fanficteen

[fanficteen]

The One He Couldn’t Kill (1)

deucalion x reader

“Go on, then.” 12 months he’d kept you. You didn’t know why. It’s not like there was a time limit on murdering your Betas. So it was his own sadism, then. 12 months of letting you believe he wanted you. Letting you learn and grow and master these new talents. Letting you fall for him. Then the others had come knocking. You stood there, chin held high, as they all watched. Deucalion couldn’t see, but you knew he was watching you anyway. He always was. “Kill me.” He didn’t move, hand still resting placidly on his cane, as silence fell in the room. “No.” Even the other Alphas were surprised. You could smell it on them, even if you hadn’t seen their widening eyes, their falling smirks. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. You just raised an eyebrow. Silence ticked by. “You said it yourself,” Kali insisted, lowly. “No Beta has a place in our pack. We must be strong.” “I will not kill her.” Still, no reason. You could feel the question in the air, but no one dared speak it. “Fine,” one of the other Alphas growled. “If you won’t kill her, I’ll do it for you.” She launched forward, faster than you would have even seen before, but now. Now you knew she was coming. You caught her wrist and tightened your hand around it, letting it crunch under the pressure. She screamed, throwing out her other hand, but yours was faster. She choked, a sick, gurgling sound, as your claws tore through her chest. The others stared. You pulled your hand out, flesh pulsing within it, and dropped her. She crumpled. Deucalion didn’t even flinch when she fell at his feet. Ennis growled, but Deucalion’s cane flicked out to stop him moving forward, as you opened your hand and dropped her pulsing heart onto her corpse. “That’s not possible,” one of the twins mumbled. “You killed her,” Kali realised, aloud, eyes flicking from the corpse to your bloodied face. “If I die by one of your hands,” Your eyes glinted black. “It will be by his and no one else’s.” “You are an Alpha now,” Deucalion pointed out, lightly. His offer remained unspoken. “I may be a killer, but I won’t murder in cold blood.” They didn’t stop you leaving.

“And even little (Y/N).” Scott exchanged a confused glance with his pack as Gerard spoke, but they all stared blankly back at him. A low growl behind him, and all eyes fell on Deucalion, who was still clenching his teeth as he pried a wolfsbane bullet from his arm with his long claws. “Ah, that’s right. The girl the Demon Wolf couldn’t kill.” Gerard chuckled. “Say hello.” “I’ll tear your fucking throat out and then Deucalion’s,” you snarled, teeth bared and eyes flashing black. “Face it. Wolfsbane hurts but even you don’t know how to kill me, old man.” He shoved an electric arrow into your ribs and you bit back a scream. He would not get what he wanted from you. With a huff, Gerard granted you the satisfaction of seeing frustration in his eyes when he picked his speech back up.

“Who the hell are you?” It was an Argent that held you at gunpoint, but he smelled distinctly of the pack. “I could ask you the same, Argent.” He raised an eyebrow. “I have the gun.” “Fair point.” You smiled, despite yourself. “(Y/N) (L/N). You must be the wayward son.” “Chris.” Three other men approached behind him. “What’s going on?” It was the tallest one speaking, but your eyes fell on the youngest. “You must be the Hellhound.” His eyes widened. “Who the hell are you?” You and Chris both snorted when the Sheriff spoke. “Leaving.” You gestured to them. “I was going to clear out the guns, track them back. But you seem to have it under control.” You looked back at the Hellhound, then grabbed his hand. They all tensed, but made no move. You plucked a pen from your hair and scribbled your number. “If you need underworld assistance.” “… I wish that still sounded as illegal as it should,” the Sheriff sighed.

“Not so fast, Tamora.” In all her looking behind, she had forgotten to look ahead until your hand had already closed around her throat. Her eyes widened, breath gasping, hands scratching uselessly at you. “Please. It’s over,” she tried, desperately. “Just let me leave.” You smirked, bitterness burning through you. “Let you leave? Like you let my pack leave?” You could see your memories mirrored in her eyes. The teen girl you’d saved, choking on a wolfsbane bullet. Two Betas who had chosen to join you, fading slowly before your eyes. Even your Emissary slaughtered. Your claws ripped through Tamora’s throat, and you dropped her, letting her head loll, until your foot came down and separated it entirely. You left her there, following the scent of the Alpha. You pushed the library door open, leaving bloody handprints in your wake, and unfamiliar faces stared out at you, one familiar in their midst. You met Deucalion’s healed eyes, and smiled. “Well, I’m not sure if I should feel sorry for whatever poor fool you tricked into helping you.” You wiped your stained hands on your pants. “…I take it you’re (Y/N),” the young Alpha concluded, eventually, holding out a hand. “And you’re the True Alpha,” you returned, looking him up and down. “Scott McCall.” Your eyes flicked through his pack, before returning to him as you took his hand. “I have no quarrel with you.” Your eyes settled on the redhead. “A banshee. How rare.” She couldn’t seem to decide whether to bristle or to smile. “There’s a Hellhound, too.” “The Demon Wolf speaks!” you exclaimed, dryly, but didn’t turn to Deucalion’s voice. “I met the Hellhound already. He has my number if you need anything.” “You could stay,” the Alpha offered. The others raised an eyebrow, except the banshee, who was looking curiously at you. “We could always use more allies.” Your gaze drifted to Deucalion, but he was as unreadable as always, though you didn’t even know what you were looking for. “I can’t.” “You’re mates,” the banshee realised, aloud. You felt yourself go rigid, but didn’t bother to stop it. “No. We could have been.”

“You could stay.” You could almost have laughed. And you tried to, but the tears in your eyes changed its meaning. “What, so this time you can look me in the eye and carve out my throat? Look me in the eye and break my heart?” You scoffed, turning away. “We already lost each other once, Deucalion. I won’t do it again.” “Neither will I.” Part of you wished he knew he was lying, like you did. Another wept for what could have been. Some final, traitorous part of your heart believed him. The young Alpha looked to his pack and led them out. “You can have a home here,” he offered, before he closed the door. “If you want it.” You couldn’t bring yourself to turn back to Deucalion. “I can never be the good man I was once.” You heard him moving closer, heard his heartbeat troubling his chest. “But I am better than when you knew me. I will be better. For Scott and his pack.” His hand came to your shoulder, and you didn’t resist as he spun you to face him. “For you, if you’ll let me.” “Why do you deserve that chance?” His pale eyes thrilled through you. “I don’t.” At least he was honest. “But I will work to earn it.” “You made me a killer.” His eyes wandered to the blood on your hands and he nodded, silently. What could he say to that? There was no denying it, as you both stood in the aftermath of what he did, and what you did with it. You shook your head and turned away. He didn’t follow you.

The pack jumped, guiltily, as you exited the library to find them all crowded around the door. You raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you could use someone to teach you some manners, pups.” Scott smiled, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re staying, then?” The banshee was a bright one. You hummed, thoughtfully, looking over them all. “Yes.” A true smile broke out on Scott’s face. “But not for him.” It was the banshee who smiled this time, stepping up to offer you her hand. “I’m Lydia,” she introduced, easily. “You can stay with me for now.” Deucalion followed you out, but didn’t say anything. “You’re opening your home to a stranger?” You glanced at your hands. “And a killer?” “That bitch just tried to kill me and all my friends.” Her lip gloss smile sharpened, something cold and harsh in her eyes. “If you hadn’t killed her, I would have done it myself.” The pack’s jaws dropped, but the werecoyote just grinned at her friend. You smiled. “I like you.” “You need a shower and a new outfit,” she responded, brightly, then glanced down at herself and around her companions. “We all do.” Scott nodded. “Head home, everyone,” he agreed, taking the werecoyote’s hand. “We’ll talk about everything after we’ve had some rest.” “And food,” the human added, as you all headed for the exits. “God, a pizza sounds great right now.” “Only you could be thinking of food right now.” “Shut up, Sourwolf.”

a/n: an old draft, hopefully to inspire me into writing again

#deucalion #deucalion x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf deucalion #demon wolf #alpha pack #gerard argent #older reader #tw murder #tw gore #lydia martin is a bamf #bamf reader #bamf recognises bamf #sheriff stilinski is done with all this supernatural bullshit #he's so tired #let noah stilinski take a nap 2020

[fanficteen]

gone (4)

tw: implied/referenced self harm, self-destructive behaviours & tendencies, references to canonical suicidal tendencies

“I need you to drop the illusion.” Carlisle’s hand was cool on your cheek, golden eyes pleading with yours, even as you stiffened. “I know I can’t ask you to trust me, but at least trust my medical degree. I need to make sure they’re not infected.” There was no way out of this, except to set your jaw and let the glamour drop. Carlisle whispered thanks, resisted the urge to say anything further as he cleaned the wounds up your arms, in various states of healing. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t owe him an apology. “You don’t need to be.” A bandage swept up each wrist as he released them, finally meeting your eyes again. “I let you down.”  You resisted the urge to comfort him with false assurances that he hadn’t, that it didn’t matter, that he was here now. “I won’t let it happen again.” You wondered if you were naive for starting to believe him.

You came home to a house in chaos, Billy’s sad eyes meeting yours from the middle of Jacob and Rachel’s screaming match, Paul growling at Jacob over Rachel’s shoulder. “HEY!” Your voice cut them both off and the whole pack’s eyes turned to you. “What the hell is going on?” “(Y/N)!” Rachel was on you in a moment, beating her werewolf brother to the punch. “Are you ok? I came by the house but Bella told me you were fine and sent me home.” “I’m fine,” you soothed, grasping her hands. “Just had a few things to sort out.” “So you’re going crawling back to him, huh?” Jacob challenged, surly. “After everything he did?” “We’ll see,” you answered, steadily, determined not to match his anger. “I’m still researching. Even if he keeps this promise, I don’t want to know I have to rely on him.” He grunted some kind of disapproval, but let it go. “The doctor fixed you up?” Billy confirmed, a rough nod at your wrapped wrists, face calm around his storming eyes. You nodded, not trusting your voice. “What?” Jacob’s confused eyes shot to your wrists, the emotions his father hid in his eyes warring for primacy on Jacob’s younger face. “What happened?” You flicked your eyes away from him, only to be caught by Sam’s sorrowful gaze. “Jake–“ “Did he hurt you?!” “No, it’s not like that,” you assured him, frantic. “Jacob,” Sam warned, lowly, but was ignored. “Then what is it like? Who the hell hurt you?!” Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder, trying to soothe the swirling tension. “I DID!” He wilted back into Sam’s grip, eyes wide and tearful, as you buried your face in your hands. “I did.” Billy caught you by the elbow before you could bolt, settling you on his lap in a warm embrace, just as he had done when you were a child, large calloused hands clutching you to him as you sobbed. “It’s time we left,” Sam commented, distantly. “Paul, you too.” Even Rachel’s hotheaded mate didn’t complain at the command, leaving Jacob and Rachel alone to stare at you, aghast, still curled up to your surrogate father’s chest.

