#[ Hungry Like The Wolf ; Werewolf AU ]

[livesincerely]

possessive davey? a little snippet mayhaps?

“You don’t understand,” Davey says, and his words distort and echo, like a thousand voices speaking at once. “You might think you do, you might dabble in it, but my kind invented possession. So, don’t say you know what it feels like—you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He leans closer, close enough that they could be kissing, but instead they’re panting against each other’s mouths, breathing as one.

“Because I would carve my name into your bones, Jack Kelly,” Davey says, as fierce as any threat and as solemn as a vow. “I would hold your beating heart in my hands. I would sink into your skin, settle into your veins, and make a home in your blood for the rest of eternity.”

“Oh, god,” Jack breathes, transfixed and overwhelmed and utterly reverent.

Davey cradles Jack’s face between his hands, his thumbs stroking gently over his cheeks. “Try again,” he murmurs softly.

[thenixkat]

I do know that due to Laios' thing about trying to talk shit out first and generally not retaliating or defending himself when people are being dicks to him in this au people sometimes forget that he's a werewolf a lot and when they do remember tend to view his wolf forms with 'big friendly dog' lenses instead of a 230+ lb giant carnivore who very much could tear them to pieces if they keep pushing him and hitting him but chooses not to b/c grown folks are supposed to use their words/he'd rather not harm folks if it can be avoided/fighting back never worked out much in his experience.

[darkdemeter]

LITTLE RED RIDING

◤✘WANDA MAXIMOFF SERIES/AU'S | CATALOGUE Wanda Maximoff x GN/Female/Male Werewolf!Reader ☾ PHASES COLLECTION FIRST EDITION 2024, ISSUE NO.#3/8

NOTES ↳ Just a red riding hood retelling. Kinda. A bit more kinky... WARNINGS❕ ↳ SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI — MxF version pairing — FxF version pairing — unprotected sex — P in V sex — profanity — pet names "Lamb", "Sweetheart", "Hon", "Baby", etc — (male) reader receiving — slight possessive reader — Hydra agent! reader — enemies/lovers — I think that's it? SUMMARY ↳ Wanda is sent on a mission to recover data about Hydra's next big operation. However, she'll meet the guard dog of the information she needs. Lucky for her, red happens to be a very eye-catching colour, and for the price of indulgence, you let her have her data.

✎ 4.6k

@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz

↳ WANDA MAXIMOFF TAGLISTS

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III.  Never seek to engage the attention of a wolf, be it in the calm amidst its frenzy or the horrors of its territorial obsession. For the lamb is incapable of warding off a hungry beast bound by its insatiable hunger and lust for violence. And wearing a tolling bell around one’s neck only attracts the monster. 

  Funny, how a golden bell is now adapted into a short, red dress.

  “Alright, Wanda. Just focus on your target, get the data and get out of there.” Natasha sounds urgent now, unlike before. She’d been calm before. Something’s changed in her tone, it’s beset by rising panic. 

  Wanda can’t help but be drawn into the whirlpool of fear herself. Her eyes dart around the lavish hall, eyeing each of the guests as if any one of them would engage her with a gun to her head or a knife to her gut. In reality, that possibility can very well happen. 

  “And whatever you do, stay away from—” Natasha’s cut out, the connection severed, a hand encircles around Wanda’s bare wrist. 

  “Care for a dance, little Lamb?” You spin her to face you. She’s dragged into the iron grip you possess, she’s powerless to the violent glow of amber. You watch her intently like a wolf on the hunt, lured in by the weakened state of your prey. A lone and lost lamb sent into the den of her enemy. A delightful treat. 

  Wanda stares upwards and right into the pressing stare you share, sharpened canines primed to tear into her, images of what someone - something - like you could do to her in the blink of an eye. And what she hates most of all is how complacent she is in your embrace, and how quickly she shrinks from escape, her bravery discouraged. 

  You lead her across the floor, entrapped in a dance, pinning her to you with no chance of running from you. Not that she’d get very far. The rhythm is paced stiffly, leaving her to rely on you to take the lead. 

  You twirl her, grasp firmly on her before you draw her back into you. “Quite the alluring dress. I’ve noticed quite a few eyes on you tonight,” you chuckle, “mine included.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she answers, voice soft and silken with her accent.

 You click your tongue, scoldingly. “It’s wise to always be aware of what’s happening around you, Lamb.” Your tone drifts further into a darker undertone, words alluding to sinister intentions. “Else you will never see the beast that stalks behind.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration.” She tries to move, to free herself, but you don’t loosen your hold of her. Your hand remains on the small of her back, lips pulled into a wolfish grin, eyes laced with lustful hunger. 

  “Why the rush? Scared of me?”

  “M-maybe,” she gulps in truth, “as you said, I should be wary of what goes on around me. I know this story very well.”

  You cock your head to the side a little, interest peaked by the risen curve of your brow. “Oh? Do regale me.”

  “Loved ones advise her to not engage with the wolf. To keep her head and path straight for her Grandmother’s home.”

  “Unless she was served to the wolf on a platter,” you interject sharply just as you dip her, her spine curves back into the support of your arm, her green eyes flash with a mixture of intrigue and terror. How the sight of her beneath you arouses you, your core stirring with the familiar tingle of desire. 

  “But that’s not how the story goes.” She reprimands you behind the daggered end of a glare, eyes scornful in your offset course as you both encircle one another, bodies practically melded together and hands locked and bound to each other.

  You spin her again, leading her forward from behind. “The story serves as a cautionary tale only. Many have disregarded the warning labels and found their way off the path. But I myself, as a wolf, don’t waste time about it. I want you, little Lamb, not the gut full of rocks in the end.” 

  “And I want the data.” She’s upfront about it and you’ll applaud her for that. The amber hue of your eyes strikes a cold, mysterious flame to dwindle in her core and she finds her heart rate quickening.

  “And you wouldn’t make it three feet into the office. Not without someone like me getting you there.” 

  “Why help me?” she huffs with a quizzical, narrowed gaze.

  “The better.”

  None had so much as batted an eye in the wake of your saunter, Wanda practically glued to your side the entire time, a few of the guards snickering and mumbling to themselves. Wanda tried to strain her ears to overhear their silent glimpses and hidden, murmuring smirks to no avail. Whatever it was, it sure made your chest puff out with pride. 

  Down the hall, Wanda sees the doors of the office open under the command of your whim, gesturing to her to venture inside the dimly lit room. 

  Her eyes find yours, gaze bearing the resemblance of her hesitance. 

  “Well?” you say with a raised brow. Humming softly and affirmatively, she steps a heeled foot and crosses the threshold and immediately, she feels the air shift. No longer haunted by the eerie, warm glow of the hallway, now her skin is caressed by the looming darkness and its shadowy presence that grazes over her shoulder and moves towards the desk. 

  She follows you and then stops, still caught in the reverie of her disbelief as you tap away at the locked case that opens to reveal a laptop. The encrypted data, kept under strict guard, now rests open for her. 

  There has to be a catch. Her stare says as much with scrutiny, only you lay your palms flat in surrender. 

  “The data is all there for you to collect. No tricks, none of that.” Is it wise to believe you? Wanda is caught between a rock and a hard place either way. 

  To entertain or obey, she steps forward, retrieving from the slip inside her dress between her breasts, she brings to light the usb drive. Your eyes roll between the action and device, whistling lowly to yourself. 

  Wanda has to ignore the way her skin grows hot and flushed under your eyes that watch her. Bending low, she inserts the drive in and begins to download the data and provides you with a more than satisfying view from behind. You hear her sighing quietly to herself when a red, transparent box indicating an error flashes onto the screen. Of course the security system would be triggered. 

  “No tricks, huh?” she chastises with a huff only to feel the heated scape of your front bend, stretching over her beck as you lean forward, long arms caging her below you. She watches silently, tongue darting out between her lips as she admires your fingers work nimbly and precisely against the keys, overriding the error and allowing the drive to continue downloading. 

  “Protection. I’m sure you understand.”

  FEMALE

  “Looks like that download will take a while,” you remark coolly. Wanda now lacks the pressure of your stature, breasts pushed firmly against her back she is left both disappointed and relieved. Her eyes remain trained on the laptop screen despite the sixth sense that your eyes watch her intently, or rather, the lovely view she provides from behind. 

  It’s hard to explain to her rational mind but there’s something about you that creeps Wanda with a prickling notion that no matter what, the trail of your gaze never seems to leave her; at least not for long. Your words circle back into her mind. The mention that many eyes had been on her tonight, yours included, she wonders if the wolf has become animalistically smitten with her. Bewitched by her little red dress. 

  Curious of where exactly you lingered, she turns her sights behind her, following the way you peer down at her, about a foot or so from her, she turns to face you. 

  “Something you like, Wolf?” She doesn’t grasp the identity of this newfound courage, incapable of finding its unknown source. All she does know is that her question has piqued your interest and engaged your merriment. 

  “Maybe,” you answer smoothly with a click of your tongue that runs the lap over your teeth. A temptress that you want to devour whole heartedly, to satiate your wolfish appetite. 

  Hands musing into the slit of your pant pockets, you bask silently at the sight of her, her form arching ever so slightly backwards and resting her weight in her arms. The familiar threading of tightness of your core is enough to alert you to your blooming desire. 

  You saunter towards her, almost stalking over to her, she watches you as her eyes travel up and down. 

  “You ever been with another girl before, Sweetheart?”

  Biting down into her lip, she shakes her head and her chin dips low, hiding her flustered visage. “You wanna try it?”

  A very bold move on your part. You’ve trapped her against the desk, arms caging her on either side she feels her breath become locked in her lungs. A very tempting offer you give her, but one she is unsure about, her lips part to form the words only to fall silent. 

  “Don’t worry, little Lamb. You’re in very good hands, I promise. Think about it like this: I'm all the better to please you...”

  Your lips blaze a flaming trail along her neck and collarbone, each planted seed of lust leaves a shivering breath in its wake. Wanda lets you slip onto your knees and sensing what exactly you’re getting at, she leans further back, practically sitting on the desk as you saddle between her legs. Your teeth nip and graze, lips caressing softly the soft tissue of her inner thighs until her hand strikes out, latching hold of any amount of your hair she can grab. 

  “Shh,” you usher with a whisper, “fuck, you smell delicious.” Your breath is hot, far too hot, it sears her wanting core, her thong already soaked beyond any reconciliation that it may dry shortly. 

  Your tongue laps at her through the dark fabric, suckling on it to taste her juices that stain them and you groan deeply, the sound that of a feral animal. 

  Her hand in your hair grips tighter and tugs at your roots. 

  She whimpers as you dance your tongue, teasing her folds through her tongue before using the very muscle to push aside the flimsy, damp fabric and trace the moist slit of her clenching pussy. Moaning softly, her hips thrust forward. 

  The ribbony tug of her core enlightens her, bringing about an airy flow to what she feels, her head leans back and her legs open wider for you, your hands snake around the seam of dress and skin and pull her in that little bit closer.

  “M-more! Please, more!” she exhales loudly, breathlessly. You slide your tongue between her folds, massaging her spongy walls that pulse around it, her mewls and voice growing weaker and more feral with each lashing you inflict in her cunt. Clearly, her first time is one she’ll remember. Nuzzling the upper flat of your tongue presses to her clit and soothes it, rolling and dragging, she all but lurches forward slightly at the brink of her orgasm. 

  “Fuck– fuck! I’m cumming!” 

  She mutters a thousand more curses that sound like wistful prayers to your ears, hungrily devouring her release with a guttural moan that shakes the foundation of her final resolve. She barely catches herself slipping further back across the desk, the case and laptop at this point a forgotten element. 

  Pulling your head away - after thoroughly cleaning her slick, satisfied pussy - you stand tall and straight, looming over her like a dark, stormy cloud. The brilliance of her green eyes is shrouded in the darkness of your shadow, but the same hunger for more ever resides presently. 

  Your hand soon replaces the loss of your mouth and she caves to your will, splayed out for your touch to sate her newfound desire. 

  “I want more… that was…”

  “Exquisite?” you chime with a hum and she nods. No other word can possibly describe it so perfectly. She feels your long, toned fingers rub her up and down, smearing what little juices you left behind and toying with her delicate pearl, arousal buzzes to life at the mere grazing of your thumb. 

  You’re closer to her now, the scent of your powerful cologne overpowers her senses, drowning her with fulfilling contentment. Hands grappling hold of your arms, she claws her way deeply that you’re quite impressed with the level of strength she possesses. 

  Slowly, you insert two fingers and curl and she buckles under the pressure. A scream is halfway tearing through her throat but she bites into her lip to keep the volume minimal. 

  “Going to keep quiet, huh?” you tease and unfurl your fingers before repeating the pattern over and over, each time, going deeper. “Don’t want the guards out there hearing what I’m doing to you?”

  She doesn’t answer, unsure if this is a trick question or not, but she can’t find it within herself to further embarrass herself. 

  You insert a third and watch her watch contort. She whimpers, the sound ringing in your ears like a humming whistle, she rolls her hips in great desperation whilst your thumb firmly circles her clit, feeling the sensitive heat from her core. 

  “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” The line of your lips caress the structure of her temple, her eyes scrunch closed. Her mouth falls agape. 

  “W-Wolf…” Her sigh is a breath of fresh air to the clarity of your insane mind. You thrust your fingers harder and faster, the squelch of her cunt and the filthy sounds of her voice fill the room’s void with something beautiful. A harmonic symphony you’re drawn to, committing it to memory for now. 

  “Yeah, Lamb?”

  “I– shit, oh my— I’m gonna…” 

  You hum in approval and with a few more powerful thrusts, the walls of her cunt shrink around your fingers in a fight to keep you. Letting her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, she moves erratically until she stops, panting heavily and her shoulders shoving down.

  “Good, little Lamb,” you praise gently, “Good girl.” 

  Lips hovering against each other, the gap is sealed with a heated kiss, tongues weaving in post-euphoria passion that can easily set the world ablaze. 

  Who knew that fucking your enemy could be so thrilling?

  “What about you?” she asks, voice still shaken. “The drive is almost done. Let’s just say… you’ll owe me a little something next time.”

  “How do you know if we’ll meet again?”

  You flash her a cheeky wink. “I have my ways, Lamb.”

  MALE

  “Looks like that download will take a while,” you remark coolly. Your chest leaves the warmed crest of her back, leaving Wanda unbearably cold and wanting. She almost shivers at the loss of contact. She hears you shuffle back and although she initially tries to ignore the way your eyes linger on her, coasting over the view she’s now conscious of giving you, she freezes. 

  It’s hard to explain to her rational mind but there’s something about you that creeps Wanda with a prickling notion that no matter what, the trail of your gaze never seems to leave her; at least not for long. Your words circle back into her mind. The mention that many eyes had been on her tonight, yours included, she wonders if the wolf has become animalistically smitten with her. Bewitched by her little red dress. 

  Her lips part with a silent, suppressed moan at the noise from behind, your groan deep and husky and laced with desire. She dares to take a peek over her shoulder, following the length of her still bent body until her eyes find yours, seeing you seated in one of the mahogany leather chairs opposing the desk. 

  Clearly, you were enjoying the curve of her arse and the lacy thong that’s now soaked with her arousal. She turns to face you now, arms pressed back and her hands grip the desk’s edge, crossing one ankle over the other, you take in the exposure of her shapely legs before the cut off of the dress that rides across the high of her thighs.

  For a moment that carries far too long to not be labelled as eternity, you both just stare at each other in silence, a thick air of tension traces the distance between you both, sharing looks of deep, dark-rooted wanton for the other. 

  You pat your thigh expectantly, legs spread with the uncaring nature of your growing bulge that’s restrained by the confines of your dress pants. It's a command. Not a request. Directed by the cause of that mystique, she’s drawn to you like a moth to the flame, she saunters towards you with a gentle slander of her heels that rap over the floorboards one at a time. 

  All the while, you scan her up and down until she stands between your legs. 

  “My, my, the little Lamb can’t help but be allured by the Wolf,” you chuckle darkly. Biting deep into the plump flesh of her lip, she shakes her head and her chin bows. 

  “No…”

  Despite your invitation, she lowers to her knees, resting back on her legs as her hands run up the length of black fabric and towards your belt. Your throat contorts with an amused hum, brow quirked with analysis to her next move, her eyes searching for your approval; which you give along with a nod. 

  “What a pretty mouth you have.” You grin, toothy and wide, canines sharp and pronounced. She unbuckles the leather strap and tugs loose the fly of your pants and you groan as she gently palms your erected cock through your boxers.

  “The better to take you with.” She blushes deeply, her indulgence inwards to the fantasy you play out together. 

  Releasing your cock from your boxers, you breathe a sigh of relief, tip oozing with beads of precum and your shaft stiffly standing. Her tongue languidly traces the definition of your cock, up and down as she prolongs her eye contact, moaning softly as her tongue and lips tease your sensitive, bulbous tip. Your hips buck instinctively towards where your pleasure derives from, chasing after that fix aggressively. 

  You hiss, jaw clenched to the brink that you may very well break it,and Wanda continues to drag her tongue up and down, over you tip again and again, lapping long, slow strips and gathering the beady droplets along the flat of her sinful muscle that works you; hot breath beating down on you. You swear you almost fucking whimper like a maturing juvenile, with little control over your body. 

 “The Big Bad Wolf,” she whispers and takes the first third of your member, hollowing her cheeks and forcing your length further and further down. She gags and her throat grips tightly, causing you to groan. Your claws bite into the expensive leather with little care for its maintenance. Not when you have the prettiest fucking lamb on her knees before you, sucking your dick. 

  “Fuck, Baby,” you sigh heavily, “Yeah… yeah, let me see that mouth work.” Your lungs are on fire, heart pounding a thousand beats per minute. Her tongue swirls around you and she moans deeply, whining in resistance when her own mouth tries to work against her, refusing to take anymore of you without a fight. 

  So you decide you’ll give her a helping hand. A little nudge. 

  You extend a hand forward and lace your fingers into the locks of her fiery, brown hair, curling well to the roots and scrunch harshly. She winces and her green eyes are glazed with a watery curtain, fresh with hot tears. Showing an ounce of mercy - and that is all you’re capable and willing to give - you start slow in guiding her head up and down, your cock sinking back and forth in her mouth, gags and muffled moans stifled by the cutoff of oxygen. 

  “F-fuck yeah—” you growl lowly. Your head tilts back for a moment and your hips snap hard, forcing her to take the entirety of your cock down her tight throat with a much louder moan, out of shocking resistance or eager obedience.

  “Shit, Lamb… m-mmm…” She’s graduated from needing your hand and it falls lax, letting her pace herself and she continues the rhythm you set prior, her saliva gathers down to the base of your groin and your balls swell with your impending orgasm.

  You grin at the thought of her drinking your seedy load, face and chest covered with you. Eyes finding the screen of the laptop, you cannot help the haughty chuckle. It looks like you’ll have more than enough time to fully indulge yourself in your new company. 

  You further encourage her, voice laced with your evident loss of composure, she knows you near the end of your leash. With a few more thrusts, you sink her head down and your hot load shoots down the tunnel of her throat, she groans in pleasure as she sucks you down, mouth drinking everything you’re giving her. 

