♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 forty-one

what's your motive?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

WARNING: ADULT AND EXPLICIT CONTENT TOWARDS END OF CHAPTER.

SCOTT MCCALL stood in his front doorway, eyebrows furrowed and one arm dropped to the side. The pearly smile of Dallas Garcia shone back as Malia Tate stood awkwardly behind her.

"This is your help?" Malia spoke, evidently underwhelmed. Dallas shot her a look before turning back to Scott.

The girl plastered a wide smile on her lips and tilted her head to the side. "You know cause I'm like, your most prestigious pack member?-"

"Yeah, in your head." He shot back which Malia openly laughed at.

"Anyway," she continued before sending them both glares. "I need your help." she watched as Malia suddenly shoved past them both and walked into the McCall's house. Whether it was due to boredom, the cold, or pure curiosity, the boy had no choice but to step aside.

Dallas pulled him aside while he widened his eyes. "Why the hell is Malia Tate with you?"

Malia picked up the magazines that sat on his countertop from Melissa and flickered through them, almost dropping a few. "Cause she was almost arrested for theft at Bailey's."

Scott huffed silently. If what Dallas thought was true, which was usually the case, he was a total white knight. Always helping those in need. Especially when it came to the supernatural. "Why come to me and not Derek?" he flickered his eyes back to her.

"I like you better?"

He gave her a doubtful look.

"Okay, he's not answering my calls." she rolled her eyes. "She's a were-coyote, Scott. I'm not a were-anything! I have no idea what you guys do." Dallas hissed. "Aw, man. I'm too young for were-kids."

Scott shook his head in dismay and eventually gave in. "Fine, fine," he mumbled. "I'll help."

Dallas grinned widely before loud crashing caught both of their attention. Stood beside a mount of smashed plates stood Malia Tate. When she glanced up at their wide-eyed expression, she shrugged. "There was a bug."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Derek Hale sat before Marilyn Garcia, who had James sat beside her. Behind the werewolf, however, stood Peter Hale with an icepack directed on his jaw.

"It's been seven years. Why now?" he tried to collect his composure, but the werewolf was as visibly hurt as the rest of her 'family' that she led them all to believe she was dead. Derek shared a look with James who avoided all eye contact with the Siren.

"Kate's gone. Chris is gone. Hell, somehow you managed to rid Beacon of Gerard." the woman began. "Why would I stay away?"

"Been gone a couple of months now. Little late on that one Mare-Bare." Peter commented coldly.

"I will hurt you." she hissed to Peter who rolled his eyes. "What I'd like to know is why the hell you laid a finger on my daughter." Marilyn stood up and stalked towards him.

"Oh, I'm never gonna live that one down." Peter scoffed. "I did her a favour. I needed a siren on my side but the only one I knew decided to pull a disappearing act. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Not only did you tear out my kid's throat, you bit a hole into Melissa's!"

"So maybe I have a flair for the dramatic."

Derek ran a hand over his face. "Hey, Scott isn't a problem." he called out to the Siren. "And.. we're dealing with Dallas." he glanced up at Marilyn.

"Correction, I am dealing with Dallas." James spoke up. "I am literally the only person here qualified by the law to do so. So, as thrilling as this conversation was, I'm gonna go do that." he stood up but Derek caught his attention.

"No." he glanced up. "Nobody is leaving until we figure this out. The last Beacon Hills heard, you were dead." Derek nodded to Marilyn. "People find out you're alive, you're gonna have a target on your back. Beacon Hills isn't as you left it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Scott has a pack now. He's the Alpha. Not just with werewolves either."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Scott McCall stood in front of Malia Tate as he taught her how to control her claws. A few bumps here and there, but the girl caught the hang of it. A proud smile stretched across her face as she beamed at Dallas. The two had become quite unlikeliest of friends. An unspoken understanding had bloomed between the girls. Dallas didn't quite understand it. What she did understand, though, was that while still being a were-whatever - she wasn't like the rest of the pack. She wasn't a human with insatiable curiosity, a do-no-wrong puppy-dog werewolf, a retired diva turned banshee or even an ancient kitsune that warded off all evil and social popularity.

No. She wasn't set up to be good like those. Malia was a coyote for most of her life - which included taking lives. Human lives.

Guilt settled in the stomach of the siren. Even so, what was her excuse?

"I think it's sweet you're helping her, you know." She felt Scott nudge at her arm. "Especially with everything going on."

Dallas furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Your mom." Scott winced. "You don't have to talk about it, but I am here for you. I know how heavy it was when my dad came back. Can't be angry forever though, right?" he gave her a simplistic smile.

Dallas, on the other hand, looked visibly enraged. "How do you even know about that?"

"Well, Stiles-"

"Of course he did. Wow." she snapped.

