Liam Dunbar imagine where Y/N gets hurt and liam worries immensely for her ?
You heard the knife bury itself into the back of your chest before you felt it, the thick crunching sound audible only to you and Garrett.
“I have to admit: you made 1 million dollars feel like nothing. Maybe your friend Liam’ll put up a fight.”
At this point, you were completely ignoring him, instead watching the tip of the knife disappear from the front of your chest back into your body as he pulled it out from between your ribcage.
“Any last words, darling?” he asked chivalrously, smiling innocently as he retracted the knife into his lacrosse stick, “Wolfsbane hurts.”
You felt your legs tremble before giving way, depositing you in an ungainly heap on the grass near the locker room.
“G-garrett-” you wheezed, reaching up a tired arm towards him. He laughed, throwing his head back. “…fuck you,” you snorted. Coughing wetly, blood spattered your Beacon Hills hoodie as Garrett slammed his foot down on your wrist, grinning as he heard a telltale crack.
“That was uncalled for,” he chided, cocking his head and smiling as you slowly curled your broken wrist into your chest. You didn’t see him walk away, focused only on the strangely hot yet cold pain in your chest.
It was a dull ache that slowly extended outwards, pain reaching out in tendrils for the rest of your body. Your veins were on fire, but your insides were freezing, sort of like when you put your hand in icy water and you feel cold, but also a strange little bit of warmth.
Reaching into your pocket, you dialed Scott, blood spattering against the touchscreen every time you coughed.
“Y/N? Did you find Brett?” asked Scott immediately, “We need to get him to Deaton.” You took a deep, wheezing breath.
“He’s…in the locker…room.”
“Y/N? Are you okay?” You couldn’t exactly tell him you were dying because then he’d go after you instead of Brett, who was more likely to survive.
“Just…winded-” your sentence was stopped by a hacking cough that ended in a glob of mucus and spit flying through the air like a potato in a room, landing wetly on the ground. “Tired.”
You could practically hear Scott furrowing his brows and grinding his jaw, just like he always did when he was angry.
“Don’t…c-come-” Jesus, since when was breathing this hard?
Oh, right. Ever since that blonde douchebag had impaled you with a lacrosse stick.
“Y/N, where are you?” growled Scott slowly, enunciating every word, “I’ll send Liam. You have to tell me now.”
Phew. As long as he saved himself for the more logical choice, aka Brett, you’d be fine. Dead, but fine. “Grass-locker…room…grass.”
Your arm suddenly went limp, as if Derek had hit your funny bone in training again. Scott’s voice grew louder and louder from the speaker, which lay a foot away, before stopping abruptly, your battery probably having given out.
The sound of rapid footsteps pounded gently in your ears as you lay down, closing your eyes. There was a dull ringing in your head that began to drone out the sounds of whoever was running.
“Y/N!” You tried to open your eyes, but it was as if someone was holding them closed. “Y/N! Holy shit-”
The pressure of the ground on your back disappeared as someone lifted you up. Upon breathing in their scent, you realized it was Liam. God, having a best friend was pretty sick.
“Lia…” Your tongue flopped to the bottom of your mouth as you focused all your energy on not wolfing out. Your head twitched as you fought the growth of your teeth, trying to think happy thoughts.
Racing Derek and finally beating him (after he fell over a trip wire you’d set up before the race).
Sitting on the dock of Lydia’s lake house with Liam and talking about everything.
Getting ice cream with Stiles every Friday and laughing whenever he dropped it.
Lydia teaching you how to put on makeup and giving you some of her own.
Kira letting you try out her katana and shred a dummy even after you almost dropped it.
Malia showing you her werecoyote form and letting you touch her.
Peter teaching you to heal yourself after you fell off the roof of the Hale House.
Scott helping you on your first full moon.
You opened your eyes to intense pain in your chest, screaming as Deaton and Scott blurred in and out of view. Ugh. Someone was stabbing you again. Your mind was suspiciously clear while your body was flailing and randomly changing back and forth from human to wolf.
Eyes fluttering open, you stared up at a white ceiling. Sitting up abruptly, you immediately fell backwards onto what must have been Deaton’s medical table, judging by the sterile scent of the room.