  A poor loss that you wouldn’t get to see her painted with your cum, but with any luck, you’ll get a chance further down the line. Your other hand runs through your hair, rolling it back into its refined form and Wanda pulls off, her lips drenched with a mixture of fluids, the sight marks your face with a darkened smirk. 

  “C’mon, Red,” you say with a lulling drawl.  Her eyes are dazed in the land of pleasured confusion, she takes your hand as if taking the guiding hand of an angel, knowing little of her actual fate. She’s led to straddle you, her core soaking down the front of your vest and your much satisfied cock that stands at attention once again.

  “W-we… we shouldn’t…”

  “We should.” You peck her lips, tasting yourself on her and you delve your teeth to take your bottom lip between them. 

  “I’m gonna take you for a little ride.”

  One hand stabilises her at her hip, her hands finding purchase on either the curves of your shoulder and in the locks of your hair, threading them to grapple on, your other hand curls the thin fabric of her thong and drags it aside. 

  Your tip kisses her entrance and she mewls, head bowing into the crook of your neck. How she’d make the perfect little mate for you. 

  Her hips roll down and forward, her breath a quivering tempo as the sheer size of you between her legs and she gasps, feeling you stretch her walls wide out. For a second she believes you’ve split her in two and her whimpers are buried in the graveyard of your shoulder, nestled there while you sheathe yourself into her cunt, inch by inch until you finally bottom out with a pleased sigh. 

  ‘Fuck, you’re so big…’

  ‘All the better to fuck you hard.’

    Just as you promised, you deliver. Picking up into a more suited pace, you piston in and out, the sound of skin meeting skin, the squelching of your combined juices and fabric rustling against fabric; breaths colliding in each other’s orbit. 

  Soon enough, she garners her steadiness and bounces her hips, far more eager to ride you to her climax, she moans deeply and curses under her breath, breasts constricted by the tight bust of her dress. 

  As much as you'd like to rip it off her, you understand she has a mission to complete and you don’t favour anyone’s eyes lingering on her anymore, gauging to see if they have a single chance. 

  Wanda Maximoff is yours for the taking, and you’ll fuck that notion into her until she understands it.

  “I-I’m cum—” 

  “Give it to me, Baby. Come on– give it to me,” you pant, hissing blissfully. You’re lost in the haze of your lust, like you’re in the middle of a hunt, it excites you greatly and the flow of your blood is poisoned by the hit of your predatory drive. 

  Her walls squeeze your stiff, pulsing cock, eliciting from you both sounds you’d never imagine possible, almost pornographic, your lips trace the contour of her exposed shoulder and collarbone, the thought to leave a few marks here and there not going unnoticed by your conscience. 

  Her body arches back and you truly see the magnitude of her beauty, breasts though snug in their place, bounce erratically to the rapid pounding of your cock kissing her cervix, her nails scratch and dig at the seams of your jacket, and you know right then that you want this woman at your side. 

  You’ll kill all the Avengers if you must, you’ll take down Hydra from the inside if needs be. But you’ll be damned to walk this earth alone or with any other that isn’t her. 

  “Sh-shit! I’m cumming!” she cries out, voice high and pitchy. Her walls are a vice around you, pulling you in without mercy and giving no intent to make it easy to withdraw, her orgasm hitting you.

  “Yeah, yeah– that—” you pause, hips speeding up as the second dose of your own release rises, you seize hold of her hips with far more tenacity than before. 

  She spurs you in, muttering over and over, chanting to keep going. To not stop, to keep hitting her right there, and you oblige. With a deep grunt, followed by a low, long noted moan, you cum. Your seed paints her walls and the swell of your knot ties her to you. 

  When she tries to pull off, you hold her still. “You’re not going anywhere for a while, Hon,” you say. When she moves again, her eyes widen, green hues shining in the light from the window, and her delicious lips form into an understanding ‘o’ shape. 

  Slowly and out of small necessity, your hips brush back and forth against each other, mimicking the more desperate action you’d shared before. 

  “Your data awaits you,” you coo with a chuckle, knowing she has no choice but to wait it out.

  Glancing over her shoulder to see the completed task of the drive, she turns her eyes back to you. 

  “How long does…” Eyes drifting down to where you’re connected, you lean back, arms stretching to rest your hands behind your head with a smirk.

  “We’ve got about an hour.”

—

  Wanda walks down the cobblestone lane, her body still enduring the aftermath of your erotic coupling, the car waiting out front of her. She dreads to see the sceptical glares of whoever came to her rescue, she pulls her coat over herself more to hide the potential discovery of her quivering form as she then enters the car.

  But not before turning to gaze over the curve of her shoulder, skimming the bite dark, green eyes finding yours; amber cheekily flaunting the alluring power as you bid her a gesture of farewell.

  She sighs as the car begins to drive off into the night, Sam behind the wheel, he concentrates on the road, meanwhile, Natasha’s eyes find Wanda’s in the rearview. 

  “Did you get the data?”

  “Right here.” Wanda passes the drive over and Natasha takes it, looking it over in the palm of her hand. 

  That’s when Sam sighs heavily, nose wrinkling. “What smells like dog?”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/Platonic OT6

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Intro]

The wolf pretending to be the grandmother, just to later swallow the poor red riding hood whole- is he attempting to gain your trust as well just to feast on your flesh later, once he gets hungry for a meal?

Tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Human?Reader, Platonic!OT6, strangers/enemies to lovers, fantasy AU, drama, angst, fluff, romance, suggestive themes and eventual smut, Alpha!Jungkook

Length: 2k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: how many different wolf-JKs can bonny write without it getting boring challenge

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

You've always been somewhat drawn into the forest far away from the cities, even as a small child.

You remember the family trips you'd take, camping out underneath the trees, your father showing you how to make a fire, and how to set up the tents. You always enjoyed weekends like these, even though they were incredibly rare. Your mom and dad had separated early in your life, and at some point, after your father had passed away, you simply never went back to the forest ever again.

Your mother, and stepfather would always warn you of the werewolves out there instead. 'There's a reason the government gave them those forests to roam around in.' She'd always scoff. 'So they'll stay away from us humans. So they can't hurt us.' She'd warn you.

Werewolves are beasts, hiding inside a human's body. Fierce animals, with no humanity inside them whenever they'd shift into their other forms. Their bones would break loudly, blood would spill and minds would change- and once they're shifted into their wolf forms, they'd eat people's children who'd wander too far from their families, never seen again after getting lost in the woods.

Nowadays, you hardly believe those tales.

You do however fear werewolf men- because statistics prove that they don't seem to have much control over themselves. Normally, just like your mother, you'd wear simple jewelry of silver to protect yourself- something many humans do, especially those that work with wolf people a lot, just to protect themselves. But you seem to have an allergy against that type of metal- it doesn't burn you or anything- at least it hasn't yet. You usually just get really nauseous and weak from wearing any silver- so you tend to not buy anything that contains the shiny metal.

Your mom said it's nothing too problematic. Just that you should stay away from it.

The birds chirp above you, some larger one's flying off while the small one's stay behind, curiously watching you as you sit in the grass, a blanket spread out that you sit on. You're grown up now. An adult, no longer really talking to your mother or your stepfather as much. Instead, you've created your own little life- something quiet, and easy, and simple. Nothing exciting, nothing adventurous.

You don't like things like that.

Excitement always brings a certain sense of danger with it, after all. And you've had enough dangerous experiences in the past to last you a lifetime, after all. You don't need more of that.

You'd rather stay like this- all by yourself, eating a simple prepared meal in the forest, surrounded by nothing but nature. Because nature doesn't look at you weirdly. Nature doesn't judge you, or ask you things that make you uncomfortable to answer. Nature just sees you as what you are- A simple human, not out here to harm anybody.

You suddenly spin your head around when a tree branch snaps in half behind you- and suddenly, there's a young man dressed in casual clothes, piercings in his face and very telling amber eyes looking at you, his hands lifted in front of him palms open to show he's no threat.

"I'm sorry- that was super rude of me to approach you from behind. Sorry." He sheepishly admits, before he walks a bit closer, hands in the pockets of his jacket now. "Where's your pack?" He asks, and you stiffen up.

"I- I don't have one." You deny. "I'm human." You admit to him, and he tilts his head a bit in question, as you watch his eyes seemingly glow for a split second while he- smells the air?

"Really? I could swear I'm smelling a wolf.." He wonders more or less to himself, before he shakes it off. Maybe someone had come by here earlier, and he's simply catching that scent instead of yours. "Anyways, I was just passing by and thought to check up on you. This is my pack's territory, so I kind of always keep an eye out for people who wanna cause trouble." He charmingly explains, shrugging his shoulders easily.

To think that that guy.. is an apparent 'beast' is kind of.. hard to see, really. He looks pretty innocent with his round eyes and soft facial features, hair a little wild in slight curls on his head. And you're sure, he looks more like a golden retriever happy to see another person, than a wolf.

A leader, at that.

"Your pack?" You ask, and he nods, almost proudly beaming at you.

"Yep!" He chirps, walking a bit closer now as he notices you not being weirded out or anxious. "Well- kind of. Namjoon is the head-alpha, I'm kind of his stand-in at the moment until he's back from his trip." He shrugs, pointing to your blanket. "Can I.. sit down with you? I promise I'm not gonna eat you like some red-riding-hood kind of situation." He jokes, and you scoot over a bit, letting him sit down next to you- though you make sure to pull your backpack a little closer.

"I have a silver knife in my bag anyways." You threaten. That makes his eyes widen a bit.. fearfully? "So don't try anything." You threaten, and again, he lifts his hands.

"I won't, promise." He promises, before he looks at you again rather curiously, leaning in a little. "But- do you have wolf-friends maybe?" He asks. "I swear you smell like wolf. Kind of. A little- it's confusing actually." He mumbles, and you scoot away from him at that. "Hey no- sorry, I didn't mean to come off as weird. I know you humans tend to be a bit wary of us here." He deflates, and you almost feel a bit sorry for him.

Almost.

"I don't have wolf-friends." You tell him. "And I'm sorry I trespassed on.. your territory. I'll make sure to go somewhere else next time." You say, but he shakes his head.

"Oh no, please!" He denies. "It's completely chill, really! Like I said we only don't want people wrecking stuff and causing trouble. Like, you know- parties and stuff. They always leave behind their trash and shit, and that's just awful." He shrugs, making you agree.

"I won't do that." You say. "Leaving my trash here, or wrecking stuff." You clarify, and he smiles.

"Thats good." He beams, getting a bit more comfortable. "So, what brings you here?" He asks, genuinely wondering. There's a clear sign at the entrance of the forest that this is werewolf territory after all- humans don't usually even go for a walk here at all.

They stay clear of this area, and usually, Jungkook likes it that way.

"I don't know, honestly." You admit, pulling your legs closer to yourself, hugging your knees. "I just kind of.. like it here." You shrug, and he watches you for a second, and you feel like his amber eyes stare right through you and into your very soul.

Like he can see something you didn't even know was there.

"Me too. I was born in these woods though, so that might explain why I'm so attached to it." He chuckles, no longer looking at you as intensely, and quite honestly, he seems like a nice guy to be around. The perfect balance of confidence, boyish-charm and the right pinch of gentle masculinity- if he wasn't a werewolf, you probably would've been a lot more open towards him.

But every time his gaze catches yours, you're reminded of what those golden eyes mean.

The wolf pretending to be the grandmother, just to later swallow the poor red riding hood whole- is he attempting to gain your trust as well just to feast on your flesh later once he gets hungry for a meal? You won't let it get this far. You're not a dumb child he can just trick by pretending to be a friend.

"I'm Jungkook, by the way. Alpha wolf, but I promise I've got myself under control. Even got a citizens' pass if you wanna see?" He proudly grins at you, and you can't help but look at him like you don't trust his words- so he grabs at his cotton zip-hoodie, patting down the pockets before he pulls out a black simple wallet, showing off the plastic card with his identification info, a small ID photo of his right next to it. He looks young in it- but a lot more serious. "There you go. Got an 85, makes me top 1% of all wolfbloods in the country." He shows off, shoulders high as he lets you examine the card.

It's true. His IC-score is a 85, IC standing for Instinct Control. You've never seen one this high to be honest- but then again, you don't have any wolf-friends or acquaintances. His name is Jeon Jungkook, he's born in the year 1997, and his ID states he's an Alpha*. You're not sure what the little asterisk on that means- but you also don't wanna pull the plastic card out of its compartment, so you just leave it at that.

"You're older than me." You say as you give it back to him. "Not by much, but a little." You simply mumble, and he smiles, happy that you now seem to relax a bit more. Suddenly, the first drops of rain begin to hit your head and shoulder- reminding you that you wanted to go back long ago to not get caught in the small shower the weather forecast had foretold.

"Oh wow, that's gonna bring a lot of rain." Jungkook notices, looking past you at a wave of dark clouds approaching, when the first thunder rumbles. "You should go back fast if you wanna stay dry." He offers, getting up to help you fold your blanket and back your backpack again.

"I actually hiked here." You sigh. "So I'm gonna get wet anyway." You shrug, and he looks at you a bit concerned.

"You can also just sit it out at my packhouse." He offers. "I promise you, we have multiple houses there. You can stay in one of the smaller ones just by yourself if you don't wanna be around the others." He explains, and you look at him, before glancing back down the steep path you'd taken from the city far away up here where the woods stand proudly on the high hills.

There's no way you'll stay dry on your way back down.

Then, you look back at him, his honey-colored eyes seemingly glowing underneath the darkening skies above. A warning from nature, maybe, that this young man holds a beast in his heart- a beast you've been warned about for years never to get too close to.

But there's something else.

Something that makes you nod at him, before he begins to grin and take your backpack for you, leading you through the shaking trees and treaded down paths through his woods, birds already flying towards their nests as well, chirping their warnings to others as well of the changing weather.

You're not sure why you keep holding his hand even after he's done helping you step over a large root of a tree bursting through the ground. Maybe because it's warm, and the wind now brings a chilling cold.

Maybe because you just don't want to get lost and be eaten like the children in the nursery tales of your mother.

Or maybe you just hold it because you've never held someone's hand before without them complaining about it.

He turns to look over his shoulder presumably to check if you're still keeping up fine-

Golden eyes shining like little fireflies as the woods become darker the deeper you go.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

T 🧛‍♂️ 🥵🎀 (also congrats! and I am very excited about this whole thing! 😘😘😘)

Thank you so much, love! 💖 This one is not as explicitly smutty as the other request I did for you, but I'm pretty positive this won't be the last time I visit this world. (And they will absolutely fuck nasty in later instalments.)

Sweet perdition

Words: 947 Rated: E Tags: Vampire & werewolf AU; Vampire Eddie; Werewolf Steve; Imprisonment; Non-consensual bondage; Sexual tension; Explicit sexual content; Homoerotic blood drinking Notes: Part 1

It seems, Kas thinks, like he needs to thoroughly reassess his notions of werewolves. 

He's just lucky none of his vampire siblings can see him now, shackled to the floor in the basement of the surprisingly fancy manor that is the den of Steve’s pack. Outwitted and taken captive by a bunch of mutts - he'd be an utter laughing stock. 

Then again, if his siblings think that all werewolves are ugly, hairy thugs with nothing but floof for brains, it only goes to show they’ve never met any real-life packs before. Or their very pretty, very witty, very naked leaders.

Speaking of which … 

“I see you. I know you're watching me.” 

A heartbeat passes in silence. 

“Don't give yourself too much credit,” Steve smiles as he steps from the darkness. “Merely checking if you're settling in alright.” 

“How very hospitable of you,” Kas snarls. “You treat all your guests like this?” 

“Only the ones that might tear out my throat while I'm asleep,” Steve shrugs, settling cross-legged on the ground, just out of reach. He's acquired a set of clothes since Kas last saw him. A pair of skinny breeches and a cream shirt with billowing sleeves, gathered at the wrists with little satin ribbons. He looks like a haughty young lord gracing a subject with his presence. 

“You could always just let me go,” Kas hedges. Steve snorts a boyish laugh. 

“Nice try,” he says. “Afraid I can't do that.” 

Kas groans. “Is this still about your stupid prey? I told you I have nothing to do with that. Animal blood makes me wanna hurl.” 

Steve’s face remains unimpressed. “Even if that's true, one of your friends might be involved. Keeping you around might come in handy.” 

“So you're just gonna leave me down here to rot?” 

“I didn't say that.” 

Kas is about to ask what the hell he is on about, but then Steve holds out his hand. Something unfurls from his fingers - a broad band of tan leather. Inlaid with silver like the manacles on his wrists, no doubt; designed to drain his powers without causing physical harm or pain. Dangling from the end are a metal clasp and lock.

Kas sneers. 

“I think you're a bit confused, wolf boy. If one of us should be in a collar, it sure as hell isn't me.” 

Steve shrugs, rising to his feet. “Suit yourself. I'll just-” 

Something rumbles, loud and humiliating. Steve turns back around, eyebrows raised. 

“Hungry?” 

Kas scowls. “Told you I haven't been anywhere near your food, didn't- what the fuck are you doing?” 

“You're of no use to me if you starve, are you?” Steve is undoing the ribbon on his left wrist with deft fingers, pushing the sleeve up to his elbow. “Drink.” 

Kas bares his fangs, drawing a breath to tell him to go fuck himself. 

And that is when the scent hits him. Coppery and hot and tempting like all living things. 

But also more. 

Also warm summer soil and newly mown hay and embers in a slow fire. 

Life. 

He's on his knees before he realizes it, nosing at the delicate skin of that wrist. Steve hisses lightly as he pierces his flesh, but he doesn’t pull back. 

The taste of him hits Kas like something solid, seeping heavily into his limbs and sending his mind abuzz with fuzzy sensations and images. The sky at dusk and sun on skin. Music and laughter and touch, and a forgotten name floating just out of reach. The warm, tingling heat pools at the base of his spine, setting his nerves alight with fire. He moans, lapping at the thin rivulet of blood like a parched man. Each droplet is like a hit of morphine, is sweet perdition, is another kind of shackle snapping shut. He knows, instinctively, even in this moment, that he's lost. He's powerless to stop it. 

“Enough.” 

Steve uses his free hand to yank him back by the hair. Kas snarls in protest, straining to catch the last precious drops falling from those long fingers with his tongue before they go to waste. Steve watches him while he licks them up. 

“Greedy, aren't you?” 

“Fuck you,” Kas snaps. 

Steve’s lips curl into a smile. “Oh, I'm sure you'd love to. That happen every time you feed or is that just for me?” 

Those hazel eyes are swirling with gold as they flick down, and Kas realizes with a detached sense of surprise that he is painfully hard. 

“Don't give yourself too much credit,” he drawls. “And besides, I could ask the same thing of you.” 

He turns his head, which is conveniently level with the very obvious bulk in Steve’s pants. The boy doesn't recoil when he scrapes his fangs along the outline of it, merely takes a well measured step back. He's a tough little bastard, Kas has got to give it to him. 

“I'll just leave this here,” Steve says sweetly. “In case you change your mind.” 