Eventually, you unfurled to explain yourself, swiping at the tear tracks sticky on your cheeks as you spoke. Spoke of the pulsing pain of an absent soul bond, of the darker magics you could unlock with only your blood and breath to command it. Of the stinging clarity seeping from open wounds. Jacob’s face hardened into silent stone, and you watched him sink away from you. “I need to go–“ “No!” Hard, dark eyes turned to you. “I can’t be around you–“ “I’ll go.” You stood and grabbed the jacket and handbag you’d discarded by the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.” “Running back to your vampire?” Jacob sneered, ignoring Billy’s firm scolding. You didn’t deign to respond, just stepped out the door and slipped away into the woods. Chilled darkness blanketed around you, heavy on your shoulders, but familiar. The woods breathed a peace that you had missed from your time upriver – no vampires, no humans, no shifters. Just… nature. Unaltered. Footsteps approached behind you, hot-blooded heartbeat fitting the hand that landed on your shoulder, that pulled you into a warm body. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Sam’s voice spoke of sorrow and understanding, of scars too fresh for either of you to be comfortable. You sniffled into his chest. “You can come home with me, or I can take you to your imprint, or–“ “Alice.” Why her name was the first to tumble from your lips, you weren’t sure, but the pixie-like girl swam starlight in your mind’s eye – promises of safety, of honest truth. “I’ll call Alice.” Sam nodded, letting you fumble for your phone. “Alright, we’ll head in that direction while you call her.” His warm arm never left your shoulders as he turned you around, setting off towards the clearing around the Cullens’ home.

You woke the next morning to a cup of steaming tea placed on the bedside table, as Alice took a seat on the bed beside you, offering you a soft smile. Just like the night before, you appreciated the quiet, the lack of questioning – she had opened the door as you murmured your gratitude to Sam, who had given Alice a begrudging nod as he disappeared back into the treeline. You were drawn out of your memory when Alice pulled you close and you let yourself melt into the cool familiarity of her arm draped around you. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” You hummed, closing your hands around your mug as you thought. “I don’t know,” you admitted, eventually. Alice turned her palm over, a wordless invitation, and you placed your hand in hers, letting pain fear anger hurt fear fear love love love burn through the temporary bond. Alice didn’t flinch away, didn’t give any indication that she felt it, her than her fingers intertwining with yours, her other hand combing through your hair. “I just don’t know who I can trust anymore. It’s like… every anchor I had was ripped away and even when the storm clears, it’s not going to carry me back to familiar waters or fix my broken masts.” Your eyes dropped to your bandaged arms. “I’m not even sure they can be fixed. Maybe I’m already a wreck and I’m just waiting for the water to drown me.” “You’re not.” Firm, sure, Alice’s words held every bit of the determination you’d come to know from her. “You’re not broken, you’re not a wreck, and you’re not alone. I know – I know we hurt you, but we’re here now. From now on, we’re here whenever you need us, whatever you need us for. And I know that Billy and even Sam will be too, even if we don’t get along with them. You’re important to both of us, so we’ll make it work.” Protests and disagreements stung on the tip of your tongue, shattered trust and hurt and fear, but Alice’s hands were steady and so was her voice, as she promised she was here. As she promised she wasn’t going anywhere. You didn’t realise you’d lost your shields until an artificial kind of calm washed over you, Jasper padding silently into the room. “Be gentle with yourself,” he requested, quietly, dropping at Alice’s side, golden eyes soft and warm, despite his ice-cold skin. You let his calm steady you, before you began to build your walls back up, closing off their powers.

“Thank you.” Alice smiled at your quiet words, Jasper simply inclining his head in quiet acknowledgement. “Bella’s making waffles,” Alice prompted, after you finished composing yourself, jigsaw puzzle pieces falling into place again. “You wanna shower and come down?” “I don’t have any clothes.” Alice paused. Her clothes wouldn’t fit you, but… “You’re welcome to borrow some of Carlisle’s clothes.” Perhaps, the scent of your soulmate would help soothe you, as well, despite his role in the fragile cracks of your heart. “He’s at the hospital at the moment, so you can use his bathroom and get changed in his room, if you’d like. He should be back soon. But if you’re not comfortable with that, I’m sure you can borrow one of the other guys’ clothes, or someone can duck over to–“ “Are you sure that’s okay?” Alice’s eyes softened. “Of course it is. Carlisle won’t mind one bit, so long as you’re safe and happy… or as close as you can be.”

You stepped out of the warm water feeling a little more like a person, and pulled on the first of Carlisle’s shirts that you found, a button up that draped comfortably down to your knees. Once your hair was dry enough not to soak the shirt, you hung up the towel Alice had lent you and headed downstairs towards the quiet chatter in the living room. Edward was draped over Bella’s shoulders as she cooked, Esme watching fondly as Alice and Emmett bantered over who was really Mr Johnson’s favourite, Rosalie rolling her eyes at them from where she leaned into Emmett’s side. Jasper offered you a gentle smile as you entered and you returned it, only to freeze in place as a familiar head of blond hair poked out of the pantry, which had been stocked with some more human-friendly foods since their return and Bella’s regular presence. “I knew we had maple syrup!” he announced, holding the bottle up victoriously. “Great. (Y/N), what do you want on your waffles?” Bella shot the query over her shoulder as she finished plating up the waffles and turned to plop a plate in front of you. Your tongue tumbled over itself before you managed to sputter a response, earning yourself a concerned look from most of the room. “We’ll leave you two to eat,” Esme decided, ushering the vampires out of the kitchen. Apparently, no matter how good your shields were, you still had an expressive face. Bella leaned against the counter across from you, chewing her waffles and examining you thoughtfully. “Do I need to punch Jacob, or someone else?” she asked, eventually, and you smiled, sombrely, though the effect was ruined a little by the mouthful of waffles bulging your cheeks. “I don’t know who I’m most angry at, so I’ll give you a pass on the punching for the moment.” She laughed, and for a moment things were almost normal. Almost. “What are we doing here?” Bella blinked up at your sudden question. “…eating waffles.” “Yeah, but why are we here, eating waffles, with the people who abandoned us? Why can’t I still be angry? I’m still hurting, like every time I see him the wounds reopen but he’s the only one who can stitch them up and I just don’t get it! Why was it so easy for them to leave us, but we can’t ever stay away?” You were crying now, and Bella offered her shoulder before you ruined your waffles, soft circles running along your shoulders. “It wasn’t easy for them to leave us. And it wasn’t easy for any of us to come back. But… this is where we’re meant to be. No matter what happens now, we all belong together. We can heal together.” She pulled back, brushing tears from your perpetually stained cheeks, and offered a soft smile. “I know they fucked up. I know we fucked up. But… we can do better.”

a/n: sorry for the wait y’all, have some platonic bonding

@mylovelyjoon @kyrah-williams @crazycookiecrumbles @mangoberry43 @misselsbells06

#gone #gone (carlisle x reader) #carlisle cullen #carlisle #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle x reader #cullens x reader #bella swan #alice cullen #jacob black #billy black #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #tw self harm #tw implied self harm #tw self harm mention #self destruction #tw self destructive behaviours #sam uley

[fanficteen]

Hi! So I just read Stale blood and have no idea when it was posted, if you're still writing or even active on this blog, but any chance of a part 5?

hi!! i am planning to post a 5th part for stale blood, i’ve just been struggling to sit down & write. sorry for the wait!!

[fanficteen]

ok i’m writing for gone (carlisle x reader) again

do y’all want

A: recovery angst & hurt/comfort and they get back together

B: reader can’t trust carlisle again & fucks off to figure out how to break a soulmate bond

ft also extended editions of:

A: reader calling edward a dumbass but using her magic to help w the pregnancy & birth (A(i): reader punching jacob in the face when he goes to kill renesmee)

B: reader calling edward a dumbass but standing with the cullens against the volturi  (B(i): reader straight up nerfing the volturi before they capture alice/kill carlisle in the vision; B(ii): reader killing caius & aro to avenge carlisle, overthrowing the vampire monarchy in the vision; B(iii): reader making a comment about didyme and ultimately the volturi tear themselves apart from the inside; B(iv): what would y’all prefer?)

C: other ideas?

send me an ask w your answers so i can keep it a surprise

(like this: B --> A --> C: reader figures out how to remove a soulmate bond, becomes a renowned for fixing ppls soulmate problems & finding them better relationships, and finds love elsewhere)

#gone #gone (carlisle x reader) #carlisle x reader #twilight #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #cullen x reader #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #twilight fanfiction #carlisle imagine #carlisle cullen imagine

[fanficteen]

controversial opinion but azula doesn’t owe ursa her time

#azula #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #princess azula #ursa #fire nation #fire lady ursa

[fanficteen]

The Boiling Rock

I think we overlook some of the significance of the boiling rock by getting caught up in character relationships

Like those are super important for the show but hear me out

The people who escape boiling rock are not just the first ever prisoners to escape. They are very important political prisoners. And they escape from under the noses of not just the warden, but the Fire Princess.

Like, Hakoda isn’t just Sokka’s dad, he’s Chief of the Southern Water Tribe and he and his son just led an invasion that made it all the way to the Fire Nation capital. Zuko - although only a short term captive - is probably the most high profile fugitive in the world at the time (except maybe Iroh. Maybe). And Suki isn’t just some warrior. She is the leader of the Kyoshi warriors - an elite earth kingdom troupe whose home had evaded fire nation rule until the start of the series, not to mention a known associate of the Avatar. Like woah. w o a h. Can you imagine the PR flack?? Not to mention Mai and Ty Lee’s betrayal like how did they explain that away? Mai is the daughter of a very high ranking noble family and her uncle is the warden of the prison she just helped high profile prisoners escape from.

