#tw gen fic x reader

On the way back from running an errand for your brother, you stop by an auto garage for a tune-up for your car. Once there, you run into a bit of trouble but it’s nothing you can’t handle. Unfortunately, the humans you’ve made friends with are dragged into the mess.

PART ONE|PART TWO | PART THREE

Words: 5.9K 
Author’s Note: Third and FINAL update to this little series. 
You guys get an early update because today starts my town’s local festival, and our cell service and wifi signal is about to be hit and miss starting tomorrow when everyone flocks to our town. 

Your first year in Charming was spent putting down roots and getting to know the men of the infamous Sons of Anarchy. A majority of them were hesitant to let you in since you weren’t an Old Lady or a croweater/sweetbutt, but since you had some of the most important members of their club in your corner, the men quickly learned to show you some respect. The sweetbutts had no idea about you or the supernatural world since it was top secret knowledge within the club, so it was a fun night for all when one overstepped the line with you, and you easily put her in her place.

Juice had found you the perfect piece of land away from any other dwelling, and you had bought it and put plans to have a house built on it as soon as you could into motion. The club thought that the five bedroom, three and a half bath house you had plans for was a little excessive for just you, but after explaining that it was a pack house, they understood. And when you weren’t dealing with the construction crew, you were jogging all around Charming to make sure your scent would saturate anything and everything you touched.

SAMCRO was filled with many members that you met with nearly on a daily basis, but you only ever found yourself drawn to a handful of them. Gemma, Jax, Juice, Chibs and Opie were the main ones you found yourself scenting as pack, and eventually Clay and Happy wormed their way under your wolf’s paw.

Over the months, the club got to meet many other wolves and supernatural creatures who were just passing through or congratulating another respectable Hale becoming an alpha. Fortunately, none ever challenged your authority which meant a majority of the club never got to see you in action. Then when your house was finally finished, you asked Gemma to help you decorate and furnish it. She was more than up to the task, loving every second of it and gloating in front of Jax and Opie that the house was just amazing. The men did their damnedest to get a glimpse of the house, but you refused them, even Juice who tried to wheedle his way in by suggesting he install a security system all around your property. He had a good idea, but it wasn’t something that needed to be installed just yet.

It’s been a week that you’ve now been sleeping in your own house and a week since Gemma told you she was throwing a housewarming party. She only invited club members, but club members that you usually found yourself speaking with, and you invited Derek and the betas.

Derek, Isaac, Erica and Boyd were the firsts to show up the day of the housewarming party- your brother prepping the grill outside for the steaks to be added as soon as everyone showed up. Gemma showed up next and you weren’t surprised she and Erica got along swimmingly. The three of you then ended up prepping and wrapping potatoes to be tossed onto the grill, and shucking some corn to be added as well.

As you follow Gemma and Erica outside to leave the corn and potatoes on a table, you find Isaac and Boyd settling two kegs into buckets of ice. “Jesus,” you mutter. “We’re not throwing a kegger, boys.”

Boyd flashes you a smile. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

Your nose wrinkles. “Ugh. Graduation night, right? When Stiles spiked the punch?”

“You were so wasted.” Isaac chuckles. “Isn’t that the night Derek caught you in the bathroom with Brett?”

Your eyes widen as Derek growls. “Thanks for bringing that up, Lahey.”

“Wait a minute.” Gemma glances between all of you. “I thought you couldn’t get drunk?”

“You know how wolfsbane is lethal to us?” She nods. “Well mixed just right with some other herbs and then dropped into whatever we’re drinking, we’re totally fucked,” you say.

She slowly smirks. “I need to get my hands on these herbs.”

Everyone laughs and then the sounds of roaring engines meet your ears. You perk up and Erica smirks knowingly at you. “Your boy’s here.”

“He’s not my boy!”

Her eyes roll. “I don’t get why you don’t just bang him. The two of you are no strangers to casual sex.”

“Can we not talk about my baby sister banging Jax? Thanks.”

You mentally facepalm as Gemma’s eyes widen. “I knew it.”

“Knew what? There’s nothing going on,” you say while trying to also walk away.

“But you want there to be?”

You open your mouth to retort, but snap it shut and shrug. There was no use lying to Gemma. “I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to something happening, but I’m not gonna pursue it either. While casual sex between pack members is not unusual, your son is the Prez of SAMCRO who has every croweater throwing their panties at him. Us wolves are territorial in case you haven’t noticed. It wouldn’t work out ”

Gemma just cocks an eyebrow at you and you shrug once more before turning around and jogging ‘round the side of your house. Jax, Opie, Clay, Chibs, Juice and Happy are all standing before your house, staring up at it in awe.

“You think the outside looks good, then you should see the inside.”

Jax is the first to look at you and a lazy smile blossoms across his face. He saunters over to you, gaze darting between you and the house before he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “The house looks dope. We finally gonna get that tour?”

“Yes.” You laugh.

Clay and Chibs greet you with a kiss to the cheek as well, but it’s Chibs who mentions, “The housewarming gifts are all back at the club. Couldn’t exactly fit them on the bike, darling.”

“That’s alright,” you assure him.

Opie and Juice get hugs, and you stare at Happy long enough to gauge where his social meter is at today. You consider him pack, but he’s one individual that isn’t one for touch unless it’s a croweater he’s having his way with. But for you, you’ve noticed, he’ll allow touching to keep your werewolf tendencies at bay. So when you see him crack the faintest of grins, you move in and grab onto his forearm in greeting.

“Hey, Hap. Good day?”

The bald headed, heavily tattooed man shrugs. “Can’t complain.”

“Good.” Then glancing back at everyone else again, you gesture to the front door. “Well go on. Everyone’s out back already and the betas somehow produced kegs from thin air. Derek’s put the corn and potatoes on the grill, and he’s about to put the steaks on too.”

“Oh hell yes,” Juice exclaims, rubbing his stomach.

You shake your head and follow the men up the porch steps. They nose about the living room, making impressed noises about the kitchen, then peek into the dining room, washroom, study, the half bath, and the two bedrooms downstairs that share a bathroom.

You follow everyone as they stomp upstairs, chuckling softly to yourself as they file into every room. You nearly cackle at the way Happy puts a smiley face sticker on the door jamb to one of the rooms, then stoically meets everyone’s gaze and says, “Dibs.”

Jax and Juice immediately kick up a fuss, telling Happy he can’t call dibs on a room. When he doesn’t crack under their barrage, both men look at you in order to back them up.

Instead, you shrug. “I have four extra bedrooms. Did you think I had them built just in case you guys only wanted to crash here? I knew Jax, Opie, Clay and Gem wouldn’t since you all have your own houses, wives, and kids, but the others are free to do whatever they want.”

“So if I wanted to move in..” Juice starts, already thinking over it

“Then you move in.” You grin. “If there are any spare bedrooms after we’re all settled in, then they can be used by anyone else when they feel the urge to sleep over.”

Juice practically fist pumps the air, talking about not sleeping in his shitty apartment or dorm at the club anymore and Happy mentions the same thing. Chibs, Clay and Opie can only shake their heads in amusement as Juice and Happy start talking about moving their shit in asap.

“What if I hate my house?” Jax asks. “Then could I move in too?”

You eye the blonde biker until he slowly starts to grin at you and you roll your eyes. “Yes, Jax. If you don’t want to pay anymore on that mortgage of yours, move on in.” Then looking between all three of your roommates, you also mention, “The rooms are also soundproofed, so if your croweaters make an appearance, you’re cleaning that shit up as soon as you’re done. I don’t want this house reeking of spunk.”

“Yes, mother,” Juice mumbles.

You pin him with a glare and let a low growl reverberate through your throat. “Try me, Juicy. I will cockblock you if I have to.”

His eyes widen and Opie snorts before slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, little alpha. I think I smell those steaks your brother’s got going.”

“Wait, what about this room?” Jax asks, hand already on the doorknob to the closed bedroom door.

“Don’t even think about it,” you tell him. “That’s mine and if you see it, I have a feeling I’m going to come home to one of you three neanderthals in it. Gemma’s already napped in it and she threatened to shoot me when I woke her.”

Clay chuckles. “Yep. That sounds like my old lady.”

Jax’s eyes sparkle and you take a step in his direction. “Jackson..”

“YN..”

Just as you lunge for him, he opens the door and stumbles into your room. “Holy shit.”

You close your eyes and groan as the rest of the Sons spill into your room. You know what they’re seeing- king sized bed with numerous fluffy pillows and plush comforter, large flatscreen mounted on the wall across from the bed, and the recliner and small sofa on the opposite sides of your room. Opie opens your walk-in and whistles appreciatively, and then Jax swears again as he enters your bathroom.

“You really went all out, huh?” He wonders.

“What can I say, I like my comforts.”

“Uh huh.” Jax continues to look around until his gaze lands on you again. “You know, this room is pretty fuckin’ fit for a president.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes narrow. “And my foot is pretty fuckin’ fit for a president’s ass. Wanna try it out?”

The Sons roar with laughter and then Clay’s slinging an arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go see what fresh hell my old lady and that blonde she-wolf are gettin’ up to.”

As you head outside, everyone but your brother is already seated at the table. Whoops and words of greeting are exchanged before Clay and Chibs make a beeline for your brother. You smile as they greet him, clapping him on the shoulders and then getting a peek at dinner. Juice and Happy make a beeline for the keg, and you head for the table. Just as you head for one of the chairs, you’re surprised when Jax pulls it out for you and gestures for you to sit. And apparently your surprise is still etched into your features after you sit, letting Gemma and Erica see a glimpse of it and snort with amusement. A moment later you’re scowling, but then smiling again as Jax passes you a cup of beer.

Eventually Derek, Clay and Chibs join the table, and everyone sits, chatting and laughing while the food cooks. Gemma is not happy to hear that Jax has plans to sell his house, but she doesn’t want to show how pleased she is that her son is moving into your house. The all knowing glint in her eyes lets you know you’ll be hearing more about that later.

Erica’s sharing the story of when a kanima was let loose on Beacon Hills, and you’d been paralyzed in a swimming pool with the human who’d had the biggest crush on you as the only person keeping you afloat, when your ears pick up on gravel crunching under tires.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and you shift in your seat, angling to get better hearing when Derek says, “I might have invited a few more people.”

“Who?”

Jax and Opie tense on either side of you, but Erica’s words make you relax. “College kids are on break. Any guess as to who banded together to finally congratulate you on your new werewolf status and the house?”

Your eyes widen before you laugh and you stand up from your chair just as the pack of four round the corner of your house. “Batman!”

“Supergirl!” You laugh as you break out into a jog in order to meet Stiles Stilinski in a bone crushing hug.

“Who the hell is that?” Jax grumbles. Gemma hides her smile behind the rim of her cup.

“Stiles Stilinski,” Erica muses. “He’s the one who held our precious YN afloat in that swimming pool I was just telling you about.”

Jax tenses in his seat, glaring at the duo hugging it out before YN moves onto a laughing Asian girl.

“Relax,” Derek mumbles. “Stiles is dating that redhead next to him. Has been since the end of their high school career.”

“So who exactly are these kids?” Gemma wonders.

“Well Stiles is the first one YN hugged,” Erica tells her. “Kira was the second, Lydia is the one she’s hugging now, and the adorable puppy waiting his turn is alpha Scott McCall.” Gemma raises an eyebrow at hearing an alpha be called an adorable puppy. “What? It’s true. Scott’s the definition of pure and wholesome. He didn’t even have to kill an alpha to take their power, he just rose to his rank. He’s what we in the werewolf community call a true alpha, an alpha who rises to their power rather than take it from another.”

The Sons are kept from asking anymore questions as YN leads the McCall pack towards them. Introductions are had, handshakes are given, and you huff with amusement when Jax squeezes Stiles’ hand a little too hard though you have no idea what that’s about.

“So are we good to be nosy or are your alpha instincts still sensitive?” Stiles asks.

“Knock yourself out, Stilinski. Just don’t enter the room that has a smiley sticker on the door jamb. That’s Happy’s room and he doesn’t like people entering his space.”

“Which one is Happy again?” Everyone looks in Happy’s direction as the man in question stares Stiles down, sipping his beer without a word. “Right,” Stiles nervously chuckles. “Stay out of the scary biker’s room. Got it. Let’s go, Kira. I know you wanna look around too.”

As Stiles and Kira disappear into your house, everyone settles around the table once more.

“So..” Scott hesitates as all eyes are suddenly on him, but he only has eyes for you. “How are you settling in as an alpha?”

“It’s been good,” you tell him with a smile. “It helped that as soon as I met these fellas, I connected with them before I even turned alpha.”

“Is everyone human or..?” Lydia wonders.

“All human, all bikers,” you say. “Except for Gem, she’s Clay’s old lady and Jax’s mom, but she’s a stone-cold bitch and I love her all the more for it.”

Gemma raises her cup in cheers. “You know it, baby.”

Jax nudges your arm and when you look at him, he gestures to Lydia who’s rubbing her temple and flinching at something even though her eyes are closed. “Hey, Lyds,” you call out. “You okay over there?”

Scott immediately looks at her, placing a hand on her shoulder as she says, “Yeah. It’s just.. there’s so much death.” Your pack tenses. “Everyone’s talking at once and I can decipher what they want me to know.”

You gulp. “Lydia’s a banshee,” you murmur quietly, but still loud enough for everyone around the table to hear. “The voices of the banshees that came before her whisper to her every now and then, warning her about something on the horizon or replaying death echoes of those who lost their lives.”

The Sons wince and Lydia’s eyes open, though it’s easy to spot the tension in her frame. “I’m good. Promise.”

“Okay.”

Kira and Stiles step out onto the back porch then, and Stiles hops down eagerly as he makes his way to the table. “That bed is perfect for puppy piles. You guys get puppy piles, right?”

