#by werewolf hunters while hes out one night then really embraces it and breaks out & attacks them

[nerosdayinanime]

ohhhh werewolf au.......

[acklesterritory]

That Kind of Love Never Dies_Chapter 1

Hey guys, Now that more voted to split my fictions in 2 parts, I'm back with the first part. I hope you like it. Don't forget to leave me feedbacks. I'll always appreciate them. Love you all.

This is for writing event @tvdspngirl314

My quote is "That kind of love never dies"

Dean x Reader series (just 2 parts)

This chapter words: ~5k

Series warning:

Angst, fluf, smut, angry Dean, hurt Reader, hurt Dean, there's some more but I hate spoilers so I insist on "Angst & Hurt"

It all started with a stupid argument at home. What was it? Three months ago? Sam couldn't remember the exact date but after years, it was the first time this awkward coldness between Dean and Y/n had started to build. He could remember the first time he and his brother came across Y/n like it was yesterday, they were hunting a very nasty creature who used to kidnap young and lonely women at night, then got them wrapped in ropes and ties on a bed in a warehouse to rape, torture and feed on their blood until the victim either died or accepted to turn into one of his kind.

Sam could remember the helplessness in people's eyes too. The pain of the victims' families, the frustration and anger on cops' faces when no one could find the criminal yet, even after the sixth missing girl.

"Sammy, he just kidnapped another girl. And I think I know where he's gonna take her. Let's hunt this son of a bitch."

When Dean was saying that, Sam never expected him to fall in love with the woman they would save that night. Well, unfortunately they weren't fast enough to prevent any harm to the girl. When they arrived and Dean killed the nasty creature, Y/n was almost dead. The monster had already raped her, tortured her … and when he felt the hunters enter the place, he drank almost all of her blood, to gain more energy to fight. So as always, Dean was up to blaming himself. Of course only in his own eyes, not anyone else's.

"Call Cas to come home. Tell him it's an emergency."

Dean told his brother when he finally could get Y/n out of those ropes. And Sam knew he was right. At that point, no one could save Y/n unless God or his angels. Maybe she was not so lucky coming across a nasty supernatural creature like that but she was lucky enough that Cas arrived just on time and healed her. However, angels can only heal physical wounds. But Y/n was hurt much more than that. She couldn't just move on from the things that the bastard had put her through. Even after Cas tricked her brain to forget some certain things, she still had bad nightmares and had this dark shade of hopelessness in her eyes. Soon, she started to eat and talk less and less. And Dean just couldn't let her go. He really wanted to fix all of that for her but she kept shutting him out… until the depression hit her. It was so bad that Cas felt the need to tell them to prepare themselves for her death. Because after all those days and unlike everything else in their lives, The Winchesters were already used to her presence around them; like the way a lonely person can get used to a wounded cat more and faster than anyone else.

"I'm not gonna hunt until I'm sure she can live her normal life." When Dean stated that, Sam really thought he was joking. But after a few days he started to believe it. Dean truly would do anything to keep her alive. From cooking vegetables to laughing at his own dad jokes in front of Y/n to make her smile. That was when Sam started to feel that they can be more than a random hunter/rescued victim relationship! It felt like his brother had finally found his motivation in life: "Saving Y/n."

Gradually Y/n started to respond to this special attention from Dean with trust and smiles. Soon they became a power couple that could motivate each other so easily that sometimes Charlie would call them out. And honestly Sam had no problem with it. In fact Y/n had become his other sister.

"My God, Dean! You're burning up!" It was two day after a werewolf hunt in which Dean had got hurt. At first it was just some scratches on his arms and chest. Yet as the time passed, more symptoms started to appear: headache, pain, fever, cold sweat, even nose bleeding and before they could figure it out, Dean fell unconscious. Apparently the claws of the werewolf were poisonous. However Sam wasn't sure. The only thing he got no doubts about was the fact that it was already too late. Dean couldn't make it to the hospital. So either Sam had to do anything possible to save him or Cas should've picked up his God damn phone.

"No. no, no, no, no. Dean … Dean!!!"

That was when Sam got to hear Y/n's helpless cry and see her true feelings. She was already in love with his brother.

Luckily, unlike typical love stories; no one died that night. Sam's antidote worked. And Dean opened his eyes an hour later.

"Sammy … Y/n?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Y/n grabbed his face and put her thirsty lips on her beloved hunter's, letting the tears stream down on her face… and then his.

"Never do that again." She begged, breaking the kiss, her trembling hands holding Dean's face so she could look into his eyes.

Sam couldn't stop his smile remembering how cute they were. Y/n literally had Dean wrapped around her little finger, to the point he accepted to teach her how to hunt and soon she was part of their team too. Until … a few months ago. After two years of them being constantly close to each other, Sam could tell something was off when Dean started to go out without eating breakfast with Y/n. Of course she got suspicious after the third time and that was when their endless arguments started.

"Why don't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"Because nothing is wrong, Y/n."

Actually there was. Something was VERY wrong. Anyone could tell that just by the change in Dean's eyes whenever he wanted to look at Y/n. Day by day he was getting more quiet and cold. Now they didn't even eat pie together or watch movies late at night. And Sam couldn't ignore his brother being grumpy or drunk on hunts, not anymore.

"Ok man, I've had enough. You either tell me what's wrong with you or next time I won't make any excuses so you can leave Y/n out of our hunt plans. I'm serious, Dean, I'll tell her the truth." He finally said, when they were alone in the impala, on their way to do their next hunt.

"She wants more."

"More?"

"Yeah. Sometimes it's like she sees more in me. She thinks we can have a different life. There's no need for any saying, I can see it in her eyes whenever we accidentally come across some family at a diner that try to feed their kids or people's wedding photos whenever we go to talk with some witnesses or whoever during the research! Sometimes she even looks up wedding dresses or kid stuff on the net!" Dean blew his anger out of his nostrils and sighed, shaking his head.

"Wow." Sam couldn't find the proper word to say but he couldn't hide his surprised face either.

"What?" Dean gave him an annoyed look.

"I mean …" Sam chuckled. "… are you telling me you're actually angry with her for imagining the things you always dream about?!"

"Sam …"

"No, really. I'm just curious. What's wrong with you, man?" Sam asked genuinely, waiting for an answer.

"What's wrong with me?! You think something is wrong with me just because I'm the rational one in this relationship; who's actually able to see the difference between a dream and the reality?"

Yeah, anyone could take that earnest speech, but not Sam. He'd seen and knew enough about his brother.

"What's the reality? Aren't you and Y/N living that dream life already?"

"What?! No. No … that's not the same." Dean shook his head.

"Really? How is it not? It's been two years, Dean. You two are constantly with and/or around each other. Always worried when the other one is in trouble and still looking at one another like there is nothing in the world that can make you happy as much as this relationship. So … excuse me if I won't buy your pretty speech; man ." Sam said, Rolling his eyes.

"Ok, let's say you're right but ... is it gonna be like that forever? With all the supernatural crap that we have to take care of … and the constant danger and chaos in this hunter life we have… I …"

"You what?" Sam asked when Dean didn't finish his sentence. He was lost in his thoughts, staring at this unknown point in the depth of the road. Finally he blew out his despair.

"I just can't let her fall for the things I know I can't provide for her. It's not fair, Sammy. It's not fair to lock her up in this dark life with me just because she loves me … especially while I know there is a whole bright future out there waiting for her."

"Here we go, the old Dean's self-doubt" Sam thought to himself as he took a deep breath before finding the best words to wake his brother up from this nightmare

"Yeah, I know but I don't think it's your call. If Y/n wants to go to hell with you instead of living in heaven with someone else, it's her choice. Not your responsibility. Right?"

Dean shook his head while his lips curved up a little to fake a smile but he never answered or said anything about that conversation ever again. He kept his silence for like three weeks … until someone new showed up: "Gary Smith". A tall man with the most stylish haircut and the most perfect teeth and smile.

They saw him for the first time at their hangout bar, as the new bartender who almost jumped in Y/n's way as soon as they entered the bar.

"Oh my God, bunny! Is this really you?" He said, pulling her in his embrace. Like she was the long time missing piece of his beloved puzzle!

"Bonny? You're wrong. Her name is Y/n." Dean said, pretty annoyed by the way Gary tightened his arms around Y/n's little shoulders, making him chuckle.

"No, uh … it's just a nickname." Y/n said as soon as the guy let her go.

"Yeah, actually the most fitting nickname that I could think of. I mean … you have to agree. She got the most cute little ears in the world." The guy explained, chuckling and pulling on her little star earring. Well, if Sam wanted to be honest, he had to agree with him. He never paid any attention to it before but now that Gary mentioned it, he could tell Y/n's ears were truly small.

"I see … So … I guess this means you were close friends?" Dean said, already hating the way Y/n e's blushed with hearing her old nickname.

"Uh … well, no. Actually more than that." The guy grinned, ruffling his own hair while he was awkwardly laughing and looking at Y/n. Just like a proud embarrassed teen!

"We used to date." Y/n said.

*oh* Sam tried his best not to let that stupid grin sit on his lips but Dean's frown and his sudden heavy silence didn't let him do so.

"Yeah. We are kinda each other's first. Like … you know? prom date." The man added, giving Y/n a wink while Dean's gaze was still locked on his large arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah. It's been years, Gary."

"I know. But believe me, bunny. you still look the same." He said, bending to put a kiss on her right cheek.

Dean would kill him. Sam just knew that. Because his brother's eyes were already burning with jealousy.

"By the way, don't you wanna tell me who these gentlemen are ?" The guy asked Y/n, giving her his softest smile.

"Of course. This is Sam and this is Dean. My colleagues who are my friends now. I live in their place."

After they met, everything got even more complicated. Y/n, the girl who was still trying to get old-happy-days Dean back suddenly stopped whatever she used to do. No more complains, no waiting at nights to see Dean before going to bed, no more effort to get involved in hunts, no nothing. And despite what Dean had claimed before, it was making Dean even more frustrated. Day to day he and Y/n were getting colder towards each other and there was nothing he could do to fix it. That was what made him even more furious. Sam already knew all of that and he still had to live with both of those grumpy faces. So last night when they began to fight, he could see this was coming: Y/n left the bunker after Dean let some hurtful things out of his mouth, just because he didn't know how to deal with all the heartache anymore. He now was convinced that Y/n didn't love him anymore. Yet the next day after drinking whatever strong drink they had, he begged Sam to come with him. Apparently Jodie texted Dean about Y/n being in her place for that night. Just to make sure that her crazy step son won't sell his soul over a tracking spell! So Dean almost begged his brother to be there with him, cause Dean believed that as much as Y/n didn't care about him, she still respected Sam and cared about him. Like a little sister and her elder brother.

So here they were, In Jodie's living room, in front of her and Y/n.

"Considering your sleepy eyes, I think we caught you at bed time, huh?" Sam asked, checking Y/n's obvious eye bags.

"Who says that? I'm totally good, Sam."

She said with a small smile, looking much more in control and stronger than before. So Sam knew it was a lie. Y/n Just had made her peace with what had happened last night. The realization۹ kicked Dean in the gut. Y/n always used to be stronger and bolder when she got hurt.

"I'm gonna make some coffee for us. Why don't you guys take a seat till I come back?"

Jodie interrupted, to ease the heavy and sharp silence that suddenly had fallen over all of them.

Y/n gave her a smile.

"Of course."

It was so fake. Her smile didn't even curl her lips completely. She was still badly hurting.

Sam swore in his head when he looked over his brother who sank silently into the nearest seat at the end of the table like a broken shell that he was too . One of Dean's hands was in the pocket of his jacket, the other formed a fist on the table. Sam was sure Dean knew it too. He knew everything was almost past saving. "Almost". Sam tried to stick to their small chance.

"So …" He cleared his voice before he put some (semi fake) hope into his words."You're … you're gonna come back home today or did Alex and Claire made you promise them otherwise?" He laughed and tried to make it funny but the truth was he asked this for Dean's sake, knowing he already was struggling to find the words … to let Y/n know how much he wanted her back … to ask her to come back.

"To be honest … I don't think I can live in the bunker anymore." Y/n said and as Dean's head snapped up to look at her in horror, she raised her hand to stop his (likely) protests.

"I applied for a job 3 weeks ago and to my surprise they called me this morning to tell me I'd actually got it."

*What?*

No one had to ask it. The question was already hung in the air. She snored mockingly in her nose. "Perfect timing, right?"

She moved her gaze from her interlocked fingers on the table to Dean's eyes.

He didn't answer, he didn't move but he got tense. Still staring back at Y/n.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked, once again saving Dean from asking the question he was itching to ask with some other words that for sure couldn't be nice.

"I wanted to but I didn't think I could actually get it and even if I did, I never figured out how to tell you. Besides, I never considered the "move out" option before..." She looked at Sam for a second before she turned her gaze on Dean. "... But I actually appreciate that you bring it up. I think now I can take the advice. I'm gonna move on."

Sam's heart dropped in his stomach when he heard those words. Because he knew what this meant. It felt something like having to watch Dean get stabbed in the heart.

"Is this … because of that Bartender?" Dean asked, staring deadly at Y/n with his bloodshot eyes. He was already chewing on his bottom lip. And Sam knew a heavy storm was on its way to hit them.

"I don't want to answer that question."

*shit*

"Why? Because you can't just simply say no?" Dean scolded and Sam could see how it pushed on Y/n boundaries.

"No. Because it's not your fucking business and it's not Gary's business either. But at least he knows his limits."

*well, fuck*

"By "limits" you mean when he drools on you just because for God knows whatever the reason, you started to wear leather jackets when we go there?"

"WHAT?!"

*Oh, fuck* Sam thought to himself, watching Y/n rise from her seat.

"You think … you really think that I …" she laughed nervously and Sam could tell she would punch Dean in the face if she wasn't a sweet, super nice person.

"How you can even …"

"I can even what, Y/n? Are we now going to pretend like I'm a blind man who can't see how you got attracted to your ex again? Did you really think I couldn't see how your hands were shaking when his filthy face lighted up by seeing you for the first time after all these years?"

Sam wanted to interrupt him or at least leave the room but everything was happening so fast.

"So what? Why and since when you care about my private life?"

"Since you stopped drinking bunker's beers just because you rather drink those crappy poisonous cocktails he makes at the bar!"

Dean was on his feet now as well. And despite his will, Sam couldn't stop his smile. He never saw his brother this jealous before. It was fun.

"Poisonous? … You … of all people, you are the one who says this? cause as much as I know, you're the one who puts dormitives in my guest's food so the poor guy gets tired and can't spend his time with me!"

"Yeah, because your poor guy is not welcomed in MY PLACE!" Dean yelled, punching the table with so much power that made everyone almost jump out of their skins.

"Dean!" Finally Sam interrupted but as soon as he stood up, someone rang the doorbell and Sam could hear Jodie welcoming someone inside.

"Guys … I know it's not my place to interfere but you two really need to sort things out somewhere private … of course that's when both of you can be much calmer than this."

"No, we have nothing to say or to talk about, anymore. Your brother was clear enough when he said he wants me to move out, so I'll move out. And that's it."

Y/n declared, looking at Sam to resist any eye contact with Dean, probably to make him even more crazy.

"And that's it? You wanna ignore that part where you were too eager and ready to accept that suggestion and leave the bunker instantly like your pants were on fire?!"

Dean retorted while Y/n was shaking her head like she couldn't believe him.

"Whose pants are on fire?" Jodie interrupted as soon as she re-entered the room with the coffees she'd made, this time a man was with her. Y/n's guy. The famous bartender.

*Oh, No!*

Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a second so the guy couldn't read his face.

"Obviously not mine." Dean hissed through his teeth, looking first at the guy and then at Y/n with such a disappointment and rage that no one could ignore.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The guy asked, choosing the worst spot to stand on: right next to Y/n.

"My typical life I guess. Nothing's new." She mumbled in reply to him but her eyes were still on Dean.

"No, nothing is wrong with your life, Y/n. It's about your choices. That's what's wrong with you. As always." Dean said bitterly. As sharp as a knife, as cold as ice. Sam could see how it drained color from Y/n's face.

"You better watch your mouth, buddy." The Gary guy warned Dean and Sam could tell that if it wasn't for the sudden thud sound that stole everyone's attention, Dean would throw a fight right there. But …

"Y/n!" Jodie almost screamed. Y/n was laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

"Oh, God." Sam said as Jodie rushed to her.

"Y/n? … Y/n can you hear me?"

As she sat next to her, Gary's fingers already were on Y/n's carotid pulse point. So Sam couldn't stop himself from looking up at his brother, who was still standing where he was. In shock.

"Oh, shit!" Gary's worried voice made Sam check Y/n's pale face again but Jodie was the one to dare ask the question which was on everyone's minds.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Her pulse ... too faint." He said before turning to Dean: "Is she bleeding?"

"Bleeding?" Dean blinked and mumbled in confusion.

If it was up to Sam, he'd ask *What bleeding?* & *Why are you asking this from my brother?*

"Oh my. You still don't know. Do you?" Gary sneered.

"Know what? What's happening?" Jodie was freaking out now and Sam actually felt the same. He didn't like the way this stranger pretended like he knew her better than them. However what happened next was much more unexpected. And … rude!

To everyone's surprise, the guy reached out to Y/n's jeans and drew his hand between her legs but before anyone could react, he spread her legs open so it could be possible for everyone to see that big red stain there. Then he raised his hand. It was all wet and red in blood!

"She's having a miscarriage." He revealed.

Sam's gaze instantly caught Dean's ... Burning. Dean was burning inside with his heavy silence.

"Don't you worry. It's not mine." Gary added more fuel to that hell with such a mocking tone, staring right back at Dean's eyes.

Now Sam could feel it. The storm was there: rising in his brother's roar!

Before Sam could've moved any muscles, Gary was already pinned to the wall, Dean's hands on his now-ripped-out collar.

"Dean, no!" Sam jumped in, trying to catch his brother's arm before his fist make any contact with the guy's nose but all he could do was changing the direction of the punch which landed on Gary's shoulder, making a painful cracking sound.

"I said no … Dean, stop it." Sam had to literally cage Dean in his arms so the furious man couldn't tear Gary apart.

"Get off me, Sam. This son of a bitch has to learn his place."

"Enough!" As Dean just broke himself free, Jodie's scream stopped everyone in their tracks.

"It's enough!" Jodie warned all three men, pointing at them one by one.

"You want to fight? Not here. Not in my house!"

"But ..."

As soon as Dean opened his mouth to protest, Jodie cut him:

"And you … you should know Y/n is pregnant with your twins. So … you'll be a responsible man who will try his best to save them or you can get the hell out of here and never come back!"

"What?" Sam was too shocked to suppress his reaction while Dean couldn't even find any words to say. His confused look darted between Jodie's face and Y/n's figure while his parted lips kept moving without making any noise, just like a dying fish on the shore!

"I promised her not to tell anyone but it was a promise under normal conditions, not this." Jodie sighed, struggling to keep her emotions under control. Sam saw the worry in her frown. Like a real mother, worried for her children. However it was nothing in comparison to his brother's blank eyes and pale face.

"Dean, It's ok. We just need to take her to hospital. … it's ok, man. I promise."

He had to grab Dean by his jacket, as his brother was struggling to process all of these in his head.

"Come on, man. We got no time. Do I need to do this alone or you'll …"

"Get the car, Sammy."

It was just a simple sentence. Yet it had enough power to make Sam's heart sank. Since Dean had put the car keys in his hand saying that, Sam couldn't stop thinking about that tone. Dean never had called Baby a "car" In years. And Sam had never heard that crack in his voice since their Dad's death.

"You ok?" He finally let himself ask, two hours after they arrived at the hospital.

"I want to be." Dean closed his eyes and put his head against the cold wall, letting the dim light to darken the shadows under his eyes.

"I'm sure she'll be good. She's strong, Dean. You know that."

He smiled and Sam looked away not to watch him. He knew that smile. Dean used to give him that, whenever everything was gone so wrong that Dean couldn't promise him anything good. Like when both of them were still kids. Hungry, cold and all alone in a rusty motel room where John had left them on their own for a one day long hunt but then a heavy snow had crashed the roads and kept them apart for half a week. So Dean had to wash the dishes and do the laundry in the motel to rent the room for another day and provide some snacks so they wouldn't starve to death. But after three days, the hotel managers didn't want them to be around. And Sam could vividly remember that smile on his brother's face when he asked: *Where should we go then?*

"You were always such a father material. You know?"

Sam admitted with a broken smile on his face.

"You were always responsible, kind and caring with me as a kid. And I can't imagine anyone who deserves to be a father more than you."

Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes without looking at him: "But I don't want ... I really can't, Sammy."

All, it certainly wasn't the response Sam had expected. He used to believe that Dean would never turn down any chance to start a family with Y/n. Especially after everything in the world was back to normal.

"Are you kidding me? You always wanted this."

"No …" Dean finally turned his gaze to meet his brother's confused eyes. "No, Sammy. Not like this. I don't want to raise another kid without his mom. I'm not that strong anymore."

Dang. Once again Sam's heart dropped in his stomach. Dean was really helpless.

"Mr. Winchester?"

Dean was on his feet as Sam just realized the doctor's presence.

"It's me."

Sam prayed for any good news as doctor took a glance of Dean and fixed his glasses on his face …

"To be continued …"

READ CHAPTER 2 HERE

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@jay-and-dean @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278

The next and also ultimate chapter will post on Sunday, April 25. Thanks for reading.

Feedback are always appreciated.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous  love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3229

Author’s Note: Here we go, fam! New story, new adventures, new thrills and chills and feels! Who’s excited?!? This story was inspired by P!nk’s song “Walk Me Home”, which you should totes listen to (and watch the video, it’s so COOL) if you haven’t. This was a birthday present for @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , though I will admit it was a few...well, either days or years late, depending on how you look at it. I hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! SHE ALSO MADE THE IMAGE!! HOW GORGEOUS?!?!

Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 1

A firm tap on the door of her office makes Kimberly’s head snap up. She blinks, her eyes unable to focus quickly after looking up from her computer screen. She remembers she’s wearing her reading glasses, and slips them off her nose, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck.

“Dr. Harper? Could I take a few minutes of your time?”

“Yes, I…” Her eyes finally focus on her visitor, and the room is suddenly devoid of oxygen. “Dean? Is it...really?”

“Kimber?” 

The astonished man framed in the doorway is a far cry from the brash, charming boy she met in a different life, but she’d know him anywhere. Time has been more than kind to Dean Winchester, and Kimberly has to admit some things really do get better with age.

Which is saying a lot, considering.

“God, no one’s called me that since high school.” She stands and takes a couple of measured steps around her desk. Seeing him unexpectedly like this after so much time leaves her physically and emotionally off-balance, but the smile she offers him is genuine. “You’re a helluva sight for sore eyes. It’s been a while.”

Dean recovers from his shock quickly, crossing the small room in a few quick strides, and sweeps her into a hug. She’s engulfed in his presence, not just his physical stature (she does not remember him being this tall or broad or...solid) but also the scent and feel that is absolutely Dean. She feels a shock of vertigo as memories and emotions she’d long laid to rest all vie for immediate attention.

It hits them simultaneously that they’ve embraced for a few moments longer than necessary, and they disentangle with sheepish smiles.

“What are...no, I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Have a seat!” A lop-sided smile pulls at Dean’s lips, and suddenly she’s seventeen again, trying desperately to keep her cool as she finally gets to talk to the handsome, mysterious new kid. Warmth floods every cell of her body, and she comes dangerously close to giggling. 

“Coffee?” she offers, forgetting most of her hard-earned vocabulary in the face of her teenage dream.

“Always.”

...

The last time she’d seen Dean Winchester, his father was burning holes in his elder son’s back from the driver’s seat of his precious Impala. He glowered at Dean and Kimber, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the teenagers stumbled through their good-byes. Dean’s younger brother sat, slump-shouldered and defeated in the back seat, resigned to yet another relocation.

“Don’t forget my number,” Kimberly murmured, her palms sliding over his jaw, fingers threading into his close-cropped hair, and they both knew she meant, “Don’t forget me.”

“I couldn’t if I tried, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. He cleared his throat, trying to turn away before she could see any weakness.

“Don’t,” she said, holding his face firmly. “If this is all I get of you, don’t even take that much from me.”

Five blissful weeks they’d had before Dean’s father concluded his mysterious business in the area. Five weeks since she’d begun tutoring Dean in AP American History; an absolute sham, she had realized exactly five minutes into their first session. Dean may not have been caught up on the exact dates and details of what they were covering in class, but once he set eyes on the material, even she had a hard time keeping pace with his reasoning.

“Just wanted to talk to you alone,” he’d admitted that afternoon, his olive eyes sparkling. He flashed her what had to be an award-winning half-grin, showing a glimpse of perfect, dazzling white teeth and the merest touch of uncertain vulnerability. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked, genuinely curious. He had to practice that expression in the mirror; it was too perfect to be natural. His face lit up as his smile spread, his cheeks gaining the faintest hint of pink. In that one moment, Kimber realized she’d lived her entire life under an overcast sky, and now the clouds had parted. His smile was the sun on her face for the first time, dazzling and vital, and she soaked it in with dizzy abandon.

“Why, is it working on you?”

“Yeah, it, um, it really is.”

They spent the next month or so getting to know each other as only kids can, when everything is new, the absolute pinnacle of priority and passion. They studied each other as fervently as they should have studied for midterms. Explaining how the Age of Enlightenment influenced the American Revolution was a complete waste of time next to finding out that the beautiful, smooth-talking, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester was actually ticklish.

Dean told her the most amazing stories, which she only learned were true after he and his family disappeared. She caught him up in history enough for the teacher to get off his back, and in return he showed her how to get rid of unwanted physical attention with minimal risk on her part.

Dean wasn’t her first kiss, but he wiped the memory of every other fumbling embrace from her mind with a searing permanence. Some nights they snuck out to the treehouse in her backyard, and some nights she snuck him into her room. He would never take her out to any of the famous local make-out spots, though; he said they were too dangerous and just begging for trouble. 

She knew better than to argue with him when he got “that look” on his face, spoke to her in “that tone.” It took many years and some hard experiences of her own, but she did eventually learn that he’d been protecting her from so much more than she ever could have understood at that point in her life.

She found herself in awe of the sheer amount of wisdom contained in such a carefree, often goofy package. That they were chronologically the same age, almost to the month, was irrelevant; Dean Winchester had lived far beyond his years, and it showed.

And then one night, he’d arrived on her doorstep in the middle of dinner, asked if she could come outside for a minute. When he told her he was leaving, she knew he wasn’t joking. He’d warned her it would happen this way, that he had no idea how long they’d be in town, but she’d always imagined that future as some vague, misty destination, like “graduation” or “college.” Definitely going to happen, but not anytime soon, so might as well relax and enjoy things while you could.

“I…” But she couldn’t say it, not yet. She wanted to, had read so many novels and seen all the movies. It was the thing to say, and half her friends had already proclaimed their hearts belonging to various celebrities and hot guys around school. But staring into Dean’s eyes, so much older than they should be, she knew better than to throw that word out so lightly, carelessly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. His eyelids dropped, shoulders heaved once, and when he met her gaze again, that smooth front of cool confidence had slid back in place. “I know, sweetheart. Me, too.”

He kissed her then, despite his father’s glowering, despite her parents’ astonished looks from between the living room curtains. His hands were tight on her waist, and she raised up on her toes, pulling his face just a little closer. 

They pulled apart after a long moment, eyes locked, and she kissed him one last time, chastely, savoring the plush of his velvet-soft lips against hers. 

