#did i search for wolf habits? yes

[everlastingdream]

part 1-part 3

"What did you just say?" Enid felt her ears flattening against her hair. "Who's not gonna live past 25?"

"No one", Wednesday deadpanned, even if her eyes shifted to her mother for a split second.

"When did you start lying, Wens?" Enid squinted, trying to stay still even if inside all she wanted was to shake Wednesday with all her might.

"Querida, tell her", Ms Addams intertwined firmly. Enid nodded. Just a couple of times, really. Absolutely not trying to put her thoughts in order even a little. Wednesday paused contemplating.

"Then we'll excuse ourselves, Mother", with a deep sign she stood up, shaking off comforting hand Ms Addams tried to offer her.

She silently walked past Enid, not meeting her eyes, fully expecting her to follow. And Enid did. Like every damn time.

They settled on the bench in the backyard. Enid - restless and worried. Wednesday - rigid but tired.

"Why did you eavesdrop?"

"Don't even try to guilt trip me into changing the subject!" Enid jumped to her feet. "You just said you won't live past 25! And that you were my soulmate! Which is- is that even real? Like, okay, if your mom said so, then probably, but-"

"I said, you were my soulmate. I'm not yours", Wednesday's calm voice shut Enid up. But her friend (soulmate?) still wasn't quite meeting her eyes.

"And what's the difference? If I'm your soulmate, shouldn't you be mine as well?"

Enid told Wednesday many times to show her emotions even a little. But seeing her so sad and defeated was heartbreaking.

"It's not like that for the Addams family", her voice was cold and empty, just stating facts. "Almost every Addams has soulmate. Look at my parents, perfect example. We say, that it's because no one would want an Addams without such a bond", Wednesday chuckled, which in itself was unnerving. Enid really wanted to hug her right now.

"But in every generation, there is couple of 'extra' Addams. This is people without soulmates. Like Uncle Fester. He's amative, but he'll never feel such devotion as my parents".

"So..? I think he's very much past twenty five", Enid croached in front of Wednesday, trying to gauge if she'll allow physical contact. She slowly took her hand, rubbing small circles into her ice-cold skin.

"There is one more case. People who has 'one-sided' soulmates. And these people all die young", Wednesday's dark eyes was full of longing and pain. Enid found herself mesmerized.

"No one lives with their whole being reaching out to person to never find an answer. To see their perfect half happy with someone else. It destroyes your mind so then you can destroy your body in desperate attempt to end your suffering. This is what fate has prepared for me and something no one can change".

Wednesday was breathing heavily, not noticing how she squeezed Enid's hand to the point of drawing blood from the nail's marks.

"But why are you sure, that I..." Enid blushed, giving a little squeeze back.

"Enid, no soulmate of Addams is happy with another partner", Wednesday's oh so rare smile was the saddest thing Enid saw in her life.

[andreal831]

If Elijah had to choose between saving Hayley and Klaus, with absolutely no way of him being able to sacrifice himself for the both of them, who do you think he’d save and why? Let’s pretend in this scenario the one he didn’t save would die no matter what.

No matter what he did, he would regret his decision for the rest of his life.

But his decision would all depend on when it was happening and why it was happening.

For instance, if Hayley was still pregnant, he would save her over Klaus without hesitating. Elijah shifts a lot of his focus after Hope is born from Klaus to keeping Hope safe, even at times betraying Klaus for it. This gives Hayley added protection. Even if Elijah hadn't been in love with her, he still would have protected her first because of Hope.

After she had the baby, it would depend. If the threat was something that Klaus had directly caused, he would prioritize Hayley's safety and attempt to rationalize it as 'Klaus brought it on himself.' But he would always hate himself for not saving his brother.

Now, more likely, because the show loved to torment Elijah, it would be a consequence of Elijah's own actions that came back to haunt him. This would destroy him no matter what he chose. He would have to choose between the woman he loved and wanted to plan a life with and the brother he had been closes with for a thousand years.

I honestly don't know what he would choose, but I think he would save Hayley. She was young and hardly got to live whereas Klaus had lived for a thousand years and had very little to show for it. He would also think of it in terms of Hope. While Hope would be sad to grow up without Klaus, she needed her mother. Hayley was always the one making the hard decisions and parenting Hope.

I'm more confident that this would be his decision in season 3 and later because Klaus would also support this decision. This is the growth I loved to see in Klaus. In Season 3, he began to put Hope and her needs first. They would both understand how important it was for Hope to have Hayley growing up. The Mikaelsons forgot what it was like to be human and Klaus never truly understood what it meant to be a wolf. Hayley would be able to teach Hope all of that.

Also, Klaus dying would have the added bonus of taking out a lot of his enemies, if the sire line was still in tact. This would give Hope more safety, something Elijah would prioritize.

I know I am mostly analyzing it from what Hope needs, but that's what Elijah would need to do because choosing between Hayley and Klaus would be impossible to him. He would rather die himself. So he would need to try and logic his way through it.

I could see Elijah choosing Klaus if it was something happening very quickly and he out of habit saves his brother. But again, it would devastate him. It broke him that he didn't save Hayley when he didn't even remember who she was. So if he had to actually make that decision, he would be searching for that white oak stake so fast. The only thing that would keep him alive would be if Hope needed him.

Most of my logic comes from the fact that Elijah was willing to kill Klaus in TVD for throwing their siblings into the ocean. I truly think he would have gone through with it if Klaus hadn't said their siblings were safe. I know TO/fandom makes it seem like Elijah prioritizes Klaus over everyone, and at times he does. But the fandom also loves to hate on Elijah for "betraying" Klaus and prioritizing others. Yes, Elijah is very codependent with Klaus, but he has also made a lot of decisions throughout the show that put others over Klaus. While he wanted Klaus' redemption and wanted Klaus to be able to raise Hope, he understood that his family had lived longer than they should.

It may just be my biases because I hate the idea of Hayley dying, but I think it fits his character.

Thanks for the ask! This was really hard to think through, but I enjoyed trying!

[sapphicandanxious]

Okay sooo I did a thing aaand wrote down every wenclair moment while i was watching Wednesday for the first time because I think they are girlfriends and also why not:)

Every Wenclair moment

Wednesdays child is full of woe:

The balcony scene?!! And Wednesday telling Enid her story about the last time she cried even though she didn't have too (->she trusts her already!!)

Woe ist the loneliest number:

Wednesday going to Enid to talk to her (twice!), Wednesday apologized to Thing bc Enid said so, Enid takes care of the bees even though she haaaates those to help Wednesday, Wednesday joining the team to help Enid win (-> THEM HELPING EACH OTHER!!) , WWWD (?!??HELLO??? AS A THASMIN FAN THIS ENDED ME!!!) and them going to the finish line TOGETHER HOLDING THE FLAG and also Wednesday not minding Enid holding her shoulder

Friend or woe:

"If he breaks your heart I'll nail-gun his" (do I need to say more)

Woe what a night:

Them almost going dress shopping (and Enid looking at Wednesday at the dance and smiling)

You reap what you woe:

not that much but just both of them not really wanting to talk to their families and talking to each other instead

Quid pro woe:

The birthday present!!! ; Enid made something for Wednesday (in black!!) And Wednesday wants to wear it to a funeral!! (bc it's too special for class and she loves funerals ksnskwnxkskdn) and also Wednesday took it with her to the cafe (yes she forgot it there but that's not the point), Wednesday apologizing to Enid (years, it's to get out of nevermore (like she wouldn't be able to find another way) and also to take Enid along obvi), her keeping the snood on , Enid and her will search upstairs (while Tyler can check the ground floor), her helping Enid to get out first & asking if she's okay,

Wednesday is sad after Enid left her/their room ("Goody said I was destined to be alone, but for the first time in my life, it doesn't feel good":(() , Enid "forgetting" stuff as a reason to go back to their room (more than once!), When Enid asks if she was an annoying distraction Wednesday says she had annoying habits (->not an annoying distraction!!:)), them both remembering many little things about each other (I mean yeah it's the "annoying" things but we all know that doesn't matter), Wednesday is sad when Enid said she's going to be Yokos roommate , "you and I both know that you care about Enid" (she didn't deny it!!) Wednesday misses Enid>:( ! and Enid says that They work:) (as a reason why she moves back in)

A murder of woes:

Enid crying when Wednesday is packing her stuff (helloo??!?) "Will you forget about me?" "Enid, the mark you have left on me is indelible" and her thinking about Enid whenever she sees/hears something bright/colorful, Enid saying learned so much from her,

Enid going to look for her AND WOLFING OUT TO SAVE HER AND SAVING HER, Enid RUNNING to Wednesday & hugging her AND WEDNESDAY HUGGING HER BACK AHHHH ALSO A LONG ASS HUG I CAN NOW DIE HAPPILY, and also Wednesday "has to" visit Enid in San Francisco

[forsettaomeiuvat]

Card Translation - As Thanks for the Bread

Card Story: Lost Sheep

Part 1

Akira: Phew. Breakfast was good. Huh, over there is...

Lennox: Hah...!

Akira: (What fierce movements... I wonder what he's doing?)

Mitile: Master Sage, Master Sage.

Akira: Oh, Mitile. What's up?

Mitile: Um... It's about Mr Leno...

He's been training there all morning... I'm worried since he's sweating so much.

...Master Sage, can you get Mr Leno to take a short break? I'll ask him as well.

*walks over*

Akira: Lennox, why don't you rest for a bit? Come into the shade and wipe your sweat away.

Lennox: Master Sage. I would, but...

The sheep are sunbathing. It seems they want to stay outside for a bit longer.

Akira: Woah, you're right. Looks like they're having a good time.

Mitile: Don't worry about that! I'll take care of them.

So please take your time, Mr Leno. I want to be helpful to you!

Lennox: Mitile... Thank you. I'll take a small break, then.

------

*drinking*

Lennox: Thank you for the water, Master Sage. It really is delicious after doing a workout.

Akira: That's good. Were you practicing for something?

Lennox: I was practicing martial arts.

Akira: I see! Do you practice it often?

Lennox: Yes. It's like a habit by this point... It comes more naturally to me than magic.

Akira: I see. It certainly is easier to imagine you fighting with your bare hands...

Lennox: Haha. Is that so? Come to think of it, when my sheep were being attacked by a wolf, I used my hands right away.

Akira: Eh...! You fended off a wolf with your bare hands?

Lennox: Yes. I did it without thinking, after seeing my sheep frightened.

But I think the wolf wasn't expecting any retaliation... It seemed a bit shocked.

Akira: (That's way too risky... But, that bravery is just like Lennox.)

Bradley: Oi, huge Southern guy!

Akira: What is it, Bradley? Woah...! You have the sheep with you!?

*baa*

Bradley: Do somethin' about these guys! They've been pesterin' me ever since I walked through the courtyard.

Lennox: Bradley... They seem surprisingly fond of you.

Bradley: Shut up!

Lennox: What's wrong, everyone?

*baa*

Lennox: ...What? I understand.

Bradley: You understand what the sheep say? Fuckin' creepy...

Akira: What are they saying...?

Lennox: It seems that one of the sheep went off somewhere with Mitile.

Akira: Eh? So then, the reason these sheep are telling us that is...?

Lennox: ...Mitile...

Part 2

Akira: I wonder where Mitile and the sheep went...

Lennox: The sheep that went missing was a tomboy*. She often goes off alone...

Akira: So Mitile went after her, then?

Lennox: Yes. This is my responsibility. I hope they aren't lost, but...

Bradley: Don't make such a sour expression. Isn't it just a sheep and some brat?

Lennox: No, they're both important friends. Apologies, but would you help look for them?

Bradley: Sounds like a pain. Though, it'd be a different story if ya let me roast the sheep whole as a reward for catchin' it.

Lennox: Sorry, but I can't do that. Are you hungry, Bradley?

Bradley: Hell no! Well, yeah, but...

Seein' you guys so wound up is makin' me hungry.

Right, I'm gonna go get some food off Nero! See ya.

Akira: He left... Lennox, please let me help you look for Mitile and the sheep.

Lennox: Master Sage... Thank you. Let's split up then.

I'll search outside the magic headquarters. Could you search inside?

Akira: Got it!

*running*

Akira: (Huh...? We should be splitting up, but Lennox is following behind me.)

Lennox, you're searching outside, so...

Lennox: ...!

Excuse me, I may be a bit panicked. I'll head outside.

Akira: Lennox...

(He seemed calm, but... Maybe he's actually rather worried.)

Alright. I need to do my best to search for Lennox's sake!

------

Akira: Hmm. I've searched all over, but they aren't here. All that's left is the dining room...

*running*

Akira: Hm, what's this sound? Ah, someone's running from that direction...

*running*

Mitile: Ah, Master Sage! Please help! Please catch Mr Bradley...!

Akira: Eh...? Not the sheep, but Bradley?

Mitile: You'll understand if you go to the courtyard! Hurry, Master Sage!

Part 3

(*"お転婆" serves a similar use as tomboy, but in this case miiight more accurately be just "the sheep is naughty". I used tomboy anyway because 1. I'm not entirely sure since basically everything seems to agree the word is translated as "tomboy" and 2. ...well, I just think it's kind of a funny way to refer to a sheep.)

Bradley: Haha... finally got ya cornered.

*baa*

Akira: It's Bradley and the sheep... What's Bradley doing?

Mitile: When I was chasing the sheep, Mr Bradley suddenly appeared...

He said he was going to roast the sheep! Help me protect her, Master Sage!

Bradley: Huh? I'm finally about to get some good meat, don't butt in now.

Mitile: The sheep isn't meat! Please hand her over right away!

Bradley: You may be a brat, but I'll at least respect havin' the nerve to stand up to me.

Akira: (They started arguing for some reason. Right, now's my chance...!)

*shuffling*

Akira: Sheepy, Ms Sheep. Please come this way. Come on, quietly...

*baa*

Akira: That's right, just like that...

Eh, you're somehow running here with incredible force...!?

*bam*

Akira: Uwah! ...Huh?

(The sheep bumped into me, but I didn't fall on my butt...)

Lennox: Master Sage, are you alright?

Akira: Lennox!

Lennox: She's small, but she really packs a punch... Were you hurt by the impact?

Akira: Haha... It hurts a bit, but... You caught me, so thankfully I didn't fall on my butt.

Lennox: Is that so... I'm glad you aren't injured. And it seems you found the sheep and Mitile, too.

Mitile: Mr Lennox...! I'm sorry for making you worry...

Lennox: No, don't worry about it. You behaved with my sheep in mind, didn't you? That was very brave.

Mitile: Ehehe... Thank you, Mr Leno!

Bradley: Geez, you lot sure are in a good mood...

Lennox: Bradley. You were looking for the sheep too, weren't you? Thank you.

Mitile: Eh? Is that right...!? Then, what you were saying before was to hide your embarrassment about searching...

Bradley: Huh? The Great Bradley doesn't do that shit!

If the Southern shortie hadn't come along, I'd be having roast lamb as a side piece while drinking with Nero by now--

Lennox: ......

Bradley: ...Tch. Talking with you is making me go mad. I've lost my appetite!

Hmph.

Mitile: Mr Leno, you're so strong...

*baa*

Lennox: I didn't do anything, but... Ah, come over here. Sorry I let you experience something scary...

*baa*

Mitile: Wow...! The sheep looks really happy to be with Mr Leno.

Akira: She's leaning against your leg... This sheep must really like you, Lennox.

Lennox: Really? Well, we've known each other for a long time, so...

......

Akira: (Ah, he's a bit embarrassed...)

Card Episode: Traces Left in Bricks

Akira: Thanks for lending your strength to the restoration of the Central town.

Lennox: No, it was just the natural thing to do.

Akira: I heard about your efforts. Apparently even Bradley listened to you.

Lennox: Despite his complaints, he cooperated. With the assistance of a powerful wizard like him, the work went smoothly.

Though, it was troubling when he threatened a child who brought us refreshments...

Akira: Bradley IS weak to food...

Lennox: But he worked well. I enjoyed myself too. I quite like public work.

The children in town were very curious, so I taught them various things while working. How to lay bricks, how to repair cracks...

At first, everyone wants to see your magic. But when they find out there's something they can do themselves, they want to know about it.

Children are very resolute.

Akira: It must be because you were watching over them so kindly.

Lennox: Haha. That'd be nice if so. ...Hm?

Akira: What is it?

Lennox: There's some small graffiti etched into the corner of these bricks.

Akira: Oh, there is... Maybe the kids put it there as a memory? Are these names?

Lennox: It seems they are. "Jean was here"... "Pierre was here"... ..."The Great Bradley was here"...

Akira: He sneaked his name in with the kids...

Lennox: Haha... Nothing to be done about it. Maybe he'll become famous in town.

Home Screen Line:

Master Sage, stay behind me. Protecting you is also my duty.

[bitebackbaby]

Loved your Fox fics, especially the last one! I was wondering if you’ve got fully fleshed out characterizations for the rest of his batch, and if you’d ever write for them? I love the idea of Fox being the baby for once 😭

(I truly mean this without the intention of any pressure but if it comes across that way please ignore)

yes… YES!!

pressure? my friend, you’ve activated my trap card. you’ll never get me to shut up now.

