I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did Derek would still be a main character.

Song - Tongues // Joywave feat. KOPPS

Celeste's POV

        Celeste Lune sat delicately beneath a large willow tree, carefully balancing a weathered, red leather journal on her thighs and daintily biting into a crisp, red apple.

        She let her eyes flutter shut and took a moment to let her senses be flooded with the sounds of the vast forest that surrounded her.

        Celeste had stumbled upon the Beacon Hills Preserve a few days after her family had moved to the small town. She was ecstatic to find such a large, relatively solitary expanse to take refuge in.

        After all, she had always preferred the quiet purity and sense of tranquility nature offered, as opposed the fast-paced, corrupted feel of more heavily populated areas.

        She was very pleased to have found many untouched hideaways in which she could relax.

        After listening intently to the low whistle of the soft summer breeze and the cheery chirping of the birds, she returned her gaze to the ink-filled pages of her beloved journal.

        She pursed her full lips in thought, her long, dark hair cascading around her as she leaned down slightly towards the book, neatly jotting down the basis of the next line of her forming poem. 

        Celeste adored the art form that was poetry.

        It was one of the few forms of self-expression that she felt could get her emotions across in a sufficient way. Spoken words were fleeting, and, in her opinion, have often lost their meaning due to overuse.

        One of her favorite aspects of poetry was how therapeutic it could be. When she felt conflicted with a decision or confused by the inner-workings of her own mind, she would simply turn those feelings into poetry, and then translate it back into thoughts.

        She found that by analyzing her words, she could discover thoughts that were lurking in her subconscious.

        Currently, she was taking sanctuary in what was arguably her favorite secret hideaway she had discovered to date. She gazed out at the lovely view around her, admiring the enormous weeping willow trees draped with long, soft strands of Spanish moss.

        She loved the way the moss seemed to be reaching towards her, whispering the secrets of the world in a wise, comforting tone.

        A soft trickling sound could be heard as clear water ran through the shallow creek a few feet away from the white tips of Celeste's black, worn Vans.

        She spotted a chipmunk scurrying around the stream, and observed the birds that were nestled so deeply in the trees, singing a jubilant song through their erratic chirps without a care in the world.

        Celeste enjoyed this spot in particular because of the pure tranquility that radiated throughout the scenery.

        Whenever she visited this place, it seemed as though time stopped, and all of her worries seemed minuscule, unimportant.

        When she saw the animals working diligently to survive for the sake of surviving, it really put everything into perspective, and she could relax slightly, if only for a little while.

        At the moment, she was writing about the boy with the spattering of moles and honey eyes, as he clouded her thoughts in an unfamiliar way.

        She had found herself intrigued by his spastic movements and seemingly genuine actions. She only wished that she had had more time to get to know him, to understand him.

        She regretted her hasty disappearance in the middle of their conversation, but the immediate and strong connection she had felt scared her more than a little bit. Besides, she didn't think her mother would approve.

        She had developed a tendency to automatically push people away over the years. She assumed it was because she moved around frequently and suddenly, coupled by the fact that she was shy and often got lost in her own head.

        The fair-skinned girl jumped as a high pitched 'ting' resonated through the otherwise peaceful atmosphere.

        She frowned, realizing she had forgotten to shut off her cell phone as she normally did when she retreated into isolation.

        Fishing the offending phone out of the back pocket of her dark jeans, she inspected the name that appeared on the screen.

        A soft smile formed when she read the name "Lydia", and she slid the front screen of her device up to read the incoming message that had interrupted her meditative state.

        Her bright blue eyes scanned over the abrupt words that claimed that her new friend was having an emergency and demanded that she come over immediately.

        Celeste let out an audible breath through her nose at the strawberry blonde's imperious, yet strangely lovable persona before responding that she was on her way, her thumbs creating a satisfying clicking noise as she pushed down on the tiny buttons to type a response.

         She slid her phone back into her pocket and gathered up her journal and trusty pen, gracefully rising to her feet.

        Her half-eaten apple was tossed aside unceremoniously, as she knew the red fruit would eventually decompose.

