#overachiever.

Play-by Suggestions: Sophie Turner, Maddison Brown, Sophie Skelton, Lorenzo Zurzolo, Rudy Pankow

underneath it all, we’re just savages.                                      hidden behind shirts, ties, and marriages.                       how can we expect anything at all?

It clicked, then. Everything. All the dumb moves Jackson had made. He’d truly wanted to protect Lydia, with everything that he was, he wanted to protect her. She loved him, and he hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Derek wanted to delve deeper into the subject, quite frankly, but he let it drop, knowing Paige would inevitably turn up in the conversation. He didn’t want to think about her, let alone talk about her. It hurt too much. So the alpha kept quiet, and he tried drifting off, but Paige was in his mind, her pretty face and her delicate skin and her fragile, innocent little life. The guilt hit him again, and the teenage heartbreak returned. A diluted tear hit the fabric of the couch, but Derek made not a sound.

Derek popped the pills in his mouth without hesitation, only thinking to second guess them after he’d swallowed. And he had to say, hearing Jackson admit to missing Lydia, he did feel he was a bit more human — no pun intended. Maybe he could change. Maybe. Derek stayed quiet for a good minute or two, just lying on the couch, drowsy. “Why’d you break up with her in the first place?” The alpha curled into the cushions, wondering aloud. “What’d she do?”

“Lydia will be surprised to see you,” Derek said, finally, finally curling up on the couch. “You should meet her new play-toy, Aiden. Complete asshole, like you,” he grumbled. The alpha rolled over onto his side, away from Jackson. His head throbbed. His throat burned. And he sighed. “Youshouldtellheryou’reherethough… ‘cause she… she missed you.”

I lose all of them anyway. Lo and behold, the greatest plot twist of the century — Derek Hale, drunk, had a filter on his speech. The alpha snarled at Jackson when he pushed him away from the glass. Derek poured what he had in his hands in the trashcan in the kitchen, wiping off his hands. “You won’t be able to do anything either, you don’t know what they’re capable of.”

"I’ll tell you what it fuckin’ counts for," Derek barked, taking the bottle again in his hand. "Nothing. It doesn’t count for shit. You can’t change, I know you.” He took a long gulp from the bottle, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, embracing the burn. “You’re arrogant and stupid. And you’ll never change. Keep driving your Porsche, go back to London, because nobody needs you here.”