" - He told me that you might be a little fragile at the moment, you know, go easy on you. That's it- "

Dallas paced back and forth with her arms crossed. "Hey, I am not fragile, McCall. I can tear a man apart in less than three minutes. Devour him in two. Fragile is not in my vocabulary."

"It's Stiles, he's just tryna look out for you."

"I can assure you that I am perfectly fine. I definitely don't need some guy telling me what I'm feeling, I get that enough from my dad." she huffed. "And Derek. And Peter. And Deaton. And now, Stiles too. For a girl whose main appetite consists of men, the ones in this stupid town sure have a lot of nerve."

Scott was used to seeing Dallas blow up with anger. She was never really good at controlling it. One of her many outburst, which occasionally happened with teachers and authority figures, landed her in detention or an outright suspension.

This wasn't like that. This was Dallas crumbling under the number of emotions she kept bottled up.

I don't need some guy telling me what I'm feeling.

Scott decided it was best for him to just stay silent about that one.

Picking up her coat from the couch, Dallas brushed it over her shoulders and headed for the door. She almost made it out before she felt someone tug at her hand. Behind her, Malia had her eyebrows furrowed. "Where are you going?"

"To kill a man." she connected her eyes with Scott as her look turned bitter. "Trust me, Mal, he knows what he's doing way more than I do."

"You're gonna come back though, right?" Malia's eyes lingered on her face.

Dallas pretended to think for a moment. "It's a small town. I'd run into you whether I wanted to or not." she joked.

Malia shot her an offended look which Dallie snickered at. "That's a joke. Might have to work on your humour a bit." she gently jabbed Malia in the shoulder before turning away. "Try not to eat Scott, by the way. Kira would have my head."

She stepped outside into the cold air and once it hit her face, the girl's expression immediately faltered. She hoped that pouring her attention onto something else would distract her enough. Which it did, for a while.

So why didn't she feel any better?

And more importantly, why the hell did Stiles Stilinski think she was fragile?

From a very young age, the Garcia could push away the feelings she didn't want. Sure, sooner or later she'd end up exploding like a badly done middle-school science project, but that was only at her wit's end.

Dallas was not upset about her mother. A state of being upset was an emotion that came from caring - and Dallas didn't care. She lived in the blissfulness of avoidance and ignorance of the woman and would continue to do so whether she had returned to Beacon hills or not.

Marilyn Garcia made her feelings towards Dallas very clear when she left. She wasn't important enough for her to stay. She was a second choice.

And that was fine. Now she removed herself from being a choice completely.

Dallas walked down the muddy streets of her town and kicked the odd stone with her shoe. Missed calls from an abundance of people rang in her pocket. A few from her dad - and Derek, oddly enough. None of them pressing on her mind enough for her to respond.

She reached the Stilinski home and pulled her hood down from her head. With a scowl on her face and her fists clenched, she brushed her fingers against the pale wood of the door.

Dallas heard the faint crash from behind the door and incoherent cursing, but when the door creaked open, the grinning face of Stiles Stilinski stared back. "Oh, hey." the boy lay eyes on her. Her hair was slightly curled from the rain and a heavy hood was pulled atop. He noticed how her brown eyes were narrowed and breathing harsh. She was mad.

"Jeez, it's really coming down out there," he mumbled out awkwardly, Dallas pushed past him and made her way up this room, her steps thunderous. He followed behind her with his hand scratching the back of his neck. "Woah, what's up?"

Dallas slammed the door of his bedroom behind him and gave him a look cold enough to kill. She composed her anger long enough for her breathing to settle.

Noticing her attitude, the boy pulled at her arm but winced at her temperature. "Holy shit, you're freezing. You know, I have a theory that temperature doesn't bother sirens-" he turned to pick up an old notebook, "You know cause you swim in like - extreme degree water? You never seem to bother about it. I'm surprised you're not sick already-"

Dallas snatched her arm away from his grasp. "Why the hell did you tell Scott about my mom?"

There it was. That's why she was mad.

Stiles immediately avoided her eyes. Damn it. Of course, Scott told her. Truth be told, he just wanted to look out for her. She was good at pretending like things didn't bother her but he'd rather his best friend know what not to say and be a helping hand rather than sit completely unaware.

He eventually gave in and drooped his shoulders. "I didn't mean to. I just told him to go easy on you and he started asking all these questions about why. You know I'm a terrible liar." he sighed heavily. "I made sure he wouldn't say anything though. Not until you're okay with it."

"What, cause I'm fragile?"

Fuck sake, Scott.

Stiles winced. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean? Go on, Stilinski, I dare you." Dallas stepped forward. She was being bitter and mean again - just like she was to her mother hours prior. She couldn't help it. The words just poured out of her mouth. Hard to handle was a phrase often thrown around when referring to her, but now she only realised the density of it.