        Clutching her possessions to her chest, Celeste began to venture onward to her imperiled friend.

        Lydia Martin lived in the house diagonal to her own, and had not hesitated to march over to the girl's home, introducing herself in a manner similar to that of a queen or an old movie star.

        Upon careful inspection, the strawberry blonde beauty had apparently decided that she approved of the dark-haired girl and promptly proceeded to take Celeste under her wing.

        Originally, Lydia had befriended the girl under shallow pretenses, and Celeste had simply been relieved that she would not have to start over at a new school alone again.

        Neither girl expected to grow as close as they did, due to the fact that at the beginning they were both just using each other, speaking frankly.

        However, upon getting to know each other, the two began to appreciate each other infinitely.

        Lydia realized that Celeste was at a level of intelligence that was up to par with her own, and provided a slew of insightful ideas and refreshingly clever debates.

        Celeste discovered that the firecracker that was Lydia Martin had many layers, and was not just a superficial, self-obsessed teenager as she had once thought.

        The pair made a fantastic team, and they matched each other perfectly in terms of wit and brains.

        Celeste walked gingerly on the dirt floor of the forest, gazing up at the trees towering above her and pondering this, presumably looking spaced out, as per usual.

        Celeste was extremely hyper-observant, always noticing details about people and situations that had her mind racing, constantly drawing conclusions and piecing together awry thoughts. She tended to space out and let her mind go when she could, because most of the time she noticed every detail with vigor.

        Due to this, it was no surprise that she failed to notice the wide tree in front of her until she ran directly into it.

        At least, she assumed at the time that the solid object was a tree.

        This theory was proven false when she looked forward and was greeted by a broad, cloth-covered chest, and upon looking up seeing as he was much taller than her, the frowning face of an admittedly attractive dark haired man.

        She took in his muscular arms as they were crossed over his chest as stood stoically with his legs slightly apart. His sharp, stubble covered jaw was set and his frown was mildly reminiscent - in her opinion - to that of Grumpy Cat, yet his mossy light green eyes sparkled slightly in amusement as Celeste let out a soft, startled gasp.

        "Sorry, I didn't see you there," Celeste apologized slowly, still feeling a bit disgruntled.

        "This is private property," the phlegmatic man said sternly, blatantly ignoring her apology, "You shouldn't be here."

        Celeste bristled slightly at his tone, which seemed a bit condescending.

        "Excuse me, the Beacon Hills Preserve is private property?" she asked, pursing her lips slightly.

        The man cocked a thick, dark eyebrow, apparently shocked by the harmless looking girl having an attitude.

        However, the slight twitch that turned his lips upward for a moment was not missed by the shorter girl.

        He cocked his head slightly to the side and opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly froze and grew more tense.

        The dark haired male raised his head and any trace of amusement was gone from his now stony eyes.

        Celeste furrowed her neat brows in confusion and turned around to see if his mood change was due to an occurrence behind them.

        Upon being greeted by an unchanged environment, she looked back to face him, but the man was gone.

        She stood in a sort of confused daze for a moment before a familiar, annoying beep brought her out of her stupor.

        She frowned slightly as she pulled out the offending device and read over the angered and impatient message from Lydia, urging her to hurry up.

☾ ☽

        Celeste lay nonchalantly on Lydia's soft purple comforter, fiddling aimlessly with the simple silver necklace around her thin neck.

        Her friend's emergency had turned out to be what the 5'3'' girl described as "a fashion crisis in proportion to that of the Cuban Missile one," otherwise known as choosing her first day of school outfit.

        Personally, Celeste was planning on slipping on some comfortable jeans and a soft sweater and doing her best to blend into the crowd as she had every time she started a new school.

        However, the look on Lydia's face when she informed her of this could only be described as pure horror. What followed was a furious tornado of clothes and slightly crude comments before Lydia selected for her friend.

        Admittedly, Celeste preferred comfort over style, but she genuinely enjoyed the clothing that had been chosen for her.