The collar clatters to the ground. Kas doesn't turn to look at it. His gaze is transfixed to Steve's hands fixing his shirt sleeve back into place. The ribbon soaks up the last beads of blood, crimson stains blooming on cream satin like flower petals. 

“Full moon's tomorrow, so you'll need to make that meal last for a day or two,” Steve says conversationally. “I suggest you put that time to good use and think about my offer.” 

Kas wordlessly watches how he turns his back and disappears into the darkness. The metal buckle of the collar glints in the low light of the basement.

The summery scent of life lingers long after Steve is gone. 

Werewolf!Robin: You let him drink your WHAT? Are you insane? What if he has vampire rabies?!

More celebration ficlets

[lovelykhaleesiii]

The Wolf & the Stray Girl. [PROLOGUE]

PAIRING: Werewolf!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Little Red Riding Hood AU]

WORDS: 531.

SUMMARY: Nestled in the outskirts of a desolate village, it was known that the woods were a dark, fearsome place not to be ventured. Yet something enchanting lived amongst its shadows, you were certain. And some may call it your bold willingness or others, your naive curiosity, would ultimately uncover the truth.

WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, missing persons scenario.

A/N - my brain is starting to function, and this plot is finally coming along. hope this entices some of ya'll I am actually so excited for this mini series to get out! hoping it’ll be 3/3 (excluding Prologue + Epilogue).

"You stay on that path, girl... Heed my words, carefully. Stay on that road, or you'll end up suffering whatever grave fate stole your sister from us.

The woods are a dangerous place, daughter. In the depths of a mere shadow between the bushes, are hungry eyes lurking. Sudden yet simple sounds, like that of a branch cracking beneath the weight of a stranger's step, abrupt enough to make you twitch towards its direction. These simple minded mishaps that our senses are spoiled in, may mean much more in these woods. Unfathomable forces beyond our feeble, mortal minds will attempt to lure you, eager to lead you astray, before captivating all your senses. Witless and mindless, your mind adrift before you take that first step off that path, you are already long lost, my dear daughter. These woods are life or death. Do not trust anything other than your intuition. I will say it just this once more... Heed my words, dearest daughter. Stay on that road, or we have lost you already..." Your father's daunting words echoed through your slumber mind. His eerie tone, blood-curdling enough, as icy chills spiked across your tender flesh. Regaining consciousness from your slumber, your tiresome eyes began to stir, fighting the sleep as they would flutter awake. In the fleeting moments it took for your sight to readjust to the dim, moonlit setting, your gaze naturally wanders towards the clear, glass window. Pondering over the misty darkness, the beaming silver rays of the moonlight provided a familiar and comforting sentiment. As your eyes lurked wondrously, the sudden grip that wretched at your heart, gripping your natural breath was brutal. In the near distance, just plain enough to decipher, two piercing, lilac orbs gazed upon your direction firmly, without even so much of a blink. Your soft lips fell agape from pure fright, an audible gasp sighing from your breath, as you hastily seated yourself up, leaning closer towards the window. In the sparing moments of your quick and instinctive movements however, it seemed whatever creature that had been prowling in the mask of the shadows, was gone. The direction, the spot in which you swore, you vividly remember having noticed the pair of enchanting, violet eyes ceased to exist. "Ouch-" You utter, your head falling towards your front, as you stare at the minor pinch mark, remaining from your mindless outburst. You needed to make sure this was no dream, that you truly were wide awake, and that all your vital senses were very much functioning. "The woods are a dangerous place, girl..." Your father's words once more ingrained into your memory, his seldom voice filling your ears. And yet, something about those lingering, arresting eyes in the distance, something about the way they did not terrify you, a habitual, gut feeling that churned inside of you, gathering that whomever the eyes belonged to, did not seem to want to hurt you. Your mind absently carried on indulging in such lucrative thoughts, your restless body began to find itself yearning for slumber once more... The day ahead would be a strenuous one, rest was much needed now, before daylight broke and called for you...

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

[candycandy00]

So I thought I’d introduce the concepts for my JJK Fairytale AU. Some of you sent in some interesting suggestions, but in the end I decided to go with the most famous fairytales that would fit. I’m already writing the first one, Gojo x Cinderella. You’ll notice some of these ideas are more developed than others. Here are the others I plan to write. 

Please vote for which one you’re most interested in! I’ll write them all but I’m curious about how much interest people have. It might affect the order I write them in. 

Geto x Little Red Riding Hood

Reader is a young woman traveling through the dangerous woods to reach a safe house. This is a kingdom ravaged by war, and she’s a medic. She has medicine and supplies that she needs to bring to a military safe house to treat some injured soldiers there, but there’s a big bad wolf (Geto) stalking her. He was an enemy soldier she saved once, now turned into a werewolf, and hungry for her in more ways than one. 

Toji x Snow White

Reader is a beautiful young woman living in a small rural village. There’s a huntsman who lives close by (Toji) who is a lot older than her, but she has a bit of a crush on him. For his part, he thinks she’s pretty but also thinks she’s too young for him (she’s like 20, he’s late 30’s). So he mostly ignores her. He’s known for being an excellent hunter and gets hired to go hunt dangerous animals in the woods. The evil queen hires him to take Snow White into the woods and kill her, but once he actually spends time with her, he might decide to just keep her. 

Choso x Rapunzel

Reader is gathering herbs in the forest and stumbles upon an old watch tower inhabited by a cute but antisocial hermit (Choso) who seems sweet and keeps talking about his brothers who are “out” and will be back any minute. She starts visiting him regularly because she likes him, but she suspects his brothers might be dead and he just can’t face it. One day she gets attacked by a wild boar and injures her ankle. Choso finds her and takes her back to the tower. She faints and wakes up to find that he’s locked her in the top of the tower and won’t let her leave, because he’s afraid she’ll leave and never come back, just like his brothers. Choso as a classic Yandere. Reader’s only plan is to grow her hair out long enough to make a rope with it to escape. 

Higuruma x Little Mermaid

Reader is a mermaid in love with a lawyer who lives in a coastal town and specializes in shipping contracts (Higuruma). She makes a deal with the sea witch and signs the contract to get human legs in exchange for her voice, but when she formally meets Higuruma, she ends up showing him the contract. He’s flattered that she did all this for him, but (like in the original story) the new legs cause her terrible pain, every step feeling like walking on glass (seriously the original story was fucked up). Will this genius lawyer be able to find a loophole in her contract and free her? 

Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty

Reader is a princess who was cursed at birth. If she ever pricks her finger on a needle, she’ll fall into a deep sleep/coma. Her parents recently died, leaving her as the young ruler. Her first step is to hire a new captain of the guard, a mysterious and powerful man rumored to be a murderer (Sukuna). She’s instantly attracted to him, and despite her obvious flirting, he rejects her everytime, smugly saying a dainty princess like her couldn’t handle him. But when she ends up pricking her finger, Sukuna recognizes the curse, and knows that she’s still aware of everything, can still feel and hear everything. And the only way to break the curse is to fuck her. 

Nanami x Beauty and the Beast

Since multiple people mentioned wanting Reader to be the Beast, I’m going for it! That’s right, Beast Tamer Nanami! Reader was cursed by a witch to be a beast (she’s still cute though, more like a lil bunny girl lol) and her royal parents are ashamed of her so they banish her to a secluded castle. Then they hire Nanami to take care of the place (and Reader). 

[bytedykes]

[ID: Six Ace Attorney sketches of an AU in which Edgeworth is a vampire and Phoenix is a werewolf. They're all either in blue or black lines.

Full body drawing of Phoenix, with wolf ears, a tail, and clawed fingers. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He runs with a grin, his hands clawed at his sides. Beside him is stylized text that says HUNGRY like the wolf.

Simple sketch of Phoenix gaping in exaggerated shock at Edgeworth, who sits with one leg crossed over the other and sips from a teacup. Edgeworth is saying, "Ha ha, very funny. Werewolves aren't real." Phoenix is labeled "Just told him he's a werewolf" and Edgeworth is labeled "vampire".

Phoenix with a distressed and irritated expression, pointing at himself with both hands. He says, "The fuck do you mean 'not real'?? What am I, then, a sheep?????"

Phoenix is shirtless, with bite marks on his neck. Edgeworth holds him by the waist and is drinking from his neck, his face not visible. Phoenix has a flushed smirk and says, "Woah, haha, is this kind of gay or what?" Then there's a simple doodle from the opposite angle, Edgeworth looking up from Phoenix's neck to frown and say, "Can you shut the fuck up."

Edgeworth and Phoenix in Halloween costumes. Edgeworth is in a classic vampire cape and Phoenix is in a collared shirt with his wolf ears out. Edgeworth flatly says, "Wright, this is idiotic. I am already a vampire, this costume is redundant. Unlike your shoddy werewolf costume, I do not need one to present as a supernatural 'creature', and furthermore-" Phoenix elbows him in the side and with an irritated face says, "Can you shut up?"

Edgeworth frowning in resignation as he sips from a soda cup. He is labeled "blood break :)". /end ID]

silly doodle dump of @kar-krashew 's au where edgeworth is a vampire who refuses to believe phoenix is a werewolf 🐺🧛

[delopsia]

Coyote | Miles Miller x Reader

Word Count: 7,500 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+. AFAB!Reader, wolf! Reader, coyote! Miles (it's a werewolf AU with a twist), mentions of food PTSD and forced marriage, running away together, car sex, and overstimulation. No established time setting, so you can imagine this as a modern! AU or canon to when the movie took place :) Brief Summary: You've got no choice but to marry the son of a rivaling family in order to bring unity once and for all. But on the night before your dreaded wedding, Miles makes good on your wish to run away together.

This bed used to be comfortable.

Falling into it once felt like plummeting through the sky and being caught by a giant, fluffy cloud. Soft, delicately scented sheets, washed in a laundry detergent exclusively used for this room alone. One of the many perks of the honeymoon suite, alongside the extra space, pink interior, and a promise of complimentary, sweet drinks, so long as you took the time to visit the front desk and ask for them. 

Your head lifts, craning to peer over your shoulder. The sleeping body that occupies your bed isn't the one that you're used to. Stiff. Not the snuggly presence that you've grown to associate with this mattress. His back has long since turned to you, growled snores rattling every last nerve you've got. And yet, you can't help but be thankful that he's not awake and looking at you. 

Because then you'd be forced to confront the reality of this situation you've found yourself in. 

Reluctant, your eyes flick to the dresser. It's usually up beneath the two-way mirror, but now, it has found itself awkwardly shoved into a vacant corner. If only the stark white wedding dress sitting on top of it had taken note and miraculously found its way into the dumpster. But like the gaudy ring sitting atop the bedside table, it hasn't moved an inch.

Come dawn, his nameless sisters will rush into the room and help shove you into it all. Dressing you in costume like one of their childhood dolls, powdering your face with extravagant makeup, and helping you into those too-high shoes that your future mother-in-law so stubbornly insisted you wear. As if walking down that aisle wasn't hard enough, to begin with. 

It's cruel, truly. 

Your feet are destined to walk a fine line between two families. To become the glue—no, the contract that will bind them together for the rest of eternity. A purpose that was placed upon your shoulders before they had even formed in the womb. Because a bunch of old men and women couldn't settle things like adults, crying about how its not the way your ancestors would have wanted it.

Werewolves. Stuck so far in the past that even modern history does not recognize them. 

Up until recent, you'd found them all to be the same. Clinging to the shiny title of their ancestors, vying to establish themselves using the accomplishments of those before them. Stubbornly clinging to their old ways, fearing the concept of change more than the fangs of a hungry vampire.

You'd thought it when you were approached with the demand that you meet the son of the family that rivaled your own. Travel from the warm comforts of one state and into a cold, unfamiliar one every weekend to meet him and to fall in love. And if you could not find love, you would need to learn tolerance. Accept this unhappy future for the sake of the family, they said. For your troubles, you were offered a reservation at a comfortable hotel. A place to rest in between the drive and enjoy the last of your freedoms before the wedding bells rang. 

Oh, but that doe-eyed boy behind the reception desk...

Miles.

In the past, you've heard your family refer to families of coyote-based shifters, but until you stumbled into this little hotel, you'd never met one in person. And even then, you couldn't pick one out of a lineup if your life depended on it. But from the moment you heard him knock on your door during your very first stay, you'd known something was different about him. 

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, wild blue eyes darting every which way as he held out a small, familiar object in his hand. Your wallet. "You—you forgot this on my desk."

He could have kept it. Lord knows he needed every penny in there, but he'd brought it back to you just as you'd left it. 

"Oh," quite frankly, you were speechless. Even now, you can't think of anything you could have said to fill the awkward gap of silence as you took it from his hand. "Thank you..." Your eyes frantically scanned across his jacket for that damned name tag. But it was upside down. Forcing you to tilt your head for a better read. "Miller?"

His eyebrows furrowed. Head tilted, like you had just spoken in a different language. "Huh?"

"That's your name, isn't it?" You nodded towards the nametag. 

He had to follow your gaze to figure out what you were looking at. And as soon as he realized, his hands jumped into the air. "Oh!" Scurrying to fix it. Laughing. "I'm—I'm sorry. It's...my name is Miles..." Then, paused as he was in the process of flipping it, hesitantly meeting your eye. "Miller is my last name." 

The only thing you'd known to do was to smile and correct yourself, but now the silence was unbearable. Miles and his awkward grin, wringing his hands, eyes flicking every which way. But then, all of a sudden, his head snapped toward the double doors of the lobby. He'd heard something, but you couldn't pick up a damn thing. Even as he apologized and darted off, you couldn't figure out what the hell he was hearing. 

Strangest of all, a strange scent clung to the fabric of your wallet. Earthier. Like standing in a forest after a storm. That was no wolf scent; in fact, you had never encountered it before. 

What was it? 

You got your answer when, on your second visit, he ambled back up to your door—carrying a slice of pie fresh out of the oven, still steaming and hot to the touch. The same flavor you had looked for when you first arrived at the hotel, only to find that it was the one flavor freshly sold out. Originally, it was an apology for the off-putting note he'd left you on, but then he'd accidentally let go of the plate before you fully had a hold of it. 

He'd yipped the moment the ceramic hit the ground. Then burst into an apology, claiming the noise to be some 'dumb coyote thing.'

The walk back to get another slice ended in chatter that has yet to die down. 

Maybe he bewitched you with the sweet treats and cozy blankets he brought out of the exclusive bungalows because you didn't like the texture of the ones typically used to furnish your room. Or it could have been the soft touches and delicately whispered comments as if speaking any louder would cause the sentiment to lose all of its meaning. 

But one way or another, you found your arms wrapped around those lithe shoulders. Catching each and every single one of his flurried kisses. Soft and giving, never demanding a thing, and so, so eager to give everything to you, even if that wasn't very much to start with. Stumbling backward until the back of your knees hit the bed, losing your balance in an instant. 

You haven't quit falling since.

The body next to yours shifts, rolling closer to you, and the hand that skims your back does nothing but make you wriggle to the edge of the bed. Those aren't the hands that you've grown accustomed to, appearing softly at first. Feather-light fingertips stroking up the curve of your waist, gradually gaining confidence in his touch the further he goes until he flattens his palm against your belly.

A part of you can still hear what Miles would say right now.

"Is this still okay?" His lips always brush against your bare shoulder. Always seeking the reassurance that the boundary is still where it was a couple of hours ago, perhaps due to his own wavering line of what he can and can't handle. 

The following whispered consent is religiously rewarded with a lingering kiss, his warm breath fanning out against your skin. Followed by another. And another. Guiding himself up your cheek to press one to your lips before nuzzling his nose into your neck.

They say coyotes and wolves don't mix, but you go together like lightning and thunder. Where Miles is swift and flickering, you are the booming, large presence that follows. 

Tap.

Your head lifts.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There's nobody outside the window; there are no curtains, no scent to reveal their presence. Your eyes are designed for this very lighting, and yet, you cannot spot a single thing out of place. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It's not coming from the window. No, the tapping is...inside the room. 

As slow as you can physically manage, you slip from the bed, careful not to disturb your sleeping partner. The last thing you feel like dealing with is a know-it-all man stealing the reins from your more-than-capable hands. Like he did when Miles turned up at the door, returning the ring you intentionally left at his desk. He damn near shoved you out of the way, unable to allow a coyote like Miles around you, even for a second. 

Tap. Tap. 

Coming from your right. But that doesn't make any...

the mirror.

The mirror is open. 

"Miles," you can barely recall the sensation of your feet crossing the floor. Slipping into his warm arms before you can think twice, uncaring of the awkward gap you must lean over. "How did you..."

"Shh," squeezing you as close as he can possibly manage. "If he catches us..." 

You'll both be dead. 

But the continued, growling snores insist he's not waking anytime soon. 

Reluctant, you peel yourself away from him. Too eager to get a glimpse of his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to—I..." he pauses. Recollecting himself. Squeezing your shoulders in his palms. "Do you remember what you said about wantin' to run away with me?"

You don't...you don't know what to say. Head tilting to glance at the occupied bed. Then to your luggage. Just moments ago, you were daydreaming about Miles, but, but... God, where will you go? How will he hide you from the sensitive noses of your family?

"I—I got my car workin' again, and I found scent blockers, and," he gulps so hard that his Adam's apple bobs. Frantic eyes flicking to the bed. Then back to you. "I ain't been there in a while, but I've still got that little apartment I told you 'bout."

You know where he's going with this. And your heart is hammering against your chest. Begging you to say yes. But your head knows better. There's no way you can escape without being caught. "Miles..."

"I know I ain't got all that much. I don't...I know I can't give you the same kind of life he could, but I..." his forehead presses against yours. Big, warm hands rising to curl around your cheeks. Blocking out the rest of the world as his heart continues to pour off of his tongue. "I can promise I'll love you until you're absolutely sick of me. Like you are of that pie I keep bringin' you."

As if that wasn't enough, he leans in and seals it by leaning in and meeting your lips. The gentlest of locks, hardly enough to count as a kiss at all. It feels like the first, all over again.

And you'll be damned if it's the last. 

It takes five and a half steps to reach your suitcase. Three to slip into your shoes. One more to snatch that gaudy ring off of the bedside table. Ugly but valuable, given all of the things you've heard about it since it was shoved onto your finger. 

The wheel clangs against the wall as you lift it. Miles goes pale. You freeze. The whole world stops turning. Slow, as if moving too quickly will cause the man in bed to stir, you turn your head. 

Still asleep. 

Getting the suitcase through the mirror should have been the hard part, but in reality, it's figuring out how to get up and swing your legs through the gap without smacking your head on the top. Miles's guiding hands are the only thing that helps you pull it off, firm against your waist, holding you firm in the event you lose your balance. 

One foot leaves the worn hotel carpet.

The other lands on the solid, cement floor of the hidden corridor. 

Miles swings the mirror shut. The latches audibly slide back into place. And suddenly, it's completely and utterly silent. Mere feet away from a man you've already forgotten the name of. Maybe you would remember if your attention wasn't wrapped up in the sight of Miles himself. Soft and real and dressed in that cozy mustard yellow cardigan. 

He looks at you.

You look at him.

For a split second, telepathy is real. And you're both thinking the same damn thing. 

"Oh, what the heck," he breathes, arms already beginning to open up, "c'mere."