“Y/N, slow down,” muttered Scott, smiling in relief as he walked over to you. Liam was sleeping in a chair on your other side, head leaning against the table.
“Finally, you old man,” you breathed, grinning. Being not-dead was great.
Scott shook his head, smile stretching wider.
“Glad you’re back, Y/N. Take it easy. Everyone’s outside.”
Liam’s head bobbed upwards, hearing the noise you and Scott were making. His blue eyes widened as you turned slightly towards him, ignoring the pain in your chest.
“You should thank him,” interrupted Scott, eyes flickering from Liam back to yours. “He ran you all the way here.” You raised an eyebrow.
“In 10 minutes,” added Deaton, coming in through the door to the waiting room and standing aside to let Stiles, Kira, Malia, and Lydia inside. They crowded around you, Stiles occasionally poking at random places on your body.
“You were blue,” he repeated, shaking his head, “Your chest was blue, Y/N.”
“Lightsaber blue?” you grinned, raising an eyebrow.
Stiles’ face lit up in a huge smile. “You saw it?”
“Last week. It was alright,” you teased. He groaned, throwing his hands in the air as Malia pushed him aside.
“Thank God you’re okay,” she smiled. Liam was standing behind your head, one hand resting on your shoulder.
“Is Brett okay?” you asked, suddenly remembering the other kid who was on the Deadpool. Liam’s hand tightened imperceptibly on your shoulder. “Don’t let Garrett get the money-”
“He’s next door,” replied Kira gently, rubbing your arm soothingly, “Deaton fixed him.”
“Has anyone realized Y/N isn’t wearing a shirt?” scolded Lydia, shoving Scott, Stiles, and Liam out of the room.
“We weren’t complaining-” started Stiles before Malia flicked his arm as he walked out.
You dozed on Derek’s couch, watching him lift weights.
“Y/N, do you have anything to do?”
“Sleep,” you grinned, “Eat. Get well.”
“Pack’s coming in five minutes. I’d find a better place to sleep.”
You held up your arms, waiting for him to carry you to the guest room you were currently occupying while your parents were on vacation in the Bahamas.
“You’re getting heavy,” teased Derek, “When you get better, we’ll have to step up your training.”
“Aw, Derek, it was hard enough-”
“Ah. You’re worth more than you think, and you need to be able to protect yourself.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I’m touched,” Derek said dryly, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
He set you down on your bed before turning off the lights.
“Scream if you’re being attacked.”
“I’d rather just wait it out,” you snorted, pulling the covers up to your chin as he waved slightly and closed the door.
Your window opened, revealing Liam climbing inside and sitting next to your head.
“Spiderwolf, spiderwolf, does whatever a spiderwolf-”
“Someone’s feeling better,” he grinned. You moved your head into his lap, letting him rest his forearms on your collarbones.
He looked down at you, eyebrow raised.
“Thanks for bringing me to Deaton.”
“It’s what you would’ve done if I was lying there.”
“It’s not! You could’ve died, Y/N, and you don’t seem to realize how worried everyone was!” His eyes flashed gold for a few seconds before fading back to blue. “Sorry-”
You rested between his legs, head on his chest as you gently held his hands and let your thumb rub comforting circles on the top of his hand.
“I’m sorry. I just….don’t wanna think about it right now. I’m fine, you’re fine, everything’s going to be fine.”
He pulled you closer into his chest.
“Don’t scare me like that again.”
“I’ll try,” you grinned, leaning your head backwards into the crook of his neck, “No guarantees, though.”
“If you died, I don’t think I’d know what to do.” You smothered a giggle, looking up at him.
“Claire from Bio seems pretty into you. There’s Daniella from History, the entire group of cheerleaders-”
“I’m not into them,” he muttered. Maybe it’s Meredith, the blonde in his English class?
“Who is it?” you asked excitedly. Drama, drama, drama.
“I think Scott’s here. I’ll tell him how you’re doing. See you, Y/N.”
He paused, halfway to the door. “You know you can tell me anything?”
The door closed quietly behind him.