Then she let him go, and he went. There was nothing else they could do.

She hugged herself against the chill autumn night, ignoring the first dashes of icy rain that stung her bare arms as she watched the black Impala turn a corner and disappear.

She didn’t see him again for nearly two and a half decades. When he knocked on her office door, asking for Dr. Harper, the years melted away. She felt the sting of the rain, the chill of the night he’d left, and for a long moment, all she could do was stare.

…

“How did you find me?” he asks. His fingers slip around the coffee mug she offers him, and she has to make a physical effort to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand. Everything about Dean has aged so gracefully. She would be envious if she weren’t also granted the absolute gift of drinking in the sight of him. 

“I didn’t,” she says, “not exactly. I’ve been teaching mythology, folklore, and urban legends at the university for a long time now. You got me started on that, back in the day.” She offers him a small smile, hoping he understands she remembers all the stories he told her.

The grin he offers in return melts something in her chest that’s been rigid and frozen, deliberately separated from the rest of her emotions for most of her adult life, and she can’t breathe for a second.

“After you left town, I started digging a little. I looked into some of those stories you told me, some of the places you’d mentioned, and then some of the weird stuff that had been happening in the towns where you said your dad was working. I’m sure you know what I found,” she says, eyebrows raised. 

Dean’s lips purse as he considers her words. He opens his mouth, brows creased, but then he seems to change his mind. He takes a long drink of coffee, and when he lowers the mug his expression is once again neutral.

“Well, I stayed interested. Made a career out of it, somehow. And then people started coming to me, asking for help finding bits of information here, some lore or ancient knowledge there. Some were hunters, some scholars, but it kind of became my thing. I’d hear stories about you and your brother occasionally, Mr. FBI’s Most Wanted,” she adds, and he chokes a little on his swallow of coffee.

“Why didn’t you ever reach out?” He brushes stray droplets of coffee from his chin absently, and her eyes laser in on a particularly enticing drop on the corner of his mouth. His tongue flicks out, catching it before it falls, and her breath hitches.

“To be honest, I was too nervous,” she admits as he sets his mug on the coaster in front of him. For the first time in many years, old feelings of abandonment, inadequacy, rear their nasty little heads. She has to work to keep her tone even. 

“It’s been how long? I figured you’d forgotten all about me; I thought maybe I was just another conquest to you-”

“You were never a conquest to me, Kimber. You know that.” His jaw works in agitation as he frowns. Hurt and something else - guilt, maybe? - cross his face before his expression smooths out, replaced by a blank mask. “You should have known that.”

Doubt cartwheels through Kimber's mind, sending her thoughts reeling. Twenty-four years of thinking Dean Winchester had forgotten her are suddenly put into a new, alien perspective. She scrambles internally to regain her bearings, stunned in a way that only comes from a solid blow to one’s core beliefs. 

Despite her parting plea, he’d never called her, not once in all the years after, and she’d convinced herself she was just the girl of the month. She’d been angry for a long time, well into college, but bit by bit, she forced herself to shut away her feelings, ball them up into a tiny hollow in her chest where she could at least ignore them, and moved on.

Apparently, somehow, she’d been mistaken. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

He nods stiffly, sitting back in his chair a little, putting a touch more distance between them. He raises his hand for her to continue, his gesture abrupt, and she shrivels inside. She sees she’s offended him, but if she’s in the wrong, then why did he never call? 

“Dean, look, I shouldn’t have said conquest. That was insensitive of me, but from my perspective, what was I supposed to think? You say you won’t forget me, then you vanish into the night? What happened? Not even a single call to let me know you made it to your next stop alive?”

There’s another flash of pain, chased quickly from his eyes by what she’s pretty sure now is guilt. Exhaustion finally settles in, and he suddenly shows every one of the twenty-four years since he last saw her.

“Look, we’ve got a more immediate problem here, if the little bit Garth told me is true. Let’s…” he sighs, scrubbing his face tiredly with his hands. He steeples his fingers in front of his lips, coming to some sort of decision. 

“We can sit down and talk Memory Lane over some pie and coffee, but let’s get through this first. Now tell me what’s going on.”

As much as she wants to argue, force him to tell her exactly why he never reached out, she can tell he isn’t going to budge. 

“I...so...I wasn’t looking for you specifically,” she stumbles, “but I reached out to a former student of mine, Garth Fitzgerald, who I knew had been a hunter at one point and still had contacts. He said he would send someone my way, and then…”

“And then I showed up,” he finishes. His tone is efficient, economical, and all business. “Garth didn’t tell me much except his old professor was having some supernatural stalking issues. Gotta say,” he adds, and she is relieved to her bones to see the tiniest of crinkles by his eyes, “Sure didn’t picture you when Garth said ‘old professor.’ Figured I’d get Indiana Jones or his dad, maybe, but not...yeah.”

His attempt to add a little humor makes the wash of guilt and confusion in Kimber’s stomach even more uncomfortable. 

She fills him in on the details, odd accidents happening to the people she’s closest with at work, strange noises around her house at night, the ever increasing sense she’s being watched. 

“You talk to the police?” he asks.

She nods, letting her sour expression do most of the talking for her. “Went as well as it usually does. They didn’t even talk to my neighbors to see if anyone had seen anything. I had to do that.”

“Still, though. Doesn’t sound too supernatural to me,” he finally says, eyebrows furrowed. He isn’t dismissive, though; he stares hard at his coffee mug as he considers her story.

“Well, I guess you could explain away Helen’s fall down the stairs as a horrible but mundane accident. She could have tripped, but the people near her said she looked like she was pushed. Except no one was near enough to have done it.”

Now that she's getting over the shock of finding him on her doorstep, she remembers why he's there in the first place, and reality rushes back in. Kimber’s composure falters, but she does her level best to keep her voice steady.

“But Professor Lawrence was by himself in his office when his skin just started...boiling, not burning. I don’t care what the police report says. And Allen Simpson didn’t actually want to staple his hand to his dissertation, I promise you. He had just talked with me about one of his sources over coffee an hour before...before…”

Her throat closes as the whole nasty scene flashes before her eyes. She’d found him in the grad student workroom after following the sounds of his anguished howls, and there was just so much blood. She’d heard stories from the hunters she’d worked with, read her own share of horrific incidents, but to see it first hand…

“And sometimes, when I walk home at night, there’s...I’ve never seen anything, but I hear footsteps. Always behind me, and there’s no one there, but I know there isn’t anywhere for them to hide, whoever they are. I can feel them just...watching me. Even at home, a couple of times, when I should be absolutely alone, all my blinds and drapes closed. Once when I was making dinner, and once when I was...showering, and...Dean, it’s...I don’t understand.”

She takes in a stuttering breath and dashes at her eyes with the back of her wrist. Her hand drops limply to the desk as she stares at the glossy surface, finally allowing herself to feel the full depth of her fears.

“I’ve researched, tried to figure it out on my own. It shows all the classic signs of witches, but there’s been no evidence of a coven in town before now. I suppose a new one could have moved in, but I haven’t found any evidence so far. No one suspicious hanging around that I’ve noticed.”

Breathe, she reminds herself sharply. 

“I checked back through as much of my notes as I could find on the hunters I’ve helped with witch cases. I checked in with anyone who had an open case or hadn’t called me back to let me know how their hunts went. Nobody had anything helpful to tell me.”

Silence stretches between them, both waiting for the other to say something, anything. Kimber cracks first.

“Dean, I’m no hunter. I’ve worked it as much as I can from the research end, and I just...I need help. Please.”

Dean’s hand settles atop hers, its warm weight an echo of familiarity, and she swallows hard against the rising bile in her throat. She meets his eyes, and his gaze is malachite.

“We’re gonna figure this out. I know you. You say this sucker’s a witch, I say bring me that bucket of water, Dorothy. We’ll get this fucker, I promise.”

That secret spot in her chest brightens, warms by another degree or two, and she nods her gratitude. “Thank you. So much. Now...it’s been a long day, and I’m kind of beat. Could I invite you over for dinner without it being too weird?”

He squeezes her hand before releasing it with a roll of his eyes. “I can behave myself, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m not feral, Kimber.”

“You’re not exactly tame, either,” she says, softening the words with a half-smile as she stands. She swings her jacket on, and he mirrors her actions. She shuts down her computer while he waits in the hall, looking up and down the corridor.

“I’ll need to do a full sweep of your office and check the scenes of the accidents,” he says as she pulls the door shut behind them and locks it. “Who all has keys to the professors’ offices?”

“Just the cleaning staff and the department secretary, and the professors themselves,” she says. “I can’t think of anyone else who would.” 

He nods, pursing his lips. Suddenly, a smile lights his entire face and he sweeps into a ridiculous bow before popping up and offering her his arm. The years dissolve in an instant, and he’s that seventeen-year-old boy again, still too old for his age but trying so desperately to hang on to that carefree spirit, holding his elbow in her direction after slinging her backpack over his shoulder.

“Walk you home, milady?”

“I would be honored, good sir.” ...

Chapter 2

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.V: Rise of the Primes

pairing(s):  Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre:  Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, blood and gore, very brief depiction of magical torture, mentions of child abuse and other traumatic experiences, etc. 

word count: 8,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Mark remembers a time when he was much younger, much, much more naive, and completely oblivious to his magical roots.  

And while he’s not usually one to look back into his past, nowadays, he can’t help but wonder about those clueless years where his sole care was passing dreaded calculus class and keeping his pot stash hidden from his mom. Sometimes Mark even misses those days—misses his mom.

Mark often wonders what would have happened if his mom wasn’t killed that night. He was only just beginning to learn the basics of witchcraft back then, barely able to keep his emotions in check without blasting a window to pieces. If his mom were still around, would he have done the stupid things he knew better than to do? Would he have sought for such ambitions he knew he could never achieve? Would he have been a better leader, witch, man…?

Yes. Mark knows that. He would be better. 

It’s been years since Mark tried to talk to his mother, having given up trying to summon her spirit when he received a personal message from her telling him to stop—to let her go. Even so, he wishes that he can just have one minute. One short minute to see her face, to look into her eyes, and to ask her the same question that has been haunting his mind since he found her body in a pool of her own blood in their home: 

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

As much as he plays the leader-card, and as much as he acts like he’s all-knowing—Mark has no clue what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s been inside a maze these past nine years, unable to find the right path that leads him to glory. Maybe if she was still here, holding his face in her wrinkled hands and speaking his name in her sweet voice, Mark would know what to do. He’d know how to get rid of the huntress and the witch without taking their lives. He’d know how to protect his people, and the rest of the town. 

He’d know how to be better—to do better. 

Mark shakes his mother’s face from his mind, attempting to focus on the passing scenery of the forest. He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel before reaching forward to turn his air conditioning on full blast, then adjusting his grip again.

It’s been months since he last traveled this way, yet all the sights are the same. The trees are the same trees. The shrubbery, the same shrubbery. Even the rocks haven’t changed save for a new crack or two. That thought actually spills anger through his veins. It’s as if the forest doesn’t realize something is missing—someone is missing.      

‘And it’s your fault.’ 

Mark shakes the intrusive thought away, peering at his companion through the corner of his eye. Jinyoung, like Mark, is merely staring at their surroundings, dark eyes flitting around in every direction. Before everything happened, Mark would have never predicted that one of the Primes would be riding in his passenger’s seat with no care in the world. To be honest, he’s still having a hard time believing him and Jinyoung are on decent terms at all. 

“My sisters and I used to play in these woods.” Mark is taken aback by the sudden, albeit casual comment from the vampire, nearly losing his footing on the gas pedal. He looks to the side once again, discovering Jinyoung’s gaze still fixated outside the window.

Mark clears his throat. “I… didn’t know you had siblings.” 

“It was a long, long time ago.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Besides, we weren’t close anyway.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

His question is answered with silence, and when he turns to the passenger, Jinyoung’s expression is blank, almost cold. Mark decides not to press and focuses back on the road. 

The cabin has not changed either, Mark notices as the structure comes into sight. A heaviness begins to settle within his chest as he parks in the gravel driveway, one that has his heart beating twice its normal speed and palms beginning to sweat. Trying not to dwell on it too much, Mark cuts out the engine and wipes his hands against his jeans. He’s prepared to exit the vehicle when a sudden realization enters his brain. 

Mark turns to Jinyoung and sighs, “I think it might be best for you to stay in the car.” 

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jinyoung agrees, granting the witch a rigid nod.

“Just don’t steal my truck, okay?” 

“This piece of junk?” Jinyoung chortles, “It’s practically falling apart.” 

“Don’t piss her off. She still has to get us home.” Mark finds his chest a little lighter as a result of their banter, something he would never admit aloud to the vampire. With a silent farewell, Mark shoves open his door and steps into the bright sunlight, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses back at the mausoleum. 

The log cabin casts a drowning shadow over Mark as he makes his way toward the figure waiting on the steps that lead up to a redwood porch. Overgrown vines and moss seem to inhabit every available spot of the cabin, winding around wooden supports and spilling down each roof tile. If it hadn’t been for the catch of the sunlight, Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice one of the grimey windows on the second floor had been cracked. 

“Long time no see, hyung.” Mark finds his chest tightening at the tired tone of the figure’s voice. 

He paints what he hopes to be a smile across his lips and nods. “It’s nice to see you, Gyeom.” 

Like the cabin, it has also been months since Mark has seen his younger friend. Yugyeom has always been a giant, towering over him and basically everyone else in town since he hit puberty, but if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the wolf had grown even more. His shoulders are broader, dark hair longer, hands calloused and slightly marred with the throes of hard work. He must still be working for the town’s lumber service. 

Yet another something that hasn’t changed. 

“How… How are things?” 

Yugyeom shrugs. “You know how it is out here. Not much excitement.” 

“Right.” The silence between them grows heavier and heavier with each passing second. Mark searches his brain for something to expel the awkwardness, but can’t seem to see past the guilt and suffocating self-loathing swirling through his gut. 

He thanks the universe when Yugyeom breaks the quiet himself. 

“I know you didn’t come just to check in, hyung.” His gut sinks at the younger’s painfully true observation. “What’s going on? And why can I smell a Prime in your passenger seat?” 

“I don’t if you’ve heard, but Nayeon was killed last week.” 

Yugyeom’s eyes soften. “I saw it on TV. I’m really sorry, hyung,” 

“The people who killed her—a witch and supernatural huntress—they’re after the rest of the coven.” Mark ignores Yugyeom’s sympathy, fiddling with a loose thread inside the pocket of his jeans. “Jinyoung has been helping us track them down. He’s gonna help us fight but…” 

“But you’re not sure if it will be enough.” 

“I know I have no right to show up here and ask for your help, Gyeom.” With a gulp, Mark dares to step closer to the small staircase. Even as far as scaling the first two steps to move closer to his younger companion. Mark shakes his head, “But—I’m desperate. My people are in danger and… and I don’t want anyone else to die.”  

Another moment of silence passes, save for the violent beating of Mark’s pulse. Yugyeom stares at Mark, his gaze a cross between pained and hopeful. Just when the latter feels like his lungs are going to explode, Yugyeom releases a helpless sigh and shakes his head. 

“I want to help you, hyung. I really do… but I can’t risk anyone in the pack. Especially against a hunter.” 

Mark’s heart drops to his stomach. 

Yugyeom sends him a sad expression. “I’m sorry. I really am.” 

“It’s okay. I get it.” Mark nods, taking a rather clumsy step backward off the porch steps. He manages to save himself from the embarrassment of collapsing into the gravel before offering Yugyeom a weak smile. “I… I would do the same thing. If it were my people.” 

“Hyung—” Yugyeom moves to follow Mark, descending a single stair just as the front door swings open. The embers of Mark’s self-loathing grow to flames at the sight of various familiar faces crowded in the doorway, and he wishes nothing more than to cast a spell that makes him completely disappear. 

“What’s going on?... Mark?” Chan emerges behind Yugyeom, his features a mixture of confusion and surprise. Another few bodies join the younger man, each set of eyes reopening a mess of old scars in Mark’s soul. 

“Mark-oppa!” He barely has time to prepare when a smaller figure dashes down the staircase and collides with his body. His arms catch the figure’s waist before her form falls to the ground, supporting her weight against his own form. 

He releases a heavy, yet silent breath. “Dahyun.” 

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dahyun pulls from the embrace with a fierce, yet playful spark within her dark eyes. “It’s been months, Mark! Months!” 

“I know… It’s just been kind of… weird lately.” 

“We’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.” 

He winces. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mark recognizes the familiar gritty tone, turning his eyes from Dahyun to a seething Changbin. The animosity in his glare deepens Mark’s wounds. 

“Changbin. Don’t.” 

“He has no fucking right to be here.” Changbin ignores Chan’s warning, narrowing his eyes to poisonous slits. 

“Changbin! You asshole—”  

“It’s okay. I was… just leaving.” Mark interrupts Dahyun’s scold, peeling himself away from her arm like a bloodied bandage. He spares a glance and a nod to a pained Yugyeom, “Thanks, Gyeom. I’ll see you around, okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dahyun reaches for Mark again. “But you just got here. You can’t just—”  

“Dubu…” Dahyun turns at Yugyeom’s call, watching the sad shake of his head with glittering eyes. “Let him go…” 

Mark’s heart practically cries out at the pure devastation written across the younger woman’s face as she helplessly drops her arms to her sides. He chooses not to linger on her expression, nor Chan’s, nor Yugyeom’s, and with a final nod of his head, makes a break back to his beat-up, rusted truck. 

In mere seconds, Mark is driving away from the cabin—driving away from the pain. It’s not until the cabin is completely gone from his rear-view mirror is he able to inhale a full breath without his lungs screaming out. 

“No one else is going to die.”  

Jinyoung hadn’t said anything at his frantic entrance, nor that he hadn’t paused to throw on his seatbelt. In fact, Mark had almost forgotten the vampire was in the vehicle at all. He turns to find Jinyoung staring out the window, just as before. And if he hadn’t spoken again, Mark would have thought he imagined the voice himself. 

Jinyoung turns, sending chills down Mark’s spine at the intensity of his gaze. 

“You have my word.” 

Mark can’t find it in himself to respond, stuck between unwanted memories and the nostalgia of uncured heartbreak. He instead swallows the bile at the back of his throat, carefully throws on his seatbelt, and turns up the radio. 

The music does nothing to drown out the cruel thoughts raging through his mind. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The scenery outside the car window passes by in verdant blurs, settling a slight wave of nausea in your gut. Not desiring to vomit up the Chinese you ate beforehand, you turn your attention to the young driver instead, meeting her starry-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“How much longer?” 

“The estate is just up this hill, miss.” The driver assures. “It should be no more than a couple minutes.” 

You nod your thanks, peering out the window before remembering your sickness in the first place. With a silent sigh, you abandon the prospect of any sight at all and close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of the headrest. The slight pressure actually somewhat relieves the throb in the back of your brain. The headache that has been present ever since you stormed out on Mark and Jinyoung. 

It’s been almost three days since you learned the truth about Moon Dye Bay and all its supernatural offerings. You’d think by now you’d be able to process the fact that your best friend is a witch, and the charming man that saved you from likely death is a vampire—one of the oldest vampires in existence at that. But alas, you’re still having a hard time believing any of this is possible. Even with all the evidence, and proof, and general rules of logic. 

Then again, vampires and witches and werewolves and hunters and whatever other creatures aren’t exactly logical… considering they go against everything that is the basis of nature. 

Anywho, neither Mark nor Jinyoung has even tried to reach out since that afternoon. In fact, Mark hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts. Though you’re not exactly surprised as both he and Jinyoung made it very clear of your position on the sidelines. 

Too bad you’ve never been much of a player who likes to miss the action. 

“We’ve arrived, miss.” Your eyelids snap open at the sound of the driver’s lilted voice, jaw almost dropping at the sight that awaits. You shimmy forward, greedily taking in the expanse outside the car window as the driver maneuvers the vehicle up the cobblestone-paved driveway. 

If you had to use one word to describe The Project Estate, it would be massive. Completely fucking massive.  With a single glance, you can only imagine how many acres of land make up the entire lot. The mansion itself is bigger than any building you’ve set foot inside, resembling that of a miniature castle without the turrets, walls and moat. You’re pretty sure it’s at least four times the size of your apartment building. 

“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The driver marvels, craning her own head over the steering wheel to take in the view. “The Project Brothers are crazy loaded to be able to afford anything like this… What do you think they do?” 

Rob banks with their vampire super strength? Steal artifacts and masterpieces with their vampire super speed? Accumulate millions and millions of dollars in wealth after being alive for centuries?  

You shrug. “They probably own real estate or something.” 

Once the driver stops in front of what you hope to be the front door, you quickly bid her farewell with a generous tip and exit out onto the stone pathway. The purr of the engine grows fainter and fainter as the vehicle turns back the way you came in, leaving you stranded in the shadow of the towering mansion. You can only hope Jinyoung is home. 

An old fashioned, golden door knocker rests on the door, fashioned into the shape of a growling lion. You ignore the goosebumps forming across the skin underneath your jacket and pick up the knocker. It’s heavy in your palm, striking the door with such powerful strikes, it must be impossible for anyone inside not to hear. 

You visited the cemetery earlier, prepared to convince Mark of your resourceful and beneficial addition to whatever little team he’s gathering, but you only found an empty mausoleum, and an even emptier feeling inside your gut. So you figured you would pay Park Jinyoung a visit at his personal place of residence instead—the same residence him and his brother have resided since 1770.  

Your mind races as you wait, thinking over the long speech you prepared to argue your competence and readiness. You don’t know how long it will take, but you do know that you are not leaving until Jinyoung accepts your help, or at the very least, acknowledges your newfound importance in the situation. 

The killers are your roommate’s friends after all. 

After what seems like minutes, but is probably only a couple seconds, the large, mahogany door swings open. Although, the face that appears in the doorway is not the one you were hoping to see.

A young woman appears behind the door, her babyish features practically exuding the forefronts of her age. She couldn’t be older than twenty, you find, at least, definitely not with a face like that. Her eyes are rather bleary when they meet your own, borderline crimson red. You wonder if she just woke up from a deep sleep after a long night of drinking… 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Jinyoung?” 

“Jinyoung is not home right now.” The woman’s voice is blank, monotone like your boss whenever he’s giving out a lecture. It deepens your concern. You’ve seen your fair share of hangovers between Jihyo and Sana’s party-animal habits, but never one that renders your body so… zombie-like. 

“Do you know where he went? Or maybe when he’ll be home?” 

The woman doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Okay, um…” You gnaw at your bottom lip, carefully thinking over the next plan of action. Due to the woman’s state, it’s pretty obvious you are not going to be able to get much out of her. Maybe you can try Youngjae’s cell, and eventually badger an answer out of him—

“What’s taking so long? Who’s at the door?” The woman steps aside to reveal a familiar face—one that sends gooseflesh budding across your skin.    

 Jaebeom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…? What are you doing here…? ” His expression reminds you of your previous encounter outside the town hall, where he confirmed his and his brother’s vampiric nature. Beneath the surprise in his gaze, you can still make out what seems to be apprehension… almost fear. 

“Is Jinyoung here? I need to talk to him.” 

“He’s not here.” Jaebeom crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “He went on some field trip with that Tuan kid. I have no clue where they went.” 

“Well… do you at least know when he’ll be back?” 

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you need to see my brother anyway?” 

“I told you. I need to speak with him.” 

“Are you sure he even wants to talk to you?” 

The agitation spreading through your veins grows at Jaebeom’s obvious indifference. You swallow down the frustration before sparing a glance back toward the silent woman. She’s staring in your direction, but her eyes don’t seem to be looking at you. Instead, they seem to be looking through you.  

“Is she… okay?” You ask softly, earning another wave of surprise from the Prime. 

Jaebeom leans down to murmur something into the woman’s ear, before she turns on her heel and disappears back inside the house. It might have only been a trick of your mind, but hidden beneath the collar of her shirt may be a wound—a wound that looks strangely like a bite mark. 

Your stomach violently turns as you’re reminded of the other night. Jaebeom was going to feed on you, possibly kill you… but he didn’t. 

You murmur aloud before you can think, “Why?...” 

“What?” 

“Why did you stop?” Jaebeom’s face pales at your questions, indicating he knows exactly what you’re talking about. His throat visibly gulps before he uncrosses his arms and steadies himself back on his own feet. 

“So you know…”

“Know you almost killed me?... Yeah. Kind of hard to forget something like that.” 

Jaebeom shrugs. “You’d be surprised what people can forget under mind compulsion.”   

“Mind compulsion?” Your eyebrows furrow as your head tilts in curiosity. “Don't tell me vampires can control minds?” 

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows, his surrounding features contorting to a mixture of shock and amazement. His eyes shine, lingering over the planes of your face. As if you activated a switch, a sly smirk pulls across his lips. Perfectly complimenting the dangerous mischief swirling inside his dark brown irises. 

“So you know what I am then…” Jaebeom chuckles. You don’t like the way his eyes seem to deviously flicker in the sunlight. “Your witch boyfriend must have you on vervain. That explains why my compulsion didn’t work.” 

You ignore his mention of Mark. “Vervain? What’s that?” 

“An herb. It’s poisonous to vampires.” He explains so casually. “It dulls our abilities, makes humans immune to compulsion, and burns like a fucking bitch.” 

“How do you stand in the sun? Shouldn’t you erupt into flames or something?” 

Jaebeom’s smirk seems to widen. “You ask a lot of questions, little dove. That can get you in trouble.” 

“You won’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think that?” In a flash, Jaebeom is standing right in front of you, his hands threateningly cradling the sides of your head. His eyes bleed pure sadism and malice as he speaks, “I could break your sweet, fragile neck right here, and no one would even know…” 

Any other person would be scared to death. But you know better. 

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have in the alley.” You shake your head, reaching up to grab his wrists and tug his hands from your face. Prowess spills into your chest as his gaze grows surprised once again. 

You nod. “Now, since Jinyoung isn’t here and I really don’t want to pay another hundred dollars to haul my ass back to town, you’re gonna help me understand how this whole vampire thing works.” 

“I’m going to… what now?” 

“You heard me.” You step past Jaebeom and enter the mansion, following the same pathway the previous woman took. You’re barely able to hold back a gasp at the regal interior that greets your entrance. Swallowing your awe, you peer over your shoulder at a rather confused Im Jaebeom and hum delicately, “You don’t happen to drink coffee? Do you?” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I finished the boundary spell, Mark-hyung. No one can get step foot into the cemetery without us knowing.” Jinyoung watches Jisung step outside of his ritual circle, crafted from salt and the burning essence of various herbs. From across the way, Mark provides the younger witch a nod of encouragement before turning to face the Choi duo. 

“You stocked up on enough energy, Youngjae?” 

Youngjae disentangles his hand from Lia’s grasp, his skin ceasing the magical glow Jinyoung has seen many times in siphoners long before anyone in this particular coven was born. The witch hums, “Yes, hyung. I should have plenty to last.” 

“Don’t count on it.” Mark shakes his head, tossing another smoldering herb into the center of the salt boundary. “We have no idea what we’re up against. Everyone needs to keep on their toes, and stay together.”

“Have you… fought something like this before?...” It takes a whole moment of silence for Jinyoung to realize Jisung had directed the question at him. Peering at the youngest witch with his usual blank expression, Jinyoung inhales a deep breath, attempting to push away the whiplash of memories that rage through his head. 

Jinyoung answers, “I have faced many hunters and witches… but never as a pair.” 

“So you’ve fought dark witches?...” 

