#Luca the werewolf

[soranatus]

WOLF KING — Coming to Netflix 2025, an adaption of the Wereworld book series Set in a world where mortal man is ruled over by the Werelords, a teenage shepherd boy, Drew Ferran, his life is changed forever when he discovers he’s the last surviving Wolf King

[konako]

Werewolves don’t do well in this heat :(

everything sucks >:(

[the-lark-ascending69]

Little lumax doodle... werewolf Max doodle... possesive wolf girlfriend who smells bad vibes coming from her boyfriend's new jock friends.

[tempest-toss]

ᏇᏋ'ᏒᏋ ᏒᏋᏗᎴᎩ ᎦᎧᏒ ᎩᎧᏬ, ᏕᎥᏒ! ᏝᏬፈᏗ ᎷᏗᎩ ፈᎧᎷᏋ ᎴᎧᏇᏁ ᏇᏂᏋᏁᏋᏉᏋᏒ ᎩᎧᏬ ᏗᏝᏝ ᏗᏒᏋ ᏒᏋᏗᎴᎩ. (We're ready for you, sir! Luca may come down whenever you all are ready.) - @upper-admin-scp

Four, in a modest 6'10" form, carries an eager Luca on his back as they approach the estate. Four catches eyes with the guard and smirks, knowing the truth behind him. Luca also gives him a look, although it is to stick out his tongue like the child he is (:P)

Four gives a hearty knock on the door.

[sun-ni-day]

Our feral wolfcubs in the wild

MacGyver 5x11 C8H7CIO + Nano-Trackers + Resistance + Maldives + Mind Games

[kaitlinamberxo]

“My mother wanted me to choose between being a wolf, and being a human. Granny did too. You were the only person who ever thought it was okay for me to be both.”

kaitlin's 100 favorite female muses — 40/100: Ruby Lucas / Red Riding Hood

[the-entitie]

Aphla_Werewolf_[Lucas]_×_male_reader_

Good boy~

《Previous ▪︎•°|°•▪︎ Masterlist ▪︎•°|°•▪︎ Next (not yet complete)》

</T|W> slight dub-con or no explicitly stated consent, senting, a/b/o style rut, edging, riding, multiple rounds, depiction of slight injuries, and thier healing.

</C|W> Smutt this time :p, bottom oc werewolf, top amab reader,

Lucas had come in with a dislocated shoulder and some nasty scrapes. Come to think of it, a lot of the wolves had been showing up with these kind of scuff marks.

You didn't really ask. Just patched them up, but if someone would know and wouldn't care that, it's you asking. It would be Lucas.

As you lifted his wrist, warned him of the pain, with a flat palm against his collar bone just over the dislocated socket. A quick shove and slight twist of his wrist had the joint back in place if a little sore.

His breath hitches with the movement, and he holds onto the coat you use with treating wounds. His hands cramping as he grips onto the stained fabric, holding you there to ride out the pain with his forehead resting gently on your sternim. The puffing breaths shifted the loose shirt under him while you ready the disinfectant over his shoulder.

That's another thing the wolves have taken to. Touch.

Any of the 'pack' as you call them would negate any distance and practically beg you for some form of skin contact. You weren't sure why, but you knew that's how familial relationships are stabilized.

Lucas was the only one to hold on. Or hold you there. Every other wolf would just brush up against you and then let you step back.

"You know."

He looked up at you, his chin resting on your sternum. Eyes looking a little to dilated for the adrenaline drop he should be in now.

"I've seen your groupies more often this week."

"Sorry." His arms wind tighter round ypur waist. Not even pouting about the name-calling. "Lots of the pups are going through the 'fight for my mate' phase of growing up."

"Thought that was just a wives tail."

"Nope very real."

"And they need some big strong Alpha to break it up?"

This odd rumble vibrates against your chest. It's almost enough to distract you from patching his spine up.

"I'm more to stop the ones that go past just play fighting."

"I need to clean your neck. And well, the other cuts." You pause when those same dark eyes flicker up to you. Clearly, you weren't clear enough.

"You need to move, so I can help you."

"Help sounds nice."

"Yes so move"

Lucas only shuffles back, unlooping his arms but still holding on to you. Forcing you to kneel down so you could actually clean and tape the wounds he came here for.

Those ink filled eyes still stare as you start on the cuts along his ribs and chest. Hardly flinching when the antiseptic cuts through the dried blood, and you have to push against him to stop the renewed bleeding. His pupils almost seem blown, and the scientist in you wonders if this fight for a mate actually releases a hormorn that keeps his eyes like that.

It's almost like he's looking at the prize of the fights that's been happening. Well, you haven't seen any of the disputes, displays, whatever they really are. So you can speculate their use.

"All done," with a pat to his chest, to pull his attention back from the dazed look he has. "Anything else? Or are there more."

"I don't know. I don't think you're done."

"What? Did I miss anything?"

"Yeah,"

Lucas smirks, leaning back on his hands. Shirt right there at the end of the table, but he refuses to put it on.

"I need a kiss to make it better"

Red flushes all through your neck and up your ears, eyes going wide. This was just a joke right?

But you leaned down, hovering just a breath from him. It was almost serene. Just standing there in the cold open room, this thick emotion hanging off the air between you and him.

Lucas was the one to break the quiet moment.

The split skin of his lip was near sharp as he kissed you, just a soft press at first. But then you lean up against him. Feeling every breath he took with the rise or fall of his chest against yours. His skin radiating heat like a furnace.

Those ruff hands gliding up, under your work coat to trace your jaw and settle along your neck. That same rumbling noise vibrating agaisnt you as he growls.

Some wolves can growl as a sign of playfulness, a fake growl for lack of a better term. It's more a tease or verbal invite to play. And he keeps growling as he pulls you impossibly closer. Arching up into you, just to grumble louder.

The old and ratty matris you use for the more hurt patients, bending under your weight. Lucas opens his eyes to stare at you with a golden ring, elipsing lust blown pupils. Fangs nip ever so softly over your lips and toungs, with soothing kisses placed after the harder nicks.

