#i say that like i could possibly Change My Legs to be werewolf shaped. i fuckin wish

[letmesleepy]

My icon this halloween (^μ ^ )

[messers-moony]

Runaways | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Twin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Regulus refuses to lose yet another sibling after Sirius leaves.

Being a Hufflepuff Prefect with a mischievous older Gryffindor brother is a lot of work. Sirius is frequently getting into trouble, and Remus is no help. But honestly? Y/n isn’t either. If anything, she laughs at her brother and her friend's antics. Y/n is the only Black family member still in good shape with all her family. 

Sirius was overjoyed when Y/n was into Hufflepuff. His little sister following in his footsteps of no longer being a Slytherin. However, Y/n’s twin brother - Regulus - was sorted into Slytherin. She didn’t let that define their relationship. Y/n was close with her twin and the Marauders. Remus often bumped her shoulder in the halls making her smile. The werewolf often had that effect on her. So did James, and so did Peter. 

But no one made a giant smile appear on her face than Sirius and Regulus. 

“Oi! Little sis!” His voice, it was calm and bright, something she hadn’t heard in a long time. 

Y/n turned, “Hey Siri.”

Sirius’ arm went around her shoulders, “How’s your day been?”

“Good, yours?”

“Oh,” Sirius sighed, dreaming, making her chuckle, “It’s been perfect, dear sister.”

“What did you do now?” Y/n fake scolded, “Everything.” Sirius replied. 

A familiar raven-haired boy was making their way towards them, hoping and praying that they wouldn’t notice. His green tie and green robes. The prefect badge on the left side of his chest. The wavy black hair and the beautiful grey eyes. The 5’11 Slytherin walking towards his twin sister and older brother. The people he adored the most in the world but barely talked to within the castle walls. His plan ultimately failed. 

Regulus turned to walk by his two siblings only for Y/n to wrap an around his shoulder, “Reggie!”

“Y/n, Sirius.” Regulus greeted with the corners of his lips barely turning up, “How’s your day been?” Sirius asked, turning to look at his younger brother. 

“Good until two idiots came along.” He joked with a smile adorning his features. 

Y/n put her hand on her heart dramatically, “You wound me!”

Both brothers chuckled, and a Professor came to greet them in the middle of the hallway, seeing their beautiful smiling faces, “All three Black’s in one spot. How brilliant!” Slughorn commented as Sirius faked tipping his hat. 

The three Black siblings. The Black trio. One Gryffindor, one Slytherin, and one Hufflepuff. Oh, how Walburga adored them despite the way she treated them. It was never in her heart to treat them the way she does. Orion had such a soft spot for his twins. But alas, both parents knew that if they didn’t raise them correctly - or without abuse - they would only get hurt worse. Walburga knew that if she treated them the way she truly wanted to, they’d be split. 

But that never compared to the aching in her heart when she had to cast a spell on her children. The kids she was sworn to protect. Walburga never wanted this life, never wanted to marry Orion, hell, she never even wanted kids, but Merlin, her kids were great. Slughorn and McGonagall would send her letters of how wonderfully they’ve been doing in their studies, how Sirius made another cauldron explode, how Regulus caught the snitch and won the Quidditch Cup, how Y/n made prefect and was top of her class. 

It was beautiful, and for once, Walburga was happy. She hid all the letters from Orion. If Orion knew he’d made Walburga send a howler, and she didn’t want that. Godric how she hated the awful red colors the howlers came in. The awful shade of brilliant rose. It brought a grimace to her face just thinking about it. But like everything, the truth comes out, and Sirius eventually got a howler. 

Sirius let go of Y/n to begin Transfiguration while the two twins made their way to Herbology. Not before Sirius kissing the tops of their heads like he did when they were kids, “I love you guys!”

“Black, get in here!” McGonagall yelled, and both twins laughed, “We love you too!” They replied in unison. 

Regulus and Y/n laughed, their arms around each other's shoulders, “I never want him to leave.” Regulus admitted. 

“Me either.”

The day was uneventful. More learning, more foolishness, and more laughter. Professor Sprout couldn’t help but smile at the Black twins in her classroom. Regulus was always ice cold when not around his siblings. They made him shine even if he couldn’t find a reason to. It didn’t matter where they were. The Black trio always brought smiles with them. Whether it was Y/n and Sirius, the twins, or all three, their smiles, their laughs, their happiness was so contagious. Three children from an abusive home, coming together to make each other smile. How is it possible?

Y/n would be the answer. The glue to the Black family. The bond to keep her brothers from drifting apart. But that all changed in the summer of 1976.

It was dark and another day of yelling. Sirius couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to leave. He wanted to go. It was bound to happen. He kept telling himself. But did that excuse leaving his siblings behind? Would he risk their safety for his own pleasure? Sirius didn’t have time to think about it. He packed his trunk and opened the window. One leg out and just about to get the other over until his door opened. 

His little sister, “Sirius?”

“Hey, sis…” Sirius hated how his voice shook and almost broke.

“What- Where are you going?”

He couldn’t help it; she needed to know the truth, “Away. Far away from here.”

Y/n crossed her arms slowly, “Without saying goodbye?”

“Goodbye?” Sirius replied with a nervous smile. 

She shook her head with a smile, walking toward his window. Sirius expected a smack, a lecture. But she didn’t do that. Y/n cupped both his cheeks and kissed his forehead like he did when she was hurt. Tears filled his grey eyes without permission as he stared at his younger sister's glossed eyes. Gently she ran her hand through his hair, moving it back. 

“I suppose you were never good at goodbyes.”

“Not really, no.” Sirius chuckled. 

Y/n smiled, “I know you aren’t happy here. You were never happy here.” Sirius interrupted before she could continue, “You could give Remus a run for his money.”

“Listen, Sirius, please.” She pleaded, and Sirius looked at her eyes; he’d miss them, “All I ask, is that you take care of yourself. Regulus and I, we’ll manage. But you should say goodbye to him too….”

“Go get him.”

It took minutes, but Regulus was eventually standing in front of his older brother, one leg out of the window and the other inside his bedroom. Y/n stood behind them, arms crossed with tears streaming down her cheeks silently. Regulus looked like he wanted to cry, but he didn’t. Sirius didn’t care anymore. Silver trails ran down his cheeks, especially when Regulus hugged his older brother with all his strength. 

“I'm going to miss you.”

Sirius sniffled, “I’ll miss you a hundred times more.”

“Impossible.” Y/n interjected, smiling. 

Regulus and Sirius pulled apart, Regulus now standing beside his twin, “I need you to know,” Sirius began, looking at Regulus, “James isn’t your replacement. He is nothing compared to you. You’re my brother, always.”

“And you,” He turned to Y/n after Regulus nodded, “You’re my baby sister, through and through. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean you can give me detention.” 

They chuckled, and possibly for the last time, “Always.”

“Forever.”

“Together.”

Sirius gave a watery smile and finished the jump out his window. Wordlessly Y/n shut it behind him. Regulus stood in front of the glass pane until Sirius was out of sight and gave a heavy sigh. Y/n was standing right beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I knew it was going to happen. I just wish it wasn’t so soon.” Regulus whispered, “I know.” Y/n agreed. 

Regulus took her hand, “Forever.”

“Together.” Y/n replied, squeezing his hand. 

So many they lost their always, but they still had each other. The next night at dinner was dreadful. Possibly the worst one yet, “Where is he!”

“I- I don’t know.” Y/n answered, cowering away, her hand rubbing her forearm.

Walburga looked at Regulus, and he shook his head, “Where is Sirius?”

“Gone.” Walburga replied to her husband, who gave a mere shrug at the answer, “Our heir is gone, Orion! What are we going to do now.”

“The reasonable thing, Y/n is next in line.”

Walburga scoffed, “Absolutely not.”

Regulus reached for his sister's hand after noticing the tears collecting in her eyes, “She is a disgrace! Just like Sirius!”

Orion put down the daily prophet, looking at his wife across the table, “What would you like me to do about it?”

“Regulus!” The boy stiffened, “You are our next heir.”

“No!” Y/n exclaimed, her rage taking over, “That isn’t how it works! I’m the next in line, disgrace or not. I'm older than Regulus.”

Walburga pulled out her wand, but Y/n didn’t flinch, “With that courage, you should be in Gryffindor.” The older woman seethed.

“You feel no remorse, do you?” Y/n asked, but she did; Godric, Walburga hated herself, “Putting your wand to my neck like I’m some training dummy.”

“How do you think we feel! Our older brother is gone! The one who took care of us because our parents can’t.”

Y/n had tears flowing down her cheeks, “How do you think we feel?”

The girl stood up from the table without being dismissed after letting go of Regulus’ hand, “I saw the tapestry.”

“You burned him from it! What kind of monster are you?! He’s your son regardless of his house. I’ll be your heir, but I will never be your puppet.”

Y/n ran up to her bedroom. Walburga and Orion stared at their son, who sat as stiff as a board. More minutes passed, and Regulus left the table too but not before speaking to his parents, “I’ll- I’ll be your heir. I’ll be your son.”

“Brilliant. Thank you, Regulus.” Walburga smiled.

Regulus lost his brother. He wasn’t losing his sister. But over time, it felt like he was. There was no more laughter in the halls. Only one Black sibling was laughing and smiling - Sirius. There was no more hugging in the halls, no more playing around. Regulus and Y/n were ice. They were cold and in pain. That was the first thing Sirius noticed. His siblings hadn’t stopped by his carriage like usual. It dampened his mood. 

“Hey, I’m sure they’re just busy.” James had reassured, but Sirius wasn’t so sure.

It was the first ride to Hogwarts that Sirius was utterly silent. He played with the ribbon in his hand. It was a green ribbon that he carried with him everywhere. The boys never knew what it was or where it came from. They had just discovered that Sirius would fidget with it when he was upset. Remus noticed it first - of course - but James did too, and shortly Peter followed. It was her ribbon, Y/n’s ribbon. A ribbon she wore in her hair when she was seven. 

After a bad punishment, Sirius had been given Y/n took care of him. Washed his cuts and plastered them. It was then she learned how much Sirius loved when people did his hair. So she braided it for him and tied it off with her green ribbon. He remembered the way it felt on his fingertips. So perfectly combed and webbed together. It was the reason his hair was long enough to braid. Every Quidditch match, he’d weave it. James asked why once, and Sirius ignored him, but Y/n knew. It was okay to keep secrets sometimes. 

Fifth-year for the twins went by smoothly. Sirius’ sixth year was hell. He missed his siblings so much somedays it was hard to get up in the morning. Regardless it was hard to get Sirius out of bed in the morning, but this year was particularly rough. It was like he was in a constant state of Remus after the full moon - tired, fatigued and sad. 

He missed Regulus’ smile and Y/n’s laughter. Godric, he missed everything! Sirius cried - sobbed about it at night. His silencing charms weren’t good. It left James and Remus in a tricky spot. It was apparent he didn’t want to talk about it because if he did, he would’ve by now. Remus stopped seeing the twins during prefect rounds and stopped seeing Y/n altogether. It was like she was avoiding them. 

The twins did their prefect rounds together, studied together, and only talked to each other. It broke Sirius’ heart. He ruined everything just for his own pleasure. But hadn’t Y/n meant what she said? That she wanted him to be happy? Sirius wasn’t happy. He was far from it. 

Regulus had nightmares every night about his parents. About his brother leaving, about everything. So he didn’t sleep most nights, and instead, he threw himself into his studies. Occasionally he’d realized that he had done two essays and then understood that he no longer had to do his brother's homework. Regulus had copies of reports everywhere because it was a habit. A habit he had to lose. 

Y/n stopped baking extra cookies. Every Saturday, she’d go to the kitchens to bake a new delicacy the muggle way. Y/n couldn’t help but accidentally bake extra for her Gryffindor brother, only to realize that she wouldn’t give them to him. Instead, she gave them to the house elves to serve after dinner in the Great Hall. They’d appear on the Gryffindor table, and Sirius knew they were a product of her. 

During the summer holiday of 1977, Regulus began to notice that Y/n gone often. Walburga would send her away, or Orion would make her run an errand. Regardless Y/n wasn’t around as much. Was she going to run like Sirius? Walburga and Orion sent her to Auror training. Y/n was young, too young for this training. It was Auror training, but they weren’t training her to work for the Ministry. They were preparing for her to become a death eater. 

Weeks passed, and Regulus felt saddened by her absence. So one day at dinner, he spoke up, “Why haven’t you been present at home?”

Y/n chuckled, “Are you serious? You haven’t told him?”

“What- What do you mean?” Regulus questions suspiciously.

Walburga coughed, “She’s been put into training.”

“Training?”

“Auror training.”

“But not to be an Auror, to be a death eater.” 

Y/n scoffed, “Bullshit, tell him the real reason.” 

She looked at both her parents, “They don’t want me anymore. They send me away because it’s easier than disowning me, like Sirius.”

“N- No.” Regulus denied, “Mum, tell me that she’s lying.”

Silence, “Answer me, please.” Regulus pleaded as a water film glossed his grey eyes.

“She’s not lying.” Orion stated, and Regulus let his tears fall down his cheeks, “No! I won’t let you take her from me!”

Regulus stood up, and his chair flipped behind him, “If you disown her, you disown me!”

“Reggie…”

“No! Please no!” Regulus was clawing at his hair, sobbing, “Don’t take her too….” He whimpered. 

Y/n began to stand up until Walburga sent a spell her way, throwing her back. It just made Regulus cry more. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. They were sixteen! This wasn’t fair. So Regulus stood up and held back his tears. Walburga held her wand to his throat, making Y/n nervous. But Regulus was cold, ice cold. Hastily he grabbed his mother's wand and snapped it. Y/n didn’t have time to gape. Regulus ran to her, and they ran. 

Through the front door to anywhere else in the dark of the night. Orion was too busy with his wife to realize his children were gone. Y/n was sure they were miles away before they stopped. No magic could be done. They weren’t seventeen yet. They’d have to survive without magic. But then she heard it. A howl. It was a risk, a big one, but they had to take it. 

She took her brother's hand and began running towards it, “Y/n, where are we going?”

“To whatever is howling.”

“Are you mental?”

“Maybe.” Y/n shrugged. 

Suddenly he saw it. That look Sirius always had. She looked free, happy, and mischievous. Suddenly she wasn’t Y/n Black. She was just Y/n. His twin sister. The girl that would beg her brothers to adventure with her, to trust her blindly. That’s what he was doing now - trusting her blindly. They must’ve been miles away. Regulus didn’t even know how they got that far, but in the forest, the howling got louder. 

But at the edge of the forest was a black dog, guarding the entrance to the woods, making sure that no one entered. The stag was taking care of the werewolf. They took turns. One full moon, the dog, was to stand guard, next the stag. Y/n cried upon seeing the animal. She dropped to her knees, and Regulus knelt beside her. The dog looked familiar and gave them both great kisses. They fell asleep together. Y/n, Regulus and the dog. 

The following morning, James went back out to the forest after realizing Padfoot was missing. At the entrance of the forest, he saw them. The Black trio. So he left them. Sirius knew the way back; it wasn’t worth ruining their moment. Regulus stirred awake first and woke the dog. The dog left a multitude of kisses on the twins. Y/n woke up shortly after. 

Regulus was appalled to see the dog turn into his older brother but happy nonetheless, “Sirius!”

“Reggie.” Sirius replied, holding him close. 

They parted, and Sirius kissed his forehead, “How?”

“The howling.”

“How did you leave?”

“I snapped mum’s wand.”

Sirius looked flabbergasted, “Really?”

“She- She was going to separate us. I didn’t- I couldn’t lose another sibling.” Regulus admitted, and Sirius took him into his arms again, “Never again. I promise.”

Y/n chuckled, “Looks like we’re all runaways.”

Sirius grabbed her into the hug, “But we’re doing it together.”

[ladyartemesia]

The Luna

◐ PART VII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker... implied violence, mentions of blood, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, discussions or ruts, (non-explicit) kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker...

Word Count: 4200

Author’s Note: You have no idea what your support has meant to me. After getting the dreaded Covid it was awhile before I had the energy to work on this. Truly your asks and your messages and comments...they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. 

———◐——— 

Fifteen Years Ago...

———◐——— 

“It can’t be-”

“Run for the elders! Quickly! 

“Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

The red smoke was invented by the first wolf known to mate a witch. Legend has it that their bond lent him some of her magic and with it he created a mystical powder that unleashed bloody plumes like knife slashes in the clouds. 

It was a distress call. 

A wolf in danger or in need could throw the powder (usually into their fireplace) and the red smoke would rise - drawing others to their aid. 

No fire was needed and the strange shimmering clouds it produced could even be seen on a moonless night. 

“What happened? Where is the Luna?”

The chief elder was still out of breath, having charged over from his chambers to find Isa in hysterics. 

“She’s gone! Something scared her! It triggered a half-shift!”

His eyes widened in fear and alarm. 

“She’s too young to half-shift. The energy it would take-”

Isa broke into sobs again. 

The girl was only five years old. She and her wolf were too volatile to merge safely. The wolf would be frightened - it would run. 

Eventually the child might regain control, but she would have no way of knowing where she was or how she got there… 

And she would be weak. The effects of the shift were too much for a pup that age. 

The chief elder felt true terror grip his heart. 

“Call for the alphas - immediately!”

Although they were technically one of the oldest bloodlines in the village, Park Clan had only five families to its name - all betas. 

Except for one. 

Park Jimin was the first alpha ever born to the Parks and as such he became the head of his family on the day of his birth - officially the youngest clan leader in history. 

When the call for alphas spread through the village, nine year-old Jimin was roused from his bed to serve on behalf of his people. 

Clan alphas were required to report, regardless of their age. 

“I don’t have to tell any of you what is at stake. Our pack has been entrusted with the Luna’s bloodline. Her safety is our sacred commission.”

The woods were no place for a child. If fluctuating temperatures and possible starvation weren’t bad enough, there were wild bears, packless ferals, rogue witches, snakes, and worst of all-

Unblessed wolves—animals without a human heart. They were by far the most pressing danger to the little girl. 

“Surely young Park can remain at home for this,” Jeon Jinseok pressed. The boy was barely older than his grandson, Jungkook, and he was reluctant to endanger another pup needlessly. 

Some quiet murmurs of assent could be heard around the elder’s chambers, however the chief elder himself shook his head sadly. 

“I understand your concern… but the law is the law. Every clan alpha is sworn to such a task. He took an oath after his first transformation-”

“He was seven-”

“An oath is still an oath.”

All eyes turned to the gentle voice in the corner. The Park alpha looked impossibly small and soft. 

But his gaze burned with determination. 

“It is my right and duty to seek the Luna alongside all of you.” His round little jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not afraid.”

The sound of bones and sinew shifting filled the air as one by one the clan alphas fell to their wolf forms and took off into the forest. 

Until only a small silver wolf remained. 

The chief elder sighed. 

The boy would not undergo the Change for another six years. The mental link between his wolf and human forms was not yet complete. It was difficult for information to pass from one to the other. 

“You are the wolf force of Park Jimin.”

After a moment the wolf nodded.

“You were called here because the Luna has gone missing and you must find her if you can. Search the woods until your wolf force can endure no longer and then return. If you find the child, bring her home as soon as possible.”

The young wolf nodded again and then disappeared into the night. 

It was cold. 

The last thing you remembered was a loud noise. It was too close - you panicked-

Then there was heat and pain and running and now this-

Darkness and barren trees looming over you as far as your frightened eyes could see. 

“...Hello?”

Your hands were bleeding. Tears began to slide softly down your cheek as your lips trembled. 

“H-Hello?”

Jimin had never been allowed into the forest alone. A myriad of new shapes and odd smells assaulted his senses as he ran. 

He had only seen you a handful of times. 

Bright silver eyes with a smile that could set even the coldest heart into bloom. 

Now you needed him.

And he was going to save you. 

It was not a question or a matter of chance in his mind. He was meant to find you. It was as if a thread from his chest was bound to a thread from yours and his wolf knew to follow it without question or thought for its significance. 

I’m coming, little Luna. Hold on. 

Your nose was not yet fully developed, but the stench creeping through the air toward you was unmistakable. 

Unblessed. 

A soulless wolf. 

The last time you encountered it was after a hunt. Your father killed one who attacked him and he brought it home for you to scent. 

So you could recognize the smell of danger. 

Gradually two shining eyes emerged from the darkness, yet unlike the wolves of your village, these were dark and fathomless-

Hungry. 

