♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 seventy-nine

r u mine?

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

WARNING: ADULT AND EXPLICIT CONTENT TOWARDS END OF CHAPTER.

MARILYN GARCIA WAS NOT A MODEL CITIZEN.

She was no more of a model mother than she was a model wife. She was a model killer, though. She was a model of bad habits, of worse behaviour, of a life full of self-absorbing mayhem. She was a black-and-white print of primal instinct.

Behind the braids in her hair, her mind's words were a viper's nest of venom. "Dallas refuses to hear me out. James can do no wrong in her eyes." Her eyes remained still, water cascading up and over her shoulders between her hands. "But it seems that's all I ever do."

Sybil didn't want to comfort her. A predator didn't need comfort. It was because of her they left Beacon Hills. Because of her, Dallas Garcia would never look at her aunts with anything but uncertainty.

Seline crouched beside her sister, offering a helping hand to soothe the scales on her shoulder with palmed warmth. "Explain to him that you made a mistake, Marilyn. You're Dallie's mother. He wouldn't hurt you."

Marilyn doubted it. She doubted most things these days. Her face was not easily welcomed. Her crimes were not as easily forgotten. Yet, a part of her still loved James, a twisted part of her that would swallow his heart just so she could keep it. 

Perhaps he still felt the same. 

"I think he would."

⊱──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ──────⊰

Dallas Garcia fiddled with the rings on her fingers. None of them had been enchanted with spells -- or cursed with them -- but albeit a simple circle of plated gold slipped around her knuckles.

The teenager didn't depend on jewellery for vanity and prestige. They made her punches hit a little harder. They protected her knuckles from shattering against thick bone. Everything Dallas did was for the main instinct of survival. 

That being said, leaning against the wall of the gas station and watching two teenage boys do all the work was for inertia. Not survival.

One braid fell over her shoulder and the other dropped in front of her chest as she cocked her head to the side. Blue buttoned shorts tightened around her waist, scratching against the brickwork behind her, while her eyes narrowed beneath red-rimmed sunglasses. 

"It's locked." 

Stiles shook the door of the empty station, tutting between his lips and flattening out his shoulders in disappointment. However, it wasn't very long until Scott pulled the chains from around a gas canister.  Perplexed, the Stilinski boy slid a twenty-dollar bill through the door hinges and winced. 

"I think the Jeep needs a little more than gas, don't you think?" She spoke up, watching as both Stiles and Scott filled the red container from the gas pump. "A scrapyard, maybe?"

Stiles caught her gaze and spoke in a scolding tone. "Hey, don't diss the Jeep. You love the Jeep."

"Love's a strong word." She yelled back out before leaning her head against the wall and sitting tiredly on the floor. "Hurry up with it before I melt."

Scott simply raised his eyebrows at her, grinning at the two, before shaking the liquid around in the container. No matter how much they went through - or how much they fought - Stiles and Dallas would always have each other to fall back on.

Meanwhile, Stiles spared a second glance at his face with suppressed guilt. A lot was on his mind recently. Void. Dallie. Theo. The Dread Doctors.

The Wendigo. 

"It was my fault." Stiles caught his best friend's eye. "Donovan. Dallas killed him -- but it was my fault."

Scott adjusted his stance while connecting his eyebrows through a string of confusion. "I was climbing the scaffolding in the library. He was trying to pull me down."

"He was trying to kill you."

"She just wanted to help, Scott. I'm the reason he's dead. I brought Dallie there. I'm the reason he attacked her. It's my fault, man."

Scott furrowed his eyebrows. "Why did you think you couldn't tell me?"

Stiles shook his head. "I didn't want someone I love blamed for protecting me. I thought I had broken your sacred rule and that was it, there was no going back."

"I know the difference." 

"What?" 

"I know what self-defence is." Scott smiled gently. "You're my brother. I'll always have your back. No matter what."

"And Dallie?"

Scott glanced over his shoulder and sarcastically winced. "I know whatever she does, it's always to protect you. I've never doubted that." He paused. "Truth be told, Stiles, you're secretly making her soft." 

 Dallie's voice echoed throughout the empty gas station around them. "He is not."

Stiles bared a smile before nodding along and helping the Alpha lift the container. A weight had been lifted from his chest - albeit, a bite was still etched in his shoulder. 

"I think it's sweet." Stiles turned to face her, eyes as wide as his smile. "Hey, I don't mind being the intimidating one."

Dallas suppressed her smile and heard Scott's voice from beside her. He was laughing along with her, ganging up on Stiles somewhat too. 

Stiles appreciated the moments they got along. Just not when it came at his expense. 

"Is that the reason for the busted lip?" Scott turned to Stiles' grazed features, curiosity lingering on his own.

The teenager shook her head in dismay once more. "Surprisingly, you should see Theo's face. He came out on the better-looking end." 

 Stiles chuckled gruffly before sparing her a glance. "Surprisingly? You always thank your heroes like that?"

Scott blinked between them. "Wait, what happened with Theo?"

Dallas cocked a brow. The last time she checked, it was Scott's name being thrown around. Not hers. How was he her hero because of it?

Scott stood still without an answer. "Okay, I'll just wait for you guys to finish."

Meanwhile, Dallas felt it dawn on her. Scott was a codename from the get-go. All the fighting. The spews about 'wanting to talk' wasn't about the rivalry between the two packs. It was about the rivalry between them. 

Stiles Stilinski was.. protective. Dallas had her name etched into headstones more times than she could count recently - and she knew each time made him more persistent on protecting her. Dallas would let him nowadays. She could fight her own battles and patch up her own scars, but if Stiles Stilinski holding the bandaids for her made him feel better, she didn't mind it.

If he was hurting himself for her, that's where she'd begin to mind.

Her mouth formed a scoff. "Is that why you punched Theo?" 

"You punched Theo?" Scott interjected them.

Stiles avoided both of their looks. "Heh," he scratched the back of his neck. "We should head back to the jeep."

Dallas and Scott shared a look. "Stiles!"