        It consisted of a simple black skater skirt, paired with her own loose fitting Grouplove tour shirt tucked in to the form fitting band, a pair of shiny maroon combat boots to be worn over lacy tights.

        The two had argued over the shirt for a good five minutes before Lydia relented her objective of getting her friend to wear a form-fitting crop top, begrudgingly admitting that Celeste could pull off the 'alt' look without looking like white trash.

        Now, she was observing the authoritative female as she carelessly tossed rejected outfits for herself to the side, occasionally asking Celeste's advice before blatantly disregarding it.

        As she lay there, she noticed that for the first time since she was around twelve she had the infamous and annoying metaphorical butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

        She assumed it was because this was the first time in what seemed like forever she had not only made an actual friend, but a friend who was determined to make Celeste stand out in the cesspool of angsty teenagers and hormones that was high school.

        An indignant cough brought her out of her thoughts and she glanced up at Lydia, who was holding up a tight purple sweater with a short, pleated plaid skirt in one perfectly manicured hand and a sheer blouse with flowing shorts in the other. The girl cocked a perfectly plucked brow and gave a delicate shake of the clothing, gesturing for Celeste to choose an outfit.

        The darker haired girl pursed her lips in thought, analyzing the two outfits. Personally, she preferred the shorts and shirt combination because they seemed more efficient, but she knew Lydia would like the skirt ensemble because it was form fitting and probably very slimming.

        Though Celeste was not afraid to voice her thoughts, she found it best to pick and choose her battles carefully with Lydia.

        "The skirt would look amazing on you, Lyds," she said with a sincere smile.

        It wasn't technically a lie, Lydia would look great in a trash bag.

        A small, satisfied smirk made its way onto the strawberry blonde's lips, and she made a small noise of agreement before lazily tossing the rejected ensemble to her plush, carpeted floor.

        She hung the approved dress on a hook next to her closet, smoothing the material before flopping down stomach-first onto her duvet beside Celeste.

        "Soooo..." the girl drawled out with a suggestive undertone, peering up and the dark haired girl with a mischievous twinkle in her doe-like hazel eyes.

        Celeste simply raised a single, dark eyebrow, the universal gesture to elaborate. A smirk threatened to arise on Lydia's lips.

        "Noah Tucker asked Jackson about you," she said excitedly, clasping her hands together and placing them under her chin as her legs swung casually in the air behind her.

        "Who?" Celeste asked with furrowed brows, "and what did he ask about?"

        Lydia rolled her eyes in exasperation, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

        "He's on the lacrosse team. You know, tall, blonde, blue eyes," the frustrated girl elaborated, "and he asked if you were single."

        Celeste's eyes narrowed in thought, mentally sorting through the various guys Lydia had forcefully introduced her to on various outings. Her eyes lit up in recognition, turning her head slightly to face her grinning friend.

        "Is it the one with that huge scar on his arm?" she asked in realization.

        Lydia pursed her lips in thought before nodding in confirmation.

        Celeste thought back to her brief interaction with the male. She remembered him getting too close for comfort, in her personal opinion. She also recalled him basically undressing her with his eyes in a way that she was sure he thought was subtle.

        Her nose scrunched slightly in distaste and Lydia took her expression as a resounding 'no'. She groaned and turned her body to rest on her back dejectedly.

        "So what exactly is your type, Cel? I mean, so far every boy I've attempted to set you up with has apparently not fit your standards. Just please don't tell me you're into boys who listen to screamo and wear tunnel plugs."

        "I don't have a type. That suggests that everyone falls into specific group, and that we are programmed to be the same inside. Everyone is different, you can't just describe everyone with such a broad term," the girl replied indignantly, "besides, I don't want a relationship. They're strenuous, I'm no good with feelings, and if you go looking for love, you'll probably end up settling."

        Lydia simply groaned again in response, mumbling about how she was no fun, but she let the subject go.

        The two proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon debating over various things and Celeste listening to her friend rant about every possible aspect of her relationship with Jackson Whittemore.

