I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did Shia LaBeouf would do a cameo every episode where he just ate cereal for like ten minutes.

Song - Gasoline // Halsey

Celeste's POV

Celeste lay stiffly on her twin sized mattress, listening absentmindedly to the Cicadas singing outside her window.

She heard the click clack of her mother's heels hitting the hardwood floor as she passed her room, her unblinking eyes staring at her standard off-white ceiling apathetically.

The glitchy streetlight across the way that blinked on and off sporadically acted as her only source of light.

She rubbed her eyes furiously, as if the action would somehow wipe her mind clean of the day's events, and fluorescent colors exploded behind her eyelids. The obscure shapes they made were more sensible than her current life situation.

It wasn't even the werewolves that she had a problem with. In fact, she thought that it was the best thing to have happened in her life since the invention of Olive Garden. Better, even, and unlimited breadsticks is no laughing matter.

The idea that something considered widely to be nothing more than a myth, a story woven out of the cloth of boredom and idle minds, was actually true made Celeste's hopes soar. She had suddenly been thrust into a reality where impossibilities became possible, and possibilities became substantial, and it offered the girl the opportunity to do something more with her life.

It was Derek Hale that she couldn't wrap her head around. How could she have been so wrong about a person? Celeste had always been a good sense of character, and she had felt for Derek. She had him pegged as a good man who had been through an unspeakable tragedy.

However, the corpse buried on his property seemed to prove otherwise. She couldn't get those lifeless eyes out of her head, they bore into her mind and engraved themselves in her thoughts.

Sure, she had seen every episode of Dexter and she figured she was as desensitized as every other teenager in their generation, but nothing could have prepared her for the real thing.

Tap.

Celeste jumped as her musings were interrupted and sat up alertly, her head whipping around vividly.

Tap.

A second noise resounded, and Celeste was able to pinpoint the source to her window.

Cautiously, she padded over, grabbing her worn copy of The Bell Jar for a meager means of protection.

She creaked open her window slowly with a pounding heart, her mind immediately jumping to the witches from Roald Dahl's book for some reason.

"OW," she cried, pulling back from the opening and holding a hand to her forehead, where a small pebble had so rudely attacked her moments ago.

"Shit," she heard a familiar voice cry from her back garden, "sorry. I didn't think you'd open your window so quickly."

"Stiles, what the hell?" Celeste asked in annoyance, but her heart sped up at the prospect of a boy throwing rocks at her window.

"I uh," Stiles rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I wanted to see you. Make sure you were okay."

"Oh," Celeste flushed cherry red, "well thanks, I guess."

"So are you?" Stiles questioned, peering up at her from his position next to her white rose bushes, "Okay, I mean."

Celeste only shrugged halfheartedly, clamoring out her window with a blanket wrapped around her to sit cautiously on the small cove of roof where she usually came to read. Her bare feet scraped uncomfortably against the rough shingles, but she took no notice as she fixed her eyesight pointedly on the glowing moon above.

"Oh," Stiles mumbled, clearly at a loss for words.

He turned his gaze to focus on the massive oak tree that grew with twisted knots and immense roots that traveled far, and his eyes brightened as he realized its growth reached the place Celeste was currently sitting.

"How much you bet I could climb that tree?" Stiles inquired with a mischievous look.

"Stiles," Celeste addressed him through a snort, "I will bake you two entire cakes if you can climb that tree."

"Well then," Stiles grinned up at her, "it's settled. You better buy a ton of flour, or whatever it is you bake with."

"Oh my god," Celeste muttered under her breath whenStiles tripped over a tree root as he approached the tree.

It took at least twenty minutes, a lot of questionable grunting, and falling exactly eight times, but Stiles made it up the tree. He collapsed next to an impressed looking Celeste in a panting fit.

"Well I'll be damned, Spiderman," Celeste laughed out as Stiles wheezed proudly, "I guess I owe you two cakes."