⊱──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ──────⊰

Derek Hale swallowed thickly. His eyes remained forward and his chest brittle with his breaths. James had been gone for many hours. So many, that Derek had begun questioning if it was him that drove him away. 

His hands rubbed together and his head bowed between two sore shoulders. There had never been such a rift in the Garcia family as there had been nowadays. Split into three, Klaus and Elijah, Dallas and James, and Marilyn and her sisters. Vengeance and anger and anguish soaked up the memorabilia until there were no more scales left to be shed.

There was no room for werewolves anymore. There was no room for anyone else. Loving a Garcia wasn't for the weak.

"Is he here?" 

Derek lifted his gaze. Marilyn crossed her arms in the doorway, eyes struck his figure, before narrowing it at his puddled face. "If you mean James, I hate to disappoint."

Marie furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm sure you do." Her hands brushed the dust from the coffee tables and metal railings. "Did he say anything to you before he left? Any idea where he was going or what he was planning on doing?"

Derek scoffed. "No, he didn't say a thing. Not that I'd tell you if he did."

Marilyn felt her knuckles tighten but breathed a soothing breath. There was always a piece in their jigsaw that didn't belong. Something that felt forced. Disrupting the puzzle until the finished product looked disfigured and distorted. She hadn't considered it to be Derek Hale until now. 

"He's my husband. If you know something, you need to tell me, Derek."

"He was your husband, Marilyn."

The tension between the two was thick and heavy, making the already hot and humid summer air feel even more suffocating. The two were locked in a stare-down, neither willing to back down or look away first. The hostility that radiated off of Marilyn was palpable, and Derek could feel her eyes piercing into him like freshly sharpened blades.

He didn't regret what he had said. It was an ugly truth. Another harsh reality hidden underneath taped mirrors and dusty bedsheets.

Dallie's mother stepped closer to him. Her eyebrows slanted into a furious frown and lips parted in a sharp breath. 

"That's between me and him." Her snarl brought goosebumps across his arms but his blank stare never faltered. "So why are you so insistent on forcing yourself into my family affairs?"

"Maybe it's not me who's forcing their way in." 

Marilyn felt the words disappear on her tongue as Derek spoke calmly. 

"Marie, I always supported you. I always thought life handed you the wrong cards time and time again." His breath fanned her face. "But now I'm starting to believe that you just can't admit when you've lost." 

The Siren rose her hand, nails extended. They shimmered beneath the light of the loft and were tinted with a yellow hue from years of covering bloodied cuticles with nail polish. Before they could bury into Derek's skin, though, a hand held her wrist in place.

James Garcia stood behind her. His gaze was disappointed. Eyes plagued with a black hue that leaked into the veins beneath them. Staring at Derek momentarily, he pulled Marilyn to the side until he stood firmly between them.

He didn't speak a word. Not for a while. Since being bitten, he began seeing things in a new light. People in a whole new form. Hunted by his senses, the people around him became a lot easier to decipher.

His eyes stretched between them. "I'm not property you can sink your claws into, Marilyn." James stood still. Tall. Radiating a look of rebuke. "And Derek isn't to blame for your mistakes." 

Marilyn had never heard such a stern tone leave his lips before. It was unsettling. It made her clench her hands and feel the glass pill shake beneath her palms.

 "You can't destroy the things I love because you're no longer one of them." 

Derek flickered his eyes to James as his stare stilled. Marilyn glanced between them. Her chest heaved. Her tongue fell dry. There was a red shimmer in her eyes and a toughness in her tone. 

"And he is?" Marie whispered, voice accusing.

The Garcia stared at the floor but didn't deny it. That was something he wouldn't apologise for. He'd spend his days accepting the faults of his marriage even if they weren't his own. He'd gladly take the blame for being the better parent. He'd take the punches so long as they didn't hit those he cared for. But he wouldn't speak a lie.

Marilyn waited patiently until his eyes met hers once more. "You know what I find interesting?" She paused. "Dallas has always been dressed up as the protector between the both of you. The bad one. The cunning daughter with a sharp tongue and bad temper. For years I watched people view you as the meek man who could barely handle her." 

James quirked a brow, wondering why any of that was relevant. 

"I love her like that. Truly. It makes her much harder to kill." she tasted the words on her lips as they came out bitter, circling him. "But Dallas isn't the firecracker between the two of you. You are. You're a monster, James, and this vampirism will show you as exactly that." 

His jaw stiffened. His eyes, disks of fallen grey ash, narrowed beneath brown threaded eyebrows. There was a tightening of skin beneath his cufflinks. An echoing twist of leather-bound by two hands that gripped it as if it were a lifeline. Temper. 

James forced a swallow and allowed his shoulders to de-tense. 

"Finally, something we can agree on." He smiled. Toothy and shadowed by the obsidian veins that framed his face. 

"Because if I see you - or your sisters - anywhere near me or my daughter ever again, you'll be eating dirt instead of men."

Marilyn felt a lump form in her throat and grew quiet. From the thunder in his voice to the lightning sparking up his eyes and the clouds of grey streaking through his brown hair, the Siren realised she had married into a storm itself. 

The glass pill slipped back into her sleeves while her hands allowed themselves to sway silently beside her legs. 

James pressed lips together and threw his head back until his adam's apple poked out from his throat. "And to answer your question, Marilyn, I do have something in mind for my next moves on the board."

"And I know exactly where to put them."

⊱──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ──────⊰

Stiles Stilinski gripped the steering wheel, shadows of the cloudy sky pouring in through the Jeep windows and hidden moon offering little light across his tired features. 

Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket. So heavy, in fact, it drifted Scott McCall and Dallas Garcia into a heavy slumber. 

Scott would remain still. Death-like. Slurring words in his sleep about lacrosse and bad grades. Sometimes he'd toss his head into a bad position and groan at the aches that formed in his neck. 

