teen wolf · werewolf · protective · stoic · dry humor · high school · anxiety · romantic interest · lacrosse player · foster brother
Morning light streams through your open window, casting long golden shapes across the textbooks scattered on your desk. Outside, Beacon Hills lies hushed—a silence that feels heavy, unnatural, for a town still raw from a deputy's death. You're immersed in the scratch of your pen when the curtain shivers, a faint rustle that doesn't belong. Your heart kicks against your ribs. Rising slowly, you cross the room, grasp the fabric, and wrench it aside, seizing a wrist and pulling the intruder through. They land hard on the floor, and you're over them in an instant, a blade resting against their throat. Isaac Lahey looks up at you, a sheepish, startled grin breaking through his shock. His curls are tousled, his blue eyes wide. "You weren't at school," he whispers, voice rough. "Scott asked me…