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120_minutenTitel: Mine
Challenge: #3 The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Charaktere: Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: ≈1900
Warnungen: Ein Charakter mit PTSD und Panikattacken aufgrund von vergangener Misshandlung
Widmung:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
der_jemand als verspätetes Geburtstagsgeschenk
Kommentar: Ich fühl mich ja doch ein bisschen schlecht, meine eigenen Challenges zu erfüllen… aber die Idee kam mir erst hinterher! Und ich hätte auch nicht gedacht, dass meine erste Teen-Wolf-Fic gerade ein Erica/Isaac-AU wird, aber here we are.
She doesn’t notice anything off about the new boy until she gets close to him for the first time.
Mine
She doesn’t notice anything off about the new boy until she gets close to him for the first time.
She’s on her way to her usual spot in the back of chemistry class when she passes his seat, and she smells it. It’s almost like a dog, but not, a wild, savage scent that has no business being here, in the classroom, in the one place she has dared to feel safe.
She whips around, and their eyes meet. By the way all the muscles in his body tense up, she knows he noticed her, too.
Usually her response to a threat is much like that of a cat: Make yourself bigger than you are and look so mean no one will bother to mess with you. It works well enough for the strays passing through, as well as the bullies that prowl the average American high school.
So she draws herself up as much as she can, pulls her shoulders back and pushes her chest out. It’s no easy feat to look tall when you’re only 5’8’’, but he’s seated and she’s not, which works to her advantage. She congratulates herself on the blood red lipstick she picked this morning as she pulls her lips back just enough to show some teeth. She’s ready to stare him down right here and now.
Except the boy - Isaac, she remembers, his name is Isaac - seems to have a different approach entirely. He breaks eye-contact and ducks his head, making himself as small as possible.
It’s a clear sign of surrender, and the easy win throws her off. Usually there’s a lot more posturing involved, until one or both parties slowly back away, never leaving the other out of sight.
For a moment she just stands there, until she becomes aware of the classmate glaring at her because she’s blocking the way. She gives back the meanest look she can manage, and maybe her eyes shift colour for a moment, because the girl actually takes a step back. Then she makes her way to her seat.
She spends the rest of chemistry staring at his back. By the way he shifts, she’s certain he knows it, too.
They stay out of each other’s way for the next few days, while Erica turns over the problem in her head. This is not a stray passing through, if he’s in school, he must be here to stay. It’s the first time someone has intruded into her territory like this, and it makes her anxious. What if he’s here with a pack that might run her off?
So she keeps an eye out, but Isaac doesn’t seem to have any friends, and Mrs. Lahey, who picks him up every day after school, looks decidedly un-werewolf-y. There are no signs in town either, no new scents, no one howling at night.
Just him then, she decides after a week where nothing happens, a loner just like her. Someone who doesn’t want a pack, or who isn’t wanted.
She puts herself firmly into the first category. She’s tried to submit to an alpha, but it’s not in her nature. Sooner or later, her insubordination would have gotten her killed. Better an omega on her own, or whatever the hell she is, than a beta in a pack.
She wonders idly which one it is for him.
She keeps an eye on him. She reasons with herself that he might still be a threat, that she might have to figure out a way to get rid of him, to send him back to wherever the hell he came from, mom and all. But it's plain to see Isaac is not a threat, at least not to anybody but himself.
At first she thinks it’s her that sends him into a frenzy, that makes his heart beat so fast and loud that she can hear it across the room and sometimes even down the hall. It almost makes her feel bad that he is so afraid of her (“And I didn’t even do anything yet”, she mumbles to herself). So she tries to appease him, gives him a slight smile in the halls and once even helps to pick up the books he managed to scatter onto the floor. She imagines that his shoulders relax slightly around her even while she can’t help but notice the way his hands shake as he picks up the math book.
Then she considers that it’s fear of discovery that keeps him so wound up. It’s a feeling she knows well, even if it faded quickly for her, because humans are just SO goddamn blind. But maybe he’s new and has yet to learn this. She shows off some of her superior skills in P.E. in the hope that her confidence will rub off on him.
It takes Mr. Carlson yelling at him in history because he zoned out for the second time that day until she figures it out. It’s not her, and it’s not being a werewolf. It’s not a supernatural thing at all, but something older, deeper, a psychological wound that makes Isaac curl up in his chair, looking by all means like he’d rather hide beneath the table if he’d just fit.
She watches him afterwards as he wills his hands to be steady again, as he digs his fingernails into the inside of his palms in an effort to slow his rapid breathing.