Dallas was slightly different. Stiles knew she was a light sleeper already. Yet, the girl continuously ran her hand up her arms and found herself itching at her shoulders. Her eyebrows were constantly furrowed and coat constantly adjusted around her as if her body wouldn't cushion into the seats the way it was supposed to.

Stiles took a glance at them both. Usually, they'd never be within the same vicinity and be so silent. 

He blinked profusely to sweep his own tiredness away. When he was sure the darkened haze would cloud his eyes, the Stilinski widened them as flashes of white illuminated the dark sky above instead.

His hand pushed against Scott's arms shakily. "Hey, Scott." The boy flickered his eyes between his best friend and the road. "Scott!"

the werewolf arose groggily. The collar of his button-up shirt creased and the ends of his hair ruffled with dry gel and shampoo. Stiles didn't give him a chance to speak unless they were groans and grunts of tiredness. "Take a look at this."

The Jeep approached desolate land. They drove a path littered with cacti and dry mountains. One mountain stood taller than the rest though, its peak hidden beneath the clouds as they howled with cracks of thunder and lightning. 

 They seemed to be alive, guarded by an unseen force that wreaked havoc in the skies above. 

Scott found his eyes glued forward while his hand slithered to the back seats to wake Dallas. She wasn't as easy to convince. Shrugging his hand off, the teenager tutted her lips together and murmured sleepily. "No."

Her hand flopped back around herself to scratch at her shoulders. It was until Scott shook her arm once more did Dallas sat up to bark a complaint. "Scott, this better be impor-"

Her words jumbled up in her mouth. She wasn't sure what order she would've spat them out in. Just that somehow, they weren't intended to hang heavy on her tongue.

Yet, with eyes stricken and breath hitched, it seemed that's all they could do. If her heart could beat correctly, it'd thump a million times quicker than it should've.

 Storms weren't Dallie's forte, funnily enough. It was the only thing in her life that seemed stronger than her. It made her say things without thought. Do things without care of consequence. Her eyebrows furrowed with a knot of insecurity. It'd dig a hole in the pit of her stomach and swallow everything in her path until it made her sick. 

Noticing her stiff silence, Stiles grabbed the top of her knee with his hand squeezing it hard enough to send shivers down her thigh.

He didn't say anything, simply tracing planetary outlines onto her skin while allowing her to cling to his fingers. 

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her own. Frustratingly, she could feel hers clog up her throat and lodge underneath her tongue. Her eyes then stared down at his hand, following the twists and turns of his veins with her eyes. His skin was soft against her own. His warmth emitted an ache in her stomach.

The Siren forced them to a close and focused on the fast-paced thoughts. Overthinking wasn't her forte. She'd rather underthink - or what others usually called it - ignore it completely.

It was times like this Dallas Garcia was thankful she was the one who could read minds, not everybody else, cause hers felt like a hot pistol. It burned her membranes and frontal lobes to mush. The others, however, weren't ones she'd like to be heard. 

Following the folds of his flannel, she cautiously met his eyes through the rearview mirror. With a flicker of amusement in his gaze and a pull at the side of his lips, Dallas felt tension swarm her stomach.

She wanted to eat him alive - and he knew it.

"You okay, baby?"

Dallas forced her eyes from looking back up at his and suppressed the tingles beneath her skin. "Yeah, fine."

If only she could wait until the storm had passed to not make it so literal.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Kai Parker ran his fingers along the fork, tapping the frequencies as low as he could so it didn't disrupt his own mind. He had a plethora of thoughts sitting in there. He wondered if the fork could be siphoned - and if so, how much power would something forged in the flames of hell hold?

Secondly, he wondered if Klaus could be trusted. The obvious answer was no. He never intended to hold up his end of the deal. Kai Parker liked to think of himself as the brains behind their temporary friendship, and Klaus, as the temporary bran.

He wondered if Freya would get mad at him for it. Again.

"Whatever you do, don't drop it," James muttered dryly from behind. His voice took the heretic by such surprise that he almost did. "Like that."

Kai adjusted the jacket on his shoulders. "Hah, funny! Tell Klaus I'll have his spells when I figure this thing out."

James quirked a brow before softening them out into an understanding look. Sometimes sharing a face with one of the oldest vampires to date could be used as an advantage. "I'm not here on his behalf." The Garcia narrowed his eyes, sharpening his accent slightly. "I'm in the market for a daylight ring. You're the only witch in town."

Kai mirrored his suspicious gaze. "Where's your own?"

"What's it any of your business?"

He tutted. "Why would I help you?"

James remained silent for a minute. "So I don't rip your throat out.. with my teeth?"

He winced slightly. It sounded much more threatening coming from Derek. The longer the silence dragged on, the more he convinced himself Kai Parker had seen right through him.

Kai had been staring at him for what felt like an eternity. It was an odd feeling, being under the scrutiny of someone who seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. He feel discomfort lodging itself into his stomach and he was sure Kai could feel it too.

Although, James was a human before he was a vampire. Before that, a damn good lawyer. It was his nature to solidify under pressure. He had been stared at the same way by judges, officers and prosecutors alike. They all gave him the slight skinwalker stare; human in the eyes but something unnerving in the glint.

Just as the vampire prepared himself to fess up, Kai tutted. "Fine."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Dallas Garcia watched as Stiles and Scott stood before the jeep, staring out at the storm dimly as the Stilinski tried to comfort his best friend. 

The Siren would comfort him too but that wasn't so much her forte either. It was either sheer panic or an amalgamation of 'I told you so's and 'don't be the better person, be worse' which admittedly, neither truly helped. 

However, it gave her time to revel in a panic of her own. Digging through her bag in the backseat, Dallas hoped she'd kept her pills nearby. 

"I don't know why I believed him."

Dallas tutted as their words echoed into her ears. Who, Theo? A dumb decision from the get-go.

Scott's words carried into her ears. "I don't know why we didn't just keep talking that night."

The Siren would listen but spend most of her time huffing frustratingly as the zipper to her shoulder bag wouldn't open, leaving her listening to her Alpha's voice like a badly written podcast forced upon her to soothe her mania. 

