a combination of collapsed memories

simone, i am eighteen, queer/female
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kate centric fic - the events leading up to the hale fire for jacksonisasub
implied chris/kate, derek/kate, underage, pg-13, ~600 words

She traces his skin. She does not cry. In the cold nights she doesn’t speak a word. He doesn’t say her name; she doesn’t respond.

“Hello.” “Hello.” “Good night. “Night.”

Short exchanges and a bitter taste in her mouth. She takes it away with the grit of toothpaste and the steam of a hot shower. She considers herself. She drives miles at night and eventually arrives at Chris’ in the dead of the night, sneaks up on him outside on the porch, grabs him by the collar just to give him a good scare.

(And she thinks she’s young.)

“Dirty,” he once snarled at her, her own father, and she had snapped her shoulders back, stood tall. He never believed in her, told her all sorts of lies and coiled her around and around when she was so young, taught her how to shoot a shotgun, how to kill fast and hard with a small pocket knife.

Chris often touches her shoulders – sometimes he even says her name (“Kate…” with hesitance) – and she remembers how much she hates it, shrugs him off. Her name is so feminine, her grandmother’s name, the name of a woman who never knew about werewolves, never knew about the darkness, probably sewed all her life, played the role of a woman.

Kate refuses.

-

He kisses her.


Derek Hale.

He is all youth and strong muscle. Stubble on his chin and cheeks, like he knows he’s going to grow too fast. Things are about to speed up.

What will this do? Get her a way in. She tries to think about it in terms – in terms of an endgame.

Bad, bad, bad.

Wolves are bad. Killers. The Hales are all killers. Peter and Laura and Derek and all of them. Derek’s parents. His cousins. Anyone else.

All of them. Murderers.

Worse than her. Psychotic. She’s just doing her job. They’re warped, monsters, beautiful on the outside and stunning on the inside. Ridiculous, how drawn she is to him.

He’s too young. Much too young.

He’d call her dirty again. Maybe even call her a whore if he knew. But no – this time she’s going to win Daddy’s affection. Make him love her again.

“Chris, please,” she begs with him.

“No. I won’t be a part of it.” His wife knows. About the wolves at least.

She tears away as fast as she can.

Derek thinks she’s funny. Thinks she’s witty and charming. He doesn’t care if she’s got a hint of darkness. In fact he seems to thrive off of it.

Not in love. She could never fall in love with something so skinny and awkward, something so inhuman and desperate. He kisses her like she’s the only thing he can see or feel, and she tries to imitate it but never can, not fully. He’ll never know what it feels like. He won’t die in the fire; he’ll survive because there’s no way he’ll be there.

Because she won’t let him.

Something won’t let her plan it.

He tells her. Spills his guts. His family. Lets her in on every last detail because he’s young, because he’s so convinced that he can trust her. She wants him to be able to. She wants to hear him say her name and then laugh after it. She wants to feel safe.

She doesn’t.

They aren’t human. Derek isn’t human.

Humanity is all she has left. Maybe she’s a bag of psycho, maybe she’s insane at the very core of her fucking being; she doesn’t know.

All she knows is this is it. This is the last time.

She’ll find him again when he’s guilty.

15 +
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