It's the easiest thing you've done in your life. Stepping forward, shrinking that gap between your bodies in an instant. Arms draping across those lithe shoulders, noses crashing together as he clumsily kisses you. Careful arms curling around your waist.

Oh, it's everything you were just dreaming about. The dizzying sensation of him using his weight to push your back up against the chilly cement wall. Such a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating off of him, daring to press up against you. 

You're melting like ice cream in the sweltering summer sun. Fingers lazily tangling in his hair, falling into the plush caress of his lips against yours. He tastes like the cola he keeps hidden behind the bar, so sweet that you reckon he's giving you a secondhand sugar rush, chasing away the remnants of sleep that still cling to your psyche.

The tips of his fingers brush at your nape, crawling to trace against your cheek, then down your shoulder. Can never seem to keep those big, weathered hands occupied for more than a few seconds at a time. Always has to be moving. Always. 

You need to get going. Run before anyone notices your absence and comes looking. Can't even begin to imagine the things they would say if they walked in on you like this. Running away on the night before your wedding, tangled up with your new lover before a minute has even passed.

"Miles..." speaking against his lips. A half-assed effort that dies down as soon as he closes that gap again. Leading with his nose, the cold tip of it brushing against your cheek. 

"We should stop..." he whines into your kiss like he's been longing for it all his life. On the same damn page as you, just as helpless, too. "We should..." 

His hips twitch forward. Clumsily knocking into yours. The slightest brush of your bodies, and yet it's enough for you to catch onto what you've done to him. Hard as a rock in those stretchy work pants, so damn visible that you can see the bulge of his cock, right here in the dark. 

Bold, you push forward. Foreheads bumping together as Miles struggles to back track, feet tangling, falling back against the wall with a surprised grunt. Wide eyes peer back at you, confused, but only for a moment. His unspoken question is answered by the sudden pressure of your palm, curling around the outline of him through his slacks. 

Those pretty eyes fall shut, sucking in a breath. "Wha—here?"  Though he's not putting up much of an argument against it. Struggling to suppress the whine that rolls past his lips, hips twitching up into you. So, so sensitive, no matter how many times you've done this to him.

"Do you want me to stop?" You're almost certain what his answer will be, thumb already toying with the metal of his button. 

But his silence still has you waiting. 

His head drops, forehead landing against your shoulder, almost ashamed to whisper, "...no." 

The drag of his zipper is enough to make the button pop loose, so cheaply made that it was barely fastened in the first place. Your daring fingers slip inside, seeking the soft material of his boxers...that you don't find. 

No, instead, your fingertips brush against warm skin, not another layer of clothing there to separate you from his heavy cock. And despite your surprise, your hand is already wrapping around him. 

"Had a customer while I was gettin' dressed," Miles blurts, suddenly talkative as you give him a loose, experimental stroke, figuring out which angle is most comfortable for your arm, "I didn't have time—oh," your thump swipes over his weeping tip, always so wet for you, "and then, and then you walked in the door and I..."

"Forgot?" Filling in the blanks. Hardly able to pay attention to what he's saying. Too busy paying attention to the weight of him in your grasp, how his cute hips rock back and forth on their own, subtle accord. You shouldn't get this much pleasure out of stroking him, spreading his precum down his shaft. 

His head nods against your shoulder, hair tickling your neck. "Uhuh."

Your eyes flick to the mirror, peering through the darkness of the hotel room you were in just minutes ago. Not a soul has noticed your absence yet. But even if they had, you don't think you'd be able to care. Too wrapped up in the soft whimpers that fall off Miles's tongue, the way they grow louder when your spare hand twists in his hair, pulling gently. 

His head lifts, and your mouths crash together with all the grace of a trainwreck. Teeth clattering. Tongues meeting without a shred of notice. Messily tangling in the chilly air. Punctuated by Miles's sharp inhale. 

Outside, a truck engine roars to life. 

"Car," Miles chokes, "we gotta..." 

It's the biggest power struggle of the century, his lithe body rolling against yours, too eager to feel you and have you and eat you alive, all at the same time. The sly twist of your wrist does absolutely nothing to help his case, eyes scrunching shut at the feeling. He's only got control of his hand, darting into his pocket. Returns with a thin plastic tube that you smell before you see. 

Roll-on scent blocker. The nastiest combination of chemicals you've ever encountered, but they do their job as promised. Warm against your temple as he rubs it on you, covering your scent glands, one at a time. The ones on your neck, behind your ears, and the insides of each of your wrists, that horrid, sterile stench assaulting your nose like a bad memory. An unpleasant experience drawn out by the way you continue to torment your lover, thumb massaging beneath his sensitive tip all the while

But it's on, and Miles is damn dragging himself away, shoving himself back into the confines of his pants before he can even begin to second-guess his decision. Lips so wet that they shine, catching in the fraction of light provided in this dark little corridor as he bends down to grab the handle of your suitcase.

"Car," he repeats as if he's trying to convince himself more than you.

His spare hand reaches out, an open invitation that you're already halfway into taking. Fingers locking around each other, tightening as he guides you down this maze of a hallway. Past room after room, around two sharp bends, toward a dull, hardly helpful light. You're pretty sure he borrowed that bulb from one of the bungalows after management defaulted on their usual payment for supplies. 

You wonder if this is the last time you'll ever see this hotel. 

The somewhat offputting taxidermy behind the reception desk. Clashing with the refined purples and blues of this section of the building. Dusty gambling machines and tables that haven't seen a game since last winter are now only useful for storing cleaning products and a stash of towels. 

All so dead compared to the vivid gold, orange, and brown across the room. Warm lighting and the equally cozy booths snuggled into the lower floor. Far too pretty to be surrounded by a floor tile that aims to recreate an enchanting stone pathway, and has instead become a heaven to dirt and trash that no mop or vacuum can fully collect. 

It's all there and gone in a second, cut short by the squeal of the front doors, opening up to a big, rainy world, all yours to explore. The parking lot is so flooded that it's become one big puddle, splashing as you run through it, licking at your exposed ankles. You can hardly tell where you're going, blindly led by the hand that has yet to let go of yours. 

The car is parked all by its lonesome in the center of the lot, away from the other residents and directly across from the vehicle you were driven here in. Only when you're close does Miles let go of you, treading toward the back of the vehicle while you reach for the car door. You've never been so thankful to find that something is unlocked, damn near falling into the backseat.

Miles is on you before you even hear the trunk close. Hips slotting between your thighs as he squirms on top of you, giggling as he trails kisses up the side of your neck. Leading himself over your jaw and across your cheek, moving so quickly that it almost tickles. Only pausing to linger when he meets your mouth, humming like the cat who got the cream. 

"Whole darn weddin' party is parked out here," he grunts, unabashedly rolling himself against your thigh, "almost feel bad for stealin' you away."

"Don't," sucking in a breath, tugging at that damned cardigan of his, "the wedding was more for them than it was for me."

He leans back on his haunches, tugging the flimsy material from his shoulders. Tosses it somewhere up in the front seat. "Promise I won't make ya feel like that if we ever get to have one."

Your head is spinning, struggling for an ounce of sanity in this cramped little car as you reach to push your shorts down your legs. "Do you want me to go back for the dress so you can marry me before the sun is up?" Half joking. 

You fear you'd do it if he asked. 

But his head just shakes, already beginning to fumble with the buttons of his work shirt. "Nah,"  two snap off entirely, scattering into the leather seat. By the time you realize he's got it off, he's already halfway into peeling that final layer over his head. He's on you before the old tee has even landed on the floorboard. Returning to his favorite place between your legs. "You were right when you said that the dress doesn't suit ya at all."

It's hard to lift your hand to your heart and feign shock when his chest is pressed up against your own, careful lips pressing kisses to the underside of your jaw. Hell, working up a tone of mock surprise is even a task. "You were watching me change?"

"You," kiss, "were facing the mirror," another kiss, "lookin' right back at me the whole time." One more, right on your lips. Too innocent for what goes on down below, the heavy bulge of his cock rubbing against you.

On their own accord, your legs are circling him, pulling those lithe hips even closer; he's got the idea, already beginning to grind into you in earnest. Makes it so, so hard for you to focus on your half-assed attempt at defending yourself. "I was trying to see what I looked like!" 

"Do you always mouth my name when you undress?" His words come out breathy, like the very memory is enough to get under his skin. "Had half the mind to open the mirror right then 'n there."

You can't even begin to imagine what kind of hell would unravel if he'd done that. Haven't a doubt in your mind that you would have been on him in a second, much like you are right now. Frenzied hands smoothing past his biceps, scurrying up to slide across his back. Silky smooth beneath your palms, interrupted by a raised scar that sits next to the knobs of his spine, with a story you'd rather not recall. 

All too quickly, it's fallen quiet in this little car. Nothing but the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof, set alight by the distinct red glow of the grand, neon sign hanging overhead. As if anyone could possibly forget they were staying at the El Royale. So damn bright that it reflects off Miles's pale skin, glistening as he kisses down your neck, soft mouth so feather-light that it tickles in the best of ways.

He jerks backward. Face twisting like he's eaten something sour. Barely manages to keep his eyes open. 

"Get a taste of that scent blocker?" You giggle, already halfway into reaching up, curling your palm around his cheek. Now, it's your hand that is bathed in the warm, red glow. 

"Uhuh," and he's already responding to the faint nudge of your fingertips, eyelashes fluttering closed as he meets you halfway.

And despite it all, it's as gentle as it has always been. The sort of thing that melts you around the edges, with the slow guide of his lips, massaging against yours in an elegant dance that no soul can recreate. Head spinning like a tiny ballerina in a music box, moving to a melody that only you two can hear.

But then your delicate tongue is swiping against his lower lip, and he's parting with a dizzying gasp. Downright placid as you lick into his mouth, so shy he can hardly rise to greet you, darting away the moment you meet. But then he's back again, lazily tangling with you, fleeting meetings and contented hums, bodies pressing impossibly closer. His hips involuntarily twitch up into yours, the outline of his cock rubbing against your cunt, and the two thin layers between you do nothing to stop you from feeling how he spasms in his slacks. 

Your touches are wandering. Skating down his neck and across his chest, svelte and gently muscled, like you're running your palms across a marble statue. Dancing over the slight dent of a scar on his belly, the one he's only recently felt comfortable having touched, past the divots of his ribs and down his sensitive sides. 

He's everything, and he doesn't even know it.

"Miles..." gasping into his mouth, breathless. 

His head tilts. You can almost see those large, pointed ears twisting on the sides of his head. Always curious. "Hm?"

Hell. You don't even know what you were saying his name for. Wordless, your hand continues to wander between your bodies and across the hem of his pants, cupping him through them. Rewards you with a groan far too loud for this tranquil backseat. 

Overhead, thunder rolls as if Mother Nature herself has risen from her slumber to remind you of where you are. How easily you can get caught if someone notices your absence and walks out into the parking lot. One little peak into the windows is all it would take. 

You don't have the luxury of taking your time. Not tonight, at least.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You hitch your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and tug. With Miles between your legs, you're forced to draw your knees to your chest to fully draw them down, forcing him to lean back. He's already batting your hands away, pulling the thin material past your heels and dropping them on top of his own clothes. 

It happens so quickly compared to how slowly things were progressing just moments before. Your curious fingers pulling at his zipper for the second time today, too eager to see him spill out of his slacks once more, pink tip flushed so red that it rivals the neon glow cast upon you. Not necessarily big in size, but thick enough for it to be noticeable.

Ugh, you hadn't realized how wet you were until now, cunt leaving him glistening from dragging between your folds alone. 

"Fuck," you whisper over an airy breath, struggling to keep your eyes open, "I missed this." 

The corner of Miles's lip rises, eyelashes fluttering like tiny butterflies, bashfully smug in a fashion that only he can pull off. His mouth moves, but not a word comes out, too focused on watching his cock head drag against your clit to produce more than a hum. Those narrow hips have already found the pace you didn't realize you were craving; he always has been a quick learner. 

It's mesmerizing to watch the plush tip gliding in and out of your view, leaking a bead of precum that gets lost in your wetness. And you can't help but reach down and run your fingers overtop of him, feeling over the myriad of bulging veins. 

Without warning, his body twitches backward a smidgen too far, unintentionally sliding down to nudge against your entrance. Delicious pressure blooms, and you fear you're too far gone to put it off any longer. Eager hands rise to curl around his biceps, squeezing lightly as his head slips inside.

"I..." those eyes of his are focused where your bodies meet, helpless to stop himself as he sinks into your pussy, "condom...forgot..." 

A part of you should be worried about it. There's no way that you'll be able to go inside and clean up, and lord only knows how long it'll take to get to his apartment. Yet your eager legs are wrapping around him before he can think twice about it, drawing him deeper. 

"That's okay," you pant, don't particularly mind the idea of feeling him spasm and fill you up again. It's been so long that you can't remember the last time it happened. 

Six weeks without him was far too long. This is what you've been missing. The heavy drag of him inside you, curved in such a way that he rubs into the nerves hidden there, kissing them on his way past. A dull ache grows as he stretches you open, so damn thick that you ought to win an award for taking him to the base. 

Miles wavers, forearms shivering as he fights to keep himself upright. A weak leaf shaking in the wind, breaking the moment you pull him in, collapsing into you with a loud, echoing whimper. He's already bottoming out, the soft material of his pants flush against your ass. There goes every bit of rationality you have left. 

"You can move," you're speaking clearly. At least, you think you are, but your favorite coyote doesn't seem to hear you. Soft nose bumping into the side of your neck, a little too comfortable there. "Miles."  Nothing.

Your hand slips down to smack his ass. 

He grunts. Jolting into you. Whether or not he heard what you said is anyone's guess, but he's starting to move. Peeling his soft, warm body backward, cock withdrawing. For a moment, you can breathe. Blessed with a moment of sanity before he sinks back in, gingerly nudging the air from your lungs.

"Is that..." his warm cheek brushes against yours. Always has to be so close, "Is that okay?" The swell of his ass pushes into your hand; you can't help but grab a handful of it.

"More than okay," it's difficult to recognize this tone of your voice, so airy that it might as well have been whispered by the wind. 

You don't understand how something simple can feel so good. The gentle roll of his hips are so fluid that his thrusts almost feel smooth. No harsh smack of skin on skin or jostling meetings of your bodies, the curve of his cock rubbing into every nerve it can find. Has your cunt so wet around him that you can hear it. Sickening squelches too damn out of place for such delicate movements. 

Lips ghost across the side of your jaw, peppered by the faint whimpers that slip from Miles's throat, fussy in that stereotypical coyote fashion. It does nothing to change what you're feeling, yet you're pulsing around him, set off by those sweet little noises. 

"You look so beautiful underneath me," he mewls against the corner of your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you with a familiar glimmer. Only he can look at you like that. Not anyone you've ever crossed paths with. And certainly not the man you were meant to marry come sunrise. 

Your legs are squeezing tighter around him, drawing his warm frame impossibly close, as if he could slip away from you at any given moment. Best of all, he lets you. Situating his forearms to rest on either side of your head, chests snug against each other, leaning up just enough to keep looking into your eyes. One of those big hands curls around your cheek, cradling it like glass. 

His angle shifts, driving up into those little nerves so hard that your legs twitch, body jerking on its own accord. Must be a mutual thing because it has you gasping against each other's lips, quiet whines dancing through the dark car and out into the parking lot, washed away by the pouring rain. 

"I can't get enough of you," Miles croaks, a little waver in his tone. All of a sudden, his eyes squeeze shut. Brows knitting together with a pained noise. 

"Miles?" The haze is dissipating, your careful hands rising to cradle his head.  "Are you okay?" 

For a moment, he doesn't move.  

"Uhuh," shallowly nodding, like that little motion even manages to hurt him, "I pulled a muscle in my back the other day, 's all." But then his body twitches forward, driving his cock back into you, and his face twists again.

You're only got one solution on deck.

Despite the overwhelming sense of emptiness you're left with when Miles pulls out of you, sitting up is easy. He doesn't need any help falling into the seat, legs a smidgen too long to sit back here, his knees digging into the backside of the passenger seat. And you're fortunate that the ceiling in this car is rather high because sitting on his lap puts you up much higher than you expected.

His hand disappears between your thighs, carefully taking hold of himself and guiding the tip back to nudge at your cunt. Ugh, it's perfect. The aching stretch of taking him once more, how he manages to still find those niche little spots that toys always seem to miss. So good that your jaw is slack before you've even taken all of him.

"Better?" You're already breathless, arms lazily coming to rest around his shoulders. 

He's not doing much better than you are, head leaned back against the cushion, peering back at you with such an unfocused gaze that you reckon he might be on another planet. "Uhuh." But his hands rise to squeeze the sides of your hips, hanging on as you rise up.

You're gonna be in so much trouble if one of your wedding guests walks outside and catches a glimpse of your silhouette rising and falling. Never in their wildest dreams would they suspect that you're getting fucked by the coyote from the front desk. Your dripping pussy clenching around him like a vice, so wet that he almost slips out of you entirely.

"Fuck," hissing, your nails biting into the back of his pale neck, "Miles."

You were trying to go slow, but you can hardly control your own body, rhythm dissolving before you can even get it established—short, jerky movements, so frenzied that you can feel the vehicle sway with it. Mouths clash. Teeth knocking together. Miles and his pitchy whimpers damn near eat you alive. 

"This is so bad," he's panting like a dog, cheeks flushed so red that you can see it through the neon glow. "So bad..."

Beneath you, his hips jerk upward, meeting you halfway. By the sound of it, he surprises both of you, crying out so sharply that you reckon the whole damn hotel heard it. You can't even find it in yourself to worry about getting caught. Not when he's twitching inside of you, hitting right where you crave him most.

 "Feels good, feels good, oh my god," tears welling up in his eyes, already threatening to creep past his waterline, "fuck."  Whimpering in the pitchiest little tone you've ever heard out of him. 

He's so perfect. You think you could die happy right here and now.

It's so distracting that you don't realize what he's doing until his rough thumb is bumping against your clit. His pressure wavers, light as a feather one moment and then directly rubbing into it the next, struggling to keep up with your frenzied pace. But it's...it's...

"Miles, keep—" begging like your life depends on it. Punctuated by the lewd slap of skin on skin. "Keep doing that."

Those tears spill over his cheeks, a hiccup bubbling out of him, unraveling right in front of you. His legs squirm behind you, knees knocking together, can't stay still to save his life. 

"Oh god, oh god," he's babbling. Head lolling back and forth like it's too heavy for him to keep up, yet his watery eyes remain on you, never once glancing away.

It's so much. You don't—you don't know how you're keeping it together. An ache blooming in the muscle of your thighs, knees digging uncomfortably into the crook of the seat. You're certain it'll leave a visible mark on them, but you can't stop. Hopelessly chasing the kiss of his cock head against your nerves and the drag of his length inside of you.  

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." you know what he's trying to say; you're feeling it too. He stiffens, fighting to speak. "Baby, I'm gonna cum in you if you don't stop—"

"Cum in me, Miles," cutting him off entirely. Too damn impatient to keep quiet. Not when you can already feel a burning coil in your lower belly, winding tighter and tighter. 

