#I think it's fun pairing up two supernatural creatures

[edgepunk]

anyway. I can't believe vampire x werewolf romance isn't more common. I like that shit so much, the only one I can think of are Enid's parents from OK KO, where her mom is a vampire and her dad is a werewolf, and Enid is a witch ninja

[hyuckiefluff]

MOONSTRUCK | p. jisung

pairing: werewolf!hufflepuff! jisung x hufflepuff!fem. reader genre: best friends to lovers, hogwarts/supernatural au, angst, smut. wc: 18.3k+ summary: after a cruel prank leaves jisung cursed, he withdraws from everyone—including you, his closest friend. but secrets can't stay hidden forever, and when a full moon pulls you into the darkness he's tried so desperately to conceal, there's no going back. content warnings: werewolf lore & transformation, drug usage, rut/mating behavior, rough sex, biting/marking, mild breeding kink, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, bulge kink, mentions of bruising & blood, mild body horror, brief medical talk (contraceptive), aftercare. lmk if i missed any! a/n: nearly a month in the making and i can finally say i’m satisfied enough to post this lol. i’m actually really happy with how it turned out—and i finally got to write about werewolves, which has been on my list forever. canonically, werewolves in the HP universe (and most lore tbh) are dangerous nocturnal creatures and primarily bloodthirsty. but for this fic, i took a step away from that and leaned into the rut aspect instead because why not ;) pls don’t judge the cover, i had picsart and a dream lol. btw moonstruck by enhypen and nda by billie eilish are two songs u should listen to while reading this!

ps: i don’t know why i was under the assumption that everyone knows hp terms but i realized that is not the case after my mark fic 😭 so even though i didn’t use too many obscure ones here, here’s a little reference guide just in case: legilimens– someone who can read minds or emotions squib– a non-magical person born into a magical family (in this fic, it’s thrown around more like calling someone useless/coward) wolfsbane– a potion that allows werewolves to keep their mind during a full moon; in hp lore they still transform, but in this fic it's not a full transformation. feel free to message me if anything else was confusing! happy reading<3

You didn’t expect your seventh year at Hogwarts to feel like grieving someone who was still alive.

Three months ago, Park Jisung was still your best friend. Now, he can’t even stand being near you. 

The suddenness of this change was something you couldn’t wrap around your head. But things don’t always fall apart all at once. Sometimes they drift until you’re left staring across a room at someone who used to know everything about you and wondering when they became a stranger.

He was the very first friend you made at Hogwarts. You remember how he barely spoke to anyone, and you sat next to him in Transfiguration class just because there was an empty seat. You charmed your quill into a frog that wouldn’t stop croaking, and when he finally cracked a smile, it felt like you’d won something important.

He was awkward and soft-spoken, unsure of himself in the way most boys are before they grow into their limbs. But you liked him instantly. Probably because he liked the same books as you, or because he never made fun of you for being nervous on a broom. 

He even held your hand during your first flying lesson, hovering near you the whole time so you wouldn’t be scared. Years later, you found out he was just as scared of heights as you were and only pretended not to be to make you feel safe.

By fifth year, you spent so much time together that you could finish each other’s sentences. By sixth, you were bringing blankets to the highest tower in the castle and naming stars until you both fell asleep mid conversation. There wasn’t a single version of your life in Hogwarts that didn’t include him.

You thought seventh year would be just like that…. 

You were wrong.

After a summer of sending each other daily letters, pages and pages of thoughts, jokes, and half-sincere promises to never grow up, you returned to school thinking nothing could change.

And at first, it didn’t.

You walked to classes together, fell asleep with your legs tangled on the same couch, pretending not to hear the way people whispered about it the next morning, and snuck out of the common room after curfew not caring that you’d get caught.

The Astronomy Tower was your favorite place, you discovered how pretty it looked at night in your third year. 

It was quiet that evening, the wind tugging at your robes as you leaned over the battlement. Jisung set down the little paper packet he’d smuggled from the kitchens—honey biscuits, still warm—and nudged it toward you.

“Payment for helping with my Potions homework,” he said, trying to be casual, though the tips of his ears were already pink.

You laughed and took one, bumping his shoulder with yours. “You’d owe me a whole bakery if this were the price.”

He smiled softly. The moonlight caught in his hair, and for a second you forgot the chill entirely.

“Close your eyes,” he said suddenly.

You arched an eyebrow but obeyed. Something light, wool‑soft, was placed around your shoulders. You opened your eyes to find a black‑and‑yellow scarf wrapped there, smelling faintly of cedarwood soap and parchment ink—purely, unmistakably Jisung.

“Did you make this?” you asked, caressing the soft fabric.

“Erm… yeah, you lost yours and it’s starting to get cold outside.” He mumbled, eyes on his shoes. “I couldn’t have my star‑chart partner freeze.”

You swallowed a reply that felt too big, and instead reached for his hand where it rested on the stone ledge. Your fingers threaded with his, easy as blinking. He stiffened for a second then squeezed back. When you looked up, his gaze was already fixed on you, wide and bright, as though the whole sky were reflected there instead of above your heads.

Neither of you moved for a long while. Orion wheeled overhead, the biscuits cooled, and the castle bells tolled curfew far below. But the only thing you really noticed was the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way your heart tripped every time he glanced your way and smiled shyly. 

You learned just how soft‑hearted Jisung was that day on the Astronomy Tower.

Which is why, a few weeks into seventh year, it struck you as utterly wrong when rumors reached you that he’d been seen tagging along behind Lee Seungmin. Seungmin was everything Jisung wasn’t—loud, sharp‑tongued, the sort of Slytherin who thought shoving first‑years into suits of armor was a hobby and swapping curse ingredients under the table was a joke. He hexed quills to peck at classmates and bragged about detentions like they were trophies.  

Jisung, by contrast, apologized when he bumped into someone and brought extra quills for anyone who forgot theirs. He flinched at raised voices and fed the barn owls after hours because he worried they were lonely.

So hearing his name linked with Seungmin’s felt like hearing that rain was falling upward. At first you laughed it off, because surely someone must have mixed him up with another quiet Hufflepuff. But then Jisung started arriving late to meals, dodging your study sessions, mumbling vague excuses you’d never heard from him before.

That was when you realized the rumor wasn’t a mistake—and that something was very, very wrong.

Seventh Year

September settled over the castle in a bright rush of golden leaves and new parchment, and for a while everything felt the way it always had. You and Jisung were crossing the courtyard—still laughing about his theory that Professor Lockhart polished his hair with Mrs. Skower’s Extra‑Shine—when a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

“Oi, Park!”

You both turned. Lee Seungmin jogged toward you, grinning widelys. You didn’t bother hiding your sigh.

“Still on for tonight?” he asked, dropping his voice as he leaned in toward Jisung.

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a Potions essay to finish.” Jisung shifted akwardly.

Seungmin smacked him on the back, too hard to be friendly. “Come on, you’ve bailed twice already.”

You stepped forward, folding your arms. “Don’t you have that same essay, Seungmin? It’s half the term grade.”

He turned, as if noticing you for the first time and smirked “Why bother? Snape’s going to fail me anyway.”

“Typical,” you muttered.

“I’ll let you know later,” Jisung said quickly, cutting between you before another jab could leave your mouth.

Seungmin’s gaze lingered on you, faintly mocking, before he turned away with a humorless laugh. “Sure thing, Park.”

The moment he was out of earshot you exhaled. “Since when are you and Seungmin… close?”

“We’re not,” Jisung said, scratching at the back of his neck. “He just hangs around sometimes.”

You searched his face. “You two have nothing in common.”

“It isn’t a big deal,” he insisted, but the laugh that followed sounded fake.

“It is if you’re sneaking off with someone like him,” you said, sharper than you meant to, but the worry was too much to hide.

Jisung’s gaze dropped to his shoes. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

You didn’t say anything after that. You just walked the rest of the way to class in silence with a sense of unease settling on your chest.

That was when the distance began to show.

First, he started seating two rows over in Charms, smiling apologetically whenever you glanced his way but never moving back. He stopped leaving crooked little jokes on the margins of your Transfiguration notes or looking at you and trying not to laugh whenever Professor Lockhart messed up a spell.

He still spoke to you, yet every conversation felt stitched together, as if he were acting out a script. One afternoon you finally asked, “Are we all right?” He nodded so quickly you had a hard time believing it.

The next time you saw him with Seungmin it was well past curfew.

You had just left the library after wrestling Arithmancy proofs and stopped short as soon as you rounded the corner near the dungeon stairs. There was Seungmin leaning against the wall and Jisung half‑turned away, both speaking in low murmurs. You caught only fragments of Seungmin’s lazy drawl and Jisung’s tight replies. Then Seungmin laughed sharply, and your best friend flinched as though struck.

Your loud footsteps made both of their heads snap up.

“Y/N,” Jisung blurted, striding toward you as if to block your view. “Why are you out so late?”

“I could ask you the same.” You said arching a brow.

Behind him, Seungmin offered a thin grin before slipping down the stairs into the darkness of the dungeons.

Jisung pressed a hand to his eyes. “I was heading back to the dorm.”

“What did he want?”

“He—” Jisung’s voice faltered and for a heartbeat you saw the words gather behind his lips but he swallowed them down. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked on the word. “Come on, Ji.”

“I’m just tired,” he whispered. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Silence pooled between you, at last you forced a smile neither of you believed. “All right. Tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never arrived—at least, not the kind where he told you what was wrong.

Because the next day Jisung never came to class at all.

Two whole days slid by without a glimpse of him and you were so on edge you kept glancing over your shoulder, half‑expecting his soft voice behind you. Or hoping he might walk into the library with that shy lopsided smile, asking if you had spare parchment which he always ran out of because his handwriting was too big and messy.

But he wasn’t anywhere, and no one seemed willing to notice besides you.

By lunch on the second day you couldn’t keep silent. Renjun was halfway through a Honeydukes bar, mumbling that chocolate boosted cognitive function, when you leaned across the table and murmured, “Do you know what’s going on with Jisung?”

He froze mid‑bite. “What?”

“Renjun,” you said, low and tight, “you know he hasn’t been to class, or in the common room. He isn’t anywhere.”

“I thought he was sick,” Renjun offered with a shrug that felt rehearsed.

“He isn’t in the hospital wing, and he hasn’t answered any of my owls.”

A flicker of something, maybe guilt, crossed his face. “Maybe he just… needs space?”

Your gaze sharpened. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he blurted too fast. “No, not that I know of.”

“Renjun.”

“I swear, I don’t know.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes. That was answer enough, but you let it drop for now.

That evening, heading back from a prefect meeting, you passed the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room and heard voices up the corridor.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—until one word snapped you still.

“Jisung.”

“Snape got to him before—”

“—thought he was going to die, mate—”

“—Seungmin won’t shut up, keeps saying it wasn’t meant to go that far—”

A rush of blood pounded in your ears as you picked up bits of the hushed conversation. You edged closer and caught sight of Jay and Niki—Seungmin’s friends—half hidden in the shadows, whispering behind cupped hands.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. Your thoughts finally being confirmed; Something happened to Jisung and Seungmin was at the heart of it.

You didn’t sleep a minute that night. Every time you shut your eyes, the conversation replayed in your head until dawn bled through the curtains and you were already out of bed, fury keeping you upright.

You found Seungmin loitering outside the Great Hall, laughing too loudly at something Jay and Niki had said. You crossed the marble floor without a second thought.

“Where is he?”

The smile slipped from Seungmin’s face. He cocked his head, all polite confusion. “Sorry, where’s who?”

“Drop the act,” you said, stepping close enough that he had to tilt his chin to keep eye contact. “I heard your lackeys talking last night. Where’s Jisung?”

Jay and Niki exchanged a look but said nothing..

Seungmin gave a thin, brittle laugh. “You’re hearing ghosts, sweetheart. Why would I bother with Park?”

“A better question,” you started, voice cold, “is why you’ve been so attached to him lately. You don’t exactly run in the same circles, so what did you talk him into?”

Something sharpened in Seungmin’s eyes and he leaned in by a fraction. “Careful with what you’re accusing me of.”

“Or what?” You didn’t move. “You’ll do to me what you did to him?”

For a heartbeat his mask slipped, just long enough to confirm you’d scored a direct hit.

“I didn’t touch him,” he said, almost gently. “Whatever mess Park’s in? He walked into it himself”

“Liar.”

He dipped his head, a mock‑sympathetic smile curling at his mouth. “You think you know him so well, huh? Ever think that maybe he finally got tired of you shadowing him like a needy bitc—”

Your wand was at his throat before the last word finished leaving his lips. The corridor went silent except for your breathing.

“You know nothing about us,” you said, voice shaking with contained fury. “If he’s hurt, I’ll make sure everyone here knows exactly whose fault it is.”

Seungmin’s gaze flicked to the tip of your wand, then back to your face. A slow, poisonous smile spread. “Ask too many questions, Y/N, and you might choke on the answers.”

He stepped back with his hands raised in surrender, and strolled away. Jay and Niki followed in uneasy silence. You lowered your wand, fingers trembling with adrenaline.

His parting smile told you everything about his involvement. But you still didn’t have clear answers.

So you went to seek the other person allegedly involved. Snape.

When you descended into the dungeons, the silence was immediate and unnatural. No one ever came this far during free periods; only Professor Snape’s office existed at the end of this corridor, buried deep in the coldest, most isolated part of the castle.

Faint green flames floated midair along the walls, suspended in enchanted sconces that made no sound and cast no warmth. They pulsed gently, like breathing, and their glow warped the stone around them, making the shadows twist in ways that defied logic.

You hated it down here. Even now, in your seventh year, walking this corridor alone made your heart thud against your ribs like it wanted you to turn back.

But you were desperate.

Snape looked up slowly when you stepped into his office without knocking, his quill pausing mid-sentence on the parchment. His expression went from mildly irritated to coldly displeased in an instant.

“Is knocking a forgotten concept these days?” he said dryly.

“Professor,” you began quickly, not even trying to hide the urgency in your voice. “I need to talk to you.”

Snape set down his quill, arching a single eyebrow. “Then I suggest you start talking, and make it quick.”

You swallowed. “It’s about Jisung… Park Jisung. He’s been missing for days, and no one seems to know anything. Or at least, they’re pretending they don’t.”

His gaze sharpened and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of caution behind his eyes before he quickly masked it.

“I fail to see why you’re bringing this to me,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Missing students are a matter for the headmaster.”

“Don’t,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but you pressed forward anyway. “I overheard some students talking. They mentioned your name…said you found Jisung somewhere. Something happened to him, didn’t it?”

Snape’s eyes flashed briefly. “And you believe the idle gossip of students because…?”

“Jisung wouldn’t just disappear on his own like that. I know something happened to him,” you shot back, voice shaking. “And I believe you know exactly what.”

He watched you silently for a moment. You could feel him weighing something behind his guarded stare. Finally, he exhaled sharply.

“Miss Y/N,” he began slowly, voice heavy with thinly veiled warning, “there are things within these castle walls and beyond them that you are better off not knowing.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you said immediately.

“On the contrary,” he replied calmly. “It is precisely my choice. And you will do well to remember that.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, frustration prickling hot behind your eyes. “Professor, please. Jisung’s my best friend. If he’s hurt… if something’s happened… I need to know.”

Something shifted in Snape’s expression at your words, almost looked like regret. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle, which frightened you more than his scorn.

“Sometimes the worst harm you can do to someone is to keep prying.”

He paused, holding your gaze steadily. “Park is alive. That is all you need to know. Now leave.”

You stood frozen for a second, his words sinking in painfully. Jisung was alive—yet somehow, that felt worse. It meant something had happened… Something terrible.

Your jaw tightened. “You can’t keep this hidden forever,” you whispered fiercely.

He leaned forward, eyes piercing yours in the darkness of the room.

“We’ll see.”

You turned away, storming from his office without looking back. Snape hadn’t denied anything which meant there’d definitely been an incident and it was serious enough that Jisung couldn’t be seen right now. He was alive, but he was hurt, and whatever happened to him was being deliberately hidden.

A few days later

The day started like any other.

You pushed cold eggs across your plate, half listening to Renjun’s gentle attempts at conversation while the Great Hall hummed as if a student hadn’t been missing for a week. But suddenly, a hush rolled through the room.

You felt Renjun touch your arm.

“Y/N.”

You looked up, and followed his gaze toward the doors. The breath caught in your throat.

Jisung was standing just inside the oak doors.

He was bent at the shoulders, eyes flicking over the Hall as if he didn’t remember ever being there before. His robes hung wrinkled and loose and there were red scratches carved along his neck and cheek. He was paler than before and the shadows beneath his eyes made him look years older than when you’d last seen him.

Without greeting anyone, he drifted to the far end of the Hufflepuff table nowhere near his usual seat beside you.

You were on your feet before the thought finished forming.

Renjun caught your wrist. “Y/N, maybe wait—”

You shook him off and crossed the hall, every step echoing in the sudden quiet.

“Jisung?”

He flinched but kept his gaze on the empty plate. “Not now, Y/N.”

“You’ve been gone a week,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I was so worried—”

“I said not now.” The snap in his voice was sharp enough to cut. He glanced up and the terror in his eyes chilled you to the bone.

You reached for him, but he stood so abruptly your balance faltered. Without another word he strode the length of the hall and disappeared through the doors, leaving a silence that seemed to bend the rafters.

You stood frozen, heat flushing your face as dozens of eyes slid away. Renjun appeared at your elbow and talked softly. “Let him breathe.”

You nodded, though the emptiness in your chest insisted otherwise.

Jisung returned to lessons, but only in body. He answered professors in one‑word murmurs and offered classmates strained smiles that meant please don’t talk to me. At meals he sat alone, two yards of empty bench marking the space where laughter used to live.

He moved faster when he saw you in the corridors. He no longer waited outside classrooms or drifted toward your chair in the library. His robes hung loose as if he’d lost weight along with sleep, and his hands shook whenever he raised his wand. Sometimes you caught him staring through stone walls at something only he could see.

You tried with soft hellos in the common room, and owls folded with careful questions but every attempt slid off the wall he’d built overnight. The harder you reached, the farther he retreated, until all that remained between you was silence and the memory of how easily you’d once shared the same breath.

2 days later

Jisung sat on the edge of his bed, head buried in his shaking hands. His palms were marked with crescent-shaped indentations from how hard he was clenching his fists.

He kept hearing it.

The snap of branches in pitch-black darkness. The sickening crunch of claws sinking into damp earth. The guttural snarl vibrating through his bones moments before razor-sharp teeth pierced his shoulder. The thick warmth of blood soaking through his robes.

Sometimes it came to him in dreams. Other times, he’d be awake, in class, or walking down the corridor. A sound, or a smell and he was back in the forest.

Snape had said the wolfsbane would help and it had in a way. At least, it kept the full transformation at bay. But it didn’t stop the memories, it didn’t quiet the noise in his head.

His senses were too sharp now, every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of candlelight, every rustle of parchment felt louder. Sometimes he thought he could hear people’s heartbeats, smell their sweat before they entered a room. His insides constantly felt overwhelmed with unbearable energy. He felt trapped in his own skin, moments away from tearing free of himself. Sometimes he felt too much, and other times… he felt nothing at all.

Worst of all, though, was you.

He couldn't stand to be near you anymore. Not because he didn't want to, but because your scent now stirred something dangerous within him. It made his chest ache unbearably, tightened his throat with longing and thirst.

A part of him urged him to get far away from you. But another darker, more primal part whispered the opposite… to scent you, to sink into you, to lose control entirely. But he refused to drag you into his nightmare. He wouldn't allow it, no matter how much it tore at him.

He could remember most of what led him into the forest, up to a certain point.

He remembers Seungmin saying he wanted to hang out and they met near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where one of the slytherins handed out something called shadeleaf. It was an iridescent petal folded into itself like a capsule. Illegal, of course. Banned by the ministry for its hallucinogenic properties and its tendency to react differently based on magical affinity.

Jisung didn't even know why he was there. This wasn’t his scene at all. The guys were drinking something out of a flask that smelled like burnt sugar and smoke. Jay was lighting up a rolled spell-scroll with charmed embers. Niki already looked half out of it, eyes glazed.

When Seungmin started showing an interest in him a few weeks ago, Jisung had been flattered. He'd only ever made two close friends at Hogwarts, so someone new noticing him felt good. That was the only reason he went along with him. He wanted to be accepted.

“Is it safe?” Jisung asked nervously.

“Come on, park,” Niki chuckled, placing a shimmering petal on his tongue. “Don’t be a Squib.”

“What's the worst that could happen?” Seungmin grinned, handing one to him. “You trip a bit? See some weird shit? Wake up with a headache?”

Jisung hesitated, staring at the thing in his palm. It pulsed faintly with a color he didn’t have a name for.

He didn't want to do it, but they were all watching him. So he took it.

The effects hit almost instantly. His vision went fuzzy first; he could only see edges warping and light bending at impossible angles. Then his tongue tingled and throbbed, and his body felt too hot.

“Shit, this is strong,” Jay laughed.

“It’s not that bad,” Seungmin said, puffing from the smoldering scroll between his fingers.

None of them looked as affected as Jisung.