"I know you're upset about your mom. I know you can't handle it alone. I told Scott because you trust him and I told him because I knew for sure that you wouldn't. Tomorrow, you were gonna sit at lunch and let it eat at you all day but never say anything." Stiles snapped. "I know you better than yourself and that's the truth." he spoke in a confident tone. Dallas was good at walking all over everyone - it made him tilt his head to one side. But he wasn't just everyone anymore.

Dallas let out a harsh laugh. "You're such a smartass, aren't you?"

Stiles ran his tongue over his teeth and shook his head in dismay. "So what if I am?" he scoffed "A nice change from you being one."

Taken aback, the siren raised her eyebrows. "I don't need to listen to this-"

With a discontented look on her face, Dallas shoved past him and headed straight for the door. The girl was unaware where the streak of honesty came from. Whether she liked it or not, people always seemed to be gentle with her. Not usually because they thought she'd break - but more afraid that she'd break them.

A hard tug pulled at her wrist and next thing she knew, Stiles pressed his lips against hers own. Dallas clutched at his flannel and poured all her frustration into his kiss. Pressing her against his rough mattress, his hand caressed down against her jaw and the other ran towards her hand to pin down her wrist.

The kiss was one way too harsh for it to stop there. She clawed his shirt from his back and threw it aside, her hands eventually finding their way into's the boy's hair and tugging hard at it.

Clustered groans left his mouth while his kisses projected down on her neck instead while pressing his body against hers. Stiles' hands dropped from her jaw instead roamed down the side of her body and her outer thigh before tearing her shirt up across her stomach and over her shoulders in one swift motion. With steady unbuckling and laboured breathing entering her ears, Dallas bit back moans as she felt his hands run underneath her skirt and tear at the fabric underneath.

Waves of electricity and heat spread through her veins as her fingers clung to the headboard behind her. With his lips pressing firmly against hers and tugging at her lower one with his teeth, Dallie's legs folded around his waist. Her head fell back against her pillow while euphoric moans escaped her glossy lips.

"What's my name?"

Her eyes fluttered shut and her body melted deeper into the mattress from the boy above her. A rough jolt caused her eyes to snap open - now a bright pearl white that held predatory and passion glinting from underneath her eyelashes as she gasped.

"I said, what's my name?"

Her now sharp nails carved at the skin on his back and left deep, long scratch-marks up his spine. She positioned her lips against his ear, teeth poking from underneath her lips. "Stiles." she spoke in a hushed tone, one that ended with a deep whimper.

Stiles clutched her jaw and pulled at her lower lip with his thumb. "You know what I want."

She felt the pressure between her hips intensify and let out a stretched moan. "Stiles." his name rolled off her tongue again, much louder this time. The clamorous creaking of the loose bed screws and bolts almost drowned her voice out, but he could still hear it. Incoherent cursing erupted from underneath his breath as his hand squeezed at the frame as his hips rolled with the heavy swaying of the bed. "Stiles, please." Dallas whimpered out.

His warm lips curled into a smirk against her skin. Only he could make her beg. He had an effect on her that nobody else had.

The boy took both her wrists with one hand and held them over her head before deepening and roughing his pace inside her. Eyes gleamed white with ecstasy, Dallas pulled at his shoulders and pushed her underneath him. The Siren blew the long hair over her shoulders before pushing her hips against his.

Stiles tried to reach up and press his lips against her jawline but she shoved his shoulders back down to his slouched position. "You're not the only one who can take control," she murmured beside his ear, dragging her sharp teeth against his neck before leaving a trail of scratch marks and hickeys in her path.

Her voice became something of translucent choruses and captured him in her trance. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and her head tilted back with her paced movements while she felt his hand slide up her chest and wrap around her throat. "Come on," she stared down at him with a wicked glint as her skirt lay over her thighs. "Not gonna beg?"

Sure, Stiles could make her beg, but it was nothing compared to what she could get from him. "What? Do I make you shy?" she traced her finger across his collarbones and grew closer. "Beg."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that, but fuck, that's hot." he mumbled as she ran her hand through his hair. "Fine, I give in. Dallas, you win." he melted underneath her touch. "Just-"

That was what made Dallas grin and dig her nails harder into his shoulder as she rode out her high. Their voices became synchronised and Dallie's vision blurred slightly. She felt his hand wrapping around the ends of her hair and tugging it back harshly as she moaned out.

Stiles' cursing grew louder and his grip on her tightened as both of them reached their climax. Whereas Dallas rose her hands to glide up against her neck as her eyebrows creased softly and her mouth parted before a much louder, glass-shattering moan left her mouth.

Finally, her head dropped onto his shoulder and glanced up at Stiles who dropped his forehead against hers with heavy panting. Her eyes faded back to their honey-toned brown before he delved onto her lips once more, earning a hum from her in response and not giving a care in the world to anything or anyone else. 

☆ word count: 3,040. ☆

a/n: its not super smutty but im awkward and I've never written smut before. so im gonna post this and run away an pretend like this never happened