Must be the full moon looming to rise at the end of the week, amoslt two days of hyper wolves apparently now fighting to prove their love.

As if sensing your distraction, Lucas hauls you up, dropping you beneath him. Those ruff hands are still tracing any link to skin it can find along any gap between your waist and shirt. Happily feeling over the scars he watched you patch up. Panting down your throat between taking your breath away with each searing kiss.

Straddling your thighs, striping your jacket, and shirt with rushed movements. Leading your own hands to his skin, begging in all but words for you to touch. Careful of the buises, you hear those playful growls start up. Now you can feel it vibrate in his chest against yours.

The air around you in this old place warming with each brush of hands, or roll of hips. It's burning this feeling of lust deeper into your soul than you thought would still be possible.

He's careful of the claws dawning his fingers when tracing the skin under your belt. Easily catching on the fabric and forcing you to detangle him from it.

When you've both shed the last layers, you start to realize why his pack mates jokingly call him Alpha.

All it takes is one slip of your fingers over his waist, against his spine, and he's practically presenting for you. Back dropping down so he could roll his ass back into your hands.

"Please."

Lucas laps his ruff tongue over your throat. Chasing the beating pulse thundering away under it, a thick fur scratching at your thighs.

Seems he's partially shifted. Ears replaced by his canine form, tail flopping over your knuckles as you need the muscle under it. But..

There was this. Fairy tail, of sorts.

It was some girl who would brag about her partners in bed. But if what she says is true.

"Hmm, that feels good."

Bingo.

"You're very good at this."

His tail does wag when complemented. Good to know.

It's just the simple sway the end, but maybe.

There's a simple lubricant in the top draw, and an audible thumping follows your breach of him. It's almost distracting, but none the less adorable.

With your dick now fucking up into him, rendering his mind completely blank besides those breathless little noises that he can't seem to keep in.

All it takes is him rolling his hips back into you for it to finally gain a rhythm. And for you to say,

"Fuck. You feel amazing."

The sudden moan and long whimper had almost worried you, and yet he clamped up like a vice. His dick jumping in time with his heart rate so, so close.

One hand on his throat, and the other rubbing along the base of his tail, you methodically take him apart. Finding every spot that makes his gasp, every angle that makes his back draw tight or mouth hang open, every place to scratch raised red marks, suck darling bruises. All of it.

You keep him lost in the pleasure but never enough to cum, even when hes close its easy to pull at his hair, scratch at his hips, to keep him feeling good. But not enough.

Right when you know you have him on the edge, right when you know he's desperate enough to listen.

"Good boy"

Lucas practically locks up. His orgasm rushed through him without any warning, his own cum dripping past his jaw and neck. Breath ragged, although he can't be to worn out.

As his tail still thumps against the inside of your thigh. Eyes practically glazed over before he started moving again.

"Just like that." You comand into his ear, watching it flick with the ghost of your breath against it, "good boy~"

[theclassymike]

Lucas Till taken by Igor Studios for the movie Wolves (2014)

[crypt-tids]

A Gift Unto the King

CW: illness, nausea, fainting, pregnancy loss, abortion discussion, medical procedure

25

In Sickness

Carmilla awoke to the cold chill of the hard, wood floor against her dewy skin. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, pulsing rapidly through her temple. She tried to collect herself, but her vision was blurred and doubled. With a series of hasty blinks, it slowly returned to its proper focus—a process that took a bit longer than she cared for. Cautiously, she shuffled her arm to prop herself up, peeling her sweat-stuck cheek away from the floorboards. Her skull rattled with painful throbs, the ringing in her ears nearly deafening. She felt lost and disoriented, panic threading through her as she tried to bring herself out of the fainting spell. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, the ringing grew dull and began to subside. With more force, she pushed herself up further, grunting from the strain on her groggy body. Carmilla’s arm shook beneath her slightly, a fierce aura piercing through her eyes as a sharp pain ricocheted through her skull. Instinctively, she pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead, letting out a harsh hiss.

Once the pain had lessened into a more tolerable ache, she glanced around through squinted eyes, finding herself alone in her chambers, uncertain of exactly how much time had elapsed in her involuntary absence. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed herself up from the floor, another sharp throb plunging into her forehead.

“Nn-” She squoze her eyes shut, keeping them clenched until she’d firmly righted herself. Lightheaded, she attempted to stand still, her body wobbling as her equilibrium stabilized. She had half a mind to grip the bed, lest the dizziness force her to the ground again, at least then she’d know where she’d land.

“Your highness?” A small, muffled, voice spoke through the closed chamber door, following a soft knock.

“Y-yes,” Carmilla grunted, opening her eyes, and pushing her body upright from the mattress, “come in.”

The door clicked against the squeaking hinges as it swung open. A small framed woman quickly slipped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. The ginger-haired maid glanced towards the queen, her eyes finding Carmilla in a dreadful state—something she had grown accustomed to in the passing weeks, though this time seemed to be the worst of it.

“Your highness, are you alright?” Aoife asked, her voice calm, but laden with concern.

“Mm.” Carmilla forced through a brief wave of nausea, “I’m fine, thank you.”

The queen felt a gentle hand squeeze her arm, and she glanced over to meet the hazel gaze of her maid, who’s brows had now upturned, forming a strong crease over the bridge of her nose.

“You look quite unwell, your highness.”

“More than usual?” Carmilla joked lightly, however, Aoife didn’t find the humor in it.

She did look more unwell than usual. Far more unwell. Her ashy skin glistened with sweat, her coils matting down against her damp forehead. The pale colored chemise no longer loosely draped over her body, but rather clung to it heavily, sticking to her chest and thighs. Aoife detected a slight tremble in the queen’s limbs, and she couldn’t be certain, but she felt a touch feverish.

“Please, sit down, I will get you some water.” The ginger guided the elf towards the chair, gripping her firmly as she lowered her into it.