Fox as baby is just way too much fun, especially since I write him as one of the oldest CC’s in general, which means that no one else sees him as a baby lmao, so when his batch rolls up and starts asking fox where his bib is and if he’s been napping enough (b/c baby get cranky 😔) the reaction is just 😦

(info under the cut, as this turned out pretty long lmao)

I have the most info on CC-1009, aka “Vulture”, b/c i have created an entire battalion and separate storyline for him, haha ^^’ but i won’t go into that much detail right here!

(Content warning! Small talk about self-harm below. Jump to the next paragraph to skip it.)

Vulture is a crybaby, and cares deeply about others, but because he has a nasty scar on his face and is a little taller / more solidly built than other CC clones, nobody expects it from him. His scar is gouge marks over his left eye, which he covers with a patch — no cybernetics. He got this scar from an incident when he was still a cadet. After the inital batches were separated into their own training batches (ie, fox w/Cody, Wolfe, etc), Vulture had a really hard time connecting with his new companions and ended up having a dangerous mental spiral. He already had the habit of picking and other tiny, nervous habits, but around this time he had a complete breakdown, and believed that he was seeing the ghosts of dead clone cadets (which, who knows? maybe he was) walking the halls of kamino, so he attempted to scratch his own eyes out to make it stop. He was stopped, thankfully, but only one eye recovered, and he is now blind in his left eye.

Obviously, this incident did nothing to help his reputation, and he was on his way to decommissioning before one of the trainers (an unrelated OC, i wont discuss them here) stepped in and took him on as one of their personal students. Vulture managed to graduate and become the Commander of Battalion 444 (or Triple 4), housed with similarly-disadvantaged clones. They’re the clean up crew, following along after battles to recover bodies left behind and assess damages. Not a glorious position by any means, but a necessary one.

Since they rarely get leave and never close to the Core, Vulture has largely fallen out of contact with Fox, but he still misses him dearly, and has helped the Guard out whenever he could — like when guard trooper Tooka, renamed Rosary, was grabbed by a sentient trafficking ring. Vulture and Triple Four busted that criminal enterprise and returned Rosary back home.

CC-1007 is AiAi, which is short for Aiwha, because everybody gets an animal name in this bunch lmao. It’s also a reference to the AyeAye monkey with their big ol’ eyes <3

AiAi has a mild genetic mutation — they have heterochromia, with one eye being a pale shade of blue. Other than that, AiAi is a fairly average trooper; they had Commander training but not much aptitude for it, and instead shined when it came to piloting. They probably would have been deployed as auxiliary command for a search and rescue battalion, were it not for what happened next.

One of the trainers, an unrelated OC who i won’t go into detail on, was fascinated by AiAi’s mutation, and took a special interest in the cadet because of it. (All of this was non-sexual, in case of any worries — the trainer was interested in taking AiAi as an apprentice, but did not actually care about the cadet as a person, rather than an asset, so these intentions were unwanted, to say the least.) AiAi, understandably nervous and unsure of what to do, put up with their attention and became increasingly casual with the trainer, which they took as an excuse to abduct AiAi from Kamino shortly before he should have been deployed. The trainer was under the impression that AiAi would be grateful for this, and was quite shocked when he protested. Violently.

After escaping their abductor, AiAi wandered the galaxy, unwilling to return to the GAR and possibly be charged with desertion regardless of their willingness in the matter. In a happy AU, he would just pop up on Coruscant after the war to live on Fox’s couch for a while and catch up lol.

CC-1005 is Coyote (pronounced coy-oh-tay), the oldest of the group, and lords it over them constantly. he’s also (objectively, in his opinion) the most book-smart, and is the type who learns every single minutiae of law and policy just so that he can throw it back in your face when you try to argue about him breaking the rules. the kind of guy who would be a great lawyer, but because clones don’t have rights, he goes for the next best thing — Coyote is a medic.

He is well aware of the power structures in place on Kamino, and figured that this was his best way to take advantage of them. by sucking up to the right people, appearing eager and helpful (but not too much, which becomes suspicious), and being willing to bury his pride in an unmarked grave when necessary, Coyote has steadily climbed the ladder in Kamino’s medical community, which is rather more sparse than the bioengineering department. Despite taking leadership training with the other CCs, he continued with the medic track and stayed on Kamino after deployment as the lord of his castle.

Now, does he use that privilege and expertise to help his fellow troopers? …Sometimes. Usually. If he feels like it. Coyote, frankly, just has a mean personality and rarely does anything for free — his batchmates are the sole exceptions. they get discounts <3

There should be six other members of Fox’s batch. One of the clones was not viable upon being decanted, but the other five survived. I tend to shift what happened to them based on the story I’m trying to tell, but I generally keep it as all of them flunking out of training — whether that leads to decommissioning or not depends on how nasty im feeling lmao. This leads into the issues that the rest of the batch have, including Fox’s need to be In Control and always the best, strongest, most competent clone around — because he’s seen, five times over, what happens to those who can’t keep up. It’s an impossible standard, because this whole damn thing is a plot built by a sith to encourage as much suffering as possible, but Fox is just doing his best.

luckily, despite it all, he still has three batchers who love him dearly <3

thanks for asking, and thanks for reading!! quite a rant here, but i hope you enjoyed! and if you ever have any more questions / ocs anyone wants to learn about, feel free to let me know! if nothing else, i love me some exposition lmao

[soulsuckrrs]

The time ticked by as Richard watched from afar the dancing little she-wolf, entranced by her dancing and movements, his blue eyes never wavering from her except for one split second and in the time it took him to search for her there she was, stopped in front of him, beaming up at him like a star come to Earth. His features softened, lips moving up into a smile that held more than just wonder and fascination. There was fondness there and that electric sensation he'd gotten before at the bar heightened just beneath his skin, making Richard want to reach out and touch her, take her hand in his, pull her closer. Make sure that no one else touched her but him. An urge he almost acted on before she spoke and snapped him out of the possibilities were he to forget where he was and who he was representing here.

Eden. Yes, a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman. The soft chuckle that left his lungs was low and very much amused, that sentiment touching his blue gaze as he looked at Eden, taking a step closer to her if only to get closer but also to block off anyone wanting to do the same. The flush of her cheeks sent his pulse racing and that electric feeling to multiply tenfold. "Yes," he said on the breath of his chuckle, tongue flicking out to wet his lips before Richard offered her his free hand and his smile quirked at one corner more than the other. "I would absolutely be delighted to take a stroll with you and taste..." he paused, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth and chuckling again, a slight hint of color on his own cheeks now. "-- your forbidden fruit." There was a returned flirtatious hint to his low tone, voice pitched so only she could hear the last bit of his words.

No one else in the room mattered, not even the person who brushed against his back as they pressed between him and the other close bodies surrounding the dance floor. Richard shifted a bit closer to Eden then, hand still offered to her, whether for a handshake or to accept it to hold, he didn't really mind either but wanted mostly the latter. "I'm Richard but you can call me Richie, if you'd like... or any variant of that," he said with a little shrug, the nickname something his sisters used still to this day but it helped him feel separated from the titles and prestigious properties his name held. He wasn't a young man anymore, sailing across the seas to find adventure and passion, Richard was an alpha, the leader of a pack, the king of a people like had always been expected of him.

But right now, in the middle of this place where duty was supposed to over take his desires or pleasures, Richard acted on impulse, like he always did, something that couldn't be tamed out of him by his Uncle or any of the many noble wolves that influenced him over the years. "I don't make it a habit to come to these sorts of affairs though... I am very glad we both decided to come to this one," he said, shifting back a step once he was able and making room for her to step past him towards the nearest exit, a balcony that led to a lovely garden he had no doubt. He nodded with his head, eyes holding hers before snapping around to spot several watchful gazes. "Shall we? The air isn't getting any fresher here." Meaning he didn't like the eyes on them and very much wanted to get Eden alone.

There were plenty here that did want her attention, a lot of Beta's that wanted her gaze, not that they'd get it... after all her Father gave her stern rules and she hadn't to follow them, didn't she? It hadn't even crossed her mind to take into consideration anything more than the pull in her chest that yearned to be closer to him. The man with the charming blue hues. Another Alpha named Adam tried to feign her attention, tried to dance closer to her, and at one point tried to wrap a hand around her waist but she was like the heat of a fire, flickering around people, weaving a crowd so that she'd disappear and reappear in his line of sight, the sequins of her dress catching glimpses of light that made her twinkle. She shimmered and sparkled, starlight in a crowd.

That was until that little wolf in the green dress had managed to make her way to him, after seemingly playing cat and mouse, her fleeting glances and smiles, the flash of those pretty green eyes but now they were there, right before him. She didn't like how hands had reached at her, fawned at her, slid across her skin in that crowd but what Eden did know was that was stood here, seemingly in his shadow, she felt safe.. she felt guarded and that was a comfort that she finally felt she could breathe in. She let go of a breath she didn't realize she'd held. A soft, sweetheart smile started to tilt her lips. It almost looked reminiscent, of meeting a friend from years ago, like seeing someone admired in your past.

"Eden." she spoke finally, despite knowing she could've remained in quite content silence beside him but there was something about the way she looked at him, doe eyed and hopeful. "Before you ask what my name is... it's Eden." she knew she was being bold, but her friend had told her to make herself noticeable and memorable and she hoped she was doing a good job of that since nobody else at this party mattered now. "Yes, like the Garden of Eden and maybe I umm- maybe I can tempt you with forbidden fruit?" a blush immediately flushed onto her cheeks, her smile widening to show her pearly whites. "That was in fact my best attempt at flirting with you and it was still absolutely terrible." her hands came up to move over her blushing cheeks and she giggled, what a sound that was, honey pouring into the air.

"I haven't seen you at one of these before not that.. well I- I haven't been to one before actually.." she was nervous, to speak to this man she felt such a pull to, the fact she was having to raise her voice to be heard over the music didn't help. She reached forward to offer her hand. "Come outside with me for air?" plus, she knew there was that risk her Father might be there, watching her every move. Truthfully, some of the wolves here scared Eden, she'd heard of their tempers and their violence and that wasn't her. Maybe she should've been more wary of him but something in her soul knew it could be at ease.

[villainessxassassin]

hello hope you're having a good day!

could I request headcannons with Jack with a gender neutral reader that acts like a cat? I completely understand if you don't want to tho!

either way have a good day ^^

did i make the reader an actual cat hybrid or just has feline characteristics? heck even I don't know! but thank you for this ask as we are happy to write it!

____

Jack x reader

A wolf boy paired with a reader that acts like a cat? hmmm very interesting!

He would be very cautious of you at first

People with feline characteristics tend to be quite mischievous, so he has his guard up the first few moments he has with you

but soon after getting to know you more it's easier for him to analyze how you act similarly to a cat

You are quite clingy whether intentionally or not

It always flusters him whenever you'd come close just to bask in all his glory even when you deny it

Similar to how a dog wags his tail when happy, purring can be heard coming from you whenever jack pats you on the head or even when you come in contact with his floofy tail in which you burry yourself in all its fluffiness.

He can also see how you like to poke at him a lot, there isn't really a reason behind your strange want to "paw" at him

it's just a strange habit that came along with how you act like a cat

And to take how you act like a cat to the next level, you even have a strange craving for fish, so you and jack have to spend hours upon hours searching for a specific fish to satisfy your hunger

"No that isn't that right one! Look!

"Y/n, this section sells the exact same group of fish that you're looking for..."

"Yes but look closer! you can see how the shade of this one fades off a bit, but the one I want has a solid color of-"

Yes you are nit picky with your food, but who can blame you when fish can adjust they're standards higher to adjust for your taste instead.

When you can't seem to find the correct type of fish that you want you just drop everything and sulk for the entire day

jack in return will promise you that he'll give you his undivided attention to distract you and maybe bring back the happy y/n he knows back

and look at that, your mood brightened ending the day off with you cuddling and softly purring with a cheeky smile across you face

[nesssblog]

"Why did I click that link?!" (Yandere Ghibli x Reader)

𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

"I should really do my schoolwork. But I suppose one movie wouldn't hurt." Y/N yawned as they grabbed the remote, paying no mind to the ever-growing notifications of the deadlines for their schoolworks blaring on their laptop.

'I'll do it, tomorrow. In the morning...'  They groaned, It was pretty late at night, so they needed a break.

Scrolling through Netflix' assortment of movies, they noticed that their favorite Ghibli Movie was no longer available in Netflix, to their dismay. They sighed, and thought of another way to watch it. An idea popped up in their head, albeit not a smart one. "Guess it's time to use those sketchy websites F/N suggested..." They groaned, reaching out for their laptop with the little energy they have left.

They scrolled through the various links in Google, most of them had a purple hue, due to Y/N's past habits with watching with those sites. They knew very well that although they had the movie they were looking for, they would be bombarded with pop-ups and weird ads in their face. Plus, The last site gave Y/N's laptop a really bad virus, so that was a no for them.

They eventually chose a site that seemed safe, and searched for their desired movie. Luckily for them, it was available. They muttered out a small 'yes!' in excitement, and clicked the movie. Surprisingly, It started a few seconds after clicking, no weird ads, no buffers, and no random singles in your area. Y/N started to watch the movie with a contented smile.

While watching the movie, Y/N felt off. Normally, they would have focused on the movie, but they felt like something was wrong. This lingering aura surrounded them, leaving a sour taste in their mouth. They brushed it off, and kept their eyes on the film.

Their eyes drooped, and they started to feel light-headed. Is this their body's way of saying 'GO TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW YOU LITTLE-' or was it something more sinister? As the movie went on, the tiring feeling slowly consumed them bit by bit, until they fell asleep on the table. With the movie still playing, the laptop gave out sparks, and turned off by itself. A shadowy figure grinned at them, and closed the laptop. A bright blue mist covered the figure and Y/N, and they were gone in a flash. Leaving only their laptop and unfinished schoolworks behind.

̸̩̺̔͊̔͒̉̐Ỳ̷̨͔͚͇͉͈̟̥̝͒̈́͌͌a̷̛͇̱̎̔̿͘̚͘n̴̢͉̭̰̉́͊͘͝͠d̴̲̠̜̮̝͌̀̏̋̈e̶̲̺̪͗̋̽̏͛̂͌̃ṙ̵̹͈̲͔̭̩̭̤̪̣͌̽͗̐͆͒̑̓ę̷̖͓̫̜͉̠͙͂̐͜ͅş̶̼̙̟̫̙̱͇̞͋ ̸̨͇̳͉̦̭͗̓̌̏̏͂͝͝͝!̷̪̙́̓͑͋͠

(well, some of them-)

Howl Jenkins Pendragon

"Careful. Haven't you heard the rumors about me?"

"I'm just keeping you out of harm's way. Isn't that what lovers do?"

Prince Justin

"Ah, hello! Are you one of Howl's companions?"

"He already has Sophie, now it's my time to take your heart."

Haku

"You shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous."

"No spirit will ever separate us apart. I'll make sure of it.."

Lin

"Wait, you're that human who came out of nowhere!"

"Say, you're not bad. For a human, I guess."

Ashitaka

"You want to come with me? No. It's too risky for you."

"You should've stayed at the village."

San

"Intruder! Are you affiliated with that evil woman?"

"You shouldn't leave, stay with me."

Lady Eboshi

" Are you acquainted with that wolf girl, perhaps?"

"Whoever stands in my way for your love, shall be eliminated. I assure you."

Kaguya-hime (platonic)

"You're just like me. You're not from here, are you?"

"I must take you to the moon with me, If it means keeping you safe from them. Forever."

Sutemaru

"Little Bamboo's friend, right? Nice to meet you."

"It's a blessing for me to have met you, now we can leave this all behind!"

Prince Ishitsukuri

"You're saying that Princess Kaguya chose a peasant like you, over me?"

"I will worship the ground you walk on, and I humbly request you to be my partner for evermore."

Middle Counselor Isonokami

"What did Princess Kaguya see in you?"

"No treasure measures how much my heart longs for you."

The Mandrake

"You're not her, and you never will be."

"......."

And we welcome you, dear reader, to the beautiful world of Studio Ghibli!

(i dunno if this'll ever have a chapter 1, but comment below which movie you want Y/N to port to first lmao)

[yesimwriting]

Solace.

SUMMARY: you find yourself going to visit General Kirigan in the night. 

PAIRING: The Darkling/General Kirigan x heart render! reader

Warnings: the beginning of a toxic relationship 

--

The urge to flinch away from and melt into the feeling of his fingertips, too temptingly warm, as he grazes them across my knuckles and up to my wrist is almost overwhelming. When the unexpected contact is something I manage not to shy away from, Kirigan’s touch becomes more confident, turning my wrist in order to expose my palm. He lets out a low breath, if he was anyone else I’d think that a sound of tiredness. He drags his index finger down the back of my wrist and over the lines etched into my palm. There’s a new tension to his touch as if he’s searching for invisible answers in the natural creases of my skin. 

