The Hale house creaked and crackled as the fire ate away at it. You couldn't move, just stare. Everyone you loved could be dying, burning, in that house but you couldn't move a muscle. A hand on your shoulder pulled you out of the trance. Peter stood behind you with the left half of his face burned to a crisp. He wavered and fell into you, knocking you to the ground. Anxiously, you dialed 911.
10 years later
Getting home was the only thing on your mind as you walked with purpose through the streets of Beacon Hills. Your life was being threatened and only you could ensure your safety.
You turned a corner and bumped into something incredibly hard. 'Why is there a wall here?' You thought as you rubbed your head.
"Pay attention next time" the man spit his words as he talked. His face was familiar.
"Peter?"
"Yes?" He had begun to walk away but stopped when he heard your voice. "Y/N?"
"You didn't have to be so rude to an old friend." You crossed your arms. He laughed,
"Sorry, just being my bitter old self." He looked at your face in awe. "Wow you haven't aged a bit"
"I would say the same but you're looking pretty rough." You joke. "You actually caught me at a bad time though. Sorry to cut this short"
"Would you like to get coffee with me sometime actually?"
"Yeah why not? I'm free right now as long as I can make you the cup myself?" You smile proudly, you made an amazing cup of coffee.
"I would love that." The two of you talked for hours at your apartment.
It felt like old times.
YOU ARE READING
Teen wolf imagines
Fanficim.ag.i.na.tion iˌmajəˈnāSH(ə)n/ noun the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses. "she'd never been blessed with a vivid imagination"