The inquiry surprises Jinyoung, but for what reason—he doesn’t know.   

“It is not the witches who are dark—it is the magic.” He finally sighs after a long period of silence. “Dark magic plagues the mind like a parasite, laying its eggs in the user’s morals and logicalities until it builds into an infestation, and completely takes over the witch’s sanity.”

Jisung’s face visibly pales. “Does it… kill the witch?” 

“In more ways than one.” Jinyoung catches Mark’s eyes. Inside them is an emotion he knows too well—guilt. 

“Don’t worry, Sung.” Lia sidles beside the youngest witch, weaving her fingers with his own to provide a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be fine… right, Mark?” 

Everyone’s eyes immediately trail to the head witch, and though he doubts anyone else could see, Jinyoung notices the aura of fear and apprehension oozing from Mark’s tense body. He can only imagine how Mark feels—terrified for the lives and wellbeing of the people he calls his family… Jinyoung hasn’t felt that pain in centuries, but it’s impossible to forget. 

Especially when it comes to those you love. 

With eyes of pure, determined fire, Mark nods.

“We do this for Nayeon.” He gathers the witches close, reaching across to take Lia and Jisung’s joint limbs in one hand while the other goes for Youngjae. Something inside Jinyoung’s chest seizes at the heartwarming sight… A memory of both him and Jaebeom suddenly rushes into his thoughts where their hands are tightly clasped between their bodies. Where they stand as brother’s united against the world. 

Where did those times go…? 

“—For Nayeon!” Jinyoung returns just in time to see the group disband from their minimal embrace. Lia and Jisung head back toward the mausoleum, probably to fetch more supplies for the battle just waiting over the horizon, while the remaining two witches approach Jinyoung. Each with a sullen expression along their features. 

Jinyoung clears his throat. “You’re certain they’ll attack tonight?” 

“It’s a new moon. Mina’s power will be it’s strongest.” Mark says, providing Jinyoung a grim frown. “Which is why all of us need to be careful. Like I said, we have no clue what to expect.” 

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slightly turn. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually concerned for me.” 

Mark shakes his head, completely ignoring Jinyoung’s attempt at humor before shifting his focus to Youngjae. “Anything from Minho?” 

“No, hyung. But Jisung left him a message to tell him to stay far away from the cemetery tonight.” 

Mark releases a heavy breath and drags a hand down his face. “That douchebag is gonna get himself killed, goddamn it…” 

“They will be looking for the entire coven, not a lone witch.” Jinyoung assures, feeling the need to expel the head witch’s anxiety. “Minho will be safe. Wherever he is.” 

Mark meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “I hope you’re right.” 

“We should go over the plan of action again.” Abandoning the intensity of Mark’s stare, Jinyoung turns at Youngjae’s offer, discovering the siphoner to already be looking in his direction. 

There’s a subtle waver in Youngjae’s tone as he asks, “You remember what you have to do?” 

Jinyoung nods cooly. “Once you immobilize the witch, I go for the huntress.” 

“And you’re sure you can take her by yourself?” 

“I’ve encountered and destroyed dozens of supernatural hunters over the years.” Jinyoung replies to Youngjae, earning a silent, but visible eye roll from the other witch. He ignores Mark’s annoyance, nodding again at the younger siphoner. “I’m strong enough.” 

Jinyoung only hopes that will be true. 

“Good.” Youngjae turns to Mark. “Once Mina steps foot onto our grounds, the spell will immediately take effect… She’ll be in pain. Immense, torturous pain.” 

Jinyoung notices how Mark’s shoulders shiver at the description. 

He gulps. “This will work. It has to.” 

“It will.” Jinyoung offers again, placing a gentle hand against Mark’s elbow. The latter grows surprised for a moment, before a weak upturn of his lips signifies his gratitude. 

Jinyoung immediately pulls away from Mark as a loud shriek erupts through the graveyard. The first to wake out of the alarmed stupor is Mark, who immediately shifts on his heel and dashes for the entrance of the cemetery, where the noise had previously erupted. Youngjae runs after him, followed closely behind by Jinyoung. 

“Mark-hyung! Wait, don’t—” 

“There’s someone here! Get Lia and Jisung out here!” Jinyoung provides Youngjae a nod, assuring the witch to follow his leader’s demand. The siphoner makes a break for the mausoleum while Jinyoung scales the rest of the distance toward the head witch, who’s standing mere feet from the iron gate that acts as the only access point into Eclipse Cemetery—where a shadowy figure is helplessly squirming on the graveled-earth. 

Jinyoung grabs Mark’s wrist before he can lunge at the figure, frantically shaking his head. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?” 

“That son of a bitch murdered my friend—” Mark hisses, wrenching his limb away from Jinyoung’s grasp and pushing his body away with a hefty shove. “You don’t want to test the reliability of my self-control right now… so I suggest you back off and do your own damn job!”

“Wait for the others, at least!” Jinyoung urges, “Be smart about this, Mark! Trust me—!” 

“Don’t tell me what to fucking—” 

“Mark-hyung!” Surprise mirrors itself along both Jinyoung and Mark’s features. The head witch quickly leaves Jinyoung to kneel beside the figure hidden beneath the darkness of the moonless night. Jinyoung hurries to Mark’s side, his eyes widening to saucers at the familiar features he can barely make out in the obscurity. 

Mark gapes. “Minho…?” 

“Wh-What is—ha!.. Hap-happening?...” Minho manages to spill through gritted teeth with much struggle. Jinyoung recognizes the writhing and twitching of his limbs, as well as the wild nature of his gaze—Youngjae wasn’t lying about the pain. 

“Shit, Minho—” Mark hurriedly mutters a counter-incantation beneath his breath, pulling the younger witch to lean against his chest. Even with the spell lifted, Minho continues to spasm and moan at the phantom waves that send pain through his form. 

Mark shakes his head. “What in the actual hell are you doing here!?” 

“What… What the fuck are you talking about?” Minho gasps, clutching onto the sleeves of Mark’s shirt as another wave passes through his veins. “You… called me, asshole!” 

“What the fu—? I never called you! Jisung told you to stay home!” 

“I-I… talked to you earlier.” Minho inhales something close to a wheeze before lightly poking Mark’s chest. “You told me to… to come to the ‘maus’ at mid-midnight…”  

Jinyoung feels his blood run cold, but his tone is even colder: 

“They knew it was a trap…” 

Mark’s eyes are wild with desperation and fright as he meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “The others—” A loud, high-pitched wail cuts off Mark’s speech. Neither him nor Jinyoung waste any time and make a mad dash for the mausoleum, Jinyoung’s heart racing in his throat. The first thing he notices is the door of the structure—wide open and practically torn off its hinges. 

“Youngjae! Lia! Jisung!” Mark screams, sprinting inside the mausoleum with no hesitation. Jinyoung pauses in the doorway, watching as the head witch frantically surveys the place, only to find it completely empty save for himself. Tears are glistening in his eyes as he shakes his head, “Where the fuck are they!? Oh my fucking god—”  

“If the boundary spell caught Minho, then they could have gotten in anywhere!” Jinyoung steps aside just in time for Mark to race outside again. “We need to be careful! Especially if they have—!” 

“Mark-hyung!” Youngjae’s call carries through the nightly breeze, brewing even more uncontrolled fear in Jinyoung’s chest. 

“Youngjae!” Jinyoung can barely keep up with Mark’s frantic pace as he tears deeper into the graveyard, skipping over headstones and rounding tall statues with the skill of a professional athlete. He somehow manages to keep up. Just in arms reach of the head witch. 

“Youngjae!? Youngjae!?” Mark sobs, pausing to peer through the continuous hills of graves and monuments for the forgotten. “Jisung!? Lia!? Where are you!?” 

Through the very corner of his eye, Jinyoung notices a speck of movement emerge from behind a nearby tree. Time seems to slow as he focuses closer on that tree, immediately noticing a human-like shadow holding something between stoic hands—holding a loaded crossbow pointed directly at Mark. 

Using every bout of vampiric strength in his possession, Jinyoung sprints toward the head witch just as the bolt leaves the barrel of the crossbow. 

“Mark! Get down!” 

“Jinyoung—!?” 

Jinyoung can hear nothing but screams and the ringing of his own ears as he shields Mark’s body with his own. Somewhere deep inside, as the crossbow bolt pierces his flesh, he can hear something that fills his soul with immense warmth… 

It’s your voice—telling him to go to hell, as he immediately succumbs to a violent wave of darkness. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re… a werewolf and a vampire?” Jaebeom watches your eyebrows raise to the heavens over the rim of his glass, swallowing the sweeter-than-sweet liquid before licking the remnants from his lips. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and had a cup of coffee, much less drank something that wasn’t straight from the vein. 

To be honest, he’d much rather be feeding from the blonde woman waiting in his bedroom. But something about being with you is too addicting to pass up… and that scares him. 

You shake your head. “Isn’t that like… ironic? Considering vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies?” 

An amused chuckle spills from his lips as you fumble with your own teacup, barely managing to save its matching saucer before it clatters to the floor. Your annoyed glare pulls more laughter out of him, and it takes a good portion of his self-control not to smile. 

After taking another sip of his coffee, Jaebeom shrugs. “I was born a werewolf, and it carried over when Jinyoung and I became vampires.” 

“How did that happen anyway?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs at the ankle with a tilt of your head. “I mean, did you and Jinyoung choose to become…what you are?” 

“Yes and no,” He hums. 

“So you chose to become monsters?” 

“You consider my brother and I monsters…?” 

Jaebeom doesn’t like the serious expression that pulls across your features. “I know you’ve killed a lot of people… and have done some pretty fucked up things.” 

“A millennium is a long time to be alive, little dove.” Your obvious distaste at the nickname fills his chest with comedic pleasure. He smirks, “You get a little bored after a while.” 

“Normal people read books when they’re bored, or find a new hobby.” 

“Killing isn’t a hobby then…?” 

Your response is a look of pure disgust. 

Jaebeom howls in laughter before inhaling the remainder of his coffee in one gulp. He heaves a sigh, peering out the large, stained-glass window. Partly to recollect his thoughts. Partly to allow the obvious tension to dissipate between his and your forms. 

Now inside his own head, Jaebeom wonders whether or not he should have said such a barbaric statement in the first place. If it were anyone else, Jaebeom would care less about protecting his image—but it’s you. And something inside him warns him to be careful around you… Very, very careful. 

“Jinyoung and I were children when we found each other.” Jaebeom sighs, feeling the weight of your surprised gaze on the side of his face. “After my own caregivers abandoned me, he convinced his parents to take me in… It wasn’t until I lived inside their home did I realize how cruel they were.” 

“Cruel…?” 

“Jinyoung was a bastard child.” He explains, “His mother had an affair with a village merchant. After his father found out, he murdered his wife’s lover and made Jinyoung’s life a living hell.” 

Jaebeom rises from his armchair and grabs his empty cup before heading for the liquor tray in front of the same window he was previously staring out. While pouring himself a drink, Jaebeom makes sure to raise his voice so you can still hear: 

“For years, I watched that asshole beat the shit out of Jinyoung while his mother and sisters sat back and didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He downs the brandy in one sweet gulp before selecting a stronger bottle of scotch. Not bothering with his cup, Jaebeom unscrews the cap and takes a long, drawn-out swig from the container. Fire erupts through his belly, sending the beginning of a pleasurable buzz through his veins. 

“One day I got fed up with it all, and when the fucker tried to lash Jinyoung for refusing to shoot a fawn, I took that belt right out of his hands, wrapped it around his neck, and squeezed and squeezed until the light left his eyes…” 

Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices how your body grows tense at his confession. 

He whirls around to meet your gaze, pushing away the pestering emotions without so much as a blink before continuing, “We were banished by his family and the other villagers, but we didn’t care—we had each other, and we needed no one else.

“We encountered a witch one day, as we were walking through the forest.” Jaebeom says after another sip, “She told us she could give us a gift like no other: Eternal life. We only had to take part in a ritual, and death would never come for us.” 

You shake your head. “Why? Why would you want to live forever?” 

“If you were given the chance to be invincible against everything, even time, wouldn’t a small part of you be somewhat interested?” 

He allows you a moment to ponder his question. After maybe a minute or so, you release a silent huff and gesture for him to continue. 

“The witch tricked us though, and in trade for immortality, we were forced to sacrifice our humanity.” 

Your eyes widen. “So you didn’t… choose to become vampires?” 

“No.” Jaebeom sets down his bottle with one hand while carding his fingers through his hair with the other. “Anyway, Jinyoung and I spent decades learning how to manage our newfound abilities, and even longer on how to handle the lifestyle.” 

“If you and Jinyoung were the first—the Prime Two—did you create more vampires?” 

He chuckles with a sigh, “Yes. Though it was by accident how we found out.

“Fledgling vampires branched off from our bloodline are different. They’re not as fast, nor as strong, nor as powerful as us.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I can compel humans and other vampires, but vampires can only compel humans.” 

“Are fledglings immortal too?” 

“To some extent.” Crossing back across the room, Jaebeom lowers into the armchair beside your own. Now close enough to see the curious spark of wonder in your irises. “It is possible for a fledgling to live forever, but unlike Jinyoung and I, fledglings can be killed with a wooden stake through the heart.” 

“Nice to know that much is true.” Jaebeom relishes the borderline amused chuckle that leaves your lips, playing the odd elation off as the effects of the alcohol. “Is it also true that a bite from a vampire turns you into a vampire?” 

He snorts, “Let me guess… Got that from Twilight?

“Just answer the question.” 

“The only way to become a vampire is if you die with vampire blood in your system.” He hums, “After you die, you’ll wake up in transition, and will need to drink human blood to complete the transformation.” 

“And if you choose not to complete it?” 

“Then you die for real.” 

You shift at his answer, finding interest in the chipped edge of your cup. Jaebeom wonders whether he should change the topic of interest, but before he can think up some possible options, you steer the conversation yourself: 

“You never told me why.” 

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “What?” 

“Why you left me in that alleyway.” 

For the first time, Jaebeom feels vulnerable underneath the scrutiny of your eyes. He fidgets uncomfortably, and like you, searches the room for another object to hold his attention. However, whether it’s because of the whiskey, or something else, his gaze returns to and remains rooted on your own. 

What is it about you? The thought spirals through his thoughts like a 2-seater plane with broken wings. Maybe he should have listened to Jinyoung, and stayed away from you in the first place. Because whatever game you’re playing, whatever spell you have him under… it’s messing with his head.  

And he doesn’t like to be fucked around with. 

Finally, after what seems like hours, Jaebeom shakes his head. “I don’t kn—” 

A sudden crash emerges from the foyer, effectively interrupting his explanation. Jaebeom leaps from his seat and speeds in front of where you’re sitting, shielding your form from the entryway where the noise sounded. His protective stance vanishes, however, at the figure that appears in the doorway. 

Jaebeom tsks. “Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.” 

“Jinyoung…?” Jaebeom steps aside to allow you to step forward, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He moves to fetch himself another drink when your exclaim stops him, “Holy shit! What the hell happened to you!?” 

Upon taking care to really look at his brother, Jaebeom understands the reason for your concern. Jinyoung’s usual clean-cut and formal appearance is nonexistent. From head to toe, he’s covered in dirt, and his dark hair is far past disheveled. His clothes are badly torn and wrinkled, and practically soaked in fresh blood. Jaebeom quickly realizes the blood does belong to Jinyoung, noticing the large, thick bolt protruding from his chest. 

Jinyoung winces, “It’s a long story… but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down first.” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The gleam of the awakening sun rising over the horizon sears Yugyeom’s eyes, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the entryway of the cemetery. No matter how much the newfound sunlight burns his eyes, he continues to watch the shadows of the night disperse in fear of the approaching morning. He knows pain all too well. 

“Gyeom?” 

Yugyeom greets Chan silently, with a curt nod. His stare remains frozen on the gate. 

Chan sidles up beside him until they are shoulder to shoulder. His own gaze glances at Yugyeom’s point of interest for a moment before he turns to look at his companion in the early morning glow. Through his peripheral vision, Yugyeom can spot Chan’s grim expression. 

 “How’s the coven?” Yugyeom asks after a long bout of silence.

Chan shrugs, “Minho, Jisung and Lia were all sleeping when I left. And Youngjae, he’s…” When his voice trails off, Yugyeom doesn’t urge Chan to finish his sentence. He knows exactly how Youngjae is right now. 

Terrified. 

“What should we do with the body?” 

Yugyeom barely blinks. “Probably best to burn it. Can’t leave anything up to chance.” 

Chan hums in agreement, seemingly ready to return to the mausoleum, but to Yugyeom’s surprise, Chan remains in place. Another long, tense round of silence carries between them, filling Yugyeom’s head with even more heart wrenching memories. After another mind-spiralling hurricane or two, Chan breaks the silence again:

“We made the right decision. If we got here any later, that huntress would have killed everyone.”  

Yugyeom shakes his head, “The huntress was working with a witch, and we only found the one… We should have gotten here sooner.” 

“Youngjae thinks the huntress was working alone tonight.” Chan says, lifting his palm to shield his eyes from the blinding sunrise. “There were no traces of unfamiliar magic… nor did we catch anyone else’s scent in the cemetery.” 

“Then where is the witch?” Yugyeom moves his attention away from the graveyard entrance, and with aching eyes, turns to meet his Alpha’s downcast gaze, “And more importantly, where the hell is Mark-hyung…?”  

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You hold back a wince as Jaebeom literally tears the bolt from Jinyoung’s chest, earning a pained grunt from said victim. Dark blood splatters from the now open wound, painting across Jaebeom’s skin and adding even more stains to Jinyoung’s unsalvageable shirt. Disgust fills your gut as Jaebeom offers Jinyoung what seems to be a glass of blood—probably from that blonde woman you encountered at the door. 

Jinyoung shakes his head and pushes the drink away. “No. I’m alright.” 

“You would have healed by now if you were.” Jaebeom tries again, “Just take a sip.” 

“No.” 

“Suit yourself.” Your eyes widen in both surprise and revulsion, watching Jaebeom knock back the glass and down the blood in one large gulp. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you carefully approach the wounded vampire, holding forth a clean towel. 

Jinyoung takes the garment and sends a grateful smile in return. “Thank you, (Y/N).” 

You nod, “Sure.” 

Jinyoung presses the bunched fabric to his gaping wound, hissing through gritted teeth at the sudden pressure. You wonder whether or not you should grab the emergency Tylenol from your bag… Does pain medication even work on vampires? Aren’t they technically dead?

“We were ambushed at the cemetery.” Jinyoung explains, pulling you from your foolish thoughts. “After the huntress shot me, I must have hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“Sounds like a pretty unfortunate story.” 

Jinyoung chuckles at your joke before continuing, “When I came to, the wolf pack had killed her and Mark was gone.” 

Panic immediately spreads through your veins like flames to dry wood. “Mark? What do you mean he’s gone?” 

“I’m not sure. We searched the entire graveyard, but there was no sign of him.” 

You open your mouth to inquire further, but Jaebeom’s loud exhale cuts you off. Both you and Jinyoung turn to peer at the hybrid, finding him staring out the large window while drumming his fingertips against the red- and blue-stained glass. After a quiet moment filled with the rhythm of his fingers and Jinyoung’s marred breathing, Jaebeom peers over his shoulder—his eyes glaring daggers straight at his brother. 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Hyung—” 

“I told you not to get involved with Tuan.” The dark, bitter tone that leaves Jaebeom’s lips sends a harsh shiver down your spine, more so since the comment included mention of your best friend.

“And I told you I’m taking care of it.” 

“Can you not just do what you’re fucking told just once? Just one goddamn time—?” 

To both your and Jaebeom’s surprise, Jinyoung suddenly leans forward in his seat and retches violently. You rush forward, splaying your hands across his back while asking about his condition. Your response is another retching noise, and in just the nick of time, you manage to step out of the way before Jinyoung vomits red across the carpet. 

“Fucking god, Jinyoung! What the hell is wrong with him!?” You call out to Jaebeom, squeezing Jinyoung’s shoulders as he heaves again. After another gag or two, you help Jinyoung to lean back into the armchair, wiping the bloody remnants from his lip with a towelette. Your knuckles brush the arch of his cheekbone—his skin is hot to the touch. 

“He’s burning up! What do we do!?” 

“It’s… werewolf venom.” Jinyoung gasps, weakly pulling your wrist away from his face.  

You shake your head, “W-Werewolf venom?” 

“A werewolf’s bite is deadly to vampires.” Jaebeom explains, barely batting an eyelash as Jinyoung lurches forward with another gag. 

“But he wasn’t bitten? How the hell—?” 

“The crossbow bolts must have been poisoned.” Your anxiety skyrockets, worriedly staring as Jinyoung begins to choke on his own blood. Jaebeom glances outside the window again, murmuring, “He won’t die… The effects will pass in a day or so.” 

“But can’t you heal him!?” You jump to your feet, narrowly avoiding a puddle of dark blood before dashing over to Jaebeom. Your fingers desperately latch onto the lapels of his leather jackets, tugging him down to meet your eyes. “You’re a hybrid, so your blood should technically flush the venom out of his system? Right?” 

Jaebeom’s lips twitch. “You’re smart, little dove. I’ll give you that.” 

“So you’ll heal him?” 

You wait in utter agony as the hybrid considers your request, staring blankly at the features of your face. You can only imagine how much you resemble a crazed, mad woman, but you can care less. Right now, your sole focus is on Jinyoung and ending whatever horrible fate awaits. Jaebeom wouldn’t let his best friend—the man he calls his brother—suffer in absolute anguish… 

Not when he killed Jinyoung’s own father to protect him. 

After a miserable moment of silence, Jaebeom releases a heavy exhale through his nose before meeting your gaze. The bubble of hope expands inside your chest when the hybrid offers a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You shiver as that same hand lightly grasps your chin, guiding your face closer until you can taste the alcohol on Jaebeom’s breath. 

All in a matter of seconds, that bubble of hope pops at Jaebeom’s curt answer: 

“No.” 

You watch in horror as Jaebeom releases your chin, turns on his heel, and leaves you by your lonesome with a wounded Jinyoung, and even more wounded soul.

[ryttu3k]

Night Road quote text dump, because I've been deluging a friend with quotes and want a place to keep them all.

We're a bit like that, yeah:

They direct you to a hulking Malkavian named Severian, and the sullen giant directs you in turn to Gibberish Mike.

Fortunately, it turns out that "Gibberish" Mike is just Australian.

Practical concerns:

"That's it!" Elena says, leaning over your shoulder. "That's his yacht. Oh, and this is all about him. Very useful." She snaps a picture of the email with her phone, then the two of you get out of there before the technician returns. You head down the elevator and then back to Elena's Datsun.

You're so pleased by how well that went that that it takes you a few minutes to remember you're in Arizona.

"His yacht?" you finally ask.

Fun with bungalow ownership:

After a day of fitful dreams, you throw on your leather jacket and engineer boots and get ready for another night. You step outside to check your Integra. A neighbor parks next door in her Ford Super Duty and gives you a friendly little wave. You've been practicing this. You're ready.

"Howdy, neighbor."

"Howdy!" she responds before heading inside.

Fucking nailed it. You're one of them.

This is legitimately how I got the Messy Critical achievement:

You grab a hoe.

You rip through the underbrush with savage efficiency, staying a few steps ahead of the pushcart as Julian scans. You work in a trance, chopping and hammering. Only when you hear Julian shouting do you realize that you're holding a busted length of wood.

The head of your hoe is buried in the beautiful round black door of Prince Lettow's Rolls-Royce.

Raúlblocked:

You head to Raúl's place, but he's not there. You find a note hidden above the door that reads, "Problems in Phoenix. (Jesus Christ has returned? Stole a car?) Contact me right away for major jobs and I'll come back. Already missing you." And there's a ProtonMail address with some of the security contact codes you agreed upon earlier.

But it looks like Raúl will be occupied dealing with the Lord and His automotive crimes, and he won't be able to wander around Tucson with you.

Pattermuster doesn't get paid enough:

"Hello? What? Well, the blood can't be 'everywhere.' Surely that's an exagger—okay—okay, fine. Okay. Okay, I'll get—okay. Five minutes. What? No, Sissy Spacek. No, Sissy—you're thinking of Rosemary's Baby. No, Carrie had the prom scene. With all the pig's—yes, it was Sissy Spacek, I'm sure. That much blood? Jesus. Okay, hold—five—okay, five minutes."

Valid question:

Do they teach ax fighting at Quantico?

Julian Meyer:

"Man, it's been a while," Julian says, leaning against your door frame. "I remember the nights we spent keeping that elder asleep with offerings of blood, the days curled up together in the desert. Wasn't it romantic?"

"That never happened, Julian. You made up our relationship and tried to sell it as a novel until the old Prince of Tucson threatened to execute you." '

"Vampire romance was big at the time," Julian says with a shrug. "And I changed our names. I still don't know why no one wanted to buy it."

Dammit I thought I was done with uni:

"Awful," Dr. Caul says with a little shudder. "But now your real studies can begin."

Your real studies consist of a syllabus (thirty pages) and a trunk full of books (35,000 pages).

"Are you disappointed, Rook?" she says with a little laugh. "Were you expecting something more mystical? A bolt of cosmic enlightenment? A conversation with your Holy Guardian Angel, who would reveal the answers you seek?" She bangs the trunk as technicians get ready to load it into your car. "Get reading."

An enthusiastic boss:

You reunite with Pattermuster down in the morgue, where he's pumping his fists as a thin-blood on a gaming laptop watches with a worried expression because she can't tell if he's incredibly happy or insanely mad.

"Rook!" Pattermuster shouts, his eyes full of Blood, "you did it! You brilliant child, you did it! We're safe. Oh, thank God, we're safe." He pulls you into an embrace, then punches a brick wall because he's so happy, showering all three of you in dust.

I thought that was Finland?:

You catch all sorts of whispered gossip as you cross the rooftop garden.

"Camp Scheffler?"

"Gone. That Outlander courier had something to do with it."

"I heard the Russians helped the SI burn it down."

"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as Russians."

Pot, kettle:

"Julian," the Eagle Prince says, "you will locate Reremouse with the equipment Vane brought. Once we find him, we will strike shortly before dawn. I have prepared a stake sufficient to pierce even his old hide."

"That easy, huh?" Julian says.

"No, but—"

"Your plan is ridiculous, convoluted, and dangerous," Julian says.

"And you have a better one?"

"Absolutely," Julian says. "We use Stonehenge to teleport him to Mesopotamia."

The must-have appliance:

He's a black outline in the glow of a single yellow bulb... and then the bats descend.

And then the bats get torn to pieces, because Pattermuster pulls his two katanas out of nothing and turns into an undead Cuisinart for a few seconds.

But aesthetic:

Leave it to a vampire to bring a sword to a gunfight.

It is pretty cool though:

"Oh my God," Julian says. "You're going to use the car engine to fling Prometheus into Reremouse's heart."

"Dammit, Julian, I am not doing this because it's fun. I am scrambling for every advantage I can because we only have one chance to stop Reremouse, and if we fail, the Second Inquisition will descend on us like wolves on a wounded deer."

"It's still cool," Julian mutters.

A e s t h e t i c:

The Camarilla looks unkindly on vampires who dress like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, but what's the point of being dead if you can't look the part?

#JustToreadorThings:

You sleep badly and awaken to an aching and acute Hunger that crowds out other thoughts. But when you approach the Rolls-Royce, you find Lettow and Julian seated on a blanket, evidently in fine spirits. They're holding stainless steel mugs as they watch the last purple streaks fade from the western sky. There's something perfect about the composition before you: the two Kindred in their working clothes with their backs to you, the blue-black clouds, the faraway mesas framing the scene.