“You could stay,” Kirigan’s voice is as supple and alluring as sin, “Just for tonight.” 

Waiting him in any capacity twists at my heart in a way I can’t comprehend or justify. There is so much of him I do not know, so much of him that’s darker than the inky shadows he bends to his will. “People will speak.” 

It’s the kind of shy cop-out he doesn’t like. The kind of shyness that leaves everyone losing. I can make out the way he pulls his eyebrows together despite the only light in the room coming from a small lantern on his bedside table. I’m not sure if I’ve displeased him. Perhaps I’ve reminded him of why he felt the need to take me from everything I’ve known. Maybe he’s seeing how far I am from what he wants me to be, or maybe he’s seeing the opposite. I’m not sure which possibility scares me more. I’m not sure if I want him to turn me away or persist that I stay. 

“If you’re defined by what people say,” he taps the back of my hand as if to mark his point, straightening and letting the contact between us disappear, “You’ll never be what you want to be.” The tone he uses is one you’d use to scold a child, “Did anyone see you?” 

I don’t think he’s trying to fluster me with potential scandal, but the lack of warmth from the returned absence of his proximity is making this situation a lot less appealing. And without his easing touch, I’m too clear headed to ignore the dangers of this. 

“No,” I try to sound factual, nonchalant and at peace with this entire situation. 

The tilt of his head tells me that none of the casualness I’m desperately trying to manufacture on a surface level at least came off as believable. He takes a partial step forward, extending his hand and casually squeezing my hand, pressing my fingers into my palm. 

“You came to me, little wolf.” I swallow back my embarrassment. It had been a lapse in judgement driven by what...a deep loneliness that comes with being taken away from everyone you’ve ever known? “Why?” 

I wish I had an answer to that for myself. Because he’s the only one that speaks to me as if I am not less than? Because each short brush of our hands has made me yearn to know what purposeful touches from him would feel like? Because it’s dark and I hate being alone in the dark? Because I can’t sleep without seeing every mistake I’ve made? 

Yes. I could attribute my lapse in judgement to all of this. I could attribute my mistake to some other factor that my mind cannot process. Exhaling slowly, I reach for his pulse with my mind, hoping to see if he truly is as calm and steady as he seems. 

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” The words are enough to stall me before I can feel more than two heartbeats. They seemed even, but I didn’t hear enough off of them to be sure. 

I swallow back the embarrassment of being caught. “How?” 

If I didn’t know any better I’d consider the easy quirk of his mouth as an almost smile. “An answer for an answer?”

More generous than he usually is. I keep my jaw as set as I can manage. “I don’t--I’m not sure why.” 

He keeps his face unreadable. “You swore you’d never look for anything from me, that you would never…” Kirigan shifts closer. “That I’d always be a villain to you.” 

There’s a surprising amount of restraint in his words. Had I hurt him? The ridiculousness of my thoughts causes me to wrinkle my. He is a villain, he has to be, and yet here I am. “My insults do get particularly creative when I’m upset.” My attempt at humor falls oddly flat. Kirigan’s clearly not in the mood for a lighter atmosphere. “I wish I knew why I came here.” 

Shifting even closer, he raises a hand. I don’t understand what his intentions are until I feel a brush of knuckles against my cheek. The touch is too soft, too much of a reminder of all the absence...all the places where we’re not touching and the fact that I resent that. 

“When you tap into your abilities your brow furrows,” he pulls his hand away from my cheek and gently taps the space above my left eyebrow, “Right there.” Oh. Such a small thing to pick up on. “Even when you’re not doing anything particularly strenuous--it’s more an act of habit.” I don’t know if there’s a way to respond to that. “And when something upsets you that you want to play off, your eyebrows furrow here,” he touches the space between my two eyebrows. “As opposed to when you’re particularly focused on something and your,” he pauses, thumb brushing my bottom lip, “Lips press together.” 

My stomach flutters and knots all at once. His thumb stays on my bottom lip for longer than it needs to, neither  of us in a hurry to leave this moment. I wonder if he’s as afraid of what comes after this moment as I am-- thoughts of both the potential more and the potential nothing make my heart ache. His thumb brushes down the corner of my mouth and chin. 

“There’s a danger in desire,” his voice is so low I almost miss it, “But I think you know that by now, little wolf.” 

Feeling like a chided child, I dare to raise my chin a fraction of an inch but all that does is press my face into his touch more. “I’m not a victim of desire.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way.” 

So now he finds humor in the situation. Fantastic. “People should know you more for your wit.” 

I don’t hide my sarcasm, but his expression retains all of its easiness. “I guess the ones that matter already do.” The touch of lightheartedness evaporates as quickly as it appeared. “Will you stay?” 

This is different from the first time he mentioned me staying. The first time it was an option he presented, but this time, with his voice the closest to vulnerable I’ve ever seen it, he’s requesting my presence. For the first time I let myself picture it. Staying here. Falling asleep here. With him.

Cautiously, I meet his gaze. “Just for tonight, right?” 

“Stay with me.” He repeats, a bit more certain, a bit more...needing. “For tonight.” 

My body nods once without my permission. I wonder if this is how people feel after I use my abilities on them. That one tiny, unrestrained signal is all he needs. Kirigan angles my head slightly before brushing his lips against my cheek, the warmth of his breath against my skin is enough to leave me melting. 

“I--I wish I knew why I came here.” The words are more honest than I intended them to be. 

Kirigan pauses, warm breath still fanning across the side of my face. “Maybe it will become clearer when I turn you into my solace and my solace alone so that I may be the only thing you can find comfort in.” 

His words are gilded tar, dark and suffocating blackness disguised beneath a thin sheath of gold. “I don’t understa--” 

“You will.” The urgency of his tone strips him of all lazy softness. Something in me tenses, the shift too sudden and cold and similar to the way he was in the beginning. The tension does not go unnoticed, Kirigan fights against it easily, brushing his lips against my skin again. “Lets get some rest my little wolf.” He squeezes my arm easily, the touch leaves my skin tingling in warmth. “Tomorrow things will be different for you.” 

“Different?” 

“Training,” he replies easily, “Together we’ll see what you can do.” His fingers brush up my arm and across my shoulder easily, my breath stalls. “We’ll bring out that facet of your abilities that came out the day we met, and with that we’ll change the world.” I do not think myself a world changer, but the softness of his touch and the praising quality of his tone leave me with no protest. “And we’ll find solace in only each other.”

[nohalosinhell-archive]

He wouldn’t call what he was when they first met friendly. He was... tolerant. Maybe. Maybe someone would call how he had acted tolerant. It took a few run ins and a few exchanges of words before he started to unbristle, and from there... if he saw the guy around, he did make an effort to talk to him. He’d even gone as far as to admit to the guy that he didn’t know why he did it. Sometimes he just wanted to see him... and half those times, the wolf backed into the wall could tell. She could tell and she would encourage it. Why do you think it’s weird that you want to be around someone that’s nice and likes you? Oh! I know! There’s a fair in town. Invite him to that! If you don’t want to admit you want to see him, you can tell him it’s to apologize for that sandwich thing you have got to let go of. Go on. Go. It will not kill you to have some fun, and it won’t kill you to have a friend either. 

Arackniss shakes his head. He doesn’t get close to targets. He’s more of a sniper in that regard than anything. His job is to be as unseen as possible-- and while he will admit he’s never really discussed that part of his job with Pierre... it would be real damn stupid to draw attention to something he was using as an angle. Who gets in close with someone so they can off them and admits it’s weird that they’re getting close? The spider’s people skills are clearly non-existent... but he knows how to do his job. 

He practically snarls at the insult, his quill-like fur growing longer. Just yesterday-- no, fuck, an hour ago he would have heard that and chuckled. He would have chuckled, agreed, and apologized, just like he had apologized for failing to read the room when they first met (although, had he read the room properly... he would have told the guy to fuck off before he shot him in the dick) and apologized for getting him a gift that offended him rather than communicated that Arackniss wanted him to have something special and didn’t want him to get hurt. He apologized for that one a lot. He beat himself up over that one a lot. Partially because he felt like he let the guy down and partially because, as Pierre had just pointed out, he was stupid. He made such a big deal out of searching for the perfect gift just to realize he would have offended the guy less by punching him in the face. 

His shortcomings had always been weaponized against him. If he was incapable, or didn’t understand, or made a mistake, his family did not let him live it down. It was good and beaten into his brain that he was an idiot, he was incapable, and he was a failure and a disappointment... but it took Pierre bringing up their first meeting maybe twice before Arackniss realized he wasn’t doing it out of malice. Once he realized the spider really could not read a room, he didn’t act bothered by it anymore. He just brought it up and smiled or laughed. It was just a joke. It wasn’t weaponized, it wasn’t constantly brought up to remind him that he was a failure, it wasn’t said to hurt him. It was an inside joke that they could both laugh at. Hell, Arackniss brought it up on his own once or twice. He still apologized each time it was brought up, yes, but it got to a point where it became habit rather than guilt. It had been a long time since he had someone he felt comfortable enough around to joke with-- to poke fun at himself with. Pierre had never weaponized Arackniss’ screw ups. Even when Arackniss gave him the opportunity by apologizing again and again for his dumbass gift, Pierre never harped on it. He didn’t encourage Arackniss to keep apologizing for it-- that was his own doing. 

... He must have been so damn easy to read. Of course a con-artist was going to hear someone constantly apologizing and realize he could get anything he wanted if he just kept telling him he didn’t have to. He might as well have handed Pierre a card that says I have a fuckton of self worth issues. If you act like you think I’m not the world’s biggest fuckup, I will give you anything you want. 

... Fucking damn it. He said that last part, didn’t he? When Pierre was joking about taking his wallet. He outright fucking said you don’t have to do that. If you want something, I’ll get it for you. He’d even asked for Pierre to tell him something he wanted so he could get it for him. He so badly wanted to make up that first gift and felt terrible for being too damn stupid to pick something out on his own. 

Guy was good, he’d give him that. He knew each time he said no to those offers, the more desperate Arackniss would get. The harder he would push... to the point that he felt secure enough in trusting the flea and desperate enough to do something right by him that he didn’t hesitate to hand over access to the majority of his money and said get whatever you want... and then didn’t even bother to check and make sure he had gotten the fucking thing back. He talked to Pierre about being alive during the stock market crash and his distrust in banks, and that the majority of the time he paid with cash. Pierre knew it could easily be days before Arackniss went to use the damn thing and realized it was gone-- and knowing what an idiot he is, an idiot who didn’t think twice about letting a con-artist know where he lives because he was so damn sure he wouldn’t do something like that to me... an idiot who’s constantly screwing up and doing things wrong... he would have convinced himself he had lost it. He might have even admitted to Pierre that he'd done it the next time the flea felt like teasing him.

A low growl pulls from his throat at the request. If he hadn't come through the window just to start shouting that Arackniss and his dog were biding time before killing him, then... maybe. Maybe he would have agreed to go somewhere private. He wouldn't like it, he openly admitted he didn't want to be alone with the flea, but he could grit his teeth and spike up through it if the guy made it seem like he genuinely wanted to explain himself.

That's not what he wants. This is his MO: Act like something Arackniss had done had pissed him off and wait the day or two it took for the spider to show up again and try to buy his forgiveness. Forgiveness Pierre gave because each time he did, he wrapped Arackniss around his finger a little more. He was the one person the spider could mess up around and be forgiven... the one person who might not forget what he had done, but didn't feel the need to constantly remind him in a malicious way. This was slightly different. He came to Arackniss this time. Either he realized he played up the anger a little too hard and pushed Arackniss further than he had meant to... or this was the next step: Act angry. Come to him rather than wait for Arackniss to come back around. Accuse him of things he hadn't done on top of that last mistake... and see how desperately he scrambles to try to fix it; see what he'll offer to give or do to make up for screwing up and for making it seem like he wasn't... 100% playing right into this guy's hand.

"No. We can't j--"

His head jerks around when Sasha's tail brushes against his back. From the way she's holding her hand, he can tell she started to reach for him but pulled back because of the quills. Guess her tail has no nerves...

"I'll be across the hall." She says with a saddened smile. He's partially in puffer-fish mode because of her, so maybe if she leaves, things will simmer down some. There's way too much tension in the air... any more and it's going to blow up. "It's okay."

Arackniss growls under his breath once more as she makes her way out of the kitchen and to the door. Great. Now it'll be completely obvious he doesn't want to look at the guy. He doesn't have anything else to look at. "Ya got what ya wanted. Go ahead."

Pierre bristled, growling at the spider. The angrier he got, the thicker his accent became. "Really?! It sure looks like she works for you. How the fuck do I know what you do with your targets? You have been awfully friendly since we met, the only thing that adds up is that you were paid to do it."

It's hard to say if he would have jumped to conclusions like this any other day but coming off of a heated fight with Cherub and a bruised ego from the past heartbreak, it was really easy to think Arackniss was just using him or waiting until the right moment to fuck him over.

Pierre lifted his chin to stop the angry tears that pricked at his eyes. Damn it, calm down, not right now. The last thing he needed to do was cry.

It didn't make sense, it didn't add up. Was he serious that this was all just coincidence? That he was jumping to conclusions and he was just letting everything else get to him? "God, Arackniss...you're such an idiot." He muttered with a shakey sigh as he rubbed at his eyes with his hand. If it was true, then the spider just could not read a room at all but he still didn't trust that he wasn't just lying and yet his stupid self wanted to trust him.

Clearing his throat to stop the choked up sound to his voice, Pierre shook his head. This was a mistake. He knew he should have just cut ties and not try to talk to him. He would have been fine, he could have left it at that but he was already here and if he was going to leave it now, it was better to just tell him what he had wanted to tell him anyways. At least explain why he snapped.

"What happened earlier-" Pierre started then frowned as he looked to Sasha then back to Arackniss, picking at his nails as he spoke. "Can we just...have a moment?" He didn't really want her to know everything about him, he didn't exactly want Arackniss to either but he wanted to at least explain why he had snapped at him, as embarrassing as it was. He hated being vulnerable and the less people around the better. "...Please?"

[flowercrown-bard]

For the writing prompts #14. Can’t make move because other person is a rival/enemy (please!)

Thank you so much for the prompt! So...I'm not 100% sure if this still fits the prompt but oh well, I tried

pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

word count: 5k

from this prompt list

summary: Jaskier finds anoynmous poetry that talks about how witchers are unwanted posted on notice boards. Of course he makes it his goal to find the mysterious poet and make them stop. It's too bad that as time goes on and the poet's verses change, it becomes really hard to hate them (new fic with Eskel‘s POV to this)

content warning: self-deprication, angst

Jaskier was known for many a thing. Some people knew him as a talented bard. Others thought of him only as the idiot they had seen jump out of a window to escape a scorned lover’s wrath. The list could go on forever, Jaskier had made sure of that.

But the one thing, everyone without fail would know him for, is that he was fiercely loyal to witchers.

For years he had sung about the White Wolf and his heroics, but lately, ever since that fateful day that he had finally met Geralt’s brother, Jaskier also sang about a different witcher. One who had promised to show him his collection of old poetry that scholars everywhere would kill for. The witcher that was kind and sweet despite what his appearance might suggest. The witcher whom Jaskier couldn’t stop thinking about ever since they had parted.

Briefly, Jaskier had been worried that Geralt might disapprove of Jaskier writing songs about one of his brothers. After all it had just been the two of them for so long. But Geralt didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he smiled a little wider whenever Jaskier crafted verses for Eskel. In fact, he looked at Jaskier as if there was more to it than just professional interest. Which was absolute nonsense, of course. Singing about another witcher was only profitable. It expended Jaskier’s repertoire and what better way to help all witcher-kind than to spread tales about more than just the most famous one of them?

So yes, Jaskier was first and foremost known as a friend to witchers.

Another, lesser known fact about Jaskier was that once he developed a grudge, he would hold onto it for the rest of his life.

Which is why Jaskier was seething with fury when he caught wind of some unnamed poet who apparently made it their life’s work to destroy witchers’ reputations.

What made it even worse that on the day Jaskier found out, he was in high spirits. He had been travelling alone for the past month and had just heard of Eskel – who Jaskier had been looking forward to meeting again since forever – being somewhere in the area. Of course, Jaskier had dropped everything and gone to search every notice board he could find for any clue as to any contracts close by that could have attracted the witcher.

What Jaskier found instead was enough to make his fists tremble with barely suppressed rage. Right there, in the middle of the notice board hung a piece of poetry on some cheap paper.

That in itself wasn’t too bad. Jaskier remembered well the days when he himself had been too shy to openly present his poetry and had resorted to anonymously posting it onto boards, but this – this was the worst thing Jaskier had ever read. The verses spoke of what it meant to be a witcher, of how life one the Path could look like. Some of the words and metaphors used were clear references – or even plagiarism – to Jaskier’s songs about his witchers. But where Jaskier praised and celebrated, this poet snarled and spat at witchers.