Carmilla’s forehead felt dewy and her heart raced uncomfortably. The waves of nausea would ebb and flow, though thankfully not growing any further than a severe annoyance. Her head still furiously ached, and she wondered if perhaps she had hit it on the floor when she’d fainted, a theory confirmed by the tender soreness of her temple when her fingers lightly brushed across it.

Aoife held out a glass of fresh water to the queen, which she graciously accepted, before taking a cautious sip. The cool water settled in her stomach, a shiver running up her spine. Carmilla’s body jolted with tight trembles as her unease whittled away at her.

As her coils bounced aside, Aoife noticed an irritated, red mark near her temple, appearing a bit like a small scuff. Leaning down, she impulsively brushed the curls aside to get a better look. It wasn’t until Carmilla jerked away that she had realized she’d acted improperly.

“My apologies, your highness.” Aoife spoke timidly, pulling herself back.

Carmilla shrunk, letting out a long sigh.

“It’s fine.” The elf replied breathily.

“You hit your head.” Aoife persisted, her voice cautious.

“I’m fine.” Carmilla returned flatly.

“Your majesty, I-”

“I’m fine.” The queen shot sharply, taking the young maid by surprise.

Aoife stood silently, her worried eyes still fixed on the queen, but daring not to speak any further. Carmilla took another sip of water, shuddering as it settled into her nauseous stomach.

Glancing up, Carmilla’s eyes met Aoife’s—glossy green, shadowed by furrowed, ginger brows. Her cheeks were flushed light pink against her pale, freckled skin. Anxiously, she gnawed at her lower lip, now red and chapped.

The elf extended her hand towards Aoife. With a moment’s hesitation, the maid placed her hand in Carmilla’s, the warmth of her touch radiating up her arm, into her fluttering chest.

“I appreciate your concern, but please,” Carmilla gave Aoife’s hand a gentle squeeze, “do not worry too much. I promise, I’m fine.” She gave a soft smile that she hoped would look more convincing than it felt.

“It’s my job to worry about you, your highness.” Aoife stated calmly.

“I know.” Carmilla sighed. “But I assure you, there is nothing to worry about.”

Aoife frowned, and Carmilla shifted subjects.

“Help me get ready, yes? I think I would like to stroll through the garden today.” Though she most certainly did not feel in any right state to be strolling anywhere, she had hoped that Aoife’s anxiety would be eased by the idea of it.

Nodding, the ginger woman guided the queen to her feet, gathered her clothes, and helped her slip them on. The bodice of her dress fit snugly over her middle, despite her thin frame, and Aoife made an effort to loosen the laces down her back to compensate. Her fingers brushed over the wrinkles and folds of the fabric, smoothing them out. Grabbing a pair of gem adorned, leather shoes, she carefully slid them onto Carmilla’s feet, securing the laces around her slender ankle. Aoife couldn’t help but notice how sharp and angular her body had become. The softened roundness of her form had all but disappeared in the wake of her violent morning sickness, and the sight of this drastic change only made the young maid grow more concerned.

Once properly fitted, Aoife returned to her feet, draping a long cloak over her shoulders, and securely tying it in place. She reached up to tame a few wild coils, then stood back, hands tightly clasped in front of her.

“You look lovely, your highness.” The ginger woman spoke softly.

Carmilla smiled warmly.

“Would you care to escort me to the garden?” Asked the queen, extending a hand towards Aoife.

With an agreeing nod, the maid took her outstretched hand, and led her to the garden.

The air carried a crisp chill, but not overly unpleasant. Most of the leaves had turned by now, the distant mountains covered in brilliant yellows and fiery reds. Despite the changing of the seasons, the enchanted garden remained unphased, blooming even still as though it were freshly spring. The sweet scent of peonies wafted strongly on the breeze.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Carmilla broke the silence, her voice light.

“It is.” Aoife agreed, her eyes fixed on Carmilla.

The corners of her cherry lips upturned into a soft smile, and her eyes dazzled brilliantly in the midday sun. Everything about her glowed so warmly here in the garden, as though it was where she belonged—as if she were a part of it. The radiance of Carmilla’s aura extended well beyond her, and Aoife found it difficult to look away.

She watched as the elf lowered herself to the ground, kneeling in the dirt, before a large rose bush. Then, she noticed, Carmilla’s smile begin to fade.

“What is it, your majesty?” Aoife asked, lowering herself down beside the queen.

“Elvenwood had such beautiful roses.” She quietly replied, her fingers lightly brushing over the petals of a freshly unfurled flower.

“I’ve heard that Elvenwood is quite lovely.”

“It is.” Carmilla confirmed with a sigh. “On the outside, at least.”

“Do you miss it?” Aoife spoke sincerely.

“That depends.” Carmilla replied, her face scrunching for a brief moment as she thought, before finally continuing with a melancholic tone. “I miss its beauty.”

“Only its beauty?” The young maid inquired.

“It’s complicated, I suppose.” Carmilla huffed through her nose. “You know that feeling of missing something because it was all you knew, but growing to realize how utterly wrong so much of it was?” The queen’s eyes shifted towards the ginger, a dewy shimmer at their corners.

Aoife’s brows upturned, a small frown tugging at the edges of her mouth, but she didn’t speak.

Carmilla’s eyes fell to the flowers before her, gently bobbing in the breeze. Shoulders drooped, she curled her fingers around the fabric of her dress, pressing her palms firmly against her thighs.

“I had to put up with so much, without ever being granted a place to speak my mind.” The elf shook her head lightly, her ringlets bobbing against her jaw. “Not a single decision in my life was one that I, myself, had made. I was ordered to do as I was told, and never go against my family’s wishes—that their will was for the best, even if I couldn’t see it.”

Aoife watched the queen shrink into herself. She felt herself leaning towards her, as if the diminishing energy around Carmilla was somehow pulling her closer.