Optics are very important to the Fire Lord and that would be fascinating to consider

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #the boiling rock #sokka #suki #hakoda #zuko #mai #ty lee #azula #prison break #fire lord #fire nation #fire nation pr #fire lord pr #kyoshi warriors

[fanficteen]

there's literally 0 reason for yall to b writing katara as some annoying, over-emotional bitch or mai as an overly-jealous, bitter ex or azula as inherently malicious and irredeemably evil yet here we are

[fanficteen]

listen

i don’t like azula

she’s a very uncomfortable character and all of her relationships were very toxic and she was a villain set up to be a villain

but

she’s also 14 years old and if y’all think Iroh, Dragon of the West, who was literally known for forging a path through the Earth Kingdom, only to be stopped bc he gave up at Ba Sing Se, deserved the respect and power he gained after realising the pain this war and his nation had caused and working to fix it AS A WHOLEASS GROWN UP then don’t come at me about how azula is way too evil to deserve a redemption arc

i don’t think she could ever have a redemption arc in the show, because there weren’t any characters there who hadn’t suffered from azula’s actions. that automatically establishes that those relationships wouldn’t have been healthy – whether in the gaang, who had been hurt by azula as an active enemy and hated her guts; or from ty lee and mai, who had been hurt by azula under the guise of friendship and grew up so fearful of her (not to mention they had all already betrayed one another’s trust)

but there was space in the comics, where new characters were introduced and others could be introduced, that was never given to azula. and i don’t even mean it had to be given as a redemption arc. azula could have come to terms with her trauma and remained a powerful villain in her own right – we never get to see what azula truly thinks for herself, beyond what ozai programmed into her. so coming to terms with her abuse and trauma wouldn’t necessarily redeem her. 

azula had cruel, conniving streaks to her personality naturally, and they were only encouraged by ozai. we see that her temper is quite short and she’s prone to lashing out violently, even when she’s at her most controlled. so even after grappling with her past, she could still be a villain. she might decide to kill ozai (wouldn’t blame her). there’s every possibility she might decide that a world which hurt her like that didn’t deserve to exist at all. or she might decide that roku was to blame for all the pain brought on her – whether because he failed to stop sozin or because he ultimately brought ursa into being – and try to kill aang (again). even trying to kill ursa/kiyi/noren/etc is an act of more agency than she had in the show. 

there are so many ways azula’s character could have been taken after coming to terms with her trauma – villainous and otherwise – but we never get to see her choose her own path.

#azula #atla #avatar the last airbender #tw murder #tw trauma #tw abuse mention #tw toxic relationships

[fanficteen]

my midterms are over and i’m dying over bakoda so send me bakoda fic recs happy ones pls i don’t want to die 

also send me requests if you want i guess i’m working on more for my current series but hmu if you have ideas bc inspiration is pain and i am in it eternally

#bakoda #fic recs pls #requests open

[fanficteen]

Job Description

john winchester x reader

tw self harm; death mention

Scars were as much a part of a hunter’s life as fake badges and cheap hotels, so it wasn’t like anyone was asking questions about bloodstains and ridged skin. You could put a name to many of them, and so could Sam and Dean. There was the one where your appendix should have been, that Sam had stitched up for you, while he and Dean had both wrestled with the tense silence of knowing that you had taken that knife for them. There were the scars on your temples and cheeks, where a demon had been a little overzealous demanding information about your companions. There were wendigo claws, vampire bites, aching memories of shackles and fights. There was even one across your throat, where John’s knife had pressed too hard the day he returned, demanding to know what you had done to his sons to have them house a witch.

You and John got along better now. You didn’t talk about scars. They were in the job description. You did talk about hunts. Although what you had done tonight could hardly be described as talking, you mused, as John slammed the door behind him, growling something about needing a drink. It wasn’t often your arguments went to first round knockouts, but what could you say? I’ve been a hunter my whole life! I knew what I was doing! Yeah? Is that girl’s going in the ground rather than to therapy? Stab. If I’d followed your plan, you and her would’ve both been dead! Don’t turn this on me! You couldn’t handle your emotions and you got an innocent girl killed. And twist. All you could do was stare at the door as John’s footsteps scuffed in the direction of a bar. The adrenaline of the hunt and the fight afterwards seeped out of your veins and you felt your limbs begin to tremble. You reached for the phone. “(Y/N)?” Dean’s voice was soothing, ever familiar, crackling through the phone. “What’s wrong?” “We’re fine,” you assured him, though you knew the quiet rasp of your voice wouldn’t convince him. “Not injured. But I need you to ring your Dad. Make sure he’s okay. He stormed out on me after the hunt.” Because I got someone killed. “What?! What happened?!” “I picked him over an innocent girl,” you admitted, quietly. “He didn’t like that.” You heard the tired sigh at the end of the line and muffled a sob. “Hey, don’t cry. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dean soothed, carefully. “He’ll get over it. Just clean up and get some rest, I’ll take care of Dad.” A choked thank you and you let the line go dead.

You didn’t know how long you spent staring at the door, your thoughts heavy and swirling and painful. The girl, dead on the floor. Just 19. John’s face when you’d cut the vamp’s head off. The tense ride back to the motel. The slamming door. You got an innocent girl killed, and there was anger and disappointment in John’s eyes and you didn’t know which was worse. I should’ve kept hunting alone. I’m better off without you. It was the resignation that hurt the most, you thought. No surprise, just the exhausted weight of being let down. As though he almost expected it. Somewhere in the haze of your thoughts, you’d made it to the bathroom and into the shower, knife clenched tight in your hand. It was an old one, but sharp. You made sure of that. It had been your mother’s once, and you took it with you everywhere. Beneath your pillow when you slept, strapped to your thigh on hunts, hidden under skirts and smiles when it had to be. You watched blood trickle down the drain, dancing patterns of crimson in the trails of hot water and tears. It was almost hypnotic. By the time you stepped out of the shower, you could almost put your body count out of your mind in favour of the robotic haze of clean, dry, cover. Your eyes flitted over the first aid kit and decided against it. No point wasting bandages. A too-big hoodie and leggings and you flicked on the television to drown out the remnants of your thoughts. Some shitty reality shows flickered across the screen and you let it drown into static around you in favour of staring at the mildewing ceiling.

At some point, you became aware of blood still seeping down your arms, oozing from the fresh cuts. Part of you wondered if that was so bad. The other part of you kicked and screamed loud enough to drag your wool-filled mind into action and you found yourself cracking ice out of the mini-bar freezer and pressing it to your bleeding wrists. That would slow the blood flow, right? You didn’t have it in you to find anything to wrap it, so you just sat there, ice cradled in your bleeding arms. Eventually, you registered that the freezer had started to beep in protest and you managed to kick it shut and stagger back to the bed, ignoring the sopping sleeves of your hoodie slipping back down your freezing arms.

“Go to bed, Dean,” John’s familiar drawl sounded, irritably. You heard him begin fiddling with the lock, muttering to himself about calling his damn son to check up on him and felt your heart sink in your chest, though you hadn’t known your spirits could get lower. When the door finally opened, John stumbled over the threshold, clearly well on his way to drunk. And it took a lot to make that man lose his footing. You’d almost forgotten about the fresh wounds until you jumped to your feet to help him. John’s eyes cleared as you hissed, concern furrowing his brow. Great, you upset him, and now he’ll know. You decided not to get any closer as he kicked the door shut behind him. “D’you get hurt on the hunt?” His voice was gruff, but concerned. “Why didn’t you say?” You shook your head, resisting the urge to match each of his steps towards you with one back. “I’m fine.” And now you’d lied to him as well. He raised an eyebrow as you shuffled back a few steps in response to his approach, but paused in his place. “(Y/N).”  You didn’t know how he made one word – just your name, which he’d said a million times – sound like an offer and a threat all at once. He took another step forward and you stepped back again. “Sweetheart, let me see.” You could only shake your head and step back again, but then he was there. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the swirling emotions in those dark eyes, so you just hung your head. “What the hell’s got into you?” He was so close, towering over you, clasping your wrists to keep you from pushing him away, and you could smell the whiskey on his breath. You didn’t realised you’d cried out until he released you, eyes going wide. Then his fingers were pressing your chin up so you were looking at him. “(Y/N), tell me what the fuck is going on.” You could see the question, the almost-pleading in his eyes as he reached for your arms again and you were too tired to push him away. Too tired to run again, like you had so many times. He pushed back your sleeves.

Your forearms were stained red, a mixture of blood and icy grey skin. A few pale patches were forming and you frowned at them, wearily. His voice was barely a breath as he swore. Then there was movement again, and all you could do was sit, as a warm cloth peeled away some of the dried blood, soothed the fragile skin. Then it was burning. You whimpered, ready to pull your arm away but John held it. “I know. I know, sweetheart, but I have to warm it or it’ll get worse.” His grip was firm, but careful to avoid the sensitive skin as much as he could. So you bit your lip and tried to ignore the burning until it was gone. Until all that was left was the slight sting of antiseptic as John bound bandages over your wounds. “This ‘cause of what I said?” he asked, eventually. “You know I didn’t mean it? It’s better with you around. You’re a fine hunter.” Each word dripped with more fear, more anger than the last. Who he was angry with, you weren’t sure. “’S not your fault.” You wanted nothing more than to curl in on yourself and disappear. Make this whole week fade away. The girl would still be alive, John wouldn’t be angry with you, and he certainly wouldn’t be looking at you with those morose, dark eyes, heavy with something you didn’t understand. Realisation flickered across his face, chased by more fear.