"Come on, Park," Seungmin said, draping an arm casually yet firmly around Jisung’s shoulders. "There’s a spot a little deeper in. We hang out there all the time."

Jisung couldn’t hear properly anymore, everything sounded underwater. He followed anyway.

He couldn’t say how long they walked. It felt like hours, though in reality it was probably mere minutes before his knees gave out, sending him sprawling onto the cold forest floor. His head spun violently, vision fractured.

He tried to speak, to call out but his voice didn't work, the forest blurring darker and darker until only silence and blackness swallowed him whole. He didn’t know when they left him. Just that at some point, he was alone.

The last thing he remembers was seeing bright, yellow eyes and feeling immense pain…

He woke up choking on his own blood.

His body jerked violently, lungs burning as he struggled to take in air. He felt strong hands grip his shoulders, pulling him upright with urgency. Through blurry, half-open eyes, he caught the outline of a wand glowing faintly in the dark. He barely recognized the familiar cadence of Professor Snape’s voice echoing through the haze.

“Park… Can you hear me?” Snape’s voice was clipped, edged with tension he’d never heard before.

Jisung managed only a strangled groan. He couldn’t speak, his throat was raw, filled with the metallic tang of blood. Breathing felt impossible, each gasp shallow and painful, as if his lungs were full of lead. He felt wetness soaking through his clothes and pooling beneath him. He didn't know if it was sweat or blood. Probably both, his clouded mind whispered darkly.

He was certain of only one thing—he was going to die here.

“You’ve been attacked,” Snape explained urgently, casting quick charms that rippled warmly across Jisung’s battered body. “I need you to remain as still as possible while I attempt to slow the bleeding.”

The word attacked echoed faintly in Jisung’s mind. Attacked by what? His thoughts swirled sluggishly. He couldn’t focus enough to piece anything together.

Snape pressed a small vial to his lips. The Hufflepuff hesitated, eyes flickering up weakly, his question dying soundlessly on cracked lips.

Snape seemed to understand instantly. “It’s Wolfsbane.”

The word crashed over Jisung with crushing weight, his mind snapping painfully back to clarity. Wolfsbane. A potion for…

His stomach twisted violently, nausea gripping him as realization cut sharply through the fog in his mind.

He’d been attacked by a werewolf.

It felt impossible. He wanted to deny it, wanted to believe it was just some twisted nightmare brought on by the drugs he’d foolishly taken. But the pain burning through his shoulder and the dark, grim expression on Snape’s face all made denial impossible.

With trembling lips, Jisung allowed Snape to tip the bitter potion into his mouth, grimacing weakly as he forced himself to swallow it down. It tasted vile but he had no energy left to protest.

He collapsed back against the cold forest floor, limbs heavy, vision fading once more as Snape continued muttering charms, trying to keep him tethered to consciousness.

“Stay with me, Park,” Snape’s voice commanded, sharp but oddly comforting. “You’re not going to die tonight.”

But Jisung wasn’t sure he believed him.

The darkness rushed back in, heavy and thick, pulling him under again as Snape’s frantic movements blurred and faded away.

His memory is fuzzy from then on.

One moment he was lying in the dirt, blood soaking the ground beneath him. The next, he was being levitated through narrow hallways, his body wrapped in magic and warding charms.

The room was dark, except for a wandlight hovering near the ceiling. He was placed on a dusty mattress on the floor. His skin felt stiff with blood, every muscle felt like it had been peeled apart and sewn back together with barbed wire.

He recognized the Shrieking Shack from an article he’d read once about the most haunted places on Earth. That’s where they were right now.

The shack was colder than he imagined. This was the place they used to tell ghost stories about in the common room. The place kids dared each other to peek into on Hogsmeade weekends. It smelled like old wood and dust. Snape moved through it like he’d been here before—like this was routine.

He cast a dozen silent spells before even speaking. Layers of enchantments wrapped around the rotting floorboards, the shattered furniture, the warped windows.

“You must take this Wolfsbane every day,” Snape said curtly, setting a tray on the floor beside the creaking mattress. “Or I’ll force it down your throat.”

Jisung didn’t answer. Snape paused, studying him with that unreadable stare.

“You’ll stay here until the full moon passes,” he said. “You’ll say nothing when you return.”

Jisung blinked slowly, the weight of it sinking into his bones. ‘When you return… or If’.

Then Snape turned to go but he stopped in the doorway.

“You are not the first,” he said, voice low. “It will be painful but you’ll survive.”

And with that, he was gone.

The silence was the most unbearable part of being in the Shack. Not even the pain or the way Jisung’s bones ached like they were preparing to snap apart. It was the silence that made him feel like he’d go crazy any minute.

He tried to sleep, but whenever he tried he’d blink awake to phantom sensations of fur brushing his skin, fangs pushing against his teeth, and a sweet scent of honey curling through the cracks in the floorboards.

It wasn’t the full moon yet but his body was already responding to it. The Wolfsbane kept him from changing completely, but it didn’t stop everything. His skin itched as if it was being stretched and he realized he’d grown a few inches taller overnight. His eyes were also becoming sensitive to even the faintest flickers of light, and they were a dark shade of yellow that glowed whenever the moonlight hit them.

It might’ve been on the second night or the third, he couldn’t remember well, but Snape came in and told him that the full moon would be at its peak and he would feel the effects more despite the potion.

Jisung lasted about two hours before the pain began. It wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly, like frostbite, numbing his fingers first. Then his wrists and his legs. He thought maybe this was it—maybe he’d just fade out before anything happened. Then it spread up his spine and into his skull, where it bloomed behind his eyes like fire.

The pain was so much bigger than his body. It burned and it shredded him, as if his bones were being broken and rebuilt at the same time, like his skin wasn’t big enough to hold him anymore. He scratched at his own arms until his nails cracked and bled. It got so unbearable he slammed his head against the wall hoping he would knock himself out but he couldn’t.

He clawed at the walls, tore at the floorboards and bit into the wood until his mouth filled with splinters and blood. He howled until his throat tore raw. And still, it didn’t stop

He lost count of how many times his limbs broke and reformed. His jaw cracked open so wide he thought it might dislocate, teeth pushing through bloody gums. He was sobbing or at least, he thought he was. It was hard to tell over the sound of his own growling.

The transformation stopped halfway and started again the next day. He never fully transformed but he felt the pain of his body trying to fight against it every single time.

He stopped counting days after that.

Hunger and exhaustion tangled with grief and fear until all that was left was the throb of his body and the steady hum of magic in his blood. He didn’t think about the pain anymore. Or the bite. Or Seungmin. Or the forest.

Mostly, he thought about you.

He tried not to, but you wouldn’t leave him. Your face, your laugh, your voice, it all circled him like the moonlight through the slats in the wall.

The way the thought of you made his body burn now.The way your honeyed scent used to be comforting but now made his lungs tighten and his mouth water. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way.

On the seventh day he woke up soaked in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. The moon had passed. He could feel it in the way the ache in his bones was retreating and his mind was clearer.

Snape arrived at dawn.

He said nothing about the mess of blood and broken furniture in the room. He just studied Jisung who was sitting slumped against the wall. He pulled out his wand and started casting diagnostic spells over his body.

“You’ll return to class tomorrow,” he said. “If anyone asks, you were ill.”

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape continued impassively. “You are not to mention the Wolfsbane, the forest, or what you’ve become. Do you understand?”

Jisung finally looked at him, barely able to lift his head properly. “That’s it? Just… go back like nothing happened?” His voice came out hoarse.

Snape’s eyes narrowed faintly. “No. That is not it.”

He stepped closer.

“You will take your potion every cycle, no matter what. And you will not seek out the other boys involved, nor will you retaliate.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to rip Seungmin’s throat apart, but he knew that was just the wolf thinking.

“And most importantly, you will stay away from her.” Snape said, his voice dropping at the last word.

Jisung sat up sharply, knowing exactly who he was referring to. “Why?”

The professor’s expression didn’t soften. “Because the wolf doesn’t care that she’s your friend. It doesn’t care about boundaries or guilt or decency. It responds to need.”

Jisung’s chest tightened, throat dry.

“The first few transformations are the worst,” Snape continued, pacing slowly now. “Your body hasn’t adjusted. Your instincts haven’t aligned with your mind. You will feel urges…violent, territorial, carnal urges that you can’t control. Those urges will turn into fixations... Especially for someone you already had feelings for”

“I don’t–” Jisung started.

“You don’t need to lie, Mr. Park.” Snape cut him off, “I am a very skilled Legilimens, you know? I can see your mind and I see how it’s filled with thoughts of her.”

Jisung looked away, jaw trembling slightly. Snape stopped in front of him.

“Her scent” he said quietly. “It already triggers you, doesn’t it?”

Jisung didn’t answer. That sweet scent of honey and parchment that he kept smelling through the rotting floors and the dried blood, he figured out it was you. It reminded him of that night at the Astronomy tower.The Shrieking Shack might be a few miles away from Hogwarts castle but he could still somehow smell you.

“You feel it in your chest, in your teeth, in your gut” Snape said, voice like a scalpel. “You want her.”

Jisung’s breathing picked up.

“That is the beginning of your rut.”

“Rut?” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

Snape nodded. “It’s a biological response. Wolves enter a heightened state after the full moon cycle. Some experience it more than others, especially younger ones who’ve recently turned”

Jisung’s heart was pounding now, nauseatingly fast.

“You may feel sudden impulses or worse you might want to act on those impulses.”

He felt sick. “I’m not— I would never hurt her.”

“I’m not concerned about your intentions,” Snape said coldly. “I’m concerned about your self control. A werewolf’s instincts are hard to resist and if you lose control, Mr. Park… She will pay the price.”

“So stay away from her,” Snape said with finality. “It’s the only way to keep you both safe.”

Jisung sat there shaking, the weight of what he’d become pressing down on his spine like a second body.

He couldn’t go back. Not like this.

“I’m not ready,” he said hoarsely.

Snape didn’t turn. He stood by the window, watching the last of the night dissolve into grey morning.

“You won’t ever be,” he said simply.

Jisung clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to see her. Or anyone. I—I can’t trust myself.”

“You must learn to live with your current situation.”

“Why can’t I just… stay here?”

Snape turned at that. His eyes were cold and calculating.

“Because people are already asking questions,” he said. “Students, staff. Your friend.”

Jisung’s heart stuttered at that.

“She’s worried,” Snape continued. “Rightfully so. You disappeared without warning. She’s been to my office several times. She’s even confronted the student who got you into this predicament, pulled out a wand at him. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her from endangering herself trying to find you.”

Jisung lowered his head, guilt flooding every nerve.

“Rumors are spreading, too.” Snape added. “A few students are saying they saw you with Mr. Lee that night. Some think you were injured, others that you’re in trouble. You’ve already been gone too long.”

Jisung swallowed hard. “So I just walk into the Great Hall acting like I’m normal?”

Snape didn’t blink. “Yes.”

His stomach turned. “And if someone sees the scars?”

“You’ll say you had an accident in the forest.”

“And you’ll back me up?” he asked bitterly.

“If I must.”

Jisung exhaled shakily. “And Y/N? We—we’re always together, she’ll find it weird if I suddenly cut her off”

“You’ll keep your distance regardless. If she asks questions, you deflect. If she pushes, you walk away. You’re not safe around her”

He bit his lip hard, so hard it almost bled. “She’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Then hope she’s smart enough not to get too close.”

The doors to the Great Hall had never felt so heavy. Jisung stood in front of them for nearly five minutes, staring at the carved wood. Behind them, he heard laughter, casual conversation, normalcy.

He wasn’t ready.

But Snape’s words echoed in his skull.

"You’ve already been gone too long."

He took a breath and pushed them open.

All the noise overcame him like a wave, the plates clinking, voices overlapping, owls fluttering through the rafters. It all felt loud in a way it hadn’t before, as if someone had turned the world’s volume up just to punish him.

He kept his head low and his pace steady. One foot in front of the other. Just like Snape said. Act like nothing happened.

He could feel all eyes on him almost instantly. First years stopping mid-bite and a few seventh-years whispering across the Gryffindor table. Someone, he thought maybe Jay, froze with a goblet halfway to his lips.

And then you. He didn’t have to loo, he felt the second your eyes landed on him, making something twist deep in his chest. That same unbearable tightness he’d felt in the shack whenever he let himself think about you. About your laugh echoing across the common room. About your fingers brushing his when you passed him a quill and how it used to mean nothing, and now it meant everything.

He knew you’d notice the hollow look in his eyes, the bruises blooming like violets on his neck and the bandage peeking out from beneath the collar of his robes. You’d find it weird that he didn’t sit near you, didn’t even glance your way. But he tried to ignore those thoughts and just focus on the plate in front of him even though his stomach turned at the smell of food.

You stared at him from your seat. It took you several long, painful seconds to process what you were seeing.

Jisung—your best friend, who’d been missing a week without a word—just walked into breakfast looking like he’d seen hell and barely made it back out.

His robes were loose like he’d lost weight and his eyes were ringed with dark circles, exhaustion written clearly in every line of his face. There were cuts visible, thin red marks down his jaw, a deeper scar stretching beneath his collar, fading bruises on the backs of his hands. His hair was tangled, his posture painfully tense.

You felt a sick sense of relief after seeing him, despite his appearance. But most of all you felt angry. You felt everything all at once, a hot rush of emotions almost too intense to handle.

Jisung avoided your gaze completely. He picked at the food in front of him, not really eating, just pushing it around his plate.

He felt you approaching before you spoke. Your scent hit him first, warm and familiar, yet unbearably intense. His jaw clenched tight, fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He didn’t look up even when you stood near him. He simply couldn’t trust himself to see your face and not fall apart.

You called his name quietly and he almost cried at the sound of your voice. But he didn’t move, not even when you stepped closer.

Slowly, he raised his head, gaze finally meeting yours You went still, eyes widening just slightly. He knew instantly what you saw—the darkness in his stare, the shadowed bruises, the fresh scars. The way he looked wrong.

He couldn’t bear your pained eyes, so he snapped at you. Something he’d never do before, but Snape told him to deflect. So he yelled and walked away, trying to ignore how hurt you looked.

This was what Snape meant. You’re not safe around her.

You couldn’t eat after that. Not with the way he’d looked at you.

Jisung had always been soft-spoken, a little awkward, a little shy—but never cold. And you didn’t need a Healer to tell you that whatever he’d gone through wasn’t some stomach bug or routine cold. You weren’t stupid.

You saw the tremble in his fingers when he reached for his fork. You saw the way he flinched when someone behind him dropped their goblet. You saw the bruises just under his collar and the bandages.

Something happened to him.

You sat back down but your heart was still up at the other end of the table with him.

“I need to know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Renjun.

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Don’t say it,” you snapped quietly. “Don’t say I should give him time. Don’t say he’ll come around. I know him, Renjun. He’s scared. You don’t just disappear for a week and come back with claw marks on you neck.”

Renjun went quiet.

That silence told you more than anything else.

“Okay, I’m tired of this… You know something, don’t you?”

He avoided your gaze. “It’s not my place to say.��

That hurt. “Is it mine to not know?”

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “If no one’s going to tell me the truth, I’ll figure it out myself.”

Over the next few days, you tried to get close to Jisung in every way you could think of. You waited for him outside the greenhouses after Herbology, hoping to catch him alone. You switched seats in Charms just to be nearer, and sometimes you even loitered in the corridor after Potions, telling yourself you’d walk him back to the common room.

Despite your best efforts, he continually slipped away.

He offered awkward excuses about having somewhere to be, or sometimes said nothing at all and just walked past. Most of the time, he barely managed to look at you, as if doing so caused him physical pain. This wasn’t an icy kind of avoidance, nor was it tinged with anger. It felt worse than either of those possibilities—it was as though he found everything about you unbearable, but still couldn’t muster the energy to explain why.

Once, you nearly cornered him after lunch. He was leaning against the corridor wall outside the Great Hall, head tipped back, looking utterly exhausted. In that unguarded moment, your eyes met his, and you thought you glimpsed your old friend beneath the tension he carried. Summoning the nerve you’d been collecting all day, you stepped forward.

“Can we talk?” you asked softly.

For a split second, it seemed like he might say yes. His mouth opened as though he wanted to form the words but then Professor Snape’s voice echoed from behind you.

“Miss Y/N.”

You turned around to find Snape standing there, unruffled as always, robes hanging in sharp lines. He inclined his head in an almost polite manner yet still carried the weight of an order.

“I need you to come to the dungeons,” he said in a measured tone. “There are ingredients that require sorting. I trust your handwriting is still legible.”

You tried to protest, but as soon as you turned back, Jisung had vanished. From that moment on, it became a pattern: every time you got too close to him, Snape appeared with some new task for you—an extended office hour to discuss a mistake in an essay, a request to reorganize outdated potions, or a perfectly timed interruption just as you were about to speak with Jisung privately.

On a rational level, you knew it was ridiculous to think Snape was orchestrating this on purpose; however, it was impossible to ignore how consistently he managed to swoop in whenever you finally had a chance to approach Jisung alone. You didn’t know why your professor was so intent on calling you away, and truthfully it wasn’t the main issue gripping your mind.

All you could focus on was Jisung.

He looked so different—worn down, scared, ashamed, like he was carrying a secret that weighed on his shoulders every moment of the day. Every time you tried to reach him, he withdrew further. It broke your heart, because you weren’t trying to fix him or make him talk if he didn’t want to. You just wanted to be there, to stand by him instead of watching from a distance.

Yet no matter how hard you tried, the boy who used to seek you out for study breaks and late-night jokes now seemed determined to avoid you. And the more distance he forced, the more you wanted to find out what had really happened, because this Jisung—the one who flinched when you spoke and looked away when you caught his eye—felt like a stranger wearing your best friend’s face.

It was late, far too late for anyone else to be out of bed. So when you heard commotion up in the Astronomy Tower during one of your prefect rounds, you instinctively climbed the stairs to inspect, your wand held loosely in your fingertips.

The castle had felt too quiet lately. Ever since Jisung came back, everything had been off balance. You’d even taken extra patrols just to keep your mind busy. You weren’t expecting to find anything up there except maybe a few rowdy owls.

But when you pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Astronomy Tower, you froze at the sight.

Jisung was there, hunched against the railing, his robes half-open, hands gripping the stone balustrade so tightly you saw his knuckles pale even from across the room.

"Jisung?" you said softly, hesitant.

His head snapped up instantly, and your breath caught in your throat.

His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, irises shimmering unnaturally gold beneath the moonlight. Sweat gleamed across his pale forehead, his hair was messy and damp, sticking to his face. His breathing came harsh and fast, almost feral.

You took a cautious step forward. "Jisung, are you okay?"

"Stay back," he choked out, voice strained and rough. "Don't come closer."

But you saw the tremble in his arms, the feverish brightness in his eyes. He looked sick. He looked scared.

"What’s wrong? Let me help—"

"No." He shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut as if fighting himself. "You can't—I'm not—"

He trailed off, stumbling forward as if pulled by some invisible force toward you. He was breathing heavily, lips parted as he seemed to taste the air between you.

"Jisung—"

Your voice cut off as his gaze snapped sharply to yours again, something raw and dangerous flaring in his eyes. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you instinctively backed away half a step.

"Leave," he hissed, the word barely recognizable through his clenched teeth. His whole body seemed rigid with tension. "Please, leave before—"

He broke off with a gasp, doubling over as though a wave of pain had just wracked through him.

You rushed forward instinctively, panic clouding your caution. "Jisung!"

He moved faster than your eyes could track. One moment he was curled into himself and the next he had you pinned against the cold stone floor, wrists pressed tightly beside your head, his face inches from yours, breath hot and erratic against your neck.

"Ji—" Your voice cracked. "What are you—"

He inhaled deeply against your throat, his body trembling against yours. "God, you smell so—" His voice was ragged and broken, almost a sob. "I can't—I can't stop it, I—"

He pressed closer instinctively, hips pinning you hard against the floor. His lips grazed roughly against your neck, sharp teeth skimming dangerously along your pulse point. Your heart slammed against your ribs, fear tangled confusingly with something hot in your lower belly.

"Jisung, please," you whispered, half plea, half gasp. "You're scaring me."

Those words seemed to pierce through whatever haze had overtaken him. He jerked back, eyes wide, suddenly horrified at himself. His gaze flicked down to your wrists, already bruising beneath his grip, and he stumbled away as if burned.

"No," he whispered, horror and guilt bleeding openly into his expression. "I didn't—I wouldn't—"

You stayed frozen on the floor, chest heaving as you watched the agony twist across his face.

"What’s happening to you?" you breathed, sitting up slowly.

He stared at you, anguished, hands still trembling at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I—I'm so sorry."

Before you could say another word, he turned sharply and bolted down the stairs, leaving you alone, shaking, and terrified.

The Hufflepuff common room was quiet when you walked in. Most students had gone to bed, but Renjun sat alone on the couch.

You didn’t give him a chance to pretend he didn’t see you coming.

“You’re going to tell me what happened.”

