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Screw that. Yeah, screw that.

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Guidance- chapter 3

Pairing: Scott x Reader

Warnings: reader overcome by grief, multiple descriptions of death, a murder, make-out scene

Summary: You, a banshee, and Scott try to unravel the mystery behind the murderous vision

Word count: 1, 977

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You lean back into your seat with an airy thud, softly gripping your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. Suddenly the sun is too bright in your eyes and your eyes become misty. You can hardly see through the veil of tears that shields your eyes. Thoughts run through your head, to quickly for you to understand. You start shaking your head, hard. Over and over you shake your head back and forth, back and forth. You reach your hands up and lace your fingers through your hair, practically ripping the strands out of your head. It doesn’t make sense. The thought repeats in your head until it begins to become words spilling from your mouth in an endless cycle.

Scott rests his hand gently on your shoulder and you stop instantly. You take a deep breath in, calming your mind. You look into his eyes, and his gaze meets yours, full of emotion. “I hate myself,” you whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear it. Scott leans in closer to you, his face only one inch from yours, his breath tickling your face. His thumb brushed your tear off your cheek slowly, and then comes back to stay on your face, his hand cupping your cheek in a comforting embrace. Your eyes lock again, and a feeling overwhelming calm floods through your body. You both lean inch by inch, until his lips touch yours lightly, then pull away. You both it staring into each other’s eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” he tells you. “We’ll figure it out.” You nod slowly, once. Then twice. You press your lips to his again, his kiss warming your body from head to toe, a tingling feeling spreading through your bones. Your lips move against his easily, naturally. Your lips tangle with one another, your breaths coming together as one. You feel so right, so loved. You plunge your hand into his hair, ruffling it and pulling on it lightly. You feel the vibration of his soft moan as his tongue slips gently into your mouth. You sigh, leaning even closer into him. “Thank god for tinted windows,” Scott laughs between breaths, and you giggle under your kiss. Slowly, carefully, you swing your legs over so that you’re straddling his hips tightly, your bodies pressing deliciously close to one another. Your lips fight, each helpless against the other. Scott moans quietly again, his mouth traveling to pepper soft kisses along your jaw, each one bigger than the last. When he moves to your collar bone, you hear yourself letting out small whimpers in response to his open mouthed kissing, no doubt leaving a trail of marks along your collarbone. You groan in satisfaction as his lips collide with yours again, and you roll your hips against his own. He cough out a strangled noise as you continue to roll them. You keep this up, your kiss becoming more heated, and all you can think is more, more. You want more.

You pull your head back suddenly, your head smacking against the wall behind you with a thud. You massage it, cringing, but your attention is on the street outside. Both your stares stay on the source of the noise, the pounding of feet thundering outside the car window. You listen carefully, then jump back as the man runs in a blur past you. The sky outside is dark, the sun having just set. The blinking lights of the bar sign cast light into the small space of Scott’s car. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how close you are to Scott, and climb back across the console, sharing a heated look with him, smiling slightly. You focus back on the businessman, but find his car gone. But slowly, you shift your eyes to the dark figure beside where it was parked. You gasp when you see the man in the vision, standing idly on the curb, swaying back on his forth on his feet menacingly. He feels like a ticking time bomb, desperate for release. A terrifying glint sparkles in his eyes when he flicks them around, scanning the empty road around him with careful examination. You see the reflection of light against his knife, scattering the light of the neon sign outwards. He taps the knife against his palm methodically, to the tick of his own clock. You feel something inside your stomach twist watching his movements. You hear Scott gulp, and look over at him, knowing he feels the same way. “He got away,” you breathe, the words not making sense as they exit your mouth. You don’t believe what’s in front of your eyes. You shake your head through your muddled thoughts, confused. “Does that mean he doesn’t die? Do you think we did it?” Scott asks to no one in particular. “I don’t know what it means,” you respond, your eyes trailing the killer as he leans nonchalantly against the wall, directly under the flashing sign of the bar. He slips his knife into his pocket quickly, hiding it. He starts whistling a tune, a sound that sounds haunting in the dark of night. You and Scott watch him for a few minutes, studying him as he whistles his song, shuffling his feet every now and then. You see something move in your peripheral vision, moving your gaze. Immediately your eyes widen, your heart beginning to beat faster. A girl in her twenties stumbles out of the bar, giggling boisterously. You watch as the man pushes off the wall with his hands, approaching the girl. Your breath hitches as he gently caresses her arm, his smile crafted, the evil glint left behind. He looks at her charmingly, and she smiles amusedly at him, oblivious. “Hey,” he says guilelessly. She again, covering her mouth with her hand, her ankles buckling under her.