“Take these off.” “You don’t wanna –“ “Take them off, (Y/N).” There was no point refusing, so you stripped, revealing all the long, pale ridges along your arms, the newly scabbing cuts on your thighs. Memories you would rather forget, carved into your skin. John didn’t say anything as he handed you one of his shirts. “I can get–“ “Just put it on.” You obeyed, then he knelt between your legs and cleaned your wounds again. And then he was done, and the silence was back, almost worse than it had been before, as he packed the first aid kit away. At least the first time, you had known what to say. Had known what he would say. Hunting was a safe subject. Scars were not. Especially these ones. So you just sat there, as he packed the first aid kit away and folded your bloody clothes out of sight. As he locked the door and turned off the bathroom lights. As he sat beside you on the end of the bed, and sighed. “(Y/N)–“ “I’m sorry.” You cut him off, willing your voice not to break. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll–“ “No.” You wondered how many times a heart could break. “Don’t apologise for how I feel about it. This ain’t about me.” “Sorry.” You winced and he noticed, running a hand down his weary face with a sigh. Then a surprisingly hesitant hand found your chin and he turned you to look at him. “Sweetheart–“ The pet name broke you, this time, and you couldn’t stop the tears welling up in your eyes, falling freely down your cheeks. “Oh, darlin’.” His arms were warm around you, pulling you into his firm chest, one hand combing through your hair. And he let you cry, steady as a rock, murmuring words you didn’t hear but knew anyway. By the time your sobs subsided, even the music from the bar had faded into the night. John simply lifted you into his arms and laid you under the covers, still snuggled to his chest, without a word.

#john winchester x reader #john winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #tw self harm #tw death #tw drinking #tw shouting #tw scars #winchester x reader

[fanficteen]

gone (3)

carlisle cullen x reader

tw death mention; implied self-harm

“Bella’s asking for you.” “Bella can suck it,” you answered, shortly, glaring at the table. Billy sighed. “Go and talk to her.” You turned your glare on him instead. “I may not know much about witches, but I’m not blind. This is killing you.” You sighed, but got up anyway. You were more likely to get Bella to give up on you than you were to get Billy off your case. Bella’s eyes lit up when you appeared, leaning against the doorframe. “Go on, then. Tell me why the vampires are so great,” you suggested, dryly. “I’m not going running back into Carlisle’s arms like you did Edward’s. They left us. He left me. So I’m clearly not worth much to him.” “It’s not like that and you know it.” You did know it. As much as you didn’t want to admit it. But you just stared back at her until she sighed. “I don’t understand, (Y/N). All this is doing is making you both miserable. Why won’t you just hear him out?” “Because he abandoned me, they abandoned you, they abandoned the Pack to deal with a murderous rogue vampire and her newborn armies. I killed for him, Bella.” Her eyes went wide. “I cut off Victoria’s head and burned her body in the hope that they’d come back and I can’t wash that blood off my hands.” You stepped back to shut the door, but Bella caught it. “Don’t you think a relationship worth killing for is worth talking out?” “Not to him, apparently.”

You made the mistake of letting Rachel drag you out of the house to help her pick an outfit for a date with Paul. You did point out that Paul couldn’t care less what she looked like and in return she had pointed out that just because you looked like shit, she didn’t have to. You’d had no further arguments as she’d dragged you to the car. In hindsight, you should have argued your point better, because apparently you weren’t the only one who’d been dragged on a shopping trip. “It wasn’t his fault. I’m the reason we left.” Edward winced as you threw up your shields, forcing him out of your mind. “I was under the impression your father could make his own decisions,” you snarled, as Rachel made a beeline for where Alice and Rosalie were pretending to show Bella a dress, though you knew well they could hear every word. “You know, being 400 years old.” “He was just trying to support me,” Edward returned, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving past him. You couldn’t help the gasp that slipped from your lips, Edward’s grasp immediately loosening so you could wrench your hand back, resisting the urge to cradle it to you. “Please. I know he loves you and I know you love him. You can’t just–“ “I can’t just what? Walk away? Give up on him?” You scoffed. “Please, Edward. I walked away from the empty space that used to be a relationship. You left. You all left. And for what? So that psycho would leave us alone? Yeah, great lot of good that did any of us. You don’t get to just come back like it’s all fine and dandy.” “What’s wrong with your wrist?” You didn’t answer and the other vampires’ eyes shot to you, now, giving up on whatever pretence they’d had of not listening. “Why didn’t you –“ He cut off, golden eyes flashing from your apparently unblemished wrist to your face. “You –“ “Shut up,” you threatened, lowly. “(Y/N),” Alice murmured, dropping the dress she’d been holding and taking a step towards you. “Don’t.” “What’s going on?” Rachel questioned, she and Bella watching the scene at an absolute loss. “Why are you all looking at her like that?” Rosalie just continued to stare. “(Y/N)?” “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, backing away. “I’m so sorry.”

“Where is he?” Emmett gaped at you as you materialised in front of him on the Cullens’ doorstep. “Emmett, where’s –“ Carlisle’s Mercedes rolled into the driveway behind you and you turned to him, immediately. “(Y/N)?” He was in front of you the moment the engine stopped. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” “You need to tell your kids to leave me alone, Carlisle.” Confusion flashed across his face as he glanced at Emmett, but cleared when Bella’s truck pulled up, spilling the girls and Edward out into the yard. “Did you know?” Rosalie demanded of Carlisle, making the newly arrived Jasper exchange a confused glance with the equally confused Emmett. “What?” Carlisle questioned, bewildered. “Can we rewind for a second?” Emmett requested, desperately. “What are you all talking about?” You watched a wave of calm wash over the scene, bouncing off your shields. “Why don’t we all go inside and talk about this?” Jasper suggested, as he forced his family to find their heads. You opened your mouth to refuse but were cut off by Alice suddenly grabbing your shoulder. “(Y/N), please. Let us fix this.” You narrowed your eyes, but nodded anyway. Alice had always had a soft spot in your heart, and especially after they left, when she had been the only one who had bothered to answer your frantic phone calls, for even a brief moment, before Rosalie’s voice had entered and immediately cut the call off. You wondered if she knew where you had been standing when you’d called, and decided you probably didn’t want to know the answer.

“(Y/N)?” Jasper prompted, once you were all seated in the living room. “Do you want to start? I have to admit, I think we’re all pretty surprised to see you here.” “Really? I try and spend every Friday with the people who have hurt me most in the world,” you retorted, brightly, but Jasper just looked back at you, placidly. The gentle understanding in his eyes almost vexed you more than Edward’s pleading. “I don’t understand what you want from me.” “A chance,” Rosalie murmured. “A chance?” you repeated, coldly. “Like the one you all had six months ago?” “You can’t hate us forever over one mistake!” she snapped, raising her voice. “Rose,” Emmett warned, but she was on a roll now, surging to her feet. “Everything we did, we did to protect you and Bella. You’re not the only one who suffered while we were away! We didn’t see Edward the whole time until he tried to kill himself and now the Volturi are on our backs! And you won’t even listen!” “You want to talk about what happened while you were away?” you asked, icily, looking up at her. The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “First, I realise my best friends and the love of my life have left without even saying goodbye, leaving my other best friend in an essentially catatonic state. I am now entirely alone, because my home before now was with a werewolf family that didn’t want me while I was associated with vampires.” Rosalie opened her mouth, but you cut her off before she could speak. “So I throw myself into my magic and work for weeks, thinking that maybe, if Victoria was gone, you’d all come back. I fight and kill a vampire and burn her corpse. Nothing changes. I try to get in touch with you all and no one answers until I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and Alice calls, only to be immediately cut off. Charlie drags me back to my Dad’s house and I discover that my brother is only interested in one girl who hangs out with vampires.” Bella winced. “So I figure, what the hell, I might as well learn to be a proper witch, right? And then, after a grand total of six weeks of peace, who should come barging back into my life except you.” You dropped your eyes back to the floor. “And after all that, you want me to listen?” You got to your feet. “I just want to be left alone.”

“But that’s killing you,” Bella finally found her voice. Your stomach dropped. “What?!” The Cullens demanded, eyes flicking between you and her. “Then maybe it’ll stop hurting,” you answered, quietly. “(Y/N),” Alice breathed, voice shaking. You glanced over at her. “We can fix this.” “Can you?” Your eyes bored into hers, like sinking into pools of ichor. “Just give us a chance.” Once again, you gave in to her. “What did Bella mean, (Y/N)?” Edward asked, as soon as your shoulders dropped. “I don’t know how she found this out.” Something told you it was Billy. “But a witch’s soulmate bond is a piece of her soul. So a neglected one becomes, basically, a septic soul wound. It can take years, sometimes even a century or so to take full effect, but it will, eventually, kill you. Provided you’re not killed by something else first.” “So if we hadn’t come back, you would’ve died anyway?” Emmett realised, horrified. You shrugged, looking away. “Jesus, (Y/N), why didn’t you–“ “Because I didn’t want Carlisle to be with me because he thought I’d die otherwise!” you snapped, before he could even finish. “I wanted to have a soulmate who loved me, not just someone upholding a responsibility to keep me alive.” “I can do both,” Carlisle murmured. You heard him stand, felt the gust of air as he crossed the room to stand behind you. “Can you? Because that isn’t what it felt like when you disappeared without so much as a goodbye,” you asked, tiredly. You turned around and met his eyes, shining wetly despite that he couldn’t shed tears. “And I really want you to be able to do it, Carlisle, because despite recent months, I don’t think I really want to die.”

Tags

@mylovelyjoon 

@kyrah-williams

#carlisle cullen x reader #cullen x reader #carilsle x reader #carlisle cullen #cullen #cullens #carlisle #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #tw death mention #soulmates #tw wound mention #tw depression #tw suicide mention #tw implied self harm #tw murder mention

[fanficteen]

Old Friend

deucalion x reader

“(Y/N)?” Rafael’s voice crackled on the other end of the phone. “McCall?” “I need your help.” Sirens whirled in the background. “You what?” “There’s a hunting problem.” That cleared absolutely nothing up. “I’m an author, not a cop, McCall.” “At the shipyard,” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard you. “Remember I told you about the Hale attack?” “McCall,” you heard, muffled, on the other end of the phone. “Name’s a little too close to home, ain’t it, Ferrell?” “Please.” The line went dead. “Hale attack? That was a fire.” Your heart plummeted in your chest. “Hunters.” You scrambled for the door, not even bothering to lock it as you ran. You’d heard about them coming, heard about the new pack, the True Alpha. Hell, you’d even helped once or twice, when Melissa or Argent called you in. But you hadn’t made the connection between McCall and Scott McCall, the tiny, chubby little kid you’d looked after while his mom worked.