"I fear we've lost the Aesthete," Lettow muses. "Luka? Luka!"

It's just good sense:

A lot of keypads use 0911 as an emergency override for police and fire. That doesn't work, but a common default password causes the elevator doors to slide right open.

Change your defaults, people.

They draw the line at 31%:

Not all problems can be solved by putting a brick through a window, but at least 30 percent can.

Descriptive:

That's when your Nissan makes a sound like a bunch of typewriter keys dropped in a blender, and the whole truck lurches to a halt.

Munch munch:

"There are tags attached to all the payroll numbers," you say. "FNMA. PFC. What are they?"

"FNMA?" Antonio says. "That's Fannie Mae. The loan commission. Privatized in 1968. PFC…"

"Pavlodar Fried Chicken," Janet says. "Damn Commies."

Courier what did you do:

When you try to start your Mercedes, it vomits black smoke. That's not good. You kill the engine.

"Pop the hood," Julian says. "I'll get it up and running."

He checks the motor. There's a long pause.

"Did you melt a bunch of cheese in here or something, Vane?"

“I remember crawling out of a Nieuport 20 outside Gibraltar," Prince Lettow says. "The engine looked like that. Of course, ours had been on fire."

"Engine looks like Vane fed a bunch of sardine cans into a paper shredder," Julian says.

Almost!:

So Lettow is cute. I'm going to talk to him and see if he might be interested in a handsome young courier who almost has his own car.

Scientist life:

A beaker of cold coffee on her desk has a pencil in it; she flicks the pencil away and drains the entire beaker, then looks you in the eyes.

Domesticity:

"Wow, Vane," the Banu Haqim says, "did you finally settle down. Where's the wife and kids? Why don't you get me a beer, and we can talk about football and quote some Bible verses at each other?"

I really want to know where the fake werewolf came in:

"...so the whole fucking Cadillac is on fire, and I'm kicking and kicking, trying to get the window to break!" Dove says.

"Right, right, because —" You're trying to follow this story, and it isn't easy.

"Because I'm still handcuffed to the guy who was pretending to be a werewolf, right. And I finally kick through the window, rip half the dead fake werewolf's arm off to get free — I'm out of my fucking mind now, with all the fire — and I finally crawl out of the car."

"And get clear before it — do they blow up?"

"Escalades? I dunno, probably not," Dove says. "But anyway, I'm finally clear, so I run across the parking lot, laughing because I'm just thrilled not to have met final death chained up to that guy. And I barely have time to look up before Lettow comes screaming around the corner in a Ford Bronco with the lights off and runs me over. I was in the wrong Cadillac the whole time."

"No!"

"Two black Cadillac Escalades in the parking lot of the Marriott," Dove says. "How was I supposed to know which one — anyway, that's why I don't get to drive anymore. That's why Lettow wants assholes like you driving."

"Driving what?" you ask. "Because I need a car."

Dove shakes her ugly head. "I'll get you something. Give me a few hours to work on it, and I'll send someone to find you."

Cars are everything:

You still don't know how Julian plans to go from "divert a few funds and data streams from the Camarilla" to "transform the global information panopticon in a way that ends the Masquerade but keeps vampires safe," but he has a nicer car than last time, so he must be doing something right.

Guys please be nice to Raul:

"There appears to be a vampire hunter outside," he says, "investigating your electric vehicle."

"Send your bird to peck his eyes out," Julian says. "I'm not going outside until I find my sneakers."

Cheese?:

Over the next few minutes, you cough up a glorious wad of bullshit involving MKUltra, the Philadelphia Experiment, Star Wars (the movie), Star Wars (the Reagan-era government program), Jackson Pollack's CIA connections, the history of federal cheese, and the secret mastermind behind the seventies gas crunch.

In fairness it's a pretty rare sound:

You're way up in Limberlost, near the mall and the Walmart, when Riga settles on the roof of a Safeway. You reverse into the parking lot in case you need to get out fast and scan the cars at the pumps. It looks quiet. Then you hear a faint ringing.

The sound is musical, hypnotic. It reminds you of your childhood, and for a long time you just sit there in the driver's seat, remembering what it was like to be alive. But what is that sound? What memory from…?

Oh, right.

The pay phone next to the ice merchandiser is ringing.

It's a skill!:

Not every member of Clan Toreador joins their august ranks because of their great beauty or artistic genius. Some people end up vampires because of their extensive knowledge of Adobe After Effects.

Big Pirates of the Caribbean energy:

"I'd kind of like to give Lettow here a horse and a sword and let him tear through an entire police barracks," Julian says. "Tell me that wouldn't be fun."

"One thing I learned from Napoleon," Lettow says, "is that the most powerful cannon is useless if you cannot see your target. We know the location of one small encampment. That isn't enough to start shooting."

"You knew Napoleon?" Julian asks.

"Napoleon was my horse," Lettow says.

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Seungcheol: Stubborn (Part 11)

Characters: Seungcheol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff but also like fluffy angst??, a little bit of crack thanks to Josh

Word count: 3,907

Summary: You’ve heard the stories your relatives told you about werewolves when you were younger, but you always thought it was just a scare tactic to make kids behave. Well, up until you woke up in a den full of werewolves.

a/n: I think this is the first part that’s completely different from Seungcheol’s original storyline. but uhhh I hope it’s alright???

Previous | Next | Stubborn Masterlist

“What?!”

Your tone was just as sharp as you intended it to be. Seungcheol had to be out of his mind if he thought this was the answer, but considering his expression was unwavering, he was absolutely out of his goddamn mind.

“It’s not safe for you here right now,” Seungcheol elaborated. “Danbi’s going, too.”

You didn’t understand why the alphas thought sending you off to Soomin’s was the answer. These were werewolf hunters they were up against. Werewolf hunters were basically the only real predator to werewolves other than other werewolves. With you being an ordinary human, they were no more deadly to you than a regular hunter. But to a werewolf? Fighting them would be suicide.

“How are Danbi and I alike other than the fact we’re human?” you questioned, knowing you were far more skilled than Danbi was. “I’ve proven I can hold my own, haven’t I? I saved you from these creeps before!”

“Yeah, and they chased you however many hours away!” Seungcheol reminded you. “This isn’t up for discussion, _____.”

“You can’t make me go!” you shouted.

Seungcheol stepped toward you, eyes narrowing, “Wanna bet?”

The anger and adrenaline in you had you closing the little gap between the two of you, standing toe-to-toe with him as you matched his glare, “You wouldn’t.”

-

Seungcheol might not, but Soonyoung absolutely would. He had to carry you over his shoulder all the way to Soomin’s with Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Danbi leading the way. You were kicking and thrashing and yelling threats at first, but it  turned into you just grumbling angrily to yourself as you were carried to the small cottage in the forest.

“Now that you’re done hitting me,” Soonyoung said with a slight sourness to his tone, “I can let you down if you’d like.”

“We’re already almost there,” you huffed in annoyance, “there’s not really any point now.”

So Soonyoung carried you all the way to Soomin’s. It wasn’t until somebody knocked on her door that he set you on the ground. But you didn’t turn to face the door or the backs of the others. You stayed facing the way you’d come, arms crossed over your chest.

Were you acting like a child? Yes. But did you feel like you had good reason to be upset? Absolutely.

While Soomin opened the door, Seungcheol went over to stand in front of you, giving you an apologetic look. You merely glanced up at him before staring passed him instead, your expression hard. If he was sorry, he would let you help. Instead, he was going to willingly get himself killed.

“_____, please don’t be mad at me,” he begged.

You didn’t reply.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I just want to keep you safe.”

“And who keeps you safe?” you snapped, finally looking up at him, though your glare was just about burning a hole in his face.

“My pack,” he replied calmly. “We can take care of it.”

“A bunch of werewolves are going up against werewolf hunters,” you stated. “Do you not hear yourself? You may as well just walk into town with your yellow eyes and fangs out!”

While it made Seungcheol happy that you cared enough about him not dying that you’d get upset you couldn’t help, he refused to put you in harm’s way. He knew you wouldn’t forgive him for it, but he’d rather that than get you injured or worse. 

“You just have to trust me,” he told you simply, not knowing what else to say to make you feel better.

“You can’t promise me that nothing bad will happen to anybody in the pack,” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes, “including to you.”

Seungcheol sighed and wrapped his arms around you. You let him, but you didn’t go to hug him back. You just stood still in his warm embrace.

“I’ll do anything and everything it takes to get back to you,” he swore, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, “I promise.”

But you still couldn’t trust that promise.

-

You had two specific rules to follow while staying with Soomin: don’t go back to the house until somebody from the pack comes for you, and don’t give Soomin or Danbi a hard time. But considering your past as a thief, the pack should’ve expected that you were never one to follow rules, and one of those rules was about to be broken -- possibly both of them if either of the girls woke up.

You waited until it was late into the night to sneak out. Both Soomin and Danbi were fast asleep, and that was when you decided to leave the house. Neither of them would be around to stop you, and you technically wouldn’t be breaking the second rule since neither of them would even know you were gone.

The plan you had in mind was to sneak through the woods to the house and watch out for any werewolf hunters. Obviously nobody was sure when they would show up, but they assumed it would be very soon since they were now aware that werewolves really were in the area. So even if you lost sleep over this for no reason, it would still be worth it to know everybody was safe.

Getting out of the house was easy. You insisted that Danbi share the bed with Soomin while you took the couch, so neither girl knew you had left. You had grabbed a knife from the kitchen before you slipped out quickly and quietly, closing the door just as silently as you had left. Then you ran toward the house with the knife in your hand. It was a shitty weapon against guns or crossbows, but it was all you had. It was definitely better than nothing.

You slowed when you got closer to the house. In case anybody was around, you didn’t want to get caught. You tried to move as quietly as you could through the forest, keeping your ears open for any talking or signs that there were--

“What’re you doing?”

You almost screamed, jumping as you spun toward the source of the voice and held the knife out with both hands. But when you saw the glowing yellow eyes, you relaxed and let out a breath, trying to get your heart rate back down.

“Joshua, what the fuck!” you demanded. “I could’ve stabbed you!”

“You, I’m not afraid of,” he replied coolly. “Anyway, you’re not being sneaky. At least three of us know you’re out here.”

“What? How?”

“We’re working in shifts to check the perimeter. Chan, Wonwoo, and I all heard you out here.”

You let out an annoyed huff, but you had to at least be thankful that Seungcheol didn’t--

“Chan already went to tell Seungcheol so he can deal with you,” Josh told you as if he knew your thoughts.

You let out a groan, wishing that maybe you had stabbed Josh. But he seemed almost amused by your distress as he put a hand on the small of your back and started leading you closer to the house.

“C’mon; you’re not my issue to deal with,” he smirked as he brought you closer to the house that Seungcheol was no doubt racing out of right now.

Chan had the power of speed, so it really didn’t take long for him to get to the house to report to the alpha that you were wandering out in the woods. And sure enough, he was angry when he sat up and left the house in just his bottoms he was sleeping in. As if sleeping on the floor to give another member of the pack the couch wasn’t bad enough, now you were out wandering the woods when hunters could be out there -- or any other vicious wild animal.

He stomped out of the house, running along with the youngest who had slowed his pace as to not race off ahead. Seungcheol knew exactly where you were because of the pull, and he knew that you were also slowly getting closer to him, as well. Chan had mentioned that Josh was going to go make sure you didn’t do anything stupid, but Seungcheol also knew that the no-nonsense werewolf would probably give you an earful, too.

The closer they got ,Seungcheol could hear Joshua droning on and on about how they didn’t have time to deal with you. He knew Josh didn’t like putting up with most things -- and with good reason -- and he knew the impatient wolf was going to make sure you fucked up. That definitely made Seungcheol’s job was easier, but he was still absolutely going to reprimand you as soon as he saw you.

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long to get to you. As soon as Seunngcheol spotted you, he ran ahead of Chan, skidding to a stop in front of you. Part of you wanted to even hide behind Joshua, but you knew that was probably even worse than just facing Seungcheol. Josh absolutely wouldn’t protect you from your mate when you deserved to be scolded.

“Are you crazy?!” Seungcheol demanded, his voice harsh despite the warm hug he pulled you into. “I told you not to leave that house!”

“Because thieves always follow the rules,” Josh deadpanned. “Can you lecture her after you get home? It’s not safe for her out here.”

You couldn’t tell if Joshua genuinely cared about your well being, or if he was using that as an excuse to get you away from him. Either way, Seungcheol was quick to drag you off with him, making sure to keep an arm around you just in case.

“Report back if anything changes,” he said over his shoulder.

You expected Seungcheol to start going off about listening and being safe and how worried he was, but he didn’t. He stayed silent as you walked back with him through the woods, but that was somehow even more terrifying than him saying anything.

“Shouldn’t we be going faster?” you wondered quietly just to break the tension.

“The pack that’s out here is aware you’re here now,” he explained, “so they’ll be sure to keep you safe above all else. Word travels fast in the pack, even split up like this. Our senses are sharp.”

So everybody probably heard Joshua yell at you. Wonderful.

“And we have Wonwoo in his wolf form so he can talk to Seokmin back at home so we always know what’s happening,” he continued.

So the entire pack knew you got in trouble. Even better.

You spent the rest of the walk in silence instead because now you were embarrassed that the pack knew you were in trouble. If you had gotten away with it like before, you’d feel pretty proud -- maybe a little badass, too. But no, you had gotten caught, and everybody knew about it.

By the time you had gotten back to the house, everybody was either asleep or averting their eyes as they sat in the living room. Seungcheol brought you up the stairs, though, and straight to his room. You knew there would probably be even more lecturing, but you had been thinking the whole way home on how to defend yourself.

As soon as Seungcheol closed the door behind you, he started with the scolding.

“I can’t believe you snuck out like that!” he exclaimed, sounding like an upset father more than anything. “You disobeyed me, you put yourself in danger, and you probably have Danbi and Soomin worried sick wondering where you went!”

You turned around and sat on his bed, letting out an exasperated sigh, “I’ve gone up against the hunters before and I was fine. In fact, I saved you -- and you thanked me!”

“But they were close to catching you, _____!” he reminded you sharply. “If they think that they have proof that there’s a pack of wolves out here, they’ll get more people to come looking. You won’t get away.”

“But--”

“But nothing! _____, you don’t even stop to think! You just do whatever you want!”

“Because I lo--”

You stopped before you could get the word out, but only because you had just realized what was about to come out of your mouth. You definitely didn’t plan to say that on the way over, but you just...wanted to say it. Did you mean it, though? Did you actually love Seungcheol?

Oh god, did you?

“You what?” Seungcheol asked, his voice softer now like he had an idea of what you were going to say -- and he did.

“I, um...” you gulped, looking down at your hands as they fidgeted in your lap. “I care about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, and if I feel like I can stop it, then I’ll try.”

He let out a deep sigh, walking over to you as he ran a hand through his dark hair, “I know. I know what it feels like to be in your position, but it’s better for both of us if you stay put. I won’t have to worry about you when I know you’re safe, which means I can focus on keeping my pack and myself safe.”

“Does that mean you’re sending me back to Soomin’s?” you mumbled.

“Well...no. It’s not safe for you in the woods, so I’d rather keep you here. If we get word that anybody’s nearby, I’ll have somebody get you out as quickly as possible.”

Seungcheol could see you brighten a bit at that, and smiled softly to himself.

“That works,” you decided.

“Just don’t go outside, and make sure somebody always knows where you are at all times,” he instructed.

“I’ll just hang out downstairs with you,” you shrugged.

“Well, I’ll have to go out at some point. We change shifts.”

You frowned. You had forgotten about that part. You didn’t want him going out there, but you knew you couldn’t tell him not to. He was the alpha, meaning he had to protect his pack. You were sure Soonyoung and Jihoon would have to go out their, too -- assuming they weren’t already out.

Seungcheol noticed the corners of your lips tug down and he lightly brushed your hair back, “You can stay with me until I take my shift, okay?”

“Well, it has to be okay because I can’t do anything else about it,” you grumbled.

He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, joking, “I wish you had that mindset in the first place.”

And while you did playfully roll your eyes, you both knew the other wasn’t happy with the situation. Truthfully, both of you were scared, but you also knew there wasn’t anything you could do to fix it. So you’d just bottle up your fear and stay by Seungcheol until he had to go, hoping he would return to you.

-

You really did do your best to stay awake, but you inevitably fell asleep on the couch. You were between Seungcheol and the arm of the couch, your body laying toward the arm with your own arms acting as a pillow for your head.

Seungcheol was actually happier you were sleeping. It was late, and you definitely needed the rest. He was pretty sure you hadn’t even slept before leaving Soomin’s.

However, it was while you were sleeping that a few of the pack came in to switch their shifts. The two alphas came in, along with Joshua and Seungkwan. Because the two alphas were going to rest, that meant Seungcheol had to be out.

“We caught wind of something,” Jihoon reported. “Three hunters were in the area. Chan’s tracking them now.”

“How far away?” Jeonghan asked.

“A couple miles southeast, I think. We think they’re looking for where that other wolf killed the hunter.”

“If they find it, they’ll be dangerously close,” Josh commented.

“Then we should get going,” Seungcheol nodded. “Everybody go to their posts, and I’ll go catch up with Chan.”

“You should take some backup,” Jihoon advised.

“I can help from home,” Soonyoung smirked.

“Maybe have Hao go,” Jihoon suggested, nodding toward the younger wolf. “He can use my power.”

Seungcheol nodded, “But everybody else stays to watch the perimeter and the house. I don’t want anybody getting in here. Let’s move quickly.”

“Are you going to wake _____ up?” Soonyoung wondered as Seungcheol stood up carefully as to not jostle you too much.

He let out a soft sigh, looking down at your sleeping form. Part of him wanted to tell you he was leaving because he knew if he’d even make it home later -- especially now that they knew hunters were out there looking for them.

But the last thing he’d want to do is worry you, or wake you up when you needed the rest.

“No,” he murmured. “Let her sleep.”

“But what if...” Joshua trailed off. He had been in a similar situation, and while he didn’t want to say ‘what if you don’t make it back’, he was worried the alpha wouldn’t get to say what he wanted to say to you.

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol reassured him. “For her, it’s better if I don’t say too much or be too suffocating. Everything she needs to know, she knows.”

Joshua only nodded.

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol said, staring at the youngest alpha, “you already know you’re in charge. But everybody, if anything happens--”

“She’s first priority,” Seungkwan nodded.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Jihoon promised.

He leaned down, placing a hand on the back of the couch to steady himself as he got closer to you. His lips pressed softly against your forehead, lingering there for just a moment. Quietly, he whispered, “I love you,” before he left with the members of his pack.

-

“Go back to sleep,” a soft voice told you as you stirred, your eyes peeking open.

But you were too uncomfortable curled up on the couch, so you sat up and stretched out your limbs, yawning. You started to remember why you were on the couch and what the current situation was, and you looked around when you noticed Seungcheol wasn’t around.

“Where’s Seungcheol?” you wondered.

The wolf that had been talking to you was Jihoon. After Seungcheol left, he had sat on the couch with you so he would know 100% that you were okay. On the other couch sat Soonyoung, who was now completely passed out. He stretched himself too far to keep up with the three wolves tracking the hunters, and had to give up and rest. That meant they no longer had any idea how things were going with them.

Jihoon pursed his lips before saying, “You know where he is.”

Seungcheol had left. According to Jihoon, it had been three hours. None of them sensed anything was wrong, though, which was sort of reassuring. But it didn’t mean something bad couldn’t happen.

“We can only sense these things with the alphas, though,” Jihoon explained to you. “If something bad happens to Seungcheol or Soonyoung or myself, the pack will just feel it. But if something bad were to happen to Chan for instance, none of us would know.”

You weren’t sure if he was trying to make you feel better or just teaching you. But still, no matter what he said, you only thought about Seungcheol. Was he okay? Were you ever going to see him again? You realized just how much you really cared about Seungcheol when it hit you that you could possibly never see him again. But then you just felt guilty for the way you’d treated him, and you should feel guilty! You treated him awfully by pushing him away, and still holding back when you were warming up to him. Why didn’t you just let him love you completely? Because truthfully, you did love Seungcheol. You just wouldn’t admit it to yourself, let alone anyone else.

It wasn’t until you watched the werewolves perk up and strain their ears that your heart started racing, and you stood up to follow Jihoon as he went straight for the door. But he still didn’t smile. Nobody in the pack looked happy despite hearing movement.

“What is it?” you wondered.

“Go back to the living room,” Jihoon ordered quietly. He wasn’t positive who it was yet, so he wanted to play it safe. “Wake up Soonyoung and stay by him.”

You did as you were told as Jihoon stood by the door, waiting to see if he sensed anybody familiar. But you already knew who it was by the way Soonyoung reacted when he realized.

“It’s the pack,” he chuckled, his tense body relaxing. “Wonder if they’ll have any updates, though. Can’t let our guard down until we’re positive we’re safe.”

Jihoon had opened the door and went out to meet the others, making sure to close it behind him just in case. You weren’t sure how much time had passed until the door opened again, and the boys -- and one wolf -- entered the living room.

Your eyes scanned each person one-by-one. You watched as members of the pack came in with tired eyes and messy hair. Hansol, Mingyu, Junhui -- you were glad everybody in the pack were all safe, but you couldn’t focus on that because you suddenly sensed his presence.

Seungcheol.

You looked over to the doorway, seeing his expression exhausted, his hair a mess, and a little bit of dirk on his skin. He immediately locked eyes with you, and his hard expression softened. His arms opened as he rushed over to you, and you threw yourself into his arms with such a force that he wasn’t expecting, that he almost fell backwards into Minghao.

You didn’t realize you had started crying until Seungcheol was stroking your hair, and shushing you. You could feel the vibrations from his chest, his inner wolf overjoyed to see you and hold you safely in his arms. He was sure you’d be safe with the pack, but it was still good to really know you were okay and you were with him.

“I-I thought…” you stopped, hiccuping a sob, “I th-thought something b-bad might’ve happened.”

“No, _____, I’m right here,” he assured you, pressing a warm kiss to the top of your head with a soft smile. “Don’t cry, everything’s okay.”

“Is everything okay?” Jihoon asked.

Seungcheol looked around you to his pack, nodding, “They thought _____ was a female wolf with how fast and agile she was. Her leading them to that other town actually made them think that’s where our pack is located. We won’t have to worry about them, I’m sure of it.”

You sniffed, trying to collect yourself, laughing a little bit, “God, I’m blubbering like an idiot! I-I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Not as glad as I am to be able to come back to you,” he chuckled.

Your next words passed your lips as if it was a reflex. You didn’t even have to think about it, but you didn’t take them back, either. They were muffled by his chest, but he heard them loud and clear.

“I love you, Seungcheol.”

He purred so loudly you could feel it in your own chest, and it only made you tighten your hold around his waist.

He buried his face in your hair, hiding the widest grin he’d ever worn, “I love you, my _____.”

[winchestermotel]

The Road We Take

Chapter 1

Pairing : Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader x Sam

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, loss of a loved, all kinds of kinky sex and stuff(we’ll see where it goes), nsfw, 18+, slow burn(hopefully)

WC: 2464

Summary: Y/N is a hunter who has just lost a father figure. Sunny took her in when her family died tragically and raised her. She grew up listening to Sunny go on and on about how good Sam and Dean were as hunters and as people, but she personally never met them. The only Winchester she met was John and she didn’t like him at all. Now she invites all hunters on Sunny’s contact list for his Wake. She can’t wait to meet the Winchester Brothers. Their meeting isn’t ideal, but it marks the beginning of a new chapter in Y/N’s life but where does this road lead to?

Assume all warnings apply to all chapters. Chapters will be individually warned as well.

A/N: Hi. This is my first fan fic ever so if you’re reading this THANK YOU but also, I would appreciate if you could leave some constructive criticism and comments on how you would like the story to progress. If you like it, share it with your friends as well😊

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Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester. You had grown up hearing these names. Best damn hunters in the world. You couldn’t wait to meet them only because Sunny seemed to have loved them. Sunny used to hunt with their dad, John. Well, Sunny taught John how to hunt, how to fight and generally how to hold his own and Sunny introduced Bobby to John as well. It was almost weird you and the Winchester Boys still hadn’t met or chanced upon each other until now, until Sunny’s wake. The Winchester Brothers were going to be your closest relation at the wake, and you didn’t even know what they looked like.

The pain struck again when you remembered. In all fairness, you had not forgotten, you were trying hard not to think. All alone in this ramshackle house in the middle of a forest. The once maroon wallpaper, covered in decades of dust, blood splatter and sigils coming of the walls had turned brown. The green fungus on the walls was slowly creeping towards the ceiling. Neither Sunny nor you stayed here long enough in between hunts to care much for housekeeping. If anyone thought the living room looked bad, they would faint if they saw the basement. The place you occasionally held down demons, witches, vamps, werewolves, sometimes gods or any manner of monster that needed some extra persuasion to talk. The 3 bedrooms were in no better condition however the kitchen was spotless. Sunny kept all work, killings and rituals out of the kitchen. It didn’t even look like a part of the house, but your favorite place was the rooftop.

The house didn’t have another floor, the rooftop wasn’t high enough for a very nice view, but it did look over the forest. You and Sunny had set up some lights and kept a  small fridge and two very old recliners. The nights you both were back home this was where you both would spend most of the time but none of it really seemed to matter now because you felt all alone haunted by your own memories and now that he was gone everything in the house was screaming for attention. Everything reminded you of the man that took you in and raised you.

You had sent out messages to every hunter on all of Sunny’s phones, but you didn’t reply to anyone. Building his pyre, burning his body had left you exhausted both physically as well as mentally. You were hardly 5’0 but had built strength and stamina from years of hunting. At 25 you still had a decade worth of experience in hunting. You had made the arrangement for the wake which was mostly just booze, bacon and burgers. Now it was time for the hunters to show up.

The clock strikes 3pm and the hunters start showing up. One after the other. In half an hour, there was hardly any space to set foot. You didn’t imagine so many would turn up. When 6 more hunters turned up you were certain you would run out of beer. The hunters all made themselves at home. You kept making small talk. Everybody apologized, everybody had stories to tell you about him. After a while you wanted the beer to run out, so you had a reason to get out of the house for a second and breath. Couple hours passed and the general topic was way past Sunny. Some had passed out from drinking, some were still playing a drinking game, others were telling jokes or catching up after years of not seeing each other. You had to replenish the beer supply twice now, not that you minded but it was only 7pm.

The noise suddenly was too much, the smells were to potent, so you ran outside. You didn’t get far before you tripped and fell just a few yards away from the front door.  You looked up at the stars and tears rolled down on your cheeks.

“Why did you leave me? Why did you have to push me to the side? Nobody would’ve cared if the werewolf ate my heart but look at all of these people. They love you. Why didn’t you let me save you , you bastard? You screamed into the nothingness.

You sat there as tears rolled down your cheeks when you heard a roar an engine nearing you. As you look up, you’re blinded by bright headlights. The car comes nearer and nearer. You’re not sure the driver can see you, but you don’t move. You’re not sure you want to. The car stops right in front of you and the lights turn of. Because you had been starring right into the bright lights, now you can’t see anything, but you hear two doors creak open and you hear an angry man walking up to you.

“What the hell are you doing, lady? Tryin’a get yourself killed here?” you hear him speak as he comes closer to you.

“Dean wait….” You hear another voice. This one’s a little calmer.