At the very least, the handwriting wasn’t too easy to decipher, as if the poet – if one could call them that – hadn’t had much time to write this. It was a poor consolation.

Jaskier read through the poem again and again, his mind catching on the words unwanted and mutant. And those were the most harmless insults.

The entire poem read as a collection of all the horrible things that were spat at witchers. Not only was it a clear rip-off of Jaskier’s work – describing the life of a witcher – but it dared to twist it into something ugly and loathed.

To make the insult worse, underneath the poem, in the place where normally the poet’s signature would be, was a clumsy sketch of a goat – clearly meant as another insult to Jaskier. Dread pooled in Jaskier’s stomach, as his eyes raked over the lines one more time and an even more horrible conclusion dawned on him.

The poet didn’t just made references to Jaskier’s works in general. It used imagery Jaskier specifically used in his songs about Eskel. The kindest soul Jaskier knew. A man so selfless that he had even saved a baby goat and had against all odds managed to take care of her while on the Path.

And now this poet spoke about Eskel’s bad experiences and posted them openly on the board for all the world to see.

Without thinking, Jaskier tore the paper with the offending poem from the board. It nearly crumbled in his fingers, but he forced himself to keep his hand steady. He would need the poem to ask people if they knew who had written it, even though the thought of showing it to more people churned Jaskier’s guts.

His search ended abruptly, when instead of finding out who the poet was, Jaskier heard about Eskel being driven out of the town.

He gritted his teeth and left the town to resume his search of Eskel. But even as he left the town behind, he swore to himself that whatever he did, some day he would find the poet and he would make sure they would never write another harmful word about witchers again.

-

Not a week later, a couple of towns over, Jaskier found another poem. The same handwriting, the same sentiment of witchers being resented outcasts.

After that, Jaskier doubled his efforts to sing the witchers’ praises.

Apparently, the unknown poet took that as a challenge. Wherever Jaskier went, it was only a matter of time before the next piece of offending poetry appeared.

The poet should have been easy to find. Poets of all kinds had the convenient habit of making themselves known – Jaskier could attest to that. And yet, this one alluded him time and time again. They were impossible to find. For a brief moment, Jaskier considered the possibility of Valdo Marx being the one writing these horrible things just to spite Jaskier, but even he wouldn’t stoop low enough for such a thing. Valdo had his place in Cidaris and he would never become a travelling bard for such a petty thing. Because that was clearly what this mysterious and hated poet was; travelling, just like Jaskier and yet always one step ahead, always out of reach.

There was no hint as to where the poet would go next. The only pattern Jaskier could find was that they always showed up in towns that remembered a witcher with scars running down his face.

For whatever reason, the poet was targeting Eskel specifically.

So Jaskier did the only thing he could do. If he wasn’t able to tell the poet off face to face, he might answer in the best way he knew how: With his own verses.

Every single poem he came across, Jaskier would reply to with poems of his own – pinned to the boards in the place where the stranger’s poem had hung before Jaskier had torn it off. For good measure, Jaskier would also sing his verses in taverns and market squares, just in case the poet would be able to hear him.

When the stranger that had quickly become Jaskier’s worst enemy, spoke of ugly scars in his lines that twisted every smile into a snarl, Jaskier answered with tales of a witcher’s laughter that was more beautiful and joyful than any coy giggles one would hear at court.

When his enemy talked about witchers being alone and scorned wherever they went, Jaskier sang about how wonderful it felt to call a witcher his friend, how loyal and protective witchers were of those they loved – this of course was underlined with a barely hidden message that Jaskier in turn was very protective of his witchers and would bring anyone down who dared insult them.

This warning evidently wasn’t received, for the next poem Jaskier found spoke of lonely nights and averted eyes.

And the thing was…the more Jaskier read those poems, the more he found that they were true. What could he say to disprove those words that he hated so much? He had seen first-hand how people scuttled away in fear as soon as they sat eyes on a witcher. He knew that right now, without his company, Geralt and Eskel would spend their nights alone, possibly hurt and feeling like they didn’t belong.

As much as Jaskier despised the poet for perpetuating the public’s opinion of witchers, Jaskier had to admit that somehow they had a deep understanding of what a witcher’s life was like, even if they used their insight to do harm.

Jaskier didn’t know how to feel about that revelation. Whoever that poet was, he knew. He understood. Maybe even felt the same way.

But that didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

This person was hurting Jaskier’s friends and there was no excuse for that. If he ever met the poet, no word about this irrational fascination would come past his lips. He would make sure that they stopped writing such terrible things and nothing more. They didn’t deserve anything more.

--

There was just one problem…the poetry was good. Brilliant, even. If it weren’t for the horrible subjects, Jaskier might even admire the craftsmanship of the verses.

He couldn’t for the life of him figure out where the poet had learned to write like this. Certainly not at Oxenfurt. Some of these rhyme schemes were similar to ones only found in old elven poetry that had been nearly erased entirely and there were references to some of the poems to literature that had been almost completely lost for ages.

Jaskier almost wanted to sit down with this poet and talk about their craft. Their verses were more expressive than anything Jaskier had ever read and as loath as he was to admit it, some of them brought tears to Jaskier’s eyes with how beautifully worded they were.

It was such a sharp and painful contrast reading those wonderful metaphors and rhymes describing the Path as something gruesome, ugly and hated.

It made Jaskier long for his friends. He wanted to make sure they weren’t alone anymore, that they didn’t have to see only the ugly parts of the Path.

But it also made him want to know more about the poet. Wanted to find out why they sounded so hurt in the way they wrote. He wanted to console and comfort them.

It was an ugly thought and one that Jaskier was ashamed to admit to even himself. So he pushed it into the far back of his mind. This person, whoever they were, wasn’t the one Jaskier should comfort. They were the very reason why Jaskier’s friends felt lonely.

Jaskier would never betray Geralt’s trust by befriending someone like that. Even more, he wouldn’t betray Eskel like that. Beautiful Eskel who was afraid to smile for fear of people flinching back in disgust. Who had been shy and yet excited about talking to Jaskier about poetry.

Jaskier froze and ice spread through his chest. Eskel.

All this time Jaskier had been so fixated on finding the poet that he had completely forgotten that he couldn’t have been the only one who had found their poems. If Jaskier had seen any of them, he would be crushed. Poetry was one of the few things Eskel found enjoyment in while on the Path and this could ruin that for him forever.

That thought was enough for Jaskier to regain his earlier determination. Not a hint of affection for the poet was left in his heart.

--

Except that, as the months dragged on and Jaskier kept replying to the poet’s words, the hint of affection or rather fascination flickered back to life. At some point, the poet had started to respond to Jaskier’s responses. Not openly, of course, but it was obvious in the way they wrote that they were referring to some of the things Jaskier spoke of in his newest songs.

What had started out as a passive-aggressive way for Jaskier to tell the other poet that he despised them, slowly turned into something much different. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he liked it.

Ever so slowly, the subjects of the poet’s verses shifted. True enough, overall they were still about the Path in one way or another, but now the poems about hatred and scorn were interspersed with ones about flowers and occasional appreciation and strangely enough, the joy of knitting. The last one elicited a startled laugh out of Jaskier when he read it and he quickly stopped himself. He couldn’t however keep the smile off his face as he read through that poem again.

Hadn’t this been what Jaskier had wanted all along? It would appear that the poet had finally started to see reason and change the way they thought about witchers.

And now that Jaskier found those other, happier poems, he couldn’t help but see the beauty in their verses. He still kept all of their poems, but now he no longer did so to vanish all traces of them off the earth, but so that he could read them when he felt his own loneliness creep up on him.

Time and time again he let his eyes wander over a poem that talked about the happiness that came with unexpectedly meeting family again that had been longed for. It made Jaskier think about his witchers, about Geralt who had been his best friend for years and about Eskel who Jaskier wished more than anything to meet again someday. And strangely enough, he also thought about the poet, about meeting them and talking about the beautiful things they wrote about.

More than once, Jaskier reached for his quill to put a hidden message about a possible future meeting in his next poem, but every time he stopped himself. He couldn’t do this. Not for as long as he wasn’t sure whether this person had destroyed Eskel’s happiness and the last bit of his already fragile self-esteem.

But then, there was another change, one Jaskier hadn’t expected and that made his heart beat painfully fast in his chest. No longer did the poems speak about vague occurrences of joy and beauty, but of the joy Jaskiergave the poet. About how his voice and his words could make the poet feel like maybe life wasn’t as bleak as they had been told. About how Jaskier’s responses gave them hope. About how they made them feel less alone.

The sincerity and almost admiration in these words startled Jaskier. This wasn’t what he had wanted to do when he had started to respond to the poet. And yet…he couldn’t deny that he too felt a strange sense of companionship whenever he found another one of the poems. As strange as it sounded, but the poet had become the closest Jaskier had to someone he could talk to. Jaskier had no idea where his friends were, but no matter where he went, sooner or later, the poet’s words would reach him again. And damn him, it was nice having someone think of him and craft beautiful verses just for him.

Guilt gnawed at Jaskier’s insides and he wished it would be different, but he found himself looking forward to finding the next poem, always praying with all his might that it wouldn’t be about witchers.

It was nearly autumn when Jaskier found the poem that made his chest tighten with a strange emotion he couldn’t place.

The poem was so full of longing that it became hard for Jaskier to breathe. It was about yearning to meet Jaskier, of seeing his smile and feeling the gentleness of his hands. It was about the soul-crushing knowledge that they would only disappoint Jaskier if they ever met.

Jaskier’s hands trembled as he took that poem off the notice board. He caressed the small picture of the goat that had gone from being a hated mockery to something that made Jaskier smile whenever he saw it.

That night he got so close to telling the poet where to meet them.

The song with the directions was already written and he was already gathering his nerves to prepare himself to sing it the next day, when a sudden gust of wind made the stack of the stranger’s poems Jaskier had kept flutter through the air. Pages upon pages about how witchers were despised, about how they were fated to be alone and how no one would ever be able to see past their hideous scars landed all around Jaskier, accusing him of the betrayal he had almost committed.

His heart dropped like a stone and he forced himself to read through all of the poems again. Every verse, every line, every word that reminded him why he had sworn to himself to never forgive this poet.

When he was done, he stuffed the papers into the bottom of his back, telling himself he didn’t care about them crumbling and tearing.

When he left town, there he left no reply to the poet’s last poem. He only continued reading the notice boards to make sure the poet was still writing about things other than witchers, but Jaskier never responded anymore.

After a while, the poet too stopped writing.

His last poem was but a line, asking whether Jaskier was alright. It was so simple, so obviously worried that it took all of Jaskier’s will power not to respond and let the poet know that he was still there.

By the time it had become clear that no more poems would be written, Jaskier had almost convinced himself that he was happy about never having to hear from them again.

--

Though the thought of the poet didn’t leave Jaskier’s mind, no matter how hard he tried, Jaskier found someone far better.

Not a week after he had severed his connection to the poet for good and was back to performing his old songs about witchers, the door to the tavern Jaskier was playing at opened and a familiar figure entered.

Jaskier’s heart gave a jump and his fingers nearly fumbled when he recognised Eskel. The smile that spread across Jaskier’s face at the sight of the man he had longed to see again faltered, when he took him in more closely. Eskel was guarded most of the time, but now there was something more than that in his expression. He looked almost dejected and he had heavy bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days.

Jaskier’s chest clenched and he had to fight to keep up his happy performance persona. The Path must have been especially unkind to Eskel. Dread clawed at Jaskier’s heart and his voice trembled.

Was this the poet’s doing? Had their words reached Eskel after all and taken away any peace he might have had?

Jaskier’s eyes followed Eskel as he scanned the crowd before his eyes landed on Jaskier. For a heartbeat, something akin to fear flickered across Eskel’s expression, but then his eyes lit up and his shoulders slumped in relief.

As quickly as he could, Jaskier brought his performance to an end, claiming that he needed a break to give his voice some rest. He hurried over to Eskel and practically fell into his arms.

For a moment, Eskel stiffened at the touch, but then he returned the embrace almost desperately and pressed his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’re alright,” Eskel breathed, barely loud enough for Jaskier to hear.

“Of course I am,” Jaskier said as brightly as he could to ease Eskel’s worry and pulled back so he could properly look at Eskel. “Contrary to popular believe, I can go some time without getting into trouble.” He made no effort to try to be subtle about checking Eskel over for injuries. “Out of the two of us, I’m not the one who risks his life every day. What happened to you?”

Eskel stiffened slightly and his eyes shifted to the side, evading Jaskier’s gaze. “Nothing. I was just worried I had lost … a friend.”

Something in Jaskier’s chest softened and as they sat down at a table, Jaskier made a point of sliding in right next to Eskel instead of sitting down opposite of him.

For some inexplicable reason, Eskel still seemed hesitant to touch Jaskier as if he was worried Jaskier might withdraw if Eskel got to close, but his eyes raked over Jaskier as if he wanted to commit every inch of him to memory.

Jaskier scooted closer to Eskel until their thighs touched. He reached for Eskel’s hand and brushed a strand of hair behind his ears while talking about the thing Jaskier had seen since they had last met.

Ever so slowly, Eskel relaxed and leaned into the touch.

What had started as hesitant replies to Jaskier’s numerous questions about the Path quickly became a comfortable conversation, just like they had had when they had last seen each other.

The easiness with which words flowed almost reminded Jaskier of the easy exchange of words he had had with the poet.

He banished the thought as quickly as it had appeared.

He put his attention back to Eskel where it belonged and listened intently as Eskel told him about the monsters he had fought, about the places he had been and about the fact that for some reason, Eskel had been paid in knitting lessons from the very same old lady that had paid Eskel by giving him Lil Bleater a year ago.

As Jaskier laughed at that story and warmth spread through his chest, Eskel too smiled at him. It was a timid, gentle thing, barely enough to lift the edges of his lips properly, but it was big enough to twist the scars. And for once Eskel didn’t seem to mind.

The sight did something strange to Jaskier and suddenly he was filled with the urge to trace these beautiful lips with his thumb.

Eskel must have seen something shift in Jaskier’s expression, for he suddenly stopped talking and his eyes drifted down to Jaskier’s lips.

“Don’t stop,” Jaskier whispered. “I love the way you talk. It sounds almost like poetry.”

The hint of a blush crept into Eskel’s cheeks. “I…I could never write something as beautiful as your songs, but…” His lips twitched upwards and he lowered his head slightly. “You are very inspiring Jaskier. The way you talked about poetry…it made me pick up a pen too, after we parted last time.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. “You write poetry?”

“Not very well.”

Jaskier knew that his eyes were full of fondness for this wonderful, beautiful witcher, but he didn’t care if he saw. He was too relieved to hear that the poet hadn’t been able to take Eskel’s love for poetry away from him after all.

So fixated on that last piece of bitterness that Jaskier had carefully kept alive to remind himself not to contact the poet again, he couldn’t help the next words from slipping past his lips.

“Whatever you’re writing, I am sure it is better than those horrible poems I have had to read lately.”

Eskel froze and his eyes darted between Jaskier’s.

“What…what poems did you have to read?” His voice sounded strangely thick.

Jaskier’s brows knitted together and he waved his hand through the air dismissively, even as his chest clenched painfully. “Just someone who thought they should post their poetry on notice boards. It’s a good thing no one will ever have to read a word of theirs again.”

Eskel’s face fell and he drew back just enough that he wasn’t touching Jaskier anymore. “You really hated it that much?”

Jaskier huffed out a bitter laugh. “You would have too, if you had seen the things they wrote.”

Even while he said it, Jaskier knew that something was wrong. Eskel’s expression shuttered completely and he turned away from Jaskier.

Jaskier’s insides grew cold. For an uncomfortable moment that seemed to stretch on forever, he sat silently next to Eskel, wrecking his brain trying to figure out where he had messed up. Whatever it had been, it was clear that his presence made Eskel uncomfortable.

A half-hearted excuse left Jaskier, something about having to continue his performance.

Eskel only replied with a silent nod as Jaskier left the table to resume his playing. And when Jaskier risked a glance at their table during a song, he found that Eskel had already left.

Uncaring of the disappointed shouts of his audience, Jaskier’s voice broke off and he hastened back to their now empty table to gather his things.

Whatever he had done, to chase Eskel away, he needed to fix this.

He grabbed his cloak and dropped a couple of coins on the table to pay for the meal he had had earlier, when his eyes fell on something lying on the table. A slip of paper with some flimsy excuse for why Eskel had to leave on it.

For a heartbeat Jaskier only stared at it, uncomprehending what he was seeing.

But there was no two ways about it. The writing that now stared back at Jaskier was the same handwriting he had been reading for the past months. It was the poet’s handwriting.

Without a second thought, Jaskier bolted out of the tavern and after Eskel.

“Wait!” he called out to him when he caught sight of him disappearing into an alleyway.

His breath came heavy and his lungs burned from the sudden sprint, but Jaskier didn’t stop until he caught up with Eskel who stood with his back to Jaskier, obviously unwilling to face him.