 "Five more minutes." The Werewolf swallowed thickly, staring out to the storm. "Five more minutes and we would've figured out that there were two different stories. We would've filled in a lot of blanks."

Stiles didn't say anything. He was there to be an emotional support pillar for his best friend. Not a nagging voice in the back of his head saying I told you so.

"He knew we wouldn't." Stiles finally spoke up, lips forming into a frown. 

Dallas, however, formed her lips into an aggravated hiss. Her zipper was lodged thick enough for her only option felt like tossing it through the window. The girl had little patience, her starved frenzy driving it smaller by the second. 

"I didn't want it to happen like this." 

She froze, glancing upward with a quirked brow. Stiles almost spoke for her. "Like what?"

Scott turned to his best friend, lowering his voice, just not as low as he thought. "I knew, sooner or later, one of us was going to get a little too much blood on our hands."

Dallas glanced at her hands uneasily and felt insecurity cloud her gut, filling up the gaps of hunger. 

"I half thought it was gonna be Malia."

Stiles nodded along. "Well, she definitely seems like she's working on it." 

The Siren found herself glaring between them. Suddenly, she felt like eating both instead of just one.

Malia was a beacon of innocence to Dallie. She was the sister she always wanted. Even more so, the person she always wanted to become. Malia simply had a little more self-restraint than Dallas - and for that, she admired her. She loved her.

 The two knuckleheads in front of her, however, lost a little bit of that.

The girl pulled at her bag once more, annoyance sitting atop her knuckles like gunpowder. Much to her surprise, it seemed to help. Splitting open and spilling her belongings on the floor, Dallas watched the white container roll across the floor before stalling beside a tube of her lipstick.

"Got you, you little fucker." Dallas cheered silently as a grin fumbled its way onto her lips. She sat up, clutching the container in hand and tossing her hair back behind her shoulder.

Dallas focused her hearing back onto Scott as she nestled back into the backseat. Although, what she heard made her smile fade a little.

 "I half thought, you know-"

Glancing up from the bottle, Dallas watched him gesture to her with a slight cock of his head and felt like forming her hands into a nice gesture back, a finger in the middle of her knuckles stationed directly at his face.  

But she didn't. Instead, she heard Stiles agree along with him with a hum. 

That wasn't fair. What, morality was a coin toss between her and Malia? To them, it was a harmless joke. Maybe that's all it was to Malia. But to Dallas, she already had too much blood on her hands. They all knew it. Nobody just wanted to admit it.

"I always thought, if it were to happen, then it should be me."

At this point, Dallas stopped listening. She shifted uncomfortably at the knife she felt like they had lodged in her back. "I'm the one who's constantly putting you guys in danger, risking your lives for people you don't even know."

"It should've been me."

Stiles slapped his hand against Scott's shoulder, shaking it with a sympathetic smile pressed against his lips. 

"Come on. We only got a few hours to sunrise."

Dallas felt the car shake as Stiles sat in the driver's seat, Scott mirroring his actions as he sat in the passenger. She decided against mentioning her distaste for their bets to them. Instead, she leaned both arms on the back of their chairs and planted a fake smile across her face. 

"Had a heart-to-heart, boys?"

Stiles stared at Scott suspiciously for a moment before turning back to his girlfriend, lipgloss in hand. "This yours?"

Dallas noticed how odd remnants of her bag were still on the floor and probably rolling underneath his seat. Taking it from his hand with the crinkle of her eyes, the girl widened her sugary, tooth-rotting smile.  "Yeah.. thanks."

The girl finally leaned backwards and tapped the lipgloss against her hand, keeping her stare locked and loaded on the human boy. 

Scott leaned forward in his chair and watched the glistening of metal shine through the storm ahead. "Hey," He smacked Stiles on the shoulder, forcing him to glance away from Dallie's suspiciously sweet demeanour. "You see that?"

Stiles lingered his stare on her for a few more seconds, eyebrows furrowed and gaze watching her silhouette. He knew the storm would bring up an inkling to eat him. Now though, he wondered if she'd ever actually do it.

He wondered if he'd ever be against it.

"Stiles!" Scott smacked him on the arm once more, breaking his line of thought. "The light."

The three stared out towards the metallic shines of bright white flickering from beneath the mountain. It didn't take long for Scott to be the first to connect the dots. "It's Kira."

Dallas felt a knawing in the pit of her stomach. Some for Kira, some for the worryingly light container etched in her hand. As the two boys stared forward, she mustered up the courage to look down. 

Sliced into the bottle of pills, in a perfect three, a slash mark stared back. There were a lot of things Dallas knew. 

One, the pills were always kept in her back pocket for safekeeping. 

Two, the claw marks were too jagged and split to be her own.  

Three, she could spot a chimaera scent from a mile away.

Dallas Garcia tutted lowly. Oh, how done she was with men.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

"We done?"

James watched his old wedding ring flicker beneath the bulbed light. He thought wearing it would resurface old feelings. Yet, the same hatred for the woman who gave him his daughter remained. "Just let me double-check."

He stretched out his hand into a slither of sunlight pouring through the cracks in the window. His eyes squeezed shut, waiting for it to burst into a pit of flames before his eyes. Although, no flames came. Just a superstitious vampire and a bitter witch standing in silence together.

"Ha!" James let out an excited huff. "You're a champ."

Kai knitted his eyebrows together unamusedly, turning his head to the side to pack up his candles. 

"So, I'm really sorry about this."

The boy froze, lifting his head ever so slightly to meet the vampire's look. "Sorry about what?-"

His sentence was cut short, as was his breathing, as James planted his hands on the side of his neck and forced it swiftly to the side. Kai's body dropped to his feet with a thump - something that made James inwardly cringe - before he pulled out the sash of mountain ash in his back pocket. 

"I really hope that didn't actually kill you," Jim muttered, sprinkling a small ring around his body. "What good of a lawyer would I be if I went down for murder?"

The vampire froze, prodding the unconscious witch with his finger momentarily. He had yet to take a human life and wanted it to stay that way for as long as possible.