The lights have somehow sent you into a trance because you can’t move. Every muscle feels a lot heavier. You look up to see two giant men towering over you.

“Oh…I..um..’’ you hear the angry man’s fury fade away as he looks at you.

“Here, let me help you up.’’ The other one offers you a hand.

You take his hand and stand up.

“Woah….’’ Is all that you can muster.

You were always the short one but these two were huge and because you were standing so close, you could hardly see their faces. Maybe you were tired from the day or drained from the crying, you lost your footing for a second and stumbled backwards when you pushed your head back to get a good look them.

“Oh hey, careful sweetheart. Are you alight?’’ He stepped forward almost immediately to help you, but you had already stabilized and nodded.

“My name’s Dean. This is my brother, Sam. We’re John Winchester’s sons. We’re here for Sunny’s wake.’’

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name’s Y/N. Please go inside. Make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a minute.’’ You said monotonously.

“You’re y/n? Sunny’s kid? Sam asked and when you nodded, he immediately hugged you.

You didn’t know whether it was nobody had hugged you or was it because he called you ‘Sunny’s kid’ you started crying again into his chest and his grip tightened.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. Let it out. I’ve got you.’’ Sam almost whispered as he attempted to calm you down.

You step away and wipe your tears away and barely nodded to say thank you.

“ You alright?’’ Dean inquired.

“Yeah. I needed that I think. Come inside. Please.’’ You reply in a quiet and embarrassed voice as you turn around to lead the way.

‘They probably think you’re a stupid cry baby now. Quite the first impression.’ You think to yourself.

The second you open the door; every head in the room turned towards you.

“The Winchesters are hear!’’ somebody yells.

You think a fight is about to break out but in a matter of seconds you realize it’s more of celebration because everybody cheers them on as they step inside behind you. You’re not comfortable with the whole situation.

“This is about Sunny. This about remembering him. This is NOT about your petty little drinking games or playing catch up.’’ You yelled as you opened a door that revealed a staircase behind the living room and went up.

It wasn’t a very cold night but the thought of Sunny never being up on the roof top made you shiver.

“Mind if I join you?’’

You turned around and saw Dean walking towards you.

“Hey….’’ Is a you can muster.

“ I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay because I know you ain’t doing so well. Beer?’’ he offered

“I’ll pass. And yeah not doing so well. The guy who was the closest thing I had to a father died 3 days ago, saving me from a werewolf. I had to build his pyre, burn his body and now I have to look at his friends having the time of their lives in his house. So, you’re right, I’m not okay!’’ you almost yell at him.

“Hey. Look. I’ve lost my fair share of family. Hell, other than Sammy I’ve lost everyone I loved. I even lost him a couple of times, but life doesn’t stop. I know it’s hard right now and it never get easy, but you move on. So, we keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you got to keep grinding. And that's how we keep fighting.’’ Dean replies in a firm tone.

“Dean….he was all I had. He gave me this life. There’s nothing else I have. After my family, he took me in. Now that he’s gone I…...’’ You break down in tears again.

You feel Dean wrap his arms around you. There’s a comfort in his hug but somehow the tears don’t stop.

‘yeah, now they’ll definitely think I’m just another emotional bitch’ you think to yourself. ‘Awesome way to embarrass yourself!’

“ It is okay. You have me and Sam now. It’s what Bobby and Sunny would have wanted. You got us now. You ain’t gonna be alone ever.’’ He soothed. His hand rubbed your back.

Without breaking out of his embrace, you looked up into his eyes. They were green. He was very tall as well but not as tall as his brother. The freckles scattered over his face added to his persona. He was a very handsome man. You could see hints of his father in his face. High cheek bones, the green eyes, the way he talked had the ghost of his father.

“Do I have something on my face?’’ he smirked.

“No….you’re….’’ You weren’t sure whether you wanted to tell him what you really thought.

“ I know I’m adorable.’’ He stepped back and you could swear he pouted

“Someone’s cocky!’’ you smirked.

“Y/n, the people downstairs meant a lot to Sunny and us hunters, we’re messed up. But the fact that they dropped everything and drove here from all over the country to be here is the most they can do to show they cared. You need to get yourself together, go down and raise a toast to Sunny. Now they’ll be leaving soon but Sammy and I’ll stick around for the night…..if you want.’’ He tried not to make it sound like an order.

You turned away and looked up at the sky. You closed your eyes and thought about Sunny and a tear rolled down your eye. Taking a deep breath, you turned back around, wiped the tear and nodded.

Dean leads the way and you follow. When the other hunters see you coming down everybody is silent. The remnants of the emotional breakdown you had earlier still lingers in the air. Once in the living room, you can feel all eyes on you.

“I’d first like you apologize for whatever I said. I know what I said was wrong. You all are…..were as much a part of Sunny’s life as much as I was’’ You begin. “So many of you knew him as a friend, a buddy, a leader. He was a kind, loving man even though he would never admit it, he loved every single person in this room. I mean look at me. He took me in when he didn’t have to. The case was dealt with. He had no business sticking around but he did. Took me in when everybody refused to take me in. Hell, he died saving me and he knew nothing would survive that fall but he jumped at the werewolf, gave me an open shot and fell over the cliff.’’

You paused for a second trying to keep that ball that just formed in your throat from chocking you and your crowd cheers you on. They could feel your pain, but their cheer gave you strength to continue.

You continued  “ Sunny died doing what he loved and there was no other way he wanted to go out. A couple days ago I gave him a hunter’s sendoff because he deserved nothing less. Sunny was tough, strong and stubborn as hell. The man did know how to cook though. He loved to cook. But his legacy will live in on all the lives he touched, the lives he saved and the love he gave to the people he cared about.’’ You raise your beer  “To Sunny!’’

“ To Sunny!” everybody repeats unanimously.

After that things did become easier. You wanted to thank Dean, but you couldn’t see him or Sam. You moved around, talked to everybody else. Now you wanted to talk to them, you wanted to listen to what they had to tell you. Everybody appreciated the toast you raised to Sunny. You even spotted a damp eye or two, but you knew they would never admit it.

The crowd around you started thinning as the hunters started to leave. Soon, you were all alone again. Seeing off the last hunter you went outside. The black beast that you nearly let run over you was still parked there.

They’re still here. But where are they??

“Y/N up here!” you heard Sam’s voice.

You turned around and looked up. Sam and Dean were on the roof.

“ Come up sweetheart. Have a beer with us.’’ Dean smiled at you.

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Fact #56 - Arthur and Gorlagon, pt 2

Wow, that last post was a hit, huh?

Here’s the riveting conclusion to Part 1, which you can find here.

And, as before, this is the translation from which I will be drawing quotes. Let’s get to it and see how this story ends!

I want to warn you THIS IS A REALLY BIG POST. So read the rest of this story under the cut - because otherwise this post will eat up my blog the moment I post it!

By the way? This is a GREAT werewolf story if you want to see a classic folkloric example of just how badass werewolves are really meant to be (and also get to see them using their paws as hands - or does he have clawed, hairy hands, as is implied by one particular passage where he takes a baby into his arms? who knows? - and breaking chains and generally being frelling awesome).

Here we go...

Well, we left off with our werewolf king ravaging the countryside, and then came a young king to hunt the beast and slay it. Our werewolf is not a fool, though, and this is yet another reminder that werewolves retain their human intelligence...

So one night when the wolf had gone to a neighbouring village, greedy for bloodshed, and was standing under the eaves of a certain house listening intently to a conversation that was going on within, it happened that he heard the man nearest him tell how the King had proposed to seek and track him down on the following day

The werewolf returned to the woods and wondered what to do. He didn’t really want to be killed by this hotshot king and his entourage of hunters. So when the king and his hounds and hunters arrived at the forest, the werewolf hid and waited for everyone to go by (hounds got nothin’ on him, good luck finding a werewolf)...

He waited until the king approached. And then he, in the spirit of Bisclavret... and I’m going to quote this entire section because I love it, so here we go--

he saw the King approaching (for he judged from his countenance that it was the King) he dropped his head and ran close after him, and encircling the King's right foot with his paws he would have licked him affectionately like a suppliant asking for pardon, with such groanings as he was capable of.

Then two noblemen who were guarding the King's person, seeing this enormous wolf (for they had never seen any of so vast a size), cried out, "Master, see here is the wolf we seek! see, here is the wolf we seek! strike him, slay him, do not let the hateful beast attack us!"

The wolf, utterly fearless of their cries, followed close after the King, and kept licking him gently. The King was wonderfully moved, and after looking at the wolf for some time and perceiving that there was no fierceness in him, but that he was rather like one who craved for pardon, was much astonished, and commanded that none of his men should dare to inflict any harm on him, declaring- that he had detected some signs of human understanding in him; so putting down his right hand to caress the wolf he gently stroked his head and scratched his ears.

Groanings, not barking. These people knew what a wolf actually sounds like. If It was a modern story, I bet they’d have said he barked... Anyway.

Then the werewolf went home with the king! He even rode on a horse. So with his new werewolf friend, the king ordered everyone home. But he didn’t get very far before a great stag appeared. Wanting to test “his wolf” and see if it would obey him, the king ordered the werewolf to go after the stag. The werewolf caught and killed it instantly.

So the king said,

"Of a truth you must be kept alive and not killed, seeing that you know how to show such service to us."

And here, yet again, we get another small interruption of Gorlagon beseeching King Arthur to eat. And again, Arthur stays true to his word and refuses. Gorlagon then resumes the story...

So the wolf remained with the King, and was held in very great affection by him. Whatever the King commanded him he performed, and he never showed any fierceness towards or inflicted any hurt upon any one. He daily stood at table before the King at dinner time with his forepaws erect, eating of his bread and drinking from the same cup. Wherever the King went he accompanied him, so that even at night he would not go to rest anywhere save beside his master's couch.

However, we come to the twist in the story...

The king had to go away for a long time, so he left “his wolf”/the werewolf with the queen. But this queen hated the wolf and told the king that she was afraid of the wolf, saying he might attack her in the night. To which the king said,

"Have no fear of that, for I have detected no such symptom in him all the long time he has been with me. However, if you have any doubt of it, I will have a chain made and will have him fastened up to my bed-ladder." So the King gave orders that a chain of gold should be made, and when the wolf had been fastened up by it to the steps, he hastened away to the business he had on hand.

And here again we are interrupted for Gorlagon to ask Arthur to dismount and eat - which he still refuses to do. So back to the story...

The king left, the werewolf remained chained up, and the queen didn’t care for him as she should have. The king ordered that he be chained up at night only, but she kept him chained constantly. And then she did something, uh, not great - she cheated on the king.

In fact, she cheated on the king with a guy in that exact bedchamber that the werewolf was in. Can you imagine - this poor werewolf. Well, he didn’t like that much...

And when the wolf saw them rushing into each other's impious embraces he blazed forth with fury, his eyes reddening, and the hair on his neck standing up, and he began to make as though he would attack them, but was held back by the chain by which he was fastened. And when he saw they had no intention of desisting from the iniquity on which they had embarked, he gnashed his teeth, and dug up the ground with his paws, and venting his rage over all his body, with awful howls he stretched the chain with such violence that it snapped in two.

When loose he rushed with fury upon the sewer [the lover] and threw him from the bed, and tore him so savagely that he left him half-dead. But to the Queen he did no harm at all, but only gazed upon her with venom in his eye. Hearing the mournful groans of the sewer, the servants tore the door from its hinges and rushed in. When asked the cause of all the tumult, that cunning Queen concocted a lying story, and told the servants that the wolf had devoured her son, and had torn the sewer as they saw while he was attempting to rescue the little one from death, and that he would have treated her in the same way had they not arrived in time to succour her. So the sewer was brought half dead to the guest-chamber. But the Queen fearing that the King might somehow discover the truth of the matter, and considering how she might take her revenge on the wolf, shut up the child, whom she had represented as having been devoured by the wolf, along with his nurse in an underground room far removed from any access; every one being under the impression that he had in fact been devoured.

Werewolf stories are so cool, you guys. I love werewolves. Have I ever mentioned that? I bet I haven’t.

And now again Gorlagon tries to get Arthur to eat something - and Arthur refuses. Thus the story is resumed.

The moment the king returned, the queen dressed herself up in blood and torn-up clothes and cut her hair short to pretend she’d been mauled by the werewolf, and she rushed to the king beseeching him to do something about it - and telling him that the werewolf had devoured their infant son. However, the werewolf heard all this and ran out of the bedchamber and into the king’s embraces--

jumping about joyfully, and gambolling with greater delight than he [the wolf] had ever done before. At this the King, distracted by contending emotions, was in doubt what he should do, on the one hand reflecting that his wife would not tell him an untruth, on the other that if the wolf had been guilty of so great a crime against him he would undoubtedly not have dared to meet him with such joyful bounds.

Happy werewolf!

Anyway, the werewolf invites the king to follow him...

the wolf sitting close by him touched his foot gently with his paw, and took the border of his cloak into his mouth, and by a movement of the head invited him to follow him. The King, who understood the wolf's customary signals, got up and followed him through the different bedchambers to the underground room where the boy was hidden away. And finding the door bolted the wolf knocked three or four times with his paw, as much as to ask that it might be opened to him.

The werewolf knows where the queen hid the son. Well, when he can’t get inside, he just busts the door down - “the wolf, unable to endure the delay, drew back a little, and spreading out the claws of his four paws he rushed headlong at the door, and driving it in, threw it down upon the middle of the floor broken and shattered.” - because you can’t expect a silly door to hold back a werewolf.

And then he picks the child up - “Then running forward he took the infant from its cradle in his shaggy arms, and gently held it up to the King's face for a kiss.”

This is such a great werewolf story, lemme tell you - noble werewolf bowing and asking for mercy, werewolf breaking golden chains, busting down doors, using his paws as hands, cradling infants in their shaggy arms-- my goodness, I’m swooning over this werewolf, here. This werewolf is the best werewolf.

So the king goes to the sewer (the lover) and talks to him about it, the werewolf wanting to tear the guy’s face off (again) the entire time. Eventually, the sewer confesses to his crimes.

And... thus follows very graphic descriptions of how the queen and the sewer both were put to death because this young king was a real fiery dude. So anyway, now they’re dead.

And now again Gorlagon asks Arthur to eat... and again Arthur refuses. He’s holding fast here. Haha. Get it? Holding fast, because he’s fasting. Anyway...

After that, this king really began to wonder about this incredible werewolf with all his intelligence and nobility. He asked his wise men what they all thought about the situation, and he tells them that he couldn’t possibly be a beast. When he says this, the werewolf gets very excited and licks the king’s hands and does everything he can to gesture that the king is telling the truth.

The king catches on, and he declares that he well and truly wants to restore this wolf to his human form, “’even at the cost of my worldly substance; nay, even at the very risk of my life.’” What a bro, this king, after all the werewolf has done for him.

So he lets the werewolf go and will follow him wherever he leads, hoping the werewolf can lead him to the source of this curse and the king can help him find a cure. He immediately went to the ocean and indicated he wanted to cross - so this king launched an entire fleet and took the werewolf across the ocean, back toward his own land.

And yet again, Gorlagon tries to get Arthur to eat. Arthur refuses.

At last, they land in the werewolf’s kingdom. There, the werewolf signals them “by his customary nod and gesture” that this was his country. The king sets off with an army - and the moment they arrive in a town, the king realizes that this particular land is under very cruel and tyrannical rule by an evil king. And somebody nearby, too, was helpfully “lamenting their master, who by the craft and subtilty [sic] of his wife had been changed into a wolf, remembering what a kind and gentle master he was.”

So now we draw to the close pretty quickly here - the king finds out the truth and attacks this kingdom very suddenly, conquers the place, and captures both this king and the queen and makes them his subjects.

Woo! Victory for him! He’s getting a lot of good stuff out of this, this king.

AGAIN Gorlagon tells Arthur to eat, and Arthur gets pretty annoyed: “You are like a harper who almost before he has finished playing the music of a song, keeps on repeatedly interposing the concluding passages without anyone singing to his accompaniment.“

So Gorlagon finishes the bloody story at long last. He tells of how the king ordered this evil queen to undo the wrong she’d done to her werewolf husband. After, you know, torturing her with all kinds of horrible things and getting a confession out of her.

Until, finally, she gives the king the sapling that started all this mess. The king then undoes the werewolf curse-

The wolf became a man as he had been before, though far more beautiful and comely, being now possessed of such grace that one could at once detect that he was a man of great nobility.

The king and the werewolf have all the best bro-hugs and the king gives the werewolf back his kingdom. Then the king yote back to his own place and they all lived happily ever after!

There’s some more, too, like how Gorlagon was actually the werewolf all along. And how he hated his ex so very, very badly that he literally kept her around and made her kiss the severed and embalmed head of her lover every time Gorlagon kisses his new wife.

Yeah. Wow. Harsh, huh? I’ve heard things about people and their exes, but... yeesh.

When I became a wolf it is evident that the kingdom to which I first went was that of my middle brother, King Gorleil. And the King who took such great pains to care for me you can have no doubt was my youngest brother, King Gargol, to whom you came in the first instance.

So now we know why there were three kings in the story, even if I skipped over the first two to get to the fun werewolf stuff!

And then Arthur FINALLY dismounts and has something to eat, at Gorlagon’s beseeching, with Gorlagon and his new wife.

The end! Wild, huh?

But we can’t deny that the werewolf in this story, Gorlagon himself, is freaking awesome.

(If you like my werewolf blog, be sure to check out my other stuff! And consider supporting me on Patreon. Every little bit helps and helps me run this blog, and you get goodies and a chance to vote on the topic of the next werewolf fact!

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[werewolfdays]

Prompt 12 ? 👉👈

12. Waiting for the other one to come home, falling asleep and waking up to the other person gently waking them up

After the compound fracture was set and stitched closed, I carefully wrapped the forearm up in sterilized gauze, then prepared a temporary splint. A cast would have been preferable, but I knew it would heal too quickly for that to be fully necessary. Still, the recovery process would rely mostly on the patient to be cautious with his wound. 

I made the last adjustments to his splint, set him up in an arm sling, and stepped back to begin cleaning up my work station, “There you go, all done.” 

Jeremy, the werewolf I was treating after his car accident involving hunters, finally let his shoulders and expression relax, and he hopped off the medical bed, “Awesome.” 

“Please be careful with it,” I told him earnestly, “Try not to use that arm for at least a week. And come back in if there’s any issues.” 

“Will do, Nadya.” He said with a genuine smile, “Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” I replied, patting his shoulder, and he was on his way. 

Once I gathered all the waste to dispose of and disinfected everything, I went to my desk to mark Jeremy down in my patient log. As I was doing that, my phone lit up, catching my attention out of the corner of my eye. There was a missed call from Jayde and I scribbled down the information faster, making it barely legible, so I could call her back immediately. It barely rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey.” Jayde greeted softly through the phone. 

“Hi, Jay.” I replied through a relieved sigh at the sound of her voice, “Sorry I missed your first call.” 

“It’s okay. Hard at work?” She guessed knowingly. 

“I’d say so.” My eyes gave the chart on the desk a onceover, “Compound fracture, some gunshot wounds, and a couple stabbings today.” 

She made a displeased grumble that was slightly growl-like, “Yeah, these hunters hit hard, but they’re taken care of. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be heading home soon.” 

The rest of my anxious tension left my body at that, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

The urge to laugh at that caused the corner of my mouth to twitch up, “I always worry about you.” 

“I know,” She said, sounding almost regretful, “But I promise I’m good.” 

I chewed on my bottom lip, wanting her to be here so I could confirm that for myself, “When will you be home?” 

“Probably not until really late tonight. We have to do some followup and mislead any potential tails we have,” Jayde explained, “So don’t wait for me. Get some sleep. You’ll see me when you wake up.” 

I tried not to be too disappointed that she wouldn’t be here sooner, but I understood why and nodded, “Okay.”

“I will be home soon, Nadya.” She reassured, sensing my mood, even through the phone. 

“I know, Jay, I know.” I said through a sigh, “I just need you safe and by my side.” 

“I will be before you know it.” 

I stood up a little straighter at her promise, “Yeah, you’re right. Be careful, okay? Come back to me in one piece.” 

Jayde chuckled lightly, “Sure thing. I love you.” 

My smile grew big enough that I knew she’d be able to hear it in my voice, “I love you too.” 

With that, she hung up. I set my phone back down on the desk, stewing in our conversation and the relief of hearing she was okay for a handful of prolonged moments before I shook myself out of it and went back to work. 

I knew as soon as Jayde told me to get some sleep I wouldn’t want to. My day was long and stressful, I worked hard to treat the people that needed it, and I could feel exhaustion start to seep into my bones, but I didn’t want to go to bed until I knew Jayde was home safe. I needed to at least see her in order to get a restful night’s sleep, so I resorted to studying until she got back, even if that meant staying awake all night. 

My plan started off great. After dinner, I grabbed some coffee and went to our room to set up the desk for a study session. I was making really good progress throughout the evening, becoming utterly immersed in my school work, and barely noticing the hours fly by. That is, until I yawned. The simple action suddenly tore my attention away from my notes and to the clock where I saw that it was just after two in the morning. That realization made my exhausted body finally catch up with my brain in a collision hard enough to make me sink in my chair.  

For the next half hour, I propped my elbow up on the surface of the desk and rested my head on my hand while I continued. My eyes grew heavier and heavier. It got to the point that I was having to reread sentences more than once. More than twice or even three times. I looked at the clock again and figured it couldn’t hurt to rest my eyes for a little while and recharge. 

“Ten minutes.” I mumbled to myself as I put my glasses aside and crossed my arms underneath my head. 

It only felt like a few minutes had gone by before someone was gently shaking my shoulder and whispering my name quietly, “Nadya, hey.” 

My eyes blinked back open to look for the culprit. Just as I was about to mutter an annoyed retort, her beautiful dark blue irises came into my vision with a stunning smile to match them. I went from drowsy to wide awake in a second flat when I realized it was Jayde. 

“Jay.” I said her name as my own smile grew into a beaming grin. I basically jumped up out of my seat and threw myself into her arms, clinging to her in a fierce embrace. Then I realized I must have accidentally fallen into a deep sleep instead of indulging in a quick break because my whole body was sore from being slumped over my desk, but that didn’t matter now that she was home. 

Jayde chuckled against my ear, holding me just as tightly as I was holding her, “Yeah, I missed you too.” 

We stayed like that for about a minute and then I pulled back to cup her face in my hands, tilting her head from side to side to assess any damage done to her. The bruises she sustained were already mostly faded and the scrapes I saw had scabbed over in the hours of healing they’d been given. I was proud to see her face was clean, which meant she had taken care of the scrapes despite their lack of severity. Then I directed my inspection down to the rest of her body. Her clothes covered most of her skin up, but I didn’t see any bloodstains to suggest that she had been shot or stabbed anywhere on her midsection. 

“What, you didn’t believe me when I told you I was fine?” Jayde asked in amusement.

I threw her a lighthearted glare, “Your definition of ‘fine’ seems to differ from mine when it comes to your physical condition.” 

“I’m alive and upright, aren’t I?” She teased with a crooked grin. When my eyes narrowed, hers rolled, and she said, “Okay, here, I’ll save you the time.” 

Jayde presented her leg to me. It would have been easy to miss, any blood that seeped into her jeans was lost in the blackness of the fabric, but there was a new rip in the thigh. Small and nothing too noteworthy apart from the glimpse of a blood-soaked bandage hidden underneath it. The size and shape of the rip was unmistakable as a bullet hole. She had been shot in the leg, most likely with a silver bullet.  

“Jayde.” I scolded in worry and disappointment, grabbing my glasses and kneeling down to try and get a better look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Before you get too mad,” Her hand came down to tuck some of my hair behind my ear, “It’s already been taken care of. I got the bullet out with tweezers, disinfected it, stitched it, and wrapped it up. Just like you would have done.” 

I stared up at her with my brows furrowed in suspicion, “Were the tweezers sterilized?” 

“Yes.” 

“You used actual disinfectant and not booze?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you put antibiotic cream on it?”

“Of course.”

I slowly stood back up, placing my hands on my hips, and raised an eyebrow, “What knot did you use when you stitched it?”

Jayde mimicked my stance, “A surgeon’s knot.” 

We were locked in a staring contest for several tense moments until I broke the silence, “I’m still mad that you lied to me.” 

“I didn’t lie to you, I am okay.” The back of her finger brushed against my cheek to pacify me. 

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from my face, “For future reference, when I ask if you’re okay, I’m asking if you’ve been hurt at all. At all.” 

A flicker of guilt came across her face, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry.” 

“But you wanted me to see you with a surprise gunshot wound when you got home.” I pointed out. 

Jayde’s face fell and her expression made my chest tighten. I knew she didn’t do it to hurt me, but she needed to understand how important it was for me to know about things like this. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she had to hide her pain to protect me.

My finger went under her chin, where I urged her to look up at me. Once her eyes met mine, I gave her a small smile, releasing her wrist and cupping the back of her neck to pull her in. I made sure to translate my feelings through the gentle cadence I lead, using every soft stroke of my lips to tell her it was okay. I wasn’t mad anymore. Neither was I disappointed. I just wanted to convey how much I cared about her. How much I loved her and wanted her to feel comfortable with sharing anything with me. Even her pain. 

Jayde seemed unsure at first, but then she melted into me, her hands tentatively going to my waist. I kissed her deeper for a few beats in encouragement, my heart singing when she pulled me even closer against her. Neither of us tried for anything more, we simply indulged in this silent and soft conversation of reassurance, our uneven breaths being the only sound that disrupted the space between us. 

We eventually pulled away from the kiss, foreheads resting together, and I took the time that the lingering quiet gave me to trace her bottom lip with my thumb. Jayde released a gentle sigh at the touch, her fingers clutching at my shirt to feel me through the clothing. 

“Just tell me from now on, okay?” I requested gently, “I wanna know. Even if it’s just bruises.” 

“Okay,” Jayde agreed with a whisper, “I can do that.” 

I kissed her one more time before pulling back to look at her. It was then that I saw just how tired she was. And felt just how tired I was too. “It’s pretty late.” 

She hummed in agreement, then a sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. I didn’t get a chance to make a remark about it because she suddenly, and effortlessly, scooped me up in her arms. A surprised squeak came out of me, but it soon turned into an amused giggle once she twirled us around and carried me to my side of the bed. Now that I was aware of it, I did note a slight limp in her walk, but the injury didn’t seem to bother her otherwise. 

I was plopped down on the mattress somewhat unceremoniously and kissed on the top of my head, then I watched as Jayde got herself ready to sleep. Her jeans were replaced by shorts, which allowed me a better view of the bandage on her thigh. The spot of dried blood wasn’t as big as I feared it was, reassuring me further of her condition, but I still itched to examine it myself. 

“Wait,” My hands went to her hips to stop her before she crawled into bed, “Can I have a look?”

Jayde nodded. 

At her consent I directed my attention down to her leg and carefully peeled the bandage back to look at the work she did. The stitches appeared to be done correctly and it was clean and tidy. There were no signs of infection. The slightly gray off color around the wound was typical for a silver bullet, but I still looked up and asked, “Was it silver?” 

She nodded again, “Yeah, but I got it out quickly. It wasn’t too bad.”

My thumb brushed her skin by the gunshot wound soothingly, both to reassure her and myself that she was okay. Then I put the bandage back into place and nodded my approval. “You did a good job. I’m proud.” 

“Yeah?” She asked with a growing grin. 

“Yeah.” I confirmed with my own smile. 