You couldn’t tell much about its age or coloring, it was too thin - too dirty, but the bared teeth and steady progress closer signaled its intent clearly. 

“Please,” you whispered, as it crouched back on its hind legs, preparing to strike. 

Tears blurred your vision as you heard it leap forward. 

But the strike never came. 

Another wolf tackled it to the ground before it could reach you. The two of them tangled viciously in the moonlight; a terrifying mass of snarling and claws. 

The smaller fighter was already bleeding, but he clamped down on his opponent’s throat in the first hit and hung on to it even as the animal snapped and scratched brutally at his skin. 

Jimin could feel his strength beginning to fail him. The pain was excruciating, but he had to endure. If he let go, he was lost- 

You were lost.

So he held. 

And at last the soulless wolf collapsed on top of him. 

For a moment, all was quiet. 

Jimin felt the wounds over his hide begin to tug at the edge of his consciousness. Accelerated healing could only do so much... He was hurt badly. 

Then two small hands began to push at the unblessed corpse. Small huffs and heaves poured from you as you worked to free him from beneath his defeated foe. 

“Don’t be afraid, Silver,” you grunted, “Momma says the healing works best if you can get warm.” 

With one final heave you disposed of the beast as best you could, then moved to wrap your body around your injured champion. 

“I can help,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely. His soft whimpers were the only reply you received as you snuggled in closer, running your hands gently over the soft fur. 

The young wolf’s eyes were already beginning to lose focus. 

“Please goddess,” you begged into the night. “Please save him.”

Then the two of you drifted into a heavy sleep. 

Jimin opened his eyes again just as the dawn broke. 

He was still in wolf form, but the pain of his injuries had lessened considerably. 

Either that or he was becoming numb. 

His eyes dropped to the figure curled up next to him and his heart stirred. You were so pale… and he could feel your small body shivering violently against his chest.

She will not last much longer...

It took nearly everything he had to stand to his feet and nudge you awake. 

“Will you bring me back, Silver?” you asked weakly. 

Jimin nodded and the two of you stumbled forward into the forest, trusting the vague recollections of his wolf instincts to lead you home. 

Isa was beside herself with worry. Wolves came and went throughout the night-

But there was still no sign of you. 

And the odds of a child surviving the woods alone with no heat and no protection were slim at best. 

Her hands shook as she gathered feed for the horses from the storeroom near the back of the house. She willed herself to complete the task - any task - in an effort to busy her mind and perhaps achieve a moment of respite. 

Her hand closed around the back door handle and she started forward - only to nearly lose her balance over something lying on the porch. 

The bucket of feed dropped from her grasp, sending kernels of grain in all directions. 

Two bodies lay in a heap at her feet, clutching one another desperately. The Luna and her silver wolf were covered in matted blood and dirt. 

But they were alive. 

Isa began to scream, drawing out the other two occupants of the house; her husband Roojin and his younger sister, a beta healer named Ryn. 

“Oh my goddess,” Ryn gasped, “that’s the Park alpha! I heard some of the elders saying that he hadn’t checked in last night!”

“Get them inside. If we don’t act quickly we could lose them.”

Roojin tried to lift you away from the wolf, but the action was enough to rouse you and you immediately began to kick and scream frantically. 

“No! I won’t leave him!” you sobbed, wrapping your body even tighter around the injured pup. “Silver, wake up! Please wake up!”

“Baby you need to let him go! We have to treat him!”

But you were frantic, refusing - violently - to be separated from your rescuer. 

Ryn was eventually forced to grab a syringe from her field kit to sedate you. 

Isa carried your limp body to the fireplace and began to peel off your wet clothes while Ryn and Roojin dealt with Jimin’s injuries in the kitchen. Blood dripped over the tabletop and puddled ominously on the floor while they worked. 

“It looks like he was attacked.” Ryn’s eyes began to water. “What a brave little boy.”

“How the hell did he survive this?”

“I don’t know, but without a healing touch he’ll die.” She ripped her gloves off and rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Twenty minutes later Isa and Roojin caught the young healer as her legs gave out from under her. She had poured the majority of her energy into restoring the young Park alpha - perhaps more than was strictly safe-

But he would survive and that was all that mattered. 

“I must contact the elders,” Isa murmured as she helped Ryn to a seat near the hearth. “In all the chaos I forgot to tell them that we found her.”

Roojin sighed, letting his eyes drift back to the table. 

“That pup brought her back, but I wonder if they’ll even believe it. I wouldn’t - not if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“No...” Ryn whispered from the chair. “You can’t tell them about the boy.”

“Why not? He’s the only reason she’s still alive. He deserves to be recognized.”

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head weakly. “His clan is nothing. They have no power - no other alphas. This will make him a target. The alpha pups will challenge him and the stronger clans will see him as a threat to their influence…”

She pulled herself upright and limped over to the table where the young wolf slept. 

“But he's just a child….and small for his age at that. He has no powerful clansmen to protect him from the ramifications of this.” 

Her hands clenched to fists. 

“When his human form returns, he won’t remember saving the Luna. We’ll take him to his mother’s home at nightfall - make it seem like he wandered back. He may garner some respect for surviving the woods, but then they’ll leave him alone… and he can go on living his life in peace.”

Ryn turned to face them both with a determined expression. 

“We owe him that.”

“Where is the silver wolf? Where have you taken him?”

As soon as the sedative wore off you reached for the boy once again, only to find that he was gone. 

“The silver wolf was hurt very badly, sweetheart. Your aunt carried him away to be treated.”

“I have to go with him! He needs me!”

“No, honey - you can’t-”

Isa pulled you into her arms and you collapsed into helpless sobs. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with you. 

You were too weak to fight back. 

“Luna… the silver wolf is in danger. Are you willing to keep him safe?”

You nodded fiercely, letting the flow of your tears soak through your mother’s sleeves. 

“Then you must never tell another soul that the silver wolf saved you. No one can know that he was with you in the forest.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“But-”

“You will tell everyone that you found the way back alone. Do not mention the silver wolf.”

Isa lifted your chin till your eyes met hers. 

“Promise me, Luna.”

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you thought of your champion. He had spared you from a gruesome fate and you did not even know his name. 

You wanted so desperately to thank him. 

Last night, you were so cold - so afraid - that you hadn’t said it...

Now you never could. 

So instead you would protect him - no matter what it cost. 

“I promise.”

———◐——— 

Today...

———◐———  

“I don’t like him.”

Jimin tilted his head slightly toward his best friend.

“Who?”

Taehyung took a long sip of water then moved his hand to cover his mouth. To an outside observer he would appear to be wiping excess liquid from his lips. 

“The senior envoy from the Iron Claw pack.” He shook his head. “Something about him is off. He’s ill at ease.”

All the major packs of the mountain nations dispatched representatives to greet and solidify their relations with the new Alpha. 

Any pack who failed to send a proper delegation risked a diplomatic incident. 

The first twenty-four hours held great significance when it came to the transfer of power. The official term for the tradition-packed period between the revelation of the Alpha and his ultimate reunion with the Luna was called “The King’s New Moon.”

The new moon was the darkest phase of the lunar cycle and the immediate separation from his mate was meant to be a test of the Alpha’s restraint and bearing. 

Jimin wanted to put his fist through a wall. 

He missed you. 

Fighting Namjoon was nothing compared to the torture of this bureaucratic circus.

As the day progressed he was extremely grateful to have Yoongi and Taehyung at his side. Yoongi agreed to act as interim Praetor while Namjoon recovered and he and Taehyung were quick to fill in any knowledge gaps Jimin had with regards to protocol. 

The first round of ceremonial greetings between packs dragged on more than an hour before the bell struck for a brief recess. In fact, until Taehyung’s rather strange pronouncement, nearly every moment played out with boring predictability.

Though there was one notable surprise. 

Apparently the Iron Claw pack had just undergone a change of leadership and was now under the command of a female alpha named Azira Kai. 

Authority in the Iron Claw pack was traditionally decided through combat, and Azira beat nearly thirty-five challengers to ascend as queen. 

Female alphas were extraordinarily rare. Jimin knew they existed, but Azira was the first one he’d ever heard of. 

Iron Claw’s senior envoy delivered the news himself at the start of the ceremony and personally conveyed the queen’s well wishes. 

Jimin eyed the representative in question speculatively from his corner of the table. At first glance the man seemed much like every other emissary gathered in the crowded hall to fulfil centuries old obligations. But Taehyung had always possessed a strange sense about people. 

His instincts could not be easily dismissed. 

“I will keep that in mind,” he whispered as he sent the young man a courteous nod.

The sun had already begun to set when a messenger from the chief elder’s chambers arrived at your door. At long last the ceremonial requirements were drawing to a close and soon the elder’s council would be sending you instructions.

However...‘soon’ could mean anything from twenty minutes to five hours. 

“You might as well rest while you can,” Jin teased with a salacious wiggle of his brows. “Who knows what strenuous activity you might find yourself involved in when they finally let that boy loose.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment. 

“I will rest, but not for any reason you’re thinking.”

Truth be told, your nerves were a bit… frayed. 

A frustration was building within you and nothing seemed to satisfy it. You weren’t even sure what you were wanting, but you definitely wanted it. 

“Of course not,” your cousin chuckled as you gathered your gloves and wandered back to the bedroom. 

An hour later Jin’s boredom found him snuggled up on the couch near the fireplace reading over an old cookbook from your mother’s pantry.

“Heavens… no wonder Aunt Isa’s kimchi is so dry. This is a disgrace.”

Suddenly the front door began to shake and pound violently. Strange smells carried through the air and his eyes widened. 

Foreign wolves. 

He drew in a deep breath and immediately growled in frustration. 

Foreign alphas.

A small bowl of red powder sat on the mantle above the hearth. Jin just barely managed to toss it into the flames before the door splintered off its hinges. 

“Hello boys,” he drawled, unleashing a massive dose of pheromones while the knives strapped to his forearms slid smoothly to his hands. “What brings you here?”

“I just heard the strangest news,” Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the small scrap of paper passed to him by one of the council aides. 

“Oh?”

The next set of guild masters were making their way to Jimin at a snail’s pace. It would be several seconds before he needed to greet them. 

“One of the healers sent word that Namjoon has disappeared from his assigned recovery room.” He shook his head curiously. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. 

That mangy mutt. He’s probably bent Yunli over every surface of her brother’s house by now. Goddess above! He couldn’t hold out for six more days? 

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

I should have killed him. This is a disaster. He can barely walk, how does he expect to-

“The Miner’s Guild is honored to serve at the pleasure of the Alpha.”

Jimin nodded regally and forced up a pleasant smile. 

“The honor is entirely mine, Master Lee. I look forward to-”

A loud crash split the solemn hush of the room as a young member of the council guard burst through the heavy wooden doors. 

“Red smoke! Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

Jimin felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

Chaos erupted immediately. 

“Call for the guards!”

“We must notify the healers.”

“The messengers just spoke to her-”

“Is it an attack?”

“ENOUGH!”

The Alpha’s voice cut across the assembly with authoritative resonance. 

Every eye turned to him in expectation. 

But he could only think of you. 

“Jung, lock the building down. Take your clansmen and seal off every entrance.”

Murmurs began to stir through the hall as Hoseok directed his people toward the access points, but he ignored them. 

“Choi. Make for the healers. Have a dozen of them meet us there.”

Jimin was already heading for the door. The deadly length of his claws flashed ominously in the firelight. 

“Kim, Min, Jeon - with me.”

The three alphas in question fell in step behind him without a word. 

The scene at the Luna’s home was nightmarish. 

Jimin ran to your room immediately, but all he found was a broken window and the lingering scent of your fear. 

His wolf howled in anguish as he fell to his knees and screamed in rage. 

At the front of the house four badly beaten bodies lay strewn about the kitchen and living room area. Most of the furniture was destroyed and the scent of carnage soaked the air. 

“Jin!”

The omega stood at the center of the rubble. There was a nasty slash running up his right leg and another grievous wound near his ribs. 

But his arms were wrapped around a massive foriegn wolf with the thin blade of his favorite knife pressed against the intruders throat. 

“What happened here?” Yoongi gasped. “And that smell-” he moved his hand to cover his nose. 

��Pheromones,” Taehyung nearly gagged. 

His eyes fell to the corpses - examining their injuries with a critical gaze. 

“Jin, you dangerous bastard.”

The omega simply smiled and forced the prisoner onto his knees. 

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook shook his head. 

“He flooded them with omega pheromones... These four were unmated.” The Kim alpha let out a cold chuckle. “He triggered their ruts… and they killed each other over him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. 

Male omegas really were terrifying.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed and he considered the scene. 

“None of this makes sense. The scent markers are clearly from the Iron Claw pack. They didn’t even bother to mask…”

Jungkook and Yoongi began to search the bodies for any hint of their motives or identity when Jimin returned from your room. His fury was palpable in the air around him. 

“Why would anyone kidnap a Luna?” he snarled. “The divine bloodline is sacred to all wolves. Who would be so reckless?”

Jin shook his head.

“I don’t know.” His knife twisted into the prisoner’s neck. “But he does.”

Jimin crouched down in front of the foreigner, fighting every urge in his soul to tear the mountains apart for his mate.  

“Where is she?”

The prisoner sneered.

“You may be a powerful Alpha, but you are not of my pack or my blood.  I’ll never tell you anything.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s eyes flashed with golden fire, “I think you will.” 

Heavy. 

That was how you felt. 

Your body was sore (like it had been tossed and carried a long distance) and your mind was out of focus (as if everything around you was moving either too quickly or too slowly - honestly you couldn’t quite tell).

You remembered being drugged; some sort of compound pressed against your nose and mouth.  

Glass from the window shattered onto your face…

Then unfamiliar scents and unfamiliar hands closed in on all sides. 

Too fast for you to react.

Too shocking for anyone to have predicted. 

Nothing like this had ever happened and there was no reason to believe it would. 

To harm a Luna was sacrilege. 

It was simply not done. 

What could drive men to such a course of action? 

You should be afraid; terrified even.  

But you weren’t.

Your eyes fluttered open to take your new surroundings. You could vaguely see the shape of seven or eight wolves - alphas by the smell of them-

And then you smiled. 

It wasn’t your usual impish grin or anything close to soft or inviting. 

It was a cold twist that crept over your lips as you watched your abductors set up their camp. 

After a moment, one of them noticed your strange expression. 

“Looks like the little Luna hit her head on the way here,” he called out to his comrades with an amused snort. “You should have been more careful with her, Mac.”

He shook his head and made his way over to where you were tied up. The young alpha reeked so heavily of sweat and self-importance, you almost gagged. 

“What’s got you so amused, Miss Luna?”

It was more of a taunt than a question, but your smile widened nonetheless. 

“My mate is going to kill you.” 

Shock flickered over his features for just a second before he threw his head back and laughed. 

“We’ll be long gone before your sweet little alpha even knows we’re here.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you snarled. “We masked our scent as soon as we got you - and there isn’t a wolf alive that could track our crew through the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered. 

Jimin’s face flashed through your mind - followed immediately by another memory, buried deeply, but never forgotten—

of a frightened little girl and the silver wolf who braved the forest and fought a monster to save her. 

“He’ll come for me - no matter what precautions you’ve taken.” You leaned forward a bit, letting the conviction in your gaze blaze through to the depths of your captor’s soul. “And then - he’ll come for you.” 

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! (I know it was kind of unexpected right?) Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! 

[lauralot89]

i’m gonna go off on a completely stupid and unnecessary rant that no one will be able to reblog because it ain’t that serious and also because my opinion is the only right opinion

a werewolf is a creature that is sometimes a human being, and sometimes a wolf

it is a combination of two existing animals into one being, that can change between those two states

it is not some weird amalgamation of a human and a wolf, it is a creature that sometimes has the shape of a human and sometimes has the shape of a wolf

the earliest mention of werewolves in Greek mythology for example, is Herodotus recording that a tribe northeast of Scythia all transformed into wolves once a year for a few days

wolves.  not wolfmen.

King Lycaon was transformed into a literal wolf as a punishment by Zeus.

Saint Augustine said, “It is very generally believed that by certain witches' spells men may be turned into wolves...”

in the poem Bisclavret, written around 1200 CE, the titular werewolf almost falls prey to the king’s wolf hunt.  because he looks like a wolf.

From the Wikipedia:

The appearance of a werewolf in its animal form varies from culture to culture, though it is most commonly portrayed as being indistinguishable from ordinary wolves save for the fact that it has no tail (a trait thought characteristic of witches in animal form), is often larger, and retains human eyes and a voice. According to some Swedish accounts, the werewolf could be distinguished from a regular wolf by the fact that it would run on three legs, stretching the fourth one backwards to look like a tail.

The only culture i’ve found that describes its werewolves as wolfmen is Turkish folklore, which I doubt was inspiring movies like Werewolf of London and The Wolfman, which unfortunately gave us this bipedal wolf-human Animorph mid-transformation nonsense

what did give us that nonsense, i’m certain, was the fact that the special effects industry in the early era of film could not possibly turn a human actor into a convincing four-legged wolf, and for whatever reason they couldn’t or didn’t want to use dogs in the stories they were filming

also maybe the actors wanted more face time or something, i don’t know, you couldn’t pay me enough to sit for hours getting crepe wool glued to my face

it looks silly

i’m sorry, there's like one bipedal werewolf in the history of cinema that doesn’t look dopey and that’s it

they’re not scarier

yes i know fear is subjective but again, my opinion is right

i guess you could argue they’re unnatural but again, to me that just says “this is unnatural because it’s a person in a silly costume”

in conclusion

this is a werewolf:

this is a fursona:

this is a werewolf:

this is a man with hypertrichosis:

this is an oversized werewolf:

this is a sickly chupacabra:

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

What’s Mine Is Yours (To Leave or Take)

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): a/b/o, intersex omegas, accidental pregnancy, mpreg (see ao3 for full list of tags) Rating: explicit

Chapter: 4

•  prev | next •  WMIY Masterpost

Fic Summary: Geralt has knows since the trials that, unlike other omegas, he will never become pregnant, never raise pups and live a normal life. But after a close call finds him and Jaskier in bed together, he discovers he was wrong about that assumption.

[read it on ao3]

@writinglizards I can’t help with your work issues, but I can offer you a bonus chapter in the hopes that it helps your night get a teeny bit better ❤ 

Travelling without Jaskier is… weird, to say the least. It's quiet and Geralt's not sure how he got by without Jaskier in the evenings to fill the silence. But he goes on, as usual, heading toward Lyria and the contract. The road is long and it's been years since he's been this far East, so it's unfamiliar to him and takes him longer than he'd like to get anywhere.

The kingdom is beyond the mountains, so Geralt makes his way through the pass, skirting around Vengerberg, and arriving early in the evening. As soon as he introduces himself, Geralt is escorted to the king's receiving room, still dusty from the road, tired and grouchy. The only thing he's grateful for is the way the King's advisor winks at him conspiratorily and assures him she'll find him a room with a bath. If he wasn't so relieved, he might be upset that she's taunting him, but she smiles kindly and her scent doesn't offer anything but sincerity so Geralt trusts her - as well as he trusts any nobles or their guards.

Even when Geralt is brought before the king, he finds his attention wandering. He taps his fingers against his leg impatiently, eyes flicking away to the window. He doesn't feel ill, per se, but he feels off and he'd like to get to this room and rest as soon as possible. But the king awaits him, sitting atop an ornate throne and Geralt resists the urge to roll his eyes, if only barely. He doesn't have the time for people who waste money on chairs of gold while their people work themselves to exhaustion in the fields. Still, he bows in greeting and keeps his tone polite.

"Witcher," the king says and Geralt grits his teeth at the name.

"King Casimir. I saw your notice back in Vizima, perhaps I could be of some assistance." Suddenly, Geralt's stomach rolls and he bites it back, just barely refraining from leaning on the nearest table.

"I certainly hope so," the king says gruffly, "whatever this creature is, it's invaded the castle."

"Why don't we sit down and you can tell me more, give me some idea of what I'm up against."

"I haven't hired you yet," the king reminds him as though Geralt isn't very aware that everything he does is at the pleasure of someone else. Right now, he doesn't care, he just wants to get off his feet.

"Of course, your majesty."

Geralt barely even grumbles when he says the words and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the advisor barely concealing a grin. Geralt follows the king to a door at the side of the room, inside of which there is a table with many chairs around it. He waits for the king to sit, then takes his own seat when directed to.