“Goddammit, Stiles, stop calling them puppy piles.” Stiles looks at you, eyes sparkling with mirth. “And to answer your question, no. The pack has not bonded that way. Three of them are married, two of them to each other, and the others don’t.. cuddle.”

“Hold up,” Juice says, slowly smirking. You groan at the look on his face. “Puppy piles?” He muses. “Have you been holding out on us, YN?”

“Fuck off, Juice.”

The table laughs, but Juice doesn’t let up. “What does a puppy pile consist of?”

“Stop calling it a puppy pile!”

Erica’s red painted lips stretch into a smile. “Puppy piles are just another way for a pack to become closer. It’s exactly what you think it is- a cuddle session. Everyone in the pack piles onto one bed or the floor and just sleeps. We usually have one when something traumatic happens and the pack just want to assure each other that they’re okay.”

Your pack looks at you, but you don’t meet their gazes. There have been plenty of instances when someone threatened your boys and you’ve hovered, but you never mentioned anything about a puppy pile to them.

Stiles snickers. “Who was it that woke up with their face pressed into YN’s chest and couldn’t look her in the eye for a week?”

“Isaac.” Erica reaches over and pinches her pack mate’s reddening cheek.

Derek finally chuckles then, standing up and gripping Isaac’s shoulder. “Come help me check the food. If you linger any longer, I’m afraid Jax is gonna shoot you.”

Gemma cackles and you groan, sinking into your seat. Your brother and pack were the worst.

“What am I missing?” Clay rumbles. You watch as Gemma leans over and mumbles something into his ear, his gaze then darting between you and his stepson. “Yeah, I can see it.”

“The fuck you can.” You get up, cheeks reddening as the table’s occupants laugh while you head over to your brother.

Isaac is pulling out the corn, laying them on a baking sheet before doing the same for the potatoes. You head inside to start bringing out the extra condiments for the potatoes and corn, and Gemma isn’t too far behind to collect plates and utensils.

“Grub’s done. Come and get it,” you call out.

You and Derek stand back to watch how everyone mingles with each other, grinning as your pack playfully shoves one another as they make a line. There’s more than enough steaks to go around, so everyone gleefully helps themself. And when everyone has their plates full, you go around the table and ask if anyone wants a refill on their beer.

You’re the last one to serve yourself, but you’re also the one everyone waits for to sit down before they all dig in. Then moments later, many are complimenting the chef and host, and wondering when the next pack dinner can take place.

Scott and his pack share a few stories about their college shenanigans, your pack shares a few stories about the club that can’t incriminate them in anything, and Derek’s pack shares a few stories that include you in order to embarrass you.

Food is eaten and a few more drinks are had since everyone was driving somewhere after the night was done, and all in all it’s a very good night.

Lydia zones out more often throughout the night, but eventually it happens too frequently to go ignored. Everyone is paying her more and more attention, and even the humans know something is really wrong. The redhead gasps and pushes herself away from the table, and all talking ceases.

“Shit,” you utter as Stiles stumbles after her.

“What’s going on?” Jax asks you.

“Remember how I said Lydia’s a banshee?”

“Yeah.”

“Well what are banshees known for?”

Chibs’ eyes subtly widen. “Screamin’ when death is near.”

“Yep.”

“Scream,” Stiles says. “Lydia, scream.”

“Cover your ears!”

Your hands slam over your own ears just as Lydia opens her mouth, jaw clenching as the banshee’s wail still irritates your sensitive ears.

She wails for several long seconds, and when she’s done there’s a hand immediately on your back. You glance to your right, meeting Jax’s astonished gaze.

“Crows cawing.” Lydia’s words make you snap to attention. Her eyes are filled with information that only she’s privy to. “Cawing crows.. and snarling?”

“Well the snarling can be any supernatural creature,” Scott says. “But I don’t know about the crows.”

“SAMCRO.” Clay’s words make you tense.

You glance around at your SAMCRO pack members, heart dropping into your stomach. “The clubhouse,” you realize. “They’re gonna attack the clubhouse.”

One moment everyone’s just looking at each other, and the next everyone’s scrambling out of their seats and running around the house to the front. Jax’s hand wraps around yours and you don’t even fight him when he makes a beeline for his bike. He doesn’t have to tell you to climb on, you already doing it the second he’s settled. You can see everyone scrambling onto their bikes or throwing themselves into a car, and then everyone’s racing towards Teller-Morrow Automotive.

When you pull up to the garage/club, you hop off the back of Jax’s bike and rush forward. In the lot, the SAMCRO members who’d stayed behind are all on their knees with several individuals standing behind them. Your pack forms a line behind you, guns being pulled from their waistbands or from some place they’d been stashed on their bikes.

The scent of the trespassing wolves fill your nostrils and your eyes flare red in annoyance. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Red and yellow eyes flare right back- one alpha, five betas- and the alpha chuckles. “You surprise us, lone wolf. Here I thought I could leave you a present, but then you come rolling in with human filth before we can finish.”

You snarl, teeth and claws elongating. “If you touch any one of them, I promise you, you won’t be walking off this lot.”

“Yeah?” The trespassing alpha smirks. “And how do you suppose you’re going to stop me, lone wolf? Your scent is the only scent stinking up this little town.”

“I might be the only supernatural being in my pack,” you say, letting your lips curl into a smirk, “but you picked the wrong day to attempt a takeover.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because us Hales stick together.” Derek steps forward, followed by Erica, Boyd and Isaac. All their eyes flare red and yellow.

“And I don’t like wolves who hurt humans on purpose.” Scott steps forward, eyes flaring red, followed by Kira. She grips the buckle of her belt and whips the entire thing off in one go as it snaps into a wickedly sharp katana.

The trespassing pack doesn’t look so confident now.

“What do you want to do, YN?” Derek asks. “This is your territory, your decision.”

“The less gunfire, the better. We don’t want the cops coming here. Subdue them.”

As if those were the magic words, every trespassing wolf shoves down a SAMCRO member who’d been on their knees and jumps over them. You, your brother, and friends meet them head on- wolf vs. wolf and wolf vs. kitsune.

The outcome of the fight should be a no-brainer- their six to your seven- but somehow in the middle of all the snarling, slashing and biting, the trespassing alpha gets the drop on you. You didn’t have to keep an eye on all the humans who had stood back, itching to shoot, but you did get momentarily distracted when two betas jumped on Derek after knocking Isaac and Erica out.

A metal pipe whips across your face, the momentum behind the hit causing your whole body to turn and stumble. A kick to the back of your knee sends you to your hands and knees, and then the pipe is being shoved into your back and out your chest.

Your head whips back as you roar in pain and rage, and the fight all around you comes to a halt.

Opie and Clay have to keep a hold of Jax the moment they see YN get whipped across the face with a pipe, everyone’s heart dropping into their stomachs when the pipe is then shoved through her body. The alpha standing over her chuckles, his red eyes scanning the humans in amusement.

“Hey. Hey!” Jax calls out, crouching a little so he can catch YN’s red gaze. As she pushes further up on shaky arms, a little bit of his tension bleeds out. “What’s the play here?”

Supernatural red meets human blue, top lip trembling in rage. “Kill them.”

“You heard her, boys. One and done, but that red eyed prick is mine.”

“If you’re with me, now’s the time to duck,” you mumble.

Just as Jax stands tall and takes aim, your brother and friends immediately fall to the ground. Opie, Clay, Chibs, Juice and Happy all take one shot, letting the alpha look around in surprise as his entire pack falls to the ground with a smoking bullet hole in their head, and then Jax pulls his trigger when the alpha looks back at him.

You fall to your side just as the alpha gripping the pole falls dead, groaning in pain at the metal still sticking out of your body.

“What the hell was that?!” Stiles exclaims.

You wince as pain wracks your body just as Gemma tells everyone you’d made SAMCRO switch to wolfsbane bullets in case of something like this ever happening.

Hands find your shoulders and you growl, but then Chibs’ voice is telling you it’s just him. “Easy, lass. Easy,” he says. He quietly swears, speaking to another individual who’s yet to touch you. “We might need to get her to a hospital.”

“No.” You grit your teeth, forcing yourself onto your hands and knees before sitting back on your knees. Immediately, you meet Jax’s wide eyes. “Pull it out. I’ll heal.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true.” Derek steps up behind Jax, smirking as he looks down at you. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Remember when I was in this exact position, and you mocked me?”

“Fuck. You.”

“Take a deep breath in because this is going to suck. A lot.”

Derek walks around you and places one hand on your shoulder, grasping the metal pipe sticking out from just below your breastbone with the other. He yanks before you can even inhale deeply. You roar, but your eyelids quickly flutter as you start to fall back.

“Oh shit.” Hands catch you and suddenly there’s pressure against your back and front. Your arms are draped around necks and then you’re being helped into the club. “Get more towels. Set her on the pool table.”

You’re in a haze of pain as you’re led inside the club, mumbling about buying a new pool table as you’re laid out on it. More towels or sheets or whatever they’d found are shoved under your back and pressed down onto your front, and you whimper in pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Your eyelids flutter open and you see Jax worriedly staring down at you.

“M'fine,” you tell him, flashing him a faint smile. “Just hurts.”

He gulps. “I need to make sure my brothers are good. You better not die on our pool table.”

“Never.”

You grin and then wince when Jax turns around, yelling that the clubhouse is now in lockdown.

Pressure just under your chest lessens and you grimace when you feel your shirt being lifted.

“Oh god. Oh that’s so gross. Derek, stop looking into the gaping wound,” Stiles mumbles.

“Stop being a little bitch, Stilinski,” you mumble back and then swat at the hands holding your shirt up. “Put it down. Let me heal in peace.”

“You gonna be good here?” Your brother asks. “We have bodies to bury.”

“Yeah. Go.” You shoo him away. “Ask Happy for help. He’ll know the best locations to dig.”

“Alright.”

Your brother, his pack and Scott’s pack take their leave after having a brief conversation with Happy and Juice. And just when your eyes close, you feel a presence hovering over you.

Breathing in deep, you figure out who it is. “Gem.”

“Hey, baby. Are you really gonna be okay?”

You smile and briefly open one eye, nodding. “Yeah. I just need to rest up. It’s gonna suck, but I’ll be good.”

“Okay.” A moment passes and then, “I know I’ve seen you fight before, but tonight was pretty badass.” You huff a quiet laugh. “And that little Asian girl? She’s not human, is she? I thought I saw her eyes glowing orange.”

“She’s not. Kira’s a kitsune.”

“So a banshee and a kitsune,” she muses. “These are some interesting friends you’ve got.”

“You think that’s interesting, you should meet Deputy Parrish.”

You can practically hear the sneer in her voice as she asks, “A pig?”

“Don’t be rude. Parrish is a decent guy. He also happens to be a hellhound.”

When Gemma falls quiet, you open your eyes and find her looking a little surprised. “Huh. Those exist?”

“Yeah. He gets all glowy-eyed, fangy and claw-y like the rest of us.” She snorts. “But his body also erupts into flames.”

“Damn. I bet that’s a sight to behold.”

“Oh for sure. Especially since the only piece of clothing that’s left on him after a fight are his boxer briefs.” You and Gemma chortle with laughter, but then you groan in pain and shoo her away so you can get some relaxation.

                    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sometime later, you’re awoken when your hear quiet chatter all around. You attempt to sit up, groaning when every muscle in your body protests since you’d been laying in one position for so long.

“Hey. Careful.”

You wrinkle your nose at Jax, grinning a moment later as he sweeps his hair out of his eyes. “M'fine. I need a shower. And a bed.” You yawn. “I need to get home.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Club’s on lockdown.”

“Jax,” you whine. “I don’t wanna sleep in any of your sex dens. The smell of stale cum wreaks havoc on the senses.”

He snorts. “Don’t worry. I had a prospect clean my room from top to bottom recently. You’re good.”

“I don’t have clothes here.”

“Lydia went to the house and picked up some stuff for you before she left.”

“So the packs left then?”

“Yeah. Your brother and his pack grabbed a motel room nearby though. He’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Joy,” you deadpan. You absentmindedly scratch at your wound, wincing a little before picking up your shirt to look at it. By now it just looks like a wet scab and you sigh. “So that shower?”

“Follow me.” Jax smirks and you hop off the pool table, following after him.

When you get to Jax’s dorm and he opens it up, you’re relieved that it actually does smell just like him and only him. One of your duffel bags is on his bed and you head over to it to open it up and rummage through it for an outfit. You don’t say a word as he leads you into the bathroom, starting it up for you and keeping a careful eye on you.

“I got it from here,” you say as the steam starts filling up the small space. “Thanks, Jax.”

Offering him a faint smile, you keep still as he steps into your space. On hand raises, hesitantly cupping the side of your face as his eyes trace over every feature. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm. Just tired. I’ll be good by morning.”

“I’ll be right outside then.”

Jax leaves you be and as the door shuts behind him, you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart’s even pumping a little quicker than usual and you mentally get your emotions in check before you start stripping.

The hot water feels phenomenal and you take a moment to rinse all the blood off before grabbing Jax’s bar of soap and lathering yourself up. Then once you feel a little more like yourself, you step out and dry off as much as you can. You run your fingers through your hair just enough until you can tie it up into a messy bun then pull on a sports bra. You pull on underwear and a small pair of sleep shorts, and then sleepily stumble out into Jax’s room.

You’re not surprised to find him there, but you are a bit surprised to find him in nothing but basketball shorts. He glances up at you and smirks. “Been texting with Erica,” he says while tossing his prepaid cell aside. “Says skin on skin is good for healing.”

“It is.” You narrow your eyes at him as his smirk widens.

“Sorry we can’t fit any of the others in my bed, but I’m hoping you’ll be fine with just me.”