“I held my tongue, even when I desperately wished not to. I agreed to every plan and order they placed upon me.” Carmilla’s voice began to tremble as her tone elevated. “I allowed myself to be shipped off to a foreign land because it was in the best interest of my country, and I promised an elven heir to the house of Valke because my father willed it!” She spat sharply, ripping a rose from the bush and crushing it in her fist, Aoife flinching in surprise. With a huff, Carmilla settled the aggravated twitching of her lip, letting the tension slowly leave her body, as she released the crumpled petals from her palm. “Not marrying the king was the only decision I have ever made for myself, and it’s one that doesn’t even matter.”

“I think…” Aoife added cautiously, “that you’re wrong, your highness.”

Carmilla glanced up at the fiery haired woman, the breeze gently tussling her loose curls. Sunlight shimmered against her freckled skin, casting a pale glow around her, soft and warm.

“I think that decision mattered more than anything.” Aoife finished with a modest smile.

“How?” Carmilla asked, straightening her posture, wincing from a small pain in her side. “Marriage matters little when we are still bound by a forged bloodline.” Her voice shook slightly, distress still heavily lining her face.

“Perhaps… and, forgive me if I overstep, but… by refusing to wed, you established yourself as, well, you. A person, and not a pawn. It may not seem like much, your highness, but truly, it is everything.”

Carmilla’s chin quivered for a quick moment, before giving a small smile.

“Do you really think that my decision…” She forced down a wave of nausea, “mattered that much?”

Aoife leaned closer, despite every fiber of her being telling her to clam up, and act properly. Her hand shuffled over the dirt, brushing against small blades of grass and weeds. She could hardly stop herself. The radiant, glowing aura of the queen tugged at her, drawing her in, even in such a dreadful state.

Stop yourself, for the love of all things, stop yourself! But her heart, already pounding loud enough to hear, wouldn’t listen.

“I do.” Aoife replied, her voice hardly more than a shaken whisper.

“I hope you’re right.” Carmilla returned, her words brushing against Aoife’s lips.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, a mixture of excited nerves and exhaustion competing desperately within her. Aoife’s hand slipped closer, their fingertips nearly touching. So dreadfully she wished to close the gap, but her body fought against it. Carmilla felt cold sweat dampen her body, nausea catching in her throat. Aches plunged through her back and sides, her vision beginning to tunnel.

Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through Carmilla’s abdomen, buckling her over. She hissed, drawing a staggered breath, clutching her stomach. Hazy, black clouds crept over her eyes, pulsing with her heartbeat.

“Carmilla?!” Aoife lunged forward, catching the queen in her arms. “What’s wrong?!”

“Hah- nngh!” Carmilla grunted, sweat rolling down her temples.

“Carmilla!” The maid pulled the elf close, her tone becoming increasingly more panicked as her heart pounded furiously in her chest. “HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE! HELP!”

Carmilla’s body trembled, hot acid burning in her throat. Cold chills ran over her limbs, her palms clammy and tingling. She could hear Aoife’s frantic calls growing faint in her mind as the blackness consumed her and she slowly lost consciousness.

Vin paced the length of the solar, his fingers mindlessly stroking his chin as he thought. Lucas sat in the chair by the window, his hand resting delicately over his middle. The werewolf’s eyes followed the king closely.

“Is it possible we’re overthinking it?” Lucas asked with a sigh.

“Or we aren’t thinking enough.” Vin returned.

“I doubt that highly.”

“If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.” Vin leaned against the wall, his arms folded and ankles crossed.

Lucas clicked his tongue, before nibbling his lower lip. The baby fluttered softly, and he lightly drummed his fingers over his belly in response, catching Vin’s eye.

“They are just humans-”

“Which many of our citizens are.” Vin added.

“Right,” Lucas continued, “but, I mean, by comparison, curse-borns have the advantage of strength, and elves… well, they’re just assholes all around.”

“Not completely unfounded.” The vampire jokingly confirmed with a nod.

Lucas sighed, awkwardly pushing himself up from the chair, earning a small giggle from his husband to be. Once fully upright, he pressed a hand to his lower back, hoping to ease some of the soreness residing there to little avail.

“Vin, there hasn’t been an attack in over a month. You’ve secured our border, and Elvenwood has secured their’s. Your plan is working.”

“What if it stops working?” Vin interjected.

“Then we’ll deal with it.” Lucas stepped towards the king, his fingers reaching towards Vin’s tightly folded arms. “Recruitment has been going well and so has training. We’ll be ready for anything that comes our way, I know it.”

Vin shook his head, resting his hand over the werewolf’s, lightly stroking his knuckles with his thumb.

“I’m just a little on edge. I don’t trust the silence.”

“I know.” Lucas agreed on a long exhale. “But what else are we supposed to do? If we rush in, we risk losing every advantage we are working so diligently to build.”

Vin huffed through his nose, sharply.

“I’m not suggesting we be reckless.”

“Of course not.” Lucas replied.

Vin let his arms unfold, leaning his body towards Lucas, resting his head against the muscular man’s shoulder.

“I just want to put this war behind us.” Vin mumbled, wrapping his arms around the large man.

“I do, too.” Lucas spoke softly, “But, all things in their own time.”

Vin slid his head off of Lucas’s shoulder, his eyes wandering up to meet the lycan’s golden gaze. A reassuring smile graced his stubbled face, warm sunlight casting a radiant halo around him.

“I wish this war hadn’t had to happen in our time.” Vin spoke defeatedly.

“As do I.” The lycan agreed. “As does everyone faced with such hardships.” He gently pushed a strand of hair behind Vin’s ear. “But it did, and all we can do is get through it. Ideally, in one piece.” Lucas joked to lighten the mood.

“Yeah…” The vampire replied mindlessly, his hands sliding over the sides of Lucas’s rounded belly, and resting there.

His mind drifted, and Lucas quickly noticed the growing distance. The king’s brows creased as his crimson eyes remained fixed on the swell in his grasp. A tiny flutter bumped against his palm, but Vin didn’t smile like Lucas had expected him to, and he suddenly understood the real reason his lover was so on edge.

“We’ll be okay, you know.” Lucas broke the silence, snapping Vin from his daze. “I promise.”