        Celeste got along fine with Jackson, but she often found his abrasive attitude and arrogant persona to be rather tiring.

        Before they knew it, it was time for Celeste to leave the Martin residence and make an appearance at her own home, something she wasn't exactly looking forward to.

        After walking the short distance between the two households, she approached the tall, intimidating wooden door of her house, which, coincidentally, provided an accurate representation of the person inside.

        Slowly, she turned the handle and pushed her way into the interior of her home, which looked no friendlier inside than it did from outside. Her eyes glanced around carefully, her shoulder sagging in relief as she saw no one in her immediate line of sight.

        She nimbly approached the stairs, a careful foot rising to touch the first step, when a cold hand wrapped itself around her slender, fair arm.

        Her blue eyes widened at the sudden event, but that was the only indication of shock she allowed herself to show.

        Cautiously, with a quick glance to the bony hand gripping her, she turned her head to face the stern face of her mother.

        "Where exactly have you been?" the women asked with a permanent scowl, though it seemed like she already knew the answer.

        "I was at Lydia Martin's house," Celeste answered truthfully, averting her eyes to avoid the harsh glare from the older female.

        "That frivolous girl I specifically told you not to associate yourself with?" she demanded through a hiss, and Celeste winced as her perfectly manicured hand began to dig into the soft flesh of her forearm.

        Celeste felt annoyance being added to the already poisonous concoction of stress and fear brewing inside of her, and before she could stop herself, she snapped.

        "I'm not sure," she started with narrowed eyes and a venomous tone, "you give me so many ridiculous rules to follow it's hard to keep up sometimes."

        Her eyes widened dramatically as she realized her mistake, and she followed up with an uncontrollable intake of breath as her mother's already painful nails dug sharply into her skin, and she was sure the woman had drawn blood.

        Upon seeing her obvious display of pain, her mother smirked and let go of her now stinging arm.

        "Don't use that tone with me young lady," she commanded with a condescending voice, taking obvious pleasure from the way Celeste was grasping her arm.

        Seeing that her message had been received, her mother straightened the string of pearls on her frail neck, adjusted the frilly apron she was adorning over her blue smock dress, and turned around.

        Celeste visibly relaxed as the woman entered the kitchen around the corner, and climbed quickly up the staircase before her mother changed her mind and came back.

        Reaching the long, gloomy upstairs hallway, she turned left and opened the door in the very back corner of the corridor and entered her bedroom.

        She let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding in as the familiar feeling of comfort she found in her room returned.

        Her small living space contrasted the stern, too-perfect environment of the rest of her house immensely.

        Her four, buttercream frosting colored walls were covered in various quotes, album covers, and quite a few of the photographs Celeste enjoyed taking so much. The whole room smelled of apple cider.

        There was a large bookcase overflowing with books on the wall to her left, and an ornate dresser to her right with her beloved record player resting on top.

        Next to it was a wire shelf filled with various records she had collected. Directly in front of her was a twin sized bed with a cream comforter pushed back the rest against the far wall.

        She kicked off her vans and socks, wiggling her chipped-polish covered toes on the plush carpet before approaching the large mahogany dresser.

        She reached the machine on top of it, taking the needle and placing it on the record that was currently presiding in the player. The ethereal beauty smiled softly as the calming sound of Yesterday by The Beatles filled her ears.

        Relaxing into her bed, she inspected the new wound, deciding that it required no further attention, as the small amount of blood was already starting to clot.

        She found it morbidly amusing that her mother could be such a sociable and involved member of the community, then turn around and become the women who treated her own daughter the way she does.

        Then again, wasn't that just human nature?

        Everyone was always hiding something, no one was ever truly as they seemed. Deception seemed to be a trait that was programmed into the human brain.

        Normally, she found the endless differences between human beings and other creatures fascinating.

        The fact that somewhere along the way, humans were coded to feel things such as lust, love, gluttony, anger, and jealousy set them apart from other beings, who lived simply to procreate.

        Sometimes she wished that humans were that simple too.