Renjun sighed, not looking away from the fire. “Y/N…”

“No,” you said, standing in front of him. “No more deflecting. You’ve known something since the day he came back.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me what you know.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you really think I’m going to stop asking? You’ve seen him. You know he’s not okay. And no one’s saying anything, and I’m losing my mind because—” your voice cracked, just slightly— “because that’s my best friend.”

Renjun’s shoulders slumped. He looked like he aged ten years in a second.

“Seungmin and his friends... they planned something,” he said quietly.

Your chest went still.

“I only heard a conversation between Professor Sprout and Professor Snape,” he continued. “But apparently they were hanging out near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Seungmin gave Jisung something. A potion or… some kind of enchanted hallucinogen.”

Renjun looked up at you, guilt heavy in his eyes even though he hadn’t been there. “They led him into the forest, Y/N… And something attacked him.”

You stared at him, voice thick with dread. “Something?”

Renjun hesitated. “Snape... Snape was the one who found him.”

You felt cold all over. “What was it?”

He looked away.

“Renjun. What was it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“A werewolf.”

A gasp got stuck in your throat.

“I don’t know how bad it was,” Renjun said softly. “But apparently Professor Snape had to lock him up for a week while he went through the transformation.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to believe it myself….”

You sank into the chair across from him, everything too heavy to stand.

“A werewolf,” you whispered.

He nodded and suddenly, so many things clicked at once. Suddenly it all made sense.

After Renjun told you, you couldn’t sleep.

You sat in your bed staring at the ceiling until the sun started bleeding through the windows, and then you slipped out of the dorms without a word. You went straight to the library and stayed there all morning.

Madam Pince gave you a curious glance when you asked to go into the Restricted Section after looking through every other possible book in the regular shelves and finding nothing of value. You dropped Professor Babbling’s name as your excuse—said you were doing independent research for an Arithmancy paper. She didn’t ask further, just handed you a list of approved titles and waved you through.

You didn’t touch a single one of them. Instead, you searched for everything you could find on werewolves.

They were mostly old, dusty books with creaking spines and brittle pages. Most seemed to be more folklore than facts but you found a text buried near the bottom of a shelf, half its title burned off the spine.

Lycanthropy and Lunar Madness: A Clinical Compendium.

The chapters were brutal. You read about the first changes, the muscle pain, the sensory overload. The way magic in the blood would flare, fight back, burn from the inside out. You read about the violence, how the mind slips away when the full moon peaks, how instincts override everything else.

But what caught your atention the most was this:

“In cases of recent infection, the afflicted may experience an attraction fixation, often triggered by proximity to a familiar person. This response is especially common in individuals whose first transformation occurs during adolescence or early adulthood.

The instinct is not always sexual, but it is always possessive. The werewolf’s senses recognize the person as a source of comfort or danger. When comfort, the fixation can lead to obsessive behavior, rut-like symptoms, and irrational aggression if the person is perceived as threatened or unattainable. When danger, it can lead to avoidance or attack. Scent is the most common anchor. Once imprinted, it is nearly impossible for the werewolf to ignore.”

Your throat tightened. You re-read the paragraph five times.

It made sense, too much sense. His distance, his flinching, the way he couldn’t look at you anymore.

Your scent.

You remembered how he looked at you that morning in the Great Hall. How he barely breathed when you stood too close and how he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you asked what happened. And last night in the Atronomy Tower, he said you smelled good and it looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

You closed the book with shaky hands and then checked out four more. You didn’t stop reading until your eyes blurred. You didn’t eat or go to class.

By the time the sky outside the window started darkening, you were sitting at a corner table, surrounded by open tomes and loose parchment covered in frantic notes—everything you could find about Wolfsbane, Snape’s potion-making reputation, the legal status of werewolves in magical Britain, and every known case of student infection in the last fifty years.

You turned the page again.

Magical Intervention

“Wolfsbane Potion, taken daily during the week of the full moon, prevents transformation but does not erase the instinctual response. It is crucial that young werewolves are supervised during their first year of turning, especially if they experience early signs of rut.

If left unmonitored, the werewolf may become a threat not only to others—but to themselves.”

You found another book next. Not on lycanthropy, but on magical trauma. It mentioned Professor Snape by name.

“A known expert in dark creatures and cursed bloodlines, Professor Severus Snape has played a role in the treatment and monitoring of several underage werewolf cases, particularly after the war.”

You sat there for a long time, staring at the page, your mind buzzing. Snape knew, he was involved and he wasn’t just keeping the secret, he was managing it.

Which meant whatever happened to Jisung—Snape had seen it before. And he’d chosen not to tell you a thing.

You sat there in silence, your hands numb on the table. Snape had told him to stay away from you, that much was obvious now. But no one had told you what being near him could do.

You weren’t afraid of him. But for the first time, you understood why he was of you.

You left the library as the sky was starting to pale with early morning light, the forbidden books still echoing in your thoughts. You didn’t bother going to class again. You went directly to Snape’s office instead and waited there. When he finally arrived, he paused mid-step at the sight of you.

“Miss Y/N,” he said flatly. “You are not scheduled to meet with me.”

“No,” you said, stepping forward. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your par—”

“Did you know?” you cut in, voice trembling with restrained rage. “Did you know what would happen to him?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“I know that Jisung got attacked by a werewolf.”

Snape stilled.

“I went to the restricted section,” you continued. “I know what werewolves go through. I know about the rut cycle. The way someone can trigger it just by being close… Did you know it would be me?”

He didn’t speak, and that silence was an answer.

You took another step toward him. “You told him to stay away, didn’t you?”

Still silent.

You laughed bitterly. “What, were you going to wait until I ended up on the courtyard floor with his teeth in my neck before you decided to warn me?”

“Lower your voice,” Snape said sharply, eyes flicking toward the empty corridor.

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do now when you left me in the dark about everything.”

“He is alive and you’re safe because of me,” he said sharply. “Do not mistake silence for neglect.”

“He’s barely alive,” you fired back. “He’s walking around like a ghost and you expect me to believe that’s your idea of help?”

“You think you want the truth but the truth is messy and dangerous. And the truth, Miss Y/N…” he stalked closer to you, almost menacingly “… is that your friend is not who he was anymore.”

“I know that!” you shouted, voice cracking. “But you made him think he was dangerous.”

“He is.”

“No,” you said fiercely. “He’s just scared and you’re feeding it.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what a werewolf in rut is capable of.”

“I do now.” You stepped closer again, voice trembling. “I’m not stupid or fragile. And I’m not going to stay away just because you think it’s better that way.”

“Miss Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t “protect me” by locking him away like some creature. He’s not a danger to me. What’s dangerous is isolating him, making him ashamed of something he didn’t choose.”

Snape’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“And what will you do, then?” he asked. “If he loses control?”

“I’ll help him.” You exhaled, hands trembling. “I’m not afraid of him and he needs someone who isn’t.”

There was a long pause. Snape looked at you with something like pitty. Then he spoke, carefully.

“Then you’d better learn how to handle what’s coming.”

Knowing about Jisung’s condition didn’t bring the relief you thought it would. If anything, it made everything worse. Because now you understood that there was almost nothing you could do to save him from himself. And, like Professor Snape said, the safest option was to stay far away.

And you tried, but it was so hard.

You'd find yourself turning to complain about Professor Binns's endless lectures, only to realize it wasn't Jisung beside you, but Renjun—quiet, studious Renjun who never dared utter a complaint in class.

Or when you walked toward the kitchens out of habit, thinking maybe you'd sweet-talk the elves into some pumpkin tarts, only to remember it was Jisung who always did the charming.

Or when the night sky looked especially clear and you found yourself wanting to stargaze but realizing no one else knew how to trace constellations on your palm with their fingertip. And you couldn’t even remember their names without Jisung pointing them out to you.

Renjun tried. He filled the empty seat at meals, nodded at the right moments when you rambled, even agreed to sneak out once or twice. But he wasn’t Jisung. He didn’t know your weird inside jokes, didn’t lean his head on your shoulder when he got sleepy, didn’t touch your wrist when you got nervous.

You missed him so deeply it ached.

So, when you saw him slipping out of the common room one night you followed him without a second thought.

He moved quickly across the grounds, his hooded shape skimming the moonlit grass. You jogged to keep up, keeping low behind hedges and statues until he stopped beside the Whomping Willow. Your breath caught as he pressed a knot at the roots and the tree froze mid‑sway, its branches locking in eerie stillness. Then, an entrance yawned open.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed that going after him was a terrible idea. But the thought of him hurting or worse, hurting alone was too much to bear.

So you followed.

The tunnel led you into the Shrieking Shack. A chill raced down your spine the moment you stepped inside. Rot and mildew clung to the walls, the floorboards seemed like they would give way with each step, and it smelled like old nightmares in there. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from gagging but you kept going, following the sounds of his ragged breathing upstairs into a dusty room.

You opened the door cautiously, barely an inch—but before you could fully register what was happening, Jisung lunged. He grabbed your arm, yanking you roughly inside and pinning you to the sagging mattress with a strength that startled you.

"Jisung—!" you gasped.

He loomed over you, eyes wild, glowing gold in the darkness. His expression was pained, almost feral.

"What—are you doing here?" he growled through gritted teeth. His voice was deep and barely recognizable.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed. “I—I was worried. You missed all your classes…”

Something dark flared in his gaze, and he dropped his head, panting harshly against your throat. He inhaled deeply, shuddering as he pressed closer instinctively. Your breath hitched sharply, your body reacting involuntarily to his closeness.

"You shouldn't have come," he whispered brokenly, hands trembling where they gripped your wrists.

You swallowed, feeling his hips press involuntarily against yours and realizing exactly what was happening.

"Your rut," you whispered breathlessly, realization flooding you. "It's started, hasn't it?"

A helpless whimper slid from his throat as his hips rocked against you once more, his erection pressing unmistakably through his trousers. The desperate sound he made sent heat pooling in your stomach, despite the fear and confusion swirling inside you.

“You smell so fucking… good” He let out another ragged noise, and you reached out instinctively, resting a trembling hand against his cheek. His skin burned under your palm. He looked almost delirious, golden eyes flickering between human fear and something more feral.

You’d spent the past week reading about werewolves and their ruts, absorbing every detail you could from hidden texts and restricted tomes. You knew that once the rut hit, the urge for physical intimacy would become nearly unbearable. You also knew it was dangerous for you to be near him like this.

But as you stared at your best friend, trembling and half-broken with need, your heart clenched. You couldn’t just walk away.

“Jisung,” you said carefully, your voice shaking. “Did you take the Wolfsbane?”

He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t know… I think I didn’t—” He broke off, a pained groan tearing from his throat as he rocked forward, hips searching for contact.

Swallowing hard, you remembered the passage in the book. How an afflicted werewolf needed a trusted partner to help ease the rut’s consuming effects.

It felt like your heart was in your mouth.

“You—” he gasped, voice faint. “You can’t stay. I—if I hurt you—”

You cupped his other cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours. “You won’t,” you promised, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, hips rutting forward again. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now, I swear—”

“I want to help you,” you said softly. “Please let me.”

His pupils dilated immediately and he let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming but despite your own hammering pulse, you didn’t draw away.

Because somewhere deep inside, you knew this was the only way to help him.

His grip on your waist was bruising, claws just barely retracted. His body was sweat-slicked and trembling, panting through gritted teeth as he pressed himself flush against you.

“I warned you,” he growled, voice shaky with restraint. “I told you to leave.”

You pulled him closer up and felt how he shook under your touch. “You can have me”

He didn’t wait another second. Your clothes were suddenly nothing, the fabric ripped under his desperate hands. Your skin was bare before you had time to register the sound of seams tearing. His mouth found your throat instinctively, tongue tasting your pulse before he bit.

You winced at the pain and his hips rutted against your thigh, hard and frantic, his cock felt thick and straining through his trousers. He was whining soft, broken sounds between gritted teeth, like each second without you wrapped around him was tearing him open from the inside.

“You smell—fuck, you smell so good,” he gasped into your skin, humping against you harder. “I need—i need to be inside, I need—”

You spread your legs, breathless, head spinning from the force of it all. “I’m here, Sungie.”

He didn’t prep you, didn’t pause for a second—just spit on his fingers and shoved them inside you hard and fast. Stretching you wide while whispering obscenities you couldn’t even make sense of.

“So fucking tight—fuck—gonna ruin you—fill you up, knot you, make sure no one else ever gets to—”

You didn’t even realize he’d taken his cock out until you felt him line himself up with shaking hands, barely getting the tip in before he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out and Jisung growled, slamming his hand beside your head, forehead pressed to yours, golden eyes glazed over.

“Mine,” he gasped. “Fuck… Mine. Mine. Mine—”

Suddenly, he shoved your knees up, pressing them tightly to your chest as his hips snapped forward, rough and desperate. You cried out sharply, feeling stretched too wide, overwhelmed by the rawness of him filling you again and again. His teeth dragged harshly against your throat, marking you repeatedly, as if he couldn't bear the thought of anyone mistaking you for anything but his.

You sobbed beneath him, your body caught between pain and a pleasure that blurred into something unbearable. Part of you wondered numbly if it would have changed anything if you'd told Jisung it was your first time—if it would've made him pause, slow down, be gentler. But you knew it wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't fully himself, and even if some part of him wanted to stop, he couldn't.

You felt it then, the swelling at his base. His knot beginning to expand, stretching your entrance wider with every punishing thrust. Panic mixed with need, your mind spinning as your walls spasmed around him.

“Gonna knot you,” he panted desperately, voice breaking as he slammed into you harder. “Can’t stop—fuck, you feel so perfect—gonna keep you like this forever—”

He thrust deeply one last time and locked himself inside, his knot catching and sealing him within you. You screamed, body jolting at the sudden fullness, the pressure almost too much. He shuddered violently above you, his cum flooding hot and deep, twitching through aftershocks that made your thighs quake and your vision blur.

You barely had time to gasp a breath before his knot began to soften, still pulsing faintly inside you. But Jisung didn’t stop, not even for a moment.

Before you could recover, he flipped you roughly onto your stomach, the mattress creaking sharply beneath you. He pressed into you again slowly, his breathing ragged and hot against your sweat-damp back. You trembled uncontrollably beneath him, arms shaking, barely able to keep yourself upright.

“Jisung, wait—” your voice broke, a thin plea lost beneath the rasp of his breath.

But he didn’t acknowledge your begging. One hand pinned your hip firmly, the other flattened between your shoulders, forcing you down into the sheets until you couldn’t move. You felt the ache building again as he pushed inside you once more, pushing mercilessly against your walls. Your thighs burned, your body instinctively arching to escape the overstimulation, but he wouldn’t allow you to shift away.

The moment he felt how wet and open you still were, the last shred of his restraint shattered. His rhythm turned frantic, his hips slamming into yours so fiercely the air was knocked from your lungs with every brutal stroke.

You moaned helplessly into the sheets, fingers clawing at the mattress as your body surrendered. He wasn’t speaking now, wasn’t asking if you were okay—all you heard were harsh, ragged sounds torn from his throat, desperate noises so primal and raw they made your skin burn hot with shameful need.

His movements grew rougher, your bodies locked in a rhythm that erased any remaining thought from your mind. Your senses narrowed until all you knew was the brutal heat between your thighs and the ache of him stretching you. You took every thrust, helpless to stop, unable to do anything but accept the ruthless force of his body on yours.

His teeth bit sharply into the back of your shoulder, fangs scraping against your skin until you gasped in pain. His grip tightened, fingers bruising your hips as he pounded into you without mercy, branding you with every brutal snap of his hips.

With one final thrust, he buried himself impossibly deep, and you felt the knot swell again—filling you, stretching you beyond limits as he locked himself inside with a guttural growl.

His whole body jerked, cock throbbing violently as he spilled into you again. It was so much cum it leaked around the thick swell of his knot, your walls clenching tight, helpless to hold it all in. He held still, panting, hands trembling as he stayed buried in you, locked and pulsing.

He stayed inside you for what felt like forever, body trembling from release, your muscles fluttering weakly around him. His breath came in uneven bursts against your skin.

But even then, you could feel that he wasn’t finished.

He rutted again and let out a feral sound low in his throat, one that sounded more like a growl than a moan. And then he was moving just enough to slip free with a wet sound that made both of you shiver.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you. He dragged you onto your back again, spread your thighs wide, and settled between them with a single-minded hunger that made your whole body pulse with anticipation.

His gaze dropped the moment he pushed back in and he groaned, eyes locked between your legs with an obsessive intensity. Your walls clenched around him as his cock slid in with zero resistance. His breath hitched, and he stopped for just a second.

His mouth parted when he saw the shape of him pushing inside you, deep enough to press against your belly, the bulge rising with every brutal thrust. He pressed his palm against it and let out a wrecked moan. The sight of his cock inside your belly driving him halfway mad.

“Fuck,” he choked. “That's me? inside you?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a gasp as he rocked into you harder.

He watched your stomach move with every stroke, how your cunt took all of him, again and again, walls fluttering around his cock like your body was desperate to keep him.

He was mesmerized. Staring with wide, hungry eyes as hips snapped forward with more force. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other pressing to your lower belly as he kept thrusting, rougher this time, watching the bulge disappear and return with every movement.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “you’re made for this—fuck—you’re made to take me like this—”

You could feel the knot swelling again, dragging harder against your soaked, overstretched entrance, until your legs started to shake. He braced both hands on either side of your hips, growled deep in his chest, and slammed forward. The knot forced its way in with a brutal stretch that made your eyes roll back.

His whole body jerked, head falling forward as a strangled moan left his lips. His cock twitched violently, knot fully buried, and you felt the rush of his cum flooding you again, deeper this time, deeper than anything had ever been.

His eyes were still locked on your lower stomach, wide and blown out with awe. The bulge in your belly pulsed with each twitch of his knot, round and taut with the sheer amount he’d pumped into you

“Look at that,” he whispered, almost dazed. “Look what I did to you.”

He reached out again, fingertips brushing against your stomach and the possessiveness in his voice made your body clench all over again.

“I'm inside you.”

He blinked, his eyes flickering to your face as he really looked at you for the first time.

You were trembling, bruised, and barely able to keep your legs from shaking. Your eyes were glassy, your body completely spent beneath him. And something in him seemed to return.

His hands gentled against your skin as he eased out of you slowly, knot slipping free with an aching stretch that made you whimper. You gasped at the sudden emptiness, but he didn’t leave you long. He kissed your thigh once, softly, as if in apology, and then lowered himself between your legs.

You barely had the strength to lift your head. “Ji—what are you doing…”

But he didn’t answer. Just held your thighs gently in his hands, spreading them open again but this time with reverence, not greed.

Then he licked a single, languid drag of his tongue that made your hips twitch weakly. He groaned low in his throat at the taste of you.

You whimpered, the oversensitivity almost unbearable but his hands kept you grounded. Thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, mouth moving with an aching kind of care. He sucked gently at your clit, tongue flicking in slow passes, easing the pain into something warmer.

You threaded trembling fingers through his hair, tugging gently.

His mouth grew more desperate by the second, tongue dipping lower and teasing at your entrance where his cum was still leaking out. He groaned at the taste, sucking softly, messy and slow, like he couldn’t get enough of it. Of you.

He buried himself there with his nose pressed into your skin, mouth drinking you. You let out a soft cry, hips twitching against his face, and his grip tightened just enough to hold you still as he circled your clit again, tender but insistent.

“I need to make it better,” he murmured into your skin, voice hoarse and reverent. “Let me—please…”

You didn’t answer but the way your legs shook around his head told him everything. So he stayed there—worshipping the mess he made, tongue moving slow and devoted, lips soft and endless. He lost himself in you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pain.

It was deep and dull at first, but the moment you shifted, it sharpened—radiating through your thighs, your lower back, your hips. Your skin felt hot, stretched too thin in some places, sore in others. You winced as you tried to sit up, limbs trembling slightly from the effort.

Jisung was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from you, his robes wrapped tightly around him. His shoulders were stiff.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat. “Ji?”

He stood up without looking at you.

You watched him move across the room, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. He picked up your clothes from the floor—torn in multiple places, seams ripped from how desperately he’d removed them the night before—and with a flick of his wand, the fabric mended itself slowly in the air.

“Get dressed,” he said flatly. “I’ll help you get back to the hospital wing.”

You blinked. “Back to the—what?”

He turned then, just slightly, just enough to look at you briefly. His eyes were guilt-ridden.

“You’re hurt,” he said. “I can see it.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“And I’m going to Snape later,” he continued. “I’m going to ask him to relocate me during the next cycle. Somewhere far from here.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Jisung, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he snapped. “Because this—” He gestured toward you, his voice colder now. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Your heart twisted.

“I told you to stay away,” he said. “And I didn’t mean that to sound cruel. I meant it because I knew I’d lose control. And I did… and now look at you.”

He walked toward the cracked mirror, stopped a few feet in front of it, and gestured for you to come closer.

You hesitated.

“Please,” he said, quieter now. “Just… come here.”

You stood slowly, legs shaking slightly under your weight. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and stepped toward the mirror.

Your reflection made your breath hitch.

There were bruises on your neck, angry bite marks along your collarbone and shoulder. Finger-shaped welts on your hips and thighs. Your lips were still swollen from where he’d kissed you too hard. Some of the marks looked deep. Others looked like they might last days, if not longer.

