Hey! Long time, no update, right? Right. I know some of you were disappointed when I took down HYLY, and I've decided to re-write and start over, with new character, sort-of same plotline. Avila (pronounced uh-vee-lah) is still Stiles' younger sister whom of which he loves to death and would do anything for her, her faceclaim is still Phoebe Tonkin, and she still has a hatred for Derek! This is basically HYLY with a slightly different OC, and slightly better writing. I'll post a trailer on my tumblr sometime soon, and my tumblr is on my profile. Anyways, remember to check out my polyvore for character outfits and my tumblr for trailers, gifs and previews!
Title: Head Over Hate
Summary: I never asked to be caught up in the supernatural drama of Beacon Hills, and I certainly never asked to be stuck with an arrogant, green-eyed werewolf, who may or may not be my worst enemy. Derek X OC, season 3A.
"Lydia…"
"It is not a triple date, it is a group thing," Lydia snapped. I rolled my eyes, firing off a series of texts to my brother and Scott. Lydia had forced Allison and me on a triple date the second we heard she was back from France.
"Do they know it's a group thing?" Allison added, giving Lydia a look. "Because, I told you, I'm not ready to get back out there…"
"You were in France and didn't do any dating? For four months?" I poked my head between the scenes, raising a brow at my brunette friend.
"Let's not talk about me. Let's talk about you two. Did you do any dating?" Allison glanced between me and Lydia.
"Yeah, Lydia, after—" I began.
"Avila! Do not say his name," she snapped.
"Is he okay? Did everything work out?" Allison questioned. I shrugged.
"Never liked the guy enough to keep tabs on him," I grumbled, rolling my eyes at the memory of Jackson.
"The doctors looked like total idiots when he turned up alive," Lydia smiled a little, "And yes, Derek taught him the werewolf 101, like how not to randomly kill people during a full moon."
"Ha, an American werewolf in London. Guess we know how that'll turn out," I chuckled. "So you're totally over it?"
"Would I be going on this date if I wasn't?" Lydia growled. My smile dropped and I frowned.
"So you lied to us?"
The car was uncomfortably quiet.
"So, Avila, what'd you do?" Allison turned around to regard me. I shrugged.
"Made Stiles take me shopping because my dad took my keys," I muttered.
"What'd you do?" Lydia's brows shot to her hairline.
"Nothing! Does throwing a high-heel at Stiles' head and cracking the TV count?"
"Avila!" Allison laughed. "You and Stiles argue too much!"
"Speaking of Stiles…" I whispered. My brother was driving the jeep next to us, staring straight at Lydia.
"Oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god! I can't see him now!" Allison gasped. She must mean Scott.
"Lydia, drive!" I snapped.
"But the light—"
"Drive!" I yelled. Lydia didn't budge.
"Heyyy!" Stiles yelled, leaning out the window. Lydia stamped the gas and the small Honda shot forward.
After a few minutes of driving in silence, glanced up at Allison.
"You alright?" I asked. She just nodded. When I heard wheels screeching, I looked in Lydia's rear view to see my brother's car swerve to a stop.
"Lydia, stop. We need to go back and… Talk to them," Allison turned around to stare out the back window. The car slowly halted.
"They stopped too…" Lydia murmured.
"Why would they stop?" Allison raised her eyebrows.
"It's my brother and Scott. Who—" my words were dissolved into screaming. A piece of glass slit the skin above my right eyebrow and my hand instinctively flew up to protect my face. I stumbled out of the car, backing away from it.
"You okay?" Scott yelled, rushing to Allison. Stiles practically flew to my side, eyes glued to the cut above my eye.
"It came out of nowhere!" I screeched.
"Are you hurt?" Stiles questioned, hand on my arm.
"My eye," I gently touched the cut, flinching. "How the hell did it just run into us?!"
"I saw its eyes right before it hit us! It's like… Like it was crazy!" Lydia gasped. Scott had his hand on the neck of the dead animal.
"No… It was scared…" Scott murmured. After a long pause, he turned to us. "It was terrified."
Groaning, my hand touched the butterfly bandage covering the stitches above my eye. I was worn out from the events of last night, and Stiles ended up driving me to the hospital when my cut wouldn't stop bleeding. I swung my legs over the side of my bed, running a hand through my tangled brown hair. I groggily stumbled over to my closet, pushing aside hangers until I'd found a shirt that seemed suitable. It was a plaid button down with a ruffle down the front. I rubbed my eyes again, blindly grabbing a pair of ripped jeans. I tugged them on, along with the shirt, which I mis-buttoned at least twice. I turned back to my closet, shoving random shirts and skirts off the floor. Dammit, Stiles. I stormed out of my room and down the hall, pushing the door open and shooting my brother a hard glare.
"Stiles!" I hissed.
"Av, what is it?" Stiles glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Where did you put my chestnut Jardins?" I growled. "Those cost like, two-hundred dollars!"
"Oh, those…" Stiles flashed me a grin. "Give me fifty bucks."
"Dad!"
Stiles and I bargained on twenty dollars, and he gave me my shoes back. I straightened my hair into waves, and, with a little picture-texting from Lydia, I'd done my brown-and-gold, sparkly eyeshadow to perfection.
"Av, you ready for school?" my dad gently pushed open my bedroom door. I glanced at him from my closet.