“Eskel,” Jaskier said helplessly. “I-“

“I’m sorry,” Eskel interrupted and his shoulders tensed. “I didn’t know – If I had known how much you hated the poems I would have stopped.”

For the first time since Jaskier could remember, he found no words. His mind was racing, connecting memories to his knew knowledge and making connections where before there had been nothing but false conclusions.

Jaskier’s uncharacteristic silence must have been reply enough for Eskel, for he half-turned to him, just enough for Jaskier to see his scars.

“I didn’t mean to make you hate me,” Eskel said quietly and his voice was tight. “I am sorry I made you miserable with my poems all these months. I’ll stop. I promise, you won’t have to read anything like that again. You won’t even have to see me. I just…after I didn’t hear from you again, I needed to make sure you were still alive.”

“You didn’t,” Jaskier said, voice breaking. “You didn’t make my life miserable. But they sounded….Eskel, why did your poems sound like yourlife was miserable? Why would you say such horrible things about yourself?”

Eskel flinched and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I didn’t know what else to write about. There wasn’t much else. Until…” Eskel’s voice trailed off.

“Until you wrote about flowers and knitting and family,” Jaskier ended softly for him.

Eskel nodded and Jaskier felt tears pricking at his eyes. “I loved them. And knowing that they came from you, that you are the one who found happiness out there, you have no idea how much that means to me.”

Without meaning to, Jaskier reached out for Eskel’s hand and before he knew it, Eskel had threaded their fingers together and turned to face Jaskier fully. They were so close. Jaskier could see every speck of gold in Eskel’s eyes as they flickered down to his lips.

“Jaskier.” His voice was hoarse and he looked like it took all his strength to say the one word. Slowly, Eskel leaned forward, and Jaskier could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath hitch. Eskel’s eyes widened and he drew back abruptly.

“I am sorry,” Eskel blurted out.

Jaskier’s brows drew together and he tried to follow Eskel’s movement and close the gap between them again.

“Why? Eskel, what could you possibly have to be sorry about?”

An unreadyable expression flashed across Eskel’s face. “About this.” He gestured vaguely between them. “And about my last poems. I didn’t think you’d ever find out they were from me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

It took Jaskier a second to understand what he meant, but when he did, his heart broke for the poet who had longed to feel Jaskier’s touch; for Eskel who had been scared that he would only disappoint.

Carefully, Jaskier lifted his hand, giving Eskel time to refuse the touch. When his hand settled on Eskel’s skin and gently caressed Eskel’s scars, Jaskier could feel Eskel’s shuddering breath ghost across Jaskier’s skin and Eskel closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“You could never disappoint,” Jaskier whispered. “Never you.”

“Does that mean you didn’t mind those poems?” Eskel’s voice was filled with barely restrained hope.

Jaskier let out a huffed laugh. “Oh, I did very much mind them. For so long I had wanted to punch my poet in the face for what they wrote. And those letters…they made me want to kiss them.”

Eskel’s eyes snapped open. “You-“ he broke off, a bittersweet smile on his face. His next words were so quiet that Jaskier couldn’t be sure he was even meant to hear them. “At least I could make you want me as someone else.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side. His fingers slid down Eskel’s face, before they came to rest at the corner of Eskel’s lips.

“Oh Eskel,” Jaskier breathed, stepping impossibly closer. “The one thing holding me back was the thought that it wasn’t you.”

“Jaskier…” Eskel came no further. Before any more words of fear or self-doubt could leave him, Jaskier pressed his lips against Eskel’s.

Eskel let out a soft gasp, before returning the kiss, only interrupting it for long enough to whisper words to Jaskier that were simpler and yet more beautiful than any poem could be.

For the first time in what felt like too long, Jaskier responded to his poet’s words, with the same simple words that made Eskel’s face light up in a way that made Jaskier doubt that he would ever write about loneliness and feeling unlovable ever again.

[sleepsart]

ok so i was looking for some really obscure worldbuilding detail thingy so i scrolled really far back on the pjo tag and i scrolled too far back so have some things i discovered:

about The Quest. apparently shrub was there too? and katherine and jimmy? shrub was on that overlap quest with pearl and grian and gem according to the post and my first thought was that that doesn’t really fit the whole space type theme we have here but yes. it absolutely does fit. cause we have all the wolf pack stuff and the whole thing there was they were all named after zodiac signs and planets n stuff so yayy very cool

that’s actually the only something i discovered and i still haven’t found the obscure worldbuilding detail oh well

I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING SOMEONE . I DIDN'T KNOW WHO.

Shrub was there and did play a role, she was sort of a bargaining chip . Like, she wasn't meant to be there, but Exor was like "HA ! ATTACHMENTS !" yada yada ect ect

Katherine and Jimmy were there, yeah ! I've discussed this, but it was technically Jimmy's quest ! He was the one that pointed out the necklaces. He didn't know Xornoth was going to just grab them, and he didn't know that Scott was going to try to take them from Xornoth because it was dangerous and stupid to just grab random magical items, but the guilt is still there sometimes

Katherine . Has a habit of showing up in disaster times with Shrub. Apparently. Whoops . She helped distracts and separate Scott and Xornoth! She was actually one of the strongest outside forces separating them !! Strong Katherine rights

Good luck on ur search! If you need 2 just ask, go for it!

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Blue Moon - Part 3

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) What’s this? What’s this?! Yes, I have decided to be kind and give you part 3 early! After this, updates will resume as normal, as stated on the Masterlist. ……..Unless I crumble again, and cave, and post early, but we’re not talking about that. *ahem* Surprise!

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 3,037

Xxx

After everything had been cleaned up, and Derek was resting peacefully on his bed, the pack left, giving you a quiet reassuring word, pat on the shoulder, or kind look, offering their time if you needed to talk.

Thanking them, you slid the door closed, letting your forehead slump against it lightly. Your breathing was deep, trying to gather yourself from the chaos of the day. Comfortable silence settled around you and you smiled softly before turning to survey the now empty loft. 

Derek was sitting up on the edge of his bed staring at the floor between his feet, and you jumped slightly before walking over to him slowly.

“You feeling better, champ?” you said playfully. 

His shoulders shaking in a silent laugh, he finally looked up to you. “I am, thanks to you.”

“Pfffft,” you waved him off dismissively. “If I hadn’t been here you would have kicked ass for me.” You grinned as he shook his head disbelievingly. 

“Learn to take a compliment, okay?” His gaze held yours, his own grin climbing. 

“I will, but you see, that requires you to give them more often so I can understand what this new sensation is and associate it with a compliment from the mighty Derek Hale.”

He snorted out a laugh, shaking his head as he stared at the floor again. For some reason it was hard for him to meet your gaze, something that had only gotten worse after today’s events. 

Cupping his cheek, you made him meet your eyes and held them there for a second. You didn’t miss how he melted slightly into your palm as if to seek out more of your touch. 

“Derek, look at me. I will fight for you, the pack will fight for you, but you have to let us. You’re not responsible for everything that goes wrong. The world just sucks sometimes. So do Stilinski’s plan’s, but that’s an argument for a different time.” You both smiled gently at each other. 

Your thumb traced his cheek bone, and his eyes fluttered shut as a sigh passed his lips, fully leaning into your hand. “I know.” His voice was small and quiet, not typical of the Alpha bravado you were used to. 

“I know you do.”

You let things sit in the comfortable silence for a few moments more before broaching the topic you had wanted to all night. 

“What’s going on with you and Jennifer?”

He went stiff in your hold, not pulling back, but obviously on edge. “Why do you ask?”

“I just….” You bit your lip, looking down and to the side as you studied the floor hoping it held your words. Derek’s finger hooked under your chin and tilting your face back up to look into his made you gulp before letting out a heavy sigh. 

Closing your eyes briefly as you gathered your thoughts. You almost forgot them when his hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek bone like you had him, and you melted. 

Letting one last soft sigh leave your lips, you took a deep breath and met his eyes again as you spoke softly. “I just, I have a bad feeling about her. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s something I can’t shake.”

You sat back on your haunches, effectively removing his hand from your face and yours from his. Your gaze went back to searching the floor, eyes darting up to meet his as you spoke, gauging his reactions as you continued. 

“You’re different when you’re around her. Earlier on the phone your personality did a one eighty as soon as you knew it was her, and you practically rushed me out of my own home.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” he said somewhat standoffishly. 

You scoffed. “Yes, I did. You won’t let me leave your sight unless I’m at school with the pack! If anything, tonight proved I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“That’s for your own safety! The Alpha pack is dangerous and-”

“And so am I, Derek.”

He stared at you, no response coming. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you. It’s almost like she’s lulling you into a false sense of security.” Derek scoffed. “Think about it, Derek. When did she show up? What weird thing coincided with her arrival? I have only been in this world for all of five minutes-”

“Five months isn’t five minutes-”

“Thank you for counting, but you know what I mean.”

Silence settled around you both once again. 

“I have barely been in this world, and already it’s showed me enough to trust my instincts, and they tell me something is off. I’m just looking out for you, Derek.”

“Well, thank you, but I can look out for myself,” he snapped. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and scrunching your eyes shut. “I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted.”

Right then a tentative knock on the loft door drew your attention, and you turned to see it slide open to reveal the bit- wit- woman of the hour.

Spinning back around to see Derek’s unapologetic gaze, you held your ground, your voice the only thing giving way. “She’s back?” Your voice was almost venomous.

Derek shrugged. “It’s my loft.”

Grabbing your duffle from earlier as you brushed past her shoulder, you swear you saw her smirk. 

“Where are you going, Y/N?” Derek sounded slightly concerned but mostly annoyed. 

“I don’t know, Derek. But far from here.”

“Y/N, it’s dangerous-”

“So am I, Derek,” you seethed. Eyes leveled on his, he huffed out a sigh. “So am I.”

Jennifer opened her mouth like she was going to say something to you, but you held a finger up in her face. “You don’t get to talk to me outside of the school.”

She scoffed, her mouth snapping shut, and she turned wide eyes to Derek. 

Turning back to face him, you grabbed your set of keys, shrugging on your jacket. “Let me know when your loft is empty again.” You were tempted to say “habitable”, but knew the shit storm that would start.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” He stood up, aggravated now. 

“Like I said, I don’t know. But like I also said, if tonight proved anything, I can take care of myself.” You looked down to the keys in your hand, still covered in his blood from earlier, and you held them up by your face for emphasis, making him close his mouth, drawing it into a tight line as he stared at your wiggling fingers. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled back, fiddling with the keys. 

Looking to Jennifer once more, trying to contain your disdain, you looked back to Derek with a sigh. “I’ll stay with someone in the pack, just to be on the safe side. We still have to come up with our plan for this.” You wiggled your fingers still covered in his blood so he knew what you were talking about without going into specifics in front of the she-devil. He nodded briefly. 

“Let me give you a ride,” he said, going for his own keys. 

“No, Derek,” you let out on an exhausted breath. “You don’t have to come with me.” You parroted his words back at him.

Letting the loft door close with a gentle thud, you swiped at angry tears before they fell and made your way down the steps, dialing Stiles’ number. 

“Hey, Stiles. Can I crash at your place tonight?”

Xxx

“I’ll kill him,” Stiles said matter of factly, rubbing circles into your shoulder with his thumbs where his hands rested, you curled up into him on the couch. The two of you had always had a close relationship, and tonight was no different. 

You let out a breathy chuckle. “No, you won’t, Stiles.”

“He hurt you!” He kept his arms around you, but pulled back enough to look at you. “With his words!” He looked off into the distance, “Which almost makes it worse, because Derek Hale does not use his words….”

“Stiles….”

“He’s like a mime. A very large, very violent mime….”

“Stiles!” you chuckled. 

“Hmmm? Yeah? What?” He zoned back in to the conversation, meeting your gaze again. 

Shaking your head gently with a smile, you snickered. “Just do what I do, and don’t call him ‘Derek’, I just call him ‘Dramatic’.” You quickly turned, a finger close to Stiles’ face, making him go slightly cross eyed if he focused on it. “But not out loud. In your mind. Out loud, you die.”

Stiles let out a loud laugh, and you giggled, fixing your feet where they were tucked under you, and leaned back into him. 

“On to more pleasant matters, Miss Jennifer Blake….”

You groaned, tossing your head back in the process, face screwed up like you ate a lemon. “I thought you said more pleasant matters, not her.”

Stiles chuckled as he went on, “I think you may be right about her.”

You sat up straight, pushing against his chest to look him in the face, jaw dropped in disbelief. “She’s evil? I can kick her out? Kick her butt? All of the above?”

“Woah, hold on, tiger,” Stiles said, snickering. “I just agree something is off about her, and the way she and Derek are, I get heebee jeebee vibes more than usual. …..And not just because it repulses me to see him in a relationship. Blech.” Stiles shuddered dramatically, making you smile and cast a glare at him at the same time.

“But on the note of kicking ass-” Stiles perked up, changing the subject, thankfully- “you kicked some serious Alpha ass back at the loft!” Stiles grinned down at you, and you couldn’t help but look down sheepishly. “I mean, can we talk about the awesomeness of you?!”

You laughed at this, looking up through your eyelashes at him, feeling your cheeks tinge pink in slight embarrassment, but your grin broad with pride. “I was kinda awesome, wasn’t I?” You lifted your face up fully to look at him straight on. “You wanna know a secret?”

He leaned into you, nodding almost imperceptibly, mouth slightly ajar and eyebrows raised in anticipation. 

“Half the stuff I don’t even know how I did it. It was just instinct.”

“Get out,” Stiles said in mock surprise, and you playfully shoved his shoulder. “You mean you’re like all my other ‘new’ friends-” you felt yourself making the same face that you had in the hall at school, now realizing it was a distinctly Stilinski reaction- “and are just inherently good at things now that you have been cursed?”

You knit your eyebrows together, and you both spoke in unison, “The bite is a gift, not a curse.”

“See? I told you. Sourwolf Syndrome.”

You just shook your head at Stiles and rolled your eyes.

“No, but seriously, Stiles!” You adjusted your position on the couch once again, grabbing your ankle tucked under you with one hand, the other bracing your elbow on the back of the couch as you gestured while you spoke. Another intrinsic Stilinski thing to do. 

“I literally did some of that stuff and in my head I was just saying, ‘What did I just do?’ over and over and over again.” You looked Stiles in the eyes, his face amused but serious at the same time. “Don’t get me wrong, Derek is a great teacher-” Stiles let out a “Pfffft” and looked away disbelievingly, waving that thought away with his hand- “he is!” The look he leveled on you, lips pursed, eyebrows raised, head tilted slightly down and to the side, had you chuckling. “But he never taught me some of that.”

“Maybe you were a superhero in a past life, or something,” Stiles mused, his eyes dancing playfully.

“Or a supervillain,” you countered, grinning in a way you hoped looked evil and mischievous but probably, with your luck, looked more like a grimace.

“This is highly plausible.” He nodded in agreement, looking off into the distance and scratching his neck as his head bobbed. 

His arm was braced behind you on the couch, outstretched, and he pulled it in close, scooping you towards him, holding you tight to his chest, his cheek against your hair as he spoke. “Either way, can I have your autograph?”

You laughed, the silence comfortable between you, until it was broken by Stiles’ phone going off on the coffee table. This was the second time this had happened today. You swore, if it had anything to do with Jennifer again….

“Oh, look. The bell.” You mimicked his words from earlier today at school, making him level a small glare on you, to which you just grinned. 

“I was thinking on my feet.”

“Are you sure you weren’t thinking with your feet?”

“How does that…. That makes literally no sense, Y/N. Do better.” He shook his head in disapproval of your joke, making you giggle, as he finally answered the call. 

“Scott, hey, what’s the big-” 

Because of your enhanced hearing, you didn’t need to move closer to hear the other end of the phone call. 

Something about some scuffle that went down at the old abandoned mall with the Alpha pack, he was cut up but it should heal soon, the others were okay, but they think Derek is dead.

Your mind went numb. 

“They ‘think’?” you asked Stiles. 

“We couldn’t get to him, we had to get out….” You couldn’t pay attention as Scott’s voice faded out and all you heard is the short panicked breaths you’re making. 

“Scott, I’ll call you back,” you heard Stiles say, hanging up even though Scott’s voice kept going, and taking your face in his hands firmly. “Y/N, breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“That’s not breathing, that’s hyperventilating.”

You can’t help the slight twitch upward of your lips, and appreciated his trying to distract you, but you just felt your eyes start to glow. Reaching up you grabbed his wrists and screwed your eyes shut. 

“Breathe.” He elongated the word, his voice soft, and stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, still firmly holding your face in his hands. 

“He can’t be dead, Stiles.” You opened your eyes, knowing they have returned to their human color, but now they held tears threatening to fall.

“You’re right, we don’t know, that sucker has been dead to me multiple times, literally, and it never really took. I think he makes it to the afterlife and they just kick him back as ‘return to sender’.” You chuckled sadly, tears finally falling. “And don’t even get me started on Peter.” You groaned. 