Those pretty blue eyes roll into the back of his head without further warning. Back arching, hips lifting off the seat, lips parted with a silent cry. The thumb on your clit spasms in tune with his cock, pulsing deep inside, flooding your pussy with his cum. 

But you're not there yet. Trapped on a frustrating edge that you can't seem to fall over. Clenching so tight around him that you can already feel his cum spilling out and onto his pants, making a horrible mess that you don't have the means to clean. Your dominant hand drops down, knocking his out of the way, fingertips finding your clit.

All of a sudden, Miles is alive. His whole body jerks. Squirming back and forth. Whimpering.  Whining. Feet kicking at the floorboard. It's too much for him, you know it is, but this isn't his first rodeo, and he's not telling you to stop. 

"Feels too good, feels—" his hands clamp over his own mouth, one over top of the other, and even that hardly works. 

"No," pawing at his wrists with your other hand, half-hearted, but the intent is still there. "I wanna hear you." 

And he does. Arms hesitantly falling. Grabbing at the seats like he doesn't trust himself to not do it again. His head tilts back, a flurry of short, pitchy noises falling from his parted lips. Moaning like a cheap whore. Oversensitive. So damn eager to let you use him. Uncaring of who may overhear or what goes on outside this tiny car.

Heat rushes through you, skin prickling with a familiar tension. There's a tremor in your thighs that wasn't there before, cunt fluttering around him, muscles set alight. The coil in your lower belly winding tighter and tighter until you can't fucking breathe. 

"C-cum," Miles stammers through a hiccup, blinking up at you, "cum on my cock, please." 

And you do. Freezing without an ounce of warning, the car seeming to spin on its own as your orgasm finally, finally washes over you. It's as if you've been sucked out the window and up into the storm clouds above, absolutely fucking weightless as you cum around his cock. Every little twitch has him bumping into those abused spots, so exhausted that the only thing they can do is send a tingle through your thighs.

It takes you a good minute to realize why your forehead is so warm all of a sudden. 

"I think..." Miles only starts talking when you lift your face from the crook of his shoulder, leaning back to get a look at him, "I think you almost killed me." But he accepts your kiss without complaint, humming into it with a grin.

"I can take you for another round if that's what you want," teasing, just to get a reaction out of him. You don't know if you could go again, even if you wanted to.

His head shakes back and forth, tear-stained cheeks glistening in the light. "Nuh-uh," interrupted by a giggle, "doll, you wear me out anymore, 'n I'll be asleep before you're even finished with me."

Your noses unintentionally bump into each other, a little too close. Miles shakes his head once more, rubbing them together.

"You still certain you wanna run with me?" He murmurs after a moment. There's a softness in his eye that suggests he wouldn't hold it against you if you were to turn and go back into your hotel room. Accept an incompatible partner in exchange for certain financial stability and status. 

Someone who doesn't bury his head under your shirt and listen to your heartbeat when the hotel down the road sets off fireworks. Who won't wake you in the middle of the night, shivering over a dream that he never wants to describe. 

Miles doesn't have all that much to offer. You know it. He knows it. But just looking at him has made you happier than anyone else ever has, flaws and all. Lord knows he wasn't lying when he promised to love you until you couldn't stand it because he already does.

You couldn't ask for anything more.

"For you?" Whispering against his lips, a secret to be shared just between the two of you. "Always."

For eleven months, nobody knows what happened to you. 

A newspaper calls you an altar runaway but doesn't quite blame you for doing it, either. Photographs of you litter the streets of your hometown and the little city that the El Royale is considered a part of, but you're a long way from there. Settled down in an adorable apartment, working a job where no one recognizes you. 

You're beginning to think that this is what bliss feels like. Miles and his warm arms, endearing coyote quirks, and sudden bursts of energy that leave you two giggling on the couch or venturing into a diner in a faraway town, just for the hell of it. He breaks apart on some days, but his promise never loses its shimmer, undamaged, regardless of it all.

The author of that article claims she spotted you walking out of a grocery store, hand in hand with a man who smelled like a coyote, with a dainty little ring around your finger. Nobody believes her when she reports it on the front page, and that's okay because it's your own little secret.

It's no one's business where this ring came from, how Miles painstakingly saved and designed it at a jewelry shop down the road, whittled a ring box with his own two hands. Whether or not it's a wedding or a promise ring is anyone's guess; you've no plans to tell. 

"Honey," Miles whines, feet audibly padding into the room. You've hardly got the energy to lift your head. "You gotta quit leavin' your purse on the counter."

Wary, you pry one eye open. "Did you spill water on it again?"

"Might've," and you suppose that's why you can hear the fan running in the dead of winter. 

The bed dips as Miles slips under the covers, bare legs tangling with yours before he can even get settled. One of these days, it will get cold enough to convince him to wear more than just an oversized t-shirt to bed, but today isn't that day. Hell, it may never come because he's long since figured out that he can nuzzle up and steal the heat off of you instead.

 You don't need to look to know that he's beckoning you in; that fussy little whine of his tells it all. Coyotes. Talkative even when they're not using their words. Snuggle bugs, too. Miles already has his head nestled on top of yours, and you're not even finished getting situated. 

"I love you," he whispers, those three little words far too delicate to be said any louder.

"I know," giggling. He told you while you were brushing your teeth just a few minutes ago, can never seem to quit saying it. "I love you too."

This bed is comfortable, but it'll never match the warmth that his arms bring. 

[bubuslutty]

Wolf in sheep’s clothing

Pairing: werewolf!fem reader x werewolf!john price

word count: 715

Tags: werewolf au, smut, m masturbation, cum marking poc friendly, no use of y/n, 3rd person pov, proof read by me

Warnings: minors do not interact!

Summary: John jerks off right in his lamb’s underwear, and she spends the rest of her day with her underwear stained by him.

a/n: this is nasty and i have no excuses. Stop looking at me.

Price’s the alpha of their pack, carrying out many responsibilities on his shoulders and pack. So, it’s not unusual to see him frustrated or agitated under the pressure once in a while. He will somehow grow bigger in size, his back hunching, his shoulders getting closer to his ears and his breathing picking up, gums aching under his fangs.

He’s a force to be reckoned with, especially when he’s really pissed.

And few things can tame the beast trapped in his ribcage, gnawing at him from the inside out, trying to howl, growl and rip apart the flesh of anyone who dares to shake him up.

One of the few things that can manage to knock back the mean beast inside his head, away from the front of his consciousness is his pretty little lamb. She’s a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing, really. She has sharp teeth, and claws to match. And her eyes match the shades of the moon during cursed nights, just like all of her mates, and this includes john price.

She smells him before she even knocks on his office door, reeking frustration and an urge to dig his teeth in warm flesh. But she hasn’t come to sacrifice herself, to offer herself to the beast, to be chewed and spat back out.

Price’s pretty lamb walks around his desk, pretty as stars and the moon, wearing a simple shirt and short skirt over her hips with a pair of socks. She looks cosy, comfortable and smells like home.

He suddenly wants to bite for a whole other reason, not to destroy but to claim and taste. She makes him hungry and he can’t focus on any measly papers spread out in front of him on his desk. His fingers itch to dig themselves into her flesh and for his nose to bury itself in the crook of her neck.

And she doesn’t say anything. She smiles at him, a friendly, loving, innocent smile even. And her fingers reach down to her skirt and lift it up.

Price’s heart jumps up his throat and then down to where his cock is swelling.

Then, with her other hand, she tugs the waistband of her panties away from her skin, and he’s now looking at the curve of her pretty cunt. And she’s looking at him expectantly, gazing at him with stars and sin in her eyes.

She doesn’t have to say anything.

She doesn’t have to ask him anything because Price knows what she wants.

He gulps and stands up, towering over her smaller frame, and wraps one veiny hand around himself. She smiles at him and looks at him like he hung the sun and the moon in the sky with his own hands.

And how can he deny his pretty girl anything?

Price jerks himself furiously over the opening of her panties, wet and filthy, the sounds are the only thing that could be heard in his quiet office, along with his grunts and gasps.

When he cums, his dick jerks and his spend ends up on her lower stomach, the curve of her pussy, catching on the curly hairs and the fabric of her panties, but most of it ends up in the little pocket she made him.

She smells satisfied, his mate smells happy. She smells like she everything John loves and hates at the same time. She smells like wild flowers, rain, and everything that makes him appreciate living, but also like sweet liquor, caffeine and nicotine in one addictive pretty package, slowly killing him.

His lamb and love let go of her panties, the waistband smacking against her perfect skin and there was a filthy wet stain on their front, sticking to her pussy lips. She giggles, stands on her tiptoes and kisses him on the side of his mouth, then on his chin, over his beard.

She fixes her skirt and turns around, skipping out of his office like a dream, like a fae straight out of his darkest dreams.

And John shudders, cock still sticking out of his trousers, heavy, wet and dripping, and realises his lamb is about to spend the rest of her day with her pussy drenched in his cum, in his claim.

John can’t breathe and he loves her so much.

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leigh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @chaoticevilbakugo @Lacunaanonymoused @whore4dilfs

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

✯𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟?✯

Notes: So like... @mjtheartist04's Little Red Riding AU, amiright??? 👀 This is just a little gift for my pookie 😚🫶🏻 gotta say this one's pulling me out of a writers block, so thanks for having such a clever dream, 'Jay!! 🩶❤️🩶

---------

"I don't believe in fairytales, Genya." Rika stated with a mear shrug, her eyes leaving the young innkeeper as she glances back at the picture etched into the aged paper of a wolf, baring its large teeth at a little girl cowering against a tree deep into dark woods. She closes the burgundy leather clad book, setting it back down atop the dark oak front desk that Genya had tapping his finger against, the tapping in sync with his anxious leg bobbing, causing small whines to leave the old floorboards.

He only grunts in response, his jaw taught as he almost seemed to be grinding his teeth behind his tight lips. It wasn't new to Rika about his behavior, but something about it of all nights felt... Off.

"What? Don't believe in the Big, Bad Wolf?" Genya stated - almost genuine, and Rika would have considered it so if it weren't for the slightly raising of his brows that implicated his comment was supposed to be taken with humor.

Rika returned it with a grin splaying across her lips, bringing a hand up to the end of her crimson colored hood, tugging at it like one would tipping a hat, the action causing some of her Prussian hair to fall at her shoulders from where it had been hidden behind the vibrant fabric. "If that were true, I wouldn't have a job, now would I?" She strides across the room, not leaving Genya's train of eyesight - both not daring to break it just yet.

"To say The Big Bad Wolf would be insinuating the folks around this village believe we're dealing with a Werewolf problem which, of course, is ridiculous." Rika says, Genya tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes squitning just a tad, as though he wasn't curious by the theory, but almost offended.

"Even then, the problem is as obvious as finding the difference between water and wine." Rika gives a lopsided grin, leaning a window at the front of the dimly lit inn.

"Sheep and other wildlife disappearing or found mangled is a simple conclusion: it's just a pack of hungry wolves - actual wolves, I mean. And they just need to be relocated or taken care of."

She turns to the window, using two of her fingers to pry open the dark fusia curtains, just enough to take a peek outside and see her horse chewing at a few weeds that had crept from a few floorboards beneath near the stone streets. For some reason, she didn't feel comfortable on the idea of leaving him out there any longer, wanting to get him to a stable soon before the sun had fully set in only a few minutes.

"Look at that moon... It's beautiful tonight." Rika spoke, her voice a little softer now, dual colored eyes trained on the full pale beauty in the night sky, glistening against her iris’s of blue and pink. "Wven in the dark of night, something about their always being a light, even behind murky clouds... It makes you feel safe, doesn't it?"

"Funny." Genya spits bitterly, his voice breathy and muttered - but Rika caught the venom, almost feeling as though it was aimed at her. "It's funny what the moon does to people." He finishes after a second of silence, now seeing he had Rika’s attention.

Genya's execcent tapping against the counter came to a halt as his nail dug into the carvings, making a small squeaking noise at the traction of his nail splintering into it. He pulls away from it, trudging toward where Rika once was, eyes trained on the book, his buckled boots dragging across the floor, making a noise that didn't bring comfort to Rika, her brows furrowing.

"For most, it brings comfort, a feeling of safety," he picked it up, flipping through the pages, his fingers skimming along the assorted jumble of paragraphs and such, matched with pictures and depictions- his dark eyes lingering on a picture of a man, almost in aogny as his body began to morph into a clawed, fanged, yellow-eyed beast.

"For others, it's a curse, an omen, a warning... For people like me." He snaps the book shut with a feirce 'crack!' As the pages collided shut once more- earning a little flinch from Rika, who had now forgotten her attention on the sky outside, and kept her cautious gaze on the man in front of her.

"Genya... You're scaring me." She speaks, her voice faltering ever so slightly to prove that point, but she still kept her ground, finding her hand slowly making its way toward the hilt of her weapon, hidden behind her cloak.

"I know."  Genya bluntly confirms, finally standing to his full height instead of hunched over the table. Something about him made him almost look taller now. "I can hear your panicked breathing."

The statement had already set enough alarm bells off in Rika’s head, enough for her to start backing away from her close friend- which she immediately regretted, cause Genya must've taken it as a challenge, and with each step she took backwards, he took a step forward.

"What good ears you have." Rika would have said it in a sarcastic dry tone if it weren't for the tremor in her voice, keeping her vocals to a mere mumble.

The pit in her stomach grew deeper and steeper with each step, unable to tear her eyes from Genya, almost in fear that if she did, he'd take that chance and jump at her. Hell. She didn't even want to blink. She felt so... Hunted.

"The better to hear your pretty little heart racing with."

In that moment, watching the cautious steps he took, the way his body almost hunched like an animal hiding in bushes and trees, his eyes trained and laser focused, not a sound coming from him other than his voice. He was like an animal stalking.

And she was prey.

"I can see it too. See your heart pounding in your ribcage... I can see it all." His eyes were like empty sockets, nothing but a blazing gold in place of iris’s that put the dim candlelight in the Inn to shame.

"W-what good eyes you have." Again, Rika stated, and with each one, she was beginning to see a side of Genya she knew she wasn't supposed to see. As a matter of fact, one she was supposed to ever find out about.

"The better to gaze at that face of yours morph into fear." Genya explained almost subtly, like it was passing conversation, his voice low and quiet - different from his usual behavior and mannerism. Rika didn't like it. This wasn't Genya. This wasn't her Genya.

It only took one final step before Rika felt the sensation of the wall, and the pit in her stomach formed so large that she was surprised it hadn't swallowed her whole. The beating in her chest started to sound louder, thundering in her ears so hard in almost hurt. The grip on her weapon stayed firm- but that's where it stayed, her body almost frozen with fear and defeat, leaving her unable to draw put and ready herself for the ever coming attack.

And now, finally unable to escape, she watched helplessly as Genya got closer - painfully slow in doing so, as if he was enjoying the sight as she realized she was cornered and unable to run. Not this time.

His lips curled into something sinister, all teeth and no smile, suddenly, pearly white fangs on display, prodding from his dark gums, his jaw tense and causing the muscles along his neck and collarbone to strain.

"W... What big teeth you have." Rika swallowed thickly, her throat feeling suddenly dry, her body both hot and cold as a sweat begins forming on the back of her neck, and a chill slithers up her spine, like daggers drawing into her skin. Her face was hot, and she thanked heaven above it was too dark to see the red shade her skin had began to become.

At this point, Genya is already too close for comfort. His now clawed hands were splayed out at each side of her face, his face far enough Rika begin could examine the new features starting to become apparent under the moonlight still creeping through the sliver of opened curtains... But he was close enough she could hear the low growl emiting from his throat with his slow rise and fall of his chest.

Genya opened his mouth as though to finish this little banter of words between them, but he simply laughs, a low, slow laugh, his head lolling to the side as he brings his face close to the side of her own, his almost manelike hair tickling against her tan skin, causing goosebumps to ripple along her shoulder.

He brings his hand down from where it was perched, his knuckle barely brushing against her cheek, the cold meeting her warmth was enough to even make him shudder. Tugging a long strand of her dark hair from where it was hidden behind her pointed ear, playing with the strand between his fingers.

"Now that you believe it," He starts, his voice gravelly and low, animalistic, something she hadn't heard out of him before. "Tell me something, Rika..." His breath was hot against her ear, making her hiss ever so slightly between her teeth, trying to cock back from the feeling, but only making contact with his other arm, caging her in.

"Are you scared of the Big, Bad Wolf?"

[blooming-violets]

CREATURE LIKE ME || CHAPTER FIVE (part one): YOU'RE IN A CULT

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Story Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

Chapter Five Warnings (spoilers): mild sexual exhibitionism (fondling an exposed breast) in front of an unwilling person, being unknowingly drugged

[link to chapter index]

The familiar scent of pine soothed her worried soul as she stepped through the threshold of her home. 

Their little, brown cabin, with its sturdy fireplace of stacked, gray stones, and pine needle covered roof gave off the illusion of a safe haven. She might be back in her guild’s territory but this was her house. Her home. Here, she could find respite. 

It was quiet as she stood in her cozy living room. Everything was still. By mid day, her mother would have been in the communal kitchen preparing meals for anyone who might want to stop by for a free lunch. Their guild supported their members and made sure no one would ever go hungry. They functioned as a bunch of tiny parts all moving in unison to form a single, powerful behemoth. They worked on the bartering system and the good will of their neighbors. If something was taken, something else would always need to be given. 

Mrs. Harkner, down the road, gave her time to teach the children academics, in return, the children would pick the crops from her garden so her focus could be spent on lesson planning. Mr. Jacobson, at the other end of town, couldn’t aim a gun to save his life, but was an expert in construction and could fix any housing issue that arose. In return, the hunters would make sure he was always provided with fresh game and a well stocked freezer. Eight year old Christopher Lennings would sell freshly made apple juice from the apple tree in his front yard every Saturday morning and all it would cost was the coolest looking rock you could find. Everyone had a job and everyone was taken care of. 

As long as they followed the rules. 

Aylin had formulated a plan during her five mile hike back home. She knew she would have the house to herself at this time. If she could quickly pack her car full of gear, staying out of sight, then she could head back to Peter for the next few days. During that time, she would get every bit of information she could about Kat’s pack. When she finally returned back to the guild, she could trade that information as an apology for not completing her ritual to become a full time hunter. Trading was how their guild functioned. Information could be traded for a lighter sentencing. Sergei would be more focused on taking action against an entire pack than dealing out punishments for her defiance. She could right all the wrongs before the situation got too out of hand. 

It wasn’t a perfect plan but it would have to do.

The old floorboards creaked under foot to alert the only available member of the household to her presence. Her large, sleek black cat lazily rose his head off the sofa to see who dared to disturb his nap. When he caught sight of Aylin, his ears perked up and he gracefully leapt to the floor to greet her by weaving between her legs. He gave a piercing whine, begging for attention. 

“Yes, yes. I missed you, too, Kedi.” Aylin bent down to scoop him into her arms where he proceeded to be carried like a baby up the stairs to her bedroom loft. “Has mom been worried about me? Have you been looking after her?” 

