Stiles Stilinski x Reader. (Rewrite of the series: season 2)

Chapter 29*

(Third POV)

"You really thought I would do this using prescription pills?" Victoria asks, looking at the pills her husband had given her. "According to gender statistics, most women—" Chris starts, but stops when he sees the look on his wife's face. "But you're not most women." He then continues, holding her cheek.

"I'll go upstairs and write the letter." Victoria says, walking away and leaving Chris and Gerard alone in the room. "Don't hesitate because of Allison. She'll feel the ground shifting beneath her feet time and time again in her life. It is our job to teach her how to keep standing." Gerard says coldly.

"The ground isn't shifting-- it's crumbling." Chris says sighing. "You want easy? Change your last name. Otherwise, go up there and help your wife die with dignity..." Gerard exclaims impatiently. "Because if she doesn't fall on her own sword, one of us is gonna have to run her through." Gerard says again coldly.

...

Lydia walks over to Scott, who is standing alone alongside the pool. She offers him a glass of her punch, but he refuses. "Uh, I can't drink tonight..." Scott says, shaking his head at her. "All right, what is with the two of you?" Lydia asks exasperatedly.

"Oh, no, Stiles is drinking." Scott says awkwardly, not sure of what she meant. "Not Stiles-- you and Allison." Lydia says, making Scott raise his eyebrow In confusion. "I don't care why you have to keep your little love affair so secret, but right here and now seems like the perfect time just... to have a good time." She says again.

"You know something? You're right." Scott says, grabbing the drink from Lydia's hand. He slowly takes a sip, tasting the liquid in the glass. He then looks back at Lydia with a smile. "See? Isn't it good?" Lydia says smirking, watching Scott take another sip. "...Actually, yeah. Really good." Scott says happily.

...

Lydia walks over to Mark, handing him a glass of her punch. He awkwardly accepts and watches her leave with a confused look. He then turns around and sees Allison, they share a small look. Allison then sighs and walks over to him.

"You get two minutes." Allison says, leading him into another room where the music isn't as loud. "Okay...Uh, right." He says when he sees that she wasn't kidding. "So, I know I took some pictures of you that I should've told you about... But is it really that bad that-that I think you're beautiful, and I think you should be the subject of a perfect photograph?" Mark asks her awkwardly.

"Um, Mark, some of those pictures, I... I don't even know how you took them." Allison says uncomfortably. "Telephoto lens. I mean, come on, Allison-- photographers call them "candids." Mark says, making Allison frown. "Well, police call it "stalking." She says, making him look at her confused.

"Stalking? So, I'm-I'm a stalker now, that's-is that it? You-you think my bedroom is wallpapered with your photos? You think I'm the kind of guy that's gonna say something, like, "Well, if I can't have you, no one can!" Mark says scoffing.

"Well, you know what? Get over yourself, because there's another pretty girl walking through the room every five minutes." Mark says, making Allison scoff at him. "Well, then, all you have to do is wait for another three. Good luck." Allison says coldly, turning to walk away. "Allison, wait—" Mark says, stopping her. She grabs his arm and pulls it against his back, tackling him to the ground.

He groans and looks back up at her in confusion and bewilderment. "What is the matter with you?" Mark asks exasperatedly, groaning from pain. "I'm sorry. I'm so-I'm so sorry." Allison says stammering, walking away quickly.