“You encouraging this is only going to make the teasing worse.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” you say, walking over to his bed and climbing into it so you’re closest to the wall.

Jax chuckles as he climbs in after you and you don’t waste a second before you’re tucking yourself under his arm, laying your head on his chest and slipping a leg over his thigh. You let your body relax, eyes closing, only to pinch his stomach when he says, “So if this is a puppy pile, I honestly wouldn’t mind doing this every night. But just you and me. I don’t like to share.”

You huff a laugh. “But pack cuddles are for the entire pack, Jax. It’s a form of bonding.”

“Fine. Then only you and I get to strip down and bond like this. All clothes stay on when Juice and Chibs are involved.”

“And Happy?”

This time, Jax laughs. “You really think Happy’s gonna cuddle?”

“I don’t know,” you tiredly muse. “I managed to get him to let me hug him. I’m pretty sure I’ll at least get to sleep in the same bed as him, even if we’re a few feet apart.”

“Fine. If you manage to wear down Happy, clothes stay on.”

“You’re making a lot of rules for someone who’s basically just a beta.”

“Oh sweetheart, you and I both know there’s more going on between us than just the relationship of an alpha and her beta.”

You bite back a grin. “I’m pretty sure your mom wants me to jump your bones.”

His chest shakes with quiet laughter. “I’m pretty sure I want you to too.”

“Mhm. We’ll revisit this conversation after I’ve healed and go from there.”

“Done. Night, darling.”

“Night, Jax.”

On the way back from running an errand for your brother, you stop by an auto garage for a tune-up for your car. Once there, you run into a bit of trouble but it’s nothing you can’t handle. Unfortunately, the humans you’ve made friends with are dragged into the mess.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Words: 4.1K
Author’s Note: Violence. Some good ‘ol fashion wolf vs. wolf action.

The parking lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive is tense.

Gemma and the men had taken your words seriously, pulling out weapons from their hiding spots and arming themselves. Though they do keep a respectable distance from you as you angrily pace back and forth, texting your brother every now and then.

“So.. werewolves, huh?” Juice wonders. You glance at him, eyes narrowing as you try to determine whether he’s actually curious or what.

And seeing that he actually does look curious, even as his brothers nudge him to shut him up, you grin. “Yeah. There’s so much you don’t know about the supernatural world, man. I’ll tell you about it later if I live through this night.”

That stops everyone short. “You don’t think you’re gonna make it?”

“M'not sure,” you answer distractedly. “Alphas are more powerful than a beta or omega, but it is possible for them to fall to a less powerful wolf.”

“So your family,” Gemma says, arms crossed and foot tapping as she stares you down, “was that all bullshit or..?”

“Definitely not bullshit. I just left out a few key details.”

“Such as?” She asks.

“Such as the fact that the bitch who targeted my family came from a family of werewolf hunters. They had a code to only hunt wolves who hunted humans, but she defected. She killed all wolves, no matter if they were good or bad, and who better to take out than the one wolf family who was highly respected in the werewolf community.”

“And the relationship with your brother? That true too?”

“Yeah. She needed to know the ins and outs of our home, and when a majority of the Hales would be in the same place at the same time. I had family who were human, including the ten month old, and she didn’t care. As long as they bore the name Hale, she thought they deserved to die.”

“You said your uncle got justice for the family. He kill her?” Opie asks.

You glance at him and give him a nod. “He ripped her throat out. And then my brother ripped his out.”

Everyone frowns, but it’s Jax who mutters, “What the fuck.”

You chuckle, scenting the air real quick to make sure no one is approaching, and then explain. “When they pulled my uncle from the fire, his body had trouble healing. He was basically trapped in his mind, slowly going crazy. Fast forward years later when my sister gets lured back to Beacon Hills and my mostly healed uncle kills his own niece for her alpha power.” The men and Gemma all stare at you in shock. “He wanted her alpha power to start his own pack and hunt down those responsible for the fire. So when me and my brother came back, and figured everything out, we let him get his revenge before my brother tore his throat out and became the next Hale alpha.”

“So what, you both just picked right back up in the place your family was burned alive?” Jax asks.

“Yes. We rebuilt our home and opened the garage. Those kids I told you about, the ones who work in the garage? My brother gave them the option to take the bite since it was fifty-fifty it would take. A bite from an alpha can either kill you or turn you. It cured Erica of her epilepsy, let Isaac be strong enough to stand up to his father, and gave Boyd a new family. It’s our job to protect Beacon Hills and it’s people from supernatural threats.”

Everyone goes quiet as your words sink in.

Eventually, Juice snorts. “So do you like get furry on the night of the full moon?”

Opie, Jax and Chibs all start to laugh.

“Only those with great power can turn into an actual wolf. I only have a-” Your ears perk up at the sound of slowly approaching vehicles and you tense. You glance over your shoulder, scent the air, and let loose a low growl. “Enough about me. We’ve got incoming.”

“How many?” Jax is immediately at your side as you face the gates.

“Four.”

He scoffs. “Easy.”

“Four wolves against one wolf and five humans? I don’t know, Jax.” Two vehicles park outside of the opened gates, but only one man gets off. “Stay behind me,” you mumble.

You’re not surprised to have these bikers spread out on either side of you, but you are surprised when Gemma joins them. Red eyes flare, which causes an automatic warning growl to reverberate through your throat, and a smirk spreads across the man’s lips as he steps under a street lamp. “It appears we’ve brought claws to a gun fight,” the alpha muses. “Let me rectify that real quick.”

Three more wolves get off the vehicles, joining their alpha with weapons in hand.

“You don’t want to do this,” you tell him. “You’re gonna start a war you have no hope of winning the moment alpha Hale catches wind of your scent.”

“You’re trespassing on my land, beta.”

“You didn’t claim it with the alpha in charge, pup.” The alpha’s smile falls and you raise an eyebrow at him. “What? Didn’t think I could smell the difference,” you say. “You’re not a born wolf. You’re newly bitten and in way over your head. You start this fight right now and alpha Hale’s gonna rip your head off.”

He stares at you before a cruel smirk forms. “I’ll take my chances.”

The wolves open fire, causing the humans to duck and take cover before they can fire back. Your instincts are telling you to take cover as well, but you quickly realize they’re not firing at you or the humans. They’re firing at the shops and vehicles.

The sound of glass shattering has you whirling around and your eyes widen at the sight of the back windshield of your car having been shot out. You face the wolves once more, eyes glowing and teeth elongating as you let out a heart stopping roar of rage.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

You rush forward, meeting one beta head on as the gun fire ceases. You deflect a punch, raising a hand full of claws and slashing the wolf across his torso. Another beta approaches, but you’re quick to kick out and catch them in their gut. A gunshot rings out, too close for comfort, and you roar as you feel your right shoulder jerk back upon impact. Someone wraps their arms around you from behind and you’re quick to throw your head back, grinning viciously at the snap of bone you hear before dropping and sweeping their feet from underneath them.

The gunfire picks up once more and you feel a searing pain in your thigh, but you ignore it. You take claws across the chest before the beta attacking you takes a bullet to the side of his head, and you glance back at the men you’d gotten to know earlier who are clearly watching your back now. The alpha roars something awful, which makes you flinch, but your focus is still on the other two betas.

More searing pain erupts in your side as you throw yourself at another beta, slashing claws across their throat before falling into a crouch before launching yourself at the third beta. The fight with a third beta is a struggle and you can feel your control slowly slipping. And when you feel yourself losing the upper hand, you growl before sinking your fangs into the side of their throat and ripping out a chunk of flesh.

“BEHIND YOU!”

More gunshots ring out and you whirl around just in time to see the last wolf stumble in surprise at all the gunshots now littering his chest. And in your blood lust, you lunge up and dig your claws into his throat before yanking out his trachea.

As quiet takes over the parking lot, you become aware of your heavy breathing. You’re still on high alert as you glance around at the bodies littering the lot and you let loose a warning growl when you hear a pebble skip across asphalt. The five humans freeze, two of them halfheartedly raising guns in your direction.

“Hey, weren’t your eyes blue before?”

Those words knock the angry haze from your mind and you blink in confusion at Juice. “What? They are blue.”

“Nah, they’re red now.”

“What?” Your heart stops and you glance around at the bodies littering the ground, bile rising in the back of your throat when you see the then-alpha staring blankly up at the sky. “No, no, no.”

“Honey, I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, but we really need to remove those bullets from you,” Gemma says, though she keeps her distance.

You look at her, brow furrowing. “What?”

“You’ve been shot three times. You need to get those bullets out.”

Gemma’s words slowly sink in and you glance down at yourself. Sure enough, there’s a wound on your right shoulder, your right side, and your left thigh. “Oh.”

“So come on. Come join us in the clubhouse while Chibs dig those out for you.”

“Y-Yeah. Okay.”

You’re in a bit of a daze as someone leads you into what they call the clubhouse, then over to a table where everything is swiped off before you’re told to lay down.

“Shirt’s gonna have to come off, lass.”

Without a care, you strip off your shirt which leaves you in just your bra and shorts. Before you lay down, your eyes land on a bar and the liquor shelf behind it. “Can someone grab me a bottle? I don’t care what it is, I just need something stronger than beer.”

Juice jogs over behind the bar, picking up a random bottle of liquor and running it back to you. You twist off the lid and take a long pull from it, only stopping when Jax puts his hand on the bottle to push it down. “Hey, take it slow.”

Your nose wrinkles at the brief burn of alcohol. “Don’t need to. I can’t get drunk unless it’s a special mix.” You take another long pull of the liquor before setting the bottle aside, and lay down. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Chibs dig into your shoulder first and you can’t help the flare of your eyes or the elongation of your teeth. But you don’t snarl or glare, instead you grit your fangs and bear it.

The moment the first bullet comes out, Juice is there with a dish towel to press against the wound. You wave him off before he can ruin it. “Don’t bother. It’s already closing.” Everyone freezes and glances at your shoulder wound, and you tiredly smile at their awe. “Perks of being a werewolf. We heal quickly.”

As Chibs works on the other two bullets, you dig your phone out of shorts. You unlock it and scroll down to your brother’s contact, tapping on it and then placing the phone on speaker before letting it clatter to the table top.

It rings and rings, and then, “What happened?”

“The pack attacked.” You grunt as the bullet in your thigh gives Chibs a bit of trouble. “I’m currently laid out on the table as a friend digs out a bullet from my thigh.”

“Shit. Did any get away?”

“Only four came- three betas and the alpha. M'not sure if there’s more to his pack, but-” You trail off, unsure how to say what you have to next.

“But what, YN?”

“I killed the alpha.” Your brother goes quiet and tears slowly fill your eyes. “I didn’t mean to, Der. It just happened. I was so caught up in the fight and-”

“We’ll figure it out, little sister. Just sit tight. We’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.”

The phone beeps, signifying that Derek’s hung up and you sigh. “Are cops going to be an issue?”

“Nah,” Jax says. “We have them in our pocket.”

Just as Chibs tells you you’re all done, numerous sounds of roaring engines fill the air.

“Shit.” Jax cusses.

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold them off,” Gemma says. “But they will want an explanation.”

You sit up and gratefully accept a shirt Opie holds out for you. “That’s fine. So long as they can keep this between us, they can know.” The shirt is black with the words SAMCRO stamped across the front and you grip it one hand. “Is there a bathroom I can wash all the blood off in?”

“Yeah. Ope, get her a shower,” Jax says.

Opie nods and gestures for you to follow. “Thank you.” Staring at Jax once more, you ask, “Do you think some of the boys can get the bodies in the vehicles and park them out back? I’ll have my brother get rid of it all later.”

“Sure.”

You follow Opie further into the clubhouse just as there’s a bit of a commotion outside, but you don’t pay it any mind. Opie opens the door to what appears to be a dorm room and he points to another door inside. “There’s the bathroom. My wife has some leggings here if you want a pair.”

“Yes, please.”

The tall biker turns towards the dresser, pulling open a drawer and pulling out a pair of dark gray leggings. You flash him a smile as you accept them and then head into the bathroom.

A quick rinse off and some fresh clothes later, you’re stepping out into the room where Opie is still waiting. Upon seeing you, he chuckles. “You’re so unassuming. If I hadn’t seen what you did earlier, I wouldn’t believe whatever Gem and Jax are telling the boys outside.”

You shift nervously in front of him. “That’s what’s scary about the supernatural world. You never know who is human and who is not.” He hums in agreement. “So, uh, is there a place I can burn my bloody clothes?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell a Prospect to get a fire going.”

“Thanks. And if you can have someone catalog the damage those assholes did to the garage and club, I’ll pay for all damages.”

Opie looks at you in surprise. “I’ll let Gemma know.”

Walking back out into the club, you grab up your bloody shirt and follow Opie. Outside in the lot, it seems like Jax is holding court to a bunch of bikers that are listening intently to everything he’s telling them about the fight that took place and werewolves. The scent of bleach assaults your nose, and you watch as one individual pours bleach on the now body-free parking lot and another washes it away with a water hose.

Opie pulls someone aside, murmuring something in his ear, and the man glances at you with wide eyes. He nods and hesitantly makes his way towards you, holding his hands out for your bloodied clothes that you readily hand over. As he scampers off, you glance back up to see several people staring at you.

One individual with a head of curly dark hair and receding hairline scoffs. “She’s a werewolf? I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, kid, but werewolves don’t-”

You snarl, flashing red eyes and very sharp teeth at him.

Nearly everyone pulls a weapon, but you stand your ground and don’t say a word. Instead, you let your supernatural features fade away as Jax yells at his people. “ENOUGH! I didn’t tell you about werewolves so you can shoot the one we’re on friendly terms with as of right now. YN came here as a client to the garage- nothing more, nothing less. She didn’t know she was bringing a fight to the club, but she made damn sure to eliminate the threat. Show her an ounce of respect.”