“Stiles, I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

“No!” His thumbs stilled as your grip on his wrists tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut again. “No.” You lowered your voice this time, trying to be calm, and gave his wrists a reassuring squeeze before loosening your hold again. Meeting his eyes, you willed your tears to stop. “You don’t understand, Stiles. Scott isn’t a member of the pack. I am. When Erica died, it was just like Cora said- like losing a limb. I would feel if my Alpha was dead.”

“You don’t know that-”

“But I do. It’s like the fight, it’s an instinct. I just know, Stiles.” He resumed rubbing your cheeks with his thumb, swiping errant tears away. “I just know.”

You sniffled, squeezing his wrists one more time and then rising from the couch before he quickly caught your hand, stopping you. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go look for him!”

“It’s not safe, Y/N-”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?!” you yelled in frustration, your hands finding the few remaining tears as you try to calm yourself once again. “This whole world is dangerous, Stiles! It comes with the territory! Everyone else got to go help, meanwhile I was stuck here-”

“Geeze, say what you really feel,” Stiles cut you off, his voice somewhat offended, but his face was determined. 

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I just….” You cradled the side of your face with the hand Stiles wasn’t still holding on to. “We should go look and see, he might need help.”

“If they all left, I can guarantee it was because it wasn’t safe for anyone, and Derek wouldn’t want everyone rushing into a situation like that for any reason, you know that.”

He was right. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but he was. You looked down at the carpet as he spoke. 

“Look, I have that out of town meet tomorrow with the rest of the pack. We will all come up with some solution, meanwhile, you stay here.” His voice extended on the last few words as his grip tightened on your wrist like he knew you would put up a fight, meeting your gaze dead on when you leveled wide eyes on him. 

“You stay here,” he continued, holding your gaze, “and see if he shows up at all. Check the hospitals, the police station, stuff like that, just avoid the loft because they already know you live there and the vet clinic because Deaton will let Scott know the second something happens. I can’t ask my dad to help at all, he doesn’t know anything about this world, and he won’t take me seriously if I ask too many questions. I have no idea why the man thinks I am always scheming.”

“Because you are,” you said softly. “You are right now, Stiles.”

“Just living up to my namesake,” he grinned, making you chuckle despite your tears. 

“When we get back, we’ll handle this, but for now, just stay here. You can stay in my room, I’ll tell my dad you just didn’t want to be home alone while your parents are out of town, and once we get back, unless we call and something has changed-”

“Stiles-” you gripped his face in your hands- “breathe.”

He chuckled, grabbing your wrists like you had his. “I am breathing,” he countered. 

“No, you’re scheming,” you corrected, both of you grinning at the other. 

“It'll be okay, Y/N. We’ll sort this out.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99 What’s This?

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 07

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A philosophical slant, (heavy) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom being absolute hubby material, Werewolf!Jaebeom being awkward and (a bit of a) pervert, domestic fluff, talk of medication, apparently werewolves don’t like to wear clothes (what is my canon...), talk of life and death, mention of blood, mild swearing

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Jaebeom’s POV.

Well, here it is, earlier and much longer than originally planned. It’s also a lot more tragic and philosophical than I intended it to be, but then again, what else can you expect from a tragedian fascinated by the human condition even as it is translated into the realm of the magical?

I think I just thought of the modern literary movement I might belong to: magic realism.

It’s a crying shame the Decadent Movement isn’t active anymore, though, because that one truly feels like a good fit for me both as an author and an individual. Ah well, c’est la vie.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

There is nothing better for a wolf than being with its mate. 

Well, there is one thing.

Having them completely at your mercy as you’re inside them.

I still don’t understand what the plastic wrapping is good for, but Jinyoung was very insistent on using it while we drove to the airport. And Y/N seemed glad I had whatever it is, her scent even betraying a hint of relief. However, one day, I hope she’ll tell me not to use it.

No, that’s not right. There’s a word for the… whatever it is.

A condom.

That’s the word.

I hope she’ll tell me not to use a condom. It doesn’t matter whether I’m in season or not, although the chances she’ll pup are higher if I am. I want pups with her, a little pack of our own. I want it to be our toddler running around the park, chasing its sibling. Then again, will I remain human long enough to see them grow up?

Will I even remember their birth on the day they’re born?

Will I still be here?

Or remain without a family, a proud bloodline?

I slowly open my eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight bathing the room in a warm golden hue, swallow hard and force myself to calm down. There is no use in contemplating this now, not this early in the day nor in our time together. What counts is that I’m here now with Y/N in my arms and we’re in her apartment somewhere.

A faint whiff of brine seeps in through the air cleaner filter above the window overlooking the city. A gull flies by and lands on the roof of the building opposite ours.

Sea. Rusted metal. Right, the old harbour.

A high-pitched noise, a disquiet hum followed by a sigh, makes my ears perk up. I look down at the lady sleeping on my chest, curled up and fingers balled into small fists similar to a bunny’s paws. More importantly, however, she’s perfectly alright and was only unconsciously trying to get more comfortable.

A breathless chuckle rises in my throat at the display. Y/N’s adorable even when she’s fast asleep, her lips parted yet not enough to allow drooling.

I, on the other hand, am another story. I don’t do it often, but I must have been so tired last night I triggered the habit. The finger I swipe over the corners of my mouth comes away wet both times.

Oh no, I didn’t drool on her, did I? Would she mind, though, if I explained it’s a sign I’m comfortable with her?

It isn’t hard to guess the answer to the question. She would beat me over the head, likely with a shoe, and say I’m not allowed to bite her at all anymore. Not even in the future.

In a hurry to discover whether I made the fatal mistake, I check her messy hair but keeping my movements controlled to not wake her up. Fortunately, there are no locks sticking together nor a trail running down over the side of her face.

With a deep sigh, I slump further down into the bed again and kiss her crown. However, I don’t go back to sleep despite the comfort of the sheets. Instead, I lift the lady’s head and gently put her down on the pillow as I get up, carefully calculating every movement like I do when hunting to make sure she won’t wake up or notice my absence in her unconscious state.

The faint smell of burned iron comes from somewhere when I rearrange the sheets to bundle Y/N up. My mouth dries up, throat blocked by something I can’t swallow as a familiar stench disturbs the morning happiness. Former intentions abandoned, I claw through the sheets to try and discover where the rank odour comes from.

Did I hurt her? Is she bleeding? Why is she bleeding? Where is it? Where’s the blood?

As suspected, the frantic search wakes the pretty lady. Propped up on an elbow, eyes half-closed and brows furrowed, she turns to me. “Jae, what-’’ she yawns, “What’re you doing?”

Barely has she asked the question or I find what I’ve been looking for.

On her side of the bed, between her thighs, is a puddle of dried blood.

Where did it come from? Did I… Did I do this?

I grab her by the shoulders and pull her close to check her condition, turning her this way and that as each thought grows more troubled. “Are you okay?” There’s nothing to see on the bare skin of her upper body. “Are you hurt?”

Maybe the wound is somewhere lower, on her hip or leg. I didn’t bite her last night. Right? I didn’t hurt her. At least, I don’t think I did. No. Surely the wolf- I wouldn’t harm her. I had enough control to prevent that from happening. Yes, that’s the case.

But then, with a fading mind, how much can I trust myself?

“Jaebeom, I’m fine. What are you- ah.” Y/N notices the spot of dark crimson when I pull the sheets completely off the bed and toss them aside. She lets out an incomprehensibly careless chuckle, evidently oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“What are you giggling about? Y/N, you’re bleeding!” I bark, lost.

A small paw cups my cheek, her thumb caressing the skin in an attempt to calm me down. “You took my virginity. It’s natural to bleed a little when that happens.”

“Are you still in pain?” Even though it’s natural, surely it’s not without repercussions. Otherwise, the stain wouldn’t be there.

“No, I’m not, silly. I’m okay.” She kisses the tip of my nose when I let out a whine, unhappy with the response. Withal, a curious tone in her voice overtakes my own displeasure. “Are you?”

Why do you say it like that?

She sounds weird, hinting at something I’m supposed to find as obvious as she. Yet, I have no clue about what it can be. So, I tilt my head and stare blankly at her, waiting for an explanation. “I’m fine.” 

My choice of words makes her visibly flinch despite the effort to hide it. The sleepiness which glazed her eyes evaporated, leaving them devoid of the amusement at my failure as a human. The recognizable sour note of anxiety creeps back into her scent, setting off alarm bells in my mind. “I’m alright. No pain. Happy to be here. Happy to wake up next to you.”

I rub her arms in a poor attempt to make her calm down, have her scent return to its spring-like fruitiness. She is supposed to smell like fresh fruit still hanging from the trees, yet to ripen. Not like fallen fruit beginning to decay in the summer sun.

“Okay,” is all she says in response before she pulls away, the absence of the warmth of her palm sending a cold shiver throughout my body.

The world always seems a little colder without her.

“Want breakfast?” A low grumble pierces the silence following the question, giving me enough of a response. And a reason to get my head, no, that’s not the idiom. To get my thoughts ordered. Organized. To get my thoughts in order? To think about… stuff. Last night. This. Everything. “Never mind. I’m making you breakfast. You have to eat.”

I stand up and head for the bathroom to first get rid of the weird plastic wrapping she put on me last night. Having thrown it in the bin there after a bit of an awkward struggle removing it, I move to the kitchen. Nevertheless, I don’t start preparing food right away. Instead, I pick up the grey hoodie I gave her from the bag between the sofa and chair facing the kitchen. I remember how she held it up to her nose, breathed in and basked in the scent.

My scent.

A fragment of last night’s memory.

I remember we had sex and that she told me I’m her first, but afterwards things are blurry.

Smell. I said something about how nicely she smells. Not really an original compliment since I’ve said it a lot already, but I can’t help but focus on it.

And then…

Then…

Then instinct took over because I let it, thinking I’d remain in control even though I let go a little. After all, I’ve learned enough to know how to deal with the wolf inside thanks to the rehabilitation procedure Jinyoung put me through and supervised. Since then, there’s been a healthy balance between human and beast in my mind.

Or, rather, there was one.

I think.

Another boundary to watch out for. I have to keep myself in check. No more experimenting.

Because to do so is to forget.

And I want to remember.

 I stop absent-mindedly thumbing the piece of clothing, drape it over the armrest of the sofa and head into the kitchen to make breakfast. Unfortunately, the fridge quickly brings my plan to a halt, empty except for a pack of soy milk and a tray of eggs. The groceries Jinyoung and I got were only enough for dinner last night and there are no leftovers.

To be fair, she did just come back from a trip abroad. But still, is there really nothing to work with?

I sigh in defeat and grab the plant-based milk to pour it over the apple and cinnamon granola I find in the cupboard above the sink. At least it’s food and drink in one meal.

From the drawer next to the oven, I grab two spoons which I put into the bowls, grab the hoodie from the couch and return to the bedroom.

Y/N sits with her back turned to me, but flips around a little too fast for my liking once she hears my paws approaching. “Jaebeom?”

The terrible mixture of barely suppressed horror and genuine concern in her gaze has translated into her voice, which is cold and calculating. The sour note of anxiety hasn’t faded from her scent, creating a stone to sink to the bottom of my stomach because there’s only one thing that can be a distressing factor this early in the day.

Me.

Withal, the reason why she’s scared puzzles me since I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I’ve simply been me since I woke up.

Human.

Although, that’s me now.

Last night, I don’t know who or what I was though it isn’t hard to guess.

The pretty lady traces the deep indentation in the headboard of the bed with her fingers bent to resemble a claw. “Did you do this?”

Did- Did I? No. I- I don’t know. I was less strict with myself last night and don’t remember much, but surely I wasn’t gone enough to do this.

I hope.

I think.

I’m not sure.

But the reality provides the necessary evidence to repute any kind of denial I can offer.

I set the bowls down on the nightstand and crawl back on the bed to sit next to her. Gently, I nudge her hand aside to mimic her action, my own fingers perfectly fitting into the large gash. “I don’t know.”

A surge of violence shoots throughout my body, triggering the nagging feeling of a forgotten memory strong enough to knock the air out the lungs and split my skull with flashes of a memory. Nevertheless, the fragments pass by too fast to make sense of them and the mere attempt to do so worsens the headache. I flinch and scramble backwards with a paw- a hand pressed to my head as if I can thus suppress the pain. Yet, I remain unable to look at anything but the damage.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, my voice hardly louder than a scared whisper.

“I felt your skin move beneath my fingers last night,” Y/N starts, catching my attention with the timid response suggestive of requiring more explanation.

Exactly what I don’t have since I can’t even explain it myself.

This shouldn’t be happening.

“I think I did, at least,” she adds doubtfully on a shivery breath. The sourness sweetens to doubt instead of anxiety. Nonetheless, it’s still worrying she’s ill… uncomfortable.

“Did I-“ I swallow hard, forcing out the words describing my worst nightmare. “Did I transform?”

“Transform?’’ She briefly turns her gaze from me to the indentation, lips parted in an attempt to articulate a thought that’s dismissed with a headshake the second thereafter. Her attention returns to me, her expression slackened. ‘’What are you- What… No, you didn’t, but you looked far away. Retreated further into your own world, more so than you normally are.”

“That’s good,” I mumble, nodding as I, too, briefly return my attention to the claw mark. “Was human. Good.”

Still, need to talk to the weird-smelling intruder. Doctor. Friend. Name, his name. Jinyoung. Jesus, man, get yourself together. Your name is Im Jaebeom. You’re a twenty-eight old werewolf that- no, who runs a bookshop called Paper Souls. Jinyoung is your friend, doctor and supervisor appointed to you by... by... some organization.

“Jaebeom,” the pretty lady puts her hand on my shoulder, features softened instead of frozen and marred by fear, “have you taken your medication yet?”

The natural fruity undertone seems forced to be stronger.

You should be scared. I might have- I made that claw mark. Why treat me like a human? I’m a wolf.

“Me- Med-“ The strange word barely registers until a spark of humanity recalls its definition. “Medication. Pills. No, I- I haven’t.”

“Let me grab a glass of water and get them.”

She ruffles my hair, jumps off the bed and rushes out of the room. I listen to her bare feet lightly treading the floor as she moves on the other side of the wall, hurried steps going from the hallway, where she rummages in my coat for the rattling bottle of pills, to the kitchen. There, she opens a cupboard to grab a glass. The loud clinking of glass alongside the sour undertone in her scent indicates she almost accidentally caused several to fall out and break on the tiles. Fortunately, judging by the deep sigh of relief, Y/N could prevent it from happening.

She turns on the tab, fills the glass with water, turns the tab off and walks back into the room.

“There you go,” she says, handing me the small brown bottle and water. 

The mattress dips a bit when she sits down next to me with one of the bowls filled with cereal in her hands. After stirring the spoon around like she is trying to evade something, Y/N finally takes a first careful bite. Nevertheless, she starts eating properly after I kiss her temple, which is an apparently effective form of encouragement. I have to remember that. 

Quietly seated in the golden sunlight, we have our first breakfast together. I don’t mind her watching me as I’m taking my medication, measuring out the amount Jinyoung told me to take. Or, rather, as much as the label notes I should. Immediately my gag reflex is triggered when I put them in my mouth, the taste of bitter metal extremer than before so it’s like licking one of the rusted over buoys drifting in the harbour.

He’s increased the nightshade and silver. Damn, I think even the worst coffee tastes better than this.

“That bad?”

“Yep.” I open and close my mouth, nauseous due to the sickening taste lingering on my tongue. To prevent the bile rising in my throat from escaping, I gulp down the water. Unfortunately, it only washes down part of the bitterness.

She holds up a spoon with milk-soaked granola to feed to me, but I turn it down and shake my head. I might actually throw up if I eat anything right now. 

Disappointment flashes across her face, though it’s gone in an instant as she puts her bowl down and stands up. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“But... food,” I meekly offer and point at the half-empty bowl on the nightstand. She should put herself before me. 

Because I’ll be fine.

“We’re missing something important. Coffee,” the bunny-like lady playfully responds before she bounces off again to the kitchen.

The pleasant and slightly sweet scent of instant cappuccino warms the apartment, replacing the sharp scent of frozen water alluding to hail later on in the day. It’s a little early in the year, but soon the first snows will fall.

Hopefully, she’ll move before then so we can spend Christmas in her cottage. Although, it doesn’t even have to be the holidays. I’d light a fire, drape a blanket over our shoulders and keep Y/N close to warm her with mine as we read and look at the snowfall.

Like a snowflake falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling before our eyes, so we pass through life. At this rate, I think the next snowfall might be the last I’ll see.

Consciously.

Meaningfully.

Like a human.

The snowflake will faintly fall on the man I am, descend on the husk I’m becoming, while she will continue living.

Without me.

The living and the dead.

I smile wistfully until the same shot of pain treks through me as when I tried to fill in the gaps of the fragmented memory. Folded in on myself, cold sweat on my skin and short of breath, I press my palms against my snout to push the agony away.

The pained groaning must have alarmed the pretty lady because she rushes to my side and pushes one of the mugs in her little paws… hands in mine. “Here, take a sip. The caffeine will help.”