"I suppose we'd best get on with it," the king mutters, "there's something killing my people, Witcher, and I want it dealt with."

"Of course. How many victims have there been so far?"

"Only three, but one was my cook. Everyone has been on edge."

"No doubt. Tell me about the bodies, what did they look like?" The king just stares blankly at him, evidently offended that Geralt thinks he might lower himself to tending to the victims himself. This time Geralt really does roll his eyes. "Then I'll have to speak to whoever found the bodies and whoever tended to them afterward. But first, payment."

"I'll pay you whatever it takes to get this beast out of my home."

"If it's inside the castle, it's probably something that can change shape - vampire, werewolf, maybe a doppler if they were under someone's influence. I won't take less than 300 Gulden for that. More, if it gives me trouble."

"Yes, yes, just deal with it."

Geralt sighs internally but agrees. He's eager to get to it or to get to his room so he can bathe and relax because the not-quite-right feeling is getting stronger. But the king calls in a servant to draft up a contract and Geralt is forced to wait about half an hour before it's finished and he can sign it and leave.

When he's finally allowed to leave, the advisor shows him to his room - a large one, as promised, with a bath in one corner, already filled and streaming. Geralt sighs with relief and the advisor smiles and bids him goodnight. Geralt's shoulders slump as the door shuts behind him. He wishes, not for the first time, that Jaskier was with him. He wants someone to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, but more than that he aches for the feeling of Jaskier's fingers in his hair as he soaps it up. Maybe it's just because Geralt isn't feeling like himself and Jaskier is a comfort to him, but he suspects it's more than that.

He strips down quickly and climbs into the tub, sinking up to his chest in warm water and sighing contentedly. For the first time since he parted with Jaskier, Geralt is able to relax, if only for a moment. He considers what the king said to him and makes a mental list of people he has to speak to, but that can wait until the morning. If it's a vamp, it's not going anywhere and he will be able to hear it if it's around tonight - if it's a werewolf, he has two days until the next full moon so he's not in a rush.

Geralt washes his hair and slides his hands down his stomach, rinsing the sweat from his skin. But his gut clenches as he slides lower, a reminder of how long it's been since he's enjoyed anyone's company, how badly he misses it. Maybe if he just… jerks off really quickly. He doesn't have to drag it out, just a quick wank to cut the tension, the irritability that seems to be creeping up on him. But as soon as he touches his cocklet, already firming up under his fingers, he knows it won't just be quick.

Already he's remembering Jaskier's body against him, his hands on him and he wants that feeling again, or wants as close to it as he can get. He's not thinking when he slides down and pushes two fingers into his cunt, when he shifts and spreads his legs to find that particular spot that makes him crazy for it. He's working off memory alone; Jaskier's lips, his hands, his cock. Jaskier buried deep in his cunt, whispering soft praise in his ear as he fucks him. Gods, he wants him.

Geralt shuts his eyes, lips parting instinctively as his own body and its movements fade, replaced by the truly lifelike fantasy.

Fantasy-Jaskier crawls up between his legs, hands on the tub on either side of his shoulders and Geralt shudders at the thought of him. Jaskier dips down, mouthing at the side of his neck and Geralt tips his head to the side as if he was really there, making space for Jaskier to mouth at his throat. His memory is so strong, Geralt can practically smell him, the thick scent of citrus and spice now muted by Jaskier's arousal. It engulfs Geralt, makes him as brainless and wanting as if Jaskier was right there with him.

When his fingers push deeper, he imagines Jaskier's cock sliding into him, wonders vaguely if he could get his whole hand inside him - would it feel like Jaskier's knot? Would it be as good? Fuck, he wants to try.

He's fucking himself in earnest, one hand sliding over his cocklet while the other thrusts into him and there's a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" he calls, startlingly breathless already.

"Irena. The advisor," comes the response, "the serving ladies would like to have a word with you."

"About the monster?" Geralt grunts, slowing his motions but not stopping. The Advisor has a lovely voice, he might even be inclined to invite her in, under different circumstances, but when she answers in the affirmative, Geralt just groans to himself, stroking his cocklet a few more times before stopping altogether. He's not sure what's gotten into him, what's making him so damn horny.

"Alright," he relents, frustrated, "just let me get dressed."

The serving girls are surprisingly helpful. They tell of a large looming creature, which doesn't really rule out any of his theories, but they do recall seeing claw marks on the floor in the cook’s room when they went to fetch him the morning he was discovered. Without seeing the marks himself - or the body - Geralt can't make a firm guess, but it does narrow down his possibilities. Claws mean most likely a vampire or werewolf. He's not delighted at the prospect of fighting either, with the way he's feeling, but he'd rather a beast attacking of its own volition than a doppler forced into servitude.

By the time Geralt falls into bed that night, he's exhausted and any thoughts of continuing what he started in the bath are quickly discarded. He's still feeling a little pent up, or maybe it's just the adjustment to not having Jaskier with him at all times. Geralt falls asleep quickly, and wakes early, spending the majority of his morning and afternoon questioning anyone who's been in the castle in the last month.

He's leaning into the werewolf theory, having pieced together that the last attack took place during a full moon (and there hasn't been another since). The younger servants are terrified and don't want anything to do with Geralt or the monster, but many of the older ones are willing to help if it gets rid of the beast. Soon, Geralt finds himself down in the dungeon face to face with the last victim.

His wounds are very clearly from a werewolf, which is both good and bad for Geralt. Good because the full moon is tomorrow but bad because it means he only has the one chance to kill it - or more likely, he only has a day to find out who it is to try and cure them. The king had implied that it had to be someone working in the keep because they had free reign of the castle, so that makes Geralt’s job easier, but that's still a lot of people.

Then, just when Geralt thinks he's finally getting somewhere, his body turns on him.

[witcher-and-his-bard]

What’s Mine Is Yours (To Leave or Take)

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): a/b/o, intersex omegas, accidental pregnancy, mpreg (see ao3 for full list of tags) Rating: explicit

Chapter: 4

•  prev | next •  WMIY Masterpost

Fic Summary: Geralt has knows since the trials that, unlike other omegas, he will never become pregnant, never raise pups and live a normal life. But after a close call finds him and Jaskier in bed together, he discovers he was wrong about that assumption.

[read it on ao3]

@writinglizards I can’t help with your work issues, but I can offer you a bonus chapter in the hopes that it helps your night get a teeny bit better ❤

Travelling without Jaskier is… weird, to say the least. It's quiet and Geralt's not sure how he got by without Jaskier in the evenings to fill the silence. But he goes on, as usual, heading toward Lyria and the contract. The road is long and it's been years since he's been this far East, so it's unfamiliar to him and takes him longer than he'd like to get anywhere.

The kingdom is beyond the mountains, so Geralt makes his way through the pass, skirting around Vengerberg, and arriving early in the evening. As soon as he introduces himself, Geralt is escorted to the king's receiving room, still dusty from the road, tired and grouchy. The only thing he's grateful for is the way the King's advisor winks at him conspiratorily and assures him she'll find him a room with a bath. If he wasn't so relieved, he might be upset that she's taunting him, but she smiles kindly and her scent doesn't offer anything but sincerity so Geralt trusts her - as well as he trusts any nobles or their guards.

Even when Geralt is brought before the king, he finds his attention wandering. He taps his fingers against his leg impatiently, eyes flicking away to the window. He doesn't feel ill, per se, but he feels off and he'd like to get to this room and rest as soon as possible. But the king awaits him, sitting atop an ornate throne and Geralt resists the urge to roll his eyes, if only barely. He doesn't have the time for people who waste money on chairs of gold while their people work themselves to exhaustion in the fields. Still, he bows in greeting and keeps his tone polite.

"Witcher," the king says and Geralt grits his teeth at the name.

"King Casimir. I saw your notice back in Vizima, perhaps I could be of some assistance." Suddenly, Geralt's stomach rolls and he bites it back, just barely refraining from leaning on the nearest table.

"I certainly hope so," the king says gruffly, "whatever this creature is, it's invaded the castle."

"Why don't we sit down and you can tell me more, give me some idea of what I'm up against."

"I haven't hired you yet," the king reminds him as though Geralt isn't very aware that everything he does is at the pleasure of someone else. Right now, he doesn't care, he just wants to get off his feet.

"Of course, your majesty."

Geralt barely even grumbles when he says the words and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the advisor barely concealing a grin. Geralt follows the king to a door at the side of the room, inside of which there is a table with many chairs around it. He waits for the king to sit, then takes his own seat when directed to.

"I suppose we'd best get on with it," the king mutters, "there's something killing my people, Witcher, and I want it dealt with."

"Of course. How many victims have there been so far?"

"Only three, but one was my cook. Everyone has been on edge."

"No doubt. Tell me about the bodies, what did they look like?" The king just stares blankly at him, evidently offended that Geralt thinks he might lower himself to tending to the victims himself. This time Geralt really does roll his eyes. "Then I'll have to speak to whoever found the bodies and whoever tended to them afterward. But first, payment."

"I'll pay you whatever it takes to get this beast out of my home."

"If it's inside the castle, it's probably something that can change shape - vampire, werewolf, maybe a doppler if they were under someone's influence. I won't take less than 300 Gulden for that. More, if it gives me trouble."

"Yes, yes, just deal with it."

Geralt sighs internally but agrees. He's eager to get to it or to get to his room so he can bathe and relax because the not-quite-right feeling is getting stronger. But the king calls in a servant to draft up a contract and Geralt is forced to wait about half an hour before it's finished and he can sign it and leave.

When he's finally allowed to leave, the advisor shows him to his room - a large one, as promised, with a bath in one corner, already filled and streaming. Geralt sighs with relief and the advisor smiles and bids him goodnight. Geralt's shoulders slump as the door shuts behind him. He wishes, not for the first time, that Jaskier was with him. He wants someone to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, but more than that he aches for the feeling of Jaskier's fingers in his hair as he soaps it up. Maybe it's just because Geralt isn't feeling like himself and Jaskier is a comfort to him, but he suspects it's more than that.

He strips down quickly and climbs into the tub, sinking up to his chest in warm water and sighing contentedly. For the first time since he parted with Jaskier, Geralt is able to relax, if only for a moment. He considers what the king said to him and makes a mental list of people he has to speak to, but that can wait until the morning. If it's a vamp, it's not going anywhere and he will be able to hear it if it's around tonight - if it's a werewolf, he has two days until the next full moon so he's not in a rush.

Geralt washes his hair and slides his hands down his stomach, rinsing the sweat from his skin. But his gut clenches as he slides lower, a reminder of how long it's been since he's enjoyed anyone's company, how badly he misses it. Maybe if he just… jerks off really quickly. He doesn't have to drag it out, just a quick wank to cut the tension, the irritability that seems to be creeping up on him. But as soon as he touches his cocklet, already firming up under his fingers, he knows it won't just be quick.

Already he's remembering Jaskier's body against him, his hands on him and he wants that feeling again, or wants as close to it as he can get. He's not thinking when he slides down and pushes two fingers into his cunt, when he shifts and spreads his legs to find that particular spot that makes him crazy for it. He's working off memory alone; Jaskier's lips, his hands, his cock. Jaskier buried deep in his cunt, whispering soft praise in his ear as he fucks him. Gods, he wants him.

Geralt shuts his eyes, lips parting instinctively as his own body and its movements fade, replaced by the truly lifelike fantasy.

Fantasy-Jaskier crawls up between his legs, hands on the tub on either side of his shoulders and Geralt shudders at the thought of him. Jaskier dips down, mouthing at the side of his neck and Geralt tips his head to the side as if he was really there, making space for Jaskier to mouth at his throat. His memory is so strong, Geralt can practically smell him, the thick scent of citrus and spice now muted by Jaskier's arousal. It engulfs Geralt, makes him as brainless and wanting as if Jaskier was right there with him.

When his fingers push deeper, he imagines Jaskier's cock sliding into him, wonders vaguely if he could get his whole hand inside him - would it feel like Jaskier's knot? Would it be as good? Fuck, he wants to try.

He's fucking himself in earnest, one hand sliding over his cocklet while the other thrusts into him and there's a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" he calls, startlingly breathless already.

"Irena. The advisor," comes the response, "the serving ladies would like to have a word with you."

"About the monster?" Geralt grunts, slowing his motions but not stopping. The Advisor has a lovely voice, he might even be inclined to invite her in, under different circumstances, but when she answers in the affirmative, Geralt just groans to himself, stroking his cocklet a few more times before stopping altogether. He's not sure what's gotten into him, what's making him so damn horny.

"Alright," he relents, frustrated, "just let me get dressed."

The serving girls are surprisingly helpful. They tell of a large looming creature, which doesn't really rule out any of his theories, but they do recall seeing claw marks on the floor in the cook’s room when they went to fetch him the morning he was discovered. Without seeing the marks himself - or the body - Geralt can't make a firm guess, but it does narrow down his possibilities. Claws mean most likely a vampire or werewolf. He's not delighted at the prospect of fighting either, with the way he's feeling, but he'd rather a beast attacking of its own volition than a doppler forced into servitude.

By the time Geralt falls into bed that night, he's exhausted and any thoughts of continuing what he started in the bath are quickly discarded. He's still feeling a little pent up, or maybe it's just the adjustment to not having Jaskier with him at all times. Geralt falls asleep quickly, and wakes early, spending the majority of his morning and afternoon questioning anyone who's been in the castle in the last month.

He's leaning into the werewolf theory, having pieced together that the last attack took place during a full moon (and there hasn't been another since). The younger servants are terrified and don't want anything to do with Geralt or the monster, but many of the older ones are willing to help if it gets rid of the beast. Soon, Geralt finds himself down in the dungeon face to face with the last victim.

His wounds are very clearly from a werewolf, which is both good and bad for Geralt. Good because the full moon is tomorrow but bad because it means he only has the one chance to kill it - or more likely, he only has a day to find out who it is to try and cure them. The king had implied that it had to be someone working in the keep because they had free reign of the castle, so that makes Geralt’s job easier, but that's still a lot of people.

Then, just when Geralt thinks he's finally getting somewhere, his body turns on him.

[skrltwtch]

Silverware

Prompt: on a first date and A is a werewolf and doesn’t know the cutlery is silver (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,897 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

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I buried my nose in the bouquet of lilies and roses Jake had bought for me. It was the perfect emblem of summer with its warm, sunny hues and fresh, tangy scent — and the perfect segue to the next part of our date. The first part was a visit to the local farmers market, out of which we were now walking. Coming here had been his suggestion. It was something different from the usual first date stuff like coffee or a movie, and I liked it a lot, notwithstanding my initial reservations. I liked him a lot after what I’d seen of him at the market. I felt like the place helped bring out a certain spark between us. For one, there was constant talk about planning for date number two using what we’d seen and bought. If that wasn’t promising, I didn’t know what was!

‘Thank you, Jake. I love it,’ I said about the bouquet.

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said, a broad grin brightening up his face. ‘And thank you for the flavoured olive oil. Makes me kind of wish we didn’t have this dinner reservation …’ His grin turned sheepish in nature. ‘But that’s what’s making me look forward to our next date.’

See?

‘Do you want to call for a taxi or walk?’ he said.

‘What time’s our reservation?’

‘6:00 p.m. on the dot.’

My watch came alive with a flick of my wrist. ‘Let’s walk, then. I want to walk off all the cheese I sampled.’ I’d sampled a lot. In my defence, it was almost that time of the month — and that other time of the month. ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Google Maps can teach me.’

The route Google Maps recommended was scenic. London Bridge looked lovely at this time of day. Its appeal was heightened tenfold with Jake by my side. Could you believe we met on Tinder? It still felt unreal to me. Getting this match used up all my good luck for the year, and we were only at the halfway point. Well, if it meant burning the roof of my mouth most of the time I ate to be able to quit the dating scene for a reasonable amount of time (“once and for all” seemed a little ambitious, though that would be nice), who was I to whinge about the hand fate had dealt me?

The restaurant was located within the Four Seasons. We had been overdressed for the market. Now we were … dressed. I was flattered as fuck that he picked such a lavish place for dinner for a first date. I hadn’t the faintest clue what it was about my profile and our conversations that made him think of a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel. I did try to talk him out of it (gently). It wasn’t about the cost. Food was one of the things I was more than happy to splurge on. It was just … I never had anyone think this highly of me before, and I wondered if that’d change if … and when … he knew the truth about me.

The host led us into the main dining room and to our table. An amuse-bouche and warm bread came together with the menus. The prices were as expected of the type of establishment this was. Everything sounded good, though this was my first time coming across some of these words. Looking up what each one meant would add to the time something would take to reach our table, and my stomach would sooner eat itself out of desperation.

‘Please don’t hold back,’ said Jake, sensing my indecision. ‘The price is not an issue.’

I did have to hold back. The coincidental timing of this month’s full moon and crimson tide amplified every-fucking-thing I could possibly feel to a divinely hellish degree in the days leading up to them. As it was, I could easily polish off a five-course meal by myself. If Jake wanted this date to go in a less chaste direction after dinner, hell would freeze over before I’d even dream of talking him out of it, first date etiquette be damned. Was the fact that he was such a goddamn catch helping anything? Absolutely fucking not.

‘No, it’s not that. I can’t — I can’t decide what I want,’ I said. It was technically true. I was torn between the beef (never mind that it was £98) and veal … and both of them at once. ‘What are you having? Maybe I can get some inspiration from you.’

‘I was thinking the turbot … or the pigeon. Yeah, I can’t make up my mind either. I’m leaning toward the pigeon …? No, the turbot. Or the scallops …? Fuck. I need an adult.’

‘Let’s choose for each other.’

‘Promise not to hate each other’s choices — or each other?’

‘Pinky promise.’

We locked our pinkies together. I hoped touching him would never grow old.

Once our promise had been sanctified and we separated from each other, Jake signalled for the nearest available waitstaff. One came over almost instantly. The restaurant was bustling with activity, a far cry from however long it had been since we arrived. She took our order in a cordial fashion, not making a bigger deal of how we were ordering for each other than it should be. I chose the scallops for him; he chose the veal for me. I convinced him to start our evening with the langoustine; he sweet-talked me into ending it with the rhubarb. The waitstaff validated all our choices with a knowing smile.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask — and I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here,’ Jake started when our table was just the two of us again. ‘How did you get that scar on your arm?’

It was a matter of time. And bless him. I would never be offended by being asked about the memento of what’d changed my life forever. I would be offended by an adverse reaction to how exactly my life had been changed forever. I raised my arm, giving the scar in question its time in the limelight: brownish-pink, leathery circles arranged in the shape of a crescent, the ones at both ends abnormally large and ragged-looking.

‘My ex-boyfriend’s dog bit me,’ I said. More like my ex-boyfriend was the offending canine. ‘That’s not why he’s an ex, in case you were wondering.’ I’d wanted to be turned. He’d been more than happy to lend a helping set of fangs. Sadly, the idea of us being cute werewolves together was yet another one of those things that simply sounded nicer on paper. It wasn’t all sour between us. We’d sometimes meet for romps. It got lonely sometimes, and it wasn’t like there was an online forum for werewolves to socialise or whatever. I doubted he’d have known of one anyway: he was literally an American werewolf in London.

‘Did it hurt? It’s such a huge scar. Did anything happen to the dog afterward?’ He held up his hands. ‘Am I being nosy? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

I smiled in the hope that it’d soothe his worries. ‘You’re not being nosy. It was … okay for what it was.’ Euphoric. ‘The dog’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to punish it for an instinct thing.’ Yup.

‘That’s good to hear. I think it’s a bad-ass scar. And I didn’t think it’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Thank you. Most people did. Yeesh. Give me some credit.’

‘I’m not most people … I hope.’ He smirked. The apples of his cheeks turned pink.

He really wasn’t. And I wanted so badly to tell him the truth there and then to see if that’d still hold true in the face of a bombshell like that. I had yet to tell anyone about my lycanthropy: if movies, television shows, books, etc., were anything to go by, I’d assume most people would react with fear or disgust, or both. Chris had been thoroughly flabbergasted when I reacted the way I did to learning why he always turned down my suggestions to go stargazing on nights with full moons. I got what I wanted … eventually.

Maybe I should tell Jake sooner than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Then I wouldn’t have wasted my time having pined for someone who thought I was some kind of freak of nature.