Kedi purred, his golden eyes squinting up at her. It was a rarity to find him inside their cabin. He preferred to be out hunting for his next meal or clawing his way up the highest tree. Finding him willingly behind walls meant that he knew something was wrong. He had probably spent the night curled up next to Nesrin. Sometimes Aylin swore that he was actually a person trapped inside the body of a cat. She imagined him to be a grumpy, old man who would yell at innocent children to get off his lawn but secretly loved the attention they gave him. He was fearless, tenacious, and a ferocious serial killer of all rodents. 

A family of killers. Is that all they were?

Peter’s words from this morning still buzzed around her thoughts like an annoying gnat that refused to leave her personal space. 

“We’re not in a cult, right? I’d know if I was in a cult,” she mused down at the cat in her arms. 

He responded with a deep, guttural purr that vibrated his entire body. 

“Sergei isn’t Jim Jones or Charles Manson. He has a reason behind what we’re doing. There’s a purpose. A meaning. We’re helping people. We’re…” She paused and gave a long sigh. “My father wouldn’t have been best friends with a cult leader. He was smarter than that. He was a good man. Peter’s wrong. He doesn’t know us, does he, Keds? He’s a stupid, low life, pathetic, disgusting werewolf. He’s-” 

She stopped to listen to the words falling from her lips. No one was around to hear them and she was still holding deep prejustice for a man who had done nothing but show her kindness and grace despite her attitude. 

Lycans. That’s what Peter referred to himself as. Not a werewolf. A lycan. A person with the ability to shift into a wolf. 

A person. Not a monster.

Good and bad people. That’s what Peter had said. There were always good and bad people regardless where you stood in the world. 

Which one was she? 

Aylin carefully dropped Kedi onto her bed so she could pack a bag, trying to pull her thoughts away from Peter’s grasp and focus them back onto the task at hand. Some extra clothes, camping supplies, her crossbow, and more food would be on her list of needed items. She quickly changed out of her dress and into something more practical for forest living. She began tossing clothes out of her drawer and into the waiting duffle bag. As she turned around to pack them more neatly, she stopped to see Kedi curled up under the growing pile. 

“You’re not helping, Ked. You’ll suffocate under there if I zip it up,” she smiled softly down at the stubborn cat who merely squinted back at her. He was always able to lift her mood. “Okay fine, you can stay but I’m going to keep packing around you.” 

She grabbed an unopened pack of spare toothbrushes and ripped it apart. Carefully, she glanced over the colors, selecting a red and blue striped one for Peter. She felt like he would suit those colors…and he really needed to brush his teeth. It had probably been a while since he had a toothbrush of his own. 

With some basic grooming items taken care of and a duffle full of spare clothes, Aylin shooed Kedi out of the way to finish her getaway bag. He followed as she made a handful of trips from the house to her car, filling the trunk with everything her and Peter might need to survive for the next few days. She slammed the full trunk closed, tucking her keys into her pocket, and put her hands on her hips. A sense of determination settled over her. 

“There! We have a camping stove, some canned food, extra water…I think we should be all set for a couple days,” she spoke down to the cat waiting patiently at her feet. “If you would like to come with me, Keds, I would be more than happy to bring you. I don’t think Peter would mind the extra company.” 

Kedi’s fur raised along his back, his ears flattening, and he gave a long hiss before darting to the safety of the darkness under her car. 

“Wha- he’s not that bad, jeeze,” she frowned at his sudden change of attitude, wondering what had set him off, when she heard the crunching of footsteps making their way up her dirt driveway. 

“Going somewhere, Aylin?” The familiar baritone voice caused her skin to erupt in goosebumps. Her heart leapt into her throat as a wave of nausea overtook her. She suddenly felt faint.

She wasn’t fast enough.

The only other time she had seen Kedi display fear like that was when a black bear broke through their screened in porch one afternoon to try and grab a bite of his cat food. Even then, he had darted back out from under the safety of a chair to claw the bear across the snout before running away again. Today, he stayed hidden. 

Aylin straightened her back, attempting to fix a warm smile onto her lips, and turned around to face Sergei standing in the middle of her driveway. He was dawning his signature werewolf pelt draped over his shoulders and giving her a grin that was stretched far too thin to be anything but forced. The sight of the pelt made her sick to her stomach when she thought about the person who it once was ripped from. Barbaric. He might as well be wearing a pelt of human flesh.

Where was she going? She tried to steady her fluttering heart as a million potential answers swirled around her panicked thoughts. 

“I’m planning on going to the Catskills to hike along the Devil’s Path like I do every year,” she lied, thinking quickly. With the way her trunk was currently packed, it easily resembled a hiking trip. She could fake this scenario. 

“Isn’t it a little early for that?” He raised his scraggly brow at her. He was starting to get flecks of silver among his dark hair. The silver stood out more prominently against the midday sun and made him look closer than usual to his age. It was rare to catch signs of him aging. He seemed to always be in his prime despite how many years have passed. “Don’t you typically do that hike closer to the summer?” 

Aylin shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “Last summer was too hot. Thought I’d go early this year.” 

“In the rainy season, I imagine parts of the hike would be really dangerous?”

She held firmly onto her bluff, knowing he was trying to break her, and kept her eyes locked with his to help sell the lie, “Sure, but isn’t that part of our training? To overcome difficult feats despite the challenges that face us? Besides, it’s not called the Devil’s Path for nothing. It’s meant to keep you on your toes. I think I could use a good challenge. ” 

Sergei squinted at her with a hard glare, “Yes. About that. I think we need to have a talk about exactly what challenges are facing you. Something seemed to bother you the other night, did it not?” 

She could tell from his tone that he was carefully keeping his voice steady. Under the surface, he was boiling. He wanted her to pay for the other night. There had to be consequences. Aylin had not only gone against his direct orders but, in her defiance, belittled his authority in front of the guild. If there’s one thing to never do to Sergei, it would be to embarrass him. She was now caught in an unwanted game of cat and mouse and she was terrified of losing. 

She widened her eyes like it was a shock to hear that and not a conversation she had been dreading, “Oh? You mean when I ran from the ceremony? I’m so sorry about that. Really. I must have eaten something weird. Probably undercooked meat. I got really sick. I spent the night on the toilet. I had to run before I had an accident in front of everyone. You know how it is. When you gotta go, you gotta go.” 

He took a step closer, a dreadful smile flicked at the corner of his lips, “Really? I stopped by your house to check on you later that night. I wanted to make sure you were okay after that shameful display you pulled in front of everyone. Your mother told me you weren’t home. Poor woman was worried sick about you. She thought you might have run off and done something stupid.” He paused, closing the gap between them. The cold metal of her car door pushed against her back as he towered over her. He propped an arm against the roof of her car to pin her in place. “Well? Did you? Do something stupid, I mean.” 

Her stomach flipped with nerves as she shook her head. She was going to lose this game. The cat was ready to pounce and she had nowhere to hide, caught in place, forced to face her demise. Sergei went in for the kill, sensing he was gaining the upper hand in their silent standoff, and threw a heavy arm around her shoulders. He had her locked tightly in place against his side and gave a loud, dark laugh as if that would expel the thick tension between them. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t hide. He had her exactly where he wanted. 

“Why don’t you come take a walk with me, Aylin?” He started to drag her down the driveway. “Cal made rabbit stew earlier. We can have some tea and lunch and discuss our futures. I have a proposition for you. What do you say, kid?” 

Despite his question, there was no choice to be had. She was going to be coming with him even if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her there. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s okay. I should go leave a note for my mom so she knows where I’m at when she gets back…” Aylin tried to dig her heels into the dirt but got shuffled along like she weighed nothing. Any resistance would be futile. She had lost the game. The cat had caught the mouse and was now boastfully parading her squirming body down the road as he carried it proudly between his salivating jaws. 

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll inform her exactly where you are should she come asking. There’s nothin’ to worry about. You’re safe with me. You know that.” The weight of his words hung over her like a rapidly approaching storm. There wasn’t a single ounce of truth behind anything he said. 

It was only a matter of time before the cat clamped down, piercing her flesh with his razor sharp teeth. 

The Kravinoff residence was the largest house in their town. A two story cabin with breathtaking floor to ceiling windows to let in all the natural light. The eaves of the red gabled roof were decorated with ornate wooden details. They had been handcarved by Sergei Sr. when he rebuilt the Kravinoff home many years ago before his passing; his final gift to his spoiled son.

Their kitchen was larger than the floor plan of her entire house with brightly painted, red cabinets to match the color of their roof. A pot of yellow sunflowers brightened up the room to soften the red and create an inviting atmosphere. Calypso lounged against the double wide, walnut island wearing nothing more than a skimpy, silk robe. Her dark, tight curly hair haloed around her head and she flashed Aylin her infamous, pointy toothed grin. 

“Ah, the weakling has returned, I see,” she slinked over to the younger woman, standing tall in front of her. “Such a disappointment you gave the guild last night, was it not? I don’t know why Sergei holds you in such high regards. You don’t look like much to me.” 

Sergei placed a possessive hand over Aylin’s shoulder, “Now, now, Cal. Enough teasing. Everyone makes mistakes. She says she wasn’t feeling well. Ate some bad meat. Happens to the best of us. Aylin is our guest and should be treated as such. She’s here for a chat over drinks. Why don’t you make us some of your special tea?” His eyes flashed into his wife, giving her a silent command. “The kind we save for our very important guests. Aylin needs to be reminded how much her community values her.” 

Calypso smiled and bowed her head, “Of course, dear.” 

Aylin was led into the dining room with the sounds of Calypso rustling through the cabinets following her out the door. A long, black cherry dining table, lined with tall chairs, greeted them. At the head of the table was a throne, carved out of the trunk of a tree and adorned with giant wolf claws at the end of the legs. Kraven sank down onto the pelt covered seat. He looked like a true king of his castle. He waved a large hand for her to sit in one of the normal chairs beside him. 

She took a hesitant seat, having stayed quiet this whole time, terrified that speaking the wrong words would get her further into trouble. It was better to play defense with Sergei. Let him take the lead so she could match his energy. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in our home,” he mused, lazily scratching at his beard. “You used to visit all the time with your father. I believe the last time you stepped foot inside these walls was when you were merely 16 years of age.” 

After Samuel and Emir’s funeral. 

Sergei had held a repast at his home after the burial service. Everyone in town had attended, each bringing a dish of food or drinks, to show their support for the fallen members. Nesrin was too busy weeping in the bathroom to know her daughter was getting wasted off some stolen liquor. Aylin had snuck away from the guests with her bottle in hand to hide in one of Segei’s guest rooms. The rest of the night was a blur but she distantly remembered him finding her tucked away in the corner behind a bed and holding her while she cried. Everything after that was dark. That entire year had been dark. 

She remembered a time when she felt protected in his arms. His presence used to come with a warm safety. Now, it came with a foreboding sense of danger, like stumbling upon a sleeping rattlesnake. If she was careful enough, she might get away without a fight. If she took one wrong step, all it would take was a mere second for the snake to strike. 

“Things got bad after-” She stopped. She didn’t need to say anything else. 

Sergei gave a solemn nod, “Yes. I can imagine. Sam was my good friend. He was an important, valuable member of our guild. It was hard for everyone.” 

He was studying her face, trying to read every micro expression she held, but she kept her features stiff. She should have left sooner. Maybe if she hadn't spent so much time doting on Kedi, she would have escaped before Sergei arrived. She wished she was already back with Peter and wondered how long he would stay in her trailer before he started to wonder if she’d ever return. 

“Who’s Peter?” Sergei asked with an air of innocence, as if he had directly read her mind, but kept a close eye on how she responded. He was carefully studying her every move. 

Aylin’s eyes widened in shock for only a split second before she softened her face but there was no doubt that Sergei had caught it. Had he read her mind? There was no other way he could possibly know about Peter…was there? Her stomach churned with nerves at the question but she raised her eyebrows in feigned confusion, “What do you mean?” 

He shifted on his throne, leaning towards her, and placing his arm on the table, “When I came to pick you up, I heard you say ‘I don’t think Peter would mind the extra company.’ So, who’s Peter?”

That’s what she got for speaking out loud to a cat. She should have kept her mouth shut. 

“He’s my friend,” she lied, thinking on her feet. “Works at the gas station a few miles out. He works nights. I’ve met him a few times and we got to talking. He enjoys hiking as much as me. He was planning a trip of his own so I invited him on mine. I thought we could both use the company.” 

“Is he your boyfriend?” Sergei’s tone was light but his tense shoulders gave off the impression of a possessive, jealous lover. Aylin was beginning to see him as an overgrown child who refused to share his toys with others. She felt like she was nothing more than his property. 

She repressed a gulp, refusing to let her eyes wander from his, “No. He’s a friend.” 

He ignored her statement. “After Leah Rivera, I thought you might not be not interested in men. It’s good to know you appreciate both sides,” Sergei leaned back to give off the illusion of someone who was casually lounging instead of someone fishing for information. They were both playing a difficult game of chess, each crafting their next move, while simultaneously trying to find their opponents weakness to exploit.  “Cal swings both ways, too.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just someone who enjoys hiking as much as me,” Aylin’s jaw tightened, giving him a stiff reply. She desperately hoped the heat burning behind her cheeks wasn’t outwardly noticeable. Her racing heart spiked at the mention of Leah. That was a name she hadn’t heard spoken aloud in years. “I don’t swing any way. Leah was nothing more than a friend, too.” 

Liar. Leah was more than a friend. She was Aylin’s childhood best friend, her favorite person, her first crush, her first love. Leah used to be her everything. 

Until she was nothing. 

“Right, right,” he chuckled. “Cal and I were just friends once. I get it. But, Aylin, you know how this guild feels about outsiders. You can not trust them. It’s best you let that friendship drift away before it’s too late. I don’t want you going on a trip with that boy. It’s too dangerous. Cancel it. Stop seeing him. There’s more than enough eligible men here for you to attach yourself to. I can think of at least three off the top of my head who would love a chance. Stay within the guild.” 

She had tried to stay within the guild until Sergei caught on about her and Leah’s relationship. She remembered his eyes flaring with hatred when he saw them share a quick kiss behind the school house one afternoon. Neither of the girls could understand why he would care what a couple of sixteen year olds got up to. It wasn’t long after that Leah’s entire family disappeared in the middle of the night. One day they were there, the next they were gone. Banished. No explanations given. No goodbyes said. Their empty house was demolished, as per tradition, whenever someone leaves the guild. Erase everything and build back up from scratch without the tainted memories. They were to never speak about the Rivera’s again. Every ounce of Leah’s existence in Aylin’s life was gone overnight until it was almost as if she never existed at all. If it wasn’t for the pictures hidden in a shoebox in the back of her closet, sometime’s Aylin might wonder if she dreamed up the entire thing. First, her best friend disappeared, then, her father and brother were slaughtered by wolves. Sixteen had not been kind to her. 

But that was years ago. Leah was gone and so was the person Aylin used to be. She didn’t want Peter to become another pained memory added to the ever growing pile of forgotten people. She would protect this one. She wouldn’t let him be another soul for Sergei to steal from her. 

Even if that made her a traitor. 

She fixed a pleasant smile onto her face, “You’re probably right. I don’t know him that well anyway. I was just looking for a hiking buddy. Not a big deal and I’d better be safe than sorry. You never really know what those outsiders are like. Although, I do think I would be able to overtake him if it ever came to that. I’ve taken down werewolves. I think I can manage to get the upper hand on a random gas station employee. You’ve trained us well.” She threw Sergie her best attempt at a cheeky wink despite the anxious tightening of her throat. Her desperation for him to believe her was suffocating. 

Outsiders. Traitors. Banishment. 

Maybe Peter was right. She might be in a cult. 

The truth hit her hard. She forced a smile onto her face despite wanting to slide under the table and crawl away. 

Canceling fake plans with an imaginary boyfriend was easier than the truth of her deception. Outsider Peter was better than Werewolf Peter. One was a simple mistake at the hands of a lovestruck young woman. The other was direct treason against everything she ever knew. 

He didn’t look impressed with her response.

Earthy, herbal smells wafted out from the kitchen door. She caught notes of lavender and chamomile mixed with some kind of sharp spice she was unfamiliar with. Sergei noticed her analyzing the scent. 

“It’s not something we grow here in the mountains,” he remarked, blatantly ignoring her attempts to butter him up. “Calypso has family in Haiti. They send her all sorts of home grown products she can’t get here. She likes to think of herself as a bit of an alchemist when she’s in the kitchen. She makes the most wonderful tea. You’ll love it.”

As if on cue, Calypso burst through the doorway with a tray in hand. A clear teapot was placed on the table in front of them. Bits of loose herbs floated around inside the amber liquid. Skinny, swirling trails of hypnotizing white steam rose from the spout. She lifted the pot to pour out the delicious smelling tea into the delicate china cups. Aylin was handed the first one. 

“For our guest,” Calypso smirked. “Made with love.” 

Aylin ignored the snarky edge to her words and gave a polite smile. She took a small sip, happy for the distraction. It burned her tongue but slid smoothly down her throat. It was like nothing she’d ever had before. Warm and cozy with a sharp tang of spice as a lingering aftertaste. She took another big gulp as it gave her something to do with her fidgety hands. 

Calypso perched on the thick arm of Sergei’s throne as she watched her guest drink, “How is it?” 

“It’s wonderful. Thank you,” she feigned a smile. She wasn’t lying. It was delicious. She just struggled to make her voice sound genuine when her and Peter’s lives hung on her every word. 

“Pleased to hear it.” 

Sergei patted his wife’s thigh, “Aylin was just telling me about her gas station boyfriend. An outsider. They’re already planning a trip together.” 

Calypso leaned against him, running her fingers through his hair, “A gas station boyfriend? Even she can do better than that.” 

“He’s not my bo-” She was cut off by Sergei. 

“I already told her that it would be best to let that relationship fade away. I think we could find her someone better. One of us. I would be doing Sam a disservice if I let his daughter run away with an outsider.” 

Aylin bit her tongue and refused to mention that her mother was once an outsider. The longer they stayed on the topic of her lie, the more anxious she became. She didn’t want to have to keep thinking on her feet. It was exhausting her psyche. 

“I said I would. It’s not a big deal,” she huffed, taking another sip of her tea. “He means nothing to me. I just thought it might be fun to have someone to hike with but I prefer being on my own anyway.” 

Calypso smirked, “That’s what I like to hear. Outsiders are nothing. They don’t deserve your time of day. You have everything you need right here.” She shifted her body to lean forward, her deep brown eyes penetrating into Aylin’s very soul. “We’re all you need.” 

She was most definitely in a cult. How could she have ever been so oblivious? 

She might be the stupidest person alive. 

This would be her downfall. The people she loved and fought to protect were the one’s holding the knife. They would be the ones to fatally stab her. Not the Lycans. 

Before the realization could overtake her, Calypso’s loose robe had fallen open when she moved and her right breast had pushed its way out from the silky material. The sight of the woman’s freshly exposed skin caused her spiraling mind to halt. Sergei’s arm wrapped around his wife to grasp onto her breast, absentmindedly flicking her dark nipple with his thumb, as they both stared in her direction. Aylin’s ears heated up with a mixture of disbelief and horrific embarrassment. She quickly averted her gaze to the table. She got uncomfortable watching people kiss in public. Watching someone blatantly fondle his wife in front of her made her want to claw out of her own skin. They had always been overly affectionate with each other but it had never been as in her face as it was now. This was different. New. It was like they were challenging her. Like this was some kind of sick test she’d have to pass. From the moment Sergei showed up behind her, she was being tested. Her every move was stuck under a microscope and picked apart with a watchful eye. 