As told, I nip at the hot beverage. Indeed, the cappuccino lessens the headache and cold shivers that ran down my spine and threatened to spread. Though I dislike instant coffee, it actually tastes good when she prepares it. I sigh in relief, blow on the coffee to cool it down, and slowly drink it while Y/N caresses my jaw and ear just the way I like it. At the same time, she comforts me with her soothing voice, murmuring words of solace and assurance as she sits down next to me again. 

I could listen to you all day. Maybe I should ask you to read to me sometime. Although, not maybe. I’ll ask it later. Note to self, write a note on your phone to ask her to read to you. Also, make note of kissing her temple.

My reverie is broken up by a comment which rubs me the wrong way. “I have to go to the office later today-’’

“Already? You just got home.”

“They’re counting on me, Jae. Besides, I’m not that jet-lagged.”

“It’s not healthy. You should stay home. Rest,” I bark. Her eyes widen, taken aback by my bluntness.

She opens and closes her mouth, planning to say something yet deciding against it. Instead, she tugs my ear. “I’ll be fine. And you have your shop to look after, so let’s both work hard today.”

“Still,” I take another sip, “I don’t think you should go.”

“As long as I have caffeine, I should be able to manage. How about this? I’ll come to your shop as soon as I’m done with work and cook for us. We’ll have a cosy night in like we had last night.”

“Last night was ‘cosy’ indeed,” I murmur, hoping she catches on to what I’m alluding to.

“It was. I really liked it.” Her lashes flutter with the memories of last night, cheeks tinged pink. Unfortunately, the heartstopping girlish giggle is short-lived and becomes serious too soon. “But while I did, I think we shouldn’t do it again so soon.”

“Agreed,” I respond, mind occupied by the ripples of transformation and the splashes of pain wanting to remember something significant only communicated in incomprehensible flashes.

Distorted.

Like the memories of the forest.

I need to call Jinyoung. He needs to know.

 “What shall we eat tonight?”

The change in subject is welcome, but also a confusing bridge to cross. How can humans go from severe to casual without a care? The aspect of communication has me furrow my brows as I try to work out the mech… work… nuts and bolts behind it. Nevertheless, I answer the question. “I thought you had a plan already.”

The corners of her mouth curl up into a cat-like grin. “I have no idea, so that’s why I’m asking you. You’re a better chef than I am.”

“I’m not that good,” I murmur, my ears lowered like a shy pup. “But I’d like something we can make together.”

“Pancakes?”

“Yes!’’ I bark, leaning in and grabbing the sheets to contain the excitement at cooking together. ‘’Yes, I’d like that!”

A flicker of doubt passes over her face, hesitant in the way she tends to be when it concerns food. However, a second later, she taps me on the nose with a content hum. “Pancakes it is.”

While Y/N showers, I clean the dishes and pull the sheets off of the bed so she can bring them to the laundry. Although, maybe I could do it myself. I’d have to text Jinyoung for instructions since he always does mine, but even then it shouldn’t be too difficult. Humans do laundry all the time. It’s part of their routine and if they can do it, so can I.

I hope.

As I’m making the bed and contemplating the process to get at least the blood stain out of the fabric, my mate walks back into the room. Her wet hair is bundled up in a towel that’s smaller than the one wrapped around her body. The addition of the scents of cherry blossoms and matcha to the blend of summer fruits drives me dizzy as she moves to the wardrobe.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help looking as the towel falls to the floor to reveal her naked body. An appreciative growl unconsciously rises from my throat, a surge of heat culminating between my legs.

Just one more time. I’ll keep myself in check. Behave. I’ll behave.

“Jaebeom,” cheeks flushed, Y/N glances over her shoulder, “don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I shuffle to her side to help her put on her bra by closing the clasps. When they click in place, I place a kiss between her shoulder blades, feeling her shiver against my lips. “I know what we agreed on.”

I wrap my arms around her waist and let my head rest on her shoulder. Eyes closed, I try to keep a clear mind as she scratches me behind the ear.

“It’s not necessarily... that.” Her voice is light, wanting to move past the concerns of last night with humour. “It’s rather the thought I wouldn’t get to leave for the office at all if we go back to bed.”

“You’re right.” I decide to play along, if only to give us both some peace of mind. So, I bury my nose in the side of her neck, nuzzling her and earning myself a bird-like giggle that spreads a nice fuzzy feeling inside. “I wouldn’t let you go. We’d read the day away with coffee.”

“Tea, in your case. Doctor’s orders. I don’t want you bouncing around the place. You’re my calm, well, sort of calm bookish wolf. Not a supercharged husky.”

It’s a lame joke, but nevertheless makes me laugh.

“What will you wear today?” I ask, glancing at the clothes on the hangers.

Here and there, there’s a colourful item in the collection. Withal, the majority of the items are mono… one-toned... black and white items to be switched up with a dark-shaded checkered blouse.

My attention drifts to the long white dress with lemons. The fabric is on the thin side, which makes it suitable for summer or a warm spring.

I’d love to see you in that dress, if only just once.

She pouts her lips. “I was thinking about grey high-waisted jeans with a black button-up shirt and ankle boots.”

“Wear my hoodie,” I whine, upset my… my girlfriend. That sounds nice. My girlfriend. It makes me upset that my girlfriend doesn’t plan on wearing one of the things I gave her. “You like the grey one, right?”

“I do, but-’’

“Then wear it.”

She sighs, shakes her head and turns around to look up at me. “There’s something like a dress code at the office.”

“Don’t care.” I nudge her nose with mine, bark lowered to a woof to persuade her to go with my choice. “You’ll look better. More pretty.”

“If you put a pair of boxers on, I’ll wear the hoodie. Deal?”

“But they’re uncomfortable. I only wore them because Jinyoung told me to.”

“Then I won’t wear the hoodie.” Little devilish will-o’-the-wisps light up her eyes as the corners of her mouth curl up into a taunting grin. “Shame. Now my colleagues won’t get to see I have a boyfriend.”

The tables have flipped since I’m apparently not the only one who’s good at using their charms.

Nevertheless, reluctant to start a fight over this, I let out a compromising chuff. “Okay, fine.”

Humans and their clothes. I like yours, but you’d look even better in mine. Still, I’m only doing this because I want every male at your office and in the city to know you’re mine.

No matter what size they are, clothing is a thing I absolutely haven’t missed. Notwithstanding, to please my mate, I wriggle myself back into the tight short trousers and the loose pants to wear over them. Y/N gives me a warning look when she sees me fumbling with my shirt, hopefully missing out on the obvious clue I secretly hope she’ll let me off easy.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Yes, Jae, also the shirt,” she chastises me like a mother disciplines a rebellious pup. “And the shoes. You don’t want other people to call the cops after seeing a naked man in the streets.” Unaware of the fact I can hear her perfectly even as she mutters under her breath, she adds. ‘’Or me to pick you up at the police station because of it.’’ 

Amused by the funny image the fantastical scenario creates in my mind, I relent. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once we’re both dressed, Y/N makes way for the bathroom to do her makeup. Ignoring my protests it’s unnecessary since there’s nothing to hide or improve to make me love her more, she closes the door behind her and locks it.

There goes the plan of dragging her out of there by the collar to have her scratch my jaw and ear again instead. A much better way to pass the time, if you ask me.

In the meanwhile, I return to the bedroom to take a picture of the damage with my phone and send it to Jinyoung.

Jaebeom: We need to talk.

Immediately, I get a response.

Jinyoung: Yes, we absolutely do. Everything OK?

Jaebeom: Yes, Y/N is fine. Alive. A little shaken, but so am I. Well, we’re more than a little shaken. Fuck, Jinyoung, I don’t know what happened.

Jinyoung: I’ll drop by later today. I have to give a lecture in a bit and have to see a new patient afterwards. He’s going through the reintegration program right now and needs a little extra help.

Jaebeom: Help with what? What is he?

Jinyoung: A wolf. Not a standard case.

Jaebeom: Anything I can help with?

Jinyoung: I think you need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll be at the shop around two.

Footsteps disturb the silence, going from the bathroom to the hallway.

That was quick. Are females always this fast with applying their face?

It’s a funny phrase, ‘applying my face’. Also, it’s the argument the pretty lady used as the final word on the matter. But she already has a face so there’s no need to apply a second like some Greek god.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Ears perked, I glance around the corner into the living room and in Y/N’s direction.

“Work?” she answers sheepishly, looking back at me with her head slightly tilted to the side. In her hands is the black trench coat she was about to put on.

Fortunately, she’s kept her makeup natural with a golden brown eyeshadow, a bit of a black line to accentuate her eyes and something to enhance her lashes. It’s a natural look which some of the female customers could learn from with their fake lips or chest that makes them reek of silicone and plastic. Their makeup, often overemphasizing their fake features, doesn’t add to their supposed charm. In fact, it makes me turn my snout away even faster if their attitude already hasn’t.

I’d never offer them coffee or want them around more than once.

But not her.

Not Y/N.

I can’t remember if she wore the same makeup when we met, but I vaguely recall a sense of calm and need for protection alongside a strange recognition. A connection that would make all the puzzle pieces of my life fit together.

The missing last piece.

“Not so fast.” I swiftly move to her side to kiss her forehead. No way I’m letting her go without giving her at least one more.

“There,” I pet her head, griggling and sweeping my tail triumphantly, “now you’re free to go.”

“I wouldn’t have gone without telling you, you know?” She stands on the tip of her toes to peck me on the lips, slightly swaying side to side to keep her balance.

So I lean forward to make it easier for her and chuckle against her lips. “Have a good day at work, Y/N.”

“You too, Jae.”

And with that, she puts on her coat, grabs her bag and opens the front door. She lingers in the doorway, waving half-heartedly as a final word of goodbye.

I wave back, faking a smile to see her off without worry.

Being human again isn’t so bad.

However, the deadline is another story.

The shop is as tranquil as it is on any other day. The quietness of unread words hangs between the shelves, the only noise to disrupt the silence being the rustle of a page being turned. Seated by the window as per usual, listening to the hail in the dim light, I read the time away, but whereas it’s normally a form of amusement and pleasure, it now functions in part to forget this morning’s discovery.

I didn’t mean to pry, but I inspected Y/N’s bookshelves before I left her apartment. There was the usual assortment of classics, but also a lot of Asian fiction, a genre I haven’t delved into too much yet. So, of course with the intention of returning it, I took Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami with me.

She must have read it recently because her fruity scent still lingers on the paper. The summer blend distracts me to the point that the movement of the hands of the clock pass unnoticed in the background.

Regardless of the appointed time, it’s half past two instead of two o’clock that Jinyoung comes in. In his one hand he holds a carrier with two paper cups, the sleeves on them decorated with the silhouette of a black wolf and the name of the café printed in vintage letters beneath the design, the letters spelling out Wolf’s. Judging by the scent, it’s tea the doctor has brought with him. Apple cinnamon for me, since that’s the only one I like, and rooibos for himself.

In his other hand, he holds his bag. One of the claps has either not been fastened before he left or came undone along the way. Whatever the reason, it’s clear he came here in a hurry.

“Sorry I’m late. Christian and I had a lot more to discuss than we thought.” Jinyoung stumbles inside, puts the tea and his bag on the counter, and turns around to lock the door and flip the sign so we can talk in private.

A hint of leather mixed with coffee and wood is mixed in with his own.

Male.

Threat.

Teeth gritted and jaw clenched, I make a mental note to myself to keep this scent away from Y/N. To keep this Christian away from her.

“Jaebeom,” the other male sighs. His tone holds a silent warning of being close to breaking some kind of boundary.

“What?” The answer rolls off the tongue as a growl rather than an actual question. Not that it matters since he must have had a lot worse to endure from me. Besides, it’s not him I’m pissed at so he’s safe.

Although, the wild undertone in his already peculiar personal blend alludes to the opposite.

Has he always smelled like this or is this new? He is human, but then why does my instinct tell me to watch out for him, that there’s more than to him? Strange. 

“He’s no competition. I think he might have imprinted with my colleague, although neither he nor she might be aware of it.” He rolls his eyes. “The gods know whether Gráinne will do anything with it. I wonder if... no, I don’t think either of them told her anything.”

A grim wistfulness stains his voice, which ignites a curiosity about his colleague’s circumstances. Notwithstanding, that story will have to wait until another day and his willingness to tell me.

Still, I quickly fish my phone out of my pocket, open the notes app, and jot down a short reminder to ask about it at a later date.

“Anyway,” Jinyoung steps away from the door, hands me the cup with apple cinnamon tea, and gestures at the worn couch by the window overlooking the west side of the neighbourhood, “we’re here to talk about you. About the picture you sent.”

We move away from the counter to the sofa. A burst of hail spatters against the glass as we sit down.

I’m glad to have something to hold to conceal the shivers running through my body at the image of the claw mark mixed with the memory of what Y/N told me she felt. Or, rather, thought she felt although I’m certain she actually did feel the first ripples of transformation.

For a moment, we sit in silence as I mentally prepare myself for the conversation. Nipping on the tea with my shoulders curled over my chest, I try to reconstruct last night as best I can.

As much as my memory lets me.

To break the... something. There’s an idiom, no, a phrase? A saying.

I don’t know.

Not anymore.

To make it easier, likely noticing the struggle to say anything, Jinyoung speaks up. “There’s more than the photo. You’re leaving things out, things I need to know to help. What aren’t you telling me, Jaebeom?”

“Y/N-” I begin, my breath unsteady as I restart the sentence, “Y/N said she felt my skin move and if I try to remember last night, I can only recall fragments that give me a headache when I try to string them together. Which I can’t.”

He pales, frozen in place as the weird briny scent sours. “That shouldn’t-’’

“Shouldn’t happen,” I finish the remark. 

A horrifying idea arises that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end and has me nervously tapping my thumbs together as I try not to squeeze the cup in my paws. Nonetheless, voice a low woof bordering on a melancholic whine, I tell the doctor what’s on my mind. “I think the pills stopped working. Completely. I- I don’t think-’’

The world stops, shrinks, and strings my chest as tight as a string as I shrink within myself. Each thought evaporates as fast as the flashes in the wolf’s memory, incoherent if meant to be sensible at all.

The snow hasn’t even come.

I can’t leave her alone.

I don’t want to leave this life.

I don’t want to go just when being human again starts to get good.

I don’t want to be the old me again.

  “I think so too,” Jinyoung agrees grimly. “If I increase the silver and nightshade or the doses it will kill you.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes sharp with focus as he poses the question I’ve been wondering about myself. “Does she know what you are?”

I shake my head. I might be her weirdo wolf guy, but she’d never believe me if I told her what I really am. Besides, werewolves are the stuff of fiction these days.

We’re no longer seen as a real threat nor have the power and status we used to have in the days of yore. We are devoid of an identity acknowledged by humans.

But, if I don’t possess an identity, am I really here?

Alive?

Or dead like the wolf inside?

Paradise is calling, the song of the forest playing like a red thread through my broken memory.

Beckoning me home.

The woods are calling.

And I must not go.

Jinyoung’s new question pulls me out of my reverie, just in time before the train of thought would crash and burn. “Are you going to tell her?”

“No.” I take a sip of the sweet tea, to have a second of bliss and enjoy a new human pleasure.

Another happiness I discovered a little too late.

“Will you at least tell her about your meds?” Even though she’s seen me take them, Y/N doesn’t know what they’re for. But, then again, did she look at the label?

Regardless of whether she did or not, she’s perhaps not truly ignorant to the reason I have to take them. After all, she thinks they combat my amnesia, which is partially true. It’s a half-truth.

But the real reason is a secret I intend to keep.

“No,” I repeat, determined in my answer regardless of the world spinning out of control. “I won’t tell her.”

“She deserves that much, doesn’t she? She’s your girlfriend, Jay.’’ Although his features have softened, the doctor’s voice rises to a fierce bark as he reinforces his point. ‘’Your mate.”

“I can’t tell her,’’ I retort, my bark closer to a growl than a civilized answer. Tears brim on the edge of my lashes, obscuring my vision in spite of my attempts to blink them away. The vision of Y/N by herself in the snow, on her knees in the middle of the orchard, blocks my throat and makes breathing harder than it already was. 

The vision changes to the image of a spring day close to summer, warm enough for her to wear the dress with the lemons. She’s seated in the same position between the trees which are now white and pink with blossom. However, whereas her belly was flat before, it’s now swollen, pregnant with pups.

My pups?

No, I have to stay here.

I have to survive the winter.

I have to be here if I ever change my mind and want to start a pack with her.

I must be here.

But the question is whether I actually can.

At this rate, I’m not sure.

I don’t know.

But I know enough to explain why I’m reluctant to tell my pretty lady anything. ‘’I can’t tell her, because the news will hurt her and I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Plus, what am I supposed to say? I’m a wolf that turned into a man and is slowly dying, going back to his old form in which it... he. Am human. In which he’ll be stuck until it- He! Am human! Until he dies?

“Y/N has to know about this, Jaebeom.’’ A hand on my shoulder makes me look up from the floor to the man next to me. ‘’How about I talk to her, tell her what you told me and discuss what our options are as well as a plan for the future?”