“I didn’t know I was capable of this,” Jisung said behind you, voice cracking.

You looked at him through the mirror. His face was pale, jaw tight.

“I’d rather suffer the worst pain a rut could ever give me than ever touch you like that again.”

“Jisung—”

“No,” he cut you off. “You don’t understand. I didn’t even care if I was hurting you. I couldn’t think. You could’ve cried, begged, screamed, and I still would’ve—”

He stopped himself, breathing hard.

“I’m not going to let this happen again. I’ll talk to Snape. I’ll take whatever dose he gives me. I’ll lock myself somewhere no one can find me.”

You stepped forward, reaching for him, but he flinched when your fingers brushed his sleeve.

He turned his face away. “Get dressed,” he said quietly. “Please.”

There was nothing else to say.

He handed you your clothes without looking at you again. When you were dressed, he silently moved to support your weight down the stairs and back toward the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow.

Your legs ached with every step. Jisung’s arm was around your waist, holding you upright as you moved slowly down the path back to the castle, your freshly repaired clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable against your bruised skin.

You hadn’t said a word since leaving the Shrieking Shack. Neither had he.

His touch wasn’t warm, or comforting. It was careful and detached. Like he was holding you not out of care, but out of obligation.

Your heart hurt more than your body. You two had been close for so long. Even after he’d changed, after he came back cold, distant, guarded you still felt more warmth than right now. Like he was reaching for you even when he didn’t realize it. So seeing him acting like this was almost unbearable.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t rejection or shame. That he was just protecting you, trying to keep you safe. But it still felt like being left behind.

You didn’t even realize how close you were to the castle until the path curved and the first archway of the courtyard came into view.

“Park.”

Professor Snape stood just beyond the arch, his arms crossed over his chest, black robes billowing faintly in the wind. His gaze flicked over the two of you quickly. His eyes dropped to the way you leaned into Jisung, to your limp. And then he saw the bruises. Even with your collar pulled tight, they peeked out, the edges of bite marks and the faint discoloration just beneath the skin.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Come here,” he said, voice cold.

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape stepped forward. “Now.”

You felt the panic rise in your chest immediately.

“Professor, wait. It’s not—he didn’t—” You reached for his sleeve. “He didn’t force me.”

Snape’s eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you almost stepped back. His expression didn’t change, but something in it darkened like your words had confirmed what he already suspected.

“I didn’t ask what he did,” he said sharply. “I asked him to come with me.”

Jisung’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful. He didn’t say a word, just let go of you carefully.

You nearly stumbled from the sudden absence of support.

“I can explain—” you tried again, but Snape raised a hand.

“This is not your responsibility,” he said, more quietly this time. “And you are in no condition to be standing here arguing.”

He turned to Jisung once more.

“Park. Now.”

And without looking back at you, Jisung walked toward him.

You stood there trembling, arms wrapped around yourself, the chill settling deeper into your bones now that he was gone.

Jisung stood in the doorway of Snape’s office with his head hung low. The potions master had stepped away to ensure you made it safely to the hospital wing and to explain the delicate situation to the healers. Minutes stretched on endlessly until finally, he heard the sharp clack of Snape's shoes approaching.

“Go in,” Snape ordered coldly, gesturing toward the open door. The Hufflepuff obeyed silently.

Snape shut the office door behind them with a flick of his wand. The room smelled of ash and damp parchment, but Jisung could still smell your scent stronger than anything else; it clung to him, saturated his senses.

“Sit,” Snape instructed curtly.

Jisung lowered himself into the hard chair opposite the desk, shoulders slumped. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Snape’s eyes.

“How is she?” he asked softly, voice raw.

“She’ll live,” Snape replied coolly, summoning a few vials and herbs onto his desk. “Madam Pomfrey is treating the bruising you saw fit to decorate her with.”

Jisung’s head snapped up, panic clear in his gaze. “I—I bit her. More than once.” The admission spilled out before he could stop himself, heavy with guilt and shame. “Does that mean—”

“No,” Snape interjected sharply. “The curse passes only when the biter is fully transformed under the full moon. You were saturated with Wolfsbane, half-shifted but not contagious.”

Jisung exhaled sharply, gripping the chair arms until his knuckles whitened. Relief flooded him, but Snape wasn't done.

“However,” Snape continued, voice lowering dangerously, “do not delude yourself into believing she was truly safe. Had you missed even one additional dose, or had the moon been at its peak, she would already share your curse, and that responsibility would lie entirely with you.”

Jisung flinched. “I know. I—I keep hurting her. I keep losing control, and no matter how much I try to stay away, something just…pulls me back. I don’t know how to stop it.”

Snape regarded him for a moment in silence before speaking, voice softer but still edged with steel. “That’s because it is no longer a matter of mere control. You've complicated things significantly, Park.”

Jisung looked up slowly, eyes wide with apprehension. “What do you mean?”

Snape folded his hands on the desk, expression severe yet composed. “By marking her during your rut, you've effectively chosen Miss Y/N as your mate.”

Jisung’s breath caught, his throat tightening painfully. "Mate? I—what does that mean?”

“It means,” Snape explained, calm and clinical, “that your wolf has identified her specifically as an anchor. Such mate-bonds occur most commonly during adolescence, particularly around a first transformation. It's why you find yourself physically unable to stay away for long.”

Jisung swallowed, panic bubbling up again. “Is it dangerous? Will I hurt her more?”

“Not inherently,” Snape said evenly. “But the bond is permanent, Park. Your wolf will always crave her presence—most intensely near the full moon or during rut. Ignoring it will only worsen your aggression.”

“Then…what can I do?” Jisung asked desperately. “How do I keep her safe?”

“You must never skip your Wolfsbane. Take it every evening at sundown and report to me regularly so we can adjust dosage accordingly. Furthermore, and pay attention to this, you must manage your bond carefully. You cannot fight it entirely so stay close to her but with awareness, not indulgence. ”

Jisung flushed deeply. “But… after everything I've done, how can I risk being close to her again?”

Snape leaned forward slightly. “The greater risk lies in distance, your instincts will spiral. Proximity is crucial but do not confuse instinct for entitlement.”

Jisung nodded slowly, the weight of responsibility settling heavily onto his shoulders. “Does she…know?”

“She soon will,” Snape replied quietly. “But it is essential she hears it clearly from you. Be honest and thorough. Do you understand me, Park?”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung whispered. “I won't fail her again.”

Snape regarded him a moment longer, then produced a fresh vial of Wolfsbane, setting it decisively on the desk. “Good. Now leave before I decide silence is insufficient punishment.”

Jisung rose unsteadily, clutching the vial to his chest. He walked slowly to the threshold, feeling every step heavy with responsibility. Just as he reached the door, Snape spoke once more.

“Park, if you truly care for the girl, learn how to live with the wolf without letting it consume her.”

The door sealed shut behind him, and Jisung stood for a long moment in the corridor, the potion trembling slightly in his grip.

You lay on one of the hospital wing beds, half-covered by a sterile white blanket, the curtains drawn tightly around you. The air was too quiet, every sound outside muted by the silencing charm Madam Pomfrey had casted when she left you there.

You picked at your cuticles absently, barely noticing the sting where skin peeled back. Your hospital gown gaped at the shoulders, revealing the bruises along your arms in the shape of fingers. Jisung’s fingers. You should’ve been horrified and maybe you were a little bit but there was something strangely comforting about them. His hands had held you through something painful, but they had held you. It made you feel... needed. Like you mattered to him again.

Your thoughts scattered when the curtain parted and Madam Pomfrey stepped through, her face tight with concern. Behind her came Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house. And just before the curtain fell shut again, you caught the edge of black robes retreating down the ward—Snape. He’d definitely told them everything.

You bit your lip and dropped your gaze.

“Hello, dear,” Pomfrey said gently. When you didn’t answer, she cleared her throat. “To begin with, I’d like to offer you a calming draught for the pain.”

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, though your whole body ached. You didn’t want to take anything that would fog your thoughts. You needed to stay alert to explain the situation.

“Well…” she murmured, unconvinced. “Then I’ll start with the surface wounds.”

She gestured toward the scratches and crescent-shaped bites along your shoulders and collarbone. You stayed still while she worked.

Professor Sprout stepped closer, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Miss Y/LN,” she began carefully. “There’s no need to be guarded with us. We’re not here to punish you… but there are a few matters that need to be addressed.”

You nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the bedsheet.

“Madam Pomfrey will heal what she can,” she continued. “But the bite marks will take several days to fade. Magical injuries of this nature are… stubborn.”

“I understand,” you murmured. The marks didn’t bother you.

Professor Sprout hesitated, color rising faintly in her cheeks. “We also understand that Mr. Park was… in a heightened state when you were intimate.”

You saw her flinch slightly at her own words and you almost pitied her. There was no elegant way to discuss something like this. You nodded once.

“Am I correct to assume no contraceptive charms were cast beforehand?”

Your brows pulled together. You’d never studied contraceptive spells properly. You knew they were meant to be used before any intimacy though and given how everything had happened there hadn’t been time for anything like that. You shook your head slowly.

Professor Sprout exchanged a brief look with Pomfrey before exhaling slowly. “Very well. Madam Pomfrey will now perform a diagnostic charm to ensure no unintended consequences arise from your… encounter.”

You nodded again, tending slight when Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and murmured a spell. A pale lavender glow swept across your lower abdomen then faded without a flicker.

“No conception,” she announced softly. “Everything is normal.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out and you noticed Professor Sprout’s shoulders ease a fraction.

Pomfrey lowered her wand, relief softening the stern set of her mouth. Then she hesitated, studying you over the rims of her spectacles.

“Dear, may I give you some practical advice?”

You nodded, cheeks still furiously warm.

She lifted her wand again. “There are several reliable contraceptive charms you can use. The simplest is Praeventa Conceptum. It’s quick, painless, and lasts a whole day.”

Professor Sprout cleared her throat delicately but said nothing.

Pomfrey demonstrated. She pointed her wand at her own midsection. “Circle once, clockwise, like so.” A pale halo of light traced the motion. “Then speak Prae‑ven‑ta Con‑cep‑tum. Stress on the second syllable of each word. The charm settles just beneath the skin and it’s a mild warming sensation, nothing more.”

You mimicked the motion in the air, whispering the incantation under your breath. A faint peach‑colored glow sparked at your wand tip and faded.

“Good,” Madam Pomfrey said, satisfied. “Remember, the charm must be renewed daily, and it is far more reliable when cast prior to any sexual activity.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, both grateful and faintly embarrassed.

Professor Sprout offered a small, reassuring nod. “Better to learn here than under far less ideal circumstances.”

Pomfrey tucked her wand away. “Knowledge is its own protection.”

“Again, you are not at fault for any of this,” Sprout added, voice firm. “Last night’s events were influenced by circumstances far beyond your control.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly.

A shadow crossed the professor’s eyes. “Mr. Park is with Professor Snape now, discussing the seriousness of missing future doses of Wolfsbane.” Her tone suggested ‘discussion’ meant something closer to a dressing‑down. “He’ll be monitored closely.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” you said, fingers worrying the edge of the sheet. “I followed him there, fully aware of the consequences. I just wanted to help… and I don’t regret it.”

Madam Pomfrey’s brows knit, but it was Professor Sprout who spoke first. “Miss Y/L/N, no one here is assigning blame. What matters now is that both of you are safe, and that Mr. Park remains diligent with his potion.” Her gaze softened. “Your loyalty is commendable, but your well‑being is equally important.”

You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. “I know.”

Pomfrey dabbed a final line of salve across the deepest bite mark. “You’ll be sore,” she said gently, “but you’ll heal. Rest here tonight, at least until breakfast.”

The curtain swayed gently as they left you alone, and you stared ahead thinking only of the warmth of his breath, the panic in his voice, and the way he’d whispered “you shouldn’t have come” like it had broken him to see you there.

But you would do it all again.

Madam Pomfrey cleared you for release just after sunrise. You dressed in silence, fingers brushing over the gauze she’d left on the deepest bite. She offered one last vial of bruise balm and a faint smile before sending you off.

It was Saturday, thank Merlin. There were no classes so most students were still sleeping. You were relieved as you stepped out of the hospital wing, and saw nothing but an empty corridor.

Though still a strange, hollow pressure settled in your chest. You missed Jisung.

You weren’t sure if it was the residual ache in your muscles, or the fading imprints he’d left on your body, but you felt the absence of him like it was stitched into your skin. You needed to see him.

And then, as if your thoughts conjured him, he appeared.

Jisung was standing at the other end of the hallway, just beyond the shaft of sunlight spilling in from the tall windows. He looked stunned to see you, like he hadn’t meant to be here, like his feet had brought him without his permission.

You hesitated.

Snape had surely warned him again—more strictly this time—to stay away from you. But still, Jisung took a step forward and you followed.

You met in the middle of the hallway, stopping close enough that your chests nearly touched. It wasn’t until you were standing in front of him that you realized how much he’d changed. He was taller now, just slightly, but it was enough to notice. His shoulders were broader, his presence heavier, like the wolf was still there beneath the surface.

He stared at the bruises along your collarbone, what little was visible through the open neck of your shirt. You saw the way his throat bobbed, how his eyes flickered with guilt.

“Are you—?”

“I’m okay, Ji,” you cut in gently, offering him a small smile. “Perfectly fine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He exhaled shakily, and his hand reached for yours tentatively. You almost gasped at the contact. It had been so long since he touched you first. His fingers threaded through yours like they were remembering how easily he did this all the time before.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your other hand rose instinctively, brushing against his cheek. He leaned into the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed.

“Did Snape scold you too badly?” you asked, voice soft and teasing.

Jisung cracked a smile. “Yeah, I have to clean the Quidditch stands every day this winter without magic.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “I’m joking.” He paused, eyes searching yours. “Though honestly… I think I deserved one.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve been punished enough.”

He didn’t respond, just looked at you like he was still trying to figure out if this moment was real.

The corridor felt suddenly too small, so without speaking, you guided Jisung toward the nearest side door that opened onto the courtyard. The November air was sharp, but sunlight spilled across damp flagstones and carried the faint scent of wet leaves.

You walked side by side, your shoulders brushing now and then. After a long stretch of silence, Jisung spoke in a quiet voice. “Do you remember fifth year… when we hid in Greenhouse Three during that thunderstorm?”

You smiled. “And you spent the whole time pretending not to be scared of lightning.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I kept thinking about that last night. How you held my hand and told me storms always pass.” He glanced at you, guilt and wonder warring in his eyes. “I wanted to go there initially. But then I smelled you, and I went to the Shack instead, thinking you wouldn’t follow me into a place like that.” He laughed bitterly. “I should’ve known better.”

The admission loosened something tight inside you. “Storms pass, Ji,” you said. “Even the ones inside us.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully. “Does this one? Because I can still feel it.” His gaze flicked to your neck where a bruise peeked above your collar. “I feel every mark I left on you like they’re on my body, too.”

You lifted a hand to his chest, just over his heartbeat. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He looked at you, like he almost believed it, but the tension in his jaw said otherwise. “Snape told me… the biting… it wasn’t random.” he dropped his gaze and bit his lip nervously “I… marked you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“He said you’re my mate now,” he said quietly. “That the wolf chose you. That’s why I can’t stay away. Why I can’t stop smelling you, hearing you even when you’re not around. Why it feels like something’s ripping open in my chest when I try to stay away.”

You stood still, eyes locked on his.

“He said I shouldn’t fight it. That if I try to pretend the bond doesn’t exist, it’ll make it worse. That I just have to be… careful and gentle with it. With you.” He exhaled, voice tight. “He said if I really want to protect you, I have to learn how to live with the wolf, not push it down.”

“What did you say?” you finally asked.

“I told him I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Jisung said. “And I meant it.”

You reached for his hand and he let you take it, though his fingers twitched.

“The bond… is that why you came to the Hospital Wing corridor?”

He nodded, shame creasing his brow. “I woke up and… I was already walking there. I didn’t think.”

“Then next time, think and tell me,” you said. “We’ll handle the need together. On our terms.”

He swallowed. “Snape says if I miss a potion… you’ll be in danger first.”

“Then you won’t miss it.” Your tone brooked no argument. “Even if I have to brew it myself.”

A faint smile ghosted his lips. “You’d sit through that smell?”

“I’d sit through worse.” Your thumb stroked over his knuckles.

He exhaled shakily, some of the tension easing, though the gold still flickered behind his eyes like embers. “I’m not safe yet,” he warned.

“That’s okay,” you answered, stepping close until your foreheads touched. “I’m not scared.”

For a while you simply stood in the sunlight, listening to the distant chatter of students who knew nothing about storms or wolves or the way a heartbeat could echo in someone else’s chest. His hand tightened around yours, and instinctively you looked up, meeting his gaze.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, hesitation clear in the tense line of his jaw. Before he could withdraw, before he could overthink it, you stepped on your tippy toes and pressed your mouth gently to his.

It began softly, a cautious brush of lips but it escalated quickly. His mouth opened hungrily, tongue sliding against your teeth, and you gave in with a low sigh. His hand found your waist first, pulling you closer, then slid up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangled through his messy hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, hips pressing forward instinctively until you were pinned softly against the rough stone wall.

“I can’t lose control again,” he murmured urgently against your lips but still he kissed you harder, as if he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

“You won’t,” you promised breathlessly. “This is fine.”

His hips snapped forward again, pressing you tighter to the stone behind you. You knew you were out in the open—anyone could pass by and see—but caution melted beneath the heat of his mouth trailing down your neck. The dull soreness from the previous night faded to a faint pulse, replaced by something hungrier, as he sucked gently at your throat.

“Ji—” your voice shook softly, hands gripping his robes tighter. “You’re… you’re not still in rut, right?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “No. No, I don’t think so,” he panted roughly, almost like he was convincing himself too. “It doesn’t feel the same as last night, but—” He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours “I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad—I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you.”

A helpless moan escaped you at the raw admission, your pulse quickening under his mouth when he kissed you again—softer now, more controlled, as if he was proving to himself he could do this without falling apart.

“I won’t let myself hurt you again,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin between each whispered word. “But you need to tell me if it’s too much”

You shook your head slightly, pulling him closer still, holding him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. “Ji, nothing’s ever too much with you. Just stay here… stay with me.”

He shivered, his breath hitching as he kissed you again, trying to ground himself in the feeling of you rather than the wild instinct still whispering beneath his skin.

Someone laughed nearby, close enough to remind you exactly where you were.

Jisung froze against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a soft groan. “We need to move,” he muttered “If anyone sees—”

“Then come on,” you said grabbing his hand.

He followed without another word.

You tugged him along a narrow side-corridor, the secret path behind the Herbology wing that only upper years and rule-breakers bothered with. Past the old broom cupboard, beyond the faded tapestry of a witch laughing drunkenly into her wine goblet, your footsteps were quiet, your pulse anything but. It hammered through your veins, in your fingertips, your throat—everywhere Jisung’s hand stayed locked in yours.

Soon you stood outside Greenhouse Three, abandoned since the storm in your fifth year shattered half its glass panes. Now, ivy and moss crawled along the cracked glass walls, and no one had bothered to repair it, leaving the space forgotten and overgrown.

You slipped through the splintered wooden door, pulling him gently behind you.

Inside, sunlight spilled across broken tables and tangled greenery. Plants had grown wild, illing the air with the scent of damp earth, crushed leaves, and something faintly sweet. You felt your chest tighten from the memory of your younger selves hiding here together.

Jisung remembered it too, you could see it in the softening of his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. He caught your lips again, slow at first, but deepening fast, pulling a moan from your throat. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him in until you tasted him fully.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered against his mouth, fingers trembling as you tugged at his clothes again.

He groaned softly, forehead pressing to yours. “Say it again.”

Your breath shuddered. “I want you to fuck me, Ji. Right now.”

He kissed you once more, messy and desperate, before stepping back just enough to undo his belt. His hands shook slightly, desire evident as he freed his cock—already hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he positioned himself between your thighs. You lay back on one of the old greenhouse tables, cool beneath your skin but sturdy enough for this.

Jisung dragged the head of his cock through your folds, groaning openly at how wet you were, coating him perfectly. He pressed gently against your entrance, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip, thumb stroking tenderly.

He met your gaze, eyes filled with heated care. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, voice thick with want but edged with concern.

You cupped his cheek softly, eyes locked on his. “It’s perfect. It’s always perfect with you…Just fuck me, Ji.”

And he did.

The first thrust was slow, a deep stretch that pulled a gasp straight from your lungs. His cock slid in inch by inch until he bottomed out, and then he just held there, buried inside, groaning like he’d finally found home.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re so tight, you feel so—shit—you feel like you were made for me.”

You clenched around him involuntarily and he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder as he fought the urge to move too fast.

But control didn’t last long. His hips started to roll into yours, picking up a rhythm that got harder with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoed off the glass, mixed with your breathy moans and the desperate groans breaking in his throat.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, dragging him deeper.

“Yes, yes—right there—don’t stop,” you gasped.

“I won’t,” he growled. “I can’t.”

He drove into you harder, the table creaking beneath you as he pounded into your soaked cunt like he was trying to carve the shape of himself into your body. You arched under him, nails raking down his back through his shirt, gasping every time he bottomed out and hit that spot that made your toes curl.

