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princesssmars · 1 year ago

Text

practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x witch reader #stiles x reader #witch reader #witch!reader #deaton #scott mcall

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uhhhj13iguess · 2 months ago

Text

thank you for saving me

liam dunbar x fem!reader

wc: ~2.5k

liam’s anxiety and IED isn’t explored and talked about enough in either fanfics or the actual show, so i tried to do this sweet boy some justice. he’s just trying his best

set in season 4, but definitely not too canon

"why did we get sent to the school, aren't we here enough?" you kicked your feet, looking for any sign of kate, or the benefactor, or any clue to absolutely anything going on in your life right now. you'd been scott's beta for all of a few weeks, and all of your spare time had been spent trying not to die. being a werewolf was definitely cool, but you had no idea how exhausting it would be. you'd come to the school with liam, hoping to find something, anything that would give you insight into any one of the millions of things going on.

liam chuckled, walking alongside you. he knew how important it was to find something, but he couldn't take his focus off of you.

the entire ride over he stared at you, watching how the moonlight glistened on your skin as you ranted to him. your hands rested on the steering wheel as you spoke and he admired your hands, how soft they looked, how beautiful your nails were. he watched the lines on your face intensify the more passionate you got about whatever you were talking about — liam didn't know. he didn't care, frankly. anytime you spoke, he was entranced by your oh-so-pretty voice, words having no meaning other than the butterflies they were leaving in his stomach.

you looked at him in the passenger seat, a smirk forming to contrast the flush on your cheeks. he was caught, he knew it. but he couldn’t find himself to mind. he smiled at you, a blush matching on his own face.

he straightened his shoulders out, checking behind him as he passed the chemistry lab. "I don't know, but I hope we find something quick and can get out of here."

you didn't hear what he said.

his fingertips brushed against yours as you walked together and your mind wandered from the plan for the thousandth time that evening. every time liam mindlessly brushed against you, all sight of what you were doing was thrown out the window. your survival anxiety was replaced with limerence, yearning for the touches to linger longer. butterflies flooded your stomach as his hand did just that. in fact, your own heartbeat overtook your senses as you felt liam grab ahold of your hand. you looked up at him, blushing like a madman.

“you had no idea how long —” he shushed you quickly, stopping you dead in your tracks and tilting his head, listening. you tried to tune in to whatever he heard.

liam knew the sound of those footsteps anywhere. they haunted him, not just in his nightmares, but out on the field, in the classroom — wherever he went, they followed. taunting him.

he turned around to see the creature trudging towards them. he felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck and the blood drain from his face. seeing the berserker in front of him again felt worse than he could've imagined, and he froze as the beast made his way towards the two of you.

"liam, what do we do?"

silence.

"liam? should we fight? should we run?"

"liam?"

liam watched in a haze as kira used her katana against the berserker, his vision fading in and out. there was a lot of things he didn't know yet, but these things had to be the craziest he had found out about so far. he didn't know what to do. they were so strong, so fast, and the wounds he'd been given weren't healing. he watched as kira was tossed across the roof like she was nothing.

his breathing quickened.

what was he supposed to do? how did scott do this?

he groaned at the pain, trying to push himself up, only to be kicked back against the electrical panel. his vision blackened and his panic intensified.

seriously, what was he supposed to do? he wasn't strong enough. he couldn't possibly do this. he-

"liam, look out!"

he came to, hearing your voice and feeling you shove against him. he let out a grunt as you took place where he stood: directly where the berserker was aiming his bone-covered fist. you let out a scream as you flew backwards, hitting the ground so hard the tiles shattered beneath where you landed. you clenched your abdomen immediately, blood pooling out of the gashes caused by the sharp bone pointing out of the creature’s knuckle plate.

you choked on your own words, fighting to stay awake as pain coursed through your veins. "l-liam..."

liam's body flooded with rage in a split second. his claws came out and he roared, sprinting at the berserker without a second thought. he threw punches, hard and strong, making the beast before him stumble back. it held defense against liam as he grew more powerful, his anger in seeing you hurt feeding his strength, adrenaline surging through him.