“I want to meet him.” Vin whispered with a crack. “I want to watch him grow up. I need to be able to do that.”

“You will, Vin. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How?” Vin huffed incredulously. “I don’t think will and prayer will be enough to keep me alive out there.”

“No,” Lucas returned, confidently, “but I will be.”

Vin snapped his gaze to Lucas’s face, his brows furrowed tensely. Crimson eyes flashed as the vampire pieced together his lover’s implication.

“No.” The king snapped. “Lucas, no.”

“If you think I’m letting you run into battle without me, you’re sorely mistaken-”

“You’re pregnant!”

“And in a few months, I won’t be!”

The pair fell silent, the only sound, their huffy breaths. Vin clenched his jaw, and Lucas studied him warily, waiting for his lover to speak. Finally, the vampire let out a sigh, his features softening, despite his aura still maintaining a disapproving intensity.

“Even if this war doesn’t progress until after our child’s arrival, you’ll still need time to heal and rest.” Vin’s voice was flat and matter-of-fact.

“And I will.” Lucas pressed. “But I’m not going to sit around being useless-”

“You will do as you’re told!” Vin spat with a harshness that he hadn’t entirely intended.

Lucas jolted, his body retreating slightly. Vin hadn’t spoken to him that way in a long time, and it made him feel small and inconsequential—like he was nothing. Vin, regretting his outburst immediately, reached out to grab his lover’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Please, Lucas,” the vampire begged, “please don’t follow me into battle so blindly.”

“It’s my job-”

“Your job is to raise our son—to ensure that he still has at least one father at the end of this.”

“If I go with you, he will have both-”

“Or he will lose both.” Vin interjected sternly.

Lucas did not reply at first, instead, stewing in the hypothetical torment of his mind’s making. After a few moments, he pushed those dreadful thoughts aside, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Why do you sound so committed to dying in this war?”

“I’m not!” Vin retorted. “But there is an entire nation that wants to serve my head up on a silver platter to its king! Forgive me for being realistic.”

“Your highness-” A voice rang out from the doorway.

“What?!” Vin snapped unconsciously, turning his gaze to the intruder.

“P-pardon the intrusion, but, it’s the queen. Queen Carmilla has taken ill, she’s in the infirmary.” An older maid, with frizzy gray hair, rushed out, her voice shaken and uneasy.

Lucas and Vin exchanged worried glances, the tension of their previous disagreement rapidly disappearing. With hardly a thought, the pair took off after the maid, tailing her down the hall. Vin’s heart pounded in his ears as his mind raced, each foot falling faster than the last. He hadn’t even noticed that Lucas and the maid had fallen behind as he soared into the lead by a considerable distance.

Please, be okay! For the love of the gods, PLEASE BE OKAY!

Footsteps pounded loudly against the wood floor, thumping down the stairs, and clacking against the tile towards the infirmary. A small congregation of people had collected outside of the door, daring not to press through. As the king approached, they quickly cleared a path for him to enter.

Gasping for breath, Vin was met with the sight of a panicked Aoife, clasping Carmilla’s hand firmly, while the sibling healers raced around collecting supplies. Bowls, linen towels, fresh water, all set purposefully on the table to the side of the bed. Angelique hastily placed a jar of herbs and a pair of forceps down on the tabletop beside them, turning just in time to relieve the maid behind her of a freshly heated tea kettle.

“What’s going on? Is she alright?” Vin asked frantically, his eyes darting between the unconscious Carmilla, and Angelique, who now appeared to be brewing some kind of tea with the herbs from the jar.

Alistair skirted around the infirmary bed, rushing towards Vin. Quickly, he pulled the king’s attention, his face firmly set and unemotional, putting Vin further on edge.

“We need to make a decision quickly, your highness.” Alistair’s voice was low.

“What’s going on, what’s wrong with her?” Vin peeked at the queen over Alistair’s shoulder, his brows threatening to merge with the bridge of his nose.

“Her body… it’s failing.” Alistair stated with a hushed softness that he hoped wouldn’t carry into the hall.

“Failing? Y-you mean, what, she’s dying?” Vin’s heart thumped in his throat, his voice cracking.

“Yes.” Alistair confirmed quickly. “Our options are limited, as is our time. If we’re going to save the child, we need to act swiftly and precisely.” He explained.

“What about Carmilla? Will she be alright?”

“If we’re successful.”

“And if you aren’t?”

“They both die.” Alistair somberly answered on a breathy exhale.

Vin glanced back and forth between Carmilla and Alistair. His mouth felt dry and gravity tugged on his limbs. Every sound around him felt both dull and deafening as they sawed into his eardrums. It took everything in him to stay present and focused.

“How do I ensure she survives?” Vin asked, watching Aoife dab the dewy sweat from the elf’s brow with a damp cloth.

Alistair sighed heavily, giving the queen a quick glance before returning his gaze to the king.

“We terminate the pregnancy.”

Vin’s eyes remained fixed on the queen. So limp and fragile, she hardly seemed alive as it was. Alistair was right, there wasn’t much time, and he knew, deep in his soul, that she would never come out of this alive if he took the risk. No matter how fiercely it burned in his chest to lose the child, he would never be able to live with the guilt of losing her.

“Your majesty, it’s your decision. Please, make it quickly.” Alistair’s tone was firm, yet pleading.

Vin swallowed hard.

“End it.” He answered quietly, his voice shaken and wispy.

Alistair nodded, rushing over to Angelique’s side, instructing her to proceed. They worked together quickly, spinning around each other with the grace and speed of a choreographed dance. As their motions blurred, Vin’s mind went blank, his jaw unconsciously clenched, brows twitching. He watched Alistair shuffle Aoife aside, her fingers reluctantly slipping away from the queen’s. Everyone, with the exception of Vin and Aoife, were ushered from the room. Briefly, the king and the young maid locked eyes, the dread in each other’s gaze evenly matched, and Vin suddenly understood the depth of her heart, and his own began to break with it.