He pulled out just enough to watch his cock slide back in.

“Look at this,” he breathed, one hand dragging down to your stomach, pressing just above your pubic bone. “Can feel myself right here.”

You could tell Jisung was obsessed with seeing himself inside you, it made his thrusts hit deeper just so he could feel himself in your lower belly. You moaned brokenly, the pressure making it worse, the angle driving you insane. 

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna come,” you choked. “Don’t stop—please, don’t—”

“I want to feel it,” he growled. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Your body clamped down around him, walls spasming hard enough to make Jisung curse violently. He fucked you through it, rough thrusts stuttering until his own orgasm took him.

With a strangled groan, he slammed into you one last time and came hard, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you again with thick spurts that made your pussy slicker than before.

He collapsed over you, forehead buried in your neck, both of you panting like you’d run for miles. His cock was still buried inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

You dragged your fingers through his hair gently, voice hoarse. “That didn’t feel like your rut.”

He laughed, breathless. “No. That was just me.”

“Are you okay?” he whispered into your neck, voice raw and reverent. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head slowly. “You didn’t. You were perfect.”

He sighed against your skin, relief loosening his shoulders. Then, gently—so, so gently—he pulled out, groaning as his cock slipped free from your cunt. The mess between your legs was immediate, warmth spilling down your thighs, and you whimpered at the sensitivity.

“I got you,” he murmured, already reaching for his wand.

He muttered a quiet cleaning charm, careful not to touch you until you nodded. His hand brushed your knee, then your thigh, his fingers trembling as he whispered the incantation again and wiped away the rest with his robe sleeve. 

When he was finished, he kissed the inside of your knee, then your hip, then your stomach like it was part of some silent apology only your skin could understand.

“I’m gonna help you down,” he said, voice soft.

You nodded, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you slowly from the table and holding you close while your legs adjusted. You swayed once, but he caught you instantly.

“You’re shaky,” he murmured.

“You fucked my legs numb, Park,” you whispered, trying to smile, and he let out a breathy laugh, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he mumbled. “Not even if Snape drags me out of your bed himself.”

You held onto him tighter, forehead pressed to his collarbone. “You better keep that promise.”

He kissed your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I will,” he said. “Forever.”

He helped you sit on the edge of the table while he redressed—pulling his trousers back up, refastening his belt with one hand while the other stayed on your knee like he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you. When he was done, he reached for your discarded panties, blushing faintly as he held them out to you.

“I should’ve asked first,” he said quietly. “Back then. In the shack.”

You looked up at him, heart aching. “You couldn’t. And I already told you… I don’t regret it.”

He nodded, but the guilt lingered behind his eyes. So you took his hand and laced your fingers through his again.

“We’ll be okay,” you said. “You and me.”

“We will,” he whispered.

You dressed in silence together, stealing soft glances and touches, letting the heat cool but not disappear. And when you finally stepped out of the greenhouse, blinking into the pale afternoon light, Jisung’s arm was already around your shoulders holding you close and as steady as the heartbeat you’d heard pounding through his chest not long ago.

And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was quiet and certain.

Like a promise kept.

eeeeek feedback is greatly appreciated! i love reading ur comments and anons <3

[coralquill]

I read your witch mc headcannon and lemme say, I love it. I have anotheR supernatural request if you don't mind. I wanted to request a vampire MC who drinks blood of others except the boy's bc she doesn't want to hurt them and what they're reaction would be to that and maybe how they'd ask her to drink theirs. KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK 👏

ahoy, thank you for requesting! thank you for the kind words and im glad you enjoyed the witch reader hcs! this was also a fun piece to write i love writing requests out of what im used to. hope you enjoy!

pairings: xavier x reader || zayne x reader || rafayel x reader || sylus x reader || caleb x reader

contents: vampire reader, blood mention, biting, comedy, suggestive || wc.1221

— XAVIER

It was well known that Xavier cooks, (ahem, cough,) and he used garlic in most of his dishes to enhance the flavors. So after hours of slaving at the stove, he'd invite you to have a late lunch with him, and you accepted. Though on the table, you'd avoid eating anything garlic, having just the salad, the appetizers, and the fresh juices.

From his observations later on, he discovered you were a vampire—no garlic, avoiding silver and the sun, and a shifted sleep schedule.

Xavier would make adjustments to accommodate you, from banning garlic from his apartment to throwing away all silverware, making you feel more welcome in his world. Though, whenever the two of you shared a meal together, he always wondered, do vampires not need to drink blood to keep them alive and going? Human meals surely didn't fill up your daily energy quota, and he never saw you draw any blood from any source.

On finding out you fed on other people, he'd straddle you, keeping you in place and demanding you to feed on him, and only him.

And you could only accept, as the angry pout he had was working against you and making it hard to refuse.

— ZAYNE

Zayne would notice that something was up with you with how you were acting around certain shiny metal and certain aromatic dishes whenever he went out with you. His theories about you being a vampire were soon confirmed when you came to him late at night with a nasty burn on your hand.

You affirmed that you were indeed a vampire and were in dire need of immediate medical attention, and Zayne would tend to your burn at the best of his medical knowledge—at least, as much as it could apply to vampires.

Zayne wouldn't prefer you drinking blood from strangers as it could hold diseases and illnesses. He'd offer his blood to you, and he'd make sure he always stayed clean of anything, keeping his blood healthy.

Zayne would suggest packing you a fresh pint of his blood whenever you needed to part ways for a while. "Here take this with you." He slipped the bag into your backpack. He added ice cubes from his Evol to keep it cool and fresh for longer. "Drink it when you need to."

The smell of his blood wafted in the air, and it smelled so good. Your pupils dilated, grinning cheekily, "You think I could resist drinking your blood in the first hours of my trip?"

Zayne smiled and leaned in for a kiss, but you leaned in further to kiss the mark you had left on his neck.

— RAFAYEL

The first thing Rafayel would notice was that you didn't have reflections whenever you passed the mirrors of the studio—was it a Wanderer's curse? An Evol's effect perhaps?

He then noticed that whenever he got papercuts or small cuts from using sharp tools, your head would whip around, eyes zeroing in on the cut every single time—okay, you were definitely a blood-sucking creature.

"So you're a vampire." He'd point out casually, hands busy with the tools he crafted with.

You nodded. "I am."

"You never asked me to drink my blood. Kind of rude." He pouted. "How did you survive?"

"I went after random others. Didn't want to hurt you."

Rafayel scoffed, clearly offended that you drank blood from strangers rather than him.

Rafayel would make it his mission to seduce you by wearing wide, open collar shirts and sitting under open windows, allowing the sun to hit his skin in the most enticing angles—and it was working.

He was a temptation like no other.

You pounced and sank your canines into his neck.

Rafayel grinned at first, happy to be the victor in this little game he played, but moments after, his expression faltered at the delicious sting he felt.

"Oh."

You needed to be careful with your intakes as Lemurian blood was addicting, and you wouldn't want your little fishy to dry up!

— SYLUS

Sylus hoards shiny things. Gems, gold, and silver. Most of his kitchenware and utensils were made of silver: the water goblets he drank from, the plates he ate from, and the forks he took bites with. But when you told him you couldn't eat from them because you were a vampire and they'd burn you, he'd taken them out and locked them in a vault away from you to ensure you never crossed paths with what hurts you.

Sylus would keep you company at night, both of you having a common enemy—The Sun. Sylus and you would go on late night escapades and spread mischief in your wakes; brooding atop the tallest skyscrapers at the end of a well-spent night was a must.

Upon learning that you satiate your quench for blood by drinking from others, he wouldn't allow it again.

"But I don't want to hurt you," you said, worry clouding your eyes.

Sylus's eyes softened. "You don't have to worry about that." He reassured you he could self-heal and that whatever skin rips and marks you'd leave on him, he'd patch them up with his Evol.

Sylus would pull you into his lap and offer his neck, silently inviting you to drink as much as you needed.

After you were done drinking, all the blood that dripped would dissipate with swirls of his energy Evol, but the two canine punctures stayed. You had left your mark on him, and he was proudly wearing it.

— CALEB

[Notes: Things Pip-squeak avoids:]

No silver—check.

Caleb would get rid of all silver tools in his house when he saw you avoid touching them.

No garlic—check.

Once Caleb noticed a recurring pattern of you not eating garlic-flavored meals, he substituted all the garlic spices and stopped cooking recipes centered around garlic altogether.

No sunlight—check.

Caleb would cover the windows of his house with films to block the sun but were translucent enough to allow the light to brighten the rooms. He'd hang umbrellas next to all the doors for you to use whenever you left the house.

With days passing, Caleb would notice more unusual things you avoided or did. He noted your shift in sleep schedule. You usually slept through daylight and woke up in the late hours of the night. So naturally, Caleb opened up his notes app to add this tidbit about you.

Shifted sleep schedule—check.

Caleb read through the points he had written over time, and, oh—those weren't just points about quirks specific to you, but rather Caleb's accidental discovery that you were a vampire.

He'd obliquely market his blood to you, indirectly telling you to feed on him. He cooked his own meals, ate healthy, trained regularly, and was active most of the days of the week, and that was enough to keep his body pumping healthy blood.

But if that wasn't enough to get you to drink from his blood, he'd tell you flat out that he wanted you to need him and use him for your bloody needs. The mark you'd leave on him would be on the left side of his neck where his good arm was to ensure there'd be the most blood flow for you, (and he wanted to feel your bite every time.)

likes and reblogs will always be appreciated ♡ let me know what you think!

— set sail for more tales, sailor: ⚲masterlist

— until next tide, thanks for docking by ｡𖦹°‧𓇼

© coralquill 2025 – do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[blooberrries]

『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

Ichigo, Grimmjow, Aizen and Alucard (Hellsing) reaction that fem Reader being not human, but true appearence being highly magical, that shapeshifting, small, agile, have long tails, sneaky, climbing everywhere and grabby critter/creature (think of those magical beings from myths like Imp/Puka/Kikimora).

This is such a fun request! I didn't pick one specific creature for this so I could kinda change up the appearance and skills. Past some monster features reader has no appearance

Ichigo

He always thought you might not be human. It's just that it was never a big enough deal for him to ask

Ichigo is used to the supernatural so the way you slink around or just appear out of nowhere is a giveaway, still you don't look or feel like a threat, so he was happy to become your friend

Hanging out and playing games was a great way for him to step away from all the responsibilities that being a soul reaper gave him, and it wasn't until after you all had gotten closer that your real form really becomes an important detail

It wasn't even a big deal, he had asked you to hang out at his place he just happened to be running late, and it wasn't uncommon for you to just let yourself in since he gave you a key

He'd expected to see you laying on the couch watching something, maybe scrolling on your phone with some snacks or just reading, really anything but what he finds

Darting from one part of the room to another he sees you...? With a long almost rat like tail, thin but tall curled horns and strange clawed hands Ichigo isn't really sure what to think

You're rushing around his apartment, stacking papers, sweeping and just making the place look nice and tidy again with giggles sometimes escaping your lips that he notices are stretched just a touch too wide

" Hey....sorry I'm late? " Ichigo didn't mean to startled but the squeak that you let out was pretty funny, it's not hard for him to move on from the looks, you're still his best friend, his important someone and that's not going to change

Honestly your true form is cute in his eyes, it's not the weirdest thing he's ever seen and the fact that you use your powers for such nice deeds really warms his heart

Not too bothered by it at all and now his home is a great place to just fully be yourself with him around, nothing really changes for Ichigo, human or not you all have each other and that's enough

Grimmjow

It's no surprise that Grimmjow meets you somewhere in Hueco Mundo, at first, he fully thinks you're just another hollow he plans on attacking you with no remorse but then you talk back

You snip and sneer at him and he can't help but think it's a little fun, not too many people do that to him

With bright colorful feather plums and birdlike legs Grimmjow sees this as a game to start, you become prey for him to catch

For you it's nothing but a game of tag, every time you run into him it's a chance to soar a bit higher or laugh a little louder until he's shouting and demanding you make things even!

Soon enough these meetings become shared meals and you babbling about your little collections. From shinny beads or bits of glass to parts of hollows your found slayed or half eaten, there's a little bit of everything and Grimmjow thinks that cool

You know how wolfs will hunt with crows sometimes, it's that, that's what you all have

You're quick and quiet not to mention a great scout, Grimmjow is strong and agile together you two are a pair to be feared, he keeps you fed, and you keep him company

On rare occasions he brings you trinkets from the base or stuff from the human world just so he can watch you scramble to find the perfect place to put it and hear you go on and on about its use and such

It's just fun, Grimmjow likes having someone around that keep up with him and sometimes even outpace him, he likes the weird habits that come with how different you are from him, you're something he looks forward to

Aizen

It doesn't matter if you're trying to hide what you are, Aizen already knows from the moment you meet

It's part of why he adores you, you aren't like anything else he's really seen, not a hollow or a soul reaper but something that lays beyond normal reach

Though he doesn't mind never seeing your true form Aizen does WANT to see it, he likes the idea of seeing a side of you no one else knows

It's a shock then to find you just lazing around one day, little clawed hands, a big toothy smile and the most adorable horns poking out of your head, you are the most imp looking creature he could have thought of

You seem so at peace and relaxed, as much as he'd like to ask questions, he can't really bring himself to just ruin this moment, so he waits and waits and waits

Aizen has more time on his hands then he knows what to do with sometimes and his new favorite hobby is just..watching you both in and out of that form he wants to know what you do, think and feel all at once

The contrast of looks is nice because you as a person never changes it just gives him more insight on how you do some things, like the tricks and pranks you pull on some of the espada or how you can wiggle your way out of things so easily

For the most part he just lets you do as you please, Aizen sees no reason to stop you if you wish to be a bit mischievous and he enjoys getting to see your imp form running around and taking advantage of the vast world he controls

Yes, this really is such a wonderful pastime for him, you are his favorite hobby and that likely won't change for years to come

Alucard

Now Alucard is someone who can really appreciate another supernatural, so long as they aren't his enemy there's a joy in knowing you aren't as fragile as a normal human or as hungry as a vampire, he's hoping it's a happier life for you

He likes getting to learn about what you are, what you like or want to do, Alucard can get pretty board when there's no work for him to do since Integra doesn't always let him wander around

If you've lived for a long time, he hopes you're willing to trade stories, he'll make a whole date night of it! With snacks for you and drinks to share. He'll tell you tales of his pasts and lessons he's learned, while eagerly waiting to hear of the houses or people you've visited

When out for work Alucard finds himself thinking of you, of things you might do or think if you'd been here with him this leads him more often than not to taking items or little treasures to give you later

If you don't already have a collection Alucard is now helping you make one and he's nice enough to even help you keep them clean, want to mess with some of the Hellsing workers? Well good news he's knows almost all of their schedules and would love to see what your mind comes up with

He definitely protects you from Integra, he knows she'll try and get you to work for them if she finds out more about you and he can't stand the idea of you having to fight

Alucard really is the most accepting of you, the ears, tail and teeth mean nothing to him, you're simply you and he likes you; he likes the feeling you give him and the good things you remind him of it just helps that he knows you won't break

I'm not really sure if this is what you wanted but I kinda like it. Alucard really came out of nowhere; he was the unexpected twist, but I do feel like he was the easiest for me to write for even though I didn't write as much. I just like writing for him, I think. Anyway, thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoyed, have a good day or night~ Lilly Feedback is always appreciated and if you'd you like to support me here's my Kofi

[brights-place]

Slenderman is Goddess! Spouse

Pairings: Slenderman X la Muerte! Reader

Warnings: Murder, Gore, Supernatural, Fluff, Angst, Cussing

A/N: Okay so I had this idea slenderman dating an godess of life for example like La muerte who I think is SO FUCKING HOT! she is amazing and Slenderman dating someone like her would be so fun to write!

- When the creepypasta members saw you they first thought you were an intruder you were human - before they attacked you slenderman appeared right infront of you bending himself down to face you properly "(Name)" "Slender" You said smiling softly to him as you both disappeared once he gave you his hand - When you both are alone he picks you up like you are a teddy bear and makes you lay your head on his chest as you chuckle - You and Slender kept your relationship an secret until Jeff entered the office to hand over his report but walked in on you kissing Slender is cheek - As his spouse he makes sure to take care of you - he keeps his scary and tough demeanor but around you? he just tries his bets for you not to show PDA in public he had to keep his scary demeanor! - Due to Slender Man's history being completely unknown it is hard to determine just what he is thinking, although he is commonly seen as a cruel, sadistic, manipulative, predatory, misanthropic demon. It is entirely unknown if Slender Man actually cares for his proxies' safety, or if he's just using them in order to get what he wants, showing his controlling and tyrannical personality - Yet... he married you !! an Human? a basic human who... who didn't even he was just so CONFUSED! well he thought you were Human... - You were gonna be his victim, you were going to die in his hands yet he didn't even do that he just stared at you - He was confused on how everything around you bloomed and became more colorful showing life - You two were the opposites of eachother Slender Man is a mystery. He looks like a human being, but doesn’t act like one. It is uncertain if he is a social creature, understands human languages or behaviors, or even why humans appear to be his primary targets while you were a 'human' who was positive and shown to be a largely kind and loving woman, showing a deeply caring and welcoming attitude to almost everyone you have meet. You were free-spirited and festive. It is believed that the kindness and love of mortal-kind stem from your own - He loves to slow dance with you but he always has to bend down when you were in your Human form of course - He found it peculiar when flower petals always walked behind you - When slender cut Rogue by accident cause she was in the way when he was throwing Wilson the basher against the wall for failing his mission - Slender never told any of his useless proxies or the lower Creepypasta's knew about you but when you appeared from thin air staring at Slenderman who dropped Wilson and the other proxies who failed the missions down quickly turning his ehad towards you the dark appearance and shadowy places that where showing disappeared as he felt his blood drain - You satred at him eye twitching as your fists balled as your human form turned to you true godess form as you shouted loudly "SLENDER!" Slender spoke quickly "My love-" - He watched as you scolded him but he couldn't help but admire your appearance

- Despite both of you being as old and ancient as time itself,you kept youe vision of youth and radiant beauty as you were made entirely of white sugar candy with knee-length H/c licorice hair that is tied in a low ponytail with bangs split on either side and multi-colored glowing eyes with aqua eyeshadow that are in shades of gold and red. While your red dress decorated with cempasuchil (Mexican marigold flowers) all over and marigold flowers with lit white wax candles at the hem of your dress. You also wear an extremely large, wide-brimmed sombrero bedecked with more lit candles and marigolds, small skulls, pink-plumed, curly, swirly feathers and palm leaves. Also wearing a circular gold locket on a choker that he had given you - The proxies were smirking happily being protected by the goddess of life - He makes sure on November second that he comes with you cause you say its the most special day to you which was the day of the dead - You both Slow dance together listening to Classical music -  Though you two have a complicated relationship with due to your different beliefs and the completely different, opposite antagonistic lands and realms you both ruled. - As your husband he does his best to make time for you - When he is out "working" in his words he is just getting victims while you on the other hand would scold him but knew it was his only way of well eating - You knew that Slender wins over the confidence of children but adults are repulsed by fear. - He chooses children because he can take longer to nurture their fear, stalking them for years before attacking them as adults. - He brainwashes children, using them to further his own (unspecified) ends as Proxies. Children are simply easier for him to hunt and eat - You spend time with the younger Creepypasta's and make sure that they are patched up - The other creepypasta's were weary of you and still are - But DAMN! you knew how to cook some good food - If the creepypastas are close to the brink of death they literally scream in their heads for slender to get them or have backup which slender does... sometimes - But if they shout your name at all within any space giving life well Poof your their in an second taking them and scolding them for almost getting caught - Slender makes sure to try maintain his anger issues but he does lash out of the Proxies if they do anything wrong - When you two argue about the creepypastas you speak up "Anyone can die. These kids, they will have the courage to live and fight" you said as slender argued back to you "They are adults My love" "Yes but what has happened to them they were only mere children! well some of them!" You said back as slender groaned in annoyance pinching the bridge of where his nose would be... if he even had one

- Yes you two have different perspectives on humankind for example you believe that humankind is completely good, true and pure while Slender thinks and believes that humankind is selfish, greedy, sinful and concerned only in its own interest on the other hand. - Despite your differences and occasional conflicts you two complement each other perfectly.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[shinybearnerd]

"Notes of Chaos"

Hi everybody!

Since Good Omens season 2 is almost here, I wanted to share some of my ff with you.

The pairing is not between Crowley and Aziraphale, even tho there may be one of them in the future. They are so cute together and I ship them, but I think I'm not that good at capturing their ineffable love. Idk, I hope it makes sense...

This is my first time publishing a smut ff. I'm a little nervous lmao.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! Let me know if that's the case!

Pair: Crowley x Gn!reader

Words: 2,6k

Genre: Fluff, smut +18

Story: After the Armageddon, Crowley has been kicked out of his apartment and now he's living in his Bentley. You and Crowley are good friends, so you propose he stays at your place for the moment. He accepts, even tho he's reluctant. Days pass and you and the demon are coming to get closed and closed until one night, at a party...