Guns were already firing when you reached the shipyard, and someone was crawling for cover. Or, trying too. He was far too old to be Scott, even as his eyes flashed red, claws extending to drag him across the ground. Three teenagers were scattered around the yard, another man crouched behind a steel beam. You waited, as the Hunters moved forward. Then the barrage ceased, though they kept their guns raised. You launched forward, then, and cut off three from the back with ease. You grabbed a fourth by the throat and tossed him into another, finally drawing their attention to you, as you managed to grab the wounded wolf and bolt in their confusion. “Made a new friend, Scott?” That voice sent chills down your spine, blood-soaked memories clawing their way from the pit of your mind. Your parents – human parents, dead on the floor, just for protecting you. “Just in time to bury them.” You swept through the group to the woman speaking, throwing her to the ground. She spun to look at you, as she landed, but you were already moving, surging towards her. Through the corner of your eye, you caught sight of one of her hunters moving towards the stone column, where Scott was crouched, and you changed courses, knowing you wouldn’t get there in time. Then an engine revved, and suddenly there was a Jeep spearing into the shipyards and the Hunter went flying from the impact. You felt a bullet shatter your shoulder and growled, turning back towards Monroe as two new faces joined the fight. She glanced at you, then behind her, and took off for her car, her men following behind her. Half of you wanted to go after her, but Scott needed you more than you needed revenge. Scott’s pack soon grouped up around where he was struggling, vainly, to stem the blood flow of the wounded man. You pushed him aside, lightly, kneeling in his place. The man ignored you, still focused on Scott. Something about Gerard and knowing he couldn’t win. His breath cut off. “It’s really started, hasn’t it?” None of them stopped you, but you could feel them staring as you leaned forward, eyes flashing black, as you buried your claws in the back of his neck. “Hey!” The late werewolf – a Hale – grabbed Scott’s arm as he protested. “She’s a Grim,” he breathed, as the man’s flashed open and he gasped for breath. “She just – she just brought him back from the dead, right?” Stiles asked, jaw dropped. “I’m not insane?” “She just brought him back from the dead,” the redhead agreed. “He wasn’t quite dead,” you corrected, immediately darting out of the way as the man swung onto his hands and knees, choking in mouthfuls of air.

“Who – wait, (Y/N)?!” “It’s been a while, pup.” He stared as you rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly. “Pretty impressive pack you’ve gathered. A handful of Hales, a Banshee, another Alpha…” You glanced at Stiles. “…the Sheriff’s son. Very human, very smart. You’re taking good care of him, right?” You carefully placed your foot on the wounded man’s back as he moved to stand. He swung his head around to glare. “Sorry, but you should stay down there, sir.” “Gonna introduce us, Scott?” the late Hale prompted. “Oh! Yeah, sorry,” Scott gestured between you and the pack, “Everyone, this is (Y/N). She used to babysit me as a kid. I did not know she was supernatural. (Y/N), this is Derek, Peter, Malia, Lydia, and you know Stiles.” You tilted your head, surreptitiously, towards the recovering wolf. “That’s Deucalion.” “He’s who?” you questioned, earning a half-hearted laugh from the man on the ground. “Can I get up, now?” he requested, lightly, his voice still rough around the edges. You hesitated, then offered your hand. “You have to let me help you, though.” He glanced from your hand to your face, then sighed and took it, letting you help him to his feet, supporting his aching body. “Nice to meet you, oh Mr Demon Wolf, Destroyer of Worlds, pep-talker of my favourite kid.” He chuckled, lowly. “Nice to meet you, Miss Death-Defier, Beacon Hills’ Grim, babysitter of the True Alpha.” The others were all staring at you, wide-eyed, when you both looked back at them. “We should leave.” “I want to take him to Deaton,” you added, as they all nodded. He sighed, and you all waited for him to protest. “What?” he challenged, letting you help him towards your car, “I’d rather see the Druid than die.”

The roar echoed through the school, reverberating in your chest – pain, anger, hurt. “Scott?!” Before you could take off, Deucalion grabbed your arm. “You don’t know how to fight it.” “Scott’s hurt!” “He’ll be more hurt if you’re dead.” You sighed, but nodded, mutely. “Let me go ahead.” He offered you his hand. “Unless I squeeze your hand, don’t open your eyes. It knows how to trick us.” “Don’t you need that?” You glanced at his hand, and he offered you a lopsided smirk. “If I do, I’ll just throw you with my punch.” You snorted, but took his hand anyway. “Give me some warning, I’ll even put my claws out and actually make myself useful.”

“Bobby?!” The Coach spun at the sound of your voice. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you hurt?” “Just looking after my players,” he answered, brightly. You raised an eyebrow. “Some asshole thought he could get away with touching my boys outside my office. I mean, sure, Jackson and Ethan aren’t my team anymore, but they’re still –” “Bobby, are they okay?” “What? Of course,” he huffed, folding his arms. “I hit him with a lacrosse stick.” Deucalion raised an eyebrow. “Not all of us have fangs and claws.” Then he paused for a moment. “Hang on, you’re the asshole–“ “Coach?” You heard a clatter in the nearby entrance hall, as Scott appeared, but just surged towards him. Deucalion headed for the noise. Blood still stained around his eyes but he smiled, offering a soft laugh, as you checked him over. “I’m fine.” “You blinded yourself?” Horror coursed through you. “He what?” Bobby demanded. Jackson and Ethan appeared, from the same direction Bobby had come. Ethan did a double take, but Deucalion held up his hands in surrender, and the boy approached, warily. “Coach, why are you here?” Stiles questioned, still entirely bewildered. “He just saved us,” Ethan admitted, making Derek raise an eyebrow. “Malia?” Peter crashed through the doors behind them. “Malia– you’re okay.” The girl in question smiled, brightly, crushing her father into a hug. Peter froze. Derek kicked Stiles before he could snicker. “Coach saved you?” Stiles asked, returning his attention to the boys. “No need for that tone, Stilinski.” “He beat a hunter unconscious with a lacrosse stick,” Jackson explained, and Stiles’ jaw dropped further. “Wait, do you know about this, Coach?” Scott asked, brows furrowed. “Of course I know. That’s my sister fussing over you.” “She’s your what?” “I’m adopted,” you assured the baffled teenagers.

Deucalion cleared his throat, summoning your attention. He held up Monroe by her collar. “She’s still alive.” “You won’t kill me,” she sneered, “McCall won’t let you.” “McCall’s not my Alpha,” Deucalion responded, eyes flashing red. “Yet you still deferred to him.” Deucalion snarled, but looked back to Scott. “This is your territory, Scott.” The boy hesitated. “But it’s a war for all of us.” They hadn’t even seen you moving before her heart dropped to the floor. “(Y/N)?!” “What the hell?!” Deucalion didn’t speak through the teenaged chorus, just discarded the body, unceremoniously, curious gaze fixed on your face. “A woman after my own heart.” Malia elbowed Peter, cutting off his muttering. “Was that her?” A sob tore from your throat at Bobby’s question, raw and ragged, but you nodded. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your brother, or at Scott, afraid of what you would see there. So you just held Deucalion’s gaze, as if begging him to understand… something. Anything. Even you weren’t sure what. The man was a killer, after all. You didn’t need to justify yourself to him. You could hear Bobby explaining, behind you, but still didn’t dare look back. You flinched when Deucalion finally broke the impasse by taking a step forward, but didn’t move away. He continued forward, slowly, until he had closed the distance between you, a warm hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” The question was stiff, awkward, but you couldn’t say you expected any different. Before you even registered what you were doing, you slumped forward, burying your head in his chest. He went stiff for a moment, but you soon felt his arms inch around you, one hand coming to your hair. Your sobs began to fade, breathing falling into sync with the soothing fingers trailing through your hair. “Am I seeing this right– ow, Derek!” A low growl rumbled from Deucalion’s chest, vibrating through your body, and Stiles fell silent. With a shuddering breath, you pulled away and looked up to meet the eyes of the Alpha of Alphas. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was gentle. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “You just single-handedly destroyed a well-manicured, decades-old reputation.” There was no anger in his voice. “I think you did that when you started practicing pacifism,” Peter drawled, making both Scott and Deucalion glare at him. He shrugged, but didn’t try to take it back. “Can I suggest we leave?” Lydia piped up, quietly. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a shower.” She looked down at her dust-covered hands, the stains of blood and sweat on her clothes. Murmurs of agreement followed, and you all headed for the doors. “Scott, if you see your father, tell him I’ll be by tomorrow.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I just magically realised you were about to die, did you?” You didn’t bother listening to their mumbled responses, just made a beeline for your car. “Call me tonight!” Bobby shouted after you. You waved your agreement.

#pack mom reader #tw past trauma #tw parent death #tw murder #deucalion x reader #deucalion #teen wolf deucalion #teen wolf #coach finstock #bobby finstock #adopted!reader #adopted!finstock!reader #tw violence #tw gore #tamora monroe #coach is secretly soft #tw guns #tw injury #tw major injury

[fanficteen]

gone (2)

carlisle cullen x reader

tw implied self harm; murder mention

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Alice questioned, staring at Jacob and Bella incredulously. “She was the same as Bella,” Jacob answered, bitterly. “Stopped talking, stopped eating. Charlie caught her out at your house on weekends, just sitting on the porch and watching the forest. She skipped town about a month ago with nothing but a text and her truck dumped in the middle of the woods, a few miles from the coast.” “But– she can’t have– how didn’t I see it?” Alice’s eyes went wide, flickering desperately between Bella and Jacob. “Alice, we need to go and get Edward,” Bella prompted, urgently. Jacob scoffed. “Yeah, go save your brother from the big scary vampires.” He turned to leave. “I wish I’d had that chance.”

