Author's Note: Hello World of New Age Fanfiction. I feel like as trends change and generations grow, so do social awareness. My older fanfics were not only written by a less mature me but had heavy traces of gender roles, toxic hyper-masculinity and romanticized not only self-harm but mental illness and abuse (mostly verbal and emotional). I've since deleted all my earlier stuff and have been planning to make a comeback starting with the plot line I know the most. Teen Wolf (or at least the first 2 seasons, I haven't watched past the 3rd:/). Please enjoy!

Chapter One

"Are you nervous?" My assigned buddy smiled at me, his teeth were oddly perfect- he looked like he belonged in a magazine cover. But to answer his question, I snorted haughtily. "I'm guessing this isn't your first time being new huh?" He left a very small time slot to answer, "I've moved around a few times, never out of The Hills though. Lived here my whole life." He continued on about himself and suddenly his pretty face wasn't so charming.

"Jackson!" A petite strawberry blonde walked- no strutted over to us. I analyzed her body as she did, taking what I saw and piecing together a fraction of the character she wanted me to see her as. From how she kept her shoulders painfully back, stomach constricted and her lips taunted to a slight smirk- she was either a bitch or a manipulative arrogant bitch. Either way, I had time for neither. "Who's this?" Her voice was sharp and her tone was backhanded. Defensive almost.

I chuckled through my nose, she felt threatened by me and she didn't even know my name.

"This is Moira Beauchamp." Jackson looked back at me to confirm his pronunciation, to which I gave him a curt nod.

"Beauchamp?" The brunette seemed to pop into focus as she walked closer into the conversation. She gave me a small smile as she leaned in uncertain. "The origin…you're French?" She spoke lowly in French and I cracked a smile.

"Yes, my mother is Creole and my father is Dominican. My grandparents made in their mission to make Spanish my first language before I was taught English." I responded back in French, "But honestly, I like French better." We both shared a laugh, both of already certain we'd be pretty good friends.

"I'm Allison." She said in English, her bright smile still pleasantly flourished on her face. She was the humble out of the two, assuming they were friends. "This is Lydia and as you can probably already notice, her boyfriend Jackson." Lydia seemed a little bothered that she didn't get to introduce herself, but her smile widened as the words 'her boyfriend Jackson' lingered.

"Yes, Jackson is such a sweetheart, literally, wouldn't stop talking about you while we walked." I lied and Lydia grinned, pulling Jackson down to her level to peck his cheek. He seemed a bit peeved by the lie, but no less remained cocky as he smiled. The bell ringing seemed to pull everyone into individual conversations, Lydia seemed to be talking to Allison and her boyfriend, Jackson to me and Allison to all of us.

"Actually, I can see that my second class is right there so," I kept my smile thin as I walked through them. "Thank you Jackson and I hope we have lunch together!" I spoke generally, with my back turned to them I assumed that they assumed I was talking to all three of them. And in a way I guess I was, sitting with Lydia would secure me a spot in finding as much info as I could about anyone I needed.

Chill Moira, it's not a mission. It's just school. Breathe, I repeated in my head. I wasn't nervous. I just never smelled so much wolf in an area before. So much anger, so much pain. It made my stomach turn.

I walked slowly into the class, holding my breath as I did. Someone was defiantly just in here, the entire room reeked of wolf and his fresh wound wasn't healing. "Goodmorning Miss. Beauchamp." The teacher had an attitude about him. Like he wanted to readjust the stick up his ass but no matter what it was still uncomfortable. "I was informed that you previously attended Episcopal School of Acadiana." He sighed, pulling out a few large textbooks and slamming them on his desk before finally looking at me. "Pretty prestigious." Was he assuming I got kicked out or something?

I raised my brow, "Was there a point to any of that?" I blurted, but was unapologetic about it. It seemed to surprise him, his neck growing red. He cleared his throat before shoving me one of the textbooks and the syllabus.

"Since you were late," He hissed, "Take any seat left." I kept my face as stoic as I could, trying to seem as unbothered as I evidently was. Turning, I spotted the seat next to a blonde girl. Our gazes met and she immediately cowered into her arms. As I walked, I kept my shoulders back coolly, ignoring the occasional gaze or two before I finally reached my seat.

I didn't have much in my bag, just the standard small pencil case, makeup bag, phone and charger plus a single binder and some empty folders. At the moment it was incredibly light and I figured since the lockers were a good size, I'd actually make good use it them. With that thought, I gave the heavy textbook a glare as I pulled out my pencil. "Pst!" I looked to my right, at the other person sitting next to me.

He was an odd looking boy, attractive but weird. Like he fell a lot when he was a baby…on his head…a lot. "He's not going to let you use that." He pointed to my pencil. "He doesn't believe kids of our age should use pencils in any class except math." I gave a soft oh, before putting my pencil back into the fabric case and pulling out a black pen, I looked at him for affirmation but he just stared at me.

I raised my brow as high as I possibly could, his eyes seemed to take down every detail of my face. His tongue curled around his button lip to lick his chapped lips, and as predatory as it sounded, I refused to believe this scrawny lil white boy could even break a pencil. He is kinda cute though, little piece of wonderbread, I cleared my throat and he blinked.

"Wha- oh- yeah!" He practically yelled.

"Mr. Stilinski I'd appreciate it if you kept your attention up here please." I looked up at our teacher, realizing that I didn't even catch his name. Before the boy could even answer, our teacher began to rapidly hand out papers to the first person in each row. I sat back, relaxing as I knew the next 5 minutes was going to be nothing but the shuffling of papers.

"What's your name?" He asked and I noticed it peaked the interest of a few surrounding students. "I'm Stiles." I blinked as his named echoed in my head. What the fuck kind of name, "That's David and the girl next to you is Erica." Only David waved, Erica kept her head down, shelter by her arms.

"Moira." I answered, my accent came thick when I said my name. He seemed impressed by the name, his lips curling down in an odd frown. "I just moved here from Louisiana, I live down by the greenbelt." He seemed to perk at that, he hurriedly grabbed the papers passed back to him, giving them to the person behind him. Forgetting to actually grab himself one.

"By the Preserve?" He asked, leaning over his desk to get as close to my space as possible. Trying to ignore his scent, I looked at the paper, handing it to the person behind me. PROJECT DUE: THIS FRIDAY (1/14). I sighed, of course the stick up the ass would assign his class a project the second day their back from their break. I looked at Stiles, nodding to wave his question away. "Do you see a lot of weird-"

"STILINSKI!"

I ignored his odd gazes to me for the rest of the class, trying to take as many notes as I could to get myself to where they had paused for break. Mr. Smith taught like a professor, he stayed on topic and belted out his lecture before taking questions. I was thankful for this, it kept the Stiles boy quiet.

It wasn't just smell anymore, the more he sat next to me, the more my other senses were intoxicated by his feedback. I was starting to taste his impatience and anxiousness to ask more questions. I needed to feed or at least take my medicine. I took notice when some kids began to slowly pack and I silently shuffled my papers into the textbook just as the bell rang. "Hey what's your next class?" He pushed his materials into his bag as he moved to my seat, staring down at me as he waited.

I handed him my schedule, which he ran down a few times before handing it back. "Shall I escort you to your next class mademoiselle?" He asked politely, even adding a stereotypical "huh huh" French laugh. I was unimpressed but still, it was kinda comedic. And I didn't want to hear Jackson gloat so I did what any girl in her right mind would do.

I declined.

pg. 3