There are several unhappy grumbles, but everyone listens. Weapons are holstered and everyone eyes you warily as Opie leads you to the picnic tables. You sigh, stepping up onto the bench so you can sit on the edge of the table itself. You’re surprised as Jax joins you, and Opie and Juice sit near your feet on the bench. The other picnic table is brought in front of the one you’re sitting on, and Gemma takes a seat along with Chibs and two other individuals.

“YN, this is Clay and Happy.” Jax introduces you to a white-haired man who still looks like he has a lot of fight in him and another individual whose stoic expression unsettles you. Both nod in greeting.

“Hi.” You fold your arms in your lap, looking at Gemma head on. “I already told Opie, but since you’re here..” She perks up, listening. “If you can have someone catalog the damages to your garage and club, I’ll pay for it all.”

Jax nudges you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do.” You look at him, smiling faintly. “These wolves came because of me, so I’ll pay for any and all damages.”

Gemma slowly smiles. “Thanks, baby.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

Gemma yells for someone and tells them to start logging the damage and it’s worth. Then after they run to get started on the job they were assigned, Chibs looks up at you.

“I got a question for 'ya, lass.”

“Shoot.”

“Why were 'ya so freaked to have red eyes instead of blue?”

You exhale tiredly. “Because red eyes signify alpha status. No pack can have more than one alpha unless they want to constantly butt heads, which means I’ll have to leave my pack and start anew elsewhere.”

“I have a question too,” Clay suddenly speaks up. “Why tell us all of this? If you creatures are dead set on keeping the secret of your existence, why tell my family?”

It takes you a moment to think about it.

“Have you ever met someone and just instantly clicked with them?” You ask. “Someone you met that you just felt at ease with even though they were a complete stranger?” Clay shrugs. “Well when I met Chibs, Jax, Juice and Gemma, that’s exactly how I felt. Like I knew them for years and was reuniting with an old friend.”

Jax coos next to you and you immediately nudge him, chuckling as you shake your head at him. Clay has a few more questions for you and, though he’s not the one in charge, you feel like you should answer anything they throw at you.

A couple hours later, after all the remnants of a gunfight having taken place have been discarded and beers have been passed around to those sitting around you, three vehicles pull up to the lot. Everyone tenses, but when seeing the Camaro that’s nearly identical to yours out front, you tell them it’s okay.

“It’s my brother.” When Derek and the betas get off their vehicles, you’re surprised to see Peter trailing after them. You hop off the table to greet your brother, hesitating briefly upon touching him before giving in and hugging him. He chuckles and then you stare at your friends before asking, “Can I?”

After all, you didn’t want to trigger your brother’s wolf by another alpha getting too close to his betas.

“Of course.”

Erica, Isaac and Boyd can immediately tell the difference when you hug them, and you smile faintly when you flash red eyes at them.

“Holy shit,” Erica says.

“Yeah.” Looking at your brother, you say, “There’s two vehicles out back with the bodies. Can they take them far out of the county and stage a scene? I don’t wanna bring suspicion to the garage’s doorstep.”

“What’s the scene gonna look like?”

“Shootout and an animal attack.” You shrug. “I used claws and teeth, and the humans used guns.”

“Okay.”

Derek gestures for the betas to do as they’re told as Juice tells them where to find the vehicles around back. Boyd mentions he’ll follow in one of their cars, and Isaac and Erica jog around the garage to go find the vehicles they need to dispose of.

Left alone with just Derek and Peter, you quickly introduce everyone to each other.

“Hold on,” Juice says, frowning. “I thought you said your uncle Peter was dead? That your brother ripped his throat out?”

All gazes dart to Peter and Derek who are only a few feet apart, and Peter chuckles as you roll your eyes. “Uncle Peter has an awful habit of not staying dead. He’s a nuisance, but as the Pack Enforcer, he’s kind of needed.”

“Thank you, darling niece. It’s so nice to hear that you only keep me around because of my role in the pack and not because we’re family.”

“I stopped caring for your well-being the moment we found out you cut Laura, your other darling niece, in half,” you deadpan.

Gemma gasps and suddenly the humans are on edge.

From the corner of your eye, you see Happy sit a little straighter at that information as he stares at your uncle. Everyone kind of reshuffles around then so that Peter and Derek are not at anyone’s back, and you end up between Jax and Opie once more as they stand close by on either side of you.

“So what’s your plan?” Derek asks, arms crossing over his chest.

“I’m not sure.” You copy his posture. “I don’t want to risk making betas. The bite has a 50/50 chance of taking, and I don’t want to risk killing someone.”

“You and I both know that it’s possible to have a pack with members who are human.” His eyes dart to the men standing next to you and you frown. “So long as you bond with these people and treat them as family, they’re pack.”

“What happens if she doesn’t form a pack?” Jax asks.

Derek’s gaze darts to him as he answers. “If an alpha remains packless, it’ll slowly make them feral to the point they need to be put down.”

Every gaze then turns to you and you try not to shrink under their gaze.

“I have a better idea,” Peter says. “Why not give the alpha power to another wolf who actually wants it?”

“Yeah? And who would that be?”

Peter smirks as his eyes flare blue, but the moment he takes a step in your direction, Jax and Opie are closing ranks on you and putting you just behind their shoulders. You glance at the backs of both men in surprise, head whipping in the direction of Happy and Juice who now have guns resting casually in their laps.

Peter freezes and scoffs, and Derek smirks. “It seems you might already have that pack of yours without even realizing it.” Wide eyes meet the gaze of your brother and he chuckles. “Charming is in need of an alpha now, little sister. And it seems you’re a new alpha who unknowingly formed a bond with men permanently attached to the town.”

You gape at Derek, your expression not changing as Jax and Opie grin over their shoulders at you. When no one says anything, you sigh. “Does anyone know of a house for rent? I’m gonna need a place to stay while I purchase some land and build a house away from nosy neighbors.”

“Juice, get on that,” Jax says. “Find a house with a decent landlord and then look for land that can be built on.”

“Got it, Prez.”

Juice jogs away to get started on his new task and you shake your head at your brother. “Congratulations. Charming and its people are now your responsibility,” Derek says. “Problem solved.”

Clay clears his throat. “That’s pretty much the job of the Sons here. We look out for Charming and the locals.”

Derek nods at him. “That’s great. But if another pack rolls into town, looking to cause trouble, or a rogue werewolf wanders into town and starts killing people for food, how are you going to take care of that problem? Do you know the signs to look for to determine whether or not it’s a supernatural threat?”

Clay frowns. “No.”

“Then that’s where YN steps in. She’s going to be a fountain of knowledge. Tap into it.”

“I don’t have to be a part of whatever operation you have going on here,” you say while gesturing towards the building, “but apparently my wolf has shown interest in these knuckleheads,” this time you gesture to Opie and Jax, “and any attack on them is an attack on me. And if a supernatural threat comes to town, you’re gonna want me in your corner.”

Clay seems to think over that before he subtly nods and tucks Gemma under his arm, accepting whatever may come next. Jax slowly smiles, playfully punching his friend’s arm. “Werewolf bodyguard.. sweet.”

On the way back from running an errand for your brother, you stop by an auto garage for a tune-up for your car. Once there, you run into a bit of trouble but it’s nothing you can’t handle. Unfortunately, the humans you’ve made friends with are dragged into the mess.

PART ONE | PART TWO|PART THREE

Words: 3.2K
Author’s Note: If you’re from the SoA fandom, LOOK AWAY! I’ve never seen the show- just read a lot of fic and seen some clips. Needless to say, my characterization of your favorite bikers is most likely terrible.
SoA and Teen Wolf AU.

When an issue arose with a couple of packs in southern California, Derek sent you to check it out and resolve it as quickly as possible in his name. Each state obviously had several packs residing within it, but there was only one alpha which all the other packs looked to for guidance and to resolve any issues they were having with other surrounding packs. And for as long as you can remember that one alpha has always been a Hale, even after the terrible tragedy that nearly wiped out every Hale in the state of California.

On the way back to Beacon Hills after a successful impromptu peace summit, you notice your car isn’t running as smoothly as it should. You’re in the town of Lodi when you realize it and you ask around for a legitimate auto garage as you stretch your legs a bit. Everyone tells you Teller-Morrow Automotive in Charming is the best you can get around these parts and you thank them for the suggestion.

Ten minutes later and you’re pulling up outside of Teller-Morrow Automotive. The gates are open, and you see a couple of milling about inside. You carefully drive in and put your car in park. Off to the side, one individual is on a smoke break, and he whistles appreciatively at the sight of your all black 1967 Chevy Camaro. He stands, sweeping back his hair over his head as you cut the engine, and it’s then you notice the scar alongside his cheek.

“That’s an absolute beaut, lass.”

“Thank you.” You pull out the keys, pocket them, and climb out of your car to meet him halfway. “Are you guys open for drive-ups or..?”

“The lads an’ I have some time to kill after they finish the car in the garage. What is it you’ll be needin’?”

“Full tune-up. She wasn’t driving as smoothly as I’d like.”

“I think we can swing it. Let me check wit’ the boss.” The man turns and sharply whistles, and then two other men are making their way towards you. One blonde with a swagger in his step that you can’t help but appreciate, and the other with a mohawk trimmed closely to his head and tattoos taking up the bare skin. While blondie has a neutral expression on his expression, the other is smiling wide as he eyes your car.

“What’s going on, Chibs?”

“The lil’ lass here wants to know if we’re open to doing a full tune-up for her.”

“Money is no issue so long as you don’t jerk me around,” you say. “If it needs fixing, I don’t mind paying for it, but don’t say something needs to be replaced if it truly doesn’t.”

Blondie looks you up and down before eying your car, smiling. “Might run you a couple hundred.”

“I’m good for it.”

“I’m sure you are.” He looks back at you and holds a hand out. “Jax Teller, owner. You’ve already met Chibs and the one eye-fuckin’ your car is Juice.”

You laugh as you clasp his hand with yours. “YN Hale.”

His hand squeezes yours a little tighter as the twinkle in his eye vanishes. Your muscles tense as anger suddenly wafts off all three men. “Any relation to Deputy Chief David Hale?”

“Nope.” You shake your head. “The only Hale’s I know of are me and my brother, and we reside in Beacon Hills. We don’t have any other family.”

The men seem to relax at that and Jax finally releases your hand. You then shove both your hands in your back pockets. “So the tune-up?”

“Yeah. Uh, we can do it. Might take a couple of hours, depending on what needs to be replaced and that’s after we finish the car we’re working on right now.”

“That’s fine. I’m in no rush.”

“Then you’re gonna wanna go see my mom so she can take down your info. Name’s Gemma. She’s in the office.”

“Thanks.” You take your right hand out of your back pocket and dig into your front pocket for the keys. You toss them up in the air and Juice is quick to catch them.

“I’ll take those,” he says.

You laugh and then make your way towards the garage, eying the part of it where it’s obviously a place to hangout for them. You continue walking, heading for the door that’s partially opened on the opposite end of the garage where you can hear someone inside.

You knock on the door jamb, waiting for permission to enter.

“Yeah? Come in.” You push the door further open, flashing a sheepish smile when the elder brunette looks up from shuffling a few papers behind a desk. She looks you up and down, sizing you up with a haughty expression on her face, and raises an eyebrow at you. “What can I do for you?”

“Jax told me to meet with you so you can take down my info. They’re gonna do a tune-up on my car.”

She sighs and gestures to the chair across from her. “Have a seat.” She grabs a paper from one of the desk drawers and clicks open a pen. “Name, number, make and model of car.” As you rattle off the information to the woman, you watch as she scribbles it all down. “That’s a nice car you got there. Might need more than the usual tune-up.”

“Like I told your son, money is no issue. I’m good for it.”

She huffs. “Are you sure mommy and daddy aren’t gonna pitch a fit for spending their cash?”

You grin at the cattiness in her tone. “Unfortunately, mommy and daddy have no say in how I spend their life insurance money.” Gemma pauses and glances up at you, expression torn between indifference and guilt. You shrug, flashing her a grin to let her know you’re not offended. “When a psychotic bitch locks your family in your family home and burns it all to the ground, you tend to have more money than you know what to do with.”

“Jesus, honey, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “I forget not everyone knows about my family tragedy. It was a big deal in Beacon Hills and even to this day everyone still kind of looks at me and brother with pity in their eyes.” Gemma still doesn’t say anything and you clap your hands on your thighs. “So, uh, if that’s all then I’m gonna go take a lap around the town. Any specific stores I should hit up?”

“Uh, there’s a good milkshake shop in the middle of town.”

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to swing by. If you need me to head back, you have my number on file now. If not, I hope it’s okay I hang out by one of those picnic tables later if the boys aren’t done by the time I come back.”

“Sure. Picnic tables are fair game.”

“Awesome. Is there a number for a cab around these parts?” Gemma quickly jots down a number and you take the sticky note, smiling. “Thanks. If that’s all, I’ll see you later.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

As you walk back out through the garage, you see that your car has been pulled into one of the stalls, but the boys are working on the car they had previously been working on before you interrupted them. You wave when they look up and continue on until you’re standing outside the gates, leaning on the fence and calling for a cab.

For the next several hours, you eat lunch and walk from shop to shop in downtown Charming. There’s a small boutique which sells decent clothes, a malt shop, a bookstore, an electronics shop and a jewelry shop. You end up buying a few clothing items and a couple of books, then buying yourself a milkshake before heading over to the local park.

Sitting beneath the tree, you sip on your milkshake while reading one of your books.