“Miss Aoife!” Angelique called, beckoning her over to aid in the procedure.

With a quick jolt, she rushed over, nearly tripping over her own feet as she moved into position.

The ginger held Carmilla’s leg, standing opposite Angelique, Alistair quickly preparing between them. Giving Vin a glance, Aoife nodded to him, silently relieving him of his presence in the room.

Vin stood still for a moment, blankly staring at the crowded bed, before shuffling out of the infirmary, and into the hall, the heavy, wooden door thumping shut behind him. The corridor had nearly emptied, with the exception of Lucas and Marion, who stood tensely apart, but anxiously awaiting Vin’s emergence.

“What is it, darling? Is Carmilla alright?” Marion asked, quickly approaching her son, reaching out to grab his hand.

His palms were sweaty, and his hands trembled furiously with nerves and adrenaline. He couldn’t find it in himself to meet his mother’s gaze as the gravity of the current events began thoroughly sinking in.

“No.” Vin finally answered, his voice hollow and broken. “They’re… trying to save her.”

“Save her? A-and the baby?” Marion pressed, her grip tightening.

Vin shook his head, and Lucas swallowed hard, his fingers tightly curling around the loose, shirt fabric draped over his belly.

Marion’s eyes flickered, but she refrained from inquiring further, sensing her son’s distress, instead extending an offer to get a drink and some food to take his mind off of it. Vin declined, insisting that he should stay behind until the procedure was finished. She pressed her lips thin, giving her son a quick hug, and a soft, but heavy, smile, before turning away from him. For a brief moment, she locked eyes with Lucas, glancing down to his middle, barely hidden beneath his blouse, her brows creasing slightly, before shuffling off towards her chambers.

Lucas’s heart pounded harshly, butterflies swirling in his stomach. He had a feeling that things were going to become much more complicated, much sooner than he had anticipated. But now was hardly the time to worry about himself. Shaking off his own nerves, he stretched a comforting hand to his lover, withdrawing when Vin recoiled.

“I’m sorry.” The lycan whispered, his tone broken.

“I put her life at risk.” Vin murmured, more to himself than to Lucas.

“You didn’t know this would happen-”

“She could’ve died!” Vin’s eyes snapped up to Lucas’s, tears gathering at his waterline. “She still might…” With exhaustion and defeat, Vin leaned over, pressing his head against Lucas’s chest.

Instinctively, Lucas wrapped his arms around the shrunken vampire, his hands comfortingly stroking his back.

“I made her suffer so much, and it was all for nothing.” Vin’s muffled voice rumbled against Lucas’s body.

“Everything is gonna be okay.” Lucas whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Vin’s head. It was the only thing he could think to say. He wasn’t even sure if he believed it, but it was all he had to offer to hold their world together.

Slowly, Vin pulled back, his hair shrouding his face.

“You should head home.”

“I don’t mind waiting with you-” Lucas started.

“No, I…” Vin sighed, his eyes glued to the tile floor, “you should get some rest. I’m going to be here for a while.”

“I can stay-”

“Lucas,” Vin’s voice was weak and pleading, and Lucas’s heart fell.

“You… want to be alone.” The lycan spoke in a whisper.

Vin nodded slowly.

Lucas drew a deep breath, a melancholic frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his lover’s head.

“I’ll be home if you need me.” The knight assured, giving Vin’s arm a comforting squeeze, before turning away, and heading down the hall.

Once the sound of Lucas’s footsteps had faded away, Vin lifted his gaze, finding himself alone. He could hear light shuffling and voices coming from the infirmary, muffled by the thick, wooden door. He couldn’t quite make any of it out, and part of him was thankful for that. But even still, his mind remained weighted and troubled. With a sigh, he pressed his back into the cold, stone wall, sliding down to the floor.

All he could do now was wait.

[space-invading-pigeon]

Monsters AU, anyone????

If you haven't already guessed it, Steve Harrington is my comfort character and almost everything I write lately has to do with him. But I love myths and monsters, so I mashed them up.

Steve is a werewolf; not always, but an incident when he was four changed him. His mother blames herself for his accident and tends to stay away from him, too overcome with guilt to even look at her son. Unfortunately, of all things, he was changed into a pack animal, and the loss of his mother's comfort has a negative effect. He's withdrawn, aggressive, unable to get comfortable in his own skin, all before even starting kindergarten- his only relief is when his mother hires an old friend to watch him. Her friend is from the supernatural world: the oldest son of a family of vampires that have lived in the United States since they stowed away on the Mayflower.

Steve and his new babysitter are instantly bonded: Steve goes back to being a sweet, albeit clingy, little angel, and his sitter is always more than happy to indulge him and shower him in love. Life is really looking up for Steve, to the point that he secretly refers to himself as "Stevie Munson," and dreams up a world where Wayne is his pa, instead of his actual father. But life is rarely kind to Steve, and soon his beloved Wayne has to leave town for an undetermined amount of time because of a "family emergency." Steve is heartbroken that he isn't allowed to go with him.

As if losing his sitter isn't enough, Steve's mother dies in a robbery-gone-wrong on Steve's ninth birthday, five years to the day after the attack that changed him. Richard Harrington can't be assed to take care of his son in her stead, and hires another sitter. Claudia Henderson (human, through and through) decides on her first day that Steve is as much her son as Dustin, and that only solidifies when she discovers that the poor baby her late husband attacked years ago was actually Steve. Dustin (a born werewolf as opposed to Steve, a changed werewolf) decides that Steve is his brother immediately, and it's like two puppies have found each other. Steve is protective, loving, and maybe a little bit possessive of his new brother, but Dustin has love to spare. As he grows from toddler to kid to preteen, he acquires more and more friends: first, Will Byers, from a family of light elves, who is shy and artistic and never cuts off one of Dustin's excited rants, even though they're both seven and Dustin's grasp of engineering is on par with a college undergrad. With Will comes Mike Wheeler and his older sister, Nancy, both of whom are descendants of the great Valkyrie. Nancy is a little more.... ethereal than Mike, because their Valkyrie blood is more prominent in women, but they're both stubborn and snarky and have a weird obsession with the Byers boys, but Dustin swears that they're both very nice. Lucas Sinclair comes around soon after, and he's really the only friend of Dustin's that Steve has actually met. He's a soft-spoken kid until he's comfortable, and then he's quick witted and so loyal that Steve actually thinks that maybe he's a werewolf, instead of a chimera.