That conversation — or rather, thinking about that conversation would have to wait, as our starter, bearing a strong resemblance to a flower arrangement with colours befitting the season, had arrived. Food was always the perfect diversion. So would the inevitable back-and-forth about who could have the third and last langoustine. Splitting it was not an option, for one piece was as big as my thumb. I loved the portion sizes of frou-frou fancy food. So much bang for one’s buck.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Jake. ‘That’s one of … four French phrases I know. The other three are “bonjour”, “omelette du fromage”, and — I can’t say the last one in a public place.’

‘Is it by any chance … “voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir”?’ I made no effort whatsoever to lower my volume — or maintain a straight face. Brazenness blazed through my cheeks.

He put a hand on his chest, feigning surprise. ‘Well!’ He tittered. ‘Since you asked ever so nicely, and in French … This is why your choices tonight have been shellfish, isn’t it?’

‘You got me.’

‘Looking at their portion sizes, I don’t think your plan’s going to work very well. Not that I’d need the help of — shut up, Jake.’

‘Keep going, Jake’ was what I’d have said and wanted if my stomach hadn’t started getting on my case for letting good food get cold. (‘Rubbery lobster? Gross!’) There was something hot about someone like Jake — a posh, proper Englishman, the polar opposite of Chris … okay, no, stop bringing him up, stop thinking about him, goddammit — talking openly, confidently, about his prowess. Such words … coming out of his mouth … in that accent … I quickly pressed my legs together to quell any desires. Which hunger of mine was responsible for this?

Wanting to satiate the one appetite I could at this very moment without earning myself prison time for my troubles, I said, ‘Bon appétit, Jake’, and picked up my fork … which promptly fell onto my plate with the fucking loudest clang. The smell of burning flesh tickled my nostrils — my burning flesh. My fingers were sizzling where the fork touched them. Sizzling! I prayed it was only my nose that could pick up this delectable aroma.

I stared at the cutlery. Trust a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel to use real silverware, not that cheap silver-plated shit. I prodded the fork handle — and withdrew my finger immediately. Not one of my finer moments. Please don’t tell me Jake saw it.

‘Is everything okay?’ said Jake.

Ah, fuck.

‘Yeah,’ I said, examining my palm. Good news: the burn hadn’t healed and wasn’t healing as quickly as my wounds and injuries (not that I had many of them) did after I was turned, so that was one less question to dodge. I didn’t want to keep lying to Jake. I didn’t like that I had been. How would I explain the absence of a second-degree burn that existed mere seconds ago anyway? Bad news: was this never going to heal because of what caused it? I had been so careful with silver since I was turned. How would I explain a perpetual second-degree burn? Would it out me as a werewolf to people who knew what to look for? Was now really the time for Twenty Questions?

Noticing Jake had been waiting on me to provide some kind of elucidation on my well-being, I said, ‘I guess I have a silver allergy. Can you believe it? Who’s allergic to silver?’

He didn’t need to say, ‘What kind of allergy burns someone?’ for me to hear it in my head.

‘Can you eat, then?’ he said.

I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, silver was lethal. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. If a perpetual second-degree burn was the worst thing to come out of fleeting contact with the metal, so be it. I’d consider myself a lucky lycan indeed.

‘Pardon me,’ Jake said to the waitstaff who’d come with our entrées, ‘would you have any disposable cutlery perhaps? My lady’ — he did not — ‘is allergic to the silverware.’

The waitstaff did an excellent job of not acting like this very dashing gentleman had just dropped the barmiest string of words on her during her entire employment in this line of work. Even I didn’t quite believe it myself. ‘I’ll see what we have, sir, ma’am,’ she said, cool as a cucumber. After she finished setting down our food, she collected all the silverware on my side of the table and left.

‘I don’t think whatever she comes back with would help with your veal. I could cut it up for you?’ said Jake.

Oh, my God. Getting burnt by silver must be the universe’s way of course-correcting the unusual jackpot I’d hit with him. Good Tinder matches were a myth!

‘No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’ll manage … somehow,’ I said. The wooden cutlery the waitstaff had returned with didn’t inspire confidence in me to not fling a piece of meat or a utensil at someone while cutting into my food.

‘We could swap dishes. I’d be fine with the veal. It was in my top five earlier.’

I suffocated a sigh. His scallops looked more like an appetiser than a main. But what choice did I have? I could either eat the veal like the animal that put me in this position or go through the restaurant’s entire supply of wooden cutlery with nothing to show for the effort in my belly and possibly injure someone in the process. Neither option would do any favours for my image in the eyes of the guy I liked and whose bones I’d like to jump at some point, enhanced animal lust or not.

So, I agreed. I tried to draw out the meal for as long as I could. Between the teeny serving and the unwieldiness of the wooden cutlery, I was having a miserable time. Dinner had become a silent affair, a far cry from everything prior to this point. Contrary to the vibe I was putting out, the food had nothing to do with my dour mood. For the first time since I was turned, I wasn’t happy about what I was. Could I never truly lead a normal life? Did I have to lie to every potential suitor and fret about whether they’d accept that other side of me on top of all the intricacies of dating?

There ought to be a dating app for verified supernatural creatures.

‘How’s the veal?’ I said. I had to speak up: I wasn’t being fair to Jake by acting like a sullen teenager over something he had zero control over, and the silence was deafening.

‘It’s — I might’ve done you a favour. How about my — your scallops?’

‘As good as three bites can get. I can’t tell if it tastes funny because of the wooden fork.’

‘This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?’ He flashed a wry smile. ‘Can I be honest? I have no idea what possessed me to pick a place like this for a first date.’

‘It’s a nice place. And it hasn’t been a disaster.’ If anything, I was the disaster. As always.

‘How was the market?’

‘The market was great. I had an amazing time.’

‘Thank God. I’ll take one out of two.’

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He made things extra saucy by interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘Jake, it’s fine. Today has been wonderful. I should be sorry for making things awkward with my … allergy.’ Nope, that still sounded silly.

‘What? No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

It … kind of was.

‘How about ice cream after this? My treat. I’m certain the rhubarb will be so very pretty and so very … nothing.’

He hit the nail on the head. The food we had would do wonders for my Instagram feed while having done nothing for my diet. I appreciated his offer, though I was afraid it would take more than ice cream to fill me up properly … Then again, that was a problem that rested solely in my dominion, not his, and it was one I intended to solve by trawling the likes of Deliveroo and Uber Eats in the comfort of my underthings at home — the one true way to enjoy food.

I asked for the bill the second dessert arrived. I wanted to leave here as soon as possible. I had quite enough of the wooden cutlery. I felt like a child using them. And like I told Jake earlier, I was on the fence about whether to attribute the food’s slightly off taste to them or my unrefined taste buds. Even the rhubarb wasn’t spared. Dessert was supposed to be my safe space, dammit!

I footed the bill in its entirety despite his objections. It helped that the waitstaff presented it to me because I’d been the one who asked, and that I was quick with my card. Sisters watching out for each other, everyone. The plan was then to go about the rest of the evening as if it had slipped my mind to ask him for his half or even bring it up in the first place. It was the least I could do for putting a wee damper on dinner with my … me-ness. He was going to treat me to ice cream anyway. There. We were even now.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry: Jake snatched the bill folder and, taking out his phone, said, ‘Do you have Paym, Pingit, or PayPal? Why am I only noticing now that they all start with P?’

I admitted defeat: ‘Paym.’ It might be harder for him — or anyone — to believe I had none of those apps than that I was a werewolf. Did I want to put that to the test? No.

My phone buzzed with the confirmation that my plan had been a dud. ‘Thank you. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand and head to a real one.’

We left and worked on our next destination outside the restaurant. The staff had to want us out of there as much as we wanted ourselves out of there. The time of day meant we had limited options: ice cream parlours in London seemed to think people would lose the mood for sweet treats the moment the sky turned dark and the air cooled. Inanity. We had to return to where our date started for the one place that was open at this hour. It was just as well: I needed the walk this time to clear my head after what happened at dinner. It hadn’t seemed to dull the shine of his opinion of me, at least. He was as chipper as ever. Unless he was a good actor and paid up as soon as he did so he could ghost me after this and find himself a date that didn’t have some bogus allergy to silver …

Me? Over-thinking things? Never.

‘Do you want to do takeout or eat in?’ I said when we found ourselves less than fifty metres away from the parlour tasked with plying us with ice cream for tonight without a say in the matter.

‘Let’s do takeout and walk back to Borough Station. Full circle.’

The place was crowded: the most logical outcome for the only ice cream parlour open at this time near a tourist hotspot in the middle of summer. Customer turnover was quick, however, and we left with our orders within fifteen minutes. As tempting as their sundaes and waffles — towering, decadent creations of sugary indulgence — looked, we went back to the basics after our overly sophisticated dinner. Unlike before, what we wanted came to us in a snap: for myself, a speculoos gelato; for Jake, a gelato, too, but make it salted caramel.

And this time, we could help ourselves to each other’s food. With permission, of course.

‘A fraction of the price, but infinitely better,’ I said.

‘I hope the same can be said of our second date.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Dinner at Chez Walker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so.’

‘It would have to be the weekend after next, though.’

‘Why? Got another date next Saturday?’ I had a firm enough grip on reality to recognise and accept that a guy like him had to be neck deep in matches.

‘No … next weekend’s the full moon. I thought you’d know.’

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Why would I?’ I buried my stammer under a bemused scoff. Like, why would anyone — any not-werewolf, which, as far as Jake was concerned, was what I was — care to know when the full moon was?

He, too, stopped walking and looked me dead in the eye. ‘Imogen, I know what you are.’

I wiped my palms on the front of my dress. They were suddenly so sweaty. So sweaty. Why were they so sweaty? Could he see that they were so sweaty? I tried to defuse the situation the best — and maybe only — way I knew how: ‘Are we quoting Twilight? I’ll have you know that I liked the book when I first read it in 2007. And I thought the movie wasn’t too bad either.’ This was true, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Any female millennial who said they had felt nothing for Edward Cullen was a filthy liar.

‘I’m not ashamed either to say I read the book and watched the movie. But I’m serious.’

‘Okay … say it, then. Go on.’ Was that how the line went? I wasn’t going to look it up now. On a list of things that mattered in this moment, accurate movie quotes was nowhere near the top twenty.

‘You’re a werewolf. And I know how this sounds, so don’t humour me or —’ His tone had taken on a jittery lilt, uncharacteristic of someone who ought to be humoured, ridiculed (what his next word had to be), or — my worst-case scenario — feared.

‘How did you know?’

His mien changed in a manner that suggested that wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Fuck it. Chris had trusted me enough to tell me the truth after a handful of dates, and he did it because he liked me a lot and he wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that we could move on in some way. (Me asking him to turn me was the real curveball of that conversation.) The least I could do, really, was to extend that same courtesy to Jake. I liked him. I liked him a lot. If he had a problem with what I was, it was better that I found out now that he did than many months down the road. There was no element of compromise to my … condition.

‘You mean I’m —?’

‘Right? Not crazy?’ I showed him my palm. The burn had taken about an hour to reach the healing stage normal people would reach in a week or so. ‘Yeah.’

‘Damn …’ He cleared his throat. ‘How did I know? I was brought up on a steady diet of horror movies and read way too many young adult supernatural books in the day, more than I’d care to admit. That, and my ex-girlfriend’s second uncle was killed by a werewolf.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m kidding — about the last part. The first two are true. My ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and one of her uncles — I can’t remember which one; it could’ve really been her second — was with a werewolf when we were together. Vampires and werewolves get along quite well, actually.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘How the tables have turned … I’m not.’ He went through his phone with his free hand and, upon finding what he’d been looking for, passed it to me. ‘Look.’

On the screen was a photo of him with his arm around a hazy figure in clothes that were otherwise in focus.

‘Drove me quite mad at first, thinking something was wrong with my phone. Then she went a little … overboard once, and the rest was history. She shared everything about her world — your world — with me. And I’m also in several online paranormal communities, so there’s that. It’s not all as hush-hush as one might think. It just takes an open mind.’

I returned his phone to him. ‘How did you figure me out?’

‘Your “allergy”. I had my suspicions about your scar. Your reaction to the silverware confirmed them. Allergies … don’t do this.’ He took my hand and stroked my palm. The sensation of his fingers on the raw skin was … electric. ‘I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position and you weren’t ready to tell me. What I said … just slipped out. I understand. It has to be fucking terrifying. It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again after this. But I want you to know that what you are doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you. How you were turned is none of my business. The whole thing is, really. I did an arse thing. I’m an arse. First with the goddamn restaurant, now this. Way to fucking go, Walker,’ he said to himself quietly.

I flung my empty gelato container into the nearest bin, and then my arms around him. I helped throw away his for him, too. ‘You’re not an arse, Jake. This doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you, too. I like you a lot.’ His cheeks flushed deeply under the moonlight. ‘I was freaking out about this whole thing during dinner because I like you a lot. I am so relieved that we’ve gotten to lay our cards on the table.’ I fanned myself with my hand. Don’t cry, Imogen! ‘And because I don’t want there to be any more lies between us, it was my ex-boyfriend who turned me, and he did it because I wanted it.’

‘Oh. Yeah, it still doesn’t change a thing.’ His lips landed on my forehead in a peck. ‘Okay, I never imagined the topic of our exes would come up so often during our first date. Oh, well. Guess they had more of an impact on us than we’d like to think.’

‘Yeah’ — I chuckled, ‘let’s keep walking.’

I peeled myself off him. Our hands remained intertwined. Like dinner, the remaining walk — as short as it was — to the station was a quiet one. Unlike dinner, it was more so that we were simply basking, revelling, in the afterglow of our attraction to each other and each other’s presence. The world felt right again, just as it did at the farmers market.

The next time we spoke was on the train platform. ‘Thank you for the lovely time,’ I said, ‘and for being such a sweetheart.’ I waved my bouquet at him. It still looked pristine despite all the walking we did. ‘For everything.’

‘Thank you, too. I had an amazing time with you today. I can assure you that Chez Walker will serve larger portions than what we had earlier.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘The weekend after next, then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’d be down for any time before the weekend, too, if Chez Walker is open then.’

‘I’ll speak with the chef.’

He moved in for a goodbye kiss, which I seized wholeheartedly. His smell and the sound of his heartbeat flooded my senses. I could feel his heart beating against his chest under my touch, thumping, thumping away for every second our lips lingered on each other’s. I had to contain myself and keep things G-rated and light, as such kisses were wont to be, though my instincts were screaming, baying, at me to get to satisfying at least one craving tonight. I was the one to break off the kiss for fear of going too far.

‘Just in time,’ said Jake, his eyes doing that thing they did whenever he smiled. ‘My train’s here. I’ll see you next week?’

‘I thought you said you’ll speak with the chef about next week.’

‘I realised I don’t care what the chef thinks. He’ll be fine with it anyhow: he doesn’t have to bust out the good silverware.’

‘Goodbye, Jake.’

‘See you, Imogen. Message me when you get home?’

‘I will.’

We waved at each other, right before the train doors swallowed him up. My train came soon after, too. I spent the entire ride home wondering not what to fill the void that was my stomach with, but what fresh hell the universe had in store for me in return for scoring me a guy like Jake.

[yungidreamer]

Claimed

Summary: An intruder enters the territory of Chan and his pack, attacking people and causing havoc. Seemingly by chance he saves a victim that turns out to be his mate, but as fate would have it, he happens to be a wolf at the time. How will he protect her, come clean, and claim his mate?

Word count: 8.2k

Content warnings: slightly dark themes, a werewolf serial killer who is a vindictive asshole, impregnation kink, marking, minor descriptions of violence, sort of stalking, sort of possessive behavior. Some cursing.

Music: Come Out by Lenise Morales and War of Hearts by Ruelle

“Come on, boy,” she said, patting her leg and holding out the leash. “Let’s go on a walk before it gets too late.” Chan hopped up off his round dog bed near the couch, wagging his tail as he came to her. He sat patiently, turning his head to let her reach the leather collar she had put on his neck. Jesus, his pack mates would be in hysterics if they saw him like this, he thought to himself. But he could have endured the embarrassment for her.

How had he ended up like this? Really, it was a mix of destiny and bad luck on  both of their parts. He honestly never thought he would meet his mate when he was in his wolf form and hurt on top of it. Fights weren’t something he got into that often and something he avoided when he could, but that night three months ago he had caught that piece of shit lone wolf stalking her.

Why the loner had picked her, he had no idea, but Chan had to be grateful in some ways. How long would it have been before he ran across her if not for that? Jesus, what if he had gotten there too late? He didn’t want to think about it.

That night he had been sent to track the interloper that had been causing havoc in their territory. He was the first of the pack to actually find him, which must have been luck since Minho was generally the best tracker and Changbin a close second. They had taken the two days before and barely missed catching him at the no-tell motel he had been staying at and at some restaurant where he had mauled some poor woman heading home after her shift. Changbin had been furious with himself for not tracking him fast enough and had been the one to find her bloodied and crying near the back door of the restaurant. He had shifted back to human and called 911, telling them he had been passing by when he heard her crying, a plausible enough story not to raise any suspicion. Besides as far as anyone involved knew, it was a rabid dog attack… a massive rabid dog.

Tracking was exhausting work and got shared amongst all the members of the pack. The third night had been his job and he had taken a neighborhood near the one he had been stalking, suspecting he had moved his hunting grounds but not that far. His hunch had been right, but it was pure luck that he had come across the scent of the intruder as he patrolled, just hoping to catch some hint, some clue.

That whiff had pulled him down an alley and into the strip mall parking lot of the craft store. For the life of him, he could not figure out why on earth he would pick this sort of place. The parking lot was half empty since most of the stores were already closed… except the big hobby shop. The sodium orange lights of the parking lot had flickered and buzzed, bothering his sensitive senses and it must have done the same for the lone wolf… so why on earth would he choose to hunt here.

Chan had spotted him, in human form, leaning casually on a planter half a dozen meters from the entrance to the store taking a drag on a hand rolled cigarette. He had let out an involuntary huffing sneeze, hating the smell as it drifted to him. That had given him away. Even if he hadn’t been able to sense that he was a fellow werewolf, no dog would have been wandering around alone in a parking lot here, like this, at this hour.

“I’m surprised you found me, rover,” the loner had chuckled, self-satisfied and amused. “I would have let you guys be, but you couldn’t just let me hunt a little.” Chan had growled as he watched him stand up, letting the shadows and flickering lights obscure his face as he pulled himself into a standing position. He had moved fast, charging at Chan and drawing a knife just before he got within an arm's length of him. Chan dodged but not fast enough, and the knife caught him in the ribs, grazing over a couple of them before he could dig his teeth into the man’s arm.

“Fuck,” the man yelled, punching Chan in the jaw to force him to let go. Stars sparkled in his vision and pain sliced through him as the knife slid along his collarbone and upper leg. He had gotten one last swipe in before retreating, leaving Chan bloodied and limping.

A safe place to shift was what he had needed, there surely would have been someplace nearby, a little alcove or alley between a couple of the shops, but before he could get very far, she had stepped out of the store, locking up and leaving for the night.  Chan froze. He had been slinking away, slowly trying to get out of view, but was still very clearly in view when she had stepped out. His pain had blinded him to other sensations at first, but even before she turned and saw him, it hit him like a freight train.

Mine the sensation said with a ferocity he had never felt before. Why he had to find his mate like this, he had no idea. He wasn’t particularly unlucky. He didn’t spend tons of time as a wolf either. His pack was pretty chill and was pretty careful to stay below the radar. Their territory was safe and they were known for not being overly territorial, letting people pass through without a problem so long as they left and didn’t make problems. So how he ran across her while he was shifted and injured was just stupidly bad luck.

She had gasped when she finally turned around and saw him, but who wouldn’t when they turned around to see a massive dog behind them limping and bleeding. A moment’s fear had shot through her at the sight until Chan had whimpered, flattening himself on the pavement to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Hey puppy,” she said softly, putting out her hand for him to sniff as she leaned down, slowly coming closer. “Can I take a look at you?”

Yes please, he thought, rolling gently onto his uninjured side.

“What on earth happened to you… boy?” She asked, catching sight of his belly. “I don’t suppose you are going to make this easy on me and would just get in my car if I brought it around?” She sighed and patted his head. Rubbing his head into her hand, he rolled back over and pulled himself up to stand again. “Maybe you can just come with me, hmmm?” Standing up, she started to move towards her car, keeping an eye on him as he slowly limped behind her. She opened the back door to her car and patted the seat, inviting him to hop in, which he did quite happily. “Well at least that was easy.” She observed, closing the door behind him as he laid down on the back seat. “Now we just have to go spend my whole paycheck at the emergency vets.”