Close to five, you start getting text messages from Jax telling you everything your car was going to need replaced. As you went over a mental checklist of what he was telling you, you realized he was right. You asked him for an oil change and tire rotation as well since your baby was due for one in a month anyway, and he agreed to it. He told you everything was going to be just under two hundred dollars and you figured that was fair.

You spend another hour reading until you start getting hungry and figure you’ll just head back to the garage with dinner for everyone. So after finding out there’s a pizza parlor, you have your cab driver take you there. Four boxes of meat lover’s pizza and two cold cases of beer later, your cab driver is helping you take everything down at the garage and setting it all on a picnic table outside.

“Come and get it, boys and lady! Dinner’s served.”

You glance towards the garage and watch as the boys finish wiping down your car, and Gemma pokes her head out from her office. They all share a few looks of confusion before they make their way towards you, with a newcomer in tow, and Juice immediately beams.

“Hell yeah.”

“Hope you guys don’t mind meat lovers and the beer I got. I wasn’t sure what you guys liked.”

“It’s perfect,” Juice says. “I’m just gonna put one of these cases in the fridge.”

As Juice disappears with one of the cases of beer, you glance up at Jax and the tall man next to him. He’s wearing a black beanie and has a full beard, but the thing that catches your attention is the biker kutte he’s wearing. Sons of Anarchy. You quickly piece together the automotive garage is also a motorcycle club, but it changes nothing of your opinion on these people.

Gemma looks between the food and you. “Thanks, sweetie, but you didn’t have to do this.”

You smile at her. “I wanted to. Besides, I know what working in a garage is like. You work up quite an appetite in there.”

Jax raises an eyebrow at you, blue eyes twinkling. “Got experience?”

“I do, actually. My brother owns La Luna Automotive in Beacon Hills.”

His lips twitch. “Before we get into that, let’s sit.”

Juice returns with paper plates and napkins as Chibs and the newcomer push together two picnic tables. You rip open the case of beer and pass a few bottles out before you take your seat, smiling as Opie introduces himself while taking a seat next to you. Juice passes out the paper plates while Gemma hands out napkins, and everyone readily pulls slices of pizza onto their plates.

Gemma is the only one who delicately eats, shaking her head in amusement as the boys dig in.

After a few moments of eating and drinking, Gemma finally addresses you.

“So, YN,” she waits until you glance at her. “I’m not one for apologies, but I feel like I owe you one.” The men all freeze, glancing between you and her.

“You really don’t, Gemma. It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I made a bitchy comment based on your appearance and lack of concern over money. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you.”

“And you have my heartfelt condolences. That fire-” She trails off, shaking her head, lost in her thoughts.

Jax gulps. “Ma? What are you talking about?”

She continues to shake her head before looking at you and you sigh. “She’s talking about the Hale family fire,” you tell them. Immediately you have everyone’s attention. “When I was fourteen, numerous members of my family were purposely trapped in our family home and burned alive. The youngest victim was only ten months old.”

“What the fuck?” Jax says.

“My idiot brother dated our high school substitute teacher. When our sister found out and threatened this woman, she went crazy. Especially when my brother broke things off with her. So to hit my brother where it really hurt, she went after our family. The only survivor from the fire was my uncle. My eldest sister was away at college, the woman had lured my brother away so he would be wracked with guilt, and I was at a sleepover.”

“This bitch is rotting in prison, right?” Gemma asks. “I’d like to pay her a little visit.”

The men chuckle and you flash her a smile before taking a sip of your beer. “She got smart. She hired three men to do all her dirty work so if the cops made any arrests, nothing would point to her unless they talked.”

“Wait, so she’s not in prison?” Opie frowns.

You shake her head. “There were no arrests even though we knew exactly who started the fire. It was her word against ours, so my sister put our uncle in a nursing home and took me and my brother out of state. We stayed in New York for a few years before my sister went back to Beacon Hills for something. She didn’t check in like she was supposed to, so we went looking for her. We found her dead on the grounds of where our family home once stood.”

“Holy shit,” Jax murmurs in awe.

“Oh. It gets better.” You chuckle, pausing briefly so you can eat a bite more. “When me and my brother reestablished ourselves back in Beacon Hills, guess who kidnapped my brother and tortured him for shits and giggles?”

“That fucking bitch.” Gemma’s expression is enough to make you laugh.

“My uncle, who had miraculously recovered, ended up getting justice for our family before the cops showed up. Then my uncle was killed, and me and my brother inherited a shit load of money. Which brings us to why Gemma mostly thought I was just another little rich bitch.”

The men all chuckle as Gemma flashes you yet another sheepish look. Everyone goes quiet as your past tragedy sinks in, eating some more and easily finishing off three boxes of the pizza.

Eventually though, Jax has a question for you. “So if your brother owns a car garage, why waste your money here?”

“Well for one, I was not about to drive my baby all the way back to Beacon Hills when I noticed something was wrong. And two, this place looked like it held some honest workers and well.. why not share the wealth?”

“You get yer hands dirty, luv?” Chibs wonders.

You nod. “Here and there. My brother liked to take in strays from shitty homes, putting them to work so they could make an honest living when they were older. And when it turned out that we all had an affinity for fixing up vehicles, my brother opened a shop so the strays could have a steady job. We all work at La Luna for him, but he needed me to run an errand for him.”

“Huh. I would not have pegged you for someone who likes to get their hands dirty,” Jax says.

“Oh blondie, you have no idea how dirty I like to get.” The men all roar with laughter as Gemma chuckles, shaking her head at you. “So enough about me,” you say. “What about you guys? Is it always this quiet around here?”

“Nah,” Jax tells you. “There’s usually a lot more of us, but my step-dad had to deliver some parts to another location. Our brothers rode out to keep him company.”

You nod and say no more.

After everyone’s had their fill and is just lounging about, Gemma tells you if you’re ready to square up your bill. You agree and follow her into her office, paying your bill without any issue.

As you’re making your way back to the group of men are who enjoying their beers, another person walks through the opened gate of the lot. Everyone takes notice of this newcomer and Jax calls out, “Hey, buddy, we’re closed for the night!”

But the newcomer only has eyes for you. “You’re trespassing on claimed land, wolf.”

Your nostrils flare and the scent of wolf fills your senses. You narrow your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the confusion going on around you. Licking your bottom lip, you saunter forward a few more steps, aware of Gemma flanking you. “Am I now?” You muse. You scent the air, tilting your head to the side. “And which pack do you speak for?”

The guy growls- audibly growls- and tensions all around your skyrocket. The men all stand, making their way towards you and Gemma, unsure of where to stand as you go toe to toe with this guy.

“You’re not from the Alvarez pack or Satomi’s pack because they’re allies,” you say. “There is the Hillard pack, but they don’t got the balls to stand up to my brother, so that leaves..”

“The Hillard pack is gone. We’ve taken their territory.”

“Ah. Newcomers.” You tut at him, eyes twinkling. “We don’t care much for packs rising and falling, but all packs must check in with the alpha who watches over the state. And in California, buddy, that’s Alpha Hale.”

The newcomer’s eye flares blue as he snarls. There are shouts of surprise from behind you, along with the telltale sounds of weapons being drawn, but you merely raise a hand and glance over your shoulder while minutely shaking your head at the startled bikers. Then facing forward once more, you grin, careful to not show how rattled you are. “Fall in line and learn the rules around here or you will be chased out of California. Now run along back to your alpha and pass on the message.”

The guy snarls once more, but slowly backtracks out the gate. As soon as he’s gone, your smile falls and you dig into your pocket for your phone.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jax asks.

“Wait.” You find Derek’s contact in your phone and hit send, pressing the phone to your ear. When your brother picks up, you sigh. “We have an issue. The Hillard pack was taken out and the one that took their place doesn’t wanna follow protocol. A beta just outed himself in front of a group of humans.”

“Stay put and send me your location. We’re on our way.”

“Thanks, Der.” Turning around, you’re not surprised to see that everyone has a gun in hand. You nod in understanding. “If you have more weapons, now’s the time to get them out.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Jax asks you, expression hard. “And what was that guy?”

“Believe it or not, that was a werewolf. I’m a werewolf,” you tell him. “And apparently this new pack who has a claim on Charming doesn’t like a newcomer on their land.”

Jax and Juice snort, but your expression doesn’t change.

“You’re being serious,” Gemma realizes.

“I am. That guy was only a beta, like me. His alpha will most likely be here soon and he’ll be stronger than I am. I’m deeply sorry to bring this issue to your front step. I had no idea a new pack had taken over,” you tell the group, guilt etched into your very expression.

The humans are quiet for a moment and then, “What do you need?” Jax asks.

“Back up. Aim for the head.”

He nods, solemnly, while glancing at his brothers who give him a terse nod in return. “You got it.”

Since you were a little girl, you’ve always believed in the otherworldly. But then your mother gets sick and you have other things to worry about. Many years later, your eyes and mind are reopened.

Words: 5.2K
Author’s Note: I left this open-ended because I’m terrible at feelings lmao. I hope you still enjoy it.

When you wake up the following morning, you have absolutely no shame to find yourself half on top of Sweeney. He’s warm and surprisingly comfortable, and you let yourself drift off to sleep for a little bit longer. The second time you wake up, you’re in a little bit more pain than you were earlier and know you need to get up and eat something so you can take a painkiller.

You attempt to roll off of Sweeney, only to have his hand pull you back as he groans about you not going anywhere just yet.

Chuckling, you try to push off again. “I’m in pain, a mhuirnín. I need food and a pill.”

He inhales sharply. “‘Ya know Irish?”

“Tá. Well, only a little,” you muse. “I might have forgotten all the important bits concerning you, but I was still drawn to mythology and the Irish language growing up. I just didn’t study too much into the language because by then I got dragged into the world of the supernatural.”

Sweeney groans. “Luv, 'ya can’t tell me that and expect me to let 'ya leave this bed.”

“I can and you will.” You laugh some more before groaning when pain zings through your rib area. “As much as I’m diggin’ this vibe between us, I’m healing. When you and I decide to have a go at it, I don’t want gentle.” He groans again, but doesn’t try to pull you back when you roll away. “Now please go attempt to make breakfast or take my car and go buy something.”

As you go about collecting clothes and some toiletries for the bathroom, Sweeney grumbles as he gets out of bed and starts dressing himself. You disappear into the bathroom, slowly undressing and peeling off your bandages. You then proceed to get the water as hot as you can take it and then step into the spray.

You take your time washing up, groaning softly as all your body’s aches can now be felt. The worst is your face and rib area, and you’re just grateful that nothing was broken. After you’re done, you dry off and put antibacterial ointment on all the cuts you have before rebandaging them. The cut on your forehead and cheek receive the same treatment, but unfortunately there’s nothing to be done for your split lip.

You pull on a black bralette and a pair of black leggings, and then pull on a plaid button-up which you leave unbuttoned. When you walk back into the bedroom, you pull on a pair of ankle socks before continuing on to the front room. There isn’t any noise, so you’re surprised to find Sweeney sitting at the island counter with McDonald’s bags spread out in front of him. And standing on the opposite side of the counter, arms crossed and gaze set on Sweeney is none other than Lydia Martin.

“Yours?” She deadpans, nose wrinkling as Sweeney burps something awful.

You chuckle softly and continue your way into the kitchen. “Mine.”

“Since when?”

“Since I was ten and mom passed away.” That gets Lydia’s attention and you continue your way to her until you’re close enough to hug. “He’s very rough around the edges, but still very much mine.”

She takes a moment to gauge your expression before smiling softly and hugging you. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She pulls back from the hug, and you can see her gaze tracing the cuts and bruises dotting your face. She frowns. “I hope they got what was coming to them.”

“Well Sweeney is the one who took care of it.” You gesture towards the man in question, smiling at his cheeks puffed out with food as he winks. “Charming,” you deadpan. Lydia snorts a laugh and then you introduce them. “Lydia, meet Mad Sweeney. Ex king and ex god, now currently cursed as a leprechaun. Sweeney, meet Lydia Martin. Current pack member and banshee. Please don’t piss each other off.”

Sweeney perks up. “Banshee, 'ya say?” Lydia purses her lips but nods nonetheless. “Pleasure to meet 'ya, little red.”

“Well I guess I can say the same since you rescued YN here.”

“Great.” You clap your hands and walk back around the island counter to take a seat next to Sweeney. “You hungry? Have something to eat while we wait for the rest of the pack.”

From the corner of your eye, you catch Sweeney staring at your outfit. You huff a laugh and close the plaid shirt in front of you, shaking your head in amusement as he smirks. Lydia picks through the breakfast sandwiches and hash browns, taking one each for herself, along with a coffee.

“So where are 'ya from, lass?” Sweeney asks, the question directed at Lydia. “How’d a banshee wind up in Beacon Hills, California?”

“As far as I know, I’m from here,” Lydia says. “I didn’t know I was something supernatural until after I was attacked. The attack triggered my powers, though I didn’t know what it was then, and it took about another year before our school teacher tried to kill me and I screamed. She called me the wailing woman.”

“You were attacked?”

“Mhm. Peter Hale.”

Sweeney freezes and you mentally groan. “That wolfy fuck had a reputation for attackin’ children, didn’t he?”

“Ohh. I like you,” Lydia muses.

This time, your groan is aloud. “I’ve already mentioned Peter was unwell. Let’s move on.”

Sweeney grumbles, but he’s still interested to learn more about Lydia and her roots. “So 'ya know nothin’ 'bout banshee origins or yer powers?”

She shakes her head. “Just what YN and Stiles were able to find on the internet for me. And by trying to listen to my own self as my powers grew.”

The leprechaun hums. “I might have some books in the hoard that 'ya can borrow if yer interested. Just need to be extra careful with 'em since they’re hundreds of years old.”

Lydia’s mouth drops open just a bit in awe. “Are you serious?”