Steve refuses to meet anyone else in Dustin's friend group; he says it's because he's too big to be around Dustin's friends, but it's actually because he doesn't think that he can be around them without lashing out for taking his baby brother away from him.

When Dustin is eleven and Steve is seventeen, Chief Hopper- the only Berserker in Hawkins- adopts a little witch named Jane, although she answers more to El than she does Jane. Soon after, Max Mayfield moves to town, and Dustin's little group of friends adds the banshee to their ranks.

Finally, Steve agrees to meet his friends, lovingly dubbed "the Party" by every member of it. They're wary of Steve at first- Richard Harrington is the most outspoken anti-supernatural in town, and they didn't know that Dustin's Big Brother Steve the Werewolf was actually Steve Harrington, so almost all of them are sure that they'll be harassed in their safe space. Steve is quiet for a while, yes, but Will and El take to him immediately, and Steve is weak for people who look at him like he's worth something (it's why he's such a pushover for Dustin and Claudia; they love him unconditionally and he will do anything to make himself feel worthy of that) so he adopts Will and El into his little family almost immediately.

Will and El adore Steve: El insists that he's a big, fluffy puppy, and her descriptions have never been wrong, so it makes the entire Party warm up to him. Will is painfully shy, and the speed with which he warms up to Steve is unheard of; but Will quite literally glows when Steve shows up, and even once he's calmed down the air around him glitters with his excitement. Steve takes to them both; at first, Dustin is over the moon at this.

Next to warm up to Steve is Lucas, a few weeks after Steve joins the Party. He's frosty toward Steve at first, but at a group movie night he watches Steve jump out of a dead sleep to jump out of a window and slam into a tree, face first (apparently, he'd been having a dream about a cheese monster trying to eat his toes). Then, Jonathan and Nancy, who both watch Steve with the kids and decide that, yes, they do have a crush on the sweet, dumb dog that's joined their ranks. Nancy asks him out first, though, and Steve is flustered enough that he agrees (and is almost instantly smitten with her). Mike refuses to warm up to Steve; the guy can't even breathe right, as far as Mike is concerned.

The longer that Steve and Nancy date, the angrier Dustin gets. He feels like he's being left behind. Steve spends more and more time with Nancy, at her behest. Neither of them realize how unhealthy their relationship is growing to be, just how the relationship between Nancy's parents are. Nancy demands that everything be held to a certain standard, and Steve does everything he possibly can to meet that standard. It isn't until Nancy dumps him- a very nasty affair that has Steve avoiding everyone except Dustin- that they actually grow as people and become something healthier to each other. (Just like in the show, they get into a fight at a party, and when they revisit it while sober, they fight again; Steve is hurt and wants to know if she really thinks he's bullshit, and Nancy won't give him a straight answer. He's upset and he can feel himself losing control of himself, so he walks away. Nancy leaves town on an overnight trip to get some info with Jonathan, and when she comes back, she spits vitriol at a panicked, concussed Steve. She does a lot of growing up after that, but she never actually apologizes for hurting Steve, although he frequently tries to "make up" for his own mistakes.

Max joins the group soon after that, and gets along with Steve almost immediately. She's a young banshee, and a part of her lore explains that she screams; she can't control when, how long, or even how loudly she screams, and as a result her step-brother (a human named Billy) is incredibly abusive. He belittles her for her Screams, and isn't afraid to shove her around (never where their parents can see: if Susan caught wind of it, his father Neil would hear, and Neil was not a man to cross). When Max meets Steve, and watches how he picks on the Party using their own species(he calls Lucas "little lion man," Will is Sunshine, Mike is Paladin Shithead, and Dustin has always been pup) while still encouraging them (Steve encourages the kids as they grow and develop these new abilities, never belittling them for their struggles, but showing them that it's okay to mess up. She doesn't know that it's because Steve had no one to do that for him until his mother died and the Hendersons were brought into his life). She's afraid to open up to the guy, right up until, in the middle of a crisis situation where Max is forced to use her powers on purpose for the first time, Steve throws himself in the line of fire to protect the Lucas- and by extension, the whole Party- more than once.

Steve protects her from Billy when he tries to "pick her up" (read: drag her home by the hair without regard for her safety), allows Billy to beat his ass because the alternative at the time was to chase him away until no one was around to protect Lucas, and then, with a whole concussion, does a full shift and defends the children from these strange alternate hellbeasts that were summoned by some crazies at the Hawkins Laboratory for Scientific Witchcraft. The guy even praised her for Screaming on purpose, calling her a hero. Max is soon just as attached to Steve as any other.

In the summer after breaking up with Nancy, Steve gets a job at the mall. He meets Robin, who seems for all intents and purposes a simple human being. She's quirky and goofy and she smells like the ocean after a storm; Steve loves her very quickly, but something in him keeps him from actually developing a crush. Robin is his beloved other half, his soulmate, the yin to his yang, whatever else means that she completes him. She calls him Dingus exclusively, and Steve knows that if he ever heard it while he was shifted fully, he would be rolling around like a delighted puppy. He learns later, after they've fought for their lives and suffered and survived, that Robin was born a normal human, but after the most traumatic experience of her life, she was transformed into a siren.

After the mall, Robin is inducted into the group. She keeps an eye on the kids while they're at school, partially for her own sanity, but also for Steve, who is beside himself at the prospect of his babies being out of sight for so long (he gets like this after every Upside-Down interaction, he loves those kids and he can't stand the idea of losing the family he's built for himself). By the end of the first month, Steve is desperate to meet this guy his kids keep ranting about, Eddie Munson, and it's just because he's worried about them, not because he's afraid of losing his spot as their Big Brother or because the name Munson struck a chord in the back of his mind(for whatever reason).

