of my ex-boyfriend.” He sighed. “He just could not commit.” 

“Some men are just like that.” Lydia sighed. “Like Jackson.” 

“But you and Jackson dated for like two years,” You remarked. “Obviously, he wanted to be with you.” 

“Drink your wheatgrass,” She told you sharply, trying to avoid delving further into the topic of Jackson. 

You picked up the small cup - it was green and looked like it had come out of a swap, and you hesitantly took a small sip of it. It tasted exactly like its name - grass. 

“Ugh - you’re just making me drink icky juice because you don’t like Isaac.” You accused, and Lydia smiled. 

“I’m doing something good for you, because you insist on dating a man who keeps stressing you out. Now drink.” She repeated, firm and authoritative. 

You opened your mouth wide and forced it all down at once - like you would have with a shot of vodka (though you likely would have been able to get vodka down easier), and then you quickly reached for the lemon water as a chaser and took a few large gulps of it to wash away the taste. 

“What was so non-committal about Jackson?” Allison asked. “Y/N has a point - the two of you dated for a long time.” 

“Yeah.” You added on, still wincing slightly from the terrible taste, eager to distract yourself from thinking about Isaac by talking about something else. “He seemed like a… good… boyfriend.” 

Allison breathed out another laugh at your delivery of the words, and Lydia sharply rolled her eyes. 

You hesitated to say it, because in truth, he hadn’t really seemed like a good boyfriend from the outside. He had worn the title of ‘boyfriend’ for Lydia for a long time, but the two of them had never really seemed happy together. It seemed like they just dated each other because they had to - because it was what was expected of them. The super pretty popular girl dates the hot jock. But you didn’t know why they were really together. 

“Yeah, he called himself my boyfriend, but he never really wanted to act like it.” Lydia remarked. “He didn’t want to buy me a birthday present, he never remembered our anniversary. He never wanted to hold hands in public, and he totally didn’t care if I flirted with other guys in front of him. It took him two whole years of us dating for him to even give me the key to his place, and even then, he said it was just for sex.” 

“That sounds like him.” Allison sighed, shaking her head. 

You raised your brows sharply at this, surprised that Jackson wasn’t someone who was ramped with jealousy. He had someone as perfect as Lydia, and he didn’t treat her like a queen? How stupid was he? 

Of course, this made you think of Isaac - the thing you had been trying to avoid, right back on your mind. It made you think of how he remembered your birthday, without fail, without having to be told.

Even if he couldn’t afford to buy you expensive gifts, he always tried to do something special for your birthday. He would plan a late night picnic in the middle of the lacrosse field for you so that the two of you could eat while staring at the stars. He would show up late at night and throw rocks at your window and (badly) sing your favourite love songs to you. 

Often - he would steal things for you, and you pretended not to know where those things came from. Whenever he showed up with a particularly nice bracelet or necklace as a present for you, you knew that he hadn’t bought them, and you came to be okay with that. 

And he loved holding hands with you, showing you affection. He loved being your boyfriend. He was such a sweet person… he was the best. 

You hated the horrible pang that came through your chest as you were once again stuck in missing him. 

“So… why did the two of you even start dating in the first place?” You asked. 

“I guess… he thought of me as a prize?” Lydia theorized. “I’m pretty, I’m popular. Having me as his girlfriend just made other people jealous. And I just… looked nice on his arm.” 

“Did you ever even actually like him?” Allison asked, speaking aloud something that was also rattling through your head. 

It was something you were also curious about. To you, this was the most important part of dating, but for Lydia, it didn’t seem to factor in at all. 

“I guess.” Lydia shrugged. “I mean… sometimes he was likeable.” 

Her expression became very distant then, ripe with nostalgia, and you became curious about something. 

“Do you miss him?” You asked. 

“Maybe sometimes.” She sighed. She paused for a moment, and then she added on: “He was really good in bed.” 

All three of you burst out laughing at this, and finally, this laughter was the first thing all day that cleared up some of the tense stress that had been clouding over you like a storm. 

“Oh my god.” Allison gaped, clearly shocked by this answer. 

“There’s just something about a man who’s emotionally unavailable, isn’t there?” Lydia theorized. 

“Sadly, you’re right.” You nodded. 

“Ce que vous désirez le plus est ce que vous ne pouvez pas avoir.” Allison recited, causing you and Lydia to look on in confusion before she added: “The thing you desire most is the thing you cannot have. My grandmother used to say it all the time.” 

“Amen.” The manicurist hummed. 

“Oh no,” Lydia sighed. “We are gonna need way more retail therapy, aren’t we?” 

By the time you got home, you had several large bagfuls of clothing - Lydia insisted on dressing you like a doll, and you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. But still, the beautiful new dresses and sweaters and shoes couldn’t keep your mind from creeping back to Isaac as you drove yourself home and lugged the bags into a dark, quiet, empty apartment, likely knowing that your sister was working another night shift at her bar job again. 

You kicked the apartment door shut behind you, your arms overloaded with shopping bags, not yet bothering to turn on any of the lights as you heaved your bags into the middle of the floor. In the back of your mind, wondering which of your fabulous new outfits you would wear tomorrow, and you walked over to the fridge, exhausted and thirsty and maybe a bit hungry, considering if you would even bother to have a full meal before going to bed. 

Your body jolted with shock when a lamp in the living room clicked to life. 