“'Course. No matter how distant, yer from the homeland. And I look after those that come from home.”

“I- yes. Thank you.”

He nods. “Just let me know when 'ya want them an’ I’ll get 'em to 'ya.”

The rest of breakfast is eaten in peace, you pop a pain killer, and then Sweeney and Lydia follow you to the sofas. Lydia takes one of the sofa chairs and she grins as Sweeney pulls you with him on the sofa, tucking you into his side.

“When should everyone else be here?” You ask around a yawn. “I haven’t been checking my phone.”

“Couple more hours,” Lydia says. You hum and she grins at you as you try to stay awake. “You just got really lucky that you got kidnapped a few days before we were all set to come home for Spring Break. We told our professors and bosses we had a family emergency, and they surprisingly let us go early.”

Sweeney chuckles. “Yer welcome.”

You giggle and Lydia shakes her head. “Grab a nap, YN. I’ll wake you before Stiles gets here.”

“Okay.”

                    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You wake up to fingers in your hair, scratching at your scalp. When your eyes flutter open, you realize you’re laying down, head in Sweeney’s lap.

“Time to wake up, luv. Your brother’s nearly here.”

“Fuck,” you groan. As you sit up, you yawn and stretch before pushing yourself to stand. Sweeney gets up as well, heading for the hallway that you know leads to the bathroom. “How far out are they?” You ask Lydia while buttoning up your plaid shirt halfway.

“They should actually be here by now.”

You grumble inaudibly, barely realizing that Lydia has a giant tome in her lap as you head for the kitchen. “Take Sweeney up on his offer?”

“Yes. There’s a ton of banshee lore in here that we’ve never heard about. This leprechaun of yours is probably one of my new favorite people.”

“That’s high praise from Lydia Martin.” Cracking open a bottle of water, you grin at her before taking a sip of your drink. “And Sweeney is something else, isn’t he? Is it bad that I’m really into his asshole attitude?”

She snorts. “You mean he wasn’t this crude when you were little?”

“Nope.” You reclaim your seat on the sofa. “He kept all that rudeness bottled up. And then apparently he got mixed up in a war between the Old and New gods, and he made me drink something to forget all about him so I would be safe. But it wasn’t potent enough or something because every time you asked about this,” you say while pulling on your necklace so Lydia can see the gold coin dangling from it, “I got an excruciating headache when I tried to remember where I got it from.”

“So how did you remember?”

“Another drink,” you muse. “When he saved me from the encroaching pack, I heard his voice and took one look at him, and I blacked out from the headache I got from my memories trying to resurface.”

Lydia is kept from replying as the apartment door is opened, the rest of your pack filing in. You stand, smiling at your twin as he makes a beeline for you.

“Holy shit, YN. Look at your face!”

Stiles wraps you in a hug, an embrace which you return with amusement. “You should see the other guys.”

As you pull free, you hug Scott and Malia one right after the other. Derek brings up the rear and you nod at him, and then sigh when you see your brother, Scott and Malia took up the entire sofa. Derek drags a stool closer to the group and you eye the only other sofa chair, only to have Stiles’ words stop you short.

“Uh, who’s the giant?”

You glance at the opening of the hallway where Sweeney is stepping out of and you sigh. “Might as well get this over with,” you mumble. Sweeney smirks as he walks closer, stepping around you and plopping himself down into the sofa chair. “Uh, guys, this is Mad Sweeney. Ex god, ex king, and current leprechaun.”

Malia snorts, and Scott and Stiles don’t bother hiding their amusement at your words.

“Aren’t leprechauns like three feet tall?” The werecoyote asks.

“Yeah, like really small?” Stiles presses on.

“There’s nothing small about me, Mieczyslaw. Just ask yer sister.”

Stiles gapes as Malia outright laughs and Scott’s eyes widen. But instead of asking about the obvious, Stiles asks, “How do you know my name?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Stiles, remember when mom and I would place bread and sweet cream on the window sill?”

“Yeah. You were obsessed with fairy tales and mythology ever since you were a kid. Always said you were leaving offerings for the fae or whatever.”

“Leprechauns, dear brother. I was leaving offerings for leprechauns and it just so happened that this leprechaun,” you say while pointing to Sweeney, “was feeding off those offerings.”

Stiles’ mouth opens and closes as he tries to recall your childhood. He must remember something because suddenly he perks up in his seat. “Wait a minute. Sweeney? Wasn’t that the name of your imaginary friend?”

“Not so imaginary, lad.”

“Holy shit. You mean you’re actually real?! And.. and built?”

Derek snorts and you shake your head in amusement at your twin’s awe. “He is. Sweeney, you obviously know who Stiles is. Next to him is Malia, our very own werecoyote. And then we have Scott McCall, alpha to our little ragtag pack.”

“I’m so confused,” Scott says as he warily waves at Sweeney. “I have a feeling there’s a story here and I think I speak for Stiles and Malia when I say we want to hear it.”

You rub a hand over your face, not bothering to fight Sweeney when he grabs your wrist and pulls you down onto his lap. Once you get comfortable, much to Lydia and Malia’s amusement, you retell the story of how you and Sweeney knew each other. You tell them how he made sure to check in on you after your mom died, and then made you forget everything you knew about him to protect you when a problem of his own came up.

Sweeney picks up then, admitting that his own problem just recently sort of resolved and when he felt that your life was in danger thanks to a gold coin he’d given you long ago, he followed the pull to Beacon Hills. Then when asked why he hadn’t shown up before, because your life had been in danger plenty before, Sweeney tells them about the Old gods and the New, and how it wasn’t safe to go to you. One Old god in particular had kept a close eye on him and he’d be damned if you were pulled into that mess.

The pack is a little stunned to hear all about the gods, their war, and Sweeney’s short death, and by the end of it Stiles is grateful that he’d made you forget. Then once everyone gets over their shock and awe, it’s Derek who notices the tome in Lydia’s lap. She tells them that Sweeney has all sorts of books in his leprechaun hoard and that he’s granted her permission to go through them as long as he’s around. Stiles and Derek are immediately interested, and you grin as the two of them pull up stools so they can peer over her shoulder.

By the time evening has rolled around and Derek supplied everyone with takeout, Lydia starts looking for a place to stay. Everyone else has a room to go back to, but Lydia’s mother had sold their house as soon as Lydia had left for college. Derek had a spare room, but Lydia didn’t like that Peter could freely roam the apartment and the other apartments on the floor you were staying on were not furnished. She was contemplating a motel room, but you offered up your room at the Stilinski household. You all had a terrible experience in a motel once and you weren’t too keen to have a repeat performance of it ever again.

Then before everyone went home, you made everyone promise to not mention Sweeney to either your dad or Melissa. Stiles had laughed, making fun that you were an adult who was afraid to have your dad know about your current- whatever Sweeney was to you- and you shut him up by telling him you’ll have Sweeney kick his ass if he let it slip.

The pack was grateful you were okay and promised to be back the next day, already thinking of plans to keep them busy over spring break since Sweeney had taken care of the enemy pack.

Over the next few days, you heal up quite nicely. You use less and less pain pills, letting Scott and Malia siphon any lingering pain, and drop the remaining pills back off with Melissa so she can properly dispose of them. She checks you over and is amazed how quickly you healed, making you laugh by assuming luckwas your superpower since she never saw you down and out for long.

Sweeney had been in and out, no doubt causing trouble, but nothing that ever came back to him since you never heard your father bring up anything pertaining to a six foot tall menace. Then one evening you get the itch to go dancing, and Lydia and Malia agree. A club well outside of Beacon Hills was chosen, and Derek immediately opted out of the pack bonding night when Stiles enthusiastically agreed.

After Sweeny was kicked out of the apartment, Malia and Lydia came over with numerous outfits to choose from. Lydia did your makeup to hide what little bruising you had left, and then you dressed in your chosen clubbing outfit. Both girls approved of the white lace bralette beneath a loose, unbuttoned plaid shirt and high waisted leather shorts. You had trouble picking out shoes and Malia happily dropped knee-high, high heeled boots in your lap.

The boys had gotten back before you were ready, so Lydia and Malia were ready for you to shock Sweeney with this new look. Your hair was lightly curled and left to fall over your shoulders, and Lydia told you to situate the plaid shirt so it was just barely hanging off your shoulders. Then when they were ready themselves, they had you walk out last so they could see Sweeney’s reaction for themselves. And disappointed they were not when Sweeney’s gaze went smoldering and he licked his bottom lip as his gaze slid up and down your form.

“Gross,” Scott mumbles, nose wrinkling. “Can we go now?”

You laugh, forgetting for a moment that he and Malia could smell exactly what your look was doing for Sweeney and what Sweeney’s heated gaze was doing to you.

Outside, you split up three and three. Stiles, Scott and Malia take the jeep Stiles had gifted Scott whereas Sweeney and Lydia leave with you. The chosen club is about an hour’s drive away because given your job with the local police department, no one wanted to be too close to home in case something happened.

On the drive to the club, you keep Sweeney and Lydia entertained by singing along to your favorite songs and dancing in your seat. You and Lydia also share some stories about your teenage years in Beacon Hills, and Sweeney shares stories about his past. And by the time you get to the club, the moon is high in the sky and there’s a line wrapped around the front of the building.

“We’re gonna spend an hour in line, aren’t we?” Malia frowns. “I really need to pee.”

“Well worry not, lass. Yer with me tonight, the luckiest arsehole in the state.”

You slowly smirk at Sweeney, watching as he confidently stalks towards the bouncer. You wistfully sigh as you watch him go, eyes then narrowing when you see more than one head swivel towards the intimidating redhead as he gets closer.

“Oh no,” Scott mumbles. “I know that look. That’s your ima 'bout to fight someonelook.”

“Scott, shush. Let’s go.” You watch as Sweeney talks to the bouncer, the bouncer grins, and then Sweeney’s turning around with a triumphant smile as you near. “I take it you got us in?”

“Did 'ya doubt me, luv?” Sweeney reaches for your hand and you can practically hear the women at the front of the line swoon at his accent.

Someone who works for the club ends up leading your group towards the back of the club where various cushioned couches line the wall up on a bit of a dais. There are tables that are knee-high and ottomans on the opposite side of the table so there’s plenty of space for people to sit and enjoy their drinks. Luckily there’s more than enough space for you all, and the worker leaves you alone after taking an order of drinks from Sweeney.

Plopping on the couch, Sweeney lays his arms along the back of the couch and proceeds to manspread with a smirk. You shake your head at him, sitting close to him but not quite tucked into his side. Lydia and Malia take up Sweeney’s other side, and Stiles and Scott claim an ottoman each.

“Who’s gonna dance with me?” You ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping music.

“After drinks,” Lydia says.

You nod, grinning. Scott and Stiles get caught up in their own conversation, as do Lydia and Malia. Sweeney nudges your shoulder and you fall into his side, crossing one knee over the other. “Are you okay here?” You ask him. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t your usual hangout, but-”

“Luv, as long as there is alcohol an’ good company, I don’t care.”

“Mhm.”

A club waitress with a tray of shots and empty glasses walks up onto the part of the dais where your group is seated, followed by another waitress who’s gripping two bottles in hand. The tray of shots is placed on the table, followed by the bottles, and then one of the waitresses is explaining how the bottles were on the house courtesy of the owner.

“Oh my god. Can Sweeney come with us every time we go out?” Stiles asks, leaning forward and grabbing himself a shot.

“Hey! Hands off the leprechaun. Get your own.”

“What?” You smirk at your brother as you reach for your own shot. “You can’t claim dibs.”

“I can and I will. Just like you called dibs on Lydia when we were in junior high.” Lydia snorts, having heard the argument of Stiles calling dibs on her when you both had crushes on the redhead when you were younger. “You’ve had your own redhead. This one’s mine.”

Stiles makes a strangled, offended noise as everyone else gathers up their shot.

“To a good and stress-free night,” Scott says, raising his shot glass.

“Hell no,” Malia muses. “To the twins getting so wasted that we have some good drama.”

“To me having a good night before I have to put some skanks in their place,” you say, gaze following a couple of females as they pass by, smiling and waving at Sweeney.

“To staying out of jail then,” Lydia toasts.

“Cheers!” Stiles raises his shot glass before throwing it back, the rest of you following.

You and Stiles make identical grimaces, shaking your head in slight disgust at the vodka while Sweeney laughs at the both of you. Malia is quick to stand, grabbing Lydia’s hand who reaches over and grabs yours.

“See you boys later!” You call out over your shoulder. “Be back soon!”

As you follow Lydia and Malia out onto the dance floor, Stiles and Scott remain with Sweeney. Sweeney grabs one of the liquor bottles for himself, twisting off the cap and drinking straight from it. Scott chuckles as he grabs the other one, pouring a bit for himself and Stiles into the spare glass tumblers.

Song after song, you and the girls dance the night away. Every now and then you return to the boys, shooing off the girls who hoped to get to know the boys better. The unknown girls were quick to leave Scott and Stiles under the intimidating stares of Malia and Lydia, but those hoping to get closer to Sweeney were a little more reluctant.

At one point, you end up resorting to climbing onto the back of the couch directly behind Sweeney, putting him directly between your spread knees. And when all that did was get you sneers in response, you raised your right leg and draped it over Sweeney’s shoulder which prompted him to raise his hand and run it up and down your leg.

Stiles immediately loses it, laughing at your show of possessiveness as the girls finally give up and walk away. “Why don’t you just pee on him while you’re at it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you grumble.

Sweeney chuckles as his fingers continue to trail up and down your leg, turning his head so his lips just brush on the inside of your knee. “I quite like this side of 'ya.”

“Oh fuck off.” You flick his ear and move out from behind him, slipping into the free spot on his side. “Now are you gonna dance with me or am I gonna have to stomp back over here for the next batch of girls that come sniffing around as soon as I leave?”