Sorry, he said to her in his head. I’ll pay you back when I can. Pain pulsed through him as the city lights swished over him in the back seat. The emergency vet clinic was only a half an hour away but that was way longer than he would have ever wanted to have to lay bleeding in the backseat of a car. In fact, he really was sure he could have gone his whole damn life without knowing what that felt like.

He was tough, he was the alpha of the group, though he didn’t enforce a hard hierarchy like some did. They were more family than anything else. They looked out for each other, did their part, contributed in any way that they could. It worked well for them and everyone was pretty happy with the arrangement. It was just his job to be the final voice when decisions needed to be made or to speak for the group when dealing with outsiders.

“Can you get up, pup?” She asked when she opened the door in the parking lot of the vet’s office. Chan nodded, though it probably didn’t look like it, what with being a dog and all, and stood up on slightly shaky limbs. Thank god they were close, he thought to himself as he stepped out the door and onto the pavement.

“I need some help please,” she said as they stepped through the automatic sliding door of the clinic.

“Oh my god,” the woman behind the counter said when she caught sight of him, picking up the phone on the desk and hitting a couple of buttons. “Doctor West we need you in reception now please, and bring whoever is back there to help.” She hung up the phone and dashed out from behind the desk. “What on earth happened?”

“I don’t know,” she said looking down at Chan as she kept a hand on his head. “I was just coming out of work and found him like this in the parking lot. Maybe he got cut getting out of a yard or went through a window or something?”

The receptionist had shrugged, it seemed like as good an explanation as any. They had taken him back, stitched him up and scanned him for an ID chip, which, shocker, he didn’t have. With no one else seemingly accountable for him, she had decided to take him home, saying she would try and find his owners. For now, she would pay for the vet bills and she just had to hope whoever owned him would pay her back. Though honestly, given the shape he was in, she wasn’t holding out hope there was someone, or at least someone responsible.

That was how he had ended up here and stuck in his canine form way more than he was used to. The one upside was that he was with her. She had spent a couple of weeks hanging up posters with his picture, but eventually just decided to adopt him herself, leaving him in the weirdest bind he could imagine.

The first few days he had stayed just because everything hurt too much to do anything else. I’ll change back soon, he told himself, I just need the stitches to heal a little first. Then one evening when she came home he could smell him and cigarettes on her and his heart had clenched. The loner had been there for her? For his mate? At that moment, that realization he had a feeling he never would have thought possible. Thank god I was the one that got stabbed. That had settled it. He had to be there, he had to stay and protect her, at least until the intruder was caught.

Not long after that he had shifted when she was off at work, finally getting in touch with his pack. After the understandable chewing out he let Jisung give him since he had basically disappeared without a word for DAYS, he explained what had happened and told him to pick someone to shadow her while she was out or at work. Jisung agreed, letting out a low whistle at the story and the news that he had found his mate. Chan left the details to him and the others, still not feeling even 50% if he had to be honest. He trusted them and for now, he was stuck.

Now it had been three months and the loner was still on the loose and still in their territory. They had no idea why and he had only attacked one person since that night. Now and again, when she came home from work, he would smell him on her, and still other times, he would catch the smell of the loner when they walked through the neighborhood. But it was never enough, never that fresh, and he had no idea how he was flitting around so close yet so far.

Jisung had the brilliant idea of getting one of them hired to work with her at the craft store. Chan had to admit, it had been a good idea, it kept someone close, but it probably wouldn’t have been the solution he would have wanted. Smelling Changbin on her every night when she came home from work rankled him an unbelievable amount, despite the fact that he knew nothing was happening with them. But between smelling his pack mate and the loner on her, and being unable to do anything with her aside from pretending to be her pet was going to drive him mad.

How on earth was he supposed to tell her who he really was? Buck also couldn’t just disappear. And yes, she had named him after the dog in Call of the Wild which was both adorable and painful. She was attached to him...just the wrong him. He needed to come clean but, aside from breaking to her that werewolves existed at all, something that would most likely freak her out, saying, surprise (!) you know that dog you’ve been letting sleep in your bed and changing in front of… well, he’s actually a guy. Because, you know, that would go over really well.

So that was how he ended up on the end of her leash, heading out for a walk. If he didn’t have to do this as a dog and have to make a show of going to the bathroom on these walks, he would be far happier. It was nice being out with her, he just wanted to be able to do it as a person, maybe holding her hand, though he might have tolerated a collar and leash if she really liked it for some reason.

Chan walked ahead of her, scenting the air as they made their evening loop of the neighborhood. All seemed well and normal for the most part, at least for the first half of the walk. But as they made the turn that would head them back towards home the scent of the loner drifted across their path. Chan stopped, causing her to bump into him and make a little sound of surprise as she accidentally stepped on one of his back feet.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” She asked, looking in the direction he was looking. “Did you see something?” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer and, after pausing for a few seconds, she moved past him, trying to snap him into moving again. Chan stepped in front of her, preventing her from going as he tried to place where the scent was coming from. “Come on, boy, I want to go home.”

I know, he said mentally, willing for her to understand him. Trust me, me too. Suddenly he saw it, the shape of another of his kind skulking on the other side of a cinder block wall. It’s dark chestnut fur moved slightly in the breeze as the animal stayed stock still. In a split second, it dashed back behind the wall and Chan gave chase. He pulled his leash out of her hand, sending a mental apology to her, and immediately gave chase. He couldn’t let this just keep going on. She called out his name, well the name she had given him, as he disappeared behind the wall, giving chase.

Quick as a flash, he saw the tail disappear around the back of the house on the other side of the block wall. He skidded around the corner, keeping the scent trail of the intruder under his nose. The chase led him through alleys and back yards as they ran and dodged. Finally he saw him disappear over a high fence and Chan lept after him, feeling like he was finally gaining on him.

When he landed he heard a snap and knew immediately that he had made a mistake. A sharp pain shot through his front leg. It had all been a plan, been a trap to get him here, to get him trapped… and to leave her alone. He had never really felt as stupid as he did right now. He finally gathered the will to look down at his leg to see it clasped in a leg hold trap, cut and bleeding, but thankfully not broken, probably by sheer luck. He couldn’t run like this and he had to get back to her.

With a gulp, he changed back, needing the dexterity of human hands to get out of the contraption. It pinched harder, stinging his nerves as his leg turned into an arm, thickening in the vice like grip. It took him a moment to stop seeing stars and then another to figure out how to press down the sides of the trap to open it. When he was finally free, he looked around. He had to get out but running around naked and bleeding was a great way to get the cops called on him.

Making his way to the edge of the neighboring yard, he looked over the wall to see laundry hanging on a line outside. He hopped over the wall and took a t-shirt and some pants, promising to try to remember to bring them back when he could. Once he was dressed, he ran. He ran towards where he had left her; ran like his life depended on it. Ran because hers probably did. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed back to where he had left her.

Suddenly he heard a scream rend the air and he felt his whole body go cold. So stupid, he berated himself as he willed his body to move faster. Turning the corner a couple of blocks from where he had left her alone, he saw her… and him. The loner had cornered her against a fence in the front yard of some house, a hand around her throat and a knife pressed against her ribs. Without a second thought, Chan rushed forward with a guttural growl. The loner heard him and turned. Momentarily distracted from her, he didn’t notice when she jerked herself down, loosening his grip enough on her neck to fall in the direction opposite the knife he held on her. With his attention torn between two people now, Chan had the upper hand and wrestled him away from her.

“Run,” Chan commanded her as he tackled the loner to the ground. They rolled and grappled like gladiators, vying for dominance, both ignoring her. Something that turned out to be a mistake on the part of the loner. Just as he rolled on top, pinning Chan by gripping his injured arm, she rushed toward them, picking up the dropped knife and driving it into his back. The loner let out a rage filled scream and rolled away from them both as he changed back into his wolf form. Running away as quickly as he could manage and disappearing into the neighborhood.

“Are you okay,” Chan asked, getting up and grasping her upper arms. Her face was a mask of shock, eyes wide and not really seeing anything. “Look at me. Tell me that you are okay.”

“I have to find my dog,” she said, her eyes flashing around them, yet she didn’t pull away. “I think he tried to chase that thing away. He ran off and I need to make sure he’s okay… he was already hurt and…”

“I’m okay,” Chan said to her, giving her a little shake to get her attention. “I’m Buck. You found me in a parking lot and saved me. It’s me.” Her eyes snapped to his face and she went white. “I was following him that night, trying to figure why he was here. That’s how I got hurt, but that’s how I found you.”

“You were looking for me, too?” She shrank back, her eyes searching for something in his face.

“No, but,” Chan sighed. He needed to come clean but this wasn’t the place. Not in the open, not in someone else’s yard. “Let’s go home. Please. Can we talk there?”

“Home?” She asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“Your home,” he corrected. “Just, let me explain. Give me a chance.”

She looked down at the arms that were holding her, finally noticing his cut arm. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not that bad,” he let go of her arms, trying to hide his injury a little.

“Let me take care of it,” she offered timidly. “Then we can talk.” Chan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. With a nod he led them both back to the house, keeping a gentle hand on her wrist as they walked. He needed the assurance that she was there, that she was safe.

She followed, letting him take the lead, slightly unsettled by how well he knew the way to her house. Part of her still didn’t believe him. But then again, she had just seen a man change into a dog or… wolf maybe, and she couldn’t explain that. She had never seen him before and yet he knew her dog, he knew where she lived, he had saved her. She wasn’t 100% sure, but something told her to trust him.

When they got to her house, she let them in and Chan pulled her inside, locking the door behind them before tucking her behind him as he scanned the room and tested the air inside the house for anything amiss. When he was satisfied that it was safe, he stepped further into the living room and headed towards the bathroom to care for his arm. He really knows where everything is, she thought as she watched him head there without hesitation. Stepping up to the sink he started running warm water, dipping his arm under the spigot to rinse it. He hissed as the water hit the wound, a tingling pain shooting outwards from it.

“Here,” she stepped up beside him, dampening her hands and lathering them so she could gently wash his wound. Chan sucked in a breath between his teeth at the sting. “Sorry,” she said softly.

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her. “I appreciate you helping me. I owe you my life twice over now.”

“Seems like both times it was because of me anyway so…” she didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on what her hands were doing.

“It’s not your fault,” Chan soothed. “We should have gotten him out of here long ago. He just… he keeps slipping away.”

“So what are you?” She asked as she patted his skin dry with a towel. 

“Werewolf,” he replied softly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded and pulled some gauze and tape out of the cabinet behind her. Kneeling down in front of him as he sat on the toilet, she spread some anti-infection cream over one of the wounds before putting gauze over it and taping it down. She did the same with the other side, then wrapped both with a sports wrap to keep it secure on his arm.

“What’s your name?” She asked, finally looking up at him.

“Chan,” he replied gently, reaching out to cup her cheek. “My name is Chan.”

“That fits better than Buck,” she gave him a nervous smile and laugh.

“God I love hearing my name on your lips,” he admitted. He leaned forward hesitantly, giving her a chance to pull away, taking her lips with a gentle firmness. She tasted like heaven, even better than he had dreamed those nights when he lay beside her in bed pretending to be her pet.

What am I doing, she asked herself, feeling a fuzzy, intoxication filling her brain as his lips pressed against hers. His tongue darted out against her bottom lip, begging her to open to him. Why did he taste so good, she wondered as she shivered under his touch. He was hardly the first guy she had kissed but he felt different and she didn’t understand it. She didn’t know him at all, despite the fact he seemed to have been living in her house for months.

“Love, I… I need,” Chan pulled back and stepped away from her. “We need to talk.”

“Sorry,” she leaned back, not meeting his eyes, wiping her lips to try and erase the distracting sensations.

“No, don’t apologize,” he soothed, reaching out to her. “I just need—” he broke off. “I need you to understand.”

“What do I need to understand?” she asked him, frustration coursing through her.

“You’re mine,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I knew it the moment I saw you that you were supposed to be mine. I protect what’s mine. But I need you to choose me. I can wait. I can send someone else to stay here and protect you. Just… I need it to be your choice because once I have you. I’m not letting you go.”

She should have been afraid, she should have made him leave and run as far as she could as fast as she could. But something in her trusted him. No that wasn’t strong enough. Something said he was right, they were a part of each other.

“Okay,” she nodded as much as she could, still restricted by his hands on her face.

“What?” He asked, his eyes searching hers, trying to divine what she was saying.

“I understand,” Her hands came up to loosely grip his wrists, guiding his hands down from her face. She leaned forward, bringing her lips to his.

“Wait,” Chan took a step back, having to use all his willpower to do so. “You’re sure?” She nodded and his will broke. It had taken so much of him to pull away, to do the right thing. He hadn’t expected her to accept him and what he was. With a desperate hunger, he smashed his lips into hers as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. He already knew the place well enough he didn’t have to take his lips from hers as he took them both to her room. He tossed her onto the bed and crawled in over her, pressing her into the mattress with his body. He was pure muscle as he pressed himself against her, she could feel it even through the odd mismatched clothing he was still wearing.

“Chan,” she breathed when he shifted to kiss along her cheek.

“Say it again,” he groaned, grinding himself against her. “Say my name.”

“Chan,” her hand tangled in his hair, holding him close. He pulled back, only long enough to strip off the shirt and to slip the borrowed jeans off his hips. He covered her still clothed body with his, drawing her arms around his neck. She moaned underneath him, parting her thighs to let him settle between them.

“I think I’m a little overdressed,” she pointed out.

“I can fix that,” he grinned, rolling them both over. With hurried hands he pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra before sliding it off her arms and tossing it across the room. His pupils widened as he took in her bare breasts. They looked soft and inviting and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to cup them. She giggled and covered his hands with hers. Sliding backwards off him, she unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Chan propped himself up on his elbows and took all of her in with his gaze. Her hands lifted to cover herself and he sat up, grabbing her wrists to stop her. “Don’t hide…” he blushed slightly as he admitted it, “You’re so beautiful.” He pulled her down to straddle him, running his hand over her waist and thighs.

She leaned down, bringing her lips to his as his hands wandered over her body. He had thought about this moment for months. Being so near her and having her not notice him, not see him had been killing him. So close, yet so far. Every night when she changed for bed, he had done his best not to stare as she stripped and put on her pajamas, only peeking a few times. Everytime she wrapped her arms around him and cuddled into his fur as she went to sleep. He had wanted to change, to confess, to throw himself on her.

Now he had her holding him as his human hands wandered over her soft curves and it was even better than he had dreamed. She smelled like heaven. Like the forest in summer and fields of wildflowers. He wanted to take her in every way possible. Kissing along the side of her neck, he buried his face in her shoulder, pressing her body against his tightly. He wanted to taste her, to feel her flesh in his mouth, to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

He knew why. It wasn’t that he wanted to eat her. The bite would mark her as his to any other wolf that might cross her path. It would meld them together according to their customs and the rules of the pack. The mark would claim her as his alone and give her the protection of the pack.

Breathing deeply, he fought the urge. He needed to do this right. I’m not an animal, he reminded himself, rolling over and moving them both to the center of the bed. Her pleasure had to come first.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. “I just want you to feel me.” She looked into his eyes for a second before nodding and closing her eyes as she laid on the bed beside him. Kissing her lips, he tasted her with a slow and lazy sense of leisure, reminding them both they had all night. He licked and nibbled at her lower lip, letting out an involuntary whine as he asked her to open to him. She parted her lips and let him in, still allowing him to set the pace, to guide her. His tongue thrust into her mouth with a hungry confidence. He devoured her like a sweet dessert, enjoying her taste with a slow deliberation. As he did, one hand played lightly over her chest and collarbone. His touch was as light a feather, teasing her with the contrast of sensations.

Leaving her lips, he slid himself down her body, dragging his lips and tongue over her neck to the center of her chest. He could hear her heart beating under her delicate rib cage, fluttering like a wounded bird. The sound stirred the animal inside him. Was she afraid? Her scent tickled his nose telling him that she was mostly aroused but underneath it was a faint sliver of fear. It wasn’t a fear of him, or at least not a real fear of him. It was the type of fear that makes a rollercoaster fun or that tickles your stomach when you stand near the precipice of a mountain and take in the wonder of the view. That frisson of a potential danger that was entirely unlikely, but not impossible. Looking up her body, he saw her bite her lip in anticipation of… something, of him.

He slid between her legs and moved lower on her body. He kissed and nipped at the flesh of her belly; so soft and vulnerable. The wolf in him loved that she trusted his teeth there. His wolf could have ripped that flesh with such ease and the fact that she trusted him like this made pleasure rippled through him. Moving lower, he settled himself between her thighs, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Can I taste you?” He asked, nuzzling against her inner thigh.

“Yes,” she nodded, squeezing her eyes tightly as her hands fisted around the blanket beneath her.

“Show me what you like,” he instructed, licking a line up the slit of her body. “Let me know how to please you.” She nodded, her hands fidgeting with anticipation. “Baby girl, you can look at me now.”

Opening her eyes, she looked down the line of her body to see his hungry eyes fixed on her. Chan’s hand reached up to take hers as he held her hips down with the other, keeping eye contact as he made a testing thrust of his tongue into her. She gasped and squeezed his hand. Satisfaction settled in his chest and he threw himself into pleasing her as he read her body. He licked and nipped and sucked at her until she came apart underneath him with a strangled cry. She was beautiful and he had never felt as powerful as he did in that moment.

He needed to take her, to fill her with his seed until he was sure she would bare his child. An image of her, round with child, floated through his mind. Yes, the wolf inside him growled, take her. Chan slid up her body and positioned himself at her entrance as he pulled her into a kiss. She could taste herself on him as he stole her breath.

“Are you ready for me, baby girl?” He asked, brushing hair off her face.

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes hazy as she looked up at him. “Please, I want you in me.”

“I would give you anything you asked for,” He admitted, coaxing her thighs around his hips. “Have you… done this before?”

“Yeah,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” he nodded, a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hold back. Holding her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes as he curled his hips into hers with a slow deliberation. He watched as her face filled with wonder at the feel of his invasion. When he was finally seated fully inside her, he paused, taking a moment to enjoy the way her body stretched to accommodate him. It was like she was built to hold him.

“Can I move?” He asked softly, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

“God, yes, please,” she nodded, digging her nails into the skin and muscles of his back. Smiling down at her and keeping eye contact, he pulled himself half way out before thrusting back inside her. She sighed at the delicious friction. His body felt so good inside her, felt like it belonged, or perhaps that they were becoming a part of each other. Chan moved slowly, relishing this moment. She shivered, her hands grasping at his wide shoulders as he moved.

“Please,” she said again. “I need more.”

“Anything for you,” he soothed, placing a few kisses across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He pulled his hips back and plunged inside her, going as deeply as he could. Setting a steady rhythm, Chan buried his face in her neck as he began to let go and lose himself in the feeling. She filled every sense of his. Her smell, her feel, and the taste of her skin under his lips. Even her pants and moans filled him as they teased his ears in the quiet of the room. Her limbs held him close, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling. 

Pleasure rose inside him and he knew there was only so long he would last like this. He wanted to feel her come around him, feel her body milk him as she came beneath his touch again. Her heels hooked around the back of his thighs as she arched against him. The slight change in angle let him brush the sensitive spot inside her, making her quiver and gasp.

“Harder, there,” she begged, a desperation growing inside her.

“Are you close,” he questioned, his face tucked in against her neck.

“So close,” she whimpered, her nails raking his spine.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” Chan panted. “I need to hear you cum.” She whined and moved restlessly against him as the warm pleasure pooled in her stomach. He put his lips to the thrumming pulse of her throat.

“Chan,” her voice was barely a whisper when the knot of delight finally snapped inside her. As her body gripped him, he bit the flesh where her neck and shoulders met marking her as his. The shock of pain melded with her orgasm sending a cascade of sensations through her. With a final thrust he came inside her, filling her body with his emissions. He stayed like that until he felt her move restlessly beneath him and only then, reluctantly pulled out and moved to curl up beside her on the bed.

Her hand went to the bite on her neck. It still stung slightly but not nearly as much as she thought it should. Chan splayed a hand over her stomach, rubbing it in small circles.

“Are… are you okay,” he asked, looking at her lovingly as he laid beside her.

“Yes,” she nodded, taking her hand from her neck. “I didn’t expect you to bite me.”