She’s taken by surprise at the way that makes her feel, the red-hot anger that rises within her and seeks a target. She wants to kill the people that hurt him, she wants to skin them alive. It takes all of her control not to leap out of her seat and slam her history book into Mr. Carlson’s face.
After that she sees it all: The small flinches, the fact that he always tries to keep the person he deems most threatening (mostly men) in his line of sight, the way he always tries to make himself smaller than he is (not an easy feat either when you’re about 6’1’’ and a half).
This is none of my business, she tells herself, but it feels like it is.
It comes to a head one day after school.
It’s one of those guys Erica got off her back months ago, but Isaac seems to have a target painted on his, and the more he tries to go unnoticed, the more he gets picked on. Away from the prying eyes of teachers and classmates alike, this guy thinks it’s a good idea to push the new kid around a bit.
She doesn’t usually pass the lacrosse field on her way home, but her supernatural ears pick up Isaac’s “Leave me alone” and the rapid flutter of his pulse like it’s a homing beacon.
She might laugh about the scene later, the way this stupid high school bully shoves a guy that could rip him apart in a second. For a moment she looks at Isaac and wonders if he can feel it, too, those twitching fingers that want to tear into the enemy, and a small part off her wants to wait until he does, to finally show him his own strength.
But it’s one thing to do it and another to live with it, and besides, losing control is really not something Isaac needs more off. Even right now, his quick, sharp intakes of breath tell her that he’s headed straight for a panic attack.
She doesn’t have a plan. She’s gotten good at scaring people off, but she tries to stay out of direct confrontations because she might do something she’ll regret.
She breathes in deep. “Hey ASSHOLE.”
The guy turns around so quickly he almost gets whiplash. Erica is fairly sure that she could put a name to that face if she tried harder, but she doesn’t.
“Heey, Erica, what’s up”, he says in that slow drawl that makes her want to throttle him. He throws a glance back at Isaac, who stands rooted to the spot. “This your girlfriend, coming to rescue you?”
She waits until his attention is back on her. Then she says, in her quietest and most dangerous voice: “Leave now.”
For a moment he just stares at her while his grin is slowly slipping off his face. She holds the gaze, and she puts it all into that look: I will break all the bones in your body. I will tear your skin off with my bare hands. I will rip your throat out with my teeth. Her hands are trembling fists at her side, and she’s not sure if that’s still her fingernails or claws digging into her skin.
She can almost see the contradicting images warring in his head: His eyes show him the blonde teenage girl that he could knock down with one blow, while some deeply-rooted instinct is screaming at him that she’s a predator who will eat him alive.
His instincts win. She watches him turn tail and run, probably breaking the speed record on the field.
Isaac is still standing in the same spot. There’s something akin to amazement on his face before he turns towards here, in which moment she can tell he’s asking himself if he just got out of the frying pan and into the fire.
She wills herself to smile, and extends her hand. "I'm Erica."
He looks at her hand like it might bite him, but just when she considers pulling it back, he takes it. "Isaac." He let’s go quickly again, but it’s a start.
“I already know that”, is on the tip of her tongue.
She’s not quite sure what to do with him. This close, his beating heart sounds like a hammer, and he’s still breathing like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. If he continues like this, he might pass out, werewolf or not.
His eyes look blue and very vulnerable.
It’s pure instinct that draws her in, overruling any human convention. She reaches up to put one hand into his neck and pull his trembling body against hers.
To her surprise, he doesn’t struggle against her grip, but follows obediently, leaning into her like she’s the only thing that’s keeping him grounded. It should be awkward with him almost a head taller than her, but it feels natural, it feels right.
“Shh, puppy, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just breathe, okay? In and out. Just like that.”
She doesn’t pay attention to the words that easily flow out of her, only to the pulse she can feel beneath her fingertips and the way his breath fans out over her cheek. Her other hand takes hold of his, trying to soothe those trembling fingers.
The smallest whimper escapes him, and she tightens her grip, pulling his head against her shoulder. His scent fills her nose, but this time it’s not threatening, only familiar.
She listens to his slowing heartbeat and thinks: "This one is mine now".
Challenge: #3 The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Charaktere: Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: ≈1900
Warnungen: Ein Charakter mit PTSD und Panikattacken aufgrund von vergangener Misshandlung
Widmung:
der_jemand als verspätetes GeburtstagsgeschenkKommentar: Ich fühl mich ja doch ein bisschen schlecht, meine eigenen Challenges zu erfüllen… aber die Idee kam mir erst hinterher! Und ich hätte auch nicht gedacht, dass meine erste Teen-Wolf-Fic gerade ein Erica/Isaac-AU wird, aber here we are.
She doesn’t notice anything off about the new boy until she gets close to him for the first time.