Jayde happily pushed me back down on the mattress and fell on top of me, her arms wrapping around my waist and holding me tightly to her. My grin was wide and my laugh light as I wrapped my arms around the back of her neck to pull her even closer until she rested her lips on my pulse point. A hitched breath caught in my throat when she slipped a hand under my shirt, slowly dragging it upwards across my skin while she laid gentle kisses on my neck, but then her fingers dragged over the ticklish spot on my side and it made me flinch. Jayde chuckled mischievously into my neck when I squirmed underneath her. 

“Jay, I swear—” Another poke made my body jolt again and threw me into a laughing fit, “Quit it!” 

“I love hearing you laugh though.” Jayde protested. 

“It’s bedtime.” I reminded her, trying to summon some authority to my voice through my giggling.

“Says who?” She grumbled. 

I reached down, seizing her arm and pulling it out from under my shirt with only a little resistance. Then I flipped us over, straddling her waist and pinning both of her wrists down beside her head. Jayde was far stronger than I was, especially physically, so I knew she always allowed this to happen, but she still raised an impressed eyebrow whenever I trapped her underneath me like this. 

“Says me.” 

Her smirk was challenging and she wiggled one of her wrists free, reaching for the spot on my side once more. Instead of trying to catch her wrist again, I grabbed her jaw with a firm hand, forcing her eyes to stay glued to mine, and said a simple, “No.” 

The command made Jayde’s body completely freeze, apart from her gaze that darted back and forth from my eyes and down to my lips. I gave her my own crooked grin and then turned her head to the side to expose her neck. Once her skin was bared to me, I bent down and placed an open-mouthed kiss to her warm flesh, relishing the way her body tensed further. 

“Good.” I muttered in her ear and then pushed myself off of her. 

There wasn’t another breath from her until I settled into the blankets. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Bedtime it is.” 

I laughed and pulled her as close to me as possible, our limbs tangling together. I was conscious of her wounded leg and did my best to avoid it, luckily she didn’t flinch in pain at all. Once we were both comfortable, and I could feel our bodies relax in unison, I planted one more kiss to her shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m glad to be home with you.” Jayde replied. 

Being in her arms, it didn’t take long at all for a deep slumber to take me. 

[christophe-delorne]

KGC Drabble Part 1.

Pairings: Kyle and Christophe. For now.

Warnings: None in this part.

Notes: This is from the previous little drabble I wrote about Chris and Greg being werewolves and Kyle being a hunter. Also inspired by former rps along with a few tweeks of my own.

Restlessness ran through Christophe's veins, it was always like this the few days leading up to a full moon. The whole house was tense as everyone was falling onto their more primal nature, which caused a bit of stress between him and Gregory. Normally the blonde was caring, affectionate and maybe a bit of a pushover when it came to Christophe, but on days like this, Gregory's alpha status came to the fore. With a hefty musculature and the height to match, Gregory could be all too imposing during the full moon and he tended to flex his status all too well on Christophe.

It wasn't uncommon for fighting to break out between them, much to Kyle's annoyance. The hunter and their boyfriend tolerated their full moon antics very little. Often times he'd leave as there was no use in trying to reason with the pair who acted more like wild animals than anything civilized. However, it seemed Kyle had come home on the request of Gregory, no doubt who tattled on Christophe. The Frenchman had always been a bit of a handful and then some, aggressive towards strangers which was a bit of a problem as Gregory enjoyed hosting friends at his house. His friends, not Christophe's.

Not that Christophe really was the friendly sort anyways, hard to reach out to as he was distrustful of everyone and only just tolerated the other pack members. One pack member, Kenny, had brought over his girlfriend, Raven last week. That ended badly when Christophe ended up biting her and then it just went all downhill from there. Kyle had yet to mention it, but Christophe could feel it lurking just outside of conversation as if Kyle was waiting for the right moment to bring the topic up. Maybe the red-head was enjoying making Christophe wait on the edge of his seat, fearing and wondering what would happen.

"Christophe." A voice from behind him made the brunette turn to the familiar voice, drawing him from his thoughts. He hadn't even heard Kyle enter his bedroom, but that was not surprising, Kyle had been a monster hunter since he was little, he was trained to move silently even if he was in the safety of their home. Kyle always seemed to hold an air of authority that even werewolves recognized, that and he held himself as if there was nothing he feared. Christophe believed it, which only had concerned him more whenever Kyle went off on hunts alone.

"Kyle?" Christophe's voice was rough and low, but still had a tone of caution as he was uncertain as to what Kyle wanted from him at the moment. Dark green eyes met Kyle's lighter green ones, they seemed more focused than usual, brighter, more... enchanting? Christophe wasn't one to be romantic about such things, but he couldn't help but to feel drawn to Kyle. He didn't question it, during full moons, his body was hardly his own, it belonged to the more wolfish side of him.

He studied Kyle warily as the taller male moved closer, Christophe couldn't look away, concerned if he did that Kyle would deal out punishment. Kyle was a bit strict when Christophe pushed his luck too far, not afraid to put Christophe to the ground. Even a aggressive werewolf like Christophe could barely hold his own against the highly experienced hunter. He wanted to shift into a more defensive stance but his feet were firmly planted on the ground, refusing to budge.

Kyle was now standing before him, raising a hand up to cup Christophe's rough cheek almost affectionately but the Frenchman could feel a sense of danger disguised behind the gentle touch. He knew affectionate touches from Kyle felt like, this one didn't hold the sort of warmth he was used to late at night in bed when everything was still except for the rise and fall of their chests and the sound of their beating hearts.

"You look tired, Christophe." Kyle's lips thinned a little, turning into a slight scowl. Before Christophe could explain why even though Kyle already knew, the red head continued to speak. "You should lay down for a while."

Christophe frowned in return, about to protest that he couldn't. The full moon was drawing closer day by day and sleep was barely an option at this point. However, he did feel a little exhausted, he'd been so focused on waiting for what Kyle was going to do that he ran himself into the ground. His eyelids drooped a little, feeling heavy as if the mere mention of being tired had made him feel as such. He leaned a little into Kyle's hand, yearning for the comforting touch that soothed away his nightmares late at night.

"That's a good boy." Kyle murmured, his voice sounded a little distant as Christophe continued to stare into those bright green eyes, almost like he was falling into them not that it was a bad thing either. Christophe, as corny as it sounded, could spend hours memorizing Kyle's face over and over again, studying the patterns of the light dusting of freckles over pale skin. It always amused him in a loving way, remembering their childhood when he'd been convinced freckles were specks of dirt permanently on Kyle's skin.

"Relax." Kyle spoke, his tone softer but holding no less of a light command to it, guiding the easing werewolf into a steadying embrace, enveloping Christophe in those comforting arms. His eyes closed, the last thing he remembered was the reassuring scent of Kyle easing him to sleep.

[officialthiamlibrary]

Take a trip with Theo and Liam, and enjoy these works for the last day of Thiam Half Birthday week for the Oh The Places We Go theme.

The Only Thing Theo Kept From Beacon Hills by TVTime

Theo tightened his arm around Liam's shoulders and nuzzled his face in his hair. He kissed the space just above Liam’s ear and hummed with contentment.

Liam sighed and turned his body sideways, deeper into Theo's embrace as they stared up at the stars and the breathtaking display lain out before them.

Liam. Theo hadn't left Beacon Hills all those years ago because he had owed Liam for resurrecting him, for saving him from his personal hell and giving him the opportunity to do something good with his life. It seemed fitting that his new purpose had been protecting Liam – from the Ghost Riders, from the hunters, from himself.

But as Theo had left the hospital that fateful night after the Anuk-Ite chapter of their lives had ended, he felt a new sense of freedom and purpose. He didn't feel obligated to Liam anymore; he felt affection toward him, friendship.

And that had given him the strength to say goodbye.

[Teen | 1.2K | No Warnings]

Oh, the Places We’ll Go, and the People We’ll Kill by Uthizaar

“I found love down a sniper scope…”

This story takes place in a Superhero/Supervillain AU with werewolf and chimera powers, in an advanced and often absurd world.

Theo and Corey are an assassination team working for the villainous organisation The Evil Eye under the purview of Stiles, Master of Death & Strangely Convenient Accidents. Liam is their target, the handsome and dashing Chief Security Officer in the service of Scott, World President! Can Theo move beyond his lust for the werewolf to complete his mission? Or will the devastation of Stiles’ STD be unleashed upon the planet while Liam and Theo get lost in their desires?!

[Mature | 6K | No Warnings]

We’re off to see the wizard (and other things) by VolsungartheMighty

Liam asks something of his mother, and then waits for the perfect opportunity.

[Gen | 2.6K | No Warnings]

Take a Break by xTarmanderx

Liam has been stressing over his final exam grades being posted and Jenna's nerves are done with her son. Enter Theo with an idea to save her sanity.

[Gen | 1.2K | No Warnings]

I Miss You by tabbytabbytabby

Both Theo and Liam have a hard time when Theo agrees to go with Derek to Nashville to talk to a pack that could be potential allies. 

[Teen | 2.1K | No Warnings]

home is what i call your name by maraudersourwolf

He’s trying to find something that went missing along the way and can’t yet reach.

Doesn’t remember when it first started, if he’s honest.

[Not Rated | 1.4K | No Warnings]

Personal Trainer by RaeAnnisapancake

Liam goes to the gym and gets a personal trainer.

[Teen | 659 | No Warnings]

All the Stars in the Sky by never_love_a_wild_thing

Liam and Theo are headed to Liam's uncle's lake house to watch the fireworks with Liam's family for the fourth of July. When the truck runs out of gas, it starts to seem like their relationship is going to meet the same fate, but when given the choice between letting the sparks fizzle out or continue to shine through the darkest nights, there's really only one way that Thiam will eve go.

[Teen | 1.8K | No Warnings]

Places We Go Fanart by blockrose

Oh the Places We Go: Theo and Liam take an impromptu trip to San Francisco to see the 4th of July fireworks.

“Oooh! Aaaah!” “Shut up, dork.”

Halfway through the show, Theo looks over at Liam and his breath is just taken away. Liam’s eyes sparkle with the fireworks and his face lights up with the bursts of colors from the sky. But when Theo notices his expression, so boyish and joyful, it makes Theo want to hold him close and make sure it never goes away. “What?” Liam asks, when he notices Theo staring. “Nothing.” Liam glances over at Theo quickly, smiles and grabs his hand, lacing his fingers with Theo’s. With a soft smile on his face, Theo turns back to the show.

Oh the places we go Fanart by li0nh34rt

For the last day of ThiamHalfwayBirthday. Story follows but my muse didn’t want to have it ready for today…

[sammys-happy-ending]

Desaturate: Chapter III

Chapter Title: Danger

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Amnesia, Canon show level violence

Summary: The reader wakes up in a room with Sam and Dean, not having a clue who they are. Through a series of flashbacks, the reader regains her memories, savoring all of the happy moments as well as the tragic ones, as she rediscovers her love for Sam.

Bookmark this piece on Archive of Our Own.

Sam’s voice is the first thing I hear. “Baby, I love you. Promise me you’ll remember that.” I feel him squeeze my hand and graze his thumb across my skin. “I miss you baby. I need you here. Really here. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you in time to kick that demon off you. Please come back.” His voice breaks at the next sentence, “You promised me you wouldn’t leave like everyone else has.” I feel a teardrop hit the back of my hand. “Please remember, Y/N,” he whispers. I feel my heart crack for him. Not quite to the point of breaking, but his voice breaking chisels little fissures into me.

I open my eyes and study him silently. His head is down, his brown hair shielding his face from me. He holds my hand in both of his and he presses a kiss to my knuckles. I squeeze him back involuntarily.

His head snaps up and my eyes meet his. They’re red and puffy. He’s been crying or trying not to. I swallow the lump that jumps into my throat, unable to explain why I feel his pain so deeply.

I’m the first to speak. I do nothing more than whisper his name. “Sam…”

He tucks his hair behind his ear and starts to reflexively rub circles into the back of my hand with his thumb. “I’m right here.” When I flinch my hand slightly from his, his shoulders droop. He lets go of my hand and walks to the door. He pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at me. His face is barely containing his sadness. “I’ll let you rest. I’m sure you need time to think about all this.”

“Don’t go,” I say hesitantly. I blush and avert my eyes to the foot of the bed. “Why can’t I remember anything? What happened?” I’m not sure why I’m not freaking out at this point. I don’t understand why I’m not running from him, or pushing him away from me. But at this point, it doesn’t matter.

He sighs and sits back down in the chair. He looks at me for a moment that seems to last a lifetime, pleading me without words to remember.

“Why don’t I remember marrying you?” My wedding ring peers at me from my left hand in the sling.

He huffs in amusement. “You figured that out, huh?”

“It was hard not to when there’s a picture on the dresser,” I say, smirking at him.

“Yeah. I suppose.” He looks up at me. “Did you remember anything when Cas knocked you out?”

“Was that the guy with the insanely blue eyes?”

“That would be him.”

“Who is he exactly?”

“Try to remember.”

I think about the man for a moment. I gasp suddenly as every shade of brown floods my mind’s eye. The tan interior of the Impala. The mousy shade of brown hair Sam had grown out of. The beige of Castiel’s trench coat. The chocolates Sam brought me when my cramps were so bad that I couldn’t get out of bed.

I feel my eyes widening at him. “Y/N?” He asked, hopefully curious.

“I remember Sammy,” I whisper.

His eyes widen, mirroring mine at the use of his age-old nickname. “What do you remember?” His hand reaches for mine again.

“I remember how we met.”

I peeked around the corner, wanting to stay as silent as possible. We had to find Jo before these assholes got to her. I signaled to Ellen that the way was clear. I ran forward, shotgun cocked. It wouldn’t kill the sons of bitches, but it would slow them down. I peeked into the window of the house where the demon half of town was squatting. Ellen darted up to the door, opening it. I followed closely behind and covered her back. I quickly searched every room in the house, but it was empty.

“Shit,” she huffed.

“Where could they have gone?”

“I have no idea! Let’s just head back to the church.” She walked swiftly past I and I followed.

I was no hunter. Not like Ellen or Jo. I’d been best friends with Jo since preschool, and I was there when she found out her dad died. My parents had been killed just a few weeks ago. Ellen told me it was a werewolf. All of this was still surreal, a nightmare I hoped I would wake up from. But if it was real, Jo and Ellen were all I had now. They traveled around, hunting anything and everything after the roadhouse burned down. There was no way that I was going to live the rest of my life knowing that the things that go bump in the night are real. So here I was, in River Pass, Colorado, hunting about 30 demons. Fabulous.

Ellen and I had made good time getting back to the church. I saw two men, one taller than the other, walking away from us. I pointed them out to Ellen, and she said she could handle it. I tried to protest, but she gave me the look I’d known since I was a kid; she was serious and there’s nothing I could do about it. I huffed and opened the door to the church silently, stepping over the salt line.

At the bottom of the stairs, I knocked on the door. “It’s me,” I said. The door opened and one of my non-demon comrades stood on the other side of it. He looked scared and he held up a bowl of water. Holy water. I dipped my fingers in, and when they didn’t sizzle and I didn’t cry out in pain, he let me through. Before this, he had no idea the kinds of things that were out there, and this was a rude awakening to him. I squeezed his arm gently and sat down at the table next to Amanda. The poor woman was pregnant; about seven months along. I prayed that she wouldn’t go into labor at this point. Partially because I wanted the baby to be healthy, but mostly because it would be a huge pain in the ass to try and sneak a newborn baby and her recovering mother past the demons. The girl with dark hair sitting across from me handed over a bottle of water. I took it gratefully, cracking the cap open and drinking half the bottle in one go.

Ellen came down at that point, followed by the two guys I pointed out to her. They looked apprehensively at the group of us. “This is Sam and Dean. They’re hunters. Here to help,” Ellen broke the uncomfortable silence that had overtaken the basement.

Austin, carrying an assault rifle, asked them, “You guys hip to this whole demon thing?”

The shorter guy replied, “Yeah, are you?”

Roger chewed on his lip pensively. “My wife’s eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick. Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal.”

Ellen catches Sam and Dean up to speed, telling them about Rufus’s investigation of demonic omens, when the entire town went possessed, and how Jo had gotten separated from Ellen and I. We ran into the guys when we were out looking for Jo.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” said the shorter one.

“Either way, these people cannot just sit here. We’ve got to get them out now,” the other noted.

This is when I decided to pipe up. “Great idea, but it’s not that easy. We’ve tried. We already made a run for it once.”

Ellen made short work of introductions. “Sam, Dean, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sam and Dean.” Okay. So Sam was the taller of the two. That’ll make things easier. The boys gave a curt nod.

“What happened?” Sam asked me.

“There used to be twenty of us,” Ellen said quietly. There were only 10 left, including me and Ellen.

Dean looked troubled for a moment, but regained his confidence and calculated demeanor. “Well, there’s three of us now.” He looked at me questioningly. “Four?”

“Three and a half,” I joked half-heartedly. Dean smirks.

“You don’t know what it’s like out there,” Ellen warned, “Demons are everywhere. We won’t be able to cover everybody.”

I looked at Amanda’s worried face, her tense hand on her belly.

Sam asked, “What if we give everyone guns?”

“What are you going to arm up baby bump over here?” Dean retorted.

“More salt we can fire at once, the more demons we can keep away.”

Dean glanced at Pastor. “There’s a sporting goods store we passed on Main on the way in. I bet they’ve got guns.”

Sam dropped his bag and said, “All right. You two stay. We’ll go.”

Before Ellen can bring up Jo and Rufus, Sam reassures her that they’ll bring them back if they’re out there.

Austin opened the door to let Sam and Dean out, but Dean stops Sam. “Why don’t just I go?”

“What? Alone?”

“Someone’s got to stay here and give them shotgun 101.”

“Yeah. Ellen.” Sam turned to walk upstairs, but Dean stops him again.

“It’s going to be faster if you stay and help, okay?”

“While you go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? That’s stupid.”

“I can handle it.”

Sam paused for a second, and a look of realization crossed his face. They continued to argue while I mutter to Ellen, “Are they always like this?”

“Yup.”

“Great. Who are these guys anyway?”

“They’re good hunters. Good people, but they’ve made some pretty messed up decisions along the way. You’ll see,” she told me, then called up to Sam and Dean, “Take Y/N with you. She’s not too experienced but she’s a damn good shot.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean seemed in favor of it, where Sam did not. “Alright sweetheart, let’s go,” Dean calls down to me. I grabbed my shotgun, but Ellen traded me for her revolver, and we set out.

[thenightling]

Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles Issue 0 (Full Review)

(Cover art for the new Fright Night: the Peter Vincent Chronicles comic issue 0. 2018.)

I was going to wait until a digital copy of this comic was available to write this review but as we are nearing September and there is still no digital option I settled on re-reading the comic and examining the panel art with a magnifying glass.  I have to admit that my first read through was more of a skim as I had anticipated savoring the reading if a digital version of the comic was released.  I have very poor eyesight so I do better with reading comics in digital format though there is nothing quite like the smell and touch of a brand new, real, tactile, comic book.

Now on with the review....

Now to begin.   First, the plot.  The story is actually short and fairly straight forward.  These comics ignore Fright Night: Part 2 and the 1989 / 1990 comics but that’s all right.  Just consider it a different continuity but retaining the same base storyline told in the first Fright Night movie from 1985.

(Peter Vincent in Fright Night, 1985.)

The story begins with Peter Vincent filming the episode of Fright Night Theatre that you see Charley and Amy watching in the final scene of the first Fright Night movie.  He is not broadcasting live the way he was in the Fright Night movie sequel.

It is here where I want to address an apology to the movie, Fright Night: Part 2.  I used to dislike Fright Night: Part 2, specifically because it never dealt with the fact that poor Peter Vincent was now without his show and on the run from a psychiatric hospital.  I figure he probably embraced his role as real freelance (and probably payless) vampire hunter but I used to dislike Fright Night Part 2.   It was only after I saw the terrible 2011 remake and it’s direct-to-video “sequel” (which was actually yet another remake)  that I came to appreciate Fright Night: Part 2 (1988).  

Another thing I criticized about Fright Night Part 2 was how Peter Vincent’s show was apparently broadcast live as Peter was caught on camera trying to kill Regine. I once mocked this scene (and secretly loved it too).  But then this past week I was watching Svengoolie (a real Horror Host, whose show airs every Saturday Night at eight PM on MeTV here in the US) and after a commercial break he corrected himself on having repeatedly mispronouncing a real medical disorder suffered by an actor who was in the movie they were showing.  He had been corrected via Twitter, by a fan.  This revealed to me that, though, yes, often tamed, yes, horror hosts sometimes (not always though) do their shows practically live. I had not realized this until last Saturday night, thanks to Svengoolie.

(Svengoolie)

I should never have criticized Fright Night: Part 2 for the scene where Peter Vincent tried to stake Regine on live TV.  I had always (deep down inside) liked that scene and now my suspension of disbelief is more at ease with it, thanks to Svengoolie.   

(Peter Vincent in Fright Night: Part 2, 1988.)

Anyway, in this comic the show is actually taped (as I had originally thought it was / should be; before last week’s episode of Svengoolie.)   And Peter is finishing up the episode that aired at the end of the first Fright Night movie. 

(Page 1 of Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles, issue 0. 2018.) 

After they finish filming the episode, there is a brief and funny dig at Child’s play where Peter Vincent talks about the ridiculous “Killer doll movie.”

(Scene from Child’s Play. 1988. Andy’s mother, Mrs. Barkley, and Chucky.) 

This is especially funny as the original Fright Night was written and directed by Tom Holland, who also directed the original Child’s Play in 1988.  Child’s Play was the first in a long horror franchise about a doll possessed by the soul of a dead serial killer, Charles “Chucky” Lee Ray.  Also the actor who played Jerry Dandridge in the original Fright Night was a major character in Child’s Play.  

(Scene from Child’s Play. 1988.  Chucky and Mike.) 

Peter goes backstage to his dressing room, where he is beginning to feel sorry for himself.  He has stacks of overdue bills to pay and Charley has sent him a very sweet friend-fan letter and Peter thinks that if he were to go and see them (Charley and Amy) it would just remind them of their traumatic ordeal with Jerry Dandridge. That and he is embarrassed that he’s broke and can’t afford to treat them to a nice meal.  He is embarrassed that he can’t hide behind the mask and persona of heroic vampire killer and is ashamed of the reality that he is barely earning enough to live and is neck deep in debt. 

He deliberately plans on keeping his distance and ostracizing himself from his new friends, feeling that he would just be a disruption in their happy lives together.  And this is sad because I can’t help but feel that Peter Vincent is very lonely.

This embarrassment Peter Vincent feels is irrational and silly since Charley has already seen him at his most frightened and vulnerable.  It would not matter to Charley or Amy if he is financially broke.  He’s their friend, but I think (hope) that this is something Peter Vincent will come to terms with in the course of the comics as they continue / if they continue.  

(Peter Vincent and Charley in Fright Night, 1985.)

Peter Vincent (much like Harry Dresden in Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files) is heroic when innocent lives are threatened by the forces of darkness, but he is perpetually broke and simply not all that good with money.  He has overdue bills.  Peter might have his TV show back but it’s not enough to pay his debts.  

(Peter Vincent.)

The comic also reveals a detail that Fright Night, Fright Night Part 2, and the 1989 and 1990 Fright Night comics never addressed.  Peter Vincent had been very abruptly divorced years earlier and that had wiped him out, financially. (Note: There is a high chance Peter Vincent is bisexual, as he is partly modeled after Vincent Price and had been portrayed on film by Roddy McDowall.  Both men had been bisexual in real life.)  

(Roddy McDowall and Vincent Price.)

Peter had never quite recovered from that divorce.  And when he was younger, and his movie roles were more plentiful, he had been careless with his finances and never really learned how to save money.     

The creation of his TV show (Fright Night Theatre) had been a means to stay afloat when movie roles were no longer common for him.  And during the events of the original Fright night film, when he had been fired from his own show, he had been devastated.  

Helping to defeat and kill the real vampire, Jerry Dandridge, had given him a short injection of confidence so that he had been able to get his show back.  Unfortunately this invigoration had been short lived and there were bills to pay and Peter is feeling sorry for himself...  

(Image from Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles issue 0. 2018)

It is while Peter Vincent is wallowing in this melancholy and self-pity that he realizes something is very wrong. 

(Image from Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles issue 0. 2018)

 He quickly discovers that most of his crew (His film crew) has been slaughtered or newly turned into vampires.

Evil Ed is here and he wants revenge!   

(Evil Ed in Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles, issue 0. 2018.) 

Now, Peter Vincent had a recent, semi-failed, attempt to rekindle fan interest in himself (and boost his own income) by starting a fan club dedicated to himself.  And the token for members is a small silver coin with Peter Vincent’s official insignia or sigil (I prefer the word sigil, myself, it makes it sound more magical) engraved upon it.  And yes, silver, often IS a weakness for vampires.  Silver was a weakness for vampires in Satanic Rites of Dracula,  Dark Shadows (nearly all incarnations of the lore), Dracula 2000, Dracula 2 (2003), and in the TV series True Blood (2010) as well as many other works of vampire fiction.  There is a considerable overlap in with vampire and werewolf weaknesses, dating back to the nineteenth century.

One thing that I am very fond of about the original Fright Night and things tied to its continuity, is the use of older vampire lore, such as the bat and wolf transformations from the novel Dracula (which you don’t see much anymore), the use of roses as a ward against vampires in Fright Night: Part 2 (which is directly from the Dracula novel), the obsessive counting which got used in the Fright Night 1989 / 1990 comics and has its origin in Eastern European folklore and comes up in Dracula 2 (2003).  

(Jerry Dandridge and his compulsive need to count in the Fright Night comics from 1989 / 1990.)

And here in Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles, the use of silver as a weakness against vampires.      

Peter has not sold a single fanclub membership and the only person who seems even remotely interested in it is Charley.  Peter has an entire box of unused Peter Vincent Fanclub membership coins, made of silver, and bearing his personal sigil / emblem.

(Peter Vincent’s symbol / sigil from Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles, issue 0, 2018.) 

So, desperate to save himself from this vampire attack on the TV studio, Peter starts tossing coins, weaponizing his own fanclub membership token.  (“Made of genuine vampire killing silver!”)

One thing I noticed about Peter Vincent in the original Fright Night, Fright Night: Part 2, the 1989 / 1990 Fright Night comics, and this new Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles issue 0 comic, is that Peter Vincent, despite being up there in age, and not trained for real combat, is actually a very good shot.   

(Charley Brewster and Peter Vincent in Fright Night, 1985.)

In the original Fright Night he was able to shoot Billy Cole right in the forehead.  In the sequel he squirted several vampires with holy water.

(Peter Vincent in Fright Night: Part 2, 1988.)

And Peter was able to aim a beam of daylight, reflected off a broken piece of mirror, directly down onto Regine Dandridge (Jerry Dandridge’s sister).   

Now here, in the Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles issue 0 comic, he has an incredibly lucky shot, and (possibly by accidental fortune) hits Evil Ed right in the tongue with one of silver Peter Vincent fanclub coins, seering his sigil into the tender flesh, the same way the cross scarred Ed’s forehead.  

This is a slightly bothersome point for me, by the way.  Though I love this comic and think it’s very well illustrated, it does bug me a little that Ed somehow still has the cross-forehead-scar, when we saw it fade from his forehead after he was staked in Fright Night.  

(Evil Ed during his death scene in Fright Night, 1985.)