"I guess. Still trying to find my jacket," I grumbled. "Found it," I added, pulling out my brown oakwood leather jacket.
"You alright?" he questioned, pointing at the three stitches above my eye.
"Fine," I shrugged. "Can I have my keys?"
"Nope."
We met Scott at school, and he filled me in on the whole story about his tattoo healing.
"I wanna ask Derek for help," he added, not looking at me. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
"You wanna ask Derek for help? Why?" I grumbled.
"He's got the triskele tattoo on his back, so there has to be a way to do it without healing," Scott shrugged.
"Doesn't he have his hands a little full?" Stiles motioned at the missing posters hanging up on the wall. Erica and Boyd had been missing for four months, since the whole lizard-man fiasco.
"I want the applications filed!" someone snapped. I arched a brow and exchanged a glance with Stiles and Scott. We peered around the corner to see the principal yelling at the new secretary. "And whatever happened to the library, I want it cleared up! And what the hell, is this?" the principal held up a long, silver broadsword.
"Go! Go!" I gave Scott a shove.
Our first class, English. Allison and Lydia walked in last, I sat on the right of Scott. The only available seat for Allison was in front of Scott. My brother gave the werewolf a thumbs up, and I just chuckled. Right about that time, my phone rang. As did every other phone in the room.
"The offspring was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky seemed to lead into a heart of immense darkness," a voice read the text on my screen. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phone's off," a woman said. I raised my eyebrows at her. She wore a black pencil skirt and heels, her skin was pale. How did you get my phone number?
"I officially hate this class," I groaned quietly.
"I would like everyone to summarize what you think this book is about," the teacher, Ms. Blake, told us, before turning to the board. I pulled out my notebook and began writing. "Mr. McCall?" Ms. Blake called. I exchanged a glance with Stiles before turning back to my paper. I continued writing—
Blood. There was blood on the window. A bird had crashed into the window. First the deer, Lydia's dog, which she'd called me about in a panic last night, and now a bird? Ms. Blake moved from the board to the window, eyes wide. Thousands of night-black birds were steadily flying towards us. Oh god. The first few crashed into the windows, but the next one went straight through it, and the others followed.
"Get down!" Ms. Blake screamed. Screaming and cawing filled the classroom, I felt talons pull out the stitches above my eye. I felt wings beating the top of my head and I stumbled onto the floor, whacking at the bird. A drop of blood dripped into my eye and I shook my head, wiping it furiously. Someone pushed me onto the floor and I spared a glance upward. Allison. Her arms covered my face, and vice-versa.
It was a good fifteen minutes before most of the birds flew into walls and killed themselves, or flew away. Blood was now steadily dripping down my face and the cut above my eye burned. Stiles was talking to Mr. Argent and my dad, I held a paper towel above my eye. Stiles stepped away to call Scott, telling him the whole story. I raised my eyebrows, giving him a look.
"We're going to Derek's."
"What happened to your eye?" Derek pointed to the still-bleeding cut.
"Birds ripped out the stitches," I snapped. He rolled his eyes, turning to Scott and staring at his arm. His green-gray eyes flickering red as he studied the werewolf's bicep.
"Yeah, I see it. Two bands, right?" he questioned. Scott nodded. "What does it mean?"
"I dunno… Just something I traced with my fingers," Scott shrugged.
"Why's it so important to you?"
"Derek, if you can't tell, I'm in need of medical attention, could you hurry this along?" I sneered. Derek turned to glare at me.
"I'll drive you to the hospital after we do this, if you shut up," he growled. I cursed under my breath and wiped at me eye, leaning on Stiles' shoulder.
"I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of… A reward," Scott quickly changed the subject.
"For what?" Derek raised his eyebrows.
"For not calling or texting Allison all summer…" Scott stared at the charred wood floor. "When I really wanted to… I wouldn't… It's so hard not to sometimes… I'm just trying to give her the space she wants. Four months later, it still hurts… It still feels like…" Scott trailed off.
"Like an open wound," I filled in. "Speaking of open wounds, I have this cut above my eye and I was dragged here—"
"Shut up!" Derek snapped, pulling a blowtorch off the table next to him. He turned to Scott. "Pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt."
"Guess that's our cue!" I walked behind Derek to leave. He pushed his hand into my stomach.
"Nope! Need your help holding him down," he gave me a push. I glared at the dark-haired werewolf. I went to stand behind Scott, along with Stiles. Derek flicked on the blowtorch and held it to Scott's arm. I flinched, looking away. Scott began to scream, eyes flashing yellow. "Hold him!" Derek yelled. Scott went limp and I jumped away.
After about an hour, Scott finally woke up, two blue-grey bands circled his arm.
"Looks pretty damn permanent to me," Stiles laughed. I nodded.
"Well, Derek, grab your keys, time for us to take a drive," I gave Derek a smug look. He sighed, grumbling to himself.
"Derek, why'd you paint the door?" Scott called. Derek froze. "Why only one side?"
"Go home, Scott," Derek shrugged. Scott lifted a hand to the door and clawed at the paint. "Scott!" Derek called again. My best friend continued clawing at the red paint until it was gone, and a strange black mark was revealed.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"Wait, the night I got run over by the deer, when I got bit by the Alpha!" Scott gasped. "How many are there?"
"A pack of them," Derek sighed. "They took Erica and Boyd. Isaac, Peter and I have been looking for them for four months."
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