It was peaceful, out in the woods. There were no gaping holes to fill, no one missing because people were just never here. And your magic… it grew every day, silver mist building around you, reaching farther and faster each day. You had been so excited to show Jacob when he’d turned up, following your scent to the river where you were fishing. He’d told you, of course, about Bella rushing off to Italy to save Edward. But nothing prepared you for being jolted out of your meditation by a familiar presence. So used to reading heartbeats, you hadn’t even sensed him until you’d opened up to energy and by then he was already standing before you. “(Y/N).” He said your name so calmly as you shot to your feet. His eyes saddened as you went scrambling away from him, desperately trying to calm your breath on the other side of the clearing. “What were you thinking, running off like that? And taking on Victoria? You could have got yourself killed.” That was the wrong thing to say. “Don’t you dare lecture me on running off!” you snapped, ignoring the pain in your chest at the shock and hurt in his face. “I’m not the one who disappeared off the face of the earth without so much as a goodbye!” “We left to keep you and Bella safe! Victoria –” “Victoria, yes, of course.” You cut him off. “How could I forget my first kill. I was so sure you’d come back, after that. After she was gone. I even tried projecting my thoughts to Edward or Alice, or someone. So you’d know.” You shook your head, a bitter smile twisting across your face. “And all it earned me was a scar.” Carlisle’s eyes finally zeroed in on the sharp white ghost of a gash, spearing across your collarbone and disappearing beneath your shirt. “Turns out vampire venom doesn’t mix well with my blood.” He stepped forward and you stepped back, stumbling over a root. You’d barely begun falling before he was at your side, holding you steady. You hissed as his hands wrapped around your wrists and pushed away from him when he immediately let go, but you barely registered the fear and guilt that lashed across his face in your panic.

“(Y/N).” You shook your head. “(Y/N), what’s wrong with your arms?” He had spent centuries learning to control his strength and he knew he hadn’t gripped you tight enough to hurt. “What do you care?” Some sick part of you hoped that would be enough to send him away, to return the anger he had approached you with, but you had no such luck. “You have to let me see. You could have an infection or anything out here,” he insisted, with the same voice he had used in the hospital the first time you met. “I can take care of myself!” “You don’t have to!” “Yes I do!” you snarled, finally rounding on him, eyes meeting his again. “Yes, I do, Carlisle. You left. You left and I was alone and I had to take care of myself. So don’t come running back now because it’s convenient for you.” “I didn’t–“ “You didn’t what? Didn’t mean to hurt me? Well, newsflash, Carlisle, abandoning people hurts. And you don’t get to come waltzing back into my life and pretend like you care about my pain.” You kicked some dirt over your campfire and disappeared in a whirl of mist.

Tags

@mylovelyjoon 

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #carlisle #cullen x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #tw implied self harm #tw murder mention #guilt #tw suicide mention #tw scars #tw break up

[fanficteen]

stale blood (4)

chris argent x reader

Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly where you’d expect to find a bog cat. There definitely wasn’t a bog, and it wasn’t even coastal, no major water sources… There was the lake an hour or so out of town, but the bodies were near the school. Your light flickered and you glanced up. 3am. Your tea was cold beside you and the rabbit hole had so far proved worthless, so you flipped your laptop closed and poured the stewed drink down the sink. A muffled click brought your attention and you frowned, letting your senses roam a little wider. Something was breathing – something big, rasping, and close. You fumbled for your phone. The breathing drew closer. You unsheathed your claws, hurrying towards your bedroom in search of the painted nettle plant you’d bought. This was as good a time to test that hypothesis as any. One hand out behind you held the front door shut as you passed it, heading for the stairs, your magic holding strong though you could feel something bashing at it. Then the door splintered under the weight of clawed hands, and a man stepped through. He was unnervingly tall, with eyes the colour of torchlit fog and black fur beginning to sprout up his arms. You growled, lowly, urgently tapping through your phone. He leapt forward and suddenly you were jumping out of reach of a full-blown paw, claw marks scraping down your chest. The man was gone, and you were faced with something entirely feline, and entirely feral. His hackles rose, fur bristling up so you couldn’t get a clear view of his true size. He hissed and you bolted before he could pounce, sprinting up the stairs.

“Hello?” Allison’s voice was quiet, confused, when she answered the phone. “Allison,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady as the cat’s quiet footsteps approached. “It’s (Y/N). Your, uh, your Dad isn’t home is he?” “Yeah, he is. Are you okay? You sound a little out of breath.” You heard her muffled voice call for Chris on the other end of the line. “Well, on one hand, I’m great, because we were right.” The door to your room slammed open, and a huge paw sent you hurtling across the room, crashing into your closet with a thud. “On the other hand, there is a giant cat in my house.” “There’s what?!” Allison exclaimed, and you heard shuffling in the background. You ducked under the cat’s next swipe, but he caught your arm and your phone tumbled from your hand. Growling, you sent it crashing back into the hallway with a wave of your hand. He yowled, but was back on his feet in a moment, hurtling towards you as you lurched towards the windowsill. You snatched up a handful of painted nettle and tossed it, desperately. The cat hissed, darting backwards, a few burns patterning into his fur where the leaves settled. You could hear Allison trying to talk to you, something about calling Scott, then the telltale beep of the line cutting off. Wary now, the cat circled you as you held the painted nettle plant between you and him, distinctly aware that the only way out was under the cat or out the window. He darted forward and you shot out a hand, throwing him back. But he landed on his feet and ran for you again, slamming into an unseen wall between you. You could feel the wound in your chest still oozing blood, though it should have healed by now, and your head was beginning to spin. Headlights flashed across your window as the Argents’ car hurtled down your quiet street. Your shield flickered with your focus, just long enough for a stray claw to slash across your face, and then you flipped, one clawed foot smashing into the cat’s jaw as you shattered through your bedroom window, plant still clutched to your chest. A few shards of glass embedded themselves in you, but you were more worried about the snarling of the cat behind you. There was a crash as he followed you from the window, then you were both blinded by torchlight. A ragged hiss, and it bounded away, disappearing into the woods behind your neighbour’s house. “(Y/N)?” Allison questioned, as you blinked against the light of her torch, staggering towards their car. You hummed what you hoped was an agreement, holding the plant out to her. She took it, raising an eyebrow. “It works,” you managed, after a beat. Chris rounded the other side of the house, gun still raised.

“Where’s Deaton?” Chris demanded, as Scott let you all into the vets. “He’s on his way.” “Why aren’t you healing?” Stiles frowned. “I think he laced his claws with wolfsbane,” you admitted, looking down at the already-festering cuts on your chest. “He what?!” “He knows what he’s dealing with. That means he didn’t come to Beacon Hills accidentally,” you realised, aloud, as Scott and Chris helped you up onto the operating table. “If he’s laced his claws with wolfsbane, how are we meant to fight him?” Scott fretted, as Chris already began setting to work cleaning around your wounds. “With that.” Allison was still holding the plant you had handed to her, as though she wasn’t sure what the hell else to do with it. “It smells like weed,” Stiles commented, sniffing it suspiciously. “Are you going to feed the killer cat weed? Get it stoned?” “It’s scaredy cat plant,” Deaton corrected, making Stiles jump as he entered. “Plectranthus caninus.” “I was looking into it,” you explained, “As possibly useful, but I wasn’t sure.” “So you went up against this thing with no idea how to hurt it except maybe a plant?” Stiles clarified. “I didn’t invite it over,” you snapped, muffling a shout as Deaton poured antiseptic into one of the scratches. “Can we talk about this after the wolfsbane is out of her system?” Chris prompted, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. Deaton held up a needle, and you groaned, but let him push you down onto the table anyway. “Don’t look at me like that. This will be out of your system in thirty minutes,” he scolded, lightly, jabbing the needle into your neck. “Just lie there and be glad you’re not a real dog.”

When you blinked awake again, the room wasn’t any quieter. Stiles was complaining loudly about supernatural creatures targeting them, while Deaton very patiently pointed out that the town was literally a supernatural beacon, Stiles, and your best friend is a once-in-several-lifetimes rarity, you can move away to college if you want. “He enjoys this too much,” Scott snickered, making Stiles glare at him. “What, it’s true! You’re the one who dragged me out to murder investigations before I was even a werewolf.” Stiles grumbled a response, but you were too busy with the sudden pounding of your head to bother absorbing it. “It’d be really nice if being bitten cured migraines.” The room fell silent, then Chris was at your shoulder, helping you as you struggled to sit up. “How are you feeling?” “I no longer feel like I’ve been attacked by a large cat,” you started, wincing against the lights as Deaton quickly dimmed them. “But I could do without the jackhammer in my head.” Deaton passed you some painkillers, and you smiled gratefully. “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?” Scott asked, peering at you worriedly. “No, this is distinctly a migraine. Give me a few hours of sleep and a handful of painkillers and I’ll be fine,” you assured him, finally settling on just closing your eyes. A shiver ran through you, and you instinctively leaned into the warmth at your side, before it shifted, and you remembered, as Chris’ arm wrapped around your shoulder, engulfing you in his warmth. You didn’t see the three teenagers exchange glances. “We should all get some rest,” Deaton spoke, eventually. “You three – four, I suppose – still have school on Monday. You’ll keep an eye on (Y/N)?” You shot your eyes open, feeling Chris nod above you. “Hold on, I don’t need babysitting!” you protested, though your voice was barely above a whisper. Stiles snickered and you glared at him. “Well you’re not going home alone,” Scott insisted, folding his arms. “Your house was trashed anyway,” Allison pointed out, making you grimace. “There goes my deposit.” “You almost died and you’re worried about your deposit?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “We aren’t all renowned arms-dealers, Argent,” Stiles put in, before you could answer. “In this economy, I’m with her.” You felt the heave of Chris’ sigh, but he didn’t respond.

You climbed out when Chris stopped the car, and barely even bothered protesting as he took your bag. You’d almost given up on arguing with him, he won every time, and your head was already pounding. “I’m going to bed. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Allison kissed her father goodnight and padded up the stairs. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, I’ll make up the spare bed in the morning,” Chris offered, leading the way upstairs as Allison disappeared into her room. “I’ll come by and check on you every couple of hours – I know you’re a shifter, but you still jumped out a window and took a solid hit of wolfsbane.” “I won’t kick you out of your bed, Chris. I can take the couch,” you answered, tiredly. He plopped your bag down at the foot of the bed and turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “You’re already housing me, you don’t need to give up your bed. Or your sleep, for that matter.” You reached for the bag. Chris blocked you. “Just take the bed.” “No!” “(Y/N) –“ “Either we share, or I’m sleeping on the couch.” Chris blinked. “It’s plenty big enough, and then I won’t have to talk you out of checking on me when you need to sleep.” “We’re not teenagers at a sleepover! You were seriously injured!” “Will you two make up your minds so we can all sleep?” Allison called across the hall. “Fine. We can share.” You smiled, triumphantly, as Chris ceded.