"Eh, it'll be fine."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Malia rummaged through the drawers of the animal clinic, pacing back and forth as papers scuttled from her hands. She let out a few grunts of frustration and ripped a few in the process. 

"Can't find him, can you?"

The were-coyote froze at the voice. Straightening her posture slowly, Malia connected her eyes with Theo Raeken. "Probably don't even know where to start." 

He leaned against the doorframe. Smug as ever. "You're not gonna find him." 

Malia narrowed her eyes as she took a step forward. "Let's be honest, he's probably already dead." Theo taunted. "I wonder what's gonna happen when Scott realizes that it's your fault."

Theo only had a few seconds to blink before Malia lunged towards him. Pressing her hands against his chest, he stumbled back into a glass cabinet and stumbled to the floor. Seconds weren't something she gave lightly - as a few after, she reached for his collar once more and pulled him to his feet. Her glare burned into his eyes before she tightened her grip around his neck.

 "I should kill you." Malia spat, a ferocity settling inside of her and poisoning her bloodstream. 

Theo split another grin. "Yeah, but you won't. You like me too much."

She scrunched up her nose into another growl before tossing him to the floor, sending punch after punch onto his face. Blood soaked into his teeth and formed a bitter taste on his tongue.

 Theo could've easily pushed her off. But he didn't. He always seemed to take a liking to spiteful women. For better or for worse. Instead of wincing at her punches, he gleamed a bloody smile. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of fighting back.

 "I let Stiles kick my ass too. Twice." He spat out a mouthful of blood, fidgeting with his arm. "He never broke any bones."

One stuck out from beneath the skin. So much so, that he had to snap it back into place with his own hand. Growls of immense pain scuttled from his lips while his choked pants slipped between them. 

Malia stared at him with vicious hatred. With one look stern enough to kill, she pushed his shoulder back to the floor as he attempted to get up. "I should just let Dallie eat you."

"That's a common threat around here, huh?" He hummed sarcastically, "Look, I can help you find them. Deaton and the Desert wolf."

"How?"

"The Dread Doctors. I know how they found everyone."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Stiles winced at the sunlight as it cascaded over his eyes, pulling up on a dusty desert road path. While Dallas spent most of her time presumptuously annoyed by Scott, she wouldn't let him retrieve Kira alone. He was her Alpha, and before that, he was her friend.

That didn't mean she couldn't toss a little salt into his wounds, though. 

 She stood beside Scott, brushing the dirt off her alligator-printed boots with a huff as she spoke. "Keep the Jeep in gear. If we don't come back in five minutes-"

Stiles interrupted sarcastically. "Leave you for dead?" 

The Siren shook her head in dismay. "No, you wait another five minutes."

He chuckled. "But what if you don't come back after those five minutes?"

Dallas adjusted the sunglasses on her face. While her eyes watched Scott pace around the mountainside, she slid the rims down her nose and leaned closer to his face with a dense whisper.

"Then I've killed Scott and you're next."

Stiles matched her tone, coarsing his minted breath across her face as he murmured. "I don't want you to get hurt." He paused for a moment. "You'll be good for me, won't you?" 

Dallas pretended to think for a moment before pulling away from the Jeep door, hands crawling upwards to flex beside her face. "Don't worry. I already have enough blood on my hands."

She watched his eyes narrow and his lips split into a sarcastic smile. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. From the vindictive glimmer in her eyes to the mischevious smile on her teeth, Stiles knew she waiting for him to cave.

Still, he didn't break their gaze.

 "I mean it, Dallie." He hummed, voice dropping a few octaves and hands resting against the steering-wheel.

She hummed. "Ooh.. scary."

Dallas turned to face him once more and swore she could see her reflection in his dashing smile.

"Scott, wait up!"

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

The heat was humid. It made Dallas feel like the air was squeezing at her body and engulfing it into smothering hug. She could barely breathe between the cracks of cold. Dallas loved the cold. From cold stares, cold weather and cold nights all the way to cold hands, cold showers and cold bedsheets.

The heat, though, she had her certain soft spots for.

Dallas kicked a couple of odd rocks with her shoe before tapping her shoulder against Scott's. "Malia isn't gonna fly off the deep end. You can stop worrying." 

He gave her a quizzical look before wincing inwardly. "So you heard me and Stiles?"

"If your intention was to be subtle, you officially failed." She clicked her teeth with her tongue as she stared out at the open desert. "Don't worry. I won't tell."

"... Why?"

"Malia has enough to deal without you two jerks making her insecure," She pulled the sleeve of his jacket, forcing him to look her in the eye. "If she wants to find the Desert Wolf, you gotta let her make her own decisions. No backseat.. Alpha-ing."

Scott adjusted his stance against the sand. "Dallie, that's not something she can take back. I don't want her to make a mistake."

"Scott." She inhaled sharply. "You can't hold yourself responsible for everybody else."

His shoulders flattened against his back. "How else am I meant to protect them?"

Dallas was unsure of what exactly to say. It was times like this she wished she could call up her father and toss the question to him instead. He always knew the right answers. He could make anyone feel better. 

It wasn't until Dallas realised she spent nights asking herself that same question. As she too, held herself responsible for him.

"Look, Sco- ow!"

His hand planted itself over her mouth and dragged her to the floor with him, hiding behind a nearby rock. Dallas shrugged his hands from around her jaw before spitting out a glare.

 "Do that again and I will bite you."

Scott didn't pay much attention to her and instead focused his eyes onto the figures poking out from over the rocks. They wore different types of leather, wielding spears and swords, complimented by different types of charchoal and cracked white pigment makeup smearing across their face.

In the middle, stood Kira Yukimura. 

Dallas could smell the traces of blood on her attire. She could see the scratches and dirt litter her face. She could feel the anxiety radiating from her silhoutte. 

Her mother stood behind her. Still and silently supporting her, they both stared out at the skinwalkers. 

"What are you talking about?" Kira swallowed thickly. "I beat it. I won."