You nearly scream as he rolls her into his chest by his grip on her arm. He holds her tightly around the neck. Her eyes are awake now, staring ahead with hot panic. She opens her mouth in an attempt to scream, her sound cut off by his increasingly tight grip around her throat. She grabs frantically at his hands to no avail, his grip stone. You watch in terror as he plunges the knife into her chest once, her body quivering once, twice, the going still and limp. He rips it out, only to strike again, and again, and again. He stabs her a total of twenty times, his face straight and stoic the whole time, staring at a spot above him. There is only a gaping hole left where her chest used to be, organs exposed to the world, to the frigid night air. Eventually he drops her, a smug grin finally spreading across his face. Twisting the knife around in his hands, he breathes in deeply, as if satisfied. A pool of blood spans out beneath his feet, his hands already stained dark with it. He steps away from the scene but stops, his eyes landing on the window of Scott’s car. The windows are tinted enough that he can’t really see in, but both of you hold your breath. The man stares right at you, shivers marching up your back, his gaze frighteningly cold. Very, very slowly, he turns back around, not sparing the girl a second glance before sprinting in the other direction, disappearing into the darkness. You squeeze your eyes shut, using every ounce of energy to keep your scream inside. You clench your eyes tighter, never daring to open them. You feel a tear stream down your face, and feel the weight of Scott’s concerned expression. You hear him exhale outside yourself, nothing registering but the thoughts running through your head. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t make sense, doesn’t make sense, doesn’t, doesn’t, doesn’t. You hear the start of the engine and open your eyes, still not looking at Scott. You feel the car start to move under you, the darkness blurring past your window as he starts to drive back in the direction of home. The farther you get from the crime scene, the stronger the guilt grows inside you, churning in your stomach with each passing second. You cry silently along the way. You are rounding the corner to another street when your vision becomes fuzzy at the edges, then completely dark. “No! No, no, no, no,” you scream, staying aware just long enough to hear Scott calling your name, and pulling over to the side of the road.

The scene appears before your eyes, the familiar road and sign filling you with overwhelming dread. Your body trembles, and you clamp your teeth together to keep from crying. The murder you’ve seen too many times plays in front of your eyes once again, the man, laving work late at night, briefcase held in his hand. The killer, creeping swiftly behind him, reaching around his body until his hand reaches his throat, knife in hand. The knife slicing through his throat, revealing things that should be in the body, causing your dinner to rise up in your throat. You suddenly wish you hadn’t eaten that night. You’re jolted back to the present, your food threatening to spill over. Ignoring Scott’s pleas, you slam the door open and fall over to the side of the road, emptying the contents of your stomach. you wretch, and then throw up again, until nothing but bile remains in your stomach. You let go of an agonized scream, the pain ripping through you like razors. You scream and scream, and sob, animalistic sounds shredding through your bones. You sink down to your knees before falling right to the ground, the cold of the pavement seeping into your shoulder. You try to draw in air, try to breathe, you want so desperately to breathe, to scream, to project the pain in your heart out, away. Air, you need air. You breathe in a rush, small amounts of air reaching your lungs, but not enough, not enough to scream, to think, to survive. After all, you think, maybe you don’t need to survive. Perhaps you don’t need to live anymore, in this horrid reality. You scrunch your nose as the smell of your discarded food reaches your nose, but you can’t bring yourself to move away from it, tears rolling fast down the curves of your cheeks. The cold is replaced by warm as Scott gathers you into his arms with care, carrying you gently into the car, setting you back in the passenger seat. You feel a void in your heart as you start nearing your house again. You fix your stare ahead, your cheeks streaked with dried tears. Scott pulls into your driveway, pulling his key out of the ignition. You continue to look forward, never bringing yourself to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’ll see inside them, afraid most of what he’ll see inside yours. Mechanically, you open the door and propel yourself towards the door. You walk your way up your stairs and to your bedroom, immediately collapsing onto your bed, not bothering to change your clothes. You hear Scott over you, and can feel his concern for you, You refuse to meet his eyes, everything except the pain blocked out from your mind. He comes over to you slowly and presses a light kiss on your head. He exhales, leaving, the door closing on his way out. Somewhere, in another world, you feel bad for ignoring him. You lay, staring in front of you, for a long, long time, thoughts failing you. Eventually, exhaustion rests on your shoulders heavily.