You took your hand off the fridge’s door handle and spun around, your heart pounding even harder in your chest when you saw that the silhouette in the living room was most definitely not your sister. It was a large, broad man sitting in one of the arm chairs. When you blinked a few times and adjusted to the light, you quickly recognized the dark facial hair and spiked hairstyle as belonging to - 

“Derek Hale?” You gaped. “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in here?” 

You distinctly remembered that you had used your key on the lock to get in. So the door had been locked. How had he been able to get in? Had he broken one of the windows? Why was he here? What did he want with you? 

Your heart continued to pound inside your chest, and the two of you engaged in a tight, fierce staredown. He didn’t move toward you, and you wondered if he was trying to lure you into a false sense of security before he jumped on you and tried to hurt you. 

Was he one of the dangerous Alphas that Isaac had been trying to warn you about? But Isaac supposedly liked him, Isaac had been trying to defend him to you… 

“You need to stay away from Isaac.” Derek said, his voice dark and firm, immediately instilling fear into you. 

Why the hell did he care about Isaac now? 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one who needs to stay the hell away from Isaac.” You bit back, unable to stop the words. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to voice your opinions to the man who had kicked Isaac out onto the street, soaking wet with nowhere else to go. Even if that had been the thing that had drawn you and Isaac back together again, Derek Hale had no right to talk about who should care for Isaac after doing that. 

Derek sighed sharply, rolling his eyes, but did not speak again. 

“How did you get in here?” You pressed again. “Where did you come from?” 

“Are you even listening to me?” He barked, raising his voice in a way that made you jump as he stood from the chair, beginning to cross the living room, slowly looming closer to you. 

You began to creep down the edge of the counter, inching toward the knife block on the other end, believing that you might need a weapon to protect yourself. He said that his goal was to keep you away from Isaac - but what was he willing to do in order to make that happen? 

Derek let out another harsh sigh and rolled his eyes again. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” He said, clearly annoyed at your assumption - something that didn’t seem too far fetched in your mind. 

“Last time I saw you, you ripped a man’s throat out.” You argued, not giving up. 

You came to rest your hand comfortably on top of the knife block, gripping one of the handles in case you needed to use it as a weapon, not shy about hiding your stance. You still stood at odds with Derek, staring him down harshly - knowing that the ‘man’ you spoke of had been a giant beast of a werewolf. But still, that didn’t mean Derek wasn’t dangerous. It didn’t mean he was innocent. 

“Yeah, after that man killed a dozen people - including your mother and my sister.” He replied firmly. 

This stole any further words from your throat. You couldn’t help but to see the justice in this. You had to wonder if that was why he had committed such a brutal killing in the first place. 

“I’m not the one who’s gonna hurt you.” He added on, his voice a bit quieter this time - almost as if he was trying to be softer, more approachable somehow. “But if you keep dating Isaac, you will get hurt.” 

His words were chilling, ominous. 

“You say that like it’s a threat.” You noted, still unsure what his motivations were. Was he aligned with the Alpha Pack? Did he want Isaac to become aligned with them too? 

“I’m not trying to threaten you.” He said, his voice firm and steady, but ultimately emotionless. “I’m just warning you. Stay away from Isaac-” 

“Since when do you care about Isaac?” You bit back, burning with passion on the subject, now suspicious that Derek might be trying to use Isaac for his own means, just to throw him away again later. “You kicked him out into the pouring rain with nowhere to go-” 

“Don’t!” Derek growled, his voice going deep and primal as his eyes flashed a scary, beastly red, once again shaking your insides and causing your heart to pound. You gripped the knife harder, considering bolting out the door and to your car, even though it was your home, and he was the invader. “Don’t question what I care about.” 

You were intimidated into silence once again, and he added on: 

“All of it is complicated. Way too complicated for you to ever understand. So you need to just - stay out of it.” 

“Isaac is the one who won’t stay away from me.” You said, tears dancing in your eyes as you wondered if the situation could truly end with one of you getting hurt. 

“He’s just a stupid kid, and that’s gonna get him hurt. You need to be the responsible one. You need to be the one to draw the line. You’re the one who’s not tangled up in all this. You’re not a part of the Pack.” Derek told you, a slight bit of urgency, a slight bit of emotion finally leaking through for the first time. “Just - stay away.” 

With that last firm explanation, he stormed out the front door, slamming it closed behind him, leaving you absolutely shocked and shaken. The whole thing caused you to collapse down into the floor in tears, the fear and adrenaline finally hitting you all at once. 

Were you and Isaac truly in danger? Were your lives truly at risk?

...

A/N: So, I have tried the 'reblog and comment' goal for past chapters of this, and it's never met, even though it is based off the number of people who are leaving likes on the chapter, and if those people left a comment or reblogged, then the goal would be met. And I don't want to upset myself by continually looking at the stats of a fic and analyzing them, so I am going to stop doing that. The purpose of that was always to encourage people to reblog and/or comment instead of just leaving a like on a fic, and it's clear that it's not making a difference.

So, anyway - I will always encourage people to comment or reblog if you liked the fic, and please leave your thoughts below - thoughts about the chapter and the series in general.

This is my first 100k and it is a bit upsetting that people haven't been giving it a lot of attention - people haven't really been wanting to discuss the plot and the progress of it with me, but truly, I am writing it for myself. If you have some thoughts and you're too shy to comment, feel free to come into my inbox and say something about the fic, I would love to hear from you.

As always, happy reading, and I hope you enjoyed the fic.