#tw violence #tw chase #only one bed trope #only one bed #bed sharing #bed sharing trope #chris argent x reader #chris argent #argent #argent imagine #chris argent imagine #argent x reader #christopher argent #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #pack mom reader #slow burn pack mom

[fanficteen]

gone (1)

carlisle cullen x reader

The first time you met Carlisle, you’d been assuring him that the car hadn’t hit you, despite Bella and Edward’s adamance that it had, in fact, hit you. Bella had a concussion, you reasoned, she might not be remembering correctly. “My son saw the car hit you, Miss (L/N),” he had insisted, escorting you into an interview room. “And I saw your son stop the car with one hand,” you had retorted, folding your arms as he closed the door. “So why don’t we both pretend we didn’t see anything and go on our merry ways, Doctor?” You had made the mistake, then, of looking up and meeting his golden eyes, and immediately the world around you faded from existence. But then he was speaking again and you pushed that to the back of your mind, a problem for another time. “I don’t know what–“ “You remember La Push, don’t you, Doctor?” Realisation calmed his expression, and you had smiled, easily. “I think it’s in both of our best interests that we keep this between us, don’t you?”

It hadn’t been long after that when Bella had insisted on you accompanying herself to the Cullens’ for lunch. “Bella, no offence, but I don’t want to third-wheel the whole time.” “Carlisle was asking after you.” You were sure she knew something. Maybe not what you did, but something. “Please, (Y/N). You know you’re the only one I can invite.” You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. But if I have to watch you snog Edward more than twice, I’m leaving.” “No one says snog, (Y/N).” “Fuck you.”

After that, the next time you were invited to the Cullen house was by Carlisle.

“I’m a witch, not a wolf!” you argued, folding your arms. “I’m not built to be their enemy.” “We are! They’re murder machines (Y/N) and you’re dating their leader!” Jacob growled, furiously. “I can’t help who the universe picks as my soulmate!” “That’s enough!” Billy interrupted, before Jacob could answer. “(Y/N), I know you don’t have a say in this any more than one of us could choose our imprint, but you have to understand that they are dangerous. You’re only a young witch, you don’t have the centuries of knowledge and power that Cullen does.” “He wouldn’t hurt me,” you answered, stubbornly. “They don’t care about anyone except themselves,” Jacob snarled. “Remember that.”

Although they hadn’t said it, the door to the Black household, the place you had long considered home, became much harder for you to step through. In response, you had become a staple at the Cullen house, until a particularly unsuccessful baseball game.

“I need to see Bella.” He was going to deny you again, you knew that. “Charlie, please. He’s gone, I need to see her.” “I’m sorry, (Y/N). She’s not–“ He paused in closing the door as you threw your hand up to catch it. “Wait, who’s gone?” “The Cullens. They’re all – they’re gone.” Charlie’s face softened, slack with realisation. “He’s gone.” You dropped your hand from where you’d caught the door, and turned away, staring blankly into the night. “Why don’t you come in? I can’t promise Bella will come down but… you look like you could use a break.” “No thanks,” you muttered, vaguely, straightening your shoulders. “I should go.” “(Y/N), wait,” Charlie tried, but you ignored him. He stepped out into the rain, but you were already throwing your truck in reverse, leaving him staring out at an empty street. “What the hell is it about the Cullens?”

The house was empty, as it had been when you’d torn through it an hour ago. They hadn’t even locked the doors, the walls and surfaces still lined with invaluable art pieces that Carlisle had no doubt received as gifts or paid relative pittance for so long ago. They don’t care about anyone except themselves. Jacob’s words rang in your ears as you walked the empty path towards Carlisle’s office and stared up at his portrait, bitterly. “If the Volturi are the coldhearted ones,” you murmured, staring into the dull golden eyes of the oil painting, “What does that make you?” He wouldn’t hurt me. You could almost have laughed at the certainty with which you had said it. With which you would have said it until even just a few hours ago.

“(Y/N), I know they left the doors unlocked but it’s still trespassing,” Charlie sighed, for the third time in the months since Carlisle had left. Most nights he didn’t stop you, but every so often he’d show up. He never took you to the station, just escorted you out with those sad eyes and waited til your truck lights faded into the distance. You never responded to him, but tonight, there was something storming in your gut, a fire burning up your throat that even the icy rain wasn’t putting out. “Throw me in jail then,” you snapped, earning some short flash of surprise. “You know I’m not going to do that.” He bundled you into the passenger seat of his truck. He wasn’t even on duty tonight, he just knew he would find you here. By the time you’d registered the familiar roads, Charlie was already turning off the engine and dragging you out of the car. “You’re not serious,” you panicked, vainly pushing away from him. He held you firmly. “Just be glad it’s me dropping you off and not one of my officers,” he answered, but there was none of the severity in his voice that he usually reserved for delinquent kids. “You didn’t think he would start wondering where you were?” You lapsed back into sullen silence as he knocked on the door. A moment passed, and all you could hear was the creak of the wheelchair as the man who’d become your father approached the door. His eyes flicked from Charlie, to you, then he sighed and wheeled back, pulling the door wider open. The silence was heavy as you glared down at your feet. “What the hell did you do?” Jacob demanded, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “She’s not in trouble,” Charlie assured him, finally releasing your arm. “Just…keep an eye on her.”

Something shifted in you the next morning. Your magic came swirling back and so did your rage. If Carlisle didn’t want his soulmate, that was fine. He didn’t have to have you. You left school alone, watching Jacob hop into Bella’s truck with her, before heading east until the roads turned into goat tracks through the woods. You pocketed your car keys automatically, hand hovering over the send button on your phone for a long moment. You shook your head and pressed it before kicking off your shoes and shoving them onto the front seat, along with your jacket, leaving you just in a t-shirt. Your abandoned phone started ringing before you were even out of earshot, but you ignored it, continuing into the tree line.

#carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #carlisle imagine #carlisle cullen imagine #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #cullen x reader #adopted!reader #tw break up #tw depression #anger #new moon #tw murder #tw shouting #angst #witch!reader

[fanficteen]

High (2)

klaus hargreeves x reader

You just wanted a cup of tea, but there they were. The young boy, still in a fine suit, legs dangling from your kitchen counter. Ben hovered nearby, much more visibly anxious. “I thought you were attached to Klaus’ shoulder,” you remarked, looking at Ben, and flicking the kettle on anyway. “Jiminy Cricket.” He rolled his eyes. “As for you, I don’t think we were properly introduced.” “I’m Number Five,” the boy said, nonchalantly. You let a beat pass. “That’s it? They didn’t even give you a name?” He just looked at you, flatly. “Fine. What do you want?” “You can see him.” Five pointed to where Ben wasn’t anymore. “He’s behind you, actually,” you corrected, watching him scrunch up his nose as you proffered the tea bags. “But yes.” You dropped some rosemary into your tea and turned back to him, setting aside a second cup for Ben. “That can’t be unusual to you, Mr Five.” “You’re younger than us,” he continued, distinctly perplexed. You raised an eyebrow. “Yes. I’m 60, actually.” You pursed your lips, but hummed. “I’m not an Umbrella baby, I’m a witch.” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow then. “Don’t believe in witchcraft, after everything you’ve seen? Your brother is named Séance for any god’s sake.” “So that is how you healed Klaus, then,” Five concluded, thoughtfully. “How is he? I can’t imagine you’d blame me for any damage appearing six months later,” you inquired, sipping your tea. “Missing,” Five admitted, finally. You sighed. “I wondered if he was here.” “Well, I won’t say I haven’t seen him around. He spent three days tied up in here after a particularly bad bender – would not have looked good to the police, let me tell you. But he hasn’t been by here in a week.” Ben sighed, exasperatedly, clearly remembering the same night you did: picking Klaus up from a heap in the bar he’d managed to stagger into you in. You had no doubt it had been Ben’s doing that he had found you at all. You tapped your nails thoughtfully on the rim of your mug. “I can help you find him, if you’d like.”

“We don’t have time for this,” the big man was saying – growling, more accurately. Luther, you guessed. Behind him, a monocled man was nodding along. “I have better things to do than babysit a grown man!” “Our brother!” a smaller, dark-eyed man answered, angrily. “Or did you forget that, off on the moon?” “I’m not the one who left!” Luther roared, shoving the other. “Stop it!” The third voice you recognised immediately. Vanya Hargreeves, Number Seven. “Haven’t we all lost enough?” The biggest man opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t get far. “Enough!” It was startling to see a thirteen-year-old boy silence an entire room of adults with a barely raised voice. Even the Monocle looked surprised. “We all have better things to do than listen to you two flex off. Again, might I add. We need to find Klaus.” “Why bother? He’s just as much use in a bar drugged out of his mind as he is when he’s here anyway,” Hargreeves muttered. You fixed your glare on him. “Shut up.” His gaze snapped to you and his eyes widened. “Yeah, I can see you. You’re no help whatsoever, so fuck off and find someone else to bother.” He opened his mouth to respond, but you just folded your arms. “Fuck off before I find the salt.” He walked out and you nodded, satisfied. “Who are you?” the big man demanded. “Who are you talking to?” Five asked at the same time. “A deadbeat dad.” He sighed. You grinned.