“Just this once,” he promised, pulling himself closer to her. “It marks you as mine, gives you the protection of my pack. You’ll carry a little of my scent now.”

“Oh,” she blushed and looked at him. “Am I supposed to feel different? I don’t feel any different.”

“No,” he chuckled and smiled at her. “It’s something only my kind would notice.” She nodded and laced her fingers with his where they laid on her stomach.

“Did you do it so that he, whoever he is, would know?” She questioned. “Was this all just to, I don’t know, put him off?”

“No, although I would be happy if it did,” He gave her an adoring look. “This was because you were meant to be mine. Meant to be the mother of my babies; to be by my side for as long as we live.”

“So you want children,” she laughed.

“I want to see you filled with my child,” he admitted, his eyes going to where his hand lay on her. “I want to see it grow inside you. I want to raise it with you, watch it grow into someone as beautiful as you are.”

“Someday,” she nodded. “But I’ve been on birth control, so I don’t think we could just yet.”

“The bond,” he explained. “When I claimed you with my mark, it sort of…” he paused, searching for the right wording. “It opens you to me.”

“Oh,” she blinked at him a few times, trying to process what he was saying. “Even if we just… this one time?”

“Maybe,” he furrowed his brow slightly. “If  you don’t want, at least not yet,” sitting up, he moved to help her walk to the bathroom. “We can try to clean you out, maybe prevent it.”

“No, it’s just a lot to adjust to,”  she explained. “A lot has sort of happened since this morning.”

“I know, baby girl,” he laid down again and pulled her into a spooning position against him. “Let’s go to sleep for now and figure out the rest in the morning.”

Over the next few days neither of them left the house. She called in sick to work, not wanting to put either of them in danger by going out to a place he could so easily find and potentially corner her. Even with Changbin there, with so many people and such a big space, it would be possible to miss him, or at the very least, to not notice him until it was too late. Instead his pack mates came over to plan their next move. Chan spent most of his time planning with Minho and Changbin, setting patrol schedules and scout missions for everyone. Hyunjin was assigned the duty to investigate at the hotel and talk to the woman who had been mauled. Maybe it wasn’t a random coincidence that he had picked her, Felix had suggested after their second meeting. After all, if he was just looking to hurt people and just stir up trouble here, why target her? Sure it could have been a coincidence if he had just been foiled and chosen another target, but he hadn’t.

The suggestion had made Chan go cold. It made sense, but what had made him target her? There wasn’t something particularly special about her, except that she was his mate, but even he hadn’t known that yet. Was it possible the loner had some way of knowing even before Chan did? As far as they knew, it wasn’t possible to know but, still the thought lingered.

As the meeting was drawing to a close, Chan’s phone rang. Hyunjin was calling him from the hospital where he had gone to talk to the other victim.

“Chan?” There was a slight edge of panic to Hyunjin’s voice as he spoke.

“What’s the matter?” Chan asked the other boy, worried immediately by his tone.

“She’s… she’s my mate,” Hyunjin whispered into the phone.

“What?” Chan had a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. He stood up, needing to see his mate, to touch her and know that she was there and fine. He found her sitting at the table in the kitchen, snacking on something as she read.

“I’ve never met her before,” Hyunjin started to explain. “But I felt it the moment I walked into her room. She was just lying there, still sleeping, so hurt, and it just hit me. Her scent and just her presence; I know she’s mine.”

“How did he know?” Chan asked, pulling his own mate against him as he spoke.

“I don’t know, but this can’t be a coincidence,” Hyunjin insisted.

“I know,” Chan agreed.

“Look,” Hyunjin sighed. “I can’t leave her alone here. I have to stay for now.” Chan understood, letting him stay with the promise to send someone else to keep watch over her tomorrow so he could get some rest and come back to discuss what to do next.

“I hate this,” Chan said, as he sat at the cafe a block away from the craft store.

“We can hear everything that is happening,” Jisung assured him. “She’ll be fine, but we need him to come out.”

“I know,” He shifted in his seat. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They spent the afternoon waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Over an open line, Chan, Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin listened as she went about her day like everything was fine and normal. She helped customers, stocked shelves, and worked at the register, all while Chan was on the edge of his chair, waiting for something to happen. But, it seemed, it was all for nothing. The sun set and the store closed and seemingly all was well. She locked the front door and set about closing everything down by herself.

Chan relaxed a little, hearing her calm humming as she closed down the register and counted out the money in the back of the store. After the money was counted and locked in the safe, she just had to make one last pass through of the store to make sure no one had left something behind or left a mess and then she could head home. Over the radio, Changbin and Jeongin started joking around, getting playful after a tense day. Everyone was relaxing, at least until a loud crack broke over the mic followed by her surprised squeal. The jokes stopped and everyone froze.

“I know you all are out there,” the loner’s self-satisfied voice cut through the silence. “Don’t worry. I won’t make her suffer, but sadly, you will.”

Before the words were even finished coming out of the loner’s mouth, Chan was up, running as fast as he could to the store. He had to get in, he had to protect her. Jisung was on his heels as they ran across the street and into the strip mall parking lot.

“Why?” She asked, her voice slightly strained.

“Why should he have you when my mate was stolen from me?” He growled.

“What did they have to do with that?” She asked, keeping him busy for as long as possible. If he was explaining things, he wasn’t killing her.

“Nothing,” he admitted, dragging her towards the back door. “But neither did anyone in the last three territories I went through. This one was the first one that figured out it was me though.”

“What the hell is the matter with you,” she spat. “You think you can take something from others just because it happened to you?”

“Why should I be the only one who has to be alone?” He demanded, pushing her against the wall by her neck.

“The only one,” she scoffed, realizing this was probably not the ideal way to handle this, but she couldn’t help it. “You know most people don’t have some beacon to tell them who they are supposed to be with. Even those who do, people lose the people they love all the time. Car accidents, illness, crime, no one needs your help suffering, you selfish, shitty person.”

“What do you know,” he hissed back. 

“I know that your mate was lucky not to have had to spend a lifetime with someone who would do this,” she challenged. “No one deserves that.”

Shock and rage vied for dominance in his expression as he stared at her. He made a sound of pure rage and pulled back a hand to strike her. Never having been the sort to just lay down and give up, she kicked out catching the side of his knee. It didn’t really hurt him, but it was enough to unbalance him and make him catch himself, giving her the chance to break out of his grip. She knew she wouldn’t get far, he was faster and stronger, so she just tried to get as close as she could to where Chan and the others were. They would come, she had faith.

The loner came up, grabbing her from behind. “I’m glad, even if this is the last thing I do, I’m not just denying him his mate, but I’ll take his child, too.”

On the other side of the glass door, Chan felt half a second of numbing terror. He had to get inside, for both of them. Changbin picked up a part of a broken concrete curb stop and smashed it against the window, cracking the safety glass into a million little pieces, still stuck together by the coating, but weakened. He hit it again, opening a hole the size of a fist, and again, until the tear in the inner plastic layer got bigger. Impatiently, and perhaps a little recklessly, Chan covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and tore at the shattered glass. Finally the hole was big enough and he crawled through onto the display on the other side of the glass. He had to find her.

Their scuffling was audible and he found them quickly, rolling on the floor a few aisles into the store. She had curled into a ball, only moving to thwart his attempts to move her or drag her further to the back of the store. They all leapt on him, pulling him off her and dragging him away before they made sure he could never hurt another person. Chan stayed with her, trying to get her off the floor where she lay. He needed to hold her, make sure she was okay, make sure the loner hadn’t done anything to her that needed an ambulance.

She peeked out from under her arm, checking who it was before throwing herself into his arms. Relief coursed through her like she had never felt before. She breathed his name and threw her hands around his neck. Pulling her to his chest, he held her close for a moment before pulling her back to get a better look at her. Bruises were blooming on her neck and wrists, but that seemed to be the most serious injuries inflicted upon her.

“Baby girl,” he looked into her eyes, trying to find the words to express how sorry he was he hadn’t been there.

“I knew you would come,” she assured him.

“I will always come for you,” he promised, his hand dropping to her stomach. “For both of you. I will always protect my loves with everything I have.” Over the past few days he had been so preoccupied with their hunt and their planning that he hadn’t noticed the subtle change in her scent.

“How do you know,” she shook her head. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Nothing much, just a little change in your scent… hormones and all that,” He smiled and shrugged. It wasn’t really something a person could sense themselves. “Are you happy? I know this has been… too much.”

“I am,” she nodded. “I may not have chosen this way to meet you and fall into your world, but I don’t think I can imagine ending up anywhere else.”

“You’re mine,” he assured her. “And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do just to see you smile.”

Masterlist

[buildmeafairytale]

Female Reader x Male Werewolf

SFW, just a smallish drabble about a big bad werewolf who is scared of fireworks from an anon request. I’m still working on the other ones, but this one was small and didn’t take too long. Hope you enjoy :)

It was the fourth of July, and your family had dragged you to a group of cabins on a lake your grandparents had rented for the occasion. Your uncles had gone out on a platform in the middle of the lake and had been lighting off fireworks for a few hours now, to the delight of your baby cousins. You had become sick of the constant booming though, and while you were grateful your firework loving family were not doing them in the suburbs and disturbing dogs and other neighbors this year, you still doubted that the local wildlife wasn’t affected. 

You were nearing the small cabin that was yours for the duration of the weekend when you heard the rustling of leaves and breaking tree branches up ahead. Whatever was making all the noise sounded large, and your breath caught in your throat. You tried to get your key out as quietly as possible to avoid being noticed by what could very easily be a bear when another round of fireworks went off and illuminated the sky and woods around you. 

The resounding boom made way to a yelp, coming from where the leaves were rustling. Your key was in your hand, but the yelp sounded so afraid. What if there is an animal stuck in a trap, or injured? As much as you feel like an idiot for walking towards what seems to be a large animal alone in the woods, the guilt you would feel trying to ignore it would be much worse. Signing in resignation, you put your key back and take out your phone, turning on the flashlight.

“Hello? Okay look, if you’re a fuckin’ bear or some shit I’ll piss my pants,” you mumble as you walk into the woods. You make no effort to be sneaky; maybe if it hears you coming it won’t lash out.

BOOM 

Another firework goes off, and you hear a yelp again, much closer this time. The poor thing must be scared of the loud noises. It sounded like a dog yelping, and your nerves calmed a bit. Best case scenario it was a lost dog, worst case it was a wolf of some sort, but hopefully it would be too frightened to lash out until you left again. 

Apparently these two scenarios were not the only options because as you shine the light ahead, it catches on something huge. The shape is crouching and looks curled into itself.  Dark hairy arms are wrapped around legs that seem to have too many joints. Hands that look more like claws are protruding. The eyes are red and darting around, and the beast is drooling and breathing quickly. 

You take all of this in, and now you’re the one yelping. The beast yelps back at you, and scoots back, uncurling enough that you can see how massive they must be. 

“Okay, okay big guy, no need to be scared. Jesus Christ you’re huge. Am I gonna die? Holy shit.” You’re hyperventilating too now, afraid that this creature will attack. 

There is a momentary reprieve in fireworks, you’re uncles likely loading more onto the platform, and he seems to settle. He lets out a low whine and tilts his wolf-like head at you. 

“I-I’m sorry, I won’t hurt you, I just don’t like the noises,” he speaks, his deep gravelly voice shaking in fear. 

You stand up straighter and widen your eyes in surprise. This is the strangest thing to ever happen to you. 

BOOM

Thus starts another round of fireworks, and you think quick as the apparently sentient creature starts to panic again.

“Okay big guy, uh I guess you can come to my cabin? You really won’t eat me?” You ask him, fishing out your keys once again.

“Please, I won’t.” He is shaking his head, and it’s good enough for you. 

He stands up on wobbly legs and stumbles in the direction of your cabin. You let him lead the way, better in front of you then behind, you suppose. When you get close to the door, he gives you some space but it doesn’t help you feel more safe. He is likely at least a foot taller than you, and much more muscular. Your shaky hands unlock the door, and you both hurry inside. 

He takes a deep breath and sits down, making himself right at home. You weren’t about to argue with him about it though. 

“Fucking full moon just HAD to be on the Fourth of July this year, figures,” he grumbles, and if you weren’t so struck by him you would have thought he seemed a bit cute all pouty. 

“So you’re a werewolf then? Huh.” You nod in an effort to convince yourself this is normal, and offer your guest something to eat.  He enthusiastically accepts. Inside, the fireworks are still loud, but much more muted. You feel as though you should be asking a lot of questions, but you don’t know where to start. Luckily your guest speaks up a bit. 

“It’s not like I have to change on a full moon, I can change whenever, it’s just like this pull, ya know? Like an itch I can’t ignore and I just really want to get rid of it.” He nods along with what he says, his mannerisms reminding you of an enthusiastic puppy rather than a hulking werewolf. 

“Uh, okay?” you know you might be being rude, but you have no idea how to respond to his babbling, nowhere near being able to digest this information he is giving you. 

“Sorry - I’m talking so much, just a nervous thing.” he explains, suddenly looking bashful. “It’s just a lot tonight, the fireworks, the moon, and meeting my mate all in - oh fuck.” his mouth shuts for the first time in minutes, and his eyes widen. His mate? Is he talking about you? From his reaction you can only guess this was a slip up and he didn’t want you to know. 

“Look, I don’t wanna get into whatever just slipped out of your mouth just yet, and if you want we can pretend you didn’t say that. My name’s Eve, let's just start with that,” for some reason you can’t stand to see this big ball of puppy enthusiasm look so sad, so you give him and out he greedily takes. You ask him about himself, and with a grateful smile the babbling starts again. 

Once you find him to be okay, you give him some blankets and get him set up to sleep on the couch, while you head to the bedroom. Sleep is coming and going, and you’re jolted awake on more than one occasion by a loud firework. You continue to toss and turn, wondering what he meant by his mate. 

Sleep eventually takes you, and when you wake up the next morning to rays of sun on your face, you are at peace. Momentarily, at least, until you remember your guest. You shoot up and open the door, unsure of what you will find. You are met with the sight of a tall man, not as tall as the werewolf was but still too long for the couch he is sleeping on. Your eyes rake down his new form. He had messy brown hair, plump lips, and the body of an adonis. His face was peppered with stubble, and when you looked up his eyes were now open, and a dimpled grin was on his face. 

“G’morning, Eve,” his voice was sleepy and sweet, and you decided that if you ended up being this mate he mentioned, you wouldn't be disappointed.

[theodora3022]

Since you wrote about Yandere Villians with Y/N having a cute fairy quirk, how about a Yandere Hero having a Y/N with a monstrous quirk? SO...you pick the hero! Pick any male hero who you believe can handle Y/N. You do such amazing writing.

Y/N have to wear a face mask to hide the muzzle she wears going outside. Y/N have a quirk where she goes on a frenzy. Her eyes turn red, her veins pop out of her skin, she starts growling and trying to bite anyone near by. A monster who craves to rip flesh and bones. Y/N can turn on her quirk if she feels so much anger or fear. Y/N doesn't want to hurt anyone. She wants to live a quiet and alone life.

Wolf

Pairing: Best Jeanist x f!reader

Warnings: light yandere content, power abuse, threats

Thank you so much for the compliment, dear anon! I went soft with the monster idea that I just made the reader into a werewolf...hope it is still good! I was torn between Kiri and Best Jeanist! I really like Best Jeanist, I wish he got some more screen time ... Maybe I’ll do another one for the shark boy later.

Some groundwork:

When your quirk manifested at four years old, you were not surprised: you come from a family of Mutant quirks, after all.

Your quirk, wolf, means you can transform into a wolf anytime. The longevity is unknown to you since you barely use it. Even in your normal human form, you still have wolf ears and tail. You also have a sensitive nose, just like canines. You (hair color) fluffy fur is the same color as your hair. In acient times, before quirks become a thing, you would be seen as a werewolf.

While transformed, it is hard to supress the wolf’s wild instincts, the desire to hunt, to kill and consume raw meat (extremely difficult if you are hungry). You hate it, being like a beast instead of human. You had outbursts in the past that nearly killed one of your friends. There fore you stay in human at all times.

So most of the time, you just kept a muzzle near you, just in case you would lose yourself to the beast again.

You always feel this...strange sense of difference between you and normal people, so all of your friends have mutant quirks. You kept your social circle small, only letting those who are deemed trustworthy close to you (you told them to run if they see any signs of you getting wild)

You always had a soft spot for animals, therefore you decided to work in a pet shop. Dogs especially loves you, maybe because your canine quirk. Cats not so much, as they had left quite a few marks on you when you just started.

Now you are the assistant manager, the salary is decent, so you do not look for anything more. You never thought of having a romantic relationship because you do not trust yourself: you do not want to hurt the person you love. So even if you had crushes you just kept those feelings hidden until they went away.

Best Jeanist/Tsunagu Hakamada

Did you know his favorite animal is wolf? Therefore he is a furry

Being the No.4 pro hero means taking on lots of stress, so Tsunagu decides to have an animal friend at home who he can talk to freely, without worrying leaking information (I mean how can animals pass on information).

He went into the nearest pet shop, hoping to find a furry companion, preferably dogs.

What he did not expect is to find you there, with those literal puppy eyes and fluffy ears sticking out of your hair, tending to the puppies.

Tsunagu met people with similar quirks before, and he finds them aesthetically pleasing. But seeing you with a litter of adorable puppies, laughing and petting them? He felt like his heart just melted.

“Hello sir. How may I help you today?” You put on your usual smile. Tsunagu is wearing his civilian clothes, so he is just another customer to you. A fashionable one, though. You took notice at his stylish blonde hair.

Tsunagu would ask you about all the options for adopting a puppy. However he is only half-listening: he is drawn to how your ears twitch towards any abnormal sounds...

“Oh, my ears? Sorry if they are distracting. It’s part of my quirk.”

Would get you to talk to him as much as possible, with lots of polite questions.

When you bid him good day as he walks out the door, holding a poodle puppy with its supplies, Tsunagu is determined to see you more.

You are warm, like a ray of sunlight in this stormy world. Having worked as a pro hero for so long, dealing with many negative things so often, make him attracted to positive people. Those furry wolf ears and tail only added to his admiration.

Whenever Best Jeanist is not needed at his agency, Tsunagu Hakamada would find excuses to drop by your shop. Whether it be buying new accessories for his puppy or simply need some advice on her, he would find a way to talk to you, to hear your voice.

Until he become acquainted with you enough, Tsunagu finally asked for you name.

“I’m (y/n), and you, sir?” “Tsunagu. Tusnagu Hakamada.”

Never have once you associated your friendly customer with the No.4 Pro hero of Japan. Tsunagu is charismatic and talkative (at least to you), never putting on airs like Endeavor. Since he wears a mask, the public does not have a good idea what he looks like.

Then you noticed those small gestures, how Tsunagu’s hands would “unintentionally” brush against yours when you hand over his paid items, how his body would lean in slightly towards you whenever you are talking. Or how his lips would curl upwards whenever your tails wags with excitement. You also seen him way more frequently compare to average customers.

“He got a crush on you.” One of you co workers, teases after Tsunagu left the store.

“No he doesn’t.” You blush, although considering her hypothesis.

You seen some of his clothes in fashion magazines, one of them costs more then your monthly salary. Tsunagu is clearly a rich man, a fashion designer perhaps.

“Ms.(y/n), sorry if this sounds intrusive, but do you have a lover?”

That was...unexpected. “No, I do not. Why did you ask, Mr. Hakamata?”

That saves him trouble. Best Jeanist has got this flawless reputation for years, he prefers not to taint it. But if he must, Tsunagu would not hesitate. You belong with him, and him only. “Well, it’s possible such a beautiful lady like you already has a significant other.”

“Mr. Hakamata...I-” You were not sure to blush or to smile. Now it is clear to you: This blonde is interested in you. However you do not know what to respond.

“Call me Tsunagu, please.”

The next day you would find a lily bouquet wrapped in denim on the store counter?! Who use that as a bouquet wrapper? Flatter as you are, you still find this unsettling. He did not show up for the rest of the day, which gives you time to think.

Tsunagu is handsome and kind. He seems like a perfect choice, but you wonder what he would say if he saw you as a bloodthirsty wolf, feral and hungry for killing.

You decide to turn him down, not wanting to give him false hope.

Some minor villain is causing trouble in the streets when you were walking home. You were just going to sprint away at first, but in the corner of your eye you saw a mother with her toddler daughter being corner by the villain. The way the mother tries to protect her child triggered something in you. You have to do something!