Mine
She doesn’t notice anything off about the new boy until she gets close to him for the first time.
She’s on her way to her usual spot in the back of chemistry class when she passes his seat, and she smells it. It’s almost like a dog, but not, a wild, savage scent that has no business being here, in the classroom, in the one place she has dared to feel safe.
She whips around, and their eyes meet. By the way all the muscles in his body tense up, she knows he noticed her, too.
Usually her response to a threat is much like that of a cat: Make yourself bigger than you are and look so mean no one will bother to mess with you. It works well enough for the strays passing through, as well as the bullies that prowl the average American high school.
So she draws herself up as much as she can, pulls her shoulders back and pushes her chest out. It’s no easy feat to look tall when you’re only 5’8’’, but he’s seated and she’s not, which works to her advantage. She congratulates herself on the blood red lipstick she picked this morning as she pulls her lips back just enough to show some teeth. She’s ready to stare him down right here and now.
Except the boy - Isaac, she remembers, his name is Isaac - seems to have a different approach entirely. He breaks eye-contact and ducks his head, making himself as small as possible.
It’s a clear sign of surrender, and the easy win throws her off. Usually there’s a lot more posturing involved, until one or both parties slowly back away, never leaving the other out of sight.
For a moment she just stands there, until she becomes aware of the classmate glaring at her because she’s blocking the way. She gives back the meanest look she can manage, and maybe her eyes shift colour for a moment, because the girl actually takes a step back. Then she makes her way to her seat.
She spends the rest of chemistry staring at his back. By the way he shifts, she’s certain he knows it, too.
They stay out of each other’s way for the next few days, while Erica turns over the problem in her head. This is not a stray passing through, if he’s in school, he must be here to stay. It’s the first time someone has intruded into her territory like this, and it makes her anxious. What if he’s here with a pack that might run her off?
So she keeps an eye out, but Isaac doesn’t seem to have any friends, and Mrs. Lahey, who picks him up every day after school, looks decidedly un-werewolf-y. There are no signs in town either, no new scents, no one howling at night.
Just him then, she decides after a week where nothing happens, a loner just like her. Someone who doesn’t want a pack, or who isn’t wanted.
She puts herself firmly into the first category. She’s tried to submit to an alpha, but it’s not in her nature. Sooner or later, her insubordination would have gotten her killed. Better an omega on her own, or whatever the hell she is, than a beta in a pack.
She wonders idly which one it is for him.
She keeps an eye on him. She reasons with herself that he might still be a threat, that she might have to figure out a way to get rid of him, to send him back to wherever the hell he came from, mom and all. But it's plain to see Isaac is not a threat, at least not to anybody but himself.
At first she thinks it’s her that sends him into a frenzy, that makes his heart beat so fast and loud that she can hear it across the room and sometimes even down the hall. It almost makes her feel bad that he is so afraid of her (“And I didn’t even do anything yet”, she mumbles to herself). So she tries to appease him, gives him a slight smile in the halls and once even helps to pick up the books he managed to scatter onto the floor. She imagines that his shoulders relax slightly around her even while she can’t help but notice the way his hands shake as he picks up the math book.
Then she considers that it’s fear of discovery that keeps him so wound up. It’s a feeling she knows well, even if it faded quickly for her, because humans are just SO goddamn blind. But maybe he’s new and has yet to learn this. She shows off some of her superior skills in P.E. in the hope that her confidence will rub off on him.
It takes Mr. Carlson yelling at him in history because he zoned out for the second time that day until she figures it out. It’s not her, and it’s not being a werewolf. It’s not a supernatural thing at all, but something older, deeper, a psychological wound that makes Isaac curl up in his chair, looking by all means like he’d rather hide beneath the table if he’d just fit.
She watches him afterwards as he wills his hands to be steady again, as he digs his fingernails into the inside of his palms in an effort to slow his rapid breathing.
She’s taken by surprise at the way that makes her feel, the red-hot anger that rises within her and seeks a target. She wants to kill the people that hurt him, she wants to skin them alive. It takes all of her control not to leap out of her seat and slam her history book into Mr. Carlson’s face.
After that she sees it all: The small flinches, the fact that he always tries to keep the person he deems most threatening (mostly men) in his line of sight, the way he always tries to make himself smaller than he is (not an easy feat either when you’re about 6’1’’ and a half).
This is none of my business, she tells herself, but it feels like it is.
It comes to a head one day after school.
It’s one of those guys Erica got off her back months ago, but Isaac seems to have a target painted on his, and the more he tries to go unnoticed, the more he gets picked on. Away from the prying eyes of teachers and classmates alike, this guy thinks it’s a good idea to push the new kid around a bit.