Dust whistled through the crevices of the rocks and made their chests grow tight as they watched Kira. "Now show me what I'm supposed to do."

"You wield the sword." One skinwalker, face painted in white and eyes sunken into black smudges, stated blankly. "But the Fox wields you."

Kira turned to her mother before barking out her words with demand. "What the hell does that mean?"

Another spoke. This one wore red swatch across her eyes and white stripes down her neck. "It means you have no control." 

Another. "No hope."

And another. "Without us."

Kira stepped backward, shoulders sinking into herself with disappointment. 

"It means you will stay.. and become one of us."

Kira felt her mother stand infront of her. She stared down the skinwalkers with distaste, if they weren't supernatural beings - but middle-school bullies instead. 

Scott's jaw tightened. It made his teeth ache terribly and force a sour taste on his tongue. He blinked, then blinked once more, before his iris charged up into a crimson stare. 

The ground shook beneath them as the Skinwalkers stabbed their spears into the floor and forced it to break apart at the seams. One crack lined the earth, forcing itself to split out into multiple ones before they stopped at Kira's feet.

"Mom?" She cried out. Desperate. Afraid. "Mom!"

Noshiko planted her feet firmly against the floor. Sliding out of its holster, a sword nestled into both of her hands and glimmered underneath the sunlight. "Kira, get in the car."

She pushed herself to the front as Kira stumbled behind. "What?"

"Get in the car."

The Skinwalkers simply cocked their head to the side. Noshiko wasn't a threat. She was their challenge.

Kira couldn't feel her feet thump against the sand as she ran. She couldn't even feel her own heartbeat. The only thing she felt was the gust of wind spin past her face and the blow of warm air as the car's tire split open before her eyes, a spear piercing the rubber.

With gritted teeth, the Kitsune pulled it free and planted it beside her threateningly. 

"She stays with us." 

Noshiko chuckled. "I'm Kitsune of 900 years. You want her? You'll have to go through me."

Dallas felt Scott shift beside her. "I.. I gotta help her." He shuffled against the dirt. "Stay here."

"What do you mean, stay here?" She watched him scurry out of sight. "Scott!"

He didn't listen to her. Of course he didn't listen to her. It seemed he was doomed with too much confidence and not much of a plan.

The Alpha scurried around the rocks, dodging the Skinwalker's sight as they stalked towards Noshiko. He appeared at her side, teeth bared and a roar shaking the ground beneath them. Fur elagonated from his cheeks and claws dug into the dirt as he hunched over. 

Kira appeared at the other side, spear pointed outwards and wind cascading through her hair as a fiery fox outlined her body. "Dallas!" Scott nodded to beside her. "Spear!"

The Siren reached for it but felt her hair mangle up into someone's hand before being pulled backwards against the rock. Glaring her eyes upward, the Skinwalker's face etched into her memory as it held tightly onto her braid. 

Dallas always kept one in her hair. In a way, it was like keeping a trinket of her tail with her wherever she went. 

Chuckling, the skinwalker twisted it around her finger before settling the sharpened edge of her spear underneath. She spat out her words like they physically burned her tongue. "Siren."

Just before she sliced into her braid, Dallas forced her boot against her legs gruffly. Seeing her stumble backwards and lose her footing, she then scooped the spear from the floor and span it between her fingers.

 "You sound jealous."

Her skinwalker stare rivaled the hypnotic Siren glare. 

She glanced to the spear. "That's mine."

Dallas hummed underneath her narrowed eyes before slamming it against the rock, feeling the pieces shatter and break against the element. "It was."

Staring up at her, Dallas felt her irises shrink up into her pupil, lighting up the white of her eyes until vibrant glows speckled across her nose and eyebrows. As sunlight flickered from the broken pieces of wood and steel, the Skinwalker felt rage thicken her skin and armor her from the the Siren's predatory gaze.

She spat at her feet. "You're no threat. Your kind can only eat men."

"I'm down if you are."

It seemed her coy jokes were enough to send her rage into fury. Lunging at her, Dallas felt two hands tighten around her neck. There was desperation in her strength. Uncertainty in her shaky fingertips. Dallas wondered if she wasn't such a threat, why was she so afraid?

And that's when she hummed -- and sank her teeth into her wrist.

Blood coated her tongue and seeped across her teeth. A good chunk of flesh settled in her throat pecuriarly. The taste wasn't something Dallas was expecting. It seemed oxidized, unnaturally bitter and sour at the core. The teenager forced it down before showing the Skinwalker her empty tongue. 

"Can I?"

Yelling out in frustration, the Skinwalker clutched her hand with unsteady pants as blood bucketed from the teethmarks.

Dallas wiped the blood from her chin with her sleeve, staring down at the Skinwalker as she dropped to her feet. With thunder crackling the sky behind her and scales poking out to breathe atop her cheekbones, she pressed her lips together.

"Never touch the hair." She stood her boot against her shoulder, kicking her back into the rock as she attempted to stand. Her heel then dug into fresh bite before gritting her bone into the sand. "Ever."

"Dallie, come on!"

Dallas glanced up at Stiles. Pulling his friends into his Jeep, he waited for her with an outstretched hand. Yet, the moment she looked away was the moment the Skinwalker dug a knife into her thigh. It nestled right underneath one of her scales and brought an inhuman hiss from up her throat. 

Dallas didn't bleed naturally when she was the Siren. The Scales managed to bandage up most of her wounds by themselves. Although, when she pulled out the blade, it pulled out a few of those, too.

She leaned against the rock in agony. Her hands shook while the knife clattered to the ground. Whether it was from pain or anger, she wasn't sure. 

When angered, most people saw red. A hot anger coating their eyes and blinding them from their actions. That never happened to Dallas. It wasn't red she saw. It was white.

Slinging back her claws, they sliced through Skinwalker's face like sharpened saw. It wasn't a bite she had to coddle anymore - it was a three tear marks sinking into the side of her face, sinking into the flesh on her cheek and stopping right above her eye. 

