(A/N: Before I begin, I would like to make some things very clear. First, this is not, nor ever will it be, intended to be taken as a serious work of writing. This is purely for humor, made to mock all of the stories I see that are like this. If you write stories with one (or all) of these cliches and are offended, I am sorry. This story was intended for Quotev, where most of the work I see is either about an emo werewolf getting herself claimed by a macho alpha, or a girl being kidnapped by her favorite band members and then forcibly romanced upon. This, if possible, will contain all of the cliches that I have seen thus far on Quotev. Now, most people on Quotev do not use proper formatting or capitalization or grammar. I, however, will do my best to make sure that this does. I'd like this to be as easy to comprehend me. If you have any questions or concerns (or suggestions for which cliches I could cover) feel free to leave me a review, or a PM. (Oh, and by the way, this is being co-written, so the chapters might seem a little uneven.) With that out of the way, I think we've covered everything you need to know. Please, enjoy!)

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The sound of the alarm brought me out of my peaceful slumber. With a groan, I rolled over to face the digital clock on my nightstand, intent on hitting the snooze button so I could catch just five more minutes of Z's. However, once the time 8:45 registered in my brain, it quickly became apparent that a few more moments of rest was not an option. School started at 9 o'clock, and it took a ten minute walk to get there. Which meant I had five minutes to pull myself out of bed and get ready.


Quickly, I jumped out of bed, almost tripping over the bed sheets that had somehow wrapped themselves around my ankles. The damn things always proved to be a death trap, and I was sure, that, sooner or later, I would fall and break my neck because of them. Quickly peeling off my pajama bottoms and top, I slipped into one of my favorite Pierce the Veil t-shirts and a pair of black skinny jeans. My usual attire. Paired with my black hair with red streaks, piercing green eyes, and multiple ear and lip piercings, it practically screamed to the others at my school that I was emo. Or, in their words, an "emo dyke".

Frowning, I thought briefly of the things Stacy (a preppy cheerleader that had taken it upon herself to make my life as miserable as possible) had called me the previous day. I knew, since I was an emo, that I wasn't supposed to care what people thought of me, but, that didn't stop the pain that her words brought to my heart. Why couldn't people just let me do with my life what I wanted? Stacy herself certainly wasn't a good example of the "model student" in her own right. She slept around, had a different boyfriend every week, and wore enough makeup that she looked rather disturbing. She also averaged D's and F's in all of her classes, but her goons (the teachers and most of the other students) didn't seem to care about that. She got nothing but praise from everybody, while I got nothing but chastising. It just wasn't fair.

But I had better things to think about than what was unfair in my life, at least, right now. If I was lucky, my father would be passed out on the couch downstairs again, from drinking too much alcohol. If that was the case, I could probably get out of the house without him hitting me again. Funny, when I was younger, I was never scared of his abuse. Maybe because it didn't start until I was thirteen, when my mother died in the car crash. He blamed it on me, even though I wasn't the one driving. He was. Apparently, I was being too distracting, which caused him to veer into another car. The whole idea had me feeling sick, but now...I just tried not the think about it.

"Ebony, where are you?! You'd better come down here right now!" The sound of Dad yelling sent a wave of nausea through my stomach.


Not giving him a chance to come up here, I ran downstairs, grabbed my backpack, and bolted out of the house, heading towards Lineard High, the hell which I was required to stay in for four years. Well, one and a half years. I was a junior, and it was the middle of the year, so I didn't have that much longer to go.

Hopefully, I wouldn't run into Stacy until P.E., the only class that I shared with her, which also happened to be the last class of the day.

Oh, I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but... I'm a werewolf. My father is one as well. He's the beta of the Jasentine pack. As for me? Despite my father's position, I'm one of several omegas, the lowest rungs in the social ladder. It sucks being this way. The higher-ups always think it's fun to push us around and play mean pranks on us. And we can't do anything about it, because of the fucking status that they happen to have. If we do try to stand up to them, we'd risk being thrown out of the pack, and becoming a rogue. Most packs don't take kindly to rogues. In fact, most of the ones that I've heard about kill the rogues that they come across. I might be emo, but that doesn't mean I'm suicidal. I don't want to die.

After a few more minutes of walking, I finally reached school. Funny, there were students everywhere in the hallways, and, from the time on my watch, there were only a few seconds left before first period began. Well, at least that meant that I wouldn't be the only one who was late. It was always better when there were multiple people in the same boat.


All of a sudden, I was sprawled backwards, on my butt, on the ground. I groaned softly.

What had just happened? An ache in my bottom told me that I had fallen. Not only that, but I had run into someone. I looked across from me and found a glaring boy, who I did not recognize, staring down at me. His bright green eyes were narrowed, and the corners of his excellently sculpted mouth and jaw were turned down into a scowl. Overall, he looked gorgeous. But he was pissed at me. Probably for running into him.

"I'm...I'm...I'm sorry," I stammered, my pale face turning a bright red color. He shook his head briefly and then appeared to inhale. Then, strangely, his eyes began to glaze over with an emotion I could not interpret and the distaste in his face melted away, into something I did not recognize. It looked...not happy, but rather...like he were a wolf, stalking his prey. A predator. Did that mean I was a rabbit in his eyes? I was a werewolf, not someone to be stalked and eaten!

"The name's Alexander," he suddenly purred, his eyes training themselves on me. His voice was sultry, husky, and it made a slight shiver run down my spine. He offered his hand to me, probably so I could take it and get up, so I took it, letting him pull me up off the floor. As soon as I was up, my nose was met with his scent. It was...divine. Exquisite. Amazing. Musky, but also...like nature. Pine needles and crisp autumn leaves. How strange... it only took me a little while longer to realize that I was smelling him this way because he was a werewolf. Fellow werewolves always had a better scent than humans.

"A-Alexander?" I asked slowly, trying to comprehend what was happening. "Why do you...do I...do I smell funny to yo-"

He cut me off, "Yes. You smell like heaven, little pearl. And I have a hunch at why." A devious smirk tugged at his lips and I took a couple of steps back, trying to distance myself from him.

"Why, then?" I inquired, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer. "And, what pack are you from? I've never seen you before..." Alexander let out a slight chuckle, running a hand through his short, beautiful, golden locks of hair.

"I'm from the O'Hara pack," he began. My eyebrows went up, and alarms went off in the back of my head. O'Hara was one of the rival packs of mine.

"And," he continued, "You're my mate."


End of Chapter One

(A/N: Well, there's the first chapter! Was it cliche enough for you? Hehe, I hope it was. Stay tuned for the next chapter! It should come in possibly a week's time! :P )