unfortunately, it wasn't enough to keep the berserker down for long. the beast threw a punch, sending liam flying into the lockers with a power ten times that of the beta. with his imprint heavy in the metal, he lay on the ground, spitting blood and scrambling to crawl backwards as the berserker stomped towards him. liam made his way to you, covering you from the incoming a attack, and trying to hide you as far in the corner as he could. as quickly liam flinched away at the berserker breaking into a sprint towards him, he heard the creature stop. he looked up to see it retreating out the high school entrance.

he took a deep breath, looking down at you and assessing the wounds in your side. worry flooded his senses, seeing you barely conscious and feeling how much pain you were in as he grabbed where your arm was holding your stomach. panic bubbled in his throat, breathing beginning to hitch and stagger as he pulled up your shirt to see your wound.

he grimaced at the sight. it was deep, bloody, and most importantly: it wasn't healing.

"shit, (y/n). why did you do that? it shouldn’t have been you, i, fuck."

you groaned slightly, unable to keep your eyes open.

"i'm... i'm okay, l-liam." you slurred out.

"please just, keep your eyes open, (y/n), we're going to get you some help."

liam's ears perked up at the sound of footsteps; this time multiple, yet not as heavy. whoever it was, liam was filled with dread. he needed to get you out of here, and he couldn't do that while fighting off someone else. he began to scoop you in his arms, apologizing relentlessly as you whined, half-consciously whimpering at the pain from being moved. he got to his feet, whispering in your ear that you were okay, that he was taking you somewhere.

"liam!"

his eyes shot up at the sound of scotts voice. he let out a heavy breath at the sight of scott, stiles, and derek running towards you.

"guys, please, she's really hurt. it hurt her, and, and, i-i, i don't know shes not healing. please, help her." he whined.

immediately, derek grabbed you and headed out the way they came. he yelled back on his way out, "I'll meet you guys at deaton's!"

scott whipped his head around to liam after derek had left. "what the hell do you think you were doing?!"

liam stumbled backwards. "w-what?"

stiles crossed his arms. "listen, i know you think you're all tough-guy mr. bad werewolf now, but in case you don't remember how your first fight went, these guys don't lose. and they're fucking huge! are you just stupid or something?"

"i don't she pushed me out of the way and i —”

"liam, why did you attack it? why didn't you run? you guys could've gotten way more hurt than you did. stiles is right, that was stupid of you."

liam felt defeated. not only did he freeze and get you hurt, but he was stupid enough to keep you there in that position while he freaked out on that thing.

he was embarrassed. they were right, he shouldn't have attacked the berserker. he was disappointed in himself, disappointed in how rashly he acted, and how quickly he let his anger take over him. this isn't what scott would've done; this isn't what he should've done. he felt ashamed, his body language following suit to reflect that. scott picked up on the scent change immediately, and his face softened.

"hey, liam —”

"no, you guys are right. i shouldn't even be a part of this, I just explode and mess everything up. I'm sorry, I, I don't know I just saw her hurt and I stopped thinking, I just got so angry and acted like a monster and I —”

"liam!" scott placed his hands on his beta's shoulders, giving him a reassuring look. "you were scared. you reacted, trying to protect (y/n). you're still new to all of this, you're still learning. you're not stupid. I'm sorry we yelled at you."

"no i definitely think he was pretty stupid —"

"stiles!"

"what? tell me i'm wrong, look at those things. even peter runs at the sight of them." stiles scoffed.

scott scowled at his best friend. "go easy on him, dude. we weren't perfect at this either. we still aren't,"

he turned back towards liam. "go, go check in on her. derek took her to the clinic. I'm sure she'll want to see you when she comes to."

liam hesitantly nodded, muttering another apology as he started towards the doors of the school.

"liam!"

he turned back to face scott.

"this wasn't your fault. you kept her safe, don't beat yourself up."

liam opened the door to see derek wide-eyed staring down at him. he barely opened his mouth before he was pulled into the clinic, stumbling in derek’s grasp.