        Deception especially was one aspect she could definitely live without. It was frustratingly rare to find someone who was truly themselves, someone who was totally genuine.

        For the second time that day, she found herself thinking about the unique boy she had met at the beach this summer.

        The main reason she had found herself so intrigued by him was how genuine he seemed. His unfiltered lips and instinctual need to be a hero resounded with her far more than any spoken words could have.

        She attempted to shake her thoughts away before closing her eyes and immersing herself in the sweet sounds of the legendary Beatles.

☾ ☽

        Celeste's long, dark hair flowed behind her as she drove her light blue, motorized bike to her first day at Beacon Hills High. She felt butterflies rapidly multiplying in her stomach as the large sign that indicated her destination came into view.

        She slowed her vehicle, turning into the busy lot.

        Pulling into a space, she parked the machine before stepping hesitantly onto the pavement.

        Taking a calming breath that in no way subsided her nerves, she slowly removed her helmet and raked a hand through her dark hair nervously.

        She set the helmet down, locking it securely to the handle of her scooter. She then proceeded to scan the area desperately for Lydia.

        Her eyes fell instead upon a familiar looking silver Porsche that was idling in a space near the front of the school. She watched as some kid with a mustard yellow bike locked up his form of transportation next to the intimidating, flashy vehicle that in many ways matched its owner.

        She rolled her eyes as the infamous Jackson Whittemore thrust open the passenger door of his car, hitting the poor kid's bike in the process. He then proceeded to yell at the brown-haired boy as if it was his fault, before striding away.

        Her eyes continued moving until they spotted Lydia standing purposefully by the grass, tapping her foot as though she was on a tight schedule and everyone around her was slowing her down, and Celeste smiled in relief before walking quickly towards her friend.

        Without so much as a greeting, the girl surveyed Celeste critically, letting out a cry of disapproval and reaching for Celeste's hair to fix the disarray of helmet hair.

        Letting out a snort of laughter at the perfectionist, she allowed a smile to be displayed on her face.

        "Good morning to you too, Lydia," she said in an amused tone, causing her friend to roll her eyes.

        "Come on loser," the strawberry blonde said, "and remember, keep your chin up and walk with confidence.

        Celeste nodded with false enthusiasm, pretending to retain Lydia's instructions. However, as she turned to face the entrance of the school, she froze completely.

        Her sudden rigidness was not due to nerves, surprisingly, it was because her line of vision had fallen upon a sight she never thought she would see again.

        It was the boy from the beach.

        Mistaking her reaction as fear, Lydia looped her arm with Celeste's and began to forcefully pull her friend towards the school.

        Her heart began to beat faster as they got closer to the boy she had been thinking about all summer.

        She noticed that he was waving his arms around in an apparently very exciting discussion he was having with a puppy-dog eyed boy she recognized as the bike rider from earlier.

        She opened her ears to their conversation curiously and as they approached she could hear his voice.

        "This is the best thing to happen to this town since the birth of-,"

        The hazel-eyed boy's words were abruptly cut off as he turned around and his gaze fell upon Celeste.

        His eyes widened in recognition and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he stared blatantly at the girl.

        She wanted to stop and greet him -she really did- but Lydia showed no sign of stopping and so she reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged along.

         The most she could do was return his twitchy, confused half-wave with a soft, apologetic smile over her shoulder as they passed.

        Celeste had the distinct feeling that this year was going to be a whole lot more interesting than her previous ones.

  ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽☾ ☽ 

Hi guys omg sorry this took me forever to post!! School started back up and I had like zero time to write which was super rude.

Anyways I know it's not great and it's moving really slowly right now, but I really hope you guys enjoy this story.

I'm really excited to continue writing, and I have so many plans for Celeste oh my god.

Ok well I'm going to eat a brownie

OK THANKS SO MUCH IF YOURE READING THIS I LOVE YOU LOADS BYEEEE

-Belle <3

* not that anyone cares, but also just know that i'll be putting songs in every chapter. they have like very distant, obscure connections to the chapters they are with I guess but mostly they're just really good songs I want to share lol ok bye