“Grr!!!” Suddenly a piece of flesh is ripped off the villain’s leg. The villain screams in pain, but you dodged every last one of his attacks while leaving deep bite marks on him. Soon the sidewalk is stained crimson with blood. You know the two had already gotten away, you should stop now. But the wolf instincts got the better of you. You crave blood, lots of it. The growing pool under you is not enough.

You heard police sirens, someone yelling for you to stop, but the wolf is not willing to. It seems it would not be satiated unless this villain dies a brutal death.

Streams of fibers wrapped around you, restraining you until you cannot move anymore.

When you regained consciousness, you were in a clean jail cell, still in your wolf form. You assumed that you are being confined in a hero agency since you just lost control.

The door cracked. It is Tsunagu! What is he doing here? And why is he wearing a jean mask?

Then you saw the rest of his outfit. Demin jeans suit from head to toe, the...the No.4?

He is Best Jeanist? What is happening now?

Tsunagu wanted to take things slow, he wanted to date you normally, letting you know everything about him, but this seems like too good of an oppertunity to pass up.

“(y/n), can you understand me?” He crouches down with a concerned look on his face.

You nod. You are not able to speak human languages while in wolf form, another draw back.

“Do your clothes come back when you transform? Or do you need some clothes?”

You left your clothes behind a dumpster before, so you just shook your head. If you were to transform now, it could be quite embarrassing.

Handing you a denim dress, Best Jeanist leaves to give you some privacy to change.

After you are dressed and back in human form, he took you to his office.

“I know you must have lots of question right now, but please allow me to explain somethings first.”

“The villain is in bad shape. You did quite a bit damage on him. His blood loss is immense; he is still in the ICU as we speak.”

Why don’t you just let him die, he’s a threat to society anyway. You ask yourself, silently.

“However, while he is a villain, you still hurt him too much. And it’s not even self-defence. You are not a hero, it’s illegal.”

You tense up. Would you face charges for this? For trying to protect other people.

“Would I go to Tartarus? For how long?”

“Oh, come now. As long as I have any say , I won’t allow that to happen.” Your eyes lit up, wanting to thank him.

“You can be my wife instead. Stay with me, and no charges would be pressed.”

What?

You know he likes you, but just asking to become his wife like that? Without dating first.

“Tsunagu, I... you...this...” He finds your stutters cute, as he traces his fingers along the edge of your wolf ears. Best Jeanist had been wanting to do that for so long, he worked so hard to restrain himself.

“Your choice. Either face court charges, or you can be with me, all is well.”

Tsunagu Hakamada is confident about his chances. An innocent, adorable civilian like you will not last long even in the most outer cells of Tartarus.

Tears slides down your chin as you give a reclutant reply. “I’ll...be with you.”

Who could have thought Tsunagu would do such a thing? He is always so nice and friendly. But now here he is, threatening you with this crime?

“Perfect.” Snapping a denim collar around your neck, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him. “I can’t wait to get you home; you would be such a lovely little wolf. My little wolf.”

“Should you ever try to leave me, I’m sure Tartarus is always avaliable.”

[dirt-cup-draco]

Severus Snape x Reader- Starstruck (2/2)

Part 1 found here---> Ta Da

Previously:

Wand still posed against your neck he dragged you back to the abandoned house. Only when you were safe inside, having cast a protective charm on the place, did he release you. Spinning on your heel you brought your palm up to his cheek swiftly, the sound of you smacking him ringing out against the silent night. “That was for acting like a pig,” You sniffled, pride wounded.

 And then, you grabbed the front of his robes, lips slanting against his, all teeth and tongue. His hands stalled just above your hips, unsure of what to do next. “And that, was for saving my life,” You panted. 

Too concerned with your safe arrival it went unnoticed by all in the order, including yourself, that for the first time since he was a schoolboy, Severus Snape was a little bit flustered, and a whole lot starstruck. 

You wished that you could say the days after your rescue had been peaceful and filled with bliss. In reality, you found yourself overwhelmed during the day and terrified during the night. Molly was darling and you appreciated her to no end, but you were growing weary of the questions and constant attention. When she realized you weren’t fond of answering her prodding inquiries, she pretended as if nothing was wrong. You were glad for it but you caught her long glances and pitying stares. 

Sirius tried to be helpful too, having more insight on what you might’ve been through than Molly, but his attempts also fell flat. His best idea was to coax you to eat, encourage you to put the weight that you had lost from being withheld from food and water for all the time that you had been tortured and on the run. You wanted it to help but you had no appetite, but the demons in the back of your mind made your stomach churn with memories you wanted to forget. 

It all came to a head one night when Arthur had joined you all for dinner. He was a bit too boisterous, a bit too excited. He was a fun and loving man and you never wanted him to change, yet the way he slammed his silverware down on the table as he told another joke you weren’t quite listening to startled you and his long and deep laughs unsettled you, reminding you of the taunting you had endured. 

Your hands began to shake and you felt your heart begin to pound relentlessly. You stood, hands quivering and face pale as you looked apologetically to the friends in front of you. “Excuse me,” You squeaked, leaving no other explanation as you ran upstairs, finding the room that Sirius was allowing you to stay in “for as long as you needed”  he had said. 

Severus watched with what appeared to be boredom but deep beneath the surface he felt some...concern. Ever since you were a first year in Hogwarts, Severus had been able to see a fire within you, it seemed as if current events had been steadily stomping that fire out. It caused an ache in his chest where he hadn’t thought one possible. 

“Oh dear,” Molly sighed beside him, worrying at her apron as she began to gather dishes. “The poor dear,” 

“No use in pitying the woman,” Severus vocalized. 

Molly ground her teeth together, rounded cheeks flushing red. “She’s been through-” 

“I didn’t say she hasn’t been through difficult and unspeakable things,” Severus remarked, taking no time to apologize for his interruption of Molly’s oncoming scolding. “But pitying her will not take that away. Y/N needs space,” 

“She needs care!” Sirius interjected. “Something I don’t think you’d know about,” 

Severus bristled, his steely gaze locked on his old tormentor. “I shall be turning in for the night. The meal was filling as always Molly,” He chose his words carefully, knowing the balance in grimmauld place was an unstable one. The rest of the order let him retreat in silence, keeping their mouths closed, lips pressed together in thin lines. 

Severus took the room across from yours, lingering in the hall for just a moment. He heard nothing and assumed you must have fallen asleep despite the horrors that were clearly plaguing you. You had opened his eyes to something new that he had never considered before: opening his heart again. Your kiss had left him rattled to say the least. 

He told himself it was simply out of relief and appreciation but you always had a kind word for him, a sympathetic smile, when everyone else in the room only had cold shoulders and clipped sentences. You were objectively, a pretty woman. He could appreciate the shape of your body, the lilt of your voice, the edge to your wit. You had intelligence and nerve but you didn’t use it to ground others beneath your feet. Your kindness was given freely. 

Which is why it had begun to pain him, pondering of the weight of your torture and how it must be eating away at you. He would take your struggles and burdens onto his own shoulders if he could and that is how Severus knew you had captured his heart. It had been decades since he had cared for anyone other than himself. 

Being unable to rest, Severus took out a book and settled against his headboard for the night, his readers slipping over his nose as his head started to nod some time after ending the seventh chapter. The words blurred on the page but suddenly snapped back into focus as he heard a scream that melted into a whimper and ended with a cry. He was at full attention now as your senseless pleas and screams rang from your room. 

Had you begged and cried in a similar way when you had been tortured? Severus couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Climbing from his bed he padded across the room, rough wood floors creaking beneath his feet. It seemed your cries didn’t only wake him, for when he opened his bedroom door he found Tonks and Remus peering out of their bedroom with bleary and sleep glazed eyes.

“Should we wake her?” Tonks asked, looking between Severus and her husband, a yawn tugging itself from her lungs. Remus gave Severus a long look as he closed his bedroom door behind him, taking a step forward to your room. 

“I can help her,” He explained as the werewolf continued to eye him wearily. 

“I thought she needed space,” Remus had an argument resting heavily on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, your voice rang out clearly, “S-severus please, help me, I’m so scared.... so scared.... They’re coming!” It seemed you were still dreaming but you had spoken. It seemed you wanted Severus. 

Taking small pride in this, Severus tried to give Remus a reassuring look that appeared more like a sneer. The couple retreated back to their room as you continued to cry out into the night. Opening your door slowly, Severus surveyed the room, turning on a small lamp that stood in the far corner of the dusty bedroom. It cast a warm glow over the room that hopefully wouldn’t bee to strenuous on your eyes. 

You tossed and turned in your covers, the sheets spinning themselves around your legs and your pillows having fallen to the floor. You whimpered, pressing your face into your mattress as your imagination brought up something despicable to you. Your cheeks were stained with the clear tracks of your tears and Severus prodded himself to approach you. 

“Y/N,” He spoke clearly and sternly but it seemed you couldn’t hear him. “Y/N, you are only dreaming,” He tried again, hand resting gently on your shoulder as he shook you awake, the sudden and foreign rocking waking you in a panic as you shot up. Severus stepped back quickly and narrowly avoided your forehead colliding with his. 

Your breaths were coming out sharp and quick and your head dashed from side to side rapidly, taking in your surroundings. You relaxed some when you realized you were in grimmauld place, safe from any death eaters that may want to harm you. “Oh god,” You cried out, dropping your head into your hands before your head popped up a second later, eyes finding Severus’ as if you were surprised to see him there. “Please tell me you were the only one I woke,” 

“Then I would be lying to you,” Severus answered honestly and you grimaced, guilt filtering through you. “They don’t mind, it’s understandable that you haven’t been sleeping well,” 

“And you? Do you mind?” You had to asked, wiping at the remnants of your tears that had crept past your eyes while you slept. 

“If I was asleep when the commotion began, it might have caused some upset,” 

“Why weren’t you asleep?” 

“Why did you call out for me?” Severus asked instead, eyebrow raised and lips pursed in curiosity. Heat crept up your neck in an obvious blush and Severus liked the rosy color on you. 

“I don’t remember,” You lied. You were fixed with a pointed stare and your defense crumbled. “Because you saved me, I feel better around you. You arrived in my time of need, when you’re around it feels like no one can hurt me,” 

Your honesty, however slow coming, was without filter and Severus could feel his stomach flip in a pleasant way. You felt safe with him. 

Sitting at the end of your bed, Severus set a steady hand on your knee and you seemed to appreciate the gesture, a small smile working it’s way on your lips. “Would you-” He began but clammed up as you continued to look at him. Shaking his head, he decided to abandon his proposition. 

“Would I?” You prompted, voice still shaking from your wicked nightmares but you were starting to tease again and Severus took that as a positive sign. 

“Would you- That is to say-” Severus stumbled, cheeks now rosier than yours. 

“Yes I would like you stay with me,” You finished for him, hand reaching for his. 

“Then I will stay,” 

You held tight when he intertwined your fingers with yours as he maneuvered your bed, laying on his side and holding his arm out straight in front of him as you pressed your back against his chest that was rising and falling with slightly quickened breaths. 

You kept his hand in yours and pulled his arm to rest across your waist and wrap around you. Severus relaxed and tugged you tighter against him, legs tangling with yours. “Is this only because I was the one to your rescue? If it had been someone else-” 

“I didn’t want it to be anyone else,” You said simply, not leaving room for argument and too exhausted to say more. 

It was all Severus needed to know as he kissed the back of your neck in a shy show of affection, the both of you drifting off into a long and peaceful rest. You dreamed of a hooked nose and inky hair while he dreamed of floral shampoo and a kind smile. 

It went unsaid even as Severus crawled into your bed the next night, and the night after that- and many more nights to come- but you were both a little bit starstruck and certainly falling in love. 

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary Those who might like part 2: @paigelin @starofthedawn @giveusbackourbucky @purpledragonturtles

[thegrapeandthefig]

The Werewolves of Arcadia

This is my contribution to @adri-le-chat 's Halloween "Haunting Pagan Lore" event. As you can see from the title, I've chosen a classic of horror and folklore tales for which many have forgotten the ancient origins. This will be long, so let's get into it.

The myth of King Lycaon While the earliest known example of man-to-wolf shifting dates back to the Epic of Gilgamesh (c. 2100 BC), the Greek case is considered the second oldest, and the one scholars consider as the root of werewolf belief in Europe, as the myth got carried over to the Romans. However, one should note that lycanthropy and human-to-animal transformation beliefs also arose independently in other cultures around the world.

In Greece, the first werewolf is King Lycaon of Arcadia. The story is said to go this way, though with several variants: King Lycaon ruled over the region of Arcadia, Pan's homeland. A wild, lush and mountainous region of Greece. Lycaon had several children, mainly Kallisto, Keteus and Nyktimos. After seducing Kallisto, Zeus is invited to a feast by Lycaon. The issue is, Lycaon serves him human flesh:

"After Zeus had seduced Kallisto, Lykaon, pretending not to know of the matter, entertained Zeus, as Hesiod says, and set before him on the table the babe which he had cut up.”

- Hesiod, Astronomica Fragment 3 (from Comm. Supplem. on Aratus)

"Two lesser known Athenian playwrights, Xenokles the Elder and Astydamas the Younger, produced plays entitled Lykaon. Presumably these told the story of the sacrifice of the child."

- Xenocles the Elder & Astydamas the Younger, Lycaon (lost plays) (c. 5th to 4th BC.)

The general idea is that Zeus is deeply offended by the act and turns King Lycaon into a wolf. However, there are many versions to the myth. Pausanias, in the 2nd century AD, explains it this way:

" Lykaon brought a human baby to the altar of Zeus Lykaios, and sacrificed it, pouring out its blood upon the altar, and according to the legend immediately after the sacrifice he was changed from a man to a wolf (lykos) . . . All through the ages, many events that have occurred in the past, and even some that occur to-day, have been generally discredited because of the lies built up on a foundation of fact. It is said, for instance, that ever since the time of Lykaon a man has changed into a wolf at the sacrifice to Zeus Lykaios, but that the change is not for life; if, when he is a wolf, he abstains from human flesh, after nine years he becomes a man again, but if he tastes human flesh he remains a beast for ever."

- Pausanias, Description of Greece 8. 2. 1 - 6

Ovid, when rewritting the myth in the 1st century AD, decided to turn the narrative to Lycaon doubting the divinity of Zeus when the god visited Arcadia. In order to test Zeus’s divinity, Lycaon attempts to feed him cooked human flesh and have him assassinated in the night. When Zeus realizes what Lycaon is doing, Lycaon tries to flee in fear. But as he runs into the fields of Arcadia, Lycaon is transformed into a wolf.

The cult of Zeus Lykaios

The transformation of King Lycaon is a punishment for human sacrifice and cannibalism, sometimes permanent or, as we saw above, for a certain amount of time under the condition of not eating human flesh.

The myth is said to have inspired the cult of Zeus Lykaios in Arcadia (or perhaps the opposite), for which, human sacrifices have been rumored to occur. The sanctuary of Zeus Lykaios was on one of the three crests of Mt. Lykaion, where the festival of the Lykaia was celebrated approximately once every four years. We owe the earliest reference to human sacrifices on this mountain to Plato:

"What then is the beginning of the transformation from protector to tyrant? Is it not clearly when the protector begins to do the same as the man in the story which is told concerning the sanctuary of Zeus Lykaios in Arcadia?’ ‘What story?’ he said. ‘How the man who has tasted of the piece of human entrails—one of these having been cut up along with the entrails of the other victims—it is necessary for this man to be turned into a wolf. Or haven’t you heard the story?’ ‘I have." -Plato, Republic 8, 565D–E

Pausanias, who visited the location in the 2nd century AD, also mentions the story:

“For they say that after Lycaon someone would always be turned from a man into a wolf at the sacrifice of Zeus Lykaios, but that he would not become a wolf for all his life. Rather, if while he was a wolf he refrained from human flesh, they say that afterwards in the tenth year he turned back from a wolf into a man. But if he had tasted human flesh he remained a beast forever.” 

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 8.2.6

Later, he goes on to mention the sacrifices are still performed on the moutain, subtly implying that he thinks those are human sacrifices:

"they sacrifice in secret; I did not wish to inquire further into the details of the sacrifice: let it be as it has been from the beginning”

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 8.38.7

Both Plato and Pausanias are skeptics on the existence of the transformation from man to wolf. Pausanias, especially, makes it very clear when giving account of the story of Damarchus:

"But concerning the boxer named Damarchus, who was by birth an Arcadian of Parrhasia, except for his victory at Olympia I do not believe the other things said by pretentious men, namely that he was changed from a man to a wolf at the sacrifice of Zeus Lykaios and that ten years later he again became a man. Nor did it seem to me that this was said about him by the Arcadians, for in this case it would also be said in the inscription at Olympia, which runs as follows: Damarchus son of Dinyttas set up this statue, a Parrhasian by birth from Arcadia.”

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 6.8.2

Archeaological search has not confirmed human sacrifices to be taking place, despite the legends. The numerous bones found were mostly ones from small animals, with the occasional bigger cattle or pig. Thus there are strong doubts on the reality of infant sacrifices. If they did exist, the absence of remains would indicate either that the victims were so young their remains didn't survive time, or that the remains were removed for a separate burial. 

Other instances of werewolf tales

It is very clear now that the region of Arcadia is linked for the Ancients to the trope of man to wolf transformation, and probably taking root in both tale and cult. However, this while this is the most documented story, there are other mentions of wolf-shifting in ancient literature. 

Herodotus, for instance, tells us this when describing the Neuri: 

"It may be that these people are wizards; for the Scythians, and the Greeks settled in Scythia, say that once a year every one of the Neuri becomes a wolf for a few days and changes back again to his former shape. Those who tell this tale do not convince me; but they tell it nonetheless, and swear to its truth." - Herodotus, Histories, IV.105

Much later, in the late first century AD, Petronius includes a werewolf story in his Satyricon, which goes as follows: 

"I seized my opportunity, and persuaded a guest in our house to come with me as far as the fifth milestone. He was a soldier, and as brave as Hell. So we trotted off about cockcrow; the moon shone like high noon. We got among the tombstones: my man went aside to look at the epitaphs, I sat down with my heart full of song and began to count the graves. Then when I looked round at my friend, he stripped himself and put all his clothes by the roadside. My heart was in my mouth, but I stood like a dead man. He made a ring of water round his clothes and suddenly turned into a wolf. Please do not think I am joking; I would not lie about this for any fortune in the world. But as I was saying, after he had turned into a wolf, he began to howl, and ran off into the woods. At first I hardly knew where I was, then I went up to take his clothes; but they had all turned into stone. No one could be nearer dead with terror than I was. But I drew my sword and went slaying shadows all the way till I came to my love's house. I went in like a corpse, and nearly gave up the ghost, the sweat ran down my legs, my eyes were dull, I could hardly be revived. My dear Melissa was surprised at my being out so late, and said, 'If you had come earlier you might at least have helped us; a wolf got into the house and worried all our sheep, and let their blood like a butcher. But he did not make fools of us, even though he got off; for our slave made a hole in his neck with a spear.' When I heard this, I could not keep my eyes shut any longer, but at break of day I rushed back to my master Gaius's house like a defrauded publican, and when I came to the place where the clothes were turned into stone, I found nothing but a pool of blood. But when I reached home, my soldier was lying in bed like an ox, with a doctor looking after his neck. I realized that he was a werewolf, and I never could sit down to a meal with him afterwards, not if you had killed me first. Other people may think what they like about this; but may all your guardian angels [genius] punish me if I am lying.”

-Petronius, Satyricon, 62 (tr. Michael Heseltine)

Final words

Despite being present in literature, there seems to be a common disbelief amongst the Ancients when it comes to the veracity of werewolves, but it is also possible that the explicit disbelief shown by the authors cited there is meant to differiate them with the popular folk beliefs of their time. With this, I wish you all a Spooky Halloween. 

[0vorenation0]

The Island (series #4)

As I stepped outside and walked done the path. I saw the old foundations, where houses used to sit. With further exploration, I walked up to the old graveyard. It’s was destroyed by years of abuse from the elements. As I continued one the oddly familiar place, I came across a old tombstone. I read the name and it was of my grandmother. The name was the same, my grandfather used to tell me about her. It said she was a supreme fighter and warrior but was striked down by a rival clan.