“You’re right.” I let out a mirthless griggle. “Fuck, I hate it when you are. But… But how will you… explain, uhm, explain… this- me! How will you explain me? What I am? For all she cares, werewolves are my- myth- fic-’’ I throw my head back, frustrated I can’t find the right word or properly speak.

Jinyoung gives me an encouraging squeeze, kindheartedly chuckling at my failure. “I know what you mean. Nobody comes into our world willingly or at least without a good reason. I think your... situation is enough of the latter for her to get involved too. She doesn’t have to join the branch, I’ll leave that up to her. But, if Y/N decides to believe me, or us for that matter, she’ll at least have a community to rely on when you, you know, you’re...”

“When I’m gone.’’ The hesitance to state the facts makes me grimace and my tone sharper than intended. ‘’We both know where this is heading so just say it.”

“Fine,’’ the doctor puts his hands up as if he’s at the risk of being shot ‘’when you’re gone.”

“What’ll happen to the shop?” I gesture around the paper paradise, changing the topic slightly. Books have been another treasure of humanity I will forever be grateful for, especially since I hopefully have created a legacy with them that’s worth keeping.

The doctor glances around, a somber expression on his face. “Either the university will keep it and maintain it as a potential workplace in the reintegration program or sell it off. I don’t know, real estate doesn’t fall within my jurisdiction.”

“Ah, I see.” I lower my head, gaze averted to the half-empty cup in my paws.

Funny how I once thought of making this a family business or to have at least my pup’s name on the spine of one of these books. If I ever had them, would they like to be a writer? Would Y/N tell them their absent father, I... I love... loved to read?

I force myself to forget the thought, swallow despite having a dry mouth, and shake my head. “Thank you. For wanting to tell her. She’ll come over tonight, so-’’

He holds up his hand to stop me. “I’ll text her so we can meet at a later date. She just returned from a business trip and had quite the evening with you. You two deserve a bit of rest.”

“But what if...”

It’s unlikely, but what if it happens again? What if I spin out of control tonight?

“Keep your temper in check and try to suppress your instinct,” Jinyoung answers matter-of-factly.

So, no sex.

Although the unspoken implication doesn’t come as a surprise, I can’t help but feel disappointed even though Y/N and I agreed on not doing it again so soon. Notwithstanding, it would be a lie to say I didn’t want to do it again this morning. But then there was the pool of blood and the amnesia that ruined our morning bliss.

All the same, flashes of what I do remember from last night replay in my mind.

They say once you’ve had a wolf, you never go back. Maybe because I won’t let you.

She looked beautiful, tears glistening in her eyes, equally as beautiful as her meek whimpers. She’s so small and fragile, easy to overpower.

To conquer.

“Your mind’s…. gutter again, isn’t it?” A groan sounds from somewhere on the side, distant like a faint echo

I was inside her.

In spite of the weird plastic, she felt nice.

Warm.

Wet.

I replay the image of her whimpering on the sheets as I looked down at her over and over. My hand on her cheek and Y/N keeping it in place. I should have used that second to dive down and worship her soft breasts more.

I could have bitten her there. Just a small bite on the side.

The snapping of a pair of fingers before my eyes interrupts the pleasant reverie. A bit offended, I snap around to growl at whoever took the pleasure of a cherished memory away.

 Only to face Jinyoung, who sighs and looks down at the bulge in my pants before pursing his lips with an exasperated knowing expression as he looks up. 

Scrambling to regain my composure and hardly remembering what he said, I answer as best I can. “No!”

“Then why are you drooling?”

[athenafire]

        Closed @divinacaptivus

   Since her liberation from that tomb, Meredith had plenty of time to ponder what The Emperor may do when he discovered her. But expressing remorse was far from on the list of possibilities. Was he even capable of regret, after all he had done?

   He surprised her further, when he sacrificed part of his fragmented being to give back what he stole. Though in this state, he could not give her the arm, he did share enough to get his Saint back on her feet.

   Feeling the white hot energy burn every fiber of her soul, Meredith blacked out for days. This gave her fragment enough time to digest the energy, stabilizing it within. She opened her eyes, sighting Garth. “I hate that bastard.” she grunted. “Now he’s going to expect something.”

   “...Pardon?” he replied, not yet privy to Meredith and Kusigs private conversation.

   “Your daddy-kins is still around, somehow. Not doing great, but around.” Garth did not respond. With a sigh, she continued. “Sounded...” her arm flopped, a gesture similar to a shrug, but exhausted, “I don’t know...” another pause. Her eyes searched for words to express her thoughts. “... I don’t want to say it.”

   “Then do not.” Garth interjected.

   Silence filled the room. Both Saint and Custodes had a complicated relationship. Though her state was ultimately his fault, the two had no one else. It was a testament to Saint Merediths character that she even allowed Garth to leave her tomb. If she wished, he could be destroyed at any moment. But yet, part of her knew. She could see his regret, but also his resolve to make amends. Not only to her, but to humanity as a whole. That kind of determination would be useful in the coming months. And, she was sentimental. So was he, though Garth would never admit it.

   “I do not need to know what he said.” Garth continued, breaking the quiet. “I can make assumptions, but assumptions on a conversation I care nothing for are not my focus.”

   “And what is?”

   “....That is my question for you, my lady.” Garth held his spear at attention. The display of loyalty bringing both painful, and proud, tears to his charges eyes.

   “I don’t have a plan this time, Garth.” Meredith sighed, staring at the ceiling from her bed. “My last plan...” she paused, wiping her eyes, “my last plan didn’t do so well.”

   Garth grit his teeth. His hand flexing over his spear in a nervous habit. What would Pontevallis do, he wondered. He would...find a way to get that ...fire or whatever he called it going in her heart again. He thought on what to say, yet nothing he could say would fix this. “... Before starting a mission, you would always go....on reconnaissance. Find information, people, allies and such.”

   Meredith perked up. “Everything is gone, Garth.”

   “Not quite. Vulkan, Gulliman, even Magnus are all around. I hear the old wolf is as well.”

   “Bjorn?”

   “Yes.”

   “Hell, nothing could take that old wolf down.” she said with a smile.

   “I hear Dante--”

   “Oh God, not him. I can’t look at his stupid armor.”

   “Okay, not Dante, but you see my point?”

   A pause, “Yeah...” she wiped her eyes once more. “Now we just gotta sneak out without the Apothecary noticing.”

   “Considering all of our years together, I believe that will be the easy part.”

   “Even with this crap strapped to my chest?” she noted her heart and breathing monitors. 

   “None of that stopped you before.”

   “....Bring me that plant.”

[themonotonysyndrome]

Guilt Eater

Part 4 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ is here! And yes, I will do my absolute best to squeeze in as much Blazblue reference in this series until I can’t! (I mean, that’s how I got the plot bunny for this series anyway~)

We’re moving the spotlights today to Malleus and Ace and a special guest! I thought it’ll be an interesting shift of perspective and change. Don’t worry, we’ll get right back to the kids in the next oneshot. 

As always, big thank you to @tri3tri for letting us expand her Second Wive AU. Hope you guys enjoy this oneshot. 

-

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species. 

For creatures who only grew stronger with time while their bodies remain near immortal, the passing of time means nothing to the Fair Folks. Time is likened to the ocean; ancient yet full of wonders. 

For Malleus, however, time has not been kind to him. Not since his dear heart and children vanishes. 

Ever since then, there is an unspoken rule among the residents of the Castle of Thorns: the Queen’s family wing is forbidden to everyone but the King.

Even Lilia nod his head to the rule; even he has been walking on eggshells around their King. 

And the years had transformed the Queen’s domain into a catacomb. The rumpled beds, the toys littered in Princess Sherrie’s bedroom, the Queen’s favourite book on her study table - everything is left untouched with layered of dust and cobwebs covering every inch of the surfaces. 

Every evening, the King would stalk the empty halls and bedrooms like a ghost; constantly yearning to feel the memories that embedded on the walls. Once he did his duties as the King and beget the male heir that the court had been pushing, Malleus has been living in regret ever since. 

He should have known that his beautiful wife would attempt to escape during the night of his second wedding. He should have tightened the security not on his concubine, but to the Queen and their Princesses. He should have assured Renata and Sherrie that only their mother holds his heart and that Bellatrix is just a means to an end. 

He should have told them that he loves them. 

Regret and guilt are terrible poisons. It festered under your skin and twist your heart painfully. They plague your mind with ‘what if’s’ and ‘should have’s’ and Malleus have been carrying them ever since that night. 

Tonight, he lost hours inside Renata’s bedroom, just staring at her favourite doll that he bought for her. He still remembers how her eyes lit up and how sweet her smile was when he presented the doll to her; how she was so happy that she clings on him and the doll that day. Deeply amused, he humoured her and carried her in her arms the whole day. Malleus even brought her to his court session, regardless how it broke propriety. 

His every waking moments now drift to MC and their daughters. Where are they? Why couldn’t he find them no matter how many soldiers he dispatched across Twisted Wonderland, no matter how far his magic blanket the lands? Are his daughters healthy, happy? What are they currently doing now? Are they safe? Have they forgotten about him - 

The mirror on the vanity table shattered. Malleus releases the doll in his grip and struggle to calm himself down; his body curl inwards and his breaths erratic. The thought of his wife and children far away and happy from him nearly drove him crazy if it weren’t for Lilia’s quick and careful words of consolation.

“They can’t hide forever, Malleus. Don’t ever give up, you hear me? And once we’ll find them, we’ll make sure her little escape routines are put to a stop. Permanently.”  

Lilia’s words are enough to ground him. For now. 

Malleus failed to assured his wife and daughters his love towards them, failed to show just how deep his convictions towards them are. The moment he finds any threads of their whereabouts, he’ll make sure to rectify that. 

And as the night made way for morning, Malleus forces himself to leave his daughter’s abandoned bedroom to prepare for another long, monotonous day. The only reason why he hasn’t delegate his duties to Lilia was because of his grandmother. His grandmother had come to visit on the eve of his second wedding and stayed when a frantic Silver announced MC and their children’s disappearance. If it weren’t for her, Malleus would’ve burned away his suit and transform into a dragon to search for them. While Lilia organise a search team with Silver and Sebek, his grandmother made sure he understood his duties as King once more. 

That was the first and last time he slept with Bellatrix before his thoughts and desire are consumed with the need to find his family. At that point, neither Lilia nor his grandmother could’ve stop him. 

The castle staffs and guards know to scattered when they see him step out of the Queen’s wing. The moment they heard the door creaked open, the room is empty. 

All but for one individual. 

“Good morning, Father!” 

Malleus stop his track. He tilts his head towards his heir, expressionless. Victor refused to be deterred by his Father’s gloomy aura yet he’s smart enough to carefully approach him. 

The king is stoic on the best days, frightening on his worst. 

“Will you be joining us for breakfast later? I heard from Grandfather Lilia that the kitchen staffs are planning to cook your favourites.” 

“I’ll be taking my meals in my office as usual.” Malleus reply and starts to walk away. 

Victor’s smile drop a little but he pressed on, jogging behind his father. In a rare burst of courage, the Prince grab Malleus’ hand. Surprisingly, Malleus stops walking. He stares at his hand before narrowing his eyes at Victor. 

“W-Would Father like a report of my recent academic progress? My tutors said that I’ve been doing well in my magic classes! O-Oh! I’ve also been diligently keeping up with my etiquette lessons.” Victor stutters out after he immediately let go of his Father’s hand. Feeling like he just committed a grave crime. 

“No need. Your tutors have been sending letters of your progress, daily.” 

“Oh... then would Father be willing to... to train me - ”

“I’m busy. Ask Lilia or any of your tutors.” And with that, Malleus refused to linger any longer, leaving Victor in the empty room. 

Crestfallen, Victor watch his Father go. Knowing that if he bothers him even more, it will just upset him and another storm would loom over the castle for the next few days. His expression immediately morph into a combination of anger and sadness as he stomps away before the staffs could return, not wanting them to see him vulnerable. 

As usual, Victor desperately hopes that one day his Father would finally acknowledge him as a son, not as his Prince. 

-

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species.

For creatures with a set of years as flimsy as a lit candle’s flame, humans are creatures who bear the passing of time with a passionate vigor. Time is likened to fireworks; beautiful, bright but only for a short moment. 

For Ace, however, time is a constant remainder that he had failed his best friend. Being vulnerable in Night Raven College is a sure way to be taken advantage off and Ace is never known as anything but his brutal honestly, mischievous streaks and habits of getting himself (and others) into trouble. 

But when the headmaster announced that he couldn’t find MC anywhere the day after their senior’s graduation, was the moment that he, Deuce and Grim completely lose their composure. Deuce was too shocked to say anything while Ace couldn’t stop screaming alongside Grim. 

She couldn’t have just vanish! People don’t work like that! 

And even if she finally somehow found a way back to her world, she wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye! 

Ace hated himself as that moment. If only he texted them the night before. Why didn’t he? They usually send stupid texts to one another! If only he kept a closer eye on them. If only she kept Grim close to her. 

For once, the headmaster drop all pretence. For once, his guilt laden answer and heavy sags of his shoulders are genuine. 

MC is gone and he has no idea how or why. But the three of them refused to gave up just like that. Ever since that day, they would do their best to figure out or research about MC’s fate. Jack and Epel, after finding out what happened, did their best to help out too. But days passed without any leads and with heavy hearts, they accepted that their friend is lost to them. 

That was not a good day. 

After Ace and Epel managed to pull Deuce and Jack away from one another (Deuce had completely lost it when the wolf boy reluctantly admit that maybe it was best to stop their research), strangely enough, it was Sebek who finally interjects. 

They need to accept that MC is gone. Even if they could never gain the closure that they desperately want, it’ll be no good to carry this sort of horrible guilt with them forever. With a long sigh, Sebek told them to find peace with it, even if it’s hard. 

Easier said than done. Even now that he’s already an adult and have a son, Ace still couldn’t help but wonder what happened to his friend. He hopes that wherever she is, MC is safe and happy. Anything other than that Ace couldn’t bear to think. 

Ace takes out his phone and checks the calendar app. The anniversary of MC’s disappearance is coming. Usually, Ace would cook MC’s favourite food in honour of her memory and over the years, he has gotten pretty good at it. Good enough that it also becomes his son’s favourite dish. 

Just as Ace was about to put down his phone and get ready to go out for lunch with his older brother, it suddenly rings.  

The name on his phone surprises him. His son rarely calls him ever since he got accepted to Night Raven College. Something about wanting some independence from his old man that Ace retaliates by ruffling his hair because of his boy’s cheekiness. 

Ace press the accept button with a grin, knowing that this is going to be good. “What’s up, kiddo? Finally admit that you miss your old man?” 

He expects a scoff, maybe a reluctant admittance, hell even his son’s rare bout of innocent honesty. What Ace didn’t expect however, is hearing his son’s frightened shriek.

“Dad! You knew a MC/S before right!? Please tell me you know what to do when she went batshit insane!” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What are you talking about? I can barely hear you!” 

Ace impatiently wait while pressing the phone close to his ear as he hear his son rapidly talking to someone, shouting apologies and heavy breaths as if he’s currently running. 

“Oh Sweet Seven, ok, I think we managed to hide from her.” His son panted. “Yeah, so, I might have, uh accidentally threw my food tray all over this girl and she immediately went supernova. We barely managed to dodge her fireballs!” 

Suddenly, Ace felt his heart drop. “Girl? What girl? Night Raven College is an all-boys’ school.” He heard himself reply. Absentmindedly, his mind brought up the memories of his Entrance Ceremony, years ago. Of a girl that looked so lost in her robes as she stood in front of the Mirror of Darkness. 

“Renata MC/S. She’s the only girl that ended up a student here. I remembered that you had a friend with that surname so I thought she might be related.” 

At that moment, Ace choose to believe it. It’s way too coincidental for it not be. A girl that shares his lost best friend’s surname who also just happend to be the only girl to be accepted in Night Raven College? 

But what Ace doesn’t understand is his son’s comment about the girl throwing fireballs. MC doesn’t have magic. So what’s going on? 

“Hmm, I usually gave her some space before I apologised to her. And a little bribery never failed too.” Ace advised, recalling how MC reluctantly accepts the candy that he offered after he upsets her. 

“That’s not a bad idea, Dad! Will report back the result if I’m not scorched to death.” Ace’s son dryly answer. Some rustling noises and hush whispers can be heard through the phone before his kid ended the call. 

Ace is already calling Deuce’s number. He needs to know about this. 

-

I hope I managed to did Malleus and Ace justice in writing them! I’ll get better with writing the rest of the boys once their children are introduce. Because Renata needed friends/allies against Malleus after all~ 

Speaking of Victor, I was really nervous when I was writing him. Here, he’s not all haughty because deep down, all he want is some praises and love from a Father who only see him as something to appease his court. Not a son. Hope I managed to portray that properly! 

(Also, the name of Ace’s son and two others will be reveal in the next oneshot)