Screams of agony entered her ears like muddled choirs. Blinking abruptly, her white eyes flickered back to brown and suddenly became very aware of the sticky liquid coating her fingers. 

A bite was intentional. Scarring? Not as much.

Dallas stumbled backwards before running the other way. Spears whirred past her head and buried themselves into the rocks behind her.

 All Dallas had to do was make it to the Jeep. Count her breaths, force her steps and try not to die. Easier said than done.

She turned her head and caught the reflection of a spear flying towards her face. Dallas was sure it'd kill her. Impalement through the face would be a little harder to come back from. 

Just as it would've, though, Stiles Stilinski's hand pulled her into the Jeep. 

Her back slammed uncomfortably against the leather seats and hands slipped the texture as she tried to sit up. Stiles was already plummeting the speed limit, Kira was breathing heavily beside her, Noshiko protected her side of the vehicle with her sword - and Scott? He looked completely relieved.

The car shook underneath her as they sped across the rocky terrain. Dallas wasn't filled with as much relief as the others, however. Lifting her fingers from her sides, she frowned at the red hue that covered them.

Blood coated her hands. Whether she ever intended it or not. 

That was her nature.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

There was nothing good that could come from insecurity. It was automated, sure, but dwelling in thoughts of self-negativity only ever brought the worst.

Second guessing your purpose, your actions and your words would only result in second-guessing your entire existence - and your existence as a whole should never be regretted.

Dallas Garcia seemed to disagree. She, who had spent the remainder of her time back home in bed, fiddled with her hands and thought about nothing but insecurity. She thought about the blood she had washed off in the shower. The way the red really did seem to compliment her skin. 

It made her sick that it didn't.

Dallas heard a tap against her window. She was aware of the branches and twigs surrounding her window, and the neverending strips of ivy, so she bundled deeper into bed and thought nothing of it. Her book rested flatly against her knuckles and raindrops shadowed her warm bedroom floor.

Tap.

Whether it was ferocious wind or a blind bird mistaking her for Snow White, Dallas couldn't seem to ignore the continuous tapping against her window.

Tap tap.

It was enough to make her jolt up out of bed and face her window with knitted brows.

Another tap ensued - this one finally catching her sight. They weren't taps. They were rocks. Flying towards her window in the rain.

Dallas pulled open her window and stuck her head out just far enough so rain wouldn't immediately soak her hair.

"Let me in."

Her eyes followed down to the floor and met the exhausted ones of Stiles Stilinski. He stood outside her window, annoyed and drenched while holding a fistful of rocks in his left hand. His hair stuck to his forehead and his clothes practically hugged his chest. "I've been knocking at this door for ten minutes, now."

"I know. I'm ignoring you."

Stiles tutted loud enough for her to hear over the patters. "Dallie."

"I want to be alone."

"Dallie, come on." He dropped the rocks to the floor. "Let me in. I want to see you."

Dallas remained still for a moment, pretending to think. Her elbows pressed against the windowsill while her hands still clutched the handles to the open window. "Um," she began. "No."

And with that, her window slammed shut - leaving a very disgruntled and passionate Stiles Stilinski standing out in the rain with nothing but his own heartache and body heat to warm his soul.

Stiles turned to leave but caught his eyes upon the trails of ivy leading up to her window. His eyes flickered to his jeep.. then to the warm lights glistening from her bedroom.. and made a dignified choice.

 "Fuck, the things I do for this girl," he muttered before latching onto the vines.

Dallas tied her hair up with a clip before pulling a pink cardigan around her shoulders and peeking outside her bedroom door. She couldn't hear her father downstairs -- which suddenly, made the house feel cold and emptier than it was before. 

Becoming a supernatural was alot to take on. She didn't blame him for his busy plate. She just wished he'd allow her to help him stomach some of it.

There was another tap at her window. The Siren groaned.

Walking across her carpet tiredly, Dallas pulled it open. "Stiles, I told you-"

Although, what Dallas didn't expect, was for him to lean against the ridges of her window and steady himself against the drainpipes. He gave her a stern look. "Let me in before I slip."

Dallas bit back the smile and stepped aside silently. Winning that small victory, Stiles slipped through the window -- almost literally -- before wincing at the sudden change in temperature as he steadied himself against the cushioned flooring.

She never really paid attention to how much he towered over her. Not until his face loomed with shadows and his chest was at her eyesight. She tried not to think about it.

Stiles didn't say anything. He simply stared down at her, allowing droplets of water to stream down his forehead and fall from his fingers.

She was the first to speak. "You're dripping all over my carpet."

The edges of his mouth barely moved. "I don't care."

Dallas forced herself to turn away and remove herself from his line of view while pulling the book from her bedsheets. Stiles watched her curiously, so curious in fact, that he quirked his brow at her literature choice.

"So this is what you're doing instead of answering my texts?"

"I'm sorry, do you want to go back out in the rain?"

He sent her a bashful look. ".. No."

"Then what do you want?.. Cause I'm busy -- and I'm tired - and I have a carpet to clean."

Stiles stepped closer. "I told you to be good. You come back and don't speak to anyone."

Dallas didn't answer him. Instead, she fixated on his clothes. "How about I go get you a towel?"

Dallas tried to walk away but felt him gently tug at her wrist. His skin was faintly sticky from the rainwater and cold, causing goosebumps to arise on his shoulders and chest.

Raindrops shadowed him instead of the floor this time and darkened the crevices of his face and body. His frame rivaled hers, shoulders high and wide as moonlight poked from above the tip of the bone. It was as though he had been carved from a slat of stone, unmoving and intimidatingly stiff.

 His hand tucked a stray hair behind her ear, following along her jawline with his thumb and settling his finger beneath her chin. 

Stiles had inner turmoil. She could tell from the hazy look in his eyes and the occasional flutter of his jaw. 

"That's not good, is it?" He muttered, raising his eyebrow just a little bit.

"Let me guess, I broke your rule?" She asked. Her hand slid up to rest against his neck.