"good, you're just in time.”

light flooded liam's eyes as he entered the exam room, (y/n) laying on the table, still unconscious. his stomach turned and he felt overwhelmed with anxiety once again seeing you lay there, helpless. scott's words of assurance echoed in his head, but he couldn't help but feel guilty. like he could've prevented this.

"in time? for, for what?" liam shuffled to the table where deaton and derek stood.

deaton wore a concerned face — almost apologetic.

"we need you to help hold her down."

liam was puzzled. you were unconscious; why would we need to hold you down?

"i dont understand, what do you mean?"

deaton looked to derek, sorrow painted across his features. “she’s not healing, and she’s getting weaker. it was good you helped get her here as soon as you did.”

he let out a hum, looking at you on the table. derek took over.

“when someone isn't healing and you need to trigger the process, there's a pretty foolproof way to get it up and running again,"

he sighed as liam still wasn't catching on.

"it's... it's pain, liam."

he watched the beta's eyes widen. "pain? no i can't, that's, no please I can’t see her hurt anymore tonight. this is already all my fault, I can't be the cause of any more pain, please, isn't there something else you can do? i, i can't —"

"liam,"

he stopped rambling, meeting derek's eyes. he'd never seen him so... empathic.

"liam, i get it. i know what it's like to be angry." he sighed and looked away.

"i used it as my anchor for years. after watching someone I loved die because of me, I didn't know what to do. i didn't know how to handle anything. so I got angry. and it consumed me,"

he stepped closer towards the teenager. "i know what it's like to feel like a monster."

liam looked down at the ground. he didn't understand what derek was telling him, let alone why he was telling him. he started to shake his head, but he was cut off with a hand on his shoulder.

"you're not a monster, liam. that anger? it makes you powerful. i told that to scott the day I met you — that you were strong. there's no reason your anger can't be used as an advantage. but that's only if you know how to control it and bring it out when you need it,"

"don't let it define you like it did me."

liam made eye contact with him. he heard derek's heartbeat: it hadn't faltered once this whole time. he took a deep breath and nodded.

"okay. what do you need me to do?"

deaton smiled, quickly ushering the two to either side of you.

"liam, stand by her head and hold her shoulders. she'll need a comforting face when coming to. derek, hold her legs. this isn't going feel great."

liam gripped hard on your shoulders. "wait, what are you —"

deaton didn't waste any time grabbing your forearm and pushing down, hard. the sound of bone snapping cracked throughout the room, causing a similar sensation in liam's chest. his eyes widened at the realization of what was happening.

you shot up with a roar, eyes flashing gold as you screamed in pain. you snapped your arms out of the grasp of those around you, your free hand flying to the broken, immediately resetting it with another painful wail.

with the bone back in place, you took a deep breath, panting as you slowly leaned back down on the exam table. everyone gathered around you, watching with hope as you grew more and more with it.

you lifted your shirt as a tingling sensation flooded your abdomen, all of you watching as the gashes in your side slowly started to patch themselves up. liam let out sigh of relief, staggering back a few feet as solace washed over him. you were okay.

deaton gave you a reassuring smile, patting you on the knee. "good to have you back with us, (y/n). i think we'll let you guys be for a second, you're safe here."

he and derek left the room, quietly discussing their plan for the rest of the evening. liam let his head hang in his hands, wanting to cry at the feeling of relief in seeing you heal. you saw him from where you were laying on the table, slowly sitting up with a whine to face him. he grabbed your arms, helping stabilize you.

"(y/n) i'm so glad you're okay. i can't tell you how afraid i was seeing you hurt. i don't know what i'd do with myself if anything happened to you, I don't, I just —"

you wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, hugging him as tightly as you could, not a thought in your mind on the pain shooting through your side. liam stood frozen, not sure what was happening. you let out a sob and held him tighter, causing him to instinctively wrap his arms around you.

"thank you for saving me, liam."

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