-Engish is not my first language. So I'm sorry if there are any mistakes-

Every person that has known y/n would describe them as someone that has an infectious smile and bright eyes that light up even at the littlest thing.

They had always been fascinated by the idea of supernatural creatures, and as soon as they learned that Crowley was a demon, they were drawn to him in a strange and intriguing way. Despite their human nature, y/n was open-minded enough to accept Crowley for who he was.

Ever since the demon had entered their life, they had discovered an unexpected complicity with him.

After weeks of living together, Crowley had become accustomed to y/n's company and their eccentricity. Though at first, he'd been reluctant to accept their offer of hospitality, he'd gradually come to trust them and realized that he couldn't have found a better person, apart from Aziraphale of course, to share time with than them.

One evening, Y/n enthusiastically approached Crowley while he was immersed in one of the many blogs about plants that the demon followed. <<Hey, some friends are planning a party this night. Five minutes from here. Would you like to come with me? >> asked, trying to hide the excitement.

Crowley lifted his eyes from the phone and looked at Y/n, considering their proposal. Initially, the prospect of a party didn't seem very appealing to the demon, who preferred to spend the evenings alone or with a few people he felt comfortable with. But then, a thought crossed his mind: perhaps, this would be an opportunity to get closer to them.

After a short pause, Crowley nodded. <<Yeah, sure. It'll be fun.>> Y/n eyes immediately lightened up as they embraced him enthusiastically. <<Crowley, you'll love them! And I'm sure they'll love you too!>>

In the evening, the two walked towards the meeting place. Crowley followed Y/n. As they passed through the neighbourhood, the lights of the adjacent houses cast a welcoming atmosphere on the whole street.

When they reached their destination, the music and the sound of laughter greeted them. The party was on an elegant terrace, above a very chich club, with upbeat music and some people already laughing and dancing.

Crowley noticed that Y/n was like a fish in water, in the midst of people, while he preferred to remain cold. Still, Y/n's presence offered him a sense of comfort he'd never experienced before.

<<Come, Crowley, I want you to meet my people!>> They insisted, gently taking his arm and leading him.

The demon found himself in a various circle of people: there were artists, musicians and people with eccentric clothing.

And if before he felt out of place, at that moment he felt at home.

He left himself carried away by the festive atmosphere and found himself laughing and joking with guests who weren't Luna or her friends. Maybe it was the alcohol. Yes, it was definitely the alcohol.

As the evening wore on, Crowley realized how gorgerous and charming Y/n looked as they danced lightly. He was beginning to love the way their eyes sparkled with a particular light when they talked about something that fascinated them or when they talked to their friends… The way their nose crunched when smiling or laughing…

The hours passed, and the party continued in its fervency.

Crowley and Y/n found themselves sitting against the railing of the parapet. The bright colour of the lights created a magical and intimate atmosphere in some way.

There was no need to talk much. They seemed to understand each other even without many words. <<Crowley>> Y/n said, placing their hand lightly on his. <<Thank you for coming with me tonight. It's nice to have you here.>> The demon smiled. A sweet one that he rarely showed to others. <<Yes. I'm happy too. It was a... pleasant evening.>>

They were smiling at each other when suddenly the DJ spoke, telling everybody that the night was almost ending and that he was putting on the last songs.

Immediately, Y/n took Crowley by the arm, dragging him into the dance floor. The demon didn't know whether to feel bothered or amused by their gesture. He chose the second option.

The music was loud, but that didn't seem to bother Y/N, who danced carefree and sensually, as if there was no one around them.

Crowley found himself mesmerized by their presence. His ancient and mischievous soul recognized Y/n's attraction and excitement, and the thought made him smile. He even thought that they would have been a heaven of a demon.

He let himself go to the music, allowing Y/n to lead him on an intoxicating experience.

The evening had revealed a side of them that Crowley had never seen before: a wild and charming person, capable of awakening new sensations in him.

With an amused smile, Crowley followed Y/n's movements, letting the music surround them both. He no longer cared about the outside world or his worries. The only thought that mattered to him was sharing that moment with them.

At one point, they moved even closer to Crowley, their bodies almost touching. The heat and electricity between them seemed to increase. It wasn't just the music that moved them, but a mutual attraction that was growing more and more.

In a playful tone, Y/n whispered in Crowley's ear over the noise of the music. <<You know... we could wreak some havoc together! That would be fun.>>

Crowley smiled, realizing that they were playing with him, but at the same time seeing a small spark of truth in their suggestion.

<<We could, but you know, I've spent millennia wreaking it… Maybe I need a break, gorgeous.>> he replied winking behind his black glasses.

Y/n laughed, looking down as they resumed letting the music wrap around them. Trying to hide their blushed cheeks.

Something in hearing their laughter snapped in him and, without them realizing it, the demon slipped behind, grabbing them with one hand, which he held on their stomach, and pulling Y/n towards himself, continuing to dance.

Although Y/n seemed to never stop laughing, they felt their breath short for a few seconds. Crowley's touch made them shiver, but not in the way they expected. It was an electrifying sensation, a combination of awe and pleasure.

They turned to him, meeting his leering gaze, and their heart started pounding even faster. <<Crowley.>> they whispered, almost out of breath. The demon answered them with a knowing smile, moving closer. << Sounds to me like you need some guidance, Y/n. I can help you with the pacing if you like.>>

Y/n smiled. And immediately after they let themself be completely caught up in Crowley's grip. They felt his strong, warm hands on their skin as his rhythm joined in an intense, sensual dance. The heartbeat quickened the breathing of both mixed.

As they danced together, Y/n felt the heat of Crowley's body against theirs, a magnetic energy that seemed to grow stronger and stronger. It was as if their souls touched, opening the door to a deep and mysterious understanding. The more they danced, the more Crowley closed them, letting themselves be overwhelmed by their aphrodisiac smell; the more Y/n grinded and danced against Crowley. There were no words, just the music enveloping them, and their emotions melding together.

Y/n felt like they were in a trance, fascinated by the way the demon treated them. His touch was electrifying and everything they needed in their life.

Crowley, on the other hand, was surprised about how Y/n could push his emotions so high. In every movement, in every touch, he felt the pull of their power, humanity and irresistible energy. He had gotten used to being cold and calculating, but with Y/n, everything seemed different.

They continued to dance, letting themselves be guided by the music and the intensity of the moment, until they felt the demon's crotch behind them, letting out a sigh of pleasure. Which didn't go unnoticed by the demon, who gripped them closer. He leaned closer to them, leaning into Y/n's ear, grinding more. He spoke with a husky and amused whisper. <<Do you like dancing with me, my dear? >> Y/n moaned softly. << Yes...>>

Crowley's hands trailed up Y/n's hips as his sensual movements made them feel alive like never before. It was as if the whole universe was concentrated at that moment. The demon's hands squeezed them tighter, their bodies moving in unison. The dance floor felt like their kingdom, where they could express themselves without fear or judgment.

The music surrounded them more, leading them into a whirlwind of emotions and desire. Every movement, every touch, was filled with passion and mystery. Suddenly, it stopped. But, even though the song ended, the connection between the demon and the human was still strong.

They stopped to stare into each other's eyes, not saying a word. The short breaths were due to the movement and desire they felt towards each other. Crowley was breathing heavily too, looking at them through his glasses with an impenetrable gaze.

<<Follow me. >> he ordered, breaking the silence.

Y/n didn't have to hear it again. They let the demon grab their wrist and followed him, slipping through the crowd that had resumed dancing.

As soon as they got out, Crowley pushed Y/n against the nearest wall, approaching them with an intense expression in his eyes. Their lips met passionately, hungry for each other. Each kiss was a promise of pleasure and togetherness.

As Crowley brushed his hands against Y/n's skin, the contact ignited a fire that spread throughout their bodies. They felt the heat emanating from the demon, an intense and overwhelming feeling that made them want him even more.

Y/n's hands hooked on the collar of Crowley's jacket, pulling him closer. They could feel the hardness of his muscles against their body, and the energy emanating from him made them shiver with excitement.

Their breaths mingled, quickened by the desire that burned them from within. There was no more room for inhibitions, just the will to indulge in an uncontrollable passion.

As the kiss deepened and deepened, Crowley moved his hands over the curves of Y/n's body, exploring them with desire and reverence. His fingers traced lines down their back, leaving a trail of fire on their sensitive skin.

Y/n moaned in pleasure, responding to Crowley's touches with smooth movements of their body. It was as if they were in perfect harmony, dancing to an ancient tune of passion and desire.

The pressure of the demon's body against theirs intensified, and Y/n could feel their arousal spreading now. It was an explosion of sensations, a shiver that shot through their spines and spread through their entire being.

As the kiss broke off, leaving a line of saliva that united them, their gazes met once again. There was a promise of lust and affection in those golden eyes. An intensity that made their heart beat even faster. <<Crowley...>> whispered Y/n, their voice full of desire. The demon smiled at them. A smile full of mischief and affection that only they could see. Y/n bit their lower lip, their body vibrating with a desire that was impossible to ignore. <<Crowley, please... Fuck me.>>

Without saying a word, Crowley took Y/n's face in their hands and kissed them again hard and passionately. It was as if they were two souls on fire, consuming each other. Crowley's hands moved impatiently, exploring Y/n's body with uncontrollable hunger, starting to free both of the encumbrances of pants/and dresses.

Their breathing was irregular, their moans mixing in the night air with the muffled noise of distant music. It was a symphony of desire, a crescendo of sensations that carried them higher and higher.

The demon picked them up, pressing them against the wall, and Y/n wrapped their legs around him, welcoming him. Crowley began to playfully rub his hard erection against Y/n's core, who moaned impatiently. A sly smile was on his lips. <<Crowley... please!>> <<You know what to do, sweet cheecks.>> replied grinding harder against them. Y/n tightened their grip on the shoulders of the demon, who watched them in amusement. <<Crowley-… fuck. Please, fuck me hard. Ruin me! Ruin other people for me. >> With a sudden movement, Crowley thrust all of him hard, causing them to let out a strangled cry of pleasure. <<Fuck. You're so deliciously tight! ...Can I move?>> <<I'll kill you if you don't!>>

Their bodies moved in unison, dancing in a timeless, erotic choreography. Each movement was a promise of pleasure, a celebration of the intense connection between them. The more the demon moved, the more the human felt they were about to come.

As Crowley's trusts quickened, Y/n understand that he was close too. They could hear him gasping and grunting in pleasure, feeling Y/n's core squeezing him just in the right way. He tilted his head backwards, moaning and grunting into the free air as he had his way with Y/n.

<<Oh, my- fucking god! Yes, baby! Just like that!>> The blasphemy and the tone of their voice were his last straw. His movement quickened more, while his pushes became harder.

They soon came together: Crowley feeling his cock sweetly being milked by his lover's soft walls, and Y/n feeling his warm seed coating and filling them.

With their bodies still vibrating with passion, Y/n and Crowley remained embraced against the wall, wrapped up in each other and seeking the breath and the sweetness in each other's embrace. Their skins touched delicately as if they wanted to keep every spark of that magical moment.

With the accelerated beat of their hearts in the background, they exchanged an intense kiss, full of gratitude and complicity. Their warm skins pressed together as heavy breathing filled the air around them. It was as if time had stopped, leaving room only for the present, just for the two of them.

Crowley continued to support Y/n in his arms, his golden eyes fixed on their y/e/c. His hands caressed them delicately, almost as if he were touching a precious work of art. They felt every touch of the demon on their skin, an electric hiss that made them shiver with pleasure. He seemed fascinated by every inch of the human's body as if he were exploring an unknown and fascinating world. Every nuance, every curve, seemed to be etched into his mind like a symphony of beauty.

<<You're so gorgeous...>> Crowley whispered hoarsely, the words spoken with worship and adoration.

Y/n smiled, feeling loved and wanted in a way they had never experienced before.

<<And you are extraordinary. >> answered softly.

Their gazes met again, and deep in Crowley's eyes, Y/n could read a mix of emotions: desire, passion, but also a vulnerability that made him even more fascinating.

The demon's lips explored their necks, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His sensual bites on their skin made them quiver with pleasure, blending sweet with spicy in a symphony of sensations. Y/n's hands tangled in his red hair, pulling him even closer. They felt his heart beat in unison as if they had become one soul.

They lost track of time. It was just the two of them, immersed in a world of their own, a world of desire and pleasure that enveloped them like a whirlwind.

Suddenly the kissing stopped and Y/n felt Crowley's strong arms wrap around them while his head was buried against their chest. As if he wanted to protect them from the whole world and at the same time, wanted to protect himself.

They welcomed him gently, feeling the warmth of his body next to theirs. Making the demon feel loved. In the silence of the night, their breaths calmed. <<What a way to provoke havoc... >> he remarked, amused. Y/n chuckled. <<We should do it more often. >> The demon turned his gaze to look at them. A smirk full of love and devotion on his face. <<Yeah, we should.>> He brought his face closer and kissed them passionately, keeping their head in place with his hand.

<<I think it's time to go home...>> suggested Y/n with a smile. << Yes, I think so too.>>

He carefully set them down, asking if they could stand on their own. Once Y/n felt more comfortable, they dressed each other again and then left the party together. Crowley's arm was placed over their shoulders.

[aylacavebear]

Fourth of July

You live with the brothers and Cas at the bunker. It's been a long time since any of you celebrated any holidays. However, luck is on your side this year, as a case hasn't popped up in a week. You want to do fireworks with the brothers and Cas, but can you find a way to get Dean to say yes?

Word Count: 1878

No pairings, but hidden feelings of love.

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, Dean being a sweetheart (Yes, this is a warning).

----------------------------------------- Typically, you didn’t get to celebrate holidays, especially not with the brothers. There was usually someone who needed saving, or the three of you were attempting to stop another apocalypse. This year, it was different. For once, there was no case that needed to be tended to, no one was in danger, and supernatural creatures seemed to have gone quiet.

Of course, that had the brothers on edge, worrying when and where the shoe would drip. You were optimistic, and you were daring to hope. It was the morning of July 4th, and you’d been up for nearly an hour. Coffee was done, and you were working on your second cup. Sam had already had his run and was now in the shower while Dean was still snoring away in bed. 

“You’re up,” Sam said, somewhat surprised as he entered the kitchen.

“Yup,” you replied, looking over at him, noticing how his hair was still damp from his shower. “Can we do fireworks this year?” You asked, trying not to sound as hopeful as you’d gotten.

Sam chuckled as he poured himself a cup of coffee and joined you at the kitchen table. “We don’t have any fireworks.”

“No, but everyone is selling them. We could get some and have some fun tonight. When was the last time any of us had some real fun?” you replied, hoping you could convince him. Sam was always the easiest of the two to convince for stuff like this. 

“You’ve got to be the one to get Dean to say yes,” he replied with that smile that told you all you needed to know.

A giddiness spread through you, knowing Sam was on board with the idea. Now, to get Dean to agree, and that was going to be a huge pain. Yeah, the man knew how to have fun, but he’d also been on edge since there hadn’t been a case in a week. You were hoping to use that to your advantage, though.

“Will you pick up a ton of fireworks, and I’ll convince Dean?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, grinning happily.

“Yeah,” Sam replied through some laughter.

Dean may have been your best friend, but he’d always meant more than just that to you. Your dumb ass had gone and fallen in love with him years ago, not long after meeting the brothers. You kept it hidden well, but you suspected Sam and Cas knew how you felt. Luckily for you, though, neither had said anything and Dean, as far as you knew, had been clueless.

You waited another hour before knocking on his door. There was a grumbling noise from the other side, so you went inside. He always looked amazing right out of sleep. Okay, he looked amazing all the time, but you had your favorite moments.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you told him happily, plopping down on the other side of his bed.

“What time is it?” he asked gruffly due to waking up.

“After nine. I let you sleep in,” you told him, tilting your head just a bit as you watched him open those beautiful green eyes that soon met your deep, dark blue ones.

“And why are you waking me up, Sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“It’s the Fourth of July, and I’m excited,” you giggled, unable to hide it.

Dean chuckled, which only made you smile more, “Lemme guess, you want to do fireworks?”

“Yeah,” you replied, still smiling, as he wasn’t sounding opposed to the idea.

He rolled onto his side, leaning on his elbow as he looked up at you, “And what if a case comes in today?”

You sighed, then frowned and looked away from him. You figured he’d say that, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.”

With a heavy heart, you headed out of his room. Now you had to figure out a way to get him to at least think about the idea, but at the moment, had no clue how to do that. He watched you go, puzzled by how quickly your entire demeanor had changed in an instant. He hadn’t said no, but you were acting as though he had.

Dean tossed on some clothes and went for coffee first. He was also glad he had found his brother in the kitchen, even if he was on his laptop. “Hey, what’s up with Y/N/N,” Dean asked as he sat across from Sam.

“She wants to have fireworks tonight. I told her she had to convince you,” he replied, looking over his laptop at his brother. “Why, what happened?” he asked, figuring his brother had said something in his half-asleep state.

“Well, she told me it was the fourth of July and I asked her what if a case came up,” Dean replied, fairly clueless.

Sam shook his head in not only amusement but also understanding. He knew the both of you far too well. “You made her think you didn’t want to,” he chuckled.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed under his breath. “Help me fix this, please.”

“Alright. She asked me to go pick up fireworks. You can figure out where we’ll let them off at tonight and then surprise her. Just, don’t be a dick about it,” Sam replied, 

Dean nodded, a plan already formulating in his mind, but he was going to need more coffee to so he could implement it flawlessly. He explained his idea to Sam, who couldn’t stop laughing but agreed to go along with it. By the end of their short conversation, Dean was convinced this would work, and he’d see that smile of yours that always warmed his heart.

You spent most of the day in your room, still trying to figure out how to convince Dean to say yes, and you still hadn’t come up with anything. That was only depressing you. You had just laid back on your bed when there was a knock.

“Come in,” you sighed, not moving.

The door opened, but you didn’t look over at whoever it was. “Hey, Sam found us a case. It’s close by, so you don’t need to pack anything. We’ll work it out of the bunker. Be ready to head out around seven,” Dean told you.

“Of course he did,” you mumbled under your breath, but he heard you. “I’ll be ready,” you told him, rolling over to glance at the clock. It’s seriously five already. So much for fireworks. The thought was depressing, but you would at least attempt to hide that.

You considered arguing with him, begging to start the case after some fireworks, but you knew he had a one-track mind when there was a case involved. You didn’t even notice him leave and close your door. With a heavy heart, you got up to get ready. A quick shower, hunting clothes, and a few choice weapons to stash on yourself. 

Putting your hair up in a braid, your mind attempted to wander. Another year, another holiday lost to a hunt. Are we ever going to get to enjoy a holiday like regular people do? Your thoughts were somewhat depressing, but you forced yourself to focus on the case, that Dean hadn’t told you much about. You also made a mental note to smack Sam for even looking for one, on today of all days. 

Just before seven you headed out to the war room, seeing the brothers and even Cas standing there. You put on a fake smile, but they all saw right through it. They’d been reading people their entire lives and you never could fool them, no matter how hard you tried. The four of you headed into the garage. You sat in the back with Cas while Sam sat up and Dean drove. 

“So, do I get any details about this case?” you asked, glancing at Dean’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Simple salt and burn. Or, at least, that’s what we’re hoping for,” Sam replied, sounding fairly convincing.

You sighed and looked out the side window. It was already dark, and every-now-and-then, you’d see a firework go off in the distance or hear them. In all honesty, you’d gotten your hopes up far higher than you should have. Now, all you wanted to do was curl up and cry at missing yet another holiday to a stupid hunt. It didn’t help when Dean pipped in, either.

“Look, Sweetheart, your fireworks,” he told you with a small smile.

He could see the pain in your expression, and it was killing him to do this surprise for you, seeing you like that. Dean secretly hoped that the surprise he had for you would bring the smile back that he loved to see, which always lit up the room.

The drive was silent; you lost in your thoughts as you stared out the window. It didn’t look like you were going anywhere near the town. In fact, it looked like he was driving further out into the middle of nowhere. Maybe it’s an old farmhouse or something, you thought to yourself with a sigh.

Well, he did pull off the main road onto a dirt one. Then, he drove for another few miles before he stopped in what looked like an empty field. You couldn’t see any building around anywhere, so were utterly puzzled. What sort of salt and burn would be out here?

Dean turned off the engine, and then the four of you got out. You walked toward the front of the Impala while Dean and Sam headed to the trunk. With your hands on your hips, you looked around, trying to figure out why he’d stopped there.

He was smiling as he pulled out a sparkler and lit it, then brought it around to you, “Hey, happy Fourth, Sweetheart,” he told you with a happy smile.

You felt the tears slide down your cheeks when you saw the sparkler in his hand. You couldn’t even thank him. You just hugged him tightly. He had to move the sparkler out of the way quickly but held you close with his other hand.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he told you softly, kissing the top of your head.

You pulled away enough so you could look up at him, a few tears still on your cheeks, but they were happy tears. “This means a lot to me. Thanks, Dean,” you replied, smiling.

He returned the smile and handed you the sparkler, but you noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes as if he was up to something more. That was when Sam and Cas joined the two of you. They each had an armful of fireworks.