Lakewood is cursed.

#malfoysdracos #elewens #scream #mine #screamedit #mtvscreamedit #audreyedit #audreyjensenedit #emmaedit #emmaduvaledit #brookeedit #brookemaddoxedit

Scott, just listen to me, okay? You're not no one. Okay? You're someone, you're... Scott, you're my best friend. Okay? And I need you. Scott, you're my brother. All right, so... so if you're gonna do this, then... I think you're just gonna have to take me with you.

#tw #sciles #tylerssposeys #elewens #lydiamartain #perfectcombonet #mccalldefensesquad #tw edit #mine #twedit #teenwolfedit #teen wolf edit #scilesedit

Guidance - chapter 2

Pairing: Scott x Reader

Warnings: descriptions of death, reader has a panic attack

Summary: You have teamed up with Scott, who is helping you figure out the returning vision

Word count: 1, 365

Chapter 1

You lay on your bed that night, fiddling your pen through your fingers. You’re distracted, stealing glances at your phone every five seconds. You hoped against hope for a text from Scott. Suddenly your phone beeped and you jumped, snatching it up quickly, your homework forgotten. Hey, his text reads, Can I come over? If you’re not busy. You smile giddily to yourself before responding. Sure. A moment passes before his answer buzzes in. See you in 5. You smile wider, the thought of hanging out with Scott alone sending shivers down your spine. You push them down, away. Your thoughts wander to the vision from the past two days. The images keep replaying in your head over and over. You shove those thoughts away too, forcing yourself to get up. You walk to the mirror and give your hair a quick brush through. You examine your reflection for a moment before the doorbell rings, announcing Scott’s arrival.

You rush down the stairs to the door, your feet pounding with each step. You reach the door and whip it open, revealing Scott, his expression lighting up the entire space. “Hey!” he says. You feel his mood affecting your own as you say hi and invite him inside. You lead him up the stairs and through to your bedroom. He sets down his jacket neatly on your chair and knocks his fists together. You sit on the edge of your bed, and he settles in gently beside you. A comfortable silence falls between you and you risk a look at Scott’s face. Your eyes graze his jawline, traveling upwards to his soft brown eyes. He turns to you and locks eyes, neither of you breaking the hold. You allow yourself to become lost in his gaze, entranced in the beauty of them. You feel emotions swirling through your veins, coursing through the back of your mind. You inhale deeply, quietly. “So,” Scott breaks the spell. “Do you think maybe you could walk me through the vision? If you’re okay with doing that, I mean,” he says to you. A shudder runs downs your spine, fear written visibly on your features. You don’t want to relive it again. Not again, you repeat to yourself. “Oh, no, y/n, it’s okay, I- you don’t have to, okay? You don’t,” Scott says reassuringly. You shake your head. “It’s okay,” you say a few times. Scott reaches over and grasps your hand, lacing your fingers together. He gives your hand a firm squeeze, and you feel his warmth seeping into your pores. You give him a small smile, and tell him about the vision step by step. You tell him about the man, the killer, the scenery, the knife making the journey across the valley of the victim’s throat. He listens silently, nodding ever once in a while, squeezing your hand.