Without the kids knowing- except Max, because she saw him going up to the Munson trailer. She would never bring it up to the Party unless Steve did first- Steve goes to meet this Eddie Munson and maybe scope out the competition a little. Instead, he meets a pasty boy with unfairly attractive hands and full lips and the warmest chocolate eyes and-

His mooning over this pretty boy is cut short when a man with a painfully familiar face peers in from the kitchen, meeting Steve's eyes with a surprised, "Stevie?" The greeting is enough to make Steve tear up, and he starts freaking out because why is he so happy that this guy knows him, and he's ushered into their little home and onto an old, well-loved couch. Eddie is gushing about finally meeting the Stevie Harrington, he's been told all about him from Wayne through the years. Eddie asks him why he's never seen him at school, and Steve mumbles about being home-schooled ("I won't let people see my mistakes so easily," Richard Harrington drilled into his head from the moment Steve was old enough to go to school). Wayne is flustered and standoffish for all of three minutes before Steve is smothered in more paternal affection than he's received since he was seven; it clicks in his brain when Wayne calls him Stevie again, that he used to wish and beg the stars to change him into Stevie Munson, not Harrington, and that Wayne was his best friend for three years.

Eddie is smitten with this strong, pretty, downright fluffy boy that showed up on his doorstep, even more so when Wayne Munson (easily most comfortable when left alone in quiet) spends almost an hour fussing over and showering him in praise. Steve becomes a regular fixture in the Munson household, after that. Wayne spends weeks explaining the different types of supernatural creatures that have made their homes in Hawkins and the surrounding area, explaining Munson family history, and Steve finally has someone to walk him through everything about werewolves (Claudia tried, but she was really only parroting things she'd picked up as she raised Dustin, not any formal education. Steve never knew that it was a special thing to achieve a full shift; that particular afternoon had Eddie calling him a sweet little pup for a month).

********

I'm too lazy to spend another two days puzzling out how I want the rest of the show's plot to align with this au. I have it in my wips folder but this is already suuuuper long. My bad, pals

[urmomgoodwoman]

[mysterious-secret-garden]

Lucas Cranach the Elder - Werewolf, circa 1512.

>> Woodcut version

[pbielik]

„'cause i'm a real tough kid

i can handle my shit

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it"

and i did”

1) Tiana Adara Lupin-Black

2) Dracon Lucjusz Malfoy

3) Adrian Henric Pucey

4) Lucas Marcus McKinnon

5) Jake Lewis

6) Venus Amelia Cregence

7) Haruki Ishikawa

8) Harry James Potter

9) Davi Silva

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Packleader Shaman Werewolf by Lucas Winker

[the-lark-ascending69]

Hi!! I really loved your werewolf!max headcanons you posted a while back<3

Since the last point was a bit of a gut punch I wondered if you had any hcs about how her werewolf side reacts to/influences her injuries/coma/possible disabilities an the likes

Hiii hello it actually took me a ridiculously long time to find the post you're reffering to but here I have it! Link

Mmm I imagine werewolves are stronger when near the full moon, and they're at their weakest during the new moon. So what I'm imagining is that Max wakes up during the first full moon after falling into a coma, turning into a wolf and running away. No one at the hospital knows how they could have possibly lost a kid in a coma, but the party can instantly tell what's up and they go into the woods to find her.

I swear Max nearly kills Lucas when she sees him. Maybe it's something wolves have - affection aggression turning into aggresion aggression when they're under a lot of stress. She growls and bares her teeth and tbh, Lucas is terrified, but he refuses to leave her despite everyone else telling him to run.

He speaks softly and cracks a joke or two and eventually, she runs into the woods. They find her in the junkyard at dawn, curled up and asleep and naked and covered in dirt. For a moment, they worry she went into a coma again, but then she stirs when Nancy and El wrap a blanket around her, and she insults Steve when he carries her into the back of his car, and they all celebrate because it means she's back.

It takes some time for her to adjust to her new reality. She's left with a lot of problems - mostly her sight and motor skills. Her symptoms fluctuate a lot with the phases of the moon. Around full moons, she can see pretty okay-ish while wearing glasses, even being able to read on her own, but during new moons she's pretty much blind. She can also walk without mobility aids for two or three days a month, even managing to skate a little the day before a full moon, despite being a lot slower. She needs a wheelchair the rest of the month.

Her senses of smell and hearing have always been good, but now they've become so much sharper. She can recognize everyone by scent alone, and by the sound of their footsteps and breathing.

She's tired a lot more after her coma, so if new moons made her a bit moody and sleepy before, now they're much more debilitating. She can barely get out of bed now from sheer exhaustion, but it's fine, her friends got her covered. It's mostly Lucas and El who visit, but Dustin, Will and Mike will come over every now and then and burn down her kitchen trying to bake something decent for what El calls a "boys-girls daytime sleepover" (Lucas thinks that's just a normal hang-out, but El insists that it's different because they're going to bake cookies and paint their nails). The excuse they give her mom is that they're helping her keep up with school, but they always end up watching a movie or playing games instead.

She's at her healthiest when in wolf form. Some nights, she can run, jump, play and hunt just like she did before, without feeling any pain. Most days, though, she can walk and maybe trot, but it always hurts a little bit. There are days in which she could walk, but she's too exhausted and weak to get out of her room. Lucas and El are there for her when that happens, and they just talk to her and listen to some music. It's kind of lap dog behavior, Max thinks, to be an apex predator but lay on a comfy bed asking for head pats from her boyfriend and her best friend, but it's nice. It's different from hiding under her bed all night, back when Neil and Billy were around.

[darkangel0410]

WIP WEDNESDAY (on time and everything!!!!)

Tagging: @007waffles007 @frostbeees @hckyrcl @coricomile @cokehead-zeroed @candy-belle @gaybroons and anyone else who wants to do it!!