Stiles pulled it away and her stomach instantly grew a knot once she saw his eyes. A glimmer of intrigue. A hint of longing.

He pressed a kiss against her wrist, then her forearm, then her shoulder as he pulled her arm up across his neck. Lips pressed against her skin and mumbled against it. "You did more than that to me."

"Do you know what you do to me?" Stiles whispered in her ear, his fingers sliding up her throat and pressing against her jaw so she could look him in the eyes. 

His voice was smooth. Deep. A concoction of charm and seasoned mystery. 

"You could show me." She whispered, barely audible. 

Chuckles sent shivers up her spine as his vibrated against her ear. For a moment, she wondered if she'd have to ask him again. 

When she opened her mouth, she felt his lips roughly meet hers without a second thought. 

They were desperate. Soaking up the taste of her lipgloss like it held the last speckles of oxygen on earth.

He didn't waste time and straightened her back against the wall, keeping her waist steady with hemline of his jeans pressing against her pelvis. Pulling the shirt from his shoulders, he stifled a few groans as Dallas dragged her nails up the skin before helping him toss it over his head. 

He planted his lips against hers rougher this time, sinking his teeth into her bottom lip and tasting her tongue with his own. His lips traveled from her mouth down to her jawline until he began planting biting kisses on her neck, marking her in areas more visible than usual.

Dallas guided his hand underneath her thighs, pulling one leg up against his sides while his knee seperated the other. Hands were warm as they tore down the fabric underneath her nightgown. He brushed the lace up against her thighs while pulling down the straps on her shoulder with his teeth. 

She threw her head back and began squeezing her eyes shut hard enough to see stars. The familiar tension rocked her hips. It was slow at first, taunting and aching, until Dallas jerked his head back with the pull of his hair. 

She met his eyes - hazy and smug - before both hands grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up around his waist. 

The ache grew. It brought a heat on her skin that only his lips could cool. She wanted to savour the taste of him. She wanted sweetness of the rain coursing down his face from the wetness of his hair. She wanted to breathe him in. She wanted it all.

He squeezed her shoulder and lifted her higher, her body soft against him. Ragged breaths panted out while the wet strands of hair fell infront of his eyes. Her sharp nails drew outlines of pleasure on the skin on his back and left deep, long scratch-marks up his spine.

She moaned out in quick breaths and cries as his voice murmured against her neck. "Nobody makes you feel like I do, huh?"

Her teeth pulled at her lower lip desperately as she shook her head no.

His as jolts became harder as he rode into her, his hands on her hips and his face in her neck. Dallas couldn't stop the moan that escaped her lips. Nor could she control the sensation of her body arching against his. "Tell me."

Dallas lifted her head while the hair behind her brushed up against the wall. Her moans weren't quiet - and he loved them more each time he heard one. "Fuck, no."

A grin stretched from one end of his face to the other as he readjusted his grip on her, pulling her leg up to the sides of his ribcage and painting the texture of the wall onto her back with each time she was forced into it.

 "Can anybody touch you like I do?" He nipped at her earlobe, murmuring the words into it. 

"Never." Dallas moaned, words dragging into into a whimper as he delved deeper between her hips. Hickeys covered her chest while some painted themselves as high as underneath her ears and jawline.

He planted his hand against the wall beside her head, digging his nails into the paint and scratching at the brick. Her hips tightened around him and his steadied inside her. With one hand successfully holding her up, he used the other to wrap around her lower back and slide closer towards his. 

"That's cause you're mine, ain't it?" He plummeted his hips forward, pressing kisses against her chest. 

 "Are you mine?"

"I'm yours."  The words rolled off her tongue like a purr, beggining him to never relieve the thickening tension he brought. "Just don't stop. Don't ever stop."

He rode into her, leaving scratchmarks into the wall and her skin while causing Dallie's vision to blot with white. She blinked an inhuman glow as a different type of hunger arrived. One that didn't want to eat him whole but take him.

Stiles' cursing grew louder as she melted into the wall and tossed her head to the side with each shake of her lower half. 

Dallas gasped as he lifted her leg higher, settling himself between her legs even deeper than before and watching her face squirm with each thrust forward. Her moans muffled into her hand as she placed it over her mouth. 

Threads of lace split from the tension on the fabric but Dallie didn't care. She propped her arm around his neck and tossed her head back as the movement made her dizzy. Euphoria was blasting in her veins. Her vocal cords whined like windpipes in a storm. Her body had never felt so electric as it did then.

He kissed her open mouth as moans slipped from between her teeth. She felt her muscles tense up under his touch. The heat between them felt stronger. Each shake and twist of her body brought her closer to the edge. 

"Harder." Her words drew out in a sultry tone, body tensing up against his as she moved along with his pace. "Fuck, I'm almost there."

Eyebrows creased softly while her mouth parted with a much louder, softer moan left her mouth.

 "Who's are you?" Stiles teased, riding out his high with a smug tone. 

Dallas couldn't respond this time. The only words leaving her mouth were mixes of half-words and moans. "You're mine, pretty girl. Tell me one last time."

"Oh fuck, I'm-" She hissed. "I'm yours."

Her head fell against the wall as he took one last dive, hitting just the right spot to release the tension in her stomach. Her choruses became enchanting. Moans thickened into pleasured cries that only she could make holy. Muttering praises in her ear, Dallas felt the ache soothen in her stomach with a final moan that hurt even her ears.

Finally, his dropped onto her shoulder and glanced up. His fingers brought the tip of her chin upward and watched as her eyes faded back to their honey-toned brown. With a satisfied hum, he longed to the see the white once more. 

"I think I'm gonna show you all night."

Dallas felt him pull at her waist and turn her around while the wall pressed against her cheek. The white eyes appeared once more, her skirt catching on his belt buckle and his hands guiding her from behind. This time he didn't start slow. He'd give the wall a good show.

☆ word count: 9,666. ☆

a/n: if the smuts bad im going with the excuse that i havent written any in months. happy (very) late christmas!