“So, what do you want to set off first?” Dean asked you with a smirk.

The night was spent with laughter, lots and lots of fireworks, a bottle of whiskey, and, most importantly, a family of misfits who truly needed a break from the dredges of the hunting life. You still didn’t tell Dean your deepest feelings, but you loved what he’d done for you. He didn’t share his with you either but cherished your laughter and the way your eyes sparkled when you were genuinely happy. For now, that was enough for both of you.

----------------------------------------- One Shots Master List Main Master List

Forever Tag List: @roseblue373

[queer-ragnelle]

Hey as fellow horror fan am I curious of your taste in horror media?especially the given the unique horror route you have chosen take with elegy of an empire .

Hey!

I love love love this question. I'm putting the answers below a cut because of the laundry list of dark themes and spoilers.

So the earliest influence for me was The Twilight Zone (1959-1964). I first watched it as a kid and it's been delightfully haunting me ever since. I intend to watch it through again as I'm confident I haven't seen every episode and at this point in my life it would give me new insight. My two favorite episodes are S01E08 Time Enough at Last and the very last episode of the original series, S05E36 The Bewitchin' Pool. The latter was an especial inspiration for Sir Gromer. Sounds insane but just trust me.

A fun horror movie I'm sure astute readers will see the inspiration from in my first book is The Witches of Eastwick (1987), particularly the polyamory and magical tennis match. I didn't even do this consciously, I just watched it again recently and sat up like:

I love how it blends bright colors and comedy with the grotesque. It's so camp and I think it's a great example of marrying "opposing" genres to heighten both.

Pairing movies together here, I really like how The Babadook (2014) and The Ritual (2017) portrayed grief and survivor's guilt, not only through the protagonists Amelia and Luke themselves, but the manifestations of literal monsters they're tormented by and powerless to do away with. Even if the endings are "happy," with the main characters surviving the narratives, the creatures remain undefeated, as they represent something they'll carry with them forever. Death cannot be undone.

Another show example would be the first season of AMC's The Terror (2018) following the Franklin Expedition in their futile pursuit of the Northwest Passage which devolves into illness, murder, and cannibalism agitated by the presence of a supernatural monster attacking and eating the men. (It's Quest for the Holy Grail coded if you squint.) I love that it starts out almost purely historical drama, with only a glimpse of the supernatural as a crewmember lay dying and appears to hallucinate. After he's dead and buried though, Tuunbaq the polar bear-esque monster hunts the survivors down and finishes them off. It's a commentary on the hubris of the Empire's imperialism. I just think adding some of these elements to a Grail Quest ala Sir John Boorman's Excalibur (1981) would go really hard.

Sort of building on the previous movies' themes, I think Arthuriana is ripe for haunted narratives. I love what Starz Black Sails (2014-2017) did with character deaths in season 3 and 4, with Miranda haunting Flint, appearing in his dreams and during times of stress, and then later Eleanor haunting Woodes by showing up out of focus in shots off to the side or making small knitting sounds while he struggles to think. Another great example is A24's Hereditary (2018), one of my favorite movies of all time. I think it was brilliant how the trailers seemed to focus on Charlie, leading viewers to believe she was the main character, only to brutally behead her fifteen minutes in. Her headless body then torments her brother Peter while their mother Annie spirals in her grief, first from losing her own mother who she hated and now her daughter, blaming Peter for Charlie's death.

Then of course there are books. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving does a wonderful thing with decadent descriptions of rich feasts and elegant high fashion clothing juxtaposed with formless dark evil lurking on the periphery, more so describing how the environment changes than the headless horseman himself. It reminds me a bit of J. R. R. Tolkien's translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in how the environment and "monster," as it were, meld together. It really gives you a sense of the characters' mounting dread.

I love the works of H. G. Wells particularly The War of the Worlds and The Invisible Man. Now I don't write Science-Fiction, but Scifi and Fantasy are in a loving triple marriage with Horror so we're putting these here. With The War of the Worlds, aside from loving the prose itself, I was captivated by the insignificance of the narrator in the grand scheme of all that is happening around him. He felt so small, and yet he did what he could with the things in front of him. So many Arthurian books take the perspective of Arthur or Merlin, and while I wouldn't say Gawain or Mordred are insignificant in the fall of Camelot, I do think they offer a perspective that's more detached from the outcome, at least until the very end. Gawain is certainly not aware of all the prophecies that Merlin told of and which haunt Arthur and dog him day and night. He's just living his life when he unknowingly becomes an instrument of destruction through grief. I did enjoy the 2005 movie as well, I'm a sucker for powerful sound design. As for The Invisible Man, well Sir Gromer has an invisibility cloak. So. I mean the influence is pretty straight forward. But beyond that I also find the Griffin's personality to be fascinating. He's such an asshole. If you read my books and love to hate Gromer, well, take it up with Wells. I can fuck with a character who is a cunt.

There are other examples which I love, such as The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde or Dracula by Bram Stoker, but they have influenced me to a lesser degree. One could argue Dorian's fixation on beauty and youth played a role in how I depicted Ragnelle or Stoker's codified vampirism will effect how I write the sickly lady on Grail Quest who wanted the "healing" blood of Percival's sister.

The most recent Horror book I read was Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle which really raised the bar for me on queer autistic characters experiencing the horrors. It was so good I'll be chasing that high forever. While there isn't a ton of direct cross over from that work to mine, the presence of monsters tormenting queer autistic people is a subject of interest in both, so a general shout out to that for showing me it's possible to do that without being obnoxious about it the way The Winter Knight by Jes Battis was.

I'm probably forgetting something but that's basically a run down of my main inspirations. Many of those have dual genre, like Horror/Mystery or Horror/Fantasy, even Horror/Comedy, and I try to bring that to my work. If a story gets too heavy on one aspect, it falls flat. So I strive for balance in all things. Thanks for this ask I really enjoyed answering it and provided links to watch or read most things. I'd love to hear what Horror resonates with you and whether we have any overlap in our interests. Take care!

[lostonehero]

PLEASE elaborate on the werewolf Elias idea omfg

That sounds so interesting

Hope you're ready for a lore dump

So Elias 7th born werewolf actually a big terrifying wolf during the full moon

Problem

Elias can not grow facial hair and has little to no body hair, which is incredibly rare, and he's thin and small, which again is abnormal for a natural born werewolf first off, so he is easily mistaken as human

Second fears are entirely separate from this supernatural side so Jonah has no fucking idea about any of it and thinks it's fake and doesn't exist because again removed from the fears or the fears have a bastardized version of the creature (ex stranger changling hunt wolf end vampire etc etc)

Jonah doesn't choose who his eyes get placed in the Beholder does (this is cannon to my fics fight me) so the whole things happens and Elias isn't dead surprise they are sharing a body. Jonah doesn't let Elias have control.

Jonah gets settled and can't marry Peter because Elias is born male. Move in together in the span of two weeks.

(Fun fact another cannon to my fics. Jonah is originally a Trans man. I just wanted to put that out there)

Elias is throwing alarm bells as it gets closer and closer to the full moon. Jonah thinks he is crazy and doesn't understand why he isn't gone yet.

Peter likes that Elias is in their, spices things up, but he does roll with the werewolf thing and uses every version of a puppy nickname.

Elias is basically trying to force himself in control and tries amd fails to get Jonah to get Peter to leave right until the moon rises

The morning after comes

Elias has control

Jonah is fucking confused and slightly scared to see everything a mess Peter has bloody bandages on.

"I told you to eat more, but noooo I'm the fucking crazy one." Elias huffs as he puts a pair of boxers on in the mess. "I'm crazy werewolves aren't real. Like here's your fucking proof asshat."

Jonah is too stunned to fight back for control, which he won't get until Elias lets him

"I haven't turned anyone since I was born and you fucking ruined that." Elias finds his phone through the mess and dials a number he knows by heart. "Hush up you damn vic- edwardian cunt." He sighs. "No, Oliver, I wasn't talking to you. Look, it's complicated. I'll text you the address, and yes, I did turn someone, but like, I'm also possessed by one Jonah Magnus.... yes, I know.... well how the fuck was I suppose to know I would get his eyes? Ok... yeah, that would be great. No, I can clean up. You don't have to help it's not as bad as I thought.... yeah that would be nice... what do I owe you? Don't give me that just because... fine, fine, you're right... thanks, man."

Time passes Peter is carried into bed and tea is placed on the bedside table and the apartment is cleaned before there is a knock.

"You got an end avatar to help us?" Jonah stares at Oliver, who answers the door.

Elias sighs heavily. "He's not just an end avatar, Jonah. Oliver is a vampire he was turned around the black death, and not one of the fear ones. Sorry, I'm still getting used to sharing a body. You can come in. I just finished cleaning, Peter is inside in bed, but he still hasn't woken up. He just got the fever yaknow."

Oliver steps in holding up two large bags. "I got all the stuff you need for yourself and him. You look like shit."

"Thanks." Elias sighs, taking a bag. "The asshole wouldn't listen when I said eat more, and I just barely started to get a bit of fat on my body too. That's gone. At least I know all his suit fittings are ruined."

Oliver sighs, but it sounds like a wheeze. "I'll look over Peter for you. Hopefully, he isn't having a bad reaction to the bite. Oh yeah, let our group know the whole deal with Jonah and sharing a body. I also got the paperwork started for Peter when he feels well enough to well you know grip what happened."

Elias nods. "Yeah, I get it."

Jonah has no idea what is going on and is freaking out

This entire conversation Jonah is freaking out and Elias is just ignoring him

[la-muerta]

ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

Tagged by @bbcphile and @exitvelocities, thank you! <3

01. How many words have you written this year? my ao3 stats say I’ve posted 246,223 words this year but some of that is from two fics that I finished in the earlier part of the year and two collab fics, and of course doesn’t include the stuff in drafts. So I think it’s probably closer to 175k words. It’s a little less than my usual, but that usually happens if I’m in more of a giffing/vidding/art mood.

02. How many works did you publish this year? 15, two of which are collab fic. (Didn’t include the two multichapters that I started last year and finished posting at the beginning of the year)

03. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? again and again we look up to the moon // 细算浮生千万绪 for Mysterious Lotus Casebook. I seldom do canon rewrites but it was fun trying to work out what bits of canon I could mix back in since this is set 10 years pre-canon.

04. What work of yours has the most hits? Definitely Not Haunted (Anymore) for Shadowhunters at 8,094 hits, but I started posting that last year. For a fic that was posted this year, again and again we look up to the moon // 细算浮生千万绪 for Mysterious Lotus Casebook at 6,788 hits.

05.  What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? I don’t expect, only hope haha. But I was pleased that readers had fun with Definitely Not Haunted (Anymore) since the SH fandom generally isn’t big on horror (which is a little ironic since the source material is hunting demons and supernatural creatures lol)

06. Favourite title you used? it ends or it doesn't // 奈何吟 for Mysterious Lotus Casebook

07. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? I had 5 titles from lyrics, all from different artistes. I tend to prefer poetry as my inspiration.

08. Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Di Feisheng x Li Lianhua

09. Favourite pairing you wrote for this year? Dihua, I’d say. 

10. What work was the quickest to write? Definitely now I've got you in my sights // 你眼里的一首情歌, I think I wrote it in half an hour.

11. What work took you the longest to write? I think again and again we look up to the moon // 细算浮生千万绪 because it was more plot heavy.

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? Too many lol

13. What’s your longest work of the year? can’t read my poker face at 52k+ words, but that’s a collab. For my solo work, again and again we look up to the moon // 细算浮生千万绪 at 41k+ words.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year? Probably 百年好荷 from variations on a theme // 主题变奏曲 for MLC week, at 537 words.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Definitely Dihua Infernal Affairs AU, MLC post-canon AU river crossing // 彼岸歌 collab, my fic for Dihua zine, a Malec casefic, and a couple of fics for Fangs of Fortune. I also have a RWRB fic that is half-posted, hopefully I have enough energy to finish it as well next year.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Alternate Universe - Modern Setting 

17. Your favourite character to write this year? Di Feisheng

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? Also Di Feisheng lol

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Zhao Yuanzhou x Wen Xiao x Zhuo Yichen OT3

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most? I usually re-read my fic when someone comments on an old fic and I need to re-read to respond to comments. I think this year it might be Monsters (posted in 2018 for Shadowhunters) because I made a fanfic trailer for it and that attracted some new readers.

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year? 3,010 for works posted this year but that includes the kudos for the two long fics I started last year. IDK how many kudos for older works.

22. Which work has the most comments? can't read my pokerface at 217 comment threads

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year? For MLC, can't read my pokerface and river crossing // 彼岸歌 both with @exitvelocities. For MDZS reverse bang, being a teenager sucks with @honeyedknife. For Shadowhunters, my reverse bang fic Lightwood After Dark with @moni26 and I’ve hungered for your touch with @cheezieball-blog. I also did some art prompts for the SH reverse bang.

24. Did you write any gifts this year? no sweeter taste // 特别甜 and the moon in the water // 镜中花，水中月 for Dihua exchange, and again and again we look up to the moon // 细算浮生千万绪 for sumeria 

25. Did you receive any gifts this year? no fic gifts, but I did get lovely art from @sumeriasmith and @greentealycheejelly! <3

26. What’s your most common category? M/M

27. What do you listen to while writing? I have some generic playlists for action or spooky fic, but this year it’s been mostly the OST of the respective shows lol.

28. Favourite work you wrote this year? I think again and again we look up to the moon // 细算浮生千万绪 because it gave me the chance to delve into the world-building logic of the poisons and neili of the characters.

29. Favourite line/passage you wrote this year? From the moon in the water // 镜中花，水中月:

The tide has passed its peak, the waves crashing on the shore dragging whatever they find back into an ocean that is still restless from the storm. He will never have another opponent worthy of his dao, and perhaps it's time that he faced that reality. He won't break it the way that Li Xiangyi broke Shaoshi, but he thinks that it would not be such a bad idea to tie the broken pieces of Shaoshi to his dao and let the ocean take them both.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? First time writing OT3 for Fangs of Fortune. I’m very much a OTP sort of person, and even if I find the idea of some OT3s cute, it usually doesn’t inspire me to write for it. I guess what usually attracts me is the 宿命感 (sense of destiny) or "it was always you for me" between characters, and it's rare to find a OT3 where it exists between all three characters, though perhaps less so for Wen Xiao x Zhuo Yichen.

--

No-pressure tagging if you want to play: @dragongirlg-fics @demy85 @yeliuxi @howdaretrashships @renshengs @moni26

[author-chan06]

Remrom Trick or Treat!!

Hello, anon! I’m so glad to have a trick or treater, so I spun the wheel I’m using and… Treat it is! And for you I have a fic, filled with pining, supernatural creatures, found out secrets, and a happy ending! Pairing: Remrom/ Roman Sanders/Remus Sanders Wordcount: 2,848 A/N: This was supposed to be short. O-o What happened??? I think I just really lovedddd writing Fae Roman and doing world building and so… this happened. I hope you guys like this too, since I had way too much fun with it ahah Tws: Possessiveness, Codependency, Worry about being Abandoned or Hated, Implied and or Referenced Supernatural Bigotry and Hatred

Hidden Underneath

Summary: Roman gets turned into a fae, and struggles with the way this has changed him while trying to keep it from his brother who he is in love with and who makes his fae instincts go feral.

“Okay,” Roman whispers to himself, staring at the mirror and taking a deep breath, “I’ve got this. Everything will be fine. Remus has always been fine with the strange and absurd, and I’m his brother, it is not as if he will think me some kind of monster.”

Roman’s reflection shimmers as if covered in water or as if the mirror is mesmerized, something otherworldly peeking out from behind his eyes as he runs a hand over his skin and notices how any blemishes or scars or roughness that were there before have simply vanished, leaving him soft and kind of warm, as if he’s never even set foot in danger or as if he effortlessly glided through life without so much as a scratch. He remembers enough ridiculous dares to counter that though, and it just makes him panic even more, wondering how he’s going to explain this to anyone. And— 

Oh Hera, how is he even supposed to ever look away from the mirror when he looks like this? 

Truly, staring at himself is almost hypnotic now. His skin shines and his eyes seem to glow a stunning red. And he can almost hear music rising in his head. If he just presses his hand against the mirror, it would go through, he knows, the other fae would be there, and they could dance for years, they could shimmer and shine and play so many tricks on the humans nearby, he could be everything for millennium—

“Ro! I know you’re vain, but you’ve been ‘getting ready’ for like two hours, and if you don’t hurry, I’m throwing a molotov cocktail at the church!” 

Roman jolts, curses falling from his lips as he stumbles backwards— he only barely registers that they aren’t English curses as he turns to the door and glares at it. He quickly turns his words to English again to yell back, “I’m almost done! Remus, you promised no more fires this year! Don’t dishonor yourself, keep to your word and wait a minute!”

He takes another glimpse of himself in the mirror, and swallows as the call of the otherworld swells into something almost too much to resist— a Siren song that promises everlasting desires and excitement abounds, anything and everything and nothing and he wants it, he wants— But he rips himself away, dropping his eyes to the ground and swinging the door open.

Remus is standing outside, hand already curled around a bottle— though, Roman does note with relief, it is not a molotov— as he looks Roman up and down and his lips twist into a grin, “Looking good, Ro! Guess all that time wasn’t a total waste.” 

A glamor covers all his less human extremities and aura, and though it itches, Roman leaves it on, only letting some of the more just uncanny valley vibes be felt, just enough that he feels a bit off.

That sure is one way to explain this transformation, and all of the ways that it has affected him.

Roman sighs, and cocks his hip out, letting his hand sit there as he looks pointedly at the bottle, “We weren’t supposed to be drinking tonight.” 

Remus doesn’t know that Roman made that rule because he thinks it’ll be hard to explain his new found ability to drink five entire glasses of hard whiskey without as much as becoming tipsy or gaining one wobbly leg. But Roman has really been hoping he wouldn’t question it, since Roman has never been much of a drinker anyway— he was always quite the lightweight— He should have known that was a foolish hope.

“C’mon, Ro,” Remus whines, throwing an arm around Roman’s shoulder, “Don’t be such a stick in the mud! It’s Halloween, don’t we deserve to let loose? It’s basically the supernatural’s holiday! Their fucking— their spooky type of fucking Christmas!” 

Roman tenses, but he doesn’t push him off, if anything he finds himself leaning into it, the scent of ocean and fire engulfing him at the same time that feelings of amusement excitement and something almost warm hot bubbling need want need slam into him, sliding under his skin and making him shiver.

He tries to ignore it, and to ignore the way that the touch feels different in a way that Roman cannot quite classify, in a way that’s hard to explain, in a way that’s inexplicably more.

Roman shakes himself and lets out a sigh, though it feels forced, “Even if that was true, that means nothing for you. You are not supernatural, Remus. And we still have school tomorrow. You will regret it when you are confused— yet again— about how you ended up face first in the forest with a pack of werewolves, and haven’t finished your homework.”

“Now I know you’re full of it,” Remus grins, “I don’t regret anything about that. Those guys— and the Enby one, oh fuck that one fucked fun— were my best lays of this decade, Ro-Bro!”

Roman swallows down the flash bang of anger that bursts across his skin, having to yank Remus closer— he starts walking to make up for it— to stop Remus from noticing the way his eyes flare, his teeth baring themselves as if to bite him into shutting up about them. The pull also has the added benefit of getting Remus closer to him— so everyone knows they’re together, he thinks sharply— though he didn’t do it with that in mind, and it’s ridiculous really. Roman has never been the jealous type; especially not with Remus. He didn’t have a need to be; ever.

But oh he feels it now, and he’s sure he’s projecting it as strong as the smell of Remus’ faux cologne.

If anyone nearby has a sense for supernatural elements then they definitely felt that sharp spike, and will probably still be able to sense the angry type of biting look away stay away mine mine mine that he can feel surrounding them as they make their way outside, and for once since the disaster that started this, Roman is glad that Remus hadn’t been involved; he isn’t sure how he would explain this strong urge to him without outing himself as having feelings that he knows he should not. Though he may have been drumming up the courage for that talk before, now… Now Roman is not quite so sure that is a good idea.

“Yes, they may have been good,” The growl in his throat is hard to talk around, and he suddenly has quite the admiration for other supernaturals who he knows from experience have learned to work around these limitations and use them to their advantage. “But it was not a good situation, do not kid yourself. One of their claws slashed through your sternum like tissue. I do not want to spend another after Halloween morning in the hospital, or urgent care.” It had been excruciating, terrifying, and of course the first thing that Remus had said when he’d woken up, cotton mouthed and stitched up:

“So, who cleaned me out? Cause I know there was a lot of cum, and I don’t feel it anymore, kinda a shame—” Roman’s pillow hit his face before he could say more and Remus laughed, coughing as doctors and nurses rushed in and glared at Roman.

He’d dropped the pillow, but he had never apologized. And Remus never asked him to either.

