Author's Notes: Hey guys. I know I should be updating Ever More So; however, unfortunately, I've suddenly lost inspiration in middle of writing Chapter 13(?) so until I've regained it, it will be postponed. Sorry everyone. But for you Teen Wolf, especially Derek Hale fangirls, fans, I'm writing a fanfiction for this fandom! So be happy 'cause I promised to write solely Young Justice or anything comic book or cartoon related until Atticus Mathews and Tyler Hoechlin come along! And now I'm writing fanfictions about them! Before I continue, this will be updated every Monday after I watch each new episode.

Has anyone else seen the latest episode? I just finished watching it and it's on again right now. I totally wanted Scott to rip Eric to fucking pieces, and I was screaming and flipping out and etc. I was so pissed off at Derek in the beginning, but then he flashed his fucking perfect smile and it just all seemed to fade away. Weird, right? Yeah, I thought so, too. ONLY DICK GRAYSON SHOULD BE MAKING FEEL THIS WAY! D: Anyway, it's so hard to be mad at Derek... he's just so perfect. I really hope he stops what he's doing 'cause that Alpha shiz is getting to his head. 3_3 Yeah.

To the story...?

Chapter 1:

"the ice rink"

To be honest, when I thought moving back to Beacon Hills would be the best thing to ever happen to me because, you know, my older brother, Scott, was there, Stiles, his best friend, was there, his girlfriend, Allison, sounded really nice and she was there, and everyone there seemed nice. But Scott clearly forgot to fucking mention there are fucking WEREWOLVES in fucking Beacon Hills!

How do I know this? Well, because that fine piece of man named Derek Hale (know him? Oh, yeaaah. He's absolutely delicious.) just beat up my brother in an ice rink, and he's possibly bleeding internally because there's blood coming from his. Derek's blood red eyes focus on me as I stand, frozen solid in my own terror, and his canines shift into a smirk.

He begins to walk towards me, and my mind is screaming at me to GET THE FUCK OUT THERE BEFORE HE TURNS YOU INTO A DOGbutmy body refuses to listen to my brain. Scott is trying to get up, but he's in utter pain so he can't.

He chooses to instead roar," STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!" while growling and baring his bloody teeth. Derek ignores him and continues to walk towards me, his wolf-like face morphing back into its human version. Yet his eyes are still red. He gives a one-up, and it sends shudders down my spine.

"You know, I would love to bite you just to piss off Scott, but it's a bit too late for that," he says, grinning cockily. "See you soon, Jessie."

The way my name rolls off his tongue makes it sound like sex itself, and I flush, gritting my teeth in irritation. Derek's two lackeys get up and chase after him, the blonde chick glowering at me. Boyd follows, giving me a knowing and sympathetic gaze. I shakily watch them go before turning tail to Scott, silently praying that he was alright.

"Oh my fucking God, Scott," I mumble, staring at his injuries on his stomach in shock. "What the hell drove you not to tell me about this?"

"It was to protect you, Jessie," Scott whispers, gazing at me with brotherly affection," from Derek, from this life I was forced to deal with. I didn't want you have to face it. I already have too many people involved, I didn't want you or Mom to be involved like everyone else. Please, Jessica, you have to understand." His tone, his eyes, his facial expression, his body language, Scott was pleading, and he was completing it with a puppy dog face.

Fuck.

He knows I'm weak to that. Sighing in defeat, I nod my head to show I understood and help him stand, eyeing his wounds.

"So... what are we gonna tell Mom?" I ask after a somewhat awkward silence. Scott follows my gaze to the slashes, and he sighed.

"Nothing 'cause she won't know." He answers, giving me a pointed look. I nod, catching his drift.

"Right. Don't tell Mom anything." I step over a large dog shit. "Any other silent guidelines I need to for having a werewolf for a brother?" Scott cracks a smile.

"I'll let you know when I make some up." I roll my eyes sarcastically but my playful smile give me away.

And we remain like that for the rest of the time, acting as if Scott wasn't a mutated dog and I hadn't seen Derek Hale and his groupies.

Life at that moment... was heaven.

But of course, fucking Derek Hale had to ruin, didn't he? GODDAMMIT! I stifle a scream as said Alpha steps into my hotel room, observing it with small interest before he settles his gaze on me. His lips grin, and I find myself paralyzed. What the fuck is this man doing to me?

"What do you want?" I snap, annoyed. He chuckles.

"Brave, acting tough even though you saw only half of what I'm capable of," he states, grinning wolfishly (excuse the pun). "Cute."

I blinked once or twice in shock. Had he, Derek Hale, my brother's arch-nemesis, called me cute? Well then, two can play at the game, Mr. Big Bad Wolf.

"Well, I'm not scared of the Big Bad Wolf," I retort sharply as we circle each other. "Little Red is rather more curious than terrified."

He barks out a hoarse laugh. "Right, and I suppose I'm the Big Bad Wolf, and you're curious, naive Little Red Riding Hood? An amazing observation, Jessica, only I'm not going to eat you. Or in this case, bite you." His grin turns perverse. "Unless you want me to."

"Oh, go fuck yourself, Hale," I fold my arms. He smirks. "Not in that way!"

"I wasn't thinking like that. I'm not the one with a dirty mouth." He winks.

I crinkle my nose. What the hell did he want?

"What I want?" He says, arching a brow. I gasp. Shit, did I say that out loud? "I just want to talk. You and I haven't talked since we first met. Nor have I properly introduced myself." He's in front of me, holding out his hand expectantly. "Allow me. I'm Derek Hale, as you know, the Alpha in Beacon Hills."

He grasps my right hand in his tightly, sending a jolt of electricity down my spinal cord suddenly. Both of our eyes widen momentarily, but I jerk my hand from his almost instantly when we come back.

"Jessica McCall." I mutter quietly, eyeing him suspiciously. He seems to be doing the same, but his eyes meet mine intensely. The depth of his dark brown hues are never-ending, and I can almost drown in them. I'm about to, but I catch myself. I shake my head. "You need to go." But he's already gone.

Approaching the now open window, I watch as a sleek, black Camaro drives away. I grab a random pillow and scream in it as loud as I can. Fucking fuckity fuck! We're not Romeo and Juliet!