She doesn’t usually pass the lacrosse field on her way home, but her supernatural ears pick up Isaac’s “Leave me alone” and the rapid flutter of his pulse like it’s a homing beacon.
She might laugh about the scene later, the way this stupid high school bully shoves a guy that could rip him apart in a second. For a moment she looks at Isaac and wonders if he can feel it, too, those twitching fingers that want to tear into the enemy, and a small part off her wants to wait until he does, to finally show him his own strength.
But it’s one thing to do it and another to live with it, and besides, losing control is really not something Isaac needs more off. Even right now, his quick, sharp intakes of breath tell her that he’s headed straight for a panic attack.
She doesn’t have a plan. She’s gotten good at scaring people off, but she tries to stay out of direct confrontations because she might do something she’ll regret.
She breathes in deep. “Hey ASSHOLE.”
The guy turns around so quickly he almost gets whiplash. Erica is fairly sure that she could put a name to that face if she tried harder, but she doesn’t.
“Heey, Erica, what’s up”, he says in that slow drawl that makes her want to throttle him. He throws a glance back at Isaac, who stands rooted to the spot. “This your girlfriend, coming to rescue you?”
She waits until his attention is back on her. Then she says, in her quietest and most dangerous voice: “Leave now.”
For a moment he just stares at her while his grin is slowly slipping off his face. She holds the gaze, and she puts it all into that look: I will break all the bones in your body. I will tear your skin off with my bare hands. I will rip your throat out with my teeth. Her hands are trembling fists at her side, and she’s not sure if that’s still her fingernails or claws digging into her skin.
She can almost see the contradicting images warring in his head: His eyes show him the blonde teenage girl that he could knock down with one blow, while some deeply-rooted instinct is screaming at him that she’s a predator who will eat him alive.
His instincts win. She watches him turn tail and run, probably breaking the speed record on the field.
Isaac is still standing in the same spot. There’s something akin to amazement on his face before he turns towards here, in which moment she can tell he’s asking himself if he just got out of the frying pan and into the fire.
She wills herself to smile, and extends her hand. "I'm Erica."
He looks at her hand like it might bite him, but just when she considers pulling it back, he takes it. "Isaac." He let’s go quickly again, but it’s a start.
“I already know that”, is on the tip of her tongue.
She’s not quite sure what to do with him. This close, his beating heart sounds like a hammer, and he’s still breathing like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. If he continues like this, he might pass out, werewolf or not.
His eyes look blue and very vulnerable.
It’s pure instinct that draws her in, overruling any human convention. She reaches up to put one hand into his neck and pull his trembling body against hers.
To her surprise, he doesn’t struggle against her grip, but follows obediently, leaning into her like she’s the only thing that’s keeping him grounded. It should be awkward with him almost a head taller than her, but it feels natural, it feels right.
“Shh, puppy, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just breathe, okay? In and out. Just like that.”
She doesn’t pay attention to the words that easily flow out of her, only to the pulse she can feel beneath her fingertips and the way his breath fans out over her cheek. Her other hand takes hold of his, trying to soothe those trembling fingers.
The smallest whimper escapes him, and she tightens her grip, pulling his head against her shoulder. His scent fills her nose, but this time it’s not threatening, only familiar.
She listens to his slowing heartbeat and thinks: "This one is mine now".
no subject
Date: 2020-12-11 05:18 pm (UTC)Ich weiß, du hattest ursprünglich andere Pläne als "World Building", aber das hier ist so viel besser als ich mir anderes vorstellen könnte, vom ersten Treffen und Imponiergehabe über ihre Analyse bis hin zum "Jepp, meins". Und wie du da neben rationalen Überlegungen einfach immer mindestens 70% Werwolfinstinkte neben laufen hast... Passt gut zu Werwölfen, passt noch besser zu den Charakteren. *__*
She can almost see the contradicting images warring in his head: His eyes show him the blonde teenage girl that he could knock down with one blow, while some deeply-rooted instinct is screaming at him that she’s a predator who will eat him alive.
Ich meine, fuck, das ist so gut! Ich mag die Darstellung und überhaupt und sowieso. <3(Kohärente Sätze sind aus.)
Nur ein Problem hab ich:
It’s no easy feat to look tall when you’re only 5’8’’
Ernsthaft?! Ich habe mich selten so klein gefühlt wie beim Lesen dieses Satzes. X'D
Much appreciated für die Parallele am Ende, aber... ERNSTHAFT!
no subject
Date: 2020-12-11 05:19 pm (UTC)Es ist ein wundervolles Geburtstagsgeschenk. <3