“Okay maybe it wasn’t a good night,” Remus finally concedes, his grin not faltering for a minute as he curls an arm around Roman’s waist and the night air hits their faces. The cold openness of the air tastes like salt and dry ice, and it’s strange, because he doesn’t exactly feel cold, nor does he start to shiver, or gain goosebumps, but he does feel the chill settle over his skin, forcing him to seek warmth in his brother's side, his skin a light warmth against Roman’s, his eyes a burning sensation against the chill. “But this is just some wine! No claws will be near my dick— or ribs— tonight!”

A vampire— one that looks kind of familiar but he finds that they’re too slippery to recognize, as if all of their colors and limbs are curling around themselves, their scent and look not distinguishable between the rest of the world, and that’s alarming, because he should know them, he should, the feeling of it is right on his tongue, but he cannot—  does a double take at them, and Roman narrows his eyes— panic and protective instincts surging in his chest and into his aura, until the supernatural ducks away, clearly deciding that whatever they want or need simply isn’t worth the risk of setting him off.

His breathing shutters, something terrifyingly satisfied rising in his chest that he tries to ignore as Remus continues to ramble at his side, “— If anything I’ll have some flippers around me if you know what I mean,” He wiggles his brows and Roman blinks, brows furrowing as he looks over at his brother.

“No, actually. I do not know what you mean.”

“Ro,” Remus practically deadpans, “That mermaid I’ve been flirting with for months now? You know the one that was in my Interpersonal Comm Class, and did that whole speech at the supernatural rights rally talking about how the school needed to have better ways for them to get around in water if they wanted or had some type of emergency; the one that you specifically called: A Cutiepie? You know, that one?”

Patton Hart, Roman remembers, his stomach twisting, because— yes, he had called him that, and he doesn’t even disagree now— Patton is objectively the sweetest creature on campus, and has light brown hair that matches his eyes, and a face that’s soft and round like mermaids often have, and he has seemingly never so much as had an argument with anyone about anything— but something about Patton is now unsettling, as if something underneath his skin is rebelling against the idea of Patton being just sweet without something wrong going on. As if he’s now inherently more suspicious than he was just a few days before.

The idea of Remus anywhere near Patton makes Roman’s blood boil, and he has to violently push away the urge that tells him to curl around Remus tight enough that he cannot move, that he cannot leave and go see a mermaid—

“Are you sure that is a good idea?” Roman chokes out instead, reeling from the intrusive, strange, out of character, borderline hateful bigoted thought that has jumped from his mind. “Don’t mermaids have a curfew? I thought they were supposed to be back in the water by twilight? Are you saying,” Don’t, don’t, don’t. “You’ll be going back into the water with a dro— Patton?” He stares wide eyed at the ground at that slip, because that’s something he would never say, not in a normal situation, not even if the mermaid was cruel, he would never be so cruel back himself, but oh he really cannot stand the idea of Remus with a mermaid, with another supernatural that is not himself— And it feels like ants under his skin; denying himself the ability to tell Remus as such and make sure he stays with him, to make sure that everyone knows he’s taken—

And surely, he would be better company, he can do so much more than Patton, he knows Remus so much more than Patton

He can give Remus so much more; the Earth, the Land, the Sky. He can show him the highest peaks of the world and shield him from all harm. He can immortalize him in the most beautiful of ways. He—

Remus pokes Roman in the arm and he jolts, eyes swinging over to catch his brothers, who looks vaguely concerned, hand looping around his elbow as he leans against him and asks, “Bro, are you okay? You’ve been kinda… spacey tonight.” He pauses, “And yesterday too, actually.”

“I—” He doesn’t know how to say it. How does one tell their twin brother that they were tricked into becoming a fae? A fae that has so little control over their powers and instincts that even a slight look in their direction makes his aura scream to look away from them. A supernatural that many of the world despises. A creature that is known for being immoral and tricking people into sinning for amusement or pure boredom. How can he say such a thing, to admit to such a thing, to such power. Will Remus think he’s horrible for having it? Will Remus be scared of him? It makes his hands shake.

Roman is, it seems, at a crossroads. Though this one is more complex than two different paths to take, and all of them seem to run right to Hell. 

Perhaps finding a crossroads demon would be easier than this. … Not that Roman believes in those— he knows the history of those myths and how stereotypical they are— but he now understands why so many, humans and supernaturals alike, have seeked them out.

Roman curls his fingers around his brother's arms, savoring the warmth as his resolve wavers and then hardens. This may be the last time they ever touch, after all, and so he wants to remember it, to imprint it in his skin, for as long and as well as he can.

“Something happened,” Roman starts with, both of the brothers stopping in the alley they had been cutting through to get to the house party, “A couple days ago. On Wednesday, I believe?” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t really matter, but yes, I was approached by a, by—” His face flushes in embarrassment, and he takes a breath to try again.

“A fae?” Remus offers, brow quirked in amusement.

“Yes, thank you,” Roman rolls his eyes, “I was approached by a fae and—” 

Roman freezes, stomach plummeting as his heart jumps, rounding on Remus and staring as his brother laughs, leaning into him. The flush of his face burns up his skin and he hisses when he asks, “How long have you known? Why didn’t you say anything! I’ve been fretting about talking about this for days, struggling with what to do daily and how, and if I would lose you, and you—” His voice cracks and Remus finally stops laughing slowly, sighing as he pulls Roman closer and they tumble to the ground of the alley way. Roman’s nose scrunches but he shifts closer to Remus, and clutches at him hard, almost desperate in the way he has to stamp down the urge to bite and press them so close their ribs knock together, to get the reassurance he wants and bind him in some way he cannot escape—

“Sorry, Ro,” Remus mumbles, “I didn’t really know how to bring it up either. Thought you would eventually, and hey you did!” Roman sends him a withering glare and he giggles awkwardly. “Right, but uh, yeah, I kinda was gonna drop some hints tonight at the party, and see how you reacted but uh,” He glances around the alleyway, “I don’t… think I’m gonna be doing that anymore.”

“And you’re not gonna be going home with Patton either.” Roman growls, finding that now that that secret is out, his lips feel loser, the glamor shimmering away just enough that Remus is hit with the overwhelming aura that now surrounds Roman. 

It also lets Roman smell him more thoroughly.

Excitement. Curiosity… Desire.

Remus curls his own hand around Roman’s neck and leans closer, his eyes shiny and dark at the same time. The smell of fire rises with the tide and Roman’s chest feels warm warm warm and his fingers itch to touch, and with the way Remus is looking at him, he knows he can. 

He scrambles to press his fingers to his brother's stomach and feel the way it moves underneath. Mortal and alive and right here with him. Not gone, not angry, because Remus knew the whole time, and still invited him out; he hadn’t treated him any differently, he hadn’t had any problem with it whatsoever. Roman falls a little more in love, and kisses Remus right on the lips, swallowing the surprised but excited noise he makes and threading their fingers together beside them, as he breaks out into a giddy grin, canines flashing.

This is going to be confusing and frustrating, surely. Roman still needs to learn how to control his powers and himself, and he still needs to actually get information about how Remus knew about him, to know if anyone else is privy to that information. But for now, Roman is more than happy to just let himself indulge in Remus, and just be fae.

Roman does end up binding Remus to him for eternity— he doesn’t even need to ask. 

Remus stays, and he comforts, and Roman… Roman presses kisses to his skin and thanks him for it for eternity, forever grateful to have someone so understanding and so very his.

@remrom-trickrtreat

[wolverinesbuttcheeks]

mirrored hearts

These photos (⬆️⬇️) are how ai imagined them soo… ya!

Title: Mirrored Hearts

Word Count (so far): ~2,600 Pairings: Sam Winchester x Amanda | Dean Winchester x Dina Genre: Supernatural Romance, Slow Burn, Action Setting: Mid-season 5 era Summary: When a hunt brings the Winchesters to a small town in Colorado, they expect the usual salt-and-burn. What they don’t expect is to find two women who are almost mirror images of themselves—gritty, sarcastic, loyal to a fault… and impossible to ignore. Amanda and Dina Grey have spent their lives chasing monsters and saving people, just like Sam and Dean. But when their paths collide, so do their hearts—and destiny has never been more complicated.

Part One: Reflections in the Fog

A full moon hung above the Colorado hills like a pale watchful eye, casting silvery light over the empty road. The forest rustled, alive and waiting. Somewhere beyond the trees, something was hunting.

And so were they.

Dina Grey killed the headlights and let her souped-up black '71 Barracuda roll to a stop beside the rusting welcome sign for “Red Hollow.” She chewed her gum, eyes scanning the woods.

“Small town, high body count,” she muttered.

Amanda, her younger sister by five years, leaned forward from the passenger seat. “Three disappearances in one week. All on the edge of the forest. You thinking skinwalker?”

Dina shrugged. “Maybe. Could be a wendigo. Whatever it is, it’s fast, quiet, and smart.”

Amanda checked the sawed-off in her lap. “So are we.”

Dina smirked and knocked on the roof of the car. “Let’s show it who’s boss.”

Across Town

Dean Winchester took a swig of lukewarm coffee from a gas station cup and winced. “Ugh. This is a war crime.”

Sam glanced up from his laptop. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, Dean. What were you expecting?”

“A miracle. Or at least a cup that doesn’t taste like regret.”

Dean paced the creaky motel room, boots heavy against the threadbare carpet. “So what do we have?”

“Three victims, no signs of struggle. Last seen near the edge of Red Hollow Woods. All disappeared at night. No EMF, no sulfur. Just gone.”

Dean frowned. “Could be a wendigo.”

“I thought that too. But the weather’s been too warm. And one guy’s wife said he kept dreaming of his dead brother. Like, vivid nightmares.”

Dean paused. “Ghosts?”

“Maybe. But ghosts don’t usually lure people into the woods.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “So we’re flying blind.”

Sam’s lips quirked. “When are we not?”

Collision Course

The woods were quiet that night, too quiet. Dina crouched beside a tree, flashlight in one hand, machete in the other. Amanda crept just behind her, EMF in hand.

“Any hits?” Dina whispered.

Amanda shook her head. “Nothing.”

Just then, a low crack echoed through the trees—footsteps.

They spun, weapons raised.

But instead of a creature, two men stepped into the clearing. One tall, long-haired, and cautious. The other broad-shouldered, green-eyed, with a gun trained low but ready.

Everyone froze.

“You hunters?” the taller man asked.

“Depends,” Dina said slowly, narrowing her eyes. “You FBI or actual hunters?”

The shorter man holstered his gun. “Name’s Dean. This is my brother Sam. We’re working the case.”

Amanda and Dina exchanged glances.

“Well, isn’t this a fun surprise,” Dina drawled. “I’m Dina. This is my sister Amanda.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait… Dina and Amanda Grey?”

“You’ve heard of us?” Amanda asked, a little too quickly.

Sam nodded. “Couple of sisters who’ve been bouncing around the Midwest cleaning up vampire nests and punching demons. Yeah, we’ve heard of you.”

Dina grinned. “Good. Then you know not to get in our way.”

Dean smirked. “Noted.”

Later That Night

They made camp in an abandoned ranger station just off the main trail. Four sleeping bags, a shared thermos of strong coffee, and enough weapons to take down an army.

Amanda sat across from Sam, holding a silver blade and polishing it absentmindedly.

“You always this quiet on hunts?” he asked, voice gentle.

She smiled faintly. “Only when I’m thinking. You?”

“Only when I’m watching someone sharpen a blade like a pro.”

She glanced up, meeting his hazel eyes. “Flattery, Sam? I thought you were the polite one.”

He chuckled. “I am. But I’m also honest. You remind me of... me.”

Amanda tilted her head. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“With the way I used to think? Maybe not. With the way I fight now? Absolutely.”

Amanda’s smile deepened.

Across the room, Dean leaned against a wall with his arms crossed, watching Dina line up knives on a bench.

“Meticulous,” he said.

She shrugged. “I don’t like being caught off guard.”

“You remind me of... well, me.”

Dina rolled her eyes. “God help me.”

Dean laughed, full and warm. “I like you already.”

She looked up then, eyes bright but guarded. “Don’t get attached.”

“Too late.”

too be continued???

[myplutoisms]

supernatural plot wishlist —

i am itching to get some supernatural, horror, or dystopian plots going! i'm just gonna go wild and share a handful of ideas i've been wanting to write, and if you're interested in a starter based on any of them, feel free to like this post! i'd love to brainstorm the plots and muse pairings beforehand, so if there's a specific plot that you're hoping for, shoot me a message and we can chat! if you don't, i'll just choose a random idea and random muse to throw at you.

1. our muses were best friends since they were kids, up until muse a went missing. it's now three years later, and muse a shows up on muse b's doorstep... and hasn't aged a day. 2. muse a is a newly-turned supernatural creature, and enlists the help of muse b (either a hunter or a regular old human) to hunt down his maker. 3. enemies or frenemies through lifetimes. muses can both be vampires, can be witches from rival covens, or one muse can be a hunter with the other a supernatural creature. 4. apocalyptic setting, in which muse a is a member of a large group, and muse b is a newcomer who is rumored to be immune to the virus that caused the end of the world. 5. in a world where supernaturals are the majority and humans the minority, somehow muse a is still completely oblivious. muse b is a supernatural creature who decides to have fun with muse a's unawareness. 6. dystopian setting, several years into an apocalypse. muse a thinks they're one of the last humans left, until they suddenly pick up static on the radio. 7. a supernatural romeo and juliet? a hunter's secret relationship with a supernatural creature, a romance between two witches despite a coven feud, a vampire swooning over a werewolf even though a werewolf bite is toxic. 8. an until dawn situation, our muses spending a weekend with a group of friends in the woods when people start going missing. can they trust each other? do they stick together or start throwing blame? 9. muse a is a ghost, and they realize that muse b is the only person that can see them. 10. our muses are a bonded witch and familiar who absolutely cannot stand each other.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 36 – MONSTERFUCKING

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: antigrav_vector

antigrav_vector is such an amazingly creative writer when it comes to explicit monster fics, and I couldn't love them more for that. They come up with tons of fantastic concepts, and I especially love how they explore xeno-biology in a lot of their work. If you're looking for some excellent monster smut, you've come to the right place!

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

Collared and Bound

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 2,804 Tags: Vampire/Werewolf Sex, Dom/Sub, Mating Bites

Summary: This is utterly self-indulgent trashy supernatural romance fic with trashy smut. You've been warned.

Reasons why I love it: The modern day Romeo and Juliet, except it's werewolves and vampires. I love how Steve indulges Tony in what he needs - or rather what they both need in the end. And I especially loved the tidbits about what their relationship means for them in the socio-political context. This fic is wonderful, and you should definitely read it!

Straight up, with a Twist

Pairing: Steve/Tony/Pepper Rating: E Words: 3,612 Tags: A/B/O, Tentacle Sex, Dirty Talk

Summary: The Avengers came across some weird glowing plants during one of their missions, and that has consequences no one expects. Steve, Tony, and Bruce got exposed, but only two of them are showing any kind of symptoms. Such as they are. Pepper doesn't know how to react at first, when she finally finds out exactly what these symptoms are. Both her lovers have tentacles, all of a sudden. They're also doing their best to seduce her.

Reasons why I love it: Pepper is really having the time of her life here. I love tentacles in all shape or form, and this version of tentacle anatomy is super intriguing. Especially the fact that Steve and Tony both kept their genitals. Definitely check this one out, it's great!

Tap (that) Root

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: E Words: 3,735 Tags: Plant Hybrid Steve, Sex Pollen, Dom/Sub

Summary: Things go very awry on a mission, but oddly enough Bucky's enjoying every minute.

Reasons why I love it: Bucky being so turned on by the fact that Steve is restraining him with his own body is really fucking hot. The whole fic had me fanning myself, there are so many great lines. I hope you give this one a shot, because antigrav_vector and Quarra did a fantastic job!

Submersive Tactics

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 6,112 Tags: Bucky and the Winter Soldier as Separate People, Consentacles, Synaesthesia

Summary: Steve and Bucky have more or less managed to calm James down, and Tony's done with his upgrades. That means experimenting with Bucky and James' new ability to gain temporary octopus arms.

Reasons why I love it: Being able to taste emotions through your tentacles is such a kick-ass concept! I love the differing points of view, especially the descriptions of how Bucky and James perceive Steve and Tony's tastes through their newly gained senses. This fic is super fun and hot as hell, and you should definitely read it!

He Followed Me Home (Can I Keep Him?)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 7,748 Tags: Mer-Steve, Fluff and Smut, Telepathy

Summary: Tony was hot on the trail of the Xi'an'du daggers with Pepper and Jarvis at his side, when another startling discovery left him feeling like he got slapped in the face with a fish. Merfolk, it turned out, weren't as mythical as he'd always thought. Really, in retrospect, he probably should have known better than to think that, after all his experiences with magical creatures and artifacts, but, well, he's not perfect.

Reasons why I love it: I love the merman lore in this fic, it really raises the stakes for the smut at the end to know why Steve approached Tony in the first place. And the whole telepathic aspect is super fun too. This fic is great, and you should definitely read it!

[grelleswife]

Hey this is maybe a strange request but I was wondering if you had any good anime recommendations ?

I've been watching JJK and I've been left feeling a bit disappointed with the writing (it feels kinda all of the place and it feels like characters are dying just for the sake of dying)

So I'm kinda looking for something with darker themes and also maybe with supernatural elements, but that gives all the characters good arcs and development and also maybe is a bit on the happier side?

But honestly anything will do I'm just looking for some new stuff

I've been thinking of watching Vanitas no Carte so that one's already on my list

Hi, anon! I understand your frustration; the despair of the Shibiya arc had become rather gratuitous by the end of Season 2. :/

VnC was one of the first shows that came to mind while I was reading your ask, so you’re already ahead of the curve! Content warnings I recall off the top of my head include child death, nonconsensual blood drinking (which carries certain unpleasant implications in vampire media), use of children for scientific experimentation, and unsavory dynamics (aka the man repeatedly disregarding the woman’s boundaries) in the canon m/f pairing. However, the quality of the story and its unmistakable queerness still make Vanitas no Carte a worthwhile watch, in my opinion. And the manga is even better!

Some other recommendations I can think of, albeit with varying ratios of darkness to good character development and happy moments, are listed below. Please note that content warnings provided are based off my hazy recollections and thus are not comprehensive.

Mushishi

Though existing beyond the realm of human perception, the diverse array of primitive lifeforms known as mushi can warp their surroundings—and the people inhabiting them—in bizarre, sometimes frightening ways. As a mushishi, Ginko is one of the rare few who can see and interact with these creatures, and travels Japan lending assistance to those struggling to coexist with the mushi. Suffused with a quiet melancholy, this anime is perfect to watch on a rainy day with a cup of tea in hand.

Content warnings: Body horror

Mononoke

Nope, not the Studio Ghibli film that gave birth to the classic “I’ll cut your throat” ship meme. This 2007 anime follows the enigmatic and possibly immortal Kusuriuri (medicine seller) as he helps people impacted by mononoke, malevolent spirits that latch onto negative emotions. However, he can only dispel these spirits by uncovering their true nature and the reason for the appearance, forcing him to play detective along the way. Though a spiritual cousin of sorts to Mushishi, the two shows vary radically in style: Whereas Mushishi’s color palettes tend to be earthy and subdued, Monoke’s animation pushes the envelope with a dizzying, gaudy spectacle that could have come straight out of a drug-induced nightmare.

Content warnings: Violence (including violence against women), discussions of forced abortion, body horror, a highly questionable relationship between a monk and his sister, eyestrain (the colors are gorgeous but can be a bit overwhelming at times)

Otherside Picnic

College students Sorawo Kamikoshi and Toriko Nishina team up to periodically explore the Otherside, a parallel universe where urban legends pose all-too-real threats, growing closer over the course of their adventures. Fans of the light novels on which this 12-episode anime is based have criticized the differences in tone between the adaptation and the source material, complaining that the anime tends to come across as a bit goofier. However, as someone who went into the series blind, I had a fun time! Otherside Picnic also numbers among the rare examples of sapphic anime with adult protagonists, although most of Sorawo’s and Toriko’s relationship is relegated to slow-burn due to the short run time. Their black cat/golden retriever dynamic is still a joy to behold!

Content warnings: Occasional gun violence, body horror

Death Parade

The souls of the recently deceased are pitted against eachother in nerve-wracking games meant to uncover the darkest corners of their psyches so that beings known as arbiters may pass judgement on their fate—reincarnation, or eternity in the void. Alongside his assistant, Chiyuki, the arbiter Decim begins to gain greater insight into humanity while starting to question the very role for which he was created. This underrated gem will probably reduce you to a puddle of tears at least once, so have a box of tissues ready.

Content warnings: Violence, assault, suicide, depictions of alcohol use (much of the action takes place at an otherworldly bar)

Noragami

Hiyori Iki’s ordinary middle school life is turned upside down when a bus accident weakens the link between her body and soul, enabling her to perceive the gods and spirits in our midst…including Yato, a brash yet destitute young god without a single shrine to his name. How will their fates intertwine? Written along a similar vein to Fruits Basket and Kamisama Kiss, Noragami charms the viewer with its sillier shenanigans while ripping your heartstrings to shreds during the darker moments. Although the manga (at least what I’ve read of it) is superior, and the anime only adapts a handful of the original arcs, it still holds its own. And the OPs are excellent! 👌

Content warnings: Body horror, child death, suicide