It makes sense that Ed survived the staking, as Peter made the mistake of pulling the stake out later. (This is how Dracula is revived in Universal Studios’ House of Frankenstein, by the way.)  

(Dracula waking up after his resurrection in House of Frankenstein, 1944.)

We are also told that this was how Evil Ed survived in the 1989 / 1990 Fright Night comics.   

I had heard that this was the original plan- to have Evil Ed as the villain in Fright Night Part 2, but Jerry Dandridge’s sister, Regine, was used as the villain instead. 

Peter Vincent pulling the stake out after Ed’s death had always been a deliberately written act, to be a mistake of the character, who was not yet used to dealing with real vampires, to enable Ed’s eventual return.  

(Peter Vincent recalling removing the stake from Evil Ed’s chest in issue 8 of The Fright Night comics from 1989 / 1990.)  

I understand and accept Ed surviving the original Fright Night film but the old cross scar probably should have remained faded.  It’s one thing for a character to still be alive, it’s another for a wound to reappear when it had disappeared. Still, it does present an iconic and familiar visual so I get why the artist chose for it to be there.

Peter also successfully uses a prop foam cross gravestone as a weapon and also floods the TV studio set with daylight, by ripping down the blackout curtains. (Much like what Peter Cushing does as Doctor Van Helsing in Horror of Dracula.  I love these Hammer Horror homages.)    

(Peter Cushing as Doctor Van Helsing in Horror of Dracula, 1958.)

Note: Peter Cushing is who Peter Vincent’s first name and film career are based on, with the surname Vincent being a reference to Vincent Price, from whom many of Peter Vincent’s other character traits are derived from.

Evil Ed should really stop trying to take on Peter Vincent.  He keeps getting scarred and mutilated.  Now his speech is at least temporarily impaired, and Peter’s symbol (sigil) is burned into his tongue.  Vowing revenge- though very slurred- Ed escapes and Peter is left to explain the situation to the head of the localized public access TV station.  His crew has “disappeared” and the set is ruined.  This does not go very well.  (“Would you believe vampires?”)   Peter is fired...

He is told he will never work in TV again.  His career is over.  

Peter is on his way home to his apartment when he encounters a Count Orlock (Nosferatu movie from 1922) style vampire.

(Count Orlock in the film, Nosferatu, 1922.)

There is a short struggle and the vampire bests Peter before forcing him to sit down for a polite conversation.  

This vampire, who calls himself Nicolae Demonov, (punny) tells Peter that vampires have become impure.  Here, we see a panel indicates that this is actually Jerry Dandridge’s own vampiric maker, which also makes (from the visual) Jerry apparently much younger than the claim in the Fright Night novelization (that makes him at least four-hundred-years-old and possibly Dracula) or Fright Night Part 2, which claimed Jerry Dandridge was over a thousand when he was killed.  

However, a Count Orlock style vampire IS Dracula’s maker in the film Dracula: Untold, so this doesn’t entirely destroy the possibility that Jerry Dandridge was Dracula, per se, but the background of the panel suggested a contemporary (or at least nineteenth century) scene when he had been bitten by Nicolae.  

(The Master Vampire in Dracula: Untold. 2014.)

Nicolae offers Peter one hundred thousand dollars for every impure vampire he kills.  As the vampire bloodline has been diluted from making too many vampires, this has apparently lead to genetic mutations; Vampires with more weaknesses, vampires that burn from a cross even when the weider has no faith.  

(Peter Vincent in the 1989 / 1990 Fright Night Comics.)

And there are vampires that shapeshift without meaning to, involuntarily.  This results in man-bats, and man-wolf transformations without intent.  These mutations also account for different breeds of vampire with differing weaknesses and lesser or unstable powers, a topic which also came up in the 1989 / 1990 Fright Night comics- that there are different varieties of vampire out there, different breeds of vampire to contend with, that have different powers and weaknesses. It has a logic to it.

The vampires that end up in half-animal-form also resemble the man-bat and man-wolf forms Dracula took in the 1992 film, Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

(Images from Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1992.) 

And the humanoid bat form the brides took in the movie Van Helsing.

(One of the Brides in humanoid-bat form in the film Van Helsing, 2004.)  

Nicolae refers to Jerry Dandridge and vampires like him as decadent, which is a paraphrased quote from The Vampire Armand, in the film adaptation of Anne Rice’s Interview with The Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles, when discussing his own coven of Theatre vampires under The Theatre des Vampires, that he has come to resent. 

(Armand in the film Interview with the vampire.  1994.)

Nicolae is especially bothered by how reckless and indiscrete these newer vampires are and how they risk exposing all vampires and their society to the human world, which could be disaster for humans and vampires alike- setting the world back into The Dark Ages with fear and panic.  Nicolae also believes a new mutation of vampire has sprung up that could be a threat to vampires and human beings.  This indicates that the vampires and vampire hunters ultimately might have to join forces for the sake of both their survival, like when Blade went up against the “uber vamps” in the movie Blade II.

(An Uber Vampire from Blade II, 2002.)

The end scene in the comic is Peter accepting the offer to kill these other vampires for money and regaining a boost of confidence in the process.  He is Peter Vincent The Great Vampire Killer!

(Peter Vincent in Fright Night, 1985.)

I thought this comic was good, old-fashioned, fun.  Where too many comics now are politicized today and lack charm or likable characters, this was a breath of fresh air and Peter Vincent is a very sympathetic and very realistic protagonist for all of his human faults and flaws.  The artwork is highly detailed and atmospheric.

I give the comic an 8 out of 10.  My only complaints being Evil Ed’s scar even though I know, aesthetically, why they chose for it to be there, and the fact that there is no digital option for reading this comic on the computer.  

I liked Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles very much and sincerely hope it continues.  

I hope that a certain character trait carries over from Fright Night Part 2 and the 1989 / 1990 Fright Night Comics.  

(Peter Vincent from issue 10 of Fright Night, 1989 / 1990 comic books.) 

I sincerely hope that Peter Vincent continues to do battle in his nineteenth century style Doctor Van Helsing-esque costume with the Sherlock Holmes style jacket with mantle, and velvet Victorian suit, with white shirt and crunched-lace sleeve cuffs, wearing a waistcoat, and cravat.  I love the idea of a silver-fox, dandy, neo-Victorian (a subcategory of Goth culture) vampire hunter walking around 1980s (or even present day) America.   So far it appears that he will and I am glad of this. 

 I love Peter Vincent and it’s good to see the original version of the character live again, even if it is only in comic book form.  I hope the comic book series continues and gets a more mainstream distribution.  This deserves more attention than it is getting.

(Peter Vincent from the poster art for Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles. 2018.)

Long live the original Peter Vincent, The Great Vampire Killer! 

  Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles issue 0 can currently be purchased for $9.99 at Tom Holland’s Terror Time online store.

There was a more expensive collector’s version of issue 0 of Fright Night: The Peter Vincent Chronicles, with a poster signed by Tom Holland (the original director and writer of Fright Night), a replica of the Peter Vincent fan club coin, and a wooden stake, but I think those sold out.  

https://terrortime.shop/product/fright-night-the-peter-vincent-chronicles-issue-0-comic/

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled News and a bit more

Howdy, folks. 

EDIT: I just posted the last chapter of Shackled!!!!!!!!!. I wanted to thank everyone for their lovely comments and reblogs. Everyone has been so very encouraging and excited, and it’s been fantastic, I gotta say.

Now that Shackled is finished, I will begin posting another multi- chapter Supernatural story. Please, if you’d like, take a minute to look over the preview below. If you’d like to be added to my Long Haul (everything) tag list or you’d like to be placed on the Walk Me Home list, let me know, and I will adjust accordingly. Again, thank you so much for sticking with the story, jumping in on the story, just hanging out with me and the story. Y’all are the best. 

Walk Me Home

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. I had fun writing it, so I hope you’ll have fun reading it. Trying to keep preview shorter, so I promise huge shoutouts to EVERYONE who helped me SO MUCH with this story.

Inspired by P!nk’s song “Walk Me Home”

Story Warnings (None of these apply to preview): Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Chapter 1 Preview

A firm tap on the door of her office makes Kimberly’s head snap up. She blinks, her eyes unable to focus quickly after looking up from her computer screen. She remembers she’s wearing her reading glasses, and slips them off her nose, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck.

“Dr. Harper? Could I take a few minutes of your time?”

“Yes, I…” Her eyes finally focus on her visitor, and the room is suddenly devoid of oxygen. “Dean? Is it...really?”

“Kimber?” 

The astonished man framed in the doorway is a far cry from the brash, charming boy she met in a different life, but she’d know him anywhere. Time has been more than kind to Dean Winchester, and Kimberly has to admit some things really do get better with age.

Which is saying a lot, considering.

“God, no one’s called me that since high school.” She stands and takes a couple of measured steps around her desk. Seeing him unexpectedly like this after so much time leaves her physically and emotionally off-balance, but the smile she offers him is genuine. “You’re a helluva sight for sore eyes. It’s been a while.”

Dean recovers from his shock quickly, crossing the small room in a few quick strides, and sweeps her into a hug. She’s engulfed in his presence, not just his physical stature (she does not remember him being this tall or broad or...solid) but also the scent and feel that is absolutely Dean. She feels a shock of vertigo as memories and emotions she’d long laid to rest all vie for immediate attention.

It hits them simultaneously that they’ve embraced for a few moments longer than necessary, and they disentangle with sheepish smiles.

“What are...no, I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Have a seat!” A lop-sided smile pulls at Dean’s lips, and suddenly she’s seventeen again, trying desperately to keep her cool as she finally gets to talk to the handsome, mysterious new kid. Warmth floods every cell of her body, and she comes dangerously close to giggling. 

“Coffee?” she offers, forgetting most of her hard-earned vocabulary in the face of her teenage dream.

“Always.”

...

The last time she’d seen Dean Winchester, his father was burning holes in his elder son’s back from the driver’s seat of his precious Impala. He glowered at Dean and Kimber, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the teenagers stumbled through their good-byes. Dean’s younger brother sat, slump-shouldered and defeated in the back seat, resigned to yet another relocation.

“Don’t forget my number,” Kimberly murmured, her palms sliding over his jaw, fingers threading into his close-cropped hair, and they both knew she meant, “Don’t forget me.”

“I couldn’t if I tried, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. He cleared his throat, trying to turn away before she could see any weakness.

“Don’t,” she said, holding his face firmly. “If this is all I get of you, don’t even take that much from me.”

Five blissful weeks they’d had before Dean’s father concluded his mysterious business in the area. Five weeks since she’d begun tutoring Dean in AP American History; an absolute sham, she had realized exactly five minutes into their first session. Dean may not have been caught up on the exact dates and details of what they were covering in class, but once he set eyes on the material, even she had a hard time keeping pace with his reasoning.

“Just wanted to talk to you alone,” he’d admitted that afternoon, his olive eyes sparkling. He flashed her what had to be an award-winning half-grin, showing a glimpse of perfect, dazzling white teeth and the merest touch of uncertain vulnerability. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked, genuinely curious. He had to practice that expression in the mirror; it was too perfect to be natural. His face lit up as his smile spread, his cheeks gaining the faintest hint of pink. In that one moment, Kimber realized she’d lived her entire life under an overcast sky, and now the clouds had parted. His smile was the sun on her face for the first time, dazzling and vital, and she soaked it in with dizzy abandon.

“Why, is it working on you?”

“Yeah, it, um, it really is.”

They spent the next month or so getting to know each other as only kids can, when everything is new, the absolute pinnacle of priority and passion. They studied each other as fervently as they should have studied for midterms. Explaining how the Age of Enlightenment influenced the American Revolution was a complete waste of time next to finding out that the beautiful, smooth-talking, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester was actually ticklish.

Dean told her the most amazing stories, which she only learned were true after he and his family disappeared. She caught him up in history enough for the teacher to get off his back, and in return he showed her how to get rid of unwanted physical attention with minimal risk on her part.

Dean wasn’t her first kiss, but he wiped the memory of every other fumbling embrace from her mind with a searing permanence. Some nights they snuck out to the tree house in her backyard, and some nights she snuck him into her room. He would never take her out to any of the famous local make-out spots, though; he said they were too dangerous and just begging for trouble. 

She knew better than to argue with him when he got “that look” on his face, spoke to her in “that tone.” It took many years and some hard experiences of her own, but she did eventually learn that he’d been protecting her from so much more than she ever could have understood at that point in her life.

She found herself in awe of the sheer amount of wisdom contained in such a carefree, often goofy package. That they were chronologically the same age, almost to the month, was irrelevant; Dean Winchester had lived far beyond his years, and it showed.

And then one night, he’d arrived on her doorstep in the middle of dinner, asked if she could come outside for a minute. When he told her he was leaving, she knew he wasn’t joking. He’d warned her it would happen this way, that he had no idea how long they’d be in town, but she’d always imagined that future as some vague, misty destination, like “graduation” or “college.” Definitely going to happen, but not anytime soon, so might as well relax and enjoy things while you could.

“I…” But she couldn’t say it, not yet. She wanted to, had read so many novels and seen all the movies. It was the thing to say, and half her friends had already proclaimed their hearts belonging to various celebrities and hot guys around school. But staring into Dean’s eyes, so much older than they should be, she knew better than to throw that word out so lightly, carelessly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. His eyelids dropped, shoulders heaved once, and when he met her gaze again, that smooth front of cool confidence had slid back in place. “I know, sweetheart. Me, too.”

He kissed her then, despite his father’s glowering, despite her parents’ astonished looks from between the living room curtains. His hands were tight on her waist, and she raised up on her toes, pulling his face just a little closer. 

They pulled apart after a long moment, eyes locked, and she kissed him one last time, chastely, savoring the plush of his velvet-soft lips against hers. 

Then she let him go, and he went. There was nothing else they could do.

She hugged herself against the chill autumn night, ignoring the first dashes of icy rain that stung her bare arms as she watched the black Impala turn a corner and disappear.

She didn’t see him again for nearly two and a half decades. When he knocked on her office door, asking for Dr. Harper, the years melted away. She felt the sting of the rain, the chill of the night he’d left, and for a long moment, all she could do was stare.

[kdfrqqg]

Stronger

Cas x Reader Warnings: Self doubt talk, Dean being awesome, language, some angst Summary: reader is having a rough week, Cas unknowingly hurts her feelings.

This was written for or Kas’ 2.5k dialogue challenge @kas-not-cas

I chose Prompt: #17 with Cas, “I’m sure that sounded different in your head, but please don’t ever say that again.”

Word Count: 1.9K

The past few days had been extremely exhausting to say the least. A shape shifter had taken you hostage for twelve hours, causing all kinds of havoc while wearing a replica of your meat suit. Luckily the guys figured it out pretty quickly, rescuing you from the cage he had locked you up in.

In the same week, Sam found a case which sounded like some vamps. This one should have been an easy, stop, drop and roll kinda situation until you got knocked out during the nest raid and Sam and Dean had to save your ass again.

Normally, things like this didn’t happen to you. This feeling that you weren’t cut out for this life anymore just kept stalking you but the boys could always find away to pull you out of a funk.

You were hanging out with Sam, Dean and Cas in the War room. Laughter flowed from all of you as everyone ragged on each about their screw ups over the years.

“Oh God, Sam, I had forgotten about that. Seriously, Dean wear a fucking condom next time.” You chuckled about the Amazon case.

“Whatever, at least I didn’t get myself seduced by that werewolf or a demon.” Dean joked about his brother’s past relationships.

The jokes kept flying most of the evening, you had finished half a twelve pack when the conversation had hit a lull and everyone sat back and enjoyed the silence.

A few minutes past when the very stoic Cas filled the air with his thoughts, “Women are the fairer sex, correct?”

“Yes, Cas, that’s how we’re perceived.” You took a large swallow of beer.

“Is it not foolish for women to become hunters? Men are stronger than women and most monsters are stronger than men so a female hunter is at an even greater disadvantage. Women shouldn’t be hunters in that regard.” The boys jaws dropped at Cas’ words waiting for you to react.

You stood up, trying not to loose your cool with the inept angel and cut him off before he said anything else to piss be you off,

“I’m sure that sounded different in your head, but please don’t ever say that again.“

With that you left the table and went to your room.

“What the hell, man?” Dean fussed at Cas.

“I was simply stating an observation that perplexes me.” Cas tried to explain.

Sam sat up in his chair, “It’s true most women aren’t as strong as men are but that is why women hunters are so much braver than us.”

“Exactly!” Dean interjected, “Shit Cas, (Y/N) is so strong. She kicks our asses all the time when we spar. She is probably better at research than Sam is.“

“Hey!” Sam called out.

“Dude, it’s true.“ He responded to Sam’s objection, “Since, she has been hunting with us, our jobs have gotten a hell of a lot easier. Women open up to her and men tell her things when she flirts with them that Sam and I just can’t pry out people. She means so much to this team and then you tell her she shouldn’t hunt because she isn’t as physically strong as a guy is. You get your ass in there and fix this.” Dean went off on Cas.

Cas cautiously knocked on the door, “Go away!” You yelled.

“(Y/N)” Cas said quietly as he opened the door.

“Castiel, what part of go away don’t you understand.” You spat as you wiped tears from your eyes while sitting up on the bed with your legs crossed.

“Are you crying?” He asked as he came towards you.

“No, I’m not.” lying to yourself and him.

“I see your tears. Are you crying because of me?” Cas inquired sitting next to you on the bed.

He caught you, so you should just be honest, “Yes and no, Cas. It’s just, I had a hard week and then what you said was very hurtful.” You spelled it out for him knowing it’s difficult for him to gage people’s emotions.

“I didn’t mean to be hurtful. I wasn’t implying that you aren’t good at what you do. I was only trying to state a fact but then Dean helped me to understand that a hunter’s value is not solely based on their physical strength.”

“He did.” You sniffed and looked at him with hopefully eyes.

He surrounded you with his arms, “Yes, he did. You’re smart, brave, and very strong. I am sorry for hurting you.”

You breathed in his warm smell as you nuzzled into his neck. “Cas, it’s ok.”

“It’s not. Your are my friend and I should have never said that. You are very important to this team and to me.” He pulled from his embrace and looked you directly in your eyes. “How can I help fix this?”

“Just stay with me, Cas.” your eyes pleaded with him as you placed your hand on his knee. His warm body pressed against yours and his kind thoughtful apology swirled your emotions for Cas. He was amazingly handsome and you really just needed to be comforted.

“I will stay with you as long as you need.” He rubbed your arm.

He was being so sweet and your hand almost involuntarily moved to his face. “I just need some comfort. Can you do that?”

His deep blue eyes nodded before his lips pressed tenderly against yours bordering on hesitant, unsure if that is what you really meant. He broke away from the kiss, “Was that ok?” He asked.

“Yes, Cas that was ok. Do want to continue?” Your voice was sultry trying to assess his level of interest.

“I would love to continue.” He wiped a tear that formed at the corner of your eye. He kissed you again still gentle with almost feather like touches to your face. It felt like he didn’t want to break you but in that moment that’s what you needed. You both laid back on the bed feeling him cuddle you to his toasty body. The kissing stopped, his arms enveloped you even more as you interlocked your legs to his. Within minutes you were asleep but Cas kept holding you.

Sam and Dean decided they were going to check up on you since you and Cas never returned. When they opened the door they saw you almost curled up in a ball around Cas with the angel’s arms encircled around you. Cas’ head moved from the pillow and signaled them to be quiet and to go away.

“Cas, who was that?” You asked still groggy from your nap.

“Just the guys.” He responded.

“Oh” you weren’t sure what think. You mind was jumbled, you shouldn’t be in bed with Cas, you shouldn’t have kissed him either and now the guys knew that you probably had a moment with him. “You should go, Cas.”

“If that’s what you want?” It should have been a statement but he posed it the form of a question.

“Not really. I don’t want you to leave me.” You protested your own suggestion.

“Then I won’t. Are you worried about us or what the guys will think?” Cas inquired.

“I know it sounds silly but yes. I’ve never kissed either of them or even wanted to kiss them. Now, I feel like I’m going to ruin everything.“ The tears started to form again.

He cupped your face, “(Y/N), look at me. You are not going to ruin anything. Don’t worry about them, they’ll understand.” He shifted his body weight, his thick thigh pressed into your core, his lips collided into yours, now with greater passion and weight behind them. His lips were delicious and tasted like honey and hops. They glided down over your jawline as he whispered kisses into your neck. You giggled as his stubble tickled a sensitive patch of skin. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers traced down your body to your waist as your legs widened allowing him full access. You moaned feeling his clothed hardened cock against your sex.

“You are so beautiful but you’re vulnerable right now and if you only want me for comfort, I will be here for you. I just don’t want to take advantage of you.” He confessed.

You thought about it. You were almost happy that Cas stopped you, if you and Cas became lovers tonight, you would always be lovers or former lovers and no matter how you cut it and that would change everything. “I do want you, Cas.”

“Do you just want me tonight or something more permanent?” He kissed you, feeling his whole body move on top of you, he grunted a little as his hips made a slow circle into you.

“I want this to be more.” You whispered afraid to say it too loud. He moved from on top of you. You whined in disbelief, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” his kisses were more gentle like earlier, “I want to take you out, spend more time with you. I care for you greatly.”

“You do?” You thoughts ran wild, how could he actually like you.

“Yes, I have for awhile. Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?” He asked.

A smile spread across your face as you drew your swollen bottom lip inward gently bitting it. “Yeah, Cas, I want to go out with you.”

“Good then, I should probably go now.” He kissed your forehead.

“You don’t have to leave. You could hold me if you want.” You voice was still needy. He agreed removing his suit jacket and trench coat and pressed his chest to your back.

When you woke the next morning, Cas had snuck out of your room. You shuffled down the hall towards the kitchen, Sam greeted you while you made yourself a cup of coffee.

“So how are you and Cas?” Sam questioned.

“A lot better.” You smiled.

“I’m glad.” He informed you.

Sam and you were always able to sit in silence and it not be akward. He never forced you to talk even though you wanted to but you didn’t know where to start. How do you tell your best guy friend that you kissed an angel last night but sometimes fate is funny.

”(Y/N), Sam” Dean’s voice brought you out of your own head, “y'all in here?”

“Yeah, we are.” Sam called out.

You started smiling as soon as you saw Cas walk through the doorway with Dean. “We are going on a supply run, you need anything?” Dean asked. You pointed to the list of the fridge. “Got it!”

Cas walked over and leaned in giving you a sweet peck on the lips, “We shouldn’t be too late. I can’t wait to take you out tonight.” You watched both Sam and Dean’s reactions as he pulled away realizing that Cas hadn’t mentioned anything to Dean either.

“Me too.” You grinned, “What time should I be ready?”

“Is seven ok?” His lips ghosted over top of yours.

“Seven is wonderful.” You kissed him back.

As they left, you heard Dean giving Cas a hard time, “Dude, why didn’t you tell me?” You chuckled to yourself.

“So just better?” Sam raised his eyebrows as he asked you.

“Ok we are better than better.” You simply couldn’t stop smiling or thinking about Cas. This was going to be the best date ever.

Honestly, I really do want your feedback!! It may determine how I write my next fic.

“Give it to me! You know you want to!” Writer winks at reader.

MY MASTER LIST Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Everything @bandobsession98, @greenappleeyes, @honeybeetrash, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @18crazybutcutealsopsycho, @xdifsx

Cas only @webcricket, @angelsdeadromance

Reader insert @jensen-jarpad

[sterek]

Fav sterek fics?

I have 402 bookmarks on AO3, how do I choose favorites?! I guess I can try ; ; here’s my pathetic attempt at a sterek rec list (fics added as I find them in my bookmarks, not by favorites):

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [116k, M]

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

Safety in Silence by Survivah [66k, M]

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

Easy Trouble by Survivah [55k, M]

Derek+Stiles+fairies = love spell

“Make love to me,” Derek demands.

What.

Where The Inevitable Isn’t by Survivah [41, M]

Stiles has a magical thingamajig that’s supposed to get him out of danger. Trouble is, it took him really, really far out of danger. Like, to the point where he isn’t in the same universe anymore.

“A part of Stiles had been thinking that he’d come home, and just go, ‘hey, Derek, are we mates and you just haven’t said anything about it?’ and Derek would reply, ‘now you mention it, we are indeed! Now come to my bedchamber, where we will have super hot sex and then cuddle after!’”

A Simple Life by Survivah [13k, T]

Derek plans to spend the rest of his life holed up in the woods after Laura dies. Then he meets a stubborn young fox, and the stubborn young fox meets an urn of Deaton’s magic powder, and his plans change.

(You) Bring Out the Beast (In Me) by Ember [21k, E]

“Should I make out the wedding invitations?”

Stiles swallowed his mouthful of soda.”What?”

Lydia smirked. “Well, you and Derek have seemed awfully cozy lately. Just wanted to be supportive.”

“Oh, yeah, because that’s exactly why I went into wildlife preservation.” He rolled his eyes. “Beastiality jokes.”

+++

Aka the one where Derek is a wolf and Stiles is his trainer, and then magic and transformations and feelings happen.

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach [76k, E]

“Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf.” An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

The Long Way Round series by exclamation [3 works, 180k, E]

The Moon In Me by dancinbutterfly [16k, E]

Derek’s never had a word for the line his identity walks between male and female so he goes with the default cisgender term. Before his girlfriend queer bashed him, he was really comfortable with that nonconventional sense of self, embraced it, loved it. Now traumatized he’s pulled away from the person inside and hid in the stereotype male facade except for in the most private of places with the closest of family. Stiles, home from school to take care of his dad, may be the first person in a decade Derek can be the real Derek with. It’s dangerous because Stiles wants that Derek, he really does.

Open the Door by Renay [24k, NR]

Derek gives Stiles his jacket.

The Sanctuary by chase_acow [24k, E]

Stiles runs away during his first heat, right into the waiting and ambiguously scary arms of the Alpha’s nephew, Derek Hale. He doesn’t have any choice except to submit, but along the way, he digs up a mystery that threatens his family and even the town’s safety.

Best Thing by 74days [59k, M]

In a world where the supernatural is widely known, The Others (or werewolves) are treated like Royalty. Every year, they pick a handful of people from nearby towns to Serve - unpaid. Stiles was one of the ‘lucky’ ones to get picked, although he’s not very happy about it…

Black Out Days by Stoney [12k, T]

Myocardial contusion: literal crushing and bruising of one’s heart.

There’s an accident. All Stiles can remember is how the handsome guy sitting next to his hospital bed makes him feel. And that the accident happened at a wedding. Which means…

Bodice Ripper ‘Verse series of unrelated works by Stoney [4 works, ALL INCREDIBLE !!!!!, 48k, E]

Trust Fall by Stoney [144k, E]

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it’s pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait…does this mean he’s the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit.****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn’t be calm and focused.

Of course.

Red Against the Snow by Ember [34k, E]

Little Red Riding Hood isn’t just one story. People are mistaken about that. Hell, Grimm wasn’t even original about it. The first guy to publish it was actually Charles Perrault, a french writer who wrote shit for the Louis XIV’s court. And damn, there was nothing subtle about it.Stiles is trapped for the holidays in the cabin of a strange man/hermit named Derek. A strangely friendly wolf befriends Stiles during his stay. It’s up to the teenager to find out why Derek has secluded himself from society, what the feelings he’s beginning to have means, and what the connection between the mysterious man and the mysterious black wolf is.

Settle Down by wearing_tearing, whatthehale [153k, E]

Stiles is a struggling author barely making ends meet.

Derek is a successful architect whose biological clock is ticking.

