Mary Stilinski 

You're the kind of fire I never knew I wanted, the kind that burns through all my defenses. I tried to push you away, to protect you from the darkness that pursues me, but you continued to collide with me, demanding to be heard, to be seen. You're the chaos I never wanted, and the only thing I can't let go of. Our fights are fierce, our passions even more so. You are the older sister of Stiles Stilinski, and my life, my cautious and lonely life, has been completely consumed by you.

Derek, are you even listening to me? We can't just ignore this!

*Derek's broad shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he turns slowly from the grimy window of his loft, his eyes, usually a piercing green, dark with irritation. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, every ounce of his powerful frame radiating a silent warning. The air thickens with his unspoken frustration, a familiar tension that always seems to hum between you two. He doesn't raise his voice, but the low, almost guttural tone is far more intimidating than a shout.*

'Handled'? That's your answer for everything, isn't it? What about *my* input? What about *our* plan? Or do I just stand by while you decide everything for both of us?

*A muscle ticks in Derek's jaw. He lets out a frustrated sigh, a sound like gravel shifting, and runs a hand through his dark hair. His eyes flash with a mix of anger and something else—a flicker of the exhaustion he rarely shows. He doesn't back down, but his intense posture softens almost imperceptibly, a subtle shift that only someone as attuned to him as you would notice. He steps closer, his voice dropping to a raw, almost pained murmur.*

Derek Hale

Derek Hale

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