"I am so awesome," Stiles fist pumped, still breathing heavily, "but I'm not Spiderman. I'm Batman."

"Don't be that one tiny sour grape on the vine, Stiles," Celeste sniffed, "I'm Batman. Obviously."

"Well I guess there's no arguing with that kind of logic," Stiles said with a playful smile, "doesn't change the fact that I am about to binge eat two entire cakes while watching Star Trek reruns though."

"So what kind of cakes do you want?" Celeste inquired, adjusting herself to face Stiles, "Red velvet, obviously, Mr. Cupcake Thief, and what else? I kind of have you pegged for an angel food cake kind of guy."

"What?" Stiles looked at her with widened amber eyes, "how could you possibly know that?"

"I'm just good at reading people," Celeste boasted playfully before the corners of her lips tugged downwards, "or at least, I thought I was."

"Woah, don't do that to yourself," Stiles frowned, "there's no way you could have known who Derek really was."

"You're the most delectable crab cake on the tray," Celeste smiled sadly, "but I should have known. I let that man give me a ride home, Stiles."

"Sorry, what?" Stiles scooted closer to her in interest, "When did this happen?"

Celeste felt her heart rate increase slightly at the proximity, and it felt as though a thousand butterflies were flapping their wings in her stomach and releasing jittery winds of nerves throughout her being.

"You look like a pixie," she blurted, her face turning red in embarrassment.

"Huh?" Stiles blinked, "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing!" Celeste word vomited, mentally throwing herself into a bottomless abyss of self-deprecation, "I don't know. Just the slope of your nose is sprightly, and your lips are pulled into this kind of impish smile. Don't listen to me. I'm human garbage."

Celeste knew she was babbling, but she had never been so physically close to a guy before, especially not at night. On a roof. Above a flower garden. With stars twinkling wisely above them.

"What like," Stiles felt around his face self-consciously, "I have feminine features?"

"No," Celeste rambled, "you look like a woodland creature. Very aesthetic."

"Oh," Stiles perked up again, "a woodland creature? That's cool, right?"

"How should I know what's cool?" Celeste attempted to move past her outburst clumsily, "I'm just a simple bean."

Stiles snorted, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence.

"You have mermaid hair," Stiles said suddenly, "It kind of curls out in pretty tendrils, like its constantly dipped in salt water. But it's still shiny."

Celeste's breath caught in her throat and she looked at Stiles in surprise, who was wringing his hands together nervously.

"And your eyes remind me of the ocean," he continued, "only they look like an ocean whose water hasn't been tainted by humanity. Crystal clear waters you know? They don't look serene though. Like a hurricane is going on inside the ocean but the turmoil is only internal."

Celeste was rendered speechless as Stiles looked at her shyly.

"And your lips look like the budding petals of a rose. Like it's not completely open, so you'll never be able to predict what's going to come out but you know its going to be beautiful."

Celeste couldn't bring herself to say anything, fearing she would taint the beauty of the words that spilled out of Stiles' mouth like they had been on the tip of his tongue for ages.

She was saved from his expecting eyes, the ones the color of amber that she knew she could get stuck in forever if she just let herself, by the creak of her mother pushing open Celeste's door.

Celeste's face turned ashen at the thought of what the consequences would be if her mother discovered her sitting with a boy on her roof at night.

"Zoinks!" She panicked and, without thinking, she shoved Stiles off her roof.

"Oh god!" Celeste looked below at a flailing Stiles hanging on to the side of her roof by his hands, "I'm so so sorry!"

"Celeste?" her mother poked her head out of the window before she could apologize further, "Who are you speaking to?"

"No one mom," Celeste falsely smiles, all too aware of the teenage boy clinging to the side of her roof for dear life, "just myself."

"What did I do to get stuck with such a disappointment?" the older woman pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, "Get back inside. Get some sleep, Lord knows you need the beauty rest."

"Yes mom," Celeste smiled, ignoring the way her heart sunk at her mother's disapproval.