Enter a surrogacy agency, two packs, and a particularly sticky and toe curling heat week and you get a match made in heaven.

To Have Outlived the Night by stillane [23k, M]

Derek steps away from the window. “You helped me. They took that as a declaration.”

Every Step You Take by Nokomis [49k, M]

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

The Love You Save (May Be Your Own) by Nokomis [17k, T]

Everyone falls magically in love with Stiles. Well, except for Derek, who is suspiciously immune.

[Not!Fic] Random Craigslist Missed Connections Derek/Stiles Not!Fic of Doom by fire_juggler_writes (fire_juggler) [17k, T] also the AMAZING podfic you can find here!

An AU in which Stiles is lonely and addicted to the Missed Connections page on craigslist, Derek is a hermit with a persistant sister, Scott gives unexpectedly good relationship advice, and it all ends happily-ever-after.

DILF by twentysomething [30k, E]

“Today is Scott’s first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified.”

Important Things by suzvoy [71k, M]

Stiles learns that even with werewolves, giant lizards and psychopathic hunters on the loose, life can still find other ways to screw with you. Case in point: everyone keeps assuming he and Derek are a couple. What the hell?

We Got Something Magic by alisvolatpropiis [50k, E]

Scott is never bitten, so Stiles never meets Derek or learns about werewolves. He is, however, since a young age, captivated by a recurring dream of a beautiful, red-eyed wolf that he comes to hold dear to his heart. After college, he moves to Seattle and decides to get a tattoo to acknowledge his dream Wolf, finding a lot more than he expected at Triskele Tattoo.

In which Derek is a tattoo artist and a good alpha, Laura is alive, and Stiles and Derek share each other’s dreams.

cast our fevers in stone by nagia [64k, E]

What if fate twisted the other way?

OR: Stiles’s life has just become an object lesson in “why we do not go out in the woods looking for dead bodies.”

OR: Lycanthropy and ADHD are going to be the suckiest mix.

All This Has Happened by 1001cranes [10k, M]

The thing is, most of it’s been done before. People competing for money, or love, or fame - it’s all boring, it’s all been done, has-been, seen before, who cares? Until some motherfucker finally realized - you know what’s really interesting?

Revenge.

Dystopian AU where fame is the name of the game. Sometimes revenge is the quickest way to the top, and Derek Hale has plenty to avenge - Stiles is just along for the ride.

By Any Other Name by entanglednow [33k, E]

He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he’s on the run with. But he’s pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

Murder, He Wrote by mklutz [31k, E]

And that was how Stiles accidentally became a New York Times bestselling author.

Now Until the End by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [17k, M]

“Why the hell did you do that?“ Derek demanded. “Why would you bond with me? You were going to leave me for dead, you didn’t want anything to do with helping me.”

 "Okay, first of all, that was like two hours ago and I’ve grown a lot as a person since then,“ Stiles said.

Caged By Frail and Fragile Bars by publicspeaking [16k, T]

It’s hard to find your place in life when you’re only human and feel completely replaceable. Or, how Stiles finds out that while yes, he is completely human, he is irreplaceable.

It’s been like years since it’s been clear by sirona [34k, M]

It’s six-thirty in the morning, but there are warm lights behind the floor-to-ceiling, de-boarded windows, and the 'For Sale’ sign on the door has disappeared along with Stiles’ memory of where he’d been headed just moments before. The coffee shop is, apparently, open for business once more.

Break the Lock If It Don’t Fit by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [12k, E]

“Do you know what just happened?” Peter asked, frowning. “Do you know what Derek did?”

“He dislocated my shoulder,” Stiles snapped, but Peter just arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by that answer.

Not Your Disney Romance by tylerfucklin (Deshonanana) [42k, M]

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack’s alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

There is a Brotherhood by minusoneday [21k, E]

So far, college has taught Stiles three things:

1) Eight am classes are cruel and unusual and should be avoided at all costs, even if it means having to enroll in something truly hideous instead, like Econ 101.

2) Dorm security is just as tight as Stiles’ orientation leader had promised it would be, and the dude guarding Scott’s dorm in particular does not respond well to bribes.

3) Mrs. McCall clearly had no clue what she was talking about when she’d insisted that Scott and Stiles needed to branch out and room with strangers, so it’s all her fault that Scott ended up with a total dick of a roommate and Stiles got stuck all the way across campus with some guy who has a girlfriend two towns over and is thus never around.

Or, the one where pledge brothers Stiles and Scott start a prank war with Derek Hale’s fraternity.

Prince Among Wolves by tylerfucklin (Deshonanana) [101k, E]

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by zosofi [83k, E]

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow [25k, M]

He has no idea what you’re supposed to say when you find one of your…werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they’re about to see what your insides taste like. There’s no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

our lives are changing lanes by grimm [47k, E]

There’s a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn’t really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line. Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude’s got kids hanging all over him; one’s on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There’s a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he’s got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles’ mouth drops open.

“How many of those kids did you kidnap?” he asks before he can wrangle his brain into submission.

The man gives him a look that says what the fuck is wrong with you and snaps, “You think I’d subject myself to this on purpose?”

“Oooh,” says one of the kids hanging off his arm. “I’m telling Mom.”

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm [118k, E]

There’s something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can’t quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There’s something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Cornerstone by Vendelin [83k, E]

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

Crash Landers by gyzym [31k, T]

In which Stiles learns to Stalk That Stalk. (Or, how to accidentally woo your unfriendly neighborhood alpha in roughly five hundred handwritten steps.)

an exaltation of larks by llassah [25k, E]

There are times when he feels as if they could fall into bed together, easy as breathing. If Stiles were not highborn, if he were an omega without connections, Derek would be sorely tempted. As it is, he resists. Derek wants, he yearns, but he resists. Still, the sight of Stiles in his cot is enough to test him, even now that it is familiar. At the end of each lambing season, he sleeps for a week, worn down by months of hard work, of relentless struggle. He doesn’t know how he’ll feel by the time Stiles leaves, how he’ll feel after long days and longer nights spent resisting the insistent tug of Stiles’s scent and the inclinations of his own foolish heart.

All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw [69k, E]

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

The Importance of Turning Around Three Times Before Lying Down by otter [31k, M]

It’s like this dog has walked out of all of Stiles’ childhood dreams and into the real world just because Stiles wanted it hard enough. He is the most awesome dog ever, and he and Stiles have a bond. A deep, unbreakable bond because this animal is his soul mate, obviously. Now he just has to convince the dog of that.

A Strong Heart and a Nerve of Steel by lupinus, uraneia [21k, E]

Stiles and Derek wake up married in Vegas. Well, they would have if it was legal.

In which Stiles is the president’s son, Derek is his bodyguard, and Papa President orders them to pretend to be in love for the sake of gay rights.

Or in which uraniea and lupinus combine meeting the Hales, President Papa, waking up married, fake/pretend relationship, First Boy Stiles, and bodyguard Derek into one fic.

When You Wish Upon a Dragon by lupinus [13k, T]

Stiles is at the Hale house, lounging on the front stoop watching Isaac, Erica, and Boyd wrestle, when the baby comes running out of the woods.Derek becomes instant father to a magically appearing baby and falls in love. Stiles can’t take the cute and worries Derek’s heart will break if he loses the kid.

Stiles’s Story Time by trilliath [125k, E]

Where Stiles is a librarian who is in charge of the kids’ reading hour and such. And Derek is 6-year-old Scott’s adoptive dad. And Stiles has his own take on Stories and Scott loves wolves and Derek tries not to admit that he likes the way Stiles’s face looks in those glasses.Or something like that.

Stilinski’s Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain [35k, T]

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

—

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Not According to Plan by exclamation [67k, M]

Alternate Universe. All Stiles had planned was a night at a new club to have some fun. Instead, he finds himself dealing with the owners of the club, who keep sniffing him and asking about his alpha, whatever the hell that means. Taken prisoner, Stiles is flung into a world of werewolves and territory disputes.

He knows his dad will be looking for him. In the meantime, he must survive being the prisoner of Derek Hale.

Camaro '68 by ZainClaw [17k, E]

Derek huffs, arching one eyebrow. "I’m not a fugitive.”

“You look like a fugitive,” Stiles insists, practically beaming. “Maybe you should start wearing cardigans.”

In which Stiles is a hitchhiker and Derek a runaway whose paths cross at a gas station in the California desert.

Burning Glances (Turning Heads) by Yiichi [28k, NR]

Stiles is a lower-class tailor, who has always dreamed of attending the fabled, annual Hale ball. His good friend, Lord McCall, somehow managed to procure an extra invite.

Stiles doesn’t expect anything of the evening. He certainly doesn’t expect to capture the gaze of a dark, mysterious stranger wearing a wolf mask.

The Price by theroguesgambit [18k, M]

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill [32k, T]

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn’t step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That’s easy as pie, right? Right?

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla) [149k, E]

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar [18k, E]

It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.

Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone’s a werewolf, and everyone’s alive.)

Play It Again by metisket [63k, T]

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

“Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

By The Hour by janonny [16k, NR]

The one where Stiles thought Derek was a hooker who needed feeding, and Derek thought Stiles was interested in him.

Not As Described by Febricant [81k, M]

Stiles may have made a huge mistake.

Find It In Our Hearts by Regann [103k, T]

Kate Argent had a lot of secrets, some of which she took to the grave. When one of them shows up on Chris Argent’s doorstep in the form of Kate’s five-year-old daughter, it’s not long before more to come to light – namely, that Kate’s crimes against Derek Hale didn’t begin and end with the murder of his family. It’s no surprise that as soon as Derek learns about his daughter’s existence, he decides that nothing will keep him from claiming the only family he still has in the world. Stiles finds himself firmly in the middle of the Hale-Argent family drama, slowly growing more certain of his feelings for Derek and ever more sure of the inevitable heartbreak they’ll bring.

(not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit [33k, E]

“There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you.”

Stiles knows it’s wrong, but he’s been Fantasizing about Derek and he can’t bring himself to stop. Derek doesn’t know who’s taken an interest in him, but he’s enjoying it way more than he probably should.

All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by morganoconner [28k, T]

It’s not a gender identity crisis if you’ve known all along what the problem is. If you’ve been purposely trying to ignore it since you were old enough to consciously make that choice.

But what happens after that, when you finally learn how to let go?

Hunger For Your Touch by WhoNatural [42k, E]

“I got you, my dad, a gorgeous home… a freaking cat… Guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

It does.

A Desperate Arrangement by mikkimouse [115k, E]

“I’m sorry, I believe there’s something wrong with my hearing,” Stiles said. “Because I could have sworn you just told me you set up a betrothal agreement with the Hales. A betrothal agreement involving me. Me.”

Scott smiled his easygoing smile and nodded, which told Stiles no, he hadn’t misheard a damn thing.

After seven years of lengthy negotiations, the treaty between the Hales and the Argents has fallen apart and the two countries fell into war.

Months later, there’s an uneasy truce, thanks to the intervention of King Scott McCall, but it won’t last. In a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, the Hales sign a treaty with the McCalls to marry Prince Derek to Prince Stiles Stilinski, King Scott’s brother.

In the history of the world, there have been many better ideas.

Beauty and the Ex by aggybird [26k, M]

Stiles doesn’t want to screw up his chances with Josh, so he does something he may regret: he goes to Derek Hale, Josh’s intimidating ex-boyfriend, for dating advice.

Things don’t go according to plan. But with a little magic (and werewolves) they might go all right.

Tiny Houses by ohmyjetsabel [77k, E]

“So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it.”

Hemingway Can Suck It by KuriKuri [10k, T]

“For those of you who just transferred into this class or simply decided that day one wasn’t important enough to attend, I’m Professor Hale. Welcome to English 346, The American Novel.”

Stiles is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open right now and that his eyes are wide with shock, because holy fuck, he thinks he knows why his students transferred. Hell, if he was still an undergrad, he probably would have transferred, too.

(Or: In which Stiles is a Biology professor and Derek thinks he’s a student.)

With or Without You by KouriArashi [62k, T]

Derek thinks that the mating rituals are overly romanticized bullshit, but claiming a mate and defending them from challengers is something werewolves do, and his pack can’t afford to appear weak after the fire. Especially not when Deucalion and his friends are in town for the rituals. Enter Stiles Stilinski, who offers to let Derek claim him so he won’t be overrun at the ceremonies. Nothing goes as expected.

Specialized Technical Intelligence and Logistics for Earth and Space (S.T.I.L.E.S) by Yiichi [73k, NR]

“What the hell kind of a name is Stiles?” he asked.

“You know, a series of sounds spoken in a particular sequence that represent my identity, primarily, referring to me?“ the AI – Stiles – answered cheekily, crossing his own arms in front of his chest, mirroring Derek’s position.

“Ooh, this one’s feisty,” Peter smirked.

Someone Else’s Dream by theroguesgambit [36k, T]

Post-finale. Derek has gone missing, and Stiles’ dreams might be the only way to save him.

Caged Humanity by Ember [55k, E]

The other factors sounded like complete bullshit. Like about Companions having certain dispositions for submission, and a personality built around wanting to please. Fuck that, Stiles was a strong independent man who didn’t need no wolf. Submitting was straight up taught in classes. Don’t talk back, try to reason not argue, never run away when your Mate was in heat. Mate? More like owner. There was a reason Companions were called pets. God Stiles hated it all, the hypocrisy. It was an honor? More like a life sentence.

An AU where werewolves are given humans as pets called Companions, and a very begrudging Stiles is taken in by Derek Hale, much to both their displeasure. And then pleasure. Very, very sexual pleasure.

Come with Me and Walk the Longest Mile by DevilDoll [39k, E]

“Stiles shouldn’t accept rides from werewolves he meets behind abandoned convenience stores.” In which the zombie apocalypse is just one of their worries.

[Sleep]Walking After You by relenafanel [56k, M]

Derek is a sleepwalker who keeps wandering into his downstairs neighbour’s bedroom.

Stiles is pretty sure the hot guy from the park is going to kill him in his sleep. He knows he shouldn’t have been so obvious about objectifying the guy’s really fine ass.

Too bad it turns out Derek is easier to get along with when he’s sleeping.

Say Something by orphan_account [49k, M]

That first time Stiles decided it was probably wise to let sleeping werewolves lie.

There’s Monsters at Home by calrissian18 [83k, E]

“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many.

The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”

Derek despised him.

To Feel Your Heart as It’s Keeping Mine by Vendelin [8k, T]

Stiles and Derek have been dating for four months, when Derek gets in an accident and loses all his memories from the past year and a half. Now, he’s once again the Derek Stiles used to despise, and even worse, Derek thinks that he still hates Stiles’ guts.

Pack Up; Don’t Stray by the_deep_magic [55k, E]

AU – Werewolves are an enslaved underclass, collared and tagged by human masters. Detective Stilinski’s on duty the night they bring in an untagged stray.

Occam’s Razor by MissAnnThropic [49k, E]

When Stiles goes to sleep, he’s a junior in high school. He wakes up in a world where he’s twenty-four and married to Derek Hale. Stiles just can’t seem to catch a break.

Stepping Off the Razor’s Edge by MissAnnThropic [25k, E]

After the events of season 3b, the group in Beacon Hills graduate high school and move on with their lives… everyone except Stiles and Derek. Beset by their demons, they decide they need to get away for a while to clear their heads. Cue the road trip. (companion piece to “Occam’s Razor” but can be read alone)

The Only Exception series by alisvolatpropiis [3 works, 37k]

Tabula Rasa by andavs [36k, T]

The Sheriff shifted, beer in hand, immediately wary of the pair of werewolves on his porch.

“Good evening, Sheriff.” Scott greeted, with an uncomfortable and forced smile.

“Good evening, Scott.” Sheriff Stilinski returned patiently, playing along. “Anything I can help you with?” He didn’t look like he actually wanted an answer, which was fair because they rarely saw him when someone wasn’t on the verge of being arrested or dead.

“This is probably going to sound really weird, but I promise I’m being completely serious.” The Sheriff nodded for him to continue, almost looking pained. “Do you have a son, by any chance?”

“Excuse me?”

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter [51k, M]

Stiles finds a baby on the porch.

It looks exactly like him.

Well, this is awkward.

Don’t Speak by fatale [68k, T]

The Alpha pack has systematically attacked Stiles and his friends for months, testing their strengths and weaknesses. When one of the Alphas goes after Stiles, he awakens in the hospital and realizes that something’s wrong. Very wrong. All sounds seem to hurt him, he can’t understand what anyone is saying, and when he tries to speak, it’s gibberish. How is he supposed to deal with the fact that he’s lost the ability to communicate with his dad and his friends?

Without his ability to talk, his sarcasm, and his wit, what does Stiles even have left? Enter Derek, the only one who seems to make it better.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit [18k, T]

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That’s… huh.

–

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

the broken radio is playing suicide by decideophobia [73k, E]

Stiles only wishes they could actually be safe. They haven’t been for nine months now. 

Sell Your Body to the Night by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [121k, E]

“No,” he repeated impatiently. “I’m not a cop. I’m someone who wants to exchange my money for your sexual services. I was told you were in that line of work.”

“I, uh, yeah, sorry,” Stiles said. He glanced around again and then up–the full moon was almost directly overhead. Just one of those nights, maybe. “Yeah, I am. I do that.”

But Then What… by Stoney [24k, E]

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He’s someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn’t like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn’t attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

a mountain to climb by grimm [126k, E]

“Don’t do it,” he mutters. “Don’t do it, please, don’t do it.”

But there it is, a soft pink line appearing right next to the control. Stiles’ legs give out from under him; he sinks to the bathroom floor, hands shaking, his entire body shaking. It’s hard to breathe, his vision blurring around the edges. There’s a knock on the door behind him and then it opens and Scott sits down next to him.

“I’m fucked,” Stiles gasps, tears prickling at his eyes. “I’m fucked!”

Birds of a Feather Fuck Together by calrissian18, maichan808 (maichan) [26k, E]

Laura is a crusader without a cause, Stiles dances like the whole world’s betrayed him and Derek’s having trouble getting both feet outside his door.

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter [61k, E]

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack’s property.Humans are supposed to be extinct.But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

A Devotion by TroubleIWant [77k, M]

There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes.

A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.”

Or: A medieval AU that’s a little Princess Bride, a little bit more game of Thrones, and a healthy side-serving of gay erotica.

Amor Fati by alocalband [42k, E]

When Stiles gets thrown into the bank vault about twenty minutes after him, Derek isn’t even surprised.

As it turns out, neither is Stiles.

Not Quite Lost (Not Quite Found) by alocalband [25k, E]

A year after the nogitsune is defeated, Derek is living a quiet life in the mountains above a small town in Colorado.

Then Stiles shows up.

’Till You Make It by standinginanicedress [46k, M]

“I’m saying – let’s fake it.”

Derek blinks at him. Hard. Stiles never knew that someone could physically make a blink look hard, but there Derek goes, slamming his lids together like he’s fucking exercising them. “Fake it.”

“Pretend, dumbass,” he backhands Derek lightly on his upper arm. “Pretend like we’re doing as well as our parents want us to and then they’ll be off our backs, right?”

“We don’t have to pretend anything, Stiles,” Derek says evenly, in a tone that suggests he’d much rather be yelling. “We’re literally soulmates.”

“That’s the beauty of it! It’s going to be so fucking easy. I can’t believe we never thought of this before,” he runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head in amazement, grinning from ear to ear. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just solved all our problems for us, man.”

Kindred Spirits by Stoney [104k, E]

Anne of Green Gables/Teen Wolf AU. [ You do not have to know AoGG to follow this fic, it would only enhance the reading experience. :D ]Essentially the world of Teen Wolf set in the late 1890s, with themes and some minor character names/places specifically borrowed from Anne’s world (and no disrespect meant to LM Montgomery, because I love Anne Shirley to bits and pieces.)

Stiles is the adopted son of the Sheriff, brought to Beacon Hills to hopefully stay for good. A family, a best friend, school, Jackson as Josie Pye (because who else could he be?) and the mystery of a dark haired, green-eyed boy which leads Stiles to discovering a secret within himself.

Monsters in the Woods by Omni [12k, E]

Once upon a time, there was a young man in a red hood. He traveled with a long-poled axe, and delivered Justice to the land. He came upon a town that was plagued by horrible monsters. But these monsters weren’t the wolves with glowing eyes, or the woman who wailed and cried. They weren’t even the demon with venomous claws. No, these monsters were something far, far worse.

King of the Road by Stoney [30k, E]

Derek sees the guy–all long lines, furtive glances, hungry–leaning against the diner out in the middle of nowhere. Yeah, Derek’s hungry, too.

tide pulls from the moon by paintedrecs [45k, M]

When Derek left Beacon Hills, finally ripping the tether free and remembering how to breathe, how to live again, it was Stiles who came after him. Stiles, who showed up at his door with blazing eyes, looking like he wanted to punch him in the face, but wrapping his arms around him instead, making him grunt in surprise at the raw strength of his embrace.

“You asshole,” Stiles said, slapping him heartily on the back as he extricated himself, his voice rough under his bright smile. “You couldn’t have made yourself harder to find, could you?”

here comes trouble by grimm [105k, E]

All Derek wants is one day where he can sleep without worry of being woken by gunfire, without the threat of death hanging over his head. He wants a full stomach and no pain clinging to his bones, no ache in his feet from months of running. He wants a shower, a safe place to put his head. He wants his family, the healing comfort of pack. He’ll never have any of that again.

Run To You by Emela [31k, M]

A witch casts a spell, turning Derek feral and leaving him the equivalent of a frightened puppy. Stiles is the only one he trusts to protect him and of course, Stiles is only too happy to help. (Which has nothing to do with all these feelings he’s suddenly having, okay? Derek’s just a really cute werewolf puppy.)

nothing ever promised tomorrow today by preromantics [11k, T]

Grocery shopping, waking up, lasagna, and parallel universes. / When Stiles jumps the last two stairs and turns into the kitchen he’s got his mouth halfway open around “Morning, Mom,” before his dad folds down his paper at the kitchen table to look at him.

In a Straight Line Down by standinginanicedress [40k, T]

“So you want to go to Prom with me just so you can get a plastic crown and a fifty dollar gift card to Outback Steakhouse.”

Stiles sets his jaw. He wants to go to prom with Derek because he wants to go to prom with Derek. But, of course, he’s stubborn and prideful and can’t admit to Derek how it’s barely been twelve hours since they officially broke up and he’s already barely handling it as it is, so he just raises his chin in the air and says, “yes.”

The Circus at the End of the World by mikkimouse [91k, E]

Three hundred years ago, the world ended not with a bang or a whimper, but with magic.

Since then, magic has been outlawed, and the world has clawed its way back to some kind of stability, with people and shifters alike divided between living within the walled safety of the Havens, or the small, less protected outposts dotting the frontier.

Derek Hale and his sisters, Laura and Cora, are the proprietors of Hale’s Circus of Magic, Monsters, and Mystical Wonders, known colloquially as the Circus at the End of the World. They and their ragtag pack ride the rails between the outposts and the Havens, performing for those who can pay (and some who can’t). Their circus is a small haven in and of itself, a place of safety for those who have nowhere else to go.

It’s a quiet life…until Stiles Stilinski joins the crew.

The circus has something Stiles needs—a ticket into the Haven of Santa Francesca. His father has been abducted, and Stiles is determined to get him back no matter what he has to do.

But Stiles has another secret, one that puts him and every member of the circus in danger. And if he’s not careful, it could get them all killed.

The Silent Fury by andavs, rosepetals42 [31k, M]

Derek is about to leave, content with the smell of blood as proof that the Fury is dead when he hears it.

A heartbeat.

It’s faint and uneven and even with its help, it takes Derek a full minute of scanning the clearing before he finally spots the small heap that must be the human. It’s down on the far side of the canyon, almost completely hidden by a tall oak tree and–Derek jumps down before he thinks about it.

He knows what he has to do. Furies are dangerous. Furies are fire and smoke and a funeral he barely remembers. He lands almost silently and makes sure his hands are fully shifted into claws and then slowly moves forward.

Pack Wars by miss_aphelion [158k, M]

Scott liked to call it the Great Pack Divide of 2012.

Derek liked to call Scott an idiot.

(Or the one where Derek kidnaps Stiles to teach Scott a lesson, and ends up learning a few things himself)

Leaving Paradise by NARKOTIKA [43k, E]

A boy dreams of freedom, a broken man finds home, and they learn to love in a world where it feels more impossible than water falling from the sky.

These Woods Sigh by blacktofade [80k, E]

Derek and Stiles never plan to start a family together, it just happens. Or, the one where Derek accidentally wishes for a baby.

The Pull of the Tide by miss_aphelion [27k, T]

Stiles appears alone at the doors of the emergency room the morning after the full moon, covered in blood with a deep slash torn across his left side. He’s suffering from hypovolemic shock and barely conscious and he won’t tell anyone what happened—not his hospital appointed psychiatrist, not his father. Not even his pack.

The list of suspects is disconcertedly short. There were only seven others in the woods with Stiles that night: Derek, Scott, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Jackson and Allison. And none of them remember the night in quite the same way.

(Sacred) In the Ordinary by idyll [78k, E]

The Pack, after college, graduate school and the starting of careers, comes back to Beacon Hills. Nothing’s gotten less complicated after all this time.

In Other Words, Baby, Kiss Me by primroseshows [61k, E]

Stiles has simple goals in life. To successfully complete his secret radar project without getting fired, to get a cottage on the Moon, and to untangle his mess of feelings for Moon Station 3 deputy, Derek Hale. Heck, he’ll even settle for two of the three.

i have always been the storm by stilinskisparkles [25k, E]

“You’re all headed out to Oklahoma in a week.”

Derek snaps his head up, stares at him in horror, “No, boss.”

“Yes,” Finstock insists in a steely voice. “The NSSL have been on at us for a year about some decent exposure, and I think you’re just the team to do it.”

“I haven’t done weather since college,” Derek protests.

Boyd snorts again, presumably because he’s thinking back to the time when Derek and the weather last collided and he…. well, did the guy into the weather for a brief, wonderful, terribly foolish time. But, Boyd needs to shut up before Derek punches him on the nose.

Abominable by Revenant [20k, T]

here Derek buys a secluded cabin halfway up a mountain, meets a yeti and falls in love with Stiles, but not necessarily in that order.

Raised by Wolves and Other Beasts by TroubleIWant [21k, M]

Stiles is 26, single, and unencumbered with any responsibilities. Until his past starts catching up to him, anyways.

-

Derek is standing at Jason’s reception desk, looking the same as he does in Stiles’ dreams except that he’s breathtakingly real, from the two-day stubble to the jewel-bright eyes to the little cow-licks in his hair he always tries to gel into submission. Stiles sees the exact moment he realizes that he can’t get a scent, because his eyebrows flick up in surprise and hurt. In the supernatural community, scent blocking is rude to the point of hostility. It means you’re hiding something.

Stiles has no idea what his own face is doing, but after the slip, Derek schools his into something so tightly composed it seems like an admission in itself. It hardly feels like years can have passed since they saw each other last, except that propped on Derek’s hip, chubby hand curled at her mouth…

Emily. She’s grown into that distinctive Hale coloring; pale skin and dark hair. She has Derek’s hazel green eyes, too. Two tidy pigtails curl above each of her ears, held with red bubble ties.

“Oh,” Stiles says faintly. He’d braced himself for Derek, but only him. “Her hair’s longer.”

I Have Faith In Nights by DaintyBoots [35k, M]

Derek had always thought his ability to pick up strays was a bit of a hindrance. But then he met Stiles.