These were not the people she once thought they were.  

A new found hatred wrapped around her like a warm blanket. They were toying with her. Teasing her. Playing with her. They were getting off on watching her squirm. They liked this. 

This was who they really were. 

Aylin focused on her tea to keep herself distracted. She heard Calypso stifle a laugh under her breath. They were getting off on her discomfort. Her head was starting to feel dizzy and her heart felt like it was pounding in her ears. She suddenly felt very sweaty like there was a fire igniting in her stomach and spreading up her chest towards her throat. She hated them. That much was clear to her now. The guild was not a safe place. It never was. It had only felt that way because she was drinking the Kool Aid along with everyone else just like Peter said. Her whole life she had been fed a lie which she happily lapped down. Her world was crumbling down around her. Piece by piece it fell with deafening crashes and she was beginning to suffocate on the smokey rubble filling her lungs. 

A headache was rapidly growing and her vision blurred for a millisecond before she blinked it back into focus. 

“Ms. Aylin was just about to tell me what happened last night,” Sergei spoke, still massaging Calypso without any hint of embarrassment. His tone had flipped, losing the fake lightheartedness from earlier. He was serious. There was no more time for games. “She was going to explain exactly why she refused to kill a wolf in front of her entire guild.” 

She was?

“For someone who claims to have killed two on her own, without any proof, you’d think a malnourished, caged bitch would be easy,” Calypso remarked. “It sounds to me like there might be a little white lie hiding somewhere in your story, dear girl. Don’t worry, darling, you can tell us. We won’t judge. We just want the truth.”  

She took another sip of the tea to avoid having to answer them right away. Was she the only one drinking? Neither of them had touched the stuff. 

Aylin didn’t want to look in their direction to check. She didn't want to watch what they were doing. They were making her uncomfortable on purpose. A power play. A way to prove that she was nothing but inferior to them. She didn’t want to be here. Her head felt like it was swimming with a million thoughts but none of them were making it to her lips. Her body was refusing to function. She couldn’t make her mouth and brain work as one. 

“I, uh,” she stuttered over her words. “I…” 

Her mind was starting to feel like it was slowly filling with sand. An hourglass at the verge of tipping. Her mouth felt dry so she downed the rest of her cup. 

“That girl- she…she…was just…so…so young…” Aylin gave a slow blink, her chin bobbing down to her chest before quickly steadying her head back upright. “I…feel…”

She was suddenly exhausted. The empty tea cup slipped from her hand to shatter into pieces across the floor. She finally turned her attention to the couple, fearing that she was coming down with an illness. She was seeing double. Their forms wavered like rain in a puddle. 

“Something’s not right,” she whispered.

“That would be the tea,” Sergei spoke, his voice steady. “Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll be fine.” 

He pushed himself up from his throne to walk over to her. Aylin slumped into his arms, feeling paralyzed, as he easily lifted her to his chest. He cradled her there while he moved through his house, each room flashing slowly before her lagging eyes, until he stopped in front of a large bookcase. 

“Wha-” she tried to speak but words were useless to her. 

Sergei kicked his foot at something hidden against the side of the bookcase, tucked away from view, where the wall meets the floor. 

With a low grumble, the bookcase slid slowly to the right to reveal a set of wooden steps leading underground. They creaked underfoot as he carried deeper into the abyss. 

The musty smell of mildew and copper hit her nose. 

“No…” Aylin managed to whisper, in a last ditch effort to protect herself before the drugs completely captured her mind. 

“Sleep now,” Calypso purred over Sergei’s shoulder. “We have some important business to discuss. You’ll need your strength. Shh, drift off, little one. We’ll keep watch over you. Sleep.” 

[CHAPTER FIVE (part two)]

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[leonhardt-simp]

Nightmares.

[werewolf au]|Angst & Fluff|Scenario

— werewolf! ymir x f! reader

summary: Sometimes nightmares happen and when they do, you’re glad you have Ymir to come comfort you.

author’s note: Some well needed fluff after not posting for practically a year. Happy that Ymir finally gets a werewolf au fic? :) 🍧

“Fuck!” You whisper-yelled, hiding behind the kitchen counter.

The thuds were loud, hearing the monstrous snarl of a beast that had no place within your home. You were terrified.

Your heart raced in your chest as if searched for you, holding your bloody arm from the wound it managed to land on you. You looked around frantically, trying to desperately look for something that could be of use to defend yourself…

That’s when you heard it again. A loud crash of furniture that slammed into a wall, hearing the wood chips break away and fall to the ground with a loud bang. You closed your eyes tight, starting to hyperventilate from the impeding doom. You felt powerless. You were prey and this predator was hunting you. It could smell your metallic scent from the blood gushing from your arm. Everything sense felt heightening.

Your ears picked up every little sound, every thud and scratch. You could feel how wet your sleeve felt as it clung to your skin from the blood soaking through. It felt like a wet weighted blanket keeping you stuck in place with how it shackled you down to the wooden floors of your once shared kitchen.

Your body shook with anxiety and fear, hand clenching onto your wound as if that would prevent what was going to happen…

And then suddenly, the sounds of nails tapped across the wooden floors stopped. Tension halting for a brief second while you opened your eyes. You took a quick panicked glance from behind the kitchen counter, breath heavily and head light with adrenaline.

With a cautious eye, you took in every detail of the kitchen. It was quiet…

Then you felt your body tense and your heart and stomach drop.

“Grrr…”

The throaty growl and snarl sounded above you, making your head abruptly snap up to meet the beast that stood crawled over the counter. Teeth were bared and bloody, a gauntly beast with eyes of malice and hunger.

Then it attacked. You swore you could feel the hefty weight of the beast and its claws digging into your body. Your eyes widening at the mouth that immediately opened to attack at your face.

…

“Y/N!” Ymir suddenly shook you awake. Your eyes snapped open and you sat up quick, holding your neck and struggling to breathe. You felt a phantom pain there somehow… Your heart racing a million miles per hour.

“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.” Ymir held your face, the warmth of her palms making your nerves seem to try and refocus on the familiarity.

Ymir saw the fear in your eyes, “Baby… Look at me. Focus on me and your breathing.” She instructed. Her thumbs caressed your cheeks and your E/C eyes met with the brown comforting pools of the brunette’s eyes.

Her tone was hushed, sitting up in bed a bit to focus on you and what you needed. She knew you had nightmares from time to time.

They started ever since you started running alongside her. You feared the story of many unfortunate people becoming victim of such hungry beasts. How sometimes people went missing or attacks that were published to the news of “Bear attacks” happening to innocent campers. You knew the truth though. She knew you didn’t fear her but… The others? The ones outside the pack?… Those were ones to fear. A lone wolf was more dangerous than a pack…

and it shook you to the bone to even think of being caught somewhere at the wrong time.

You stared deep at Ymir’s face, taking deep breaths and counting the seconds before Ymir would gently instruct you to release that held breath.

“There we go… Good girl…” Ymir softly spoke, caressing the side of your face again. The touch, now fully processed, made you melt with ease. You held the hand close, nuzzling your face against the palm of it.

Comfort welcomed you into a close embrace, your head resting against Ymir’s chest. “Same dream again…?” Ymir asked, her hand gently stroking through your hair.

You nodded, taking shaky deep breaths to calm your nerves. Your eyes closed and you nuzzled into the freckled wolf’s embrace.

“…I don’t know… Maybe, I’m just being… Paranoid…?” You softly spoke, tone filled with a shaky break. You were both exhausted emotionally and mentally, having dreams like that often took a lot out of you.

Ymir could see that. She knew you too well.

“You have every reason to be cautious, Y/N...” Ymir quietly reassured. You felt a hand gently grab ahold of yours, a quiet caress of Ymir’s thumb making you ease down.

Ymir gently held your hand with her other arm around your shoulders. Instinctively, you laid your head on her chest. The irregular heartbeat providing a sense of relief at the fact that it was all just a dream.

“I wouldn’t let anyone of those stray punks lay a hand on you though...” The mere idea of Ymir even letting a lone wolf get close to you slightly boiled her blood. “Not in a million years.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair and down the back of her neck.

You looked up at her with a softened gaze, your hand soon reaching up to cup the side of her face. Her eyes closed habitually, her face leaning into that touch like a touch-starved puppy.

“I promise… You’re safe.” Her voice was quiet and her eyes opened to look deeply into your own. You knew Ymir. You knew her way too well. She always promised and kept promises… So, hearing her promise this… You calmed down.

“I know…” You softly exhaled. Those shakes were gone and you felt like a weight was lifted. The scary thoughts were put back in their box for now.

The both of you got settled back in a snuggled with your limbs intermingled, your head on her chest with a hand slipped underneath her shirt to feel that comforting warmth. “I love you, Ymir…” You hummed, feeling all those nerves from earlier blow away with the sound of your room fan blowing and the warmth of Ymir’s tanned skin beneath your fingertips.

However, Ymir was already snoring away with her head tilted back on your shared pillows. The little noise shocked you and made you look up at her with a surprised glance, soon letting out a little breathy laugh once you realized.

You couldn’t blame her. Your tossing and turning probably kept her up late with worry. You knew she loved you though. No one else held you close or looked at you with all the love in the world like she did.

With a little kiss to the sleeping girl’s face, you got back into your spot nestled into her side and closed your eyes letting yourself drift away and get that much needed rest.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

not hungry anymore | werewolf!rhett x oc

Summary: Rhett and Tessa, two young pups playing in the fields, quickly realize that it's time to grow up. Their pack is dying, some even say it's cursed, and the only saviors anyone can see...are them. (wc: 4781)

Warnings: made-up werewolf lore (part of the echo universe), violence, blood, injury description, trevor tillerson is a creep, time skip, and a cliffhanger

✎……to round out falltober, the spookiest of all, a werewolf au! i have more of this au planned, so if you would like to see more please let me know!

✎……MAIN MASTERLIST || FALLTOBER MASTERLIST

Tessa chased him through the wide, open fields that made up the Abbott land. Her four pawed feet thumped into the ground, large claws digging into the earth — kicking up dust in the dry season. A laugh echoed in her mind as she banked sharply to the left in her pursuit.

Rhett was faster, though. His big, wolf face turned to look at her over his shoulder as he ran. Dark brown coat covered in blades of grass and dirt stains. Eyes sparkling golden in the fading light. She could hear his returning cackle like her own thoughts as he evaded her.

“Com’on, Tess! Keep up!” he called. 

Her breathing quickened as she tried to pump her legs harder. “M’tryin’! Y’know m’small!”

He just laughed again. His head thrown back as he howled and kept on galloping.

“Oh, m’gonna get you,” Tessa grumbled to herself, knowing that Rhett could hear her in his own mind.

She didn’t feel tired, not yet. That would take hours upon hours of running through the Wyoming fields and wild country men feared to venture into. But she could only go so fast and Rhett was nearly a head taller than her — in both wolf and human form. There was no way she would ever catch him, trailing him like this. So she stopped and skidded to a halt, leaving overturned dirt in her wake. Rhett kept on going. They were running along the edge of the forest that skirted the west pasture. They didn’t usually go here. The east pasture having the creek to roll and splash in, and the north having more dense forest to get lost in. 

A snort escaped her as a plan formed. Tessa trotted into the woods, the shade beneath the pines darkened as the sun tipped under the horizon. But it gave her the perfect cover as she ran west after Rhett. 

“Tess? Where’d you go?” Rhett’s question appeared in her mind. 

She could hear his giant paws stamping in the earth as he turned to look for her. But, she didn’t respond. Kept every thought and word silent as she ran through the trees. 

“Oh, com’on, tha’s not funny,” he said. 

Her lips pulled back in a snarling grin, showing sharp canines and pink gums. Suddenly she saw him, standing out in the open, turning in circles as he searched for her. Ears perked, listening. His head jerked at the sound of her breaking through the brush. There was no time to waste. Tessa charged into a sprint and broke the treeline. Head ducked down and shoulder turned, she slammed into Rhett’s unsuspecting side. He let out a surprised yelp as they tumbled to the ground together.

They rolled once, twice, and then Rhett was flat on his back — Tessa standing triumphant over him. 

“Ha! Pinned ya!” 

He huffed. “Only ‘cause ya scared me.” 

“Still counts,” she replied.

Rhett glared. Then suddenly two paws were kicked into her belly. All the air got knocked out of her lungs as she fell to the side, Rhett quickly rolling over to pin her to the ground. 

“Pinned ya,” he mocked. 

Even in his wolf face, she could see his smirk. Smug and victorious. She knew she would never get out of this the way he did. Rhett was not only bigger but stronger than her too. She had only been able to turn into a wolf for a few months, but still, she had learned tactics in order to get away from enemies even twice or three times her size. She bit his leg. Not hard enough to break skin, just play, but he still yowled and rolled off of her. 

“Ow! Tess, cut it out! Cut it out!” Through his protests, he was laughing. 

He returned her bite with one of his own, nibbling at her side and making her giggle and howl. And they continued to roll around in the long grass, laughing and biting and tussling. A soft, warm breeze blew through the fields. The sleeping sun turned the clouded sky into brilliant shades of pink and purple. Crickets began their chorus and an owl hooted as its hunt began. Two young wolves forgetting the world for a moment. 

“Well, what do we have here?” a new voice asked, their low, whispering voice cold as ice in their minds. 

Rhett and Tessa instantly sat up, dust settling around them as they searched for the source. Their hackles stood on end, the skin beneath cold and tingling despite the heat. It had to be another wolf, the voice wasn’t spoken aloud. And only wolves could talk to each other through their own thoughts. But the source wasn’t hard to find. 

Two larger wolves were approaching them slowly from the west. Each of them with coats a dirty blond and bigger than even Rhett. Nearly fully grown. Their eyes shown bright as stars in the coming darkness, white, devoid of all color. Omegas. Tessa’s heart sank into her stomach, anchored down by a fear garnered from scary stories told around bonfires. 

“Looks like new toys, t’me,” a different voice said, one of the wolves’ lips pulling back in a snarl. 

Rhett and Tessa scrambled to their feet. Tessa huddled close to Rhett’s side, ears pinned to her head as she stared down the approaching wolves. Unable to look at anything else. Out of the corner of her eye, Rhett’s ears remained upright. Pricked for any noise. She wondered if he was forcing them to be that way to appear braver than he was. 

“Tillersons,” Rhett spoke low, hoping only Tessa would be able to hear him. 

But he was wrong. “Tha’s right, kid. You’ve earned y’rself a prize.” 

“What’d he win?” 

“A warning.” One wolf stepped forward, the smaller of the two staying behind, circling the younger wolves with his head hung low. “Gettin’ too close to our land, kids. If we find ya out here again, m’gonna —”

“This ain’t your land,” Rhett spoke up, head swiveling to keep up with the stalking Tillerson wolf. “We c’n be here.”

“Rhett,” Tessa hissed, coming in closer to his side with her tail tucked between her legs — unable to hide the terror flooding her veins.

“By the moon, Billy, get over here!” the circling wolf called to the other, then he looked back with a wicked grin. “We got ourselves the spare son himself.” 

“Who’s the other one?” Billy asked as he stepped closer. 

“Abernathy by that fur.”

Tessa glanced back at her wolf body, at her creamy-white coat now dulled with dust. A trait inherited from her father, passed from Abernathy to Abernathy for generations — distinct to anyone who knew better. Billy got closer, sniffed at Tessa as she cowered into Rhett’s side. She wanted to just turn tail and run. Never look back and never go to the west pasture again. But she wouldn’t dare leave Rhett behind, knowing he would stay and fight if he had to. 

Anything to prove himself. 

“Hey!” Rhett snapped his teeth at Billy’s snout, who backed off with a surprised wail. “Stay away from her!”

The other wolf laughed and jeered. “She’a bit of a soft spot for ya? Huh, Spare?” 

“Quit callin’ me that,” Rhett growled, front paws widening like he was going to pounce. 

“She’s a pretty lil’ thing. Maybe, if ya don’come near our land again, I’won’t jus’take’er for myself.”

Tessa could feel her legs shaking as she backed away from the wolf’s pale hungry gaze. Feeling only slightly comforted when Rhett put himself between them. 

“We’re not on your land,” Rhett answered, low and growling. 

“Close enough!” the wolf shouted, making them both flinch at the harsh sound only in their minds. “Y’re old enough t’turn, y’re old enough t’know our history. Honestly, we should jus’kill ya righ’now. One less Abernathy — one less Abbott to worry about.”

“Trevor,” Billy warned — but it appeared his brother didn’t want to listen. 

“One less thing standin’ in our way of runnin’ Waya Pack.”

Trevor stalked closer. Hackles raised, ears back, teeth bared to show his red gums. The air was dry and hot, the light of day gone. Replaced with the vigilant eye of the moon who seemed content to watch how this played out. Silence fell upon the world as a blanket, even the chirping of crickets had ceased in the presence of the oncoming violence. Tessa’s heart pounded in her chest, she could hear her own blood flowing in her ears, as she stared wide-eyed at the Tillerson wolf ready to kill her. Just for her name. Just for their history she barely understood. 

“Tess, run!”

Rhett swept at Trevor with his great paw. Slashing him across the face with his claws. Trevor yelped, red blood instantly flowing from the cuts and into his snarling face. 

She didn’t have to think twice. Taking off in the opposite direction, she didn’t even look back. Her legs pumped hard with real and present danger at her heels. Her heart raced, dry air like a thousand needles in her lungs. Why didn’t she remember that the Abbott’s west pasture abutted Tillerson land? Why did she let Rhett convince her to come out there in the first place? They both knew better than to go messing with a Tillerson. That werewolf family that wanted them dead. That walked around with no alpha to lead them all because their patriarch didn’t think Rhett’s father was cut out for the job — despite his right as the latest in a long line of Abbott Alphas. Who would stop at nothing to see the Abbott line ended and Waya Pack under their control. 

She didn’t want to look back. She wanted to forget. She wanted to play in the creek and bite at Rhett’s ankles and be a wolf pup. But Tessa did look back. When she heard a whimpering bark echo through the dark behind her. From a voice she knew all too well. Whose pain she felt somewhere deep within her chest.

Rhett was on the ground, covered by a blond mass of fur with a bleeding eye. They rolled around in the grass, much like he and Tessa were only minutes before, but these bites were meant to draw blood. Claws digging in and growls rumbling the very earth. 

“Rhett!” Tessa cried as she turned, fumbling over herself like a fawn on ice to get back and help him.

Even if it hurt. Even if it cost her her life.

How could she go back to being a kid after this?

She roared as her shoulder collided with Trevor, using all her momentum and all her weight to knock him off of Rhett.

“S-Stay back!” she barked, shooting for confident but hitting terrified. “We’re goin’ home. We w-won’t come back here’gain. Please, jus’leave us alone.” 