She waited until her mother had left the room and shut the door behind her before whipping back around to a still struggling Stiles.

"Jeepers Stiles," Celeste gushed as she pulled him back up, "I am ridiculously sorry. I just panicked."

"No I get it," Stiles quipped, clutching his heart dramatically, "It's not like my life just flashed before my eyes or anything. You know I've never even had a dog? I should get a dog."

"I'll bake you cupcakes too," Celeste promised guiltily, "or lemon squares. Or both."

Stiles perked up at that.

"You are forgiven," he said, his smile revealing that he had never really been angry with her in the first place.

Celeste let out a breath she hadn't know she was holding, relieved that she hadn't lost one of her few friends.

"Your mother," Stiles frowned suddenly, "does she always talk to you like that?"

"What?" Celeste shied away from the topic, "No. She was just joking. That's my mom. Always the jester. Hah."

"Okay," the corners of Stiles' pink lips were still turned downwards, "I hope you know I'll be using this to force you to bake for me for the rest of your life."

"You mean the rest of your life," Celeste corrected, "you're going to die before me, obviously."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Science, Stiles."

☾ ☽

Celeste frowned from her position next to Scott in the trees of the dying forestry outside the Hale estate, clutching her Marina and the Diamonds hoodie close to her body as the cool winds bit smartly at her rosy cheeks and the tip of her nose. It was almost as if the autumn air was reprimanding them for what they were doing.

She straightened her posture as Derek was brought out of the decrepit house, his hands bound behind him in cuffs that she knew would never be able to hold him if he didn't want them to.

He was glowering at everyone grumpily, but as he made eye contact with Celeste his eyes lit up in surprise.

She looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze, hoping to find some malice in his aura so she could stop the feeling of guilt gnawing at her very core, but she found none.

Celeste couldn't stop herself from darting forward, ignoring Scott's harshly whispered demand for her to stop. She raced forward to the cop car that Derek had just been shoved into.

Quietly sliding in to the front seat, she shut the door and spun around. Derek let out a growl at someone entering the vehicle, but it died in his throat at the sight of Celeste.

"Tell me you didn't kill her," Celeste pleaded with desperate eyes, "tell me there's another werewolf wandering around cutting people in half. Please Derek."

"How the hell do you know about werewolves?" Derek's eyes flashed blue, "I'm going to kill Scott."

"I figured it out on my own," Celeste brushed him off, "but that's really not the point. Tell me you didn't kill that girl."

His mossy eyes softened as he found nothing but sincerity and pleading from the girl sitting on the opposite side of the bars from him.

"I didn't kill her," he assured, causing Celeste to breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Okay," she nodded, mostly to herself, "okay, then I'm going to do everything I can to get you out of here."

She took a deep, steadying breath and pushed the door of the car open, only to hit a suspicious looking Stiles.

"Celeste," he recognized her, "what are you doing in here?"

"Arranging a schedule for the tap classes Derek is giving me," she replied easily, knowing Stiles wouldn't share in her trusts or intentions, "what else would I be doing?"

Stiles opened and closed his mouth at the girl as she pushed past him gently, not looking back.

Celeste knew that if she was going to free Derek, she would have to do it alone, and quietly.

She shoved her hands into the warmth of her hoodie's pocket, bracing herself against the cold, and just about everything else, as she wondered how the hell she was going to pull this off.

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Stiles: professes beautiful poetic similes to Celeste

Celeste: shoves Stiles off of a roof

IMPORTANT QUESTION!!! Do you guys like shorter, more frequent updates like this one and the last chapter or longer, more sparse updates like before?

If no one answers I am just going to wing it.

How is everybody doing? If you need to rant I am always here.

I know the level of infatuation Stiles shows towards Celeste may seem premature, but remember he's been dreaming about her since the beach.

Anyways I literally am going to go make lemon squares, have a wonderful day/night/life my sweet lil jellybeans!!

Stay hydrated,

-Belle xx