*i already did this one, but deleted it and wanted to rewrite it into a better version. dont hate me!!!*
Scott: 1920
It was the height of the new era. World War 1 had just ended, leaving the world ready for a rebound. You had just freshly turned eighteen and moved across the country to Los Angeles, California. This was the town of wealth and fame. You had left your beautiful family in dreams of becoming the next Mary Pickford. The night you moved into the small house on the outerskirt of town, you left early to visit the large town at night. You had walked nearly a mile before reaching a bar. Bimbos and flappers roamed the streets, were lit with bright lights and signs. You fluffed off your sparkly dress, entering into the busy place. Flappers danced on the large stage while a jazz band played quiet background music. You strolled up to the bar, ordering a random drink. The bartender poured the liquor into a small cup and slid it over the bar to you.
"Oh this is ducky!" You cheered, swallowing it back. It was early in the night and it was a night for a good time. A man slid up along the bar next to you. He ordered a fancy drink, taking it down in less than a second.
"Good evening, doll." His eyes met with yours. Your cheeks turned into a rosy blush. He caught you admiring his beautiful features.
"Oh hello." You mumbled, sipping some more of your drink. The man checked you up and down, admiring your features.
"I'm Scott, Scott McCall." His hand spread out, ready to enlace with yours.
"Y/N Y/L/N." A grin danced onto your lips. You extended your hand to meet with his and he planted a kiss on it.
"Well, Miss/Mr Y/L/N, please let me have this honour to swing with you?" He begged, a smirk planted to his lips. You giggled like a little girl.
"I'd love to." You followed Scott to the dance floor.
Stiles: 1950
Poodle skirts and Greasers. It was that wonderful decade, and you were lucky to be a sixteen year old in it. You were a typical preppy, good girl who wore the poodle skirts and colourful cardigans. It was a late Saturday night. You and your girls had gone to the local diner for a late night shake. After the waitress had brought over the four milkshakes, you watched a group of greaser boys enter through the door. Greasers always intrigued you, but you knew your father would have a heart attack knowing that you watched those bad boys. You nudged your best friend who sat beside you.
"Look at them." You whispered, totally fascinated. One boy caught your eye in particular. He was flutter bum. You noticed his friends ever so often looking over your way until the boy that caught your eye strolled over to your table.
"Hey baby." He winked at you, causing a tint of pink to cover your cheeks. "Do you and your friends want to groove?" He nudged his head back to the boys around the jukebox. You faced your girls and they all excitedly agreed. You and the three had slid out of the booth, letting the greaser take your hand.
"I'm Y/N." You let him take you toward the empty tile space in the empty diner.
"My friends call me Stiles, but you can call me what you'd like." He slowly swayed with your body.
Derek: 1860
The ages of wealth. Lucky for you, you and your family had been a wealthy family. You and your parents had just moved to Beacon Hills, onto the Y/L/N Estate. Your grandfather had passed and left your father the property, and it was much better than your older estate back in Missouri. As your carriage pulled into the plantation, you noticed three people standing at your porch stairs. Your mother hopped out of the small carriage, speeding to hug one of the ladies. You got out and curtseyed to the three.
"Mrs Hale, this is my lovely daughter, Y/N." your mother proudly introduced you.
"Mrs Hale." You smiled gracefully. You faced the boy in the middle. He was dressed ever so nicely.
"Derek." He nodded, giving you a wholesome smile.
"Mr Derek." You slightly curtseyed once again. Derek's eyes kept monitor on you, as you introduced yourself to "Miss Cora." He was ever so intrigued. Your mother, father, Mrs Hale and Miss Cora had gone into the estate, leaving Mr Derek and you alone.
"So, Miss Y/N, where is your family coming from?" His accent was different than yours. You walked along side of him.
"Missouri, a very small town in Missouri." You smiled. You knew you would like Mr Derek. He was a kind gentlemen with a nice smile.
Isaac: 1990
The years of Rock and Roll. Fashion was evolving and times were changing. You were a very average, nineties teen. You listened to nirvana and wore Nike windbreakers. Average was your middle name. You had a small friend group at school and you stayed away from drama. It wasn't until the first day of grade 12 that you were not just an average nineties girl. That Tuesday was the day you met Isaac Lahey. Isaac was a rocker boy. He was a full fledged bad boy who did what he wanted and he had found interest in someone as average as you. You sat in History class when you saw the leather jacket appear in the doorway.
"Mr Lahey. Please take a seat." The boy sat down in the empty desk beside you. The class flew by and at the end, the teacher called you to stay behind, with Isaac.
"Yes?" You waited for the teacher to dismiss the awkward tension.
"Id like you to watch over Mr Lahey." Isaac was almost as taken back as you were.
"Uhm I can look after myself." Isaac have a snarky remark. The teacher rolled his eyes.
"Isaac. Meet Y/N." He forced you to watch this new boy, which actually ended up being a success for both of you. You found out tons about the boy.