Rhett groaned on the ground behind her as she backed up over his form, covering him as best she could with her smaller frame. Her limbs shook, her fur stood on end, as Trevor got up and snarled at her. Blood poured from his face, blotching out his right eye in red. Rhett’s blood glistened on his sharp teeth as he bared them at her, stalking closer. 

“Such a pretty lil’thing,” he repeated. 

It made her sob. 

Then, a great and mighty roar echoed in the clearing. Deep and booming, a noise from a crack in the earth. An Alpha’s roar. Tessa instantly bowed her head, forced into humble submission by the call of the Alpha. Instant relief, instant calm. Her Alpha was here. Everything was going to be okay. Even Trevor, an Omega belonging to now pack, could not resist. Curling in on himself as he halted in his tracks.

Not a moment later, Royal Abbott lept over Tessa and Rhett, who still lay on the ground. He growled low in his throat as he landed with a thud, his wolf form as big as a truck. Brown fur spotted with grey glittering in the moonlight. Trevor could do nothing but cower in the face of such power — even though he claimed not to submit to it. 

“Get lost before I rip out y’r throat,” Royal sneered.

Trevor scrambled to his feet and ran off whimpering. Billy followed quickly behind.

As soon as he was gone, Tessa turned to Rhett. She could feel her muscle and bone shifting, fur receding — the wolf retreating back inside her human form. The calm brought on by her Alpha’s presence and the oncoming exhaustion forced her to change. Just as Rhett seemed to have done as he lay there just a boy, twitching and bleeding. 

“Rhett,” she sighed as she dropped to her knees beside him. “Oh god.” 

There were claw marks on his neck and collarbone. An indent of teeth and canines torn through his t-shirt at his side, blood still weeping to the surface. He clutched at his stomach, where the bleeding was the worst, fingers digging in as he tried to make it stop.

“M’gonna be fine, Tess,” he rasped out, his free hand curling around her wrist. “Don’cry.” 

She didn’t even realize she was. But she could feel it now. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks and blurred her vision to vague shapes as she clutched at his torn shirt. Put her hand over the cuts on his neck to somehow make the healing go faster. Imbue him with some of her own power just to make it stop.

She had never seen so much crimson in her life.

“What the hell d’you think y’were doin’?” Royal bellowed suddenly, rounding Rhett’s prone form to stare his youngest pack members down — eyes still burning red even in his human state.

Beyond her control, Tessa felt her mouth open and words begin to fall out, “We-We were just playin’. Horsin’ around. Th-They came outta nowhere.” 

Royal put his hands on his hips. “You cross the fence line?”

“No!” she shouted, tears making her throat burn. “Couldn’t even — see it.” 

“Dad, let off’er,” Rhett croaked, trying to sit up. “We weren’t doin’ nothin’. Swear.”

Royal was silent for a moment. His shoulders heaving and nostrils flaring as he stared down at the two of them. His youngest betas, freshly turned born wolves only fifteen years old. So much to learn. So much they didn’t know. So must he wanted to keep from them just to preserve them as they were when they left the ranch house an hour ago. Laughing together. Playing together. As young pups should.

But now his son lay bleeding. The girl who would follow him anywhere by his side, blood all over her hands and clothes. Fear in both their eyes. In the tremble of their hands. In the way they looked to him for answers he didn’t possess.

They couldn’t go back to being those children now.

“Com’on,” he spoke simply, quietly. 

In a moment, Royal was overcome by his wolf once more. Standing tall and proud before lowering his belly to the ground. Tessa helped Rhett to his feet, then with her arm around his waist — careful of his injury despite it no longer hurting him — she assisted him over to his father. The exhaustion was really starting to set in now. Deep in her bones. Not only from the horror with the Tillersons but merely from the transformation. Girl to wolf and back to girl again. She wouldn’t be able to get back to her wolf form until she was rested even if she tried. 

Rhett climbed up onto his father’s back first. Smearing blood into his fur. Then Tessa followed, settling in front with her fingers tangled in the long coarse hairs.

“Hang on,” Royal’s nearly imperceptible rumble sounded in her thoughts. 

And then they were off at a trot. She squeezed her legs around Royal’s middle, much like she did when she rode her horse. Rhett slumped against her back, hands bracing himself against her thigh and waist. He groaned as they bounced along, forehead coming to rest against her shoulder. 

“They hurt you?” he asked quietly.

The crickets were chirping again. An owl hooted somewhere — mouse in its talons.

“No,” she replied, looking over at his sweaty hair drenched in moonlight. “M’okay.” 

He only grunted in reply. A confirmation. A sound she had heard so many times before but this time it made her smile. A relieved sort of thing as she leaned back against him just a little more. It was a sound she could have never heard again. The thought scared her. Made her blood run cold as she looked back at the west pasture one final time. A line of trees and swaying grass disappearing as they turned north. Never to return. Her Alpha didn’t even have to say it for her to know.

When they arrived back at the Abbott ranch house, her parents were standing outside waiting for her. Her father with his hands on his hips, her mother holding a shawl around her shoulders, hand pressed anxiously to her neck. Rhett’s older brother, Perry, stood on the porch with his mate under his arm. Rebecca, turned by the bite only a year ago, her hand resting on her rounded belly. Rhett was no longer leaning on her as much, hands retreating from her as his strength returned. He didn’t even need help getting down from Royal’s back — sliding off first as soon as his father came to a stop.

Once on solid ground, her parents rushed her. Her mother squeezed up and down her arms, looking all over for any sort of wounds or marks. Her father cupped the back of her head and gently forced her to look up at him. His face was stern but his eyes swam with a fear she had never seen before. 

“M’okay. M’not hurt,” she assured, even as her mother continued to fuss. “S’Rhett that needs tendin’ to.” 

She looked over her mother’s shoulder to her friend as he lowered himself down onto the porch steps with a grimace, clutching his side. It was true that his wounds were already beginning to heal. What would have still been bleeding and most likely killed an average person, was already clotted. But precautions still had to be taken, wounds bandaged and sealed together to help the healing along. 

Tessa’s mother, as Waya Pack’s healer, turned to the young boy. But stopped when Royal growled. 

“In his room, June,” he gruffed out as he walked past, blood stains on his jacket. “I wan’both of’em inside and kept tha’way till mornin’. Burn their clothes.”

He pounded up the steps past his son, barely sparing him a glance. Then he disappeared inside the house, the screen door slamming shut behind him. Perry and his bride followed suit. Only Rebecca looked back at Rhett with a kind of sympathy Tessa had never seen an Abbott display before, pretty blonde hair flicking over her shoulder.

Her father came to collect her clothes an hour later. T-shirt and jeans covered in dirt and blood and darkness and glowing white eyes. He wouldn’t meet her eye and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. Tessa’s hair hung damp around her shoulders as she passed off the bundle through the small crack she had made in the door.

“Y’alright, bug?” he asked softly, clothes held at his side.

No she wanted to say. She wanted to burst into tears like a child and have him hold her in his lap like he would back then. Put on cartoons and give her a treat to help her forget. But those days were over and done. Her friend almost died. She almost died. The Tillersons were still out there. Watching them from only a few miles away. Waiting to strike. 

She just nodded instead. “S’Rhett okay?”

Her father sighed and smiled, a small knowing thing. “He’s jus’fine. Should be all better come mornin’.” 

Tessa nodded again and he shut the door with a goodnight. But how could she possibly go to sleep? When she still heard Trevor’s cold whisper in her mind like an icy wind and saw the tearing of flesh from bone? She lay in her bed, quilt pulled up to her chin, and stared at the popcorn texture of the ceiling. It made sense why they didn’t return to the Abernathy home across town. The pack needed to stay together after such an event. But so much like the child she felt she could no longer be, she craved her own bed. Her own quilted blanket her mother made while pregnant with her. Her own popcorn-textured ceiling. For her and her friend never to have gone into the west pasture in the first place.

After what felt like several hours of trying, Tessa threw back her blankets and got out of bed. The floorboards creaked and groaned as she crossed the room to the window. The world was a black void. Only illuminated by the bright, shining disc of the moon. Almost full. She could feel its power tingling in her chest, in the tips of her fingers.

Cecelia Abbott, before she passed on from this life, used to say that the Moon Goddess had cursed Waya Pack. Abandoned them to a world set against them. Why else would the Tillerson family turn away from the pack and their numbers shrink to barely seven? Waya was a pack the Goddess wanted dead — for what sins Cecelia could never say. But Tessa did not think, as she looked up into the pale moon’s comforting face, that the Goddess could be so cruel. She was of blessings and curses, but she cared for her children. Even in the bleakest of hours. 

Opening the window, knowing the whole house could hear her, she climbed out onto the roof. The shingles were rough beneath her bare feet, but she didn’t mind. With the night came cooler air, still dry, but somehow more tolerable.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” a voice asked. 

She jumped and turned, only to see Rhett sitting there in his pajama bottoms, hugging his knees. Shoulder and side held together with crimson-stained bandages. His blue eyes looked swollen from crying in the moonlight, but she didn’t comment on it. 

“No,” she said as she crawled over to sit next to him.

Rhett took a shaky breath. “M’sorry. We shoulda…Shoulda jus’gone t’the creek.” 

“S’not y’r fault.” 

He didn’t say anything to that. Only sniffed and leaned back on the heels of his hands, legs outstretched. “Waddaya think’s gonna happen now?”

“I don’ know,” she said with a shrug, looking up at the stars spattered across the sky like spilled salt. “Now tha’we’re full wolves, I guess we’ll find out.”

Now that we’ve seen blood. Now that we’re not kids anymore. 

Rhett grunted that familiar low noise and Tessa looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Not yet boy and not yet man. His hair was cut short like his mother preferred but Tessa knows he hates. A lone curl brushed his forehead. Blue eyes like stormy skies turned towards the moon. To the goddess who felt so far above. 

She knew they weren’t mated. If they were, they would know by now. Her mother having long before told her the signs. That unexplainable draw to them, that connection. She knew she didn’t have that with Rhett, but it didn’t stop her from feeling something for him. It didn’t stop her heart from racing anytime they shared looks across rooms or tables, secrets and jokes and promises to laugh later. It didn’t stop her stomach from filling with butterflies anytime he touched her. It didn’t stop her from dreaming about one day, maybe, them being together. Taking residence in the little cottage on her parents' land and filling it with pups of their own. It was a fool's dream, but a good dream. 

It didn’t stop her from wondering if his actions today were some evidence that he felt the same.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” she asked, he just turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised expectantly, so she went on. “Why’d you…Defend me like that to the Tillersons?”

Her hand inched across the shingles towards his own, grating against her palm like sandpaper. A fool’s hope. What if…?

The corner of his mouth ticked up before he said, “‘Cause y’re my best friend. Couldn’t stand’em talkin’bout you like that.”

Heart no longer racing. Butterflies put to rest. Of course. They were friends. Nothing more. Always would be. Tessa drew back her hand. Turned her face towards the moon, the Goddess’ eye hung so high, high up in the sky, and said nothing more.

Two years later, Rhett and Tessa were still just pups in everyone else’s eyes. Though Rhett was now nearly as big as his father in wolf form and even taller than him as a boy. Strong and powerful — ready for a fight. Tessa remained the smallest member of the pack, but she was stealthy, quick and quiet — her eyes keen.

The two of them grew even closer. Sticking together both in and out of school. Tessa never brought up her feelings for Rhett, no matter how much they grew as they grew too. They were friends, best friends, and always would be. Wolves in the same pack. Together until the end.

And nothing further had happened with the Tillersons. That Omega clan. But Waya Pack remained ready, vigilant, cautious.

Until one day Rebecca went on a walk to left off some steam after a fight with Perry. 

She never came back home.

They searched for three days on their own, wolf noses turned to the earth, following her scent. Eventually, they crossed the west pasture and the smell of death. Perry howled, a sorrowful sound that rattled the trees, ready and willing to go onto Tillerson land and kill them all. But they were too many, and Waya was too few. Even more so now that Rebecca was gone.

So Royal turned to the law. Hoped they could find something to lock Wayne and the rest of his spawn away forever. But the sheriff couldn’t find a shred of evidence, going so far as to turn the blame back on Perry after hearing about the fight they had. 

They searched for a year, but eventually, the police just stopped looking.

Their little daughter, Amy, was only two years old. Eyes as big and blue as the sky and bright blonde hair down to her ears. The spitting image of her turned-wolf mother. Tessa held the toddler on her lap as the sheriff delivered the news that Rebecca was gone — and there was nothing to be done.

Waya Pack, settled in Wabang and ruled by Abbott blood for over 200 years, was down to six fighting wolves. Dying — on the brink of extinction. Cursed. For what sins Tessa still didn’t know, but she tried to repent of them regardless. To save her family, her friends, her way of life. 

Her everything.

Seven days after the police gave up on their search for Rebecca, three days after Tessa’s eighteenth birthday, Royal asked the Abernathy clan to come to dinner. 

Not an unusual occurrence. In fact, the families had dinner together multiple times a week in those days. When the world seemed to be caving in around them and their only hope was each other. But the air felt…Off as they sat around the cramped kitchen table and ate their chicken and potatoes. Gone was the usual quiet calm, the strength that comes with being together as a pack. It was replaced by a tense silence, parents sharing sidelong glances, and the uneasy scraping of cutlery against China. 

She glanced at Rhett to see if he was feeling the same and he gave her a look back. He was. He felt it too. They wondered if the storm would break during or after their meal.

After, it seemed it would be. As Royal led everyone into the living room and her parents decidedly sat in the armchairs on either side of the couch, Royal choosing to stand by the fireplace. Rhett and Tessa shared another look. Eyebrows furrowed, lips turned down in frowns. What is going on? They sat down on the couch together slowly, looking around at everyone with shifting eyes — noticing that Perry did not join them. The storm clouds were dark, ready to burst at any moment. Their parents kept looking at them anxiously, almost with pity. 

Rhett opened his mouth to tell them to just be out with it. 

But Royal beat him to the punch: 

“The Abernathy’s’n I’ve been talkin’. You two’re goin’t’get married.” 

The storm had only just begun.

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[princess-of-the-corner]

I haven't watched Jake Long so please forgive me if I get something wrong. But it would be sweet for Jake and his father to bond over the transformations. Just imagine the episode. Johnathan's monthly "overnight work trip" comes up and says goodbye for the night. But this time he is more suspicious than usual, with Susan wanting to go on a date tonight. Susan tries hiding her disappointment and Jake decides to go talk with father. His father is obviously refusing to talk with Jake about this. Jake follows his car to a motel nearby a forest, he thinks that his Dad is cheating on his mom. Then the reveal of Johnathan werewolf, and of course depending on how werewolves would work is most important for the episode.

Personally I like the idea of Johnathan recognizing Jake and running away, not wanting to hurt/turn his son. Also I like the idea of this being an arc, Jake not revealing his dragon side yet. After John wakes up in his hotel room with Jake he spills the secret and is worried that his son is going to be scared of him. Jake reassures him by revealing that he recognized him and ran away before doing anything. Jake tells his Father, that talking with mom about this would be best. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually John will have to tell Susan about all of this.

So I do have something else kinda thought through in the like.

Jake finds out through his duties as the Dragon in charge of the area. Dealing with Werewolves is part of his job. And he wasn't even investigating he just. Happens to be filing incident reports and registrations and sees a file on his dad and goes ????????

And yeah Jake is. A bit confrontational because 'what the FUCK???' and he's mostly calm and thinking this through except for the fact of 'how did I find that file? Well you see funny story-'

That said!

I would have an episode later on that involves them being stuck somewhere when the Full Moon hits and like.

Yeah it.

The way Werewolves work in my AU is that they're very. They're more animalistic, but they're still somewhat aware and are just going off instinct of things.

The reason they're known for being 'ravenous beasts that cause so much destruction' and all is because they're. They're hungry and in pain and confused as hell about where they are and what's going on, and people screaming and attacking them Does Not Help™.

People who know what's coming will prepare for the Full Moon. Yes they'll be locked somewhere safe where they can't get out(and no one should come in). But the Wolf needs food and enrichment and to feel safe! Having a consistent saferoom and things familiar to the Wolf (such as stealing a jacket from a friend and it still smells like them), and making sure to load the fuck up on calories will keep the Wolf much more calm.

And even in hectic environments, they can still be calmed. Like yes this case where Johnathan would go into Full Moon form but still recognize Jake and be like 'ah yes this is child. child is safe? we must be safe then. Child is in trouble? Fight what is harming child!'.

[sp0o0kylights]

Idk if you're still taking submissions from the WIP game, but if so, I would definitely be interested in a snippet for 20.

20! This is Hungry, the main werewolf AU I have. Outside of my big fics (in terms of word length--Cults and Illustrated) I have the most snippets for Hungry, but its so all over the place lol.

This is not A/B/O, this is a werewolf verse similar to Patricia Briggs/Ilona Andrews type of werewolves. As with the others, it may get a LOT of the editing axe lol.

Snippet:

Steve woke with a groan, feeling like he’d been hit by a car.

Again. 

“Do I want to know what happened?” He muttered, though it was mostly to his own wolf, as the details of the earlier morning slowly filtered through his memories.  

Like many werewolves, his wolf was a part of him, but often operated almost like it was a purely separate being. 

This was due to the drastic differences between wolf and human lives, with the human portion having more problems adjusting to their combined form than the blunt way wolves did. It let werewolves feel like they could “talk” to their other half, though the actual magic was far more complex than that.

Steve didn’t particularly care for complexities and so, just went with the basic explanation of things. 

It suited him and his wolf just fine. 

Eddie was passed next to him, head pillowed on Steve's chest, face tucked into his neck. A glance showed Jonathan was blinking awake behind Eddie, curled up into a tight ball the same way he always slept. 

This meant Steve got to watch the sheer joy that was Eddie Munson’s curls tickling Jonathan Byers’ nose, the latter sneezing himself into full awareness. 

“Shut up Steve.” He grumbled when he finally stopped, Steve desperately trying to silence his snickering so that they didn’t wake Eddie. 

::I’d tell you to make me, Byer’s, but I don’t need to give Eddie ideas.:: Steve said it over the packbond between them, making the conversation both private and silent, so as to not wake their sleeping member. 

He waggled his eyebrows though, just to see the face it made Jonathan make. 

(He got an amazing eye roll in response, the both of them pretending Jonathan wasn’t trying to hide a smile. )

He studied their newest member while for a while, chewing absently on his lower lip as he did so, and Steve let him take his time.

Wasn't in the mood to rush things, after the close call they'd had back in the kitchen.

:: I like him.:: Jonathan said finally, sounding quiet even when he talked in a way that didn’t involve his voice at all. ::I don’t know what Hop said to him or why, but from what I’ve seen, he’s well suited to being our Second.:: 

Second as in, the official Second in Command of the Pack, as in Nancy’s replacement, something Steve agreed wholeheartedly with. 

Nancy tried, bless her. She did. Didn’t do a bad job either, it was just that….

Steve thought of how pinched her face got when all six children sprung one of their hair brained  schemes on the Pack, how she made strangling motions at Mike’s back when she thought no one could see her. 

It was hilarious, and meant in good fun, but it also was a reminder that when it came to wrangling all their younger members, Eddie was far superior both in ability to direct and lead them. 

(Bonus, they actually cared about Eddie’s approval and opinion.)