“Aye. One dance.”

You squeal and jump up, pulling on Sweeney’s hand until he follows you to the dance floor. He isn’t really a dancer, but you have fun grinding on him and making it a point to all those watching that he was off limits.

                    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Several hours later, Scott calls it a night. Everyone, with the exception of himself and Malia, are feeling the effects of the alcohol as they stumble out of the club and towards the emptying parking lot.

Your head’s a little fuzzy from all the alcohol so you’re not really paying attention to what is going on or being said around you, but the shove to your shoulder is not friendly. All you can really remember is one moment someone is calling you a slut and being pissed for ruining their friend’s chance at a rebound with the tall redhead, and the next Stiles is yelling, “Yeah, sis, beat her ass!”

Sweeney watches as his little spitfire of a human screams at a couple of females who initiated the argument with her, a smile spreading across his face as the first punch is thrown. Stiles is drunkenly cheering his twin on, Malia is watching with a grin from the sidelines, and Scott is failing miserably at trying to break up the fight. But it isn’t until one of the females turns her ire to Scott that things really become serious. Malia’s amusement vanishes and her eyes briefly flare blue, and Lydia is screaming for Malia to not get involved.

Malia gets involved.

The werecoyote is aware of her own strength, so she only manages to get in one headbutt as the female she took on goes down.

One of the club’s bouncers starts making their way to the fight and Sweeney cheers. “Now it’s a fight!” The suspenders fall off his shoulders right before Sweeney meets the bouncer head on.

It’s absolute chaos.

The fight seems to last forever, but in reality it’s only a handful of minutes.

Somehow you end up being shoved into your own car with Malia behind the wheel and Scott behind the wheel of the jeep, and then driven to a diner to be sobered up. Then once everyone’s had an early morning breakfast and more than a few coffees, you’re on your way home.

Only ten minutes into the drive, however, the jeep craps out.

Sweeney is absolutely appalled at what he finds underneath the hood, and you can’t stop giggling when Stiles calls roadside assistance, only to be told it’d be an hour before a driver meets them. Your twin complains about Sweeney not being as lucky as he thought, and you shoot off a text to Derek to let him know the situation as Sweeney starts bantering with your twatof a brother.

With the jeep pulled off to the side and its flashers blinking, Malia drives your car so the front end is directly in front of the jeep. She turns the flashers on, on your car, and then everyone finds a seat on the hoods of the vehicles as you wait. And in no time at all, Malia gets everyone talking about the fight, laughing at how it all started over Sweeney and YN’s tendencies to not let things go.

As the sky starts to lighten with the impending sunrise, everyone groans about how you haven’t pulled all-nighters since high school and you were facing down monsters every other month.

Sweeney mentions something about a smoke break and you watch him walk off, plopping down on the side of the road before he lights up.

A moment later and Stiles is grabbing your arm. “Alright, twin, let’s go. We need to have a chat.”

“About?”

He drags you into the field, stomping through weeds and flowers until he puts enough space between the two of you and everyone else.

Sighing, you plop down into the field next to him. “So, what’s this about?”

“You know what this is about.”

“I really don’t,” you mumble. Stiles says nothing, so you take a moment to pull at blades of grass before noticing the small cuts along your knuckles. You frown, licking your thumb to get rid of the blood.

“You really like this one, don’t you?” He asks.

“Like who?”

“Sweeney.” You freeze and glance up at your twin. “I’ve never seen you like this with anyone,” he confesses.

You frown. “Like what?”

“In love.” A strangled noise leaves your mouth and Stiles chuckles before pressing on. “I mean you dated Isaac that one time and had that thing with Derek for a little bit, but with this Sweeney guy? It’s different.” You gape at your twin, unsure of what to say. “You become more alive around him. I.. I really kind of like seeing you like this.”

You continue gaping until you eventually huff a laugh, shaking your head. “So what? Nothing will ever transpire between us. He’s a traveler. He won’t stick around.”

“Then why don’t you go with him?” Your amusement instantly vanishes at the serious expression your brother is sporting. “You can’t stay in Beacon Hills forever.”

Back by the vehicles, Sweeney is leaning against the jeep as he watches the twins chat in the middle of the field.

When YN laughs at something her twin says and punches his arm, he slowly grins as her twin punches back which then results in a slap fight between the two.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“What?” The words startle him and he glances down at his fellow redhead who’s grinning up at him.

“YN. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve only had eyes for her. It’s cute.” He scoffs, turning his attention back to the girl in question as Lydia’s grin turns soft and fond. “YN has dated a couple of guys, none that I cared for,” she admits. “But you? If you pursue this, you have my approval. Stiles’ too.”

“Yeah?” Sweeney pulls another cigarette from behind his ear, sparking it up. “I’ll keep that’ in mind.”

Stiles is frowning, rubbing his arm. “Will you stop slapping me?”

“You started it.”

You and Stiles glare at one another before the two of you crack, giggling.

After you calm down, you ask, “What am I going to do, Mieczyslaw?”

“Whatever you want, Fela.” He reaches forward, squeezing your hand. “You didn’t have to stay behind, but you did. For dad and for Beacon Hills, but dad is okay. He’s healthy. And Peter and Derek are more than capable of taking care of the town without you.”

“But how do I even know if Sweeney likes me back?” You ask, voice low and the most vulnerable Stiles has ever heard.

Stiles smiles, his hand leaving yours and reaching up to tug the necklace out of your shirt. “Do you really think a leprechaun gives their gold so freely? Especially a leprechaun like Mad Sweeney?”

You blink in surprise at your twin before looking towards the leprechaun in question, all your doubt vanishing when you catch him already staring back. He smirks as he flicks the butt of his cigarette away and something unfurls in your chest while looking at him.

Stiles is right. You really do like this asshole of a leprechaun. So if he feels even a sliver of what you feel for him, you have a strong feeling that it won’t take much for Sweeney to convince you to travel with him. “I’m so screwed.”

“Yeah you are. Now come on, let’s practice how you’re gonna break it to dad that you’re eloping with a legit leprechaun.”

A mhuirnín-my dear/my darling

Tá-yes

Since you were a little girl, you’ve always believed in the otherworldly. But then your mother gets sick and you have other things to worry about. Many years later, your eyes and mind are reopened.

Words: 4.5K
Author’s Note: First time ever writing Mad Sweeney. He won’t be quite so mad in this, though I’m positive he’ll be OOC. I have no idea how to write an Irish accent, so apologies in advance. As for the reader, she will be given a birth name, but the only one to use it will be Sweeney. She will still go by YN with everyone else.
TRIGGER WARNING for mild violence.

Ever since you were a little girl and learned how to read, you were obsessed with fairytales. But while most little girls were drawn to princes and princesses, you were drawn to fairies, pixies, elves and leprechauns all because of the name you were given at birth. Being named Fela made you believe you were lucky and had some sort of connection to the leprechauns. This was a notion your parents never dissuaded you from and, in fact, your mother encouraged.

So to feel like you had some form of connection with your favorite otherworldly beings, once a month your mother would bake a fresh loaf of sweet bread and you would put a piece of it along with a bottle of sweet cream on the kitchen windowsill. The following morning, the plate would be empty and the sweet cream gone. You always believed a leprechaun had taken it, but once or twice you caught your parents questioning where the food went since neither of them touched it.

The tradition of giving offerings lasted for a few years before your mother became ill. Her mental stability started to dwindle, you spent less and less time with her, and then she was admitted to the hospital for full time observation. You and your twin Stiles spent more and more time with Melissa McCall and her son Scott, and it wasn’t long before your mother succumbed to her illness.

It wasn’t until after you buried your mother and your father took to the liquor bottle did you remember your tradition. You had no one to bake with, so you asked Mrs. McCall to get you some sweet bread and sweet cream from the store. She thought it was an odd request, but bought it nonetheless. Then one night, after your father had more than a little too much to drink and passed out on the living room couch, you took the bread and sweet cream to your room.

The bread and sweet cream found its way to your windowsill, and you climbed into bed while praying to whoever and whatever was listening that things would get better. Then sometime in the middle of the night, the sound of your window being pushed upward woke you. You sat up, rubbing at your eyes and watched as a hand reached in for the bread.

“Blegh. What is this shit?!” You frown at the heavily accented voice, watching as the hand reaches in again, grabbing the bottle of sweet cream.

Crawling towards the bottom of your bed, you fold your knees beneath you and sit on your legs. You should be scared of the stranger right outside your bedroom window, but you’re not. Oddly enough, you feel as if this person is someone you know though you can’t place the voice. “Sorry it’s not fresh,” you say. “Mrs. McCall isn’t a baker and she had to buy it from the store.”

All movement outside your window ceases and then a moment later, a head of shocking reddish orange hair cut into a mohawk peers in. “What was that, little lamb?”

You smile at the strange man, the smile falling seconds later. “Mom died. This was the best I could do.”

The man blinks at you and then suddenly he’s folding himself in half just to climb into your room. Your eyes widen at how enormous he is. “Sorry, lass. I had no idea.”

“Are you really a leprechaun or are you some homeless guy eating up my leprechaun’s offerings?”

His lips twitch. “Your leprechaun, huh?”

“Mhm.” You nod. “Daddy’s the sheriff. If you’re some hobo, he’ll shoot you.”

The redhead chuckles. “I’ve had many names and many shapes, little lamb, but alas I’ve been cursed into who and what I am now. Name’s Sweeney. Mad Sweeney.”

“Mad is a weird name.”

“Yeah? And what’s yours?” He sneers, a bit affronted.

“Fela, but you can call me YN.”

“Fela,” he murmurs, his entire being softening. “‘Ya know yer name means lucky, right?”

“Mhm. And Mieczyslaw means bear, but he don’t like it. He likes to be called Stiles now.”

“Mieczyslaw?” Mr. Sweeney grimaces. “Which poor lad got saddled with tha’ name?”

“My twin. He’s sleeping.”

“Aye. As should you, little lass.”

As if his words triggered something in you, you yawn and nod in agreement. “Will I ever see you again?” You ask while crawling back to the top of your bed.

As you tuck yourself back under your covers and stare up at Mr. Sweeney towering over your bed, he grins and crouches. He raises his right hand, wiggling his fingers at you before bending his fingers and moving his hand in a precise manner before a gold appears out of thin air. Your eyes widen and he smirks as he tosses the gold coin atop your stomach. “For havin’ faith in me and leavin’ offerin’s, have a bit 'ol luck.”

“I thought leprechauns didn’t like to part with their gold,” you murmur in awe.

“We don’t like when it’s taken,” he corrects you. “If it’s willfully given, well then that’s fine.”

You squeeze the coin, feeling the warmth it gives off. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” His voice rumbles and you smile sleepily at him, squeezing the coin in your tiny fist and letting your eyelids flutter shut. “Until next time, little lamb.”

Mad Sweeney, the largest leprechaun to probably ever exist, visits you every month up until you’re fourteen. He sits and talks with you every visit, listening to your teenage woes and grinning every time you fidget with the coin you had fashioned into a necklace.

At the end of one particular visit, however, he turned rather solemn as he sat you down and told you he was going away for a while. A long while. He wouldn’t explain anything else, not really, but he promised you’d always have a bit of leprechaun luck on your side. You had a bit of a panic attack at the thought of not seeing your friend, that you thought nothing of the special tea he just so happened to have on him. He said it would calm you down and get you to sleep, but he never mentioned anything about making you forget.

As you got older and your group of friends got larger, someone always brought up just how lucky you were. You never got in trouble when Stiles or Scott did even though you were part of their plans. When Scott got attacked in the woods that started his supernatural journey, you tripped on a root and went down just as the creature sailed over you and bit Scott instead. Your injuries were never severe, the kanima took very little interest in you, and your skin was absolutely flawless.

Every time someone mentioned what it was that you could have done to earn such luck, you chuckled softly while fidgeting with the gold coin hanging around your neck. Allison had taken interest in it one time, but when she started asking questions about it and you thought about your answer, it always ended in a splitting headache. All you could remember was that it was gifted to you after your mother had passed.

As the years passed and problem after problem mounted up on your plates, you and your twin became the human researchers for the pack. A lot of it was new, but some of it seemed familiar. However when you tried to remember why it was familiar, the headaches came back and you let it go.

You gain even more new friends, lose a couple, and even gain some scars and really cool stories. Unfortunately, you can’t tell anyone the stories unless you want them to think you’re crazy.

By the time you’ve graduated, you’ve been to hell and back with all the supernatural creatures your hometown attracted. Everyone has a career path they really want to see through, but in doing so it would take them outside of Beacon Hills. And since you weren’t too concerned about what you were going to do, you decided to work at the station with your dad and keep an eye on the town alongside Derek and Peter. Stiles, Scott, Malia and Lydia all left Beacon Hills but promised to be back should you need them.

You, Derek and Peter made quite the team- the two of them being the muscle while you remained the brains. Your dad and Melissa McCall got involved here and there, but they always let the Hales take care of any issue and just hid the evidence afterward to continue keeping their secret.

Everything is fine and dandy until a new werewolf pack is looking for territory, and sets their sights on Beacon Hills since it was alpha-less. One minute you were leaving Derek’s building with a list of names to dig up some dirt on, and the next pain was exploding at the back of your head and causing everything to go dark.

The next time you have enough consciousness to open your eyes, your head is killing you. You pick up your head which sets off pain in your neck and try to move, only to realize you’re bound to a wooden chair.

“Well fuck,” you mumble.

“Oh good. You’re alive.” You glance in the direction of the voice, noticing it came from a darkened corner. You snort when you see red eyes suddenly glow as if they’re trying to intimidate you. “I was afraid my second in command hit you a little too hard.”