When you’re done, he sits beside you, holding your hand, his eyebrows knitted together. You see your vision begin to fade, the familiar feeling of a vision creeping in on you quickly. “No,” you gasp, a strangled noise escaping your throat. You grip his hand tighter, holding onto it, resisting the vision. “Y/n?” Scott says, concern leaking into his tone. You breath becomes labored and you’re filled with dread as the foretelling envelopes you, and you find yourself standing on the sidewalk. You glance upwards at the street lamp before the man passes in front of you, and your lungs fill with concrete. Your eyes a stuck open, unable to close. You are forced to watch as the black figure closes in on the man, his blade finding the throat and gliding across it with ease. You stand there and watch as the man falls, swimming in his own blood, his assailant running in the other direction. The thought to look around occurs to you. You flit your eyes around, scanning for landmarks. You curse as you hear Scott calling your name. “No, no, no!” you scream into the air. You clamp your teeth together, holding your ground, not moving. Nonetheless, Scott’s voice grows louder and louder, and before you know it you’re back in your room. Your lungs refuse to draw in air, thoughts running through your mind in a panic. “No!” you wail, your breath hitching. You register Scott, a world away, repeating your name. You feel his arms wrap a blanket around your body, before collecting you into his arms once again. “I can’t- I can’t save him,” you realize. “I can’t do it, Scott, I can’t. Can’t do it.” You repeat those words a thousand times, hyperventilating in his embrace, panic flooding your body. Why would someone give you these powers, but not the power to save someone? Why hadn’t it happened yet? It should have happened yesterday, done and over. You feel your lungs desperately trying for oxygen, your entire body trembling along with them. You feel the moisture on your cheeks. You make your lungs stop, holding your breath for a moment. You feel a calm finally begin to settle over you, the horror slowly leaving your body, only trickles of it left behind. Scott loosens his embrace. You sit up breathless, and wrap the blanket tighter around you. You curl your knees into your chest, and stare blankly ahead, the scenario playing in front of our eyes non-stop.

Fifteen minutes later, Scott rests his hand on your shoulder, and you glance upwards, your eyes red and puffy with tears. He looks back at you, worried. “Will you be okay?” he asks you, and you just nod, too scared to say yes, afraid you’ll hear a lie. Mostly afraid he’ll hear your heart lie. You gasp, remembering something. You shoot upwards, your legs throwing off your blanket. You lunge for your phone, pushing away any leftover panic in your throat. The urge to scream overwhelms you, and it takes a lot of energy to hold it in. Scott shifts closer to you. “What is it? Did you find something?” he asks you, and you nod again. “I don’t know how I’ve missed this,” you scold yourself. “Missed what?” he questions. You don’t reply, just take screenshot of the address on your phone. The address of the murder scene. “In all the visions, there was a sign right above me. It’s for a bar, Lucky’s Bar, it reads. It says here it’s right down the street from a big financial firm,” you explain, and Scott’s jaw drops open, realization dawning on him. “So, I mean, now we know where it happens, right?” You smile. “Yeah, so if we go there tonight, we can call the cops so that they come in time so it doesn’t happen. We can leave..an anonymous tip, I guess,” you continue. Scott’s eyebrows pull together. “But we don’t know it’s tonight,” he tells you. You know he’s right, but stay determined. “We don’t,” you reply. “But we have to try.” You get up and grab your jacket from your chair, tossing his over to him. He catches it swiftly. “You okay to drive?” you ask, making your way to the door. “Sure,” he says, and you walk together down the stairs, yelling to your mom that you’ll be late.

Scott pulls to the side of the road next to the firm, stopping the engine of the car. It’s still light out, so you figure you have lots of time. You sit back in the passenger seat and close your eyes. When you open one, you see Scott staring at you from over the console. “I still don’t get it,” you say. Scott looks away quickly. “Get what?” You open the other eye and sit up slightly, exhaling. “Why you’re helping me, why you’re nice to me. Or why you even talked to me, knowing my reputation.” Scott whips his head back around at you. “Because I like you,” he answers and you swallow, the familiar tingling feeling rising in your throat. You both fall silent, neither of you acknowledging what Scott said. Scott breathes, and breaks the silence.”Now what?” You shift in your seat, waiting a moment before responding.

“Now we wait,” you say.

#my work #elewens #tylerssposeys #mccalldefensesquad #perfectcombonet #scott mccall #imagine #tw imagine #teen wolf imagine #scott x reader #tw*

Hello!! With stydia (hopefully) becoming canon next season, @elewens and I have decided to start our own stydia network! With that said, welcome to The Stydia Crew!!

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