“(Y/N) (L/N). You must be Number One.” You didn’t wait for Luther’s response, looking at his brother. “Two, I assume?” “Diego,” Two introduced himself, cautiously. “I’m sorry, but why are you here?” Vanya asked, warily, glancing worriedly at Luther. “To help,” you answered, easily. “I met Klaus a few months ago. He has a way of getting under people’s skin.” “You can say that again,” Diego muttered, tiredly. The second sister shot Five a dirty look, but he was unruffled. “This is a family matter,” she interjected, tightly. “We don’t need people interfering.” “Allison,” Vanya scolded, under her breath. “She’s right,” Luther agreed, looking down at you disdainfully. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this isn’t –“ “I don’t think I’m anyone,” you snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest, “I am Klaus’ friend and I am going to find him, whether you lot are any help or not.” You could feel Five and Ben both shaking their heads at you as anger grew on Luther’s face. Diego snickered and Allison elbowed him. “THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” Luther roared, towering over you at his full height. “I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN LISTEN TO SOME BRAT FRIEND OF MY DRUGGIE BROTHER BOSS ME AROUND!” “AND I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN DRILL REASON INTO YOUR THICK SKULL,” you shouted back, shoving him out of your space. He clearly hadn’t been expecting you to get physical, because he could have resisted easily if he had been prepared. “So why don’t we both lower our voices and go our separate ways? You said it yourself, you have better things to do than look for Klaus. So leave it to me.” Luther grabbed for you as you turned to leave and was instantly thrown away by a sudden blast of silver light. You waved a hand and caught him with the same silvery energy, placing him back on his feet across the room from you. You fixed him with a firm stare. “Let that be a warning. Defensive magic and chatty spirits aren’t the only aces up my sleeves.” You glanced over at Five. “Coming?”

#tw addiction #tw hargreeves family dynamics #tw abusive father #tw drinking #tw drugs #diego is a little shit #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #luther is traumatised and deserves better #the monocle is a piece of shit #tw ghosts #witch!reader #spiritworker!reader #hargreeves x reader #klaus x reader

[fanficteen]

stale blood (3)

chris argent x reader

The months passed peacefully, and the McCall pack slowly let their guards down. Every week, Scott, Stiles, and Lydia would hand in their homework with a little note, giving you a time and address with just the words “pack meeting” above it. Each time you tutored Malia, she would also leave you with a little note at the end of the week. And every week, you would throw the notes away and mark their assignments. Then two of your students turned up with their throats clawed out and suddenly the Sheriff was knocking on your door. “Miss (L/N).” His face was grave, but there was something familiar about him. “Sheriff Stilinski. I just have a few questions to ask you.” Of course. Stilinski. “Come in. Would you like a cup of tea?” The familiar rattle of Stiles’ Jeep lurched along the road outside, but there was another vehicle with it. Just as the Sheriff opened his mouth to respond, there was another knock.

“Bring yourself and your friends in, Mr Stilinski,” you called, not even moving from the kitchen. Stiles and Scott filed in, followed by Allison… and her father. “If I wanted to meet the pack, McCall, I would’ve come to one of those meetings.” Scott, at the very least, had the decency to look apologetic, as he gestured helplessly between Stiles and his now-irritated father. “Stiles, what have I told you–“ “He was only concerned about your wellbeing, Sheriff.” You turned on the kettle. “Would anyone like tea? I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger.” “Does he have need to be concerned?” Stilinski inquired, as Scott and Allison both agreed to tea. Your small kitchen was becoming quite crowded. “Sheriff, if I wanted to kill someone and get away with it, I wouldn’t have clawed their throats out and left them outside my own workplace,” you told him, matter-of-factly. “And I’m not in the habit of killing kids, no matter what hunters might say.” Stilinski glanced over to Chris, who nodded. “She’s a witch. If she wanted someone gone, she could make sure we didn’t even know they ever existed.” His voice was deeper, heavy with the weight of his years, but you weren’t surprised. Neither of you were kids anymore.

Eventually, Stilinski nodded, thanked you, and headed for the door, with a trepidatious Stiles on his tail. Scott and the Argents lingered. “Sheriff.” Father and son paused, glancing back to you. “I know it’s your job, and you’re probably more aware than most cops around here. But I think it’d be best if you take a partner to question suspects from now on. Preferably that Hellhound that’s been sniffing around the school.” A beat passed, in which the Stilinskis had a very in-depth conversation using just their eyes, then he nodded. “Understood.” The door closed behind them. Silence settled around the room as you met Chris’ eyes. “We should go,” you heard Allison prompt, quickly finishing her tea. Chris didn’t move. “Dad?” “It’s been a while, Mr Argent.” There was no escaping this. “I don’t think I thanked you properly.” “You don’t owe me any thanks.” A beat. “I’m sorry.” “For saving my life?” Shock spiralled through his blue eyes. “What happened to my parents wasn’t your fault. In fact, it wasn’t even your father’s fault. They earned what they got.” You offered him a tired, lopsided smile. “Thanks for giving me a chance.” The room was quiet again as Chris gaped at you. You turned to Scott. 

“It’s 7pm tomorrow for the pack meeting, right?” The young alpha also stared at you for a long moment, then a grin crept across his face. “7pm at Derek’s,” he confirmed, happily. “Well, I suppose I can spare a little of my grading time,” you sighed, melodramatically. Scott’s smile widened. “I owe you all a bit of an explanation.” You heard Stiles’ Jeep start up outside, the Sheriff’s car already puttering away down the street. “You’re going to miss your ride.” Stiles’ voice bellowed from outside as you finished your sentence. “We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Scott confirmed, backing towards the door. “8.30am sharp, McCall,” you teased, earning an eyeroll. “Yes, I’ll be there.” “We should go too,” Allison prompted again, as Scott disappeared. Chris nodded, vaguely. “You start the car, honey.” He chucked her the keys and she followed Scott outside. “(Y/N)…” You smiled up at him as he trailed off, so many words welling on his tongue, fighting for first place. “It’s ok, Chris.” And his shoulders dropped, as though he’d held something heavy for too long. And you supposed, in a way, he had. It took you a moment to realise he was crying, silent tears glistening from his piercing eyes. “Thank you.” His voice was barely a whisper, but he knew you could hear him. You just smiled again, a sad, sorry sort of a smile, then he bade you farewell and headed for the door. “Chris?” He paused in the doorway, a raised eyebrow glancing over his shoulder. “What do you know about cats?”

When Scott had said tonight’s pack meeting was going to include everyone, you didn’t think he’d actually meant everyone. It had to be half the town, crammed into the loft. “Derek,” the man who answered the door informed you, holding out a hand. “(Y/N).” “Is this the new girl?” Another face appeared behind him – a little older, fairer, framed in a V-neck tee. “You must be Peter,” you greeted, politely, though all you could see was Lydia huffing about Satan in a V-neck. “A pleasure.” You followed them into a very crowded living room. Allison, Malia, and Lydia were crowded together on one couch, chatting comfortably about some maths assignment. Scott was talking to two boys you didn’t recognise and the slightly older Hellhound you��d seen around. Derek immediately made a beeline for Stiles, who was perched precariously on the kitchen counter reaching for something on a high shelf. Sheriff Stilinski and Chris were talking to another woman you didn’t recognise. Then Malia’s eyes lit up and she was bounding across the room, and you were engulfed in the werecoyote’s enthusiastic embrace. “I was starting to think you weren’t actually coming,” she informed you, happily. “I’m glad you’re finally here.” “Glad to see my daughter likes you more than me,” Peter assessed, wryly. Malia rolled her eyes, but shot her father a grin anyway. By now, you had garnered Scott’s attention, and he took the floor, making the rest of the pack fall quiet.

“First off, a lot of us already know, but I’d like to introduce our newest pack member–“ You raised an eyebrow at that, but Scott just beamed back, unabashed. “Miss (L/N).” “You know, I think you can safely call me (Y/N) out here, Alpha boy,” you pointed out, as though taking the floor wasn’t terrifying. “Give him a few weeks to get used to that one,” the woman piped up, “It took him two months to process that my name wasn’t “Mom”.” Scott blushed, groaning, as laughter smattered through the room. “You must be Mrs McCall, then,” you gathered, holding out a hand to her. “I’m (Y/N), Scott’s history teacher.” “Melissa.” Her smile was warm and gentle, so full of kindness you wondered if it could soothe any wound. And then you were standing in front of a room full of strangers. Not that this was new, as a teacher, but you didn’t usually have to teach a syllabus on yourself.

But you talked anyway. About meeting Chris. About your parents. About Ennis finding you, biting you. About losing your pack brother. And then, about losing your whole pack. About fighting for your life, fighting the man who had almost been your father. About waking up in that hospital with your neck stitching itself back together. “You’re not a wolf, though.” The prompt came from Lydia, keen hazel eyes fixed firmly on you. “No,” you agreed, vaguely. Chris raised an eyebrow. You looked away. “Something went wrong when he bit me. I don’t know if it was because I’m a witch or something else, but… I became a black dog.” “A dog?” one of the boys repeated, raising an eyebrow. “How terrifying. What are you going to do, bark our enemies to death?” “Isaac,” Scott growled. “A black dog,” Allison corrected, turning all eyes to her. “Like a Grim?” “Like a Grim,” you agreed, directing a sharp smile at Isaac. “I don’t think you’d like it if I barked.” He scratched the back of his neck as Stiles snickered. Derek elbowed him. “Now, more importantly,” you turned back to Scott, “I think I know what killed those two juniors.” “Why is nothing ever just a mountain lion anymore?” you heard Stilinski groan. You grabbed your satchel from where it was crumpled by the door, pulling out a huge, old book. “A cat?” Stiles questioned, as you flicked the page open. “A fairy cat,” you corrected, pointing to the page. “A chapalu, cat sidhe, cath palug, whatever you want to call it.” “Fairy cat sounds least threatening,” the youngest boy piped up. “Great, we’ll just call the giant killer cat a fairy until it grows tiny wings and turns pink,” Peter drawled, dryly. “Let a kid dream, not all of us are hardened lunatics,” Stiles retorted, laughing. “Former,” Peter corrected, “I’m much better now.”

“Scott.” The young Alpha paused on the doorstep when Derek said his name, glancing back over his shoulder. “Why does (L/N) smell of blood?” Scott frowned, sniffing the air again. “She always smells like that. I assumed it was a witch thing?” Derek hummed, unconvinced. “Not a witch thing,” Peter mused, “Maybe a Grim thing?” “Or maybe she’s bleeding.” All the wolves’ eyes shot to Melissa as she spoke. “Don’t look at me like that. (Y/N) is a grown woman, I wouldn’t go asking too many questions if she smells a bit coppery now and again.” They all grimaced as Melissa pulled Scott to the car, muttering about damn nosy werewolves.

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