“Well if you couldn’t hear my heartbeat to tell you I was alive, then you must be a shit alpha.” Someone slaps you upside the head and you groan, slowly glancing over your shoulder. “Yeah, fuck you too, buddy.”

“It’s a wonder that that mouth of yours hasn’t gotten you killed, human.” A more feminine voice says.

“I’ve had loads of close calls, but I like to count myself lucky.”

As you face forward once more, you see the male alpha step out of the shadows. But really, he’s more of a boy. Scott looks older than him. “Your luck runs out today if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before.” You sigh. “You want answers, I don’t give 'em, and you beat me until I break. Unfortunately for you, you’re on claimed territory, so Peter and Derek Hale will be here soon and rip you apart. With their teeth,” you say.

“Where is alpha McCall and how many are in his pack?” The alpha crouches in front of you, waiting expectantly.

“Fuck off.”

Claws dig into the back of your neck and you gasp, struggling in your seat to move away from the werewolf’s grasp.

“Where is alpha McCall and how many are in his pack?” The alpha asks again.

“Eat me.”

The claws dig in deeper and you cry out, but then the claws are quickly extracted before a blow is delivered to the side of your face.

“Listen, sweetheart, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You right your head, licking the blood that’s coating your teeth as you stare the alpha in the eyes. “Promises, promises.”

The werewolf behind you chuckles darkly as their hands settle on your shoulders, squeezing. “I was hoping you’d be a pain in the ass. This is going to be fun.”

You don’t get a warning before the binds tying you to the chair are cut loose. There’s a split second of confusion before a hand is in your hair, gripping and tugging you to your feet before blow after blow is being delivered. You fall to your hands and knees way too quickly, only to receive kick after kick. Then when you’re on your back, spitting out blood and praying for a rescue, the telltale sounds of a door being broken down reach your ears.

The werewolf giving you a beatdown snarls at the interruption and you chuckle, smiling with blood stained lips. “Uh oh. The cavalry’s here.”

“Where’s the lass, 'ya mangy cunts!”

The voice gives you pause, but the wolves in the room with you are put on edge. There’s snarling and growling from the other room, as well as sounds of furniture being broken while the newcomer curses up a storm.

You find amusement in this new pack already seeing its downfall, but that amusement is cut short as a boot meets your face. Your vision starts to darken right before the door to the room you’re in is kicked open and the tallest man you’ve ever laid eyes on stomps in. His red mohawk and red beard strikes a chord within you, but you pay more attention to the gashes and blood adorning his body as he glances down at you. His eyes flare gold and you think he’s a werewolf, but he’s not healing as one should.

“You cunts are fuckin’ dead for takin’ the little lamb.”

The Irish accent practically splits your head open with the worst headache you’ve ever experienced, and you black out just as both wolves lunge at the newcomer.

                    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When your consciousness slips back in and makes you alert once more, you feel something warm and wet being dragged against your cheek. You flinch and turn away from the presence you can feel sitting next to your left hip, and then flinch even more when a hand grasps your arm.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s Derek. You’re safe.”

It takes a moment to realize you’re not being hit and then another moment for the words to register in your brain. You unclench your muscles and slowly turn back around, frowning. “Der?”

“Yeah. You’re back at my loft.”

“How- how did you find me?” You try to sit up then, whining at all the pain that registers all over your body.

Derek gives you a hand, letting you sit up on the edge of the bed so your feet are touching the ground. “We didn’t. Some guy who keeps calling himself a leprechaun did. He says you know him.”

“A leprechaun?” A headache starts to blossom, but you squeeze your eyes shut against it. “Yeah. Yeah, I think- it’s all jumbled though,” you say. You press your palms to your eyes, rubbing your temples a moment later. “Sweeney, right? His name is Sweeney.”

“Yes! Thank you, little lamb.” You turn around, grimacing at the sudden movement, only to find Peter standing over the man in question who’s sitting in a chair. He smirks at you, split lip and all, before he looks up at Peter and sneers. “Told 'ya mangy fucks that the little lass knew me.” You frown at him before standing from the bed, swatting at Derek’s hands that are trying to keep you in bed or keep you away from the enormous leprechaun. As you stumble closer to where he’s sitting, he looks to you and raises an eyebrow before looking you up and down. Slowly, he smirks. “Not such a little lamb anymore, are 'ya Fela?”

“Fela?” Peter wonders.

“Birth name,” you mumble. As your knees hit Sweeney’s knees, you stop and stare at him as your headache gets worse. Your hands clench into fists at your sides and you frown. “I.. I don’t-” You shake your head, trying to make sense of how you know this man. “I’m so confused. I feel happy to see you, but I also feel angry. Why.. why would I feel..” And then you remember. You flinch at the headache, but you remember. And in remembering, you reach down and slap Sweeney across the face.

“Oi!” He cries out. “That hurt.”

“You.. you left me!”

“I had to! This old cunt of a god was gettin’ suspicious,” he says. “Couldn’t have 'im lookin’ in on me one day and findin’ 'ya, could I?”

Your eyes fill with tears, both in pain from the beating you took and because you want to fully remember this man in front of you, but you can’t. “I can’t.. why can’t I-”

Sweeney reaches into his jean jacket, scoffing at Peter’s warning snarl, and pulls out a flask that he holds out to you. “It’s time to remember now, little lamb.”

Your lips twitch. “I thought I wasn’t so little now?” You have no idea where the sudden urge to tease the man comes from, but you can’t help it. He’s quite handsome.

Sweeney slowly smirks at you and someone mutters a jesus christ under their breath. Your eyes fall back onto the flask he’s offering and another headache pulses when you remember him offering you tea- a tea that gave you many blank spots in your memory. And if Sweeney is telling you it’s now time to remember while offering a flask, well then you want to remember. So before Derek or Peter can talk you out of it, you take the flask from his hand, open it, and drink.

“YN, don’t!” Derek tries to warn you, but he’s too late.

You swallow three mouthfuls before you stop, and seconds later you cry out at suddenly being overwhelmed with everything you’ve forgotten. Derek is there to catch you as you stumble back and you assure him you’re fine. You just need a moment.

When you remember everything, you look at the expecting leprechaun. “Mad Sweeney, oh how I’ve missed you.” And surprising all three men in the room, you walk forward until you’re placing yourself on Sweeney’s lap sideways, curling into him.

Slowly but surely, Sweeney wraps his arms around you. “There, there. I’ve got 'ya.”

“I wanna know everything. Tell me.”

“I will. And then you’re gonna tell me how 'ya ended up with the mutts.”

Someone growls and you pinch Sweeney’s side. “I will so long as you play nice. They’re my pack.”

“I was yours first,” he grumbles.

You smile at Sweeney’s words, but don’t bother saying anything after that. You want to know everything he’s been up to and what exactly led to him leaving you, but Derek reminds you that you’re covered in blood and need to clean up. You realize he’s right and as you make your way towards the bathroom; he also tells you he called the pack back to Beacon Hills. He and Peter had no clue how to find you since your scent was nowhere to be found, but they could smell the other werewolves and put two and two together. When not even your dad knew where you were, Derek decided to call the pack back home.

“And when you’re done, sweetheart,” Peter calls out before you could reach the bathroom. “We want the full story on Lucky Charms here.”

Sweeney glares up at Peter and you can’t help but grin at the elder werewolf. “Call him Lucky Charms again, Peter, and you’ll see firsthand how a leprechaun holds up against a werewolf.”

Not wanting to drag Sweeney back to your house and explain the leprechaun story all over again to your father, you ask Derek to use one of the renovated apartments on the floor below his own. He agrees but tells you that you still need to contact your father and let him know you are fine. So, after cleaning up and bandaging the cuts on your face and body, you let Peter drive you to your house since your dad is currently home. Normally you wouldn’t be caught dead alone with the older werewolf, but you knew he and Sweeney would kill each other if they were left alone together.

Your dad is a bit of a mess to see how beaten you are and calls Melissa over to check you over. You assure him you’re fine as the nurse prods and re-bandages your wounds, and you explain all about the pack who wanted information on Beacon Hills’ very own pack. You refused them, which is why you were beaten, but that Derek and Peter had found you just in time. The werewolf snorts and you glare at him, trying to send a message with your eyes to remind him to go along with whatever you said as you had previously planned so you didn’t have to explain Sweeney’s presence.

Your dad ends up giving you the week off so you can heal and then you went on to explain that you’d be staying at Derek’s for the duration since the pack was coming home. Then when your dad lets you leave and Melissa promises to have a bottle of painkillers for you later that night, you toss a bunch of outfits into a duffel bag before you have Peter take you grocery shopping so you can stock the refrigerator at the apartment.

Peter begrudgingly helps you carry your grocery bags to the apartment and promptly leaves when every bag is on the counter. You slowly start putting everything away, pausing when you hear footsteps.

Turning around, you’re faced with the sight of Sweeney in nothing but flannel pajama pants and his hair dripping water down his neck and chest. You gulp, letting your eyes trail over his chest and the claw marks littering his flesh. “Do you, uh, do you need help bandaging those?”

“No.” He smirks and then gestures to all the groceries lying about. “You plannin’ to cook?”

You scoff. “Hell no. I picked us up some cheeseburgers and curly fries. It’s in the oven if you wanna do me a solid and get them out.” You watch as Sweeney saunters over to the oven, taking the food out and appreciating the way the muscles in his back move. “Beers in the fridge if you don’t want your soda.”

You divide up the food when Sweeney sets it down before making a trip to the fridge- one burger and a carton of curly fries for you, and two burgers and a carton of curly fries for him. When he sits on the stool next to you, he asks, “So how did a lass like you end up with these rabid cunts?”

“Easy,” you murmur. “These men are part of my pack.” Sweeney scoffs and takes a bite out of his burger, and you do the same before answering him. “When I was fifteen, Stiles heard a call over my dad’s police scanner about a dead body in the woods. So as the curious and troublemaking teens we were, we went to investigate.”

“Bloody morons.”

Your lips twitch in amusement. “If only there was a six foot something tall leprechaun to steer us in the right direction.” He grunts and you chuckle before eating a bit more. “Anyway, my friend Scott and I got separated from Stiles after we found half a body. We got turned around somehow and, whether I was living up to my name or that bit o'leprechaun luck rubbed off on me, I tripped on a root and the alpha that had been hunting us bit Scott instead of me.”

Sweeney freezes. “The alpha was trying to bite 'ya?”

“Yep. Apparently, Peter thought I’d make a good wolf.” Your leprechaun is a little too quiet and you glance over at him, eyes widening at the anger in his expression. “Hey, none of that.” You reach over and lay a hand just above his knee to squeeze. “I’m still human and Peter’s not as psycho as he once was. We’re good here.”

“Still don’t like the cunt.”

You snort before taking your hand back. “You and everyone else, but he is Derek’s uncle and he is pack. Unfortunately.” You eat a bit more, watching Sweeney from the corner of your eye and are amazed at how much he can eat. He’s just as bad as the wolves. “So is my memory failing me and you’ve always been this raging asshole or..?”

Sweeney barks out a laugh as he finishes his last bite of burger. “Well I couldn’t curse like I wanted to. You were just a wee lass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You’ve barely finished your burger, sitting back with a grimace and taking a sip of your soda. “So what’s the bedroom situation look like?”

“One bed fit for a king, luv. You okay with that?”

You glance at him and wiggle your eyebrows. “I’m not a child, Sweeney. I can handle sharing a bed.” Collecting the trash, you toss it in the bin and wipe down the island counter you had eaten on. “I just need to wait for Melissa because she’s bringing me painkillers.”

Almost as if your words had summoned her, Melissa texts you that she’s on her way up. You have Sweeney hide and then thank your best friend’s mother for getting you a prescription on such short notice. You take one pill after she leaves and then head to the bathroom for your usual routine before bed.

When you walk into the bedroom, Sweeney wasn’t joking about the bed. It’s a king sized bed and has more than enough room for you and the 6'5 leprechaun.

As you slide under the covers, you sigh in contentment. “So what have you been doing, Lucky Charms?”

“I’m gonna let that slide because I like 'ya.” You giggle and scoot a bit closer to the middle of the bed, laying on your side and curling one arm under the pillow. “And it’s like I said, I was caught up in a war between the Old gods and the New. Even died for a few months-”

“WHAT?!”

“-but Shadow’s cunt of a dead wife did the right thing an’ brought me back. Even got me lucky coin back.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble. “Seems like we both got caught up in some crazy shit.”

“Mmm.” Sweeney turns on his side, shoving one arm under his pillow as he grins at you. “So what’s your craziest story?”

“Uhh.. well the kanima fiasco was pretty gnarly,” you tell him. “But the worst was probably the nogitsune. It possessed my twin and the Oni came in to check us. In fact, I’m pretty sure I still have the scar behind my ear when they checked me.” You reach up behind your right ear, feeling the raised skin of the mark that meant self. “The nogitsune took control over the Oni and they killed one of our pack, plus an ally of the pack. It was bad,” you say.

“How did 'ya get rid of it?”

“We managed to get Stiles to take control of himself again, but by then the nogitsune was pretty powerful. It took the form of Stiles, but since the nogitsune is a fox, we realized he couldn’t be both fox and wolf. So we hand an alpha bite him. When it abandoned its form, we trapped it in a jar.”

“Sounds like I missed one hell of a fight.”

“Mhm. You should have been here a few years back.” You yawn and don’t fight it when Sweeney grabs your arm and drags you closer to him. You snuggle into his chest and leave your eyes closed. “A fear demon came to town and turned the humans against all supernatural creatures, plus those helping the supernatural. I got into more fights that year than I’d like to admit.”

Sweeney chuckles. “Get some sleep, luv. That Hale lad said everyone should be here tomorrow.”

“Ugh. I’m so not looking forward to those lectures.”