That’s when I heard a branch break in the distance, I stood up and looked around. Then another break of a branch and another. I drew out my sword and waited. I listened and watched, then I saw a dark shadow walk into the light. “ Damn Saladin haha, you nearly got yourself killed. What you doing out hear, btw have you seen my guards?” I ask just know noticing there gone. “Cal I see you found the graves, and no I haven’t seen them. Listen there’s something I need to tell you, but I know your gonna freak out.” Saladin says “what are you talking about, did the werewolf escape?” I ask nervously. He looks as me and says” no he didn’t but I’m much older then I let on Cal, when I first met you I wasn’t gonna take you to the island. However when I heard your name and who u were I knew then and there your useful. I’m all about preserving ancient history and knowledge. I know your a powerful pred back at your kingdom, but hear you have no idea. Shortly after your tribe left the werewolf’s at the least the pack of ancient alpha originals were hunted down. All except for one, everyone thinks there extinct. However the last one was about to be killed when he attacked me. He bit me and his genes fused with mine, I became the first human pred werewolf hybrid. Usually not possible, but since I was a pred, I could turn. I’m gonna show you how powerful I am Cal haha. This is true power.!!!”

I stood there shocked and terrified, Saladins eyes turned yellow. He began to change and morph, he started getting massive and hair popped out everywhere. He nose grew long and his teeth became sharp and long. After that I drew my sword and went to stabb him. His hands grew claws and as I came in with my sword he swatted me up and I flew back into a tree. My sword flew and stuck in the ground and I passed out for a few seconds. When I woke up I looked around and there was nothing. I slowly got up and looked around, my arm felt like it was dislocated. I could defend myself I was helpless as I look around. Then a drop of liquid fell in my hair and I realized it wasn’t water but spit. I slowly lift my head up and there he was standing in the tree teeth put snarling at me. I panicked and ran, I picked up my sword and didn’t make it far before I fell. He jumped down and I could hear him behind me, I went to swing but he blocked my arm and it went flying away.

He got in my face and sniffed me, and then licked my face chin to hair. His breath was so hot and felt like a gush of wind. I could see his maw and I waited for the worst. His mouth was huge and could easily swallow my head. I could practically see down his throat. The beads drops of spit were scary, I felt truly helpless as he poked his maw wide and went to swallow my head but stoped as my head was in his throat. It was so slimy and gross, smelled like death, and I could feel his muscles squeezing me. I felt him pull away and my head left his mouth covered in slime and spit. I was confused, he could have easily swallowed me in one gulp. I was nothing to him but a bug that’s wouldn’t make a dent in his gut. That’s when I saw it though, it was massive and mesmerizing. His cock was huge, and that’s when I realized why he didn’t swallow me. I cleared the slime out of my eyes and felt him grab my legs. He striped me done to nothing but my underwear, and places my feet in his maw. He licked all around them and the. Finally let them go fully covered in his salvia. He grabbed the massive cock and began rubbing it, making it hard once again. It grew to and I possible 15 to 20 inches. My face was turned in horror as he grabbed my feet and slid my feet into his cock slit.

I tried to kick but his strength was ungodly, I was helpless, my arm was dislocated. So I could fight back. I could only sit and watch as his massive cock swallowed me. I used my on good arm to grab a stick. With a quick move I jerked my arm and tried to stab him but he caught my arm. He gripped it harder until I dropped the stick and he let arm go. I grabbed my thighs and pulled me more and more into his cock. I squirmed my feet and could feel the powerful muscled cock walls squeeze and pulse. With every pulse of his cock he pulled me further and deeper. His cock just didn't end, I could tell he was getting pleasure from swallowing with his member. I grabbed dirt and grass, as his cock lifted me off the ground. Gravity kicked in and I was slowly being pulled in faster, that's when I began to beg him. However nothing worked, his pred instincts kicked in and I was helpless. As the king of VoreNation, I was not about to die a bitch. So I made my peace and closed my eyes, an honorable fight I had put up. Nothing last forever, my cock and ass entered passed his cock slit. The slime made me hard and as I was pulled down. I felt myself cum, the made me descend faster and my cum dried down into his own massive balls. My feet finally enter the massive chamber that was his balls and I could feel the puddle of cum I would be descending into.

He placed his massive hand on my head and pushed me down. My time and reign had come, as I was up to my neck in his fleshy giant cock. He pushed the rest in and I was sent slowly in the dark hole that was his cock. I looked up and the light faded fast until it was nothing but dark. I tied to move around but his walls just squeezed and held me. I could feel his massive hand help push me down his urethra. Although he might have been rubbing his cock as the pleasure of swallowing his prey felt good. I began to curl into a ball and then my head finally enter his balls. His cock began to soften, and once I was fully in his balls the weight dropped them down. Saladin began to walk away and entered the lab. He sat down and rubbed his balls, this began the process of churning, I could feel the cum rising. Soon I would be nothing but a werewolf cum.

I had always wondered what it felt in to be churn to cum. Surprisingly it was quite peaceful. There was no pain, I just dissolved into thick white slimy cum. Saladin still in wolf for began rubbing his balls further this made his cock hard again. Once fully hard he began to jerk off, I could feel it hi shi balls as they were jumping and shaking all around. As he jerked out my feet and hands dissolved away, then I arms and legs. The cum balls, filled with cum and soon they shrunk and shriveled up and squeezed me tight. The rest of my body was dissolved and I passed out. Outside the balls, he knew it was close and cries out a load Awhooooo and ropes of cum went flying all over the room. A solid kitty pools worth of cum spewed out and covered the room. After he cummed his balls well saggy and cock went flaccid. He stood up and began to transform back into a human. While he transformed I regained consciousness and the puddle of cum began to reform. It went up in the shape of a human and I turned around at Saladin. He was back as a human, I was naked covered in werewolf cum. I coughed up a bunch of cum and it was all I could taste. It tastes nothing like human cum it was more gamey.

Sometime after gathering what just happened...

”what the FUCK!!! You dick, you cock vored me. I could have died if I didn't drink that serum. Why did you do that, you also we're gonna eat me? What did I not taste good enough so you shoved me up your massive cock?” I said as I walked over to him and threw him against the wall with the strength I didn't normally have. ”it worked, look how powerful you are. I'm a genius, after I got turned I realized I had power. Not just any power true power, something I call true vore. The original type of vore, it gives me complete control over it. Don’t you see I gave you the power too, well not yet. It has take. Me years to figure out of to use the skill properly. First it was powerful strength, then the ability to absorb the engage of prey and distribute it anywhere I want. Cock, muscles, ass, anything why do you think my cock is so big. I can teach you this, your actually the last one who can have this ability. Only ones with what you call the royal gene, but it’s more of an ancient blood line that only true pure bread humans can have. No body on the island but me and you have this.” He told me saying this all while I had him against the wall.

This made me think, he knew everything was going to happen. He planned it, the serum, voring me. He’s right, I do feel different the power I have. As a pred and the last one with the unique bloodline. I must learn this, but no one can know. It would be dangerous to put out knowledge like this. “ how do I learn this? What do I have to do?” I say, he looks at me and smiles, “ well the only way I’ve found is that I have to vore you multiple times. With every Vore you unlock more and more knowledge u til you have learned everything I have.” “ okay I want to learn, teach me. Not know tho I have a kingdom to run, I can’t be away for this long or they will notice. I’ll return soon and we can begin”

With that I returned over the next serveal months, each time I wa scored I u locked more and more hidden talents to Vore. The second session, I unlocked the absorb and redistribute Vore ability. I used it to make myself the ultimate pred. The third allowed me to merge with others, instead of forcing them in a hole. I could simply aboard them through my body. After the finale session it was time to leave the island once again. “Saladin, thank you for teaching me the ways of True Vore. My time here is over but if your ever in VoreNation please come by. We will terrorize the citizens hahaha. Goodbye my friend” I said as i walk away he stops me and places a necklace in my hand. “ Cal I almost forgot to give this to you, it’s a necklace made from the original alpha werewolf’s tooth. I want you to have it, keep it safe. Goodbye” I put the necklace on and boarded my boat and we set sail for VoreNation. I didn’t know but I would meet Saladin again one day. I arrive back home and is greater by Corey. “Hey Corey it’s about time I come see those changes you made to the city. Shall we!!”

(haha yes I know the pics are furry, but I thought it looked better than a regular werewolf. Hope y'all enjoyed it, more to come!!!!!)

[ranposlittle]

I wanted to ask if you could do some headcanons of Atsushi with a S/O who shares his animal ability, like a wolf instead of tiger :3 some fluff or not it good! Been wanted to ask a while! Your writing it amazing! 😌

Genre: SFW

Tags: Headcanons, Supernatural ability

[A/N: Hey there, anon~ 💗 Here's your request! This is such a fun idea to write so thank you for requesting! Thank you for your kind words about my works as well hehe~ I hope you'll like this!]

Atsushi Nakajima

The room is dead silent and every pair of eyes are on you.

The event also tooked you by surprise that it didn't immediately dawned on you the reason as to why everyone was so interested in you when the Port Mafia's assassination squad is right in front of them, armed to the teeth.

"You're... a werewolf?" Atsushi asked, voice trembling with hint of disbelief and quite possibly, also with fear.

Now, you realize.

An armed man came to attack Atsushi while his back was turned and you had to make a quick decision. You just intended to push the man back to buy some time for Atsushi but perhaps because of the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you accidentally sent the guy flying out of the office window.

You looked down on your arms and sure enough, they are now covered in fur, as well as your legs and foot.

"Oh no, not again." you rolled your eyes and slumped in defeat.

"Wait, you knew you have an ability? And you didn't even tell me?" Atsushi blurted out and he got that I'm-Not-Mad-Just-Disappointed look.

At this point, everybody went back to their business and the rest of the fight fell on the back of both of yours and Atsushi's mind.

"I was going to, but," you trailed off, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "I was scared. I mean, just look at me."

Compared to Atsushi's ability, your transformation affects your whole body and greatly distorts your humanly features. Your soft lips are replaced with a protruding muzzle, your face gets covered in coarse dark fuzz and your clothes ripped as it failed to accommodate the sudden change in the shape of your form.

Even you scare yourself whenever this happens to you. You're still confused by this whole thing and it doesn't help that you have no control over your transformation.

"I feel like a monster," you mumbled. Tears began to strain on your eyes and you clenched your jaw in an attempt to hinder their fall.

Atsushi's demeanor soften. He acted out and spoke out of shock, but hearing you say that, made him recall to the time where he was just as scared of himself like you are now.

He felt a crash of guilt washed over his chest for a while and carefully approached you.

He reached out and touched what he guessed as your cheek and caressed your skin underneath all the fur. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to pick the right words to say.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said. His eyes are now soft and an apologetic smile drawn on his face. "I just got surprised. You know that out of anyone in the world, I would understand you."

"I can help you deal with this," Atsushi continued. "You're not alone and you won't feel like that anymore. If you still think you're a monster, then, I'll be a monster with you."

You leaned in on Atsushi's hand on your cheek, the corners of your lips pulling up into a smile. As you settle down in a much calmer state, a tingling feeling ran all over on your body.

Your eyes widen on the familiar feeling. Knowing very well what's about to happen, you grab Atsushi and pulled him towards you.

Once again, all pair of eyes are focused on the both of you as the thump of your fall echoed in the room and they witnessed a rather lascivious scene: Atsushi lying on top of your now fully naked body.

Kunikida hastily grabbed Dazai's coat and threw it on you and Atsushi's piled up bodies. "This is an office! Abide by the dress code, punks!"

[oywiththefanfics]

The Merriest of Winchesters

** Rating - PG-13 Characters- Dean and Sam Winchester, You, Castiel

Let me know if you guys would want a part two! 

Dean stretched after climbing out of his Impala. His back, his knees, everything ached as if he hadn’t moved in days. He was looking forward to getting inside of Bobby’s old house and plopping himself down on a comfy bed. 

He glanced up at the house, as he always did before entering. It felt strange to be here when Bobby wasn’t. He and his brother, Sam, made a pact to never meet here again after they burned Bobby’s body. But Sam was insistent that they return for Christmas every year.

“Is it my turn to put up the tree this year?” Sam asked, unfolding himself from the front seat and grabbing his bag out of the back. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “dunno.” before he walked up to the door and unlocked it with the key. 

Inside smelled... clean. It was as if it hadn’t been sitting empty for the last couple of months. Dean paused, trying to remember the last time that he or Sam had stopped by to gather supplies--or sleep. It had to have been back in August, back when he had that Washington demon case. 

Dean raised his hand to motion to his brother, his other hand reaching for his gun that he kept in his belt. Something wasn’t right. 

Sam stopped and dropped his bag, reaching for his own gun as Dean motioned for him to run around back and check out the place. Dean would take on the inside, the closed off spaces, so Sam would have a chance to get away if possible. 

Last time he set food inside, the place smelled of rain and mud, seeing as they almost never mopped the floors before leaving. The smell of roses and lavender filled his nose the further into the house he stepped. 

The lamp that sat on Bobby’s desk was on, shining bright as if somebody placed a new bulb in it recently. Something really wasn’t right. Somebody broke into this house, somebody was cleaning. Demons wouldn’t clean. Neither would a vampire or a werewolf--unless they were claiming the house for themselves... 

Dean kept his eyes wide as he slowly scouted the place, looking in every room downstairs before heading up, careful to miss that noisy stair close to the top. 

“Hello?” Dean called out, knowing that he was wasting time trying to be quiet. Whoever was in this house, it was most likely human. Someone wanting to squat for a little while, someone needing a place while the snow outside slowed down. 

No answer.

He kicked open the door to the old room that he and Sam shared once. Aiming his gun inside, he froze when his eyes landed on a small figure standing there, holding up a gun of her own, a messy bun on top of her head, and in an oversized Christmas sweater. 

“Whoa!” Dean didn’t know if he should drop his gun and hold up his hands or keep it aimed at her. She was so small, so fragile looking, he was afraid of hurting her. “Who are you??”

“Who are you?” She narrowed her eyes at him, her glasses sitting at the edge of her nose as if she had just jumped up and didn’t have enough time to push them back up. 

“I asked you first.” Dean grumbled. “Did you know Bobby?”

“I knew him.” She said confidently, holding her chin up high. “He took me in after my parents died.” 

Feeling a little better, Dean lowered his gun but still kept his grip on it. “Dean Winchester. Are you a hunter?” 

“Winchester...” Her eyes widened as if she knew that name. The handgun she was holding fell at her side, though she kept her finger on the trigger as well. Son of a bitch. You sure do get around.” 

He tilted his head to the side, unsure of what she meant by that comment.

“[Your name]. I only started hunting after the devil killed my parents.” She said, almost proudly. A little too proudly. 

It clicked after she said her name, though. He had heard of that name before. Lucifer had mentioned it, Bobby had mentioned it. It was common knowledge amongst hunters that the [your name]’s had once stood in the way of Lucifer and had died, though most hunters thought the child died as well. 

She smirked, knowing that Dean was standing there, trying to figure out the real story in his head. He was confused, he was wondering why Bobby never told him or Sam of the girl. 

“Yeah, that’s the reaction I get a lot.” She tossed her gun on the bed and glided over to the standing closet. She pulled a pair of leggings off a hanger. “I was supposed to die that night. He thought he killed me, too. Poor Luci was too cocky to check his own work and I made it out of there alive. Not without a few scars, though. Bobby found me, patched me up, explained to me what I had just been through, and I asked him to train me, I wanted to find and hunt the devil down.” 

Realizing he was still holding his gun, Dean quickly put it back in the holster and crossed his arms, watching the beautiful creature in front of him pull on the pair of leggings carefully, doing her best not to show off her goods in the process. He turned his head, letting her have some privacy. “And then we locked him in the cage.” Dean stated, wanting to know more of the story.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice carried from down the stairs. 

“Up here! It’s okay, Sam. Just a girl. Get your ass up here!” Dean called down.

She raised an eyebrow. “Both Winchester’s in one place? Last I heard, you two parted ways.”

“Yeah. well, things change.” Dean uncrossed his arms and made room for his brother, who appeared at his side, gun put away. He was panting, as if he ran miles. 

“Who...”

“We’ll catch you up over coffee. Who wants some?” She glided over to the door, motioning for the brothers to part.

++++++++++++++

Dean sipped on his black coffee, the warmth making his insides feel better after the scare from earlier. He was still concerned on why Bobby never told them about this girl, about how he adopted another child and trained her. Bobby didn’t like to train, he didn’t like kids. Then again, he did take in a young Sam and Dean.

She poured herself a second cup of coffee before sitting with her legs crossed on a foot stool by the fire that Sam had put on for everyone. “After you two caged Luci, I felt like I had no purpose anymore. I went to Bobby and asked if I could stay here, help him around the place and go on hunts with him, but he didn’t think I should put myself in danger anymore. He begged me to stop, but I couldn’t It’s who I was after that.” 

“I get that.” Dean commented, licking his lips and thinking back to all those times he tried to quit. For Lisa, for Ben, for Sam. Hell, it was the hardest thing to do.

“I had a big target on my back for a while, too. I turned my anger on the king of hell, Crowley. He was nothing compared to Lucifer, but he knew how to slip away.” 

“He does that.” Sam agreed. “But... Why are you here? Now? Why haven’t we ever seen you before?”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve only ever actively gone to one other hunter before. His name was Rufus, and that was because Bobby told me they were best buds. Rufus helped me out with a few cases before he left me one night. After that and Bobby’s death, I just decided that it wasn’t any good to befriend a hunter.” She shrugged her shoulders. 

Again, Dean nodded his head in agreement with her. 

“I’ve always wanted to meet you two.” She sat her empty cup down and looked between both of them. “After seeing baby photos of the two of you around the house and all the stories. Bobby was so fond of you.”

Dean and Sam found themselves smiling at that thought. Dean always considered Bobby another father figure in his life. Probably more so than his own father. 

“I just... wanted something to be happy about this Christmas.” She sighed.

“Yeah...” Dean nodded. “Us too.”

“We have more to celebrate now.” Sam smiled. “There’s going to be four of us this year.” 

“Four?” She tilted her head.

“Castiel.” Sam jabbed his finger towards Dean. “Dean’s guardian.” 

“He ain’t no guardian.” Dean grumbled. “Just a friend.”

“Ohh.” She smirked. “The angel.”

++++++++++

Dean claimed the couch over the next couple of nights, seeing as she had the bedroom, Sam opted in for Bobby’s room, and there were no other beds in the house--except for the one down in the panic room. He wasn’t too keen on staying in there. 

It wasn’t so bad having a girl around. Dean liked listening to her hum classic rock and Christmas songs as she did tasks and hung up Christmas decorations. He loved to watch her struggle to get something done--like putting dishes on the top shelf. It always gave him a chuckle because she was just too short but refused to let him help her. 

Things between him and Sam hadn’t been too great this year, but with the extra company between them, Dean was starting to feel the tension lift. It didn’t feel like a chore to speak to him anymore. He didn’t like when things were like that, he wanted a relationship with his brother. They were all each other has. 

“When is Castiel showing up?” She asked one evening as they were putting up the Christmas tree. 

“He shows up whenever.” Dean shrugged his shoulders and put one of the many fishing baits on the tree. “He’s on some top secret mission we weren’t allowed to talk about.” Dean said a little mockingly. 

She giggled. Dean loved the sound. It was like little bells ringing through the air, giving him goosebumps. 

She stood up on her tip toes and placed a tree shaped air freshener on one of the branches. “Next year, I want a real Christmas tree. Like, a real one. I want to smell the pine cones and sweep up the needles every day...” 

“It would be nice to have my own house to put a tree up in.” Dean sighed, not meaning to say that out loud. He didn’t dare let anyone know how badly he wanted a normal life, how bad he wanted a white picket fence and his very own bed. 

“Someone to cuddle by the fire and watch Christmas movies with...” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Dean looked up at her from the floor, which he was sitting on to finish the lower branches. She was so cute standing there in an oversized flannel and tight jeans ripped at the knees. The tank top she wore underneath tight around her waist, showing off her curves. “You know, we have a fire.” 

“And no one to hold me. Who am I gonna ask? The angel?” She rolled her eyes.

Dean felt a tinge of jealousy at the thought of Cas holding her. “I volunteer.” He said teasingly, just incase she found it offensive. 

“Ah,” she smirked. “I should have known I’d get an offer from Dean Winchester. I’ve heard those stories.”

“Stories?” Dean was genuinely confused.

She sat down on the arm of one of the chