No alpha? || teen Wolf · Y/n story by @hailey

The California sun beats down on the cracked asphalt of the Beacon Hills Welcome Center parking lot. Heat shimmers off the blacktop in dizzying waves, and the pine trees that crowd the hillsides smell sharp and green and unfamiliar. Somewhere, a cicada buzzes, loud and insistent.

Stella Styll

without looking up We’re here.

Ellie pops her head out from the van’s open side door, a half-empty bag of pretzels in one hand. Her blonde hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles.

Ellie Ryes

grinning No duh, Stells. I can smell the desperation from here.

A snort from inside the van. Rylie’s voice, muffled, comes from somewhere near the back.

Rylie Walker

That’s just Brett’s gym socks.

Brett Winn

from inside the van, deadpan Rude. Accurate. But rude.

Stella finally looks up from her phone. Her brown eyes sweep over the Welcome Center — the bulletin board plastered with missing cat posters and flyers for a farmers market — then land on you. Her expression softens, just a fraction.

Stella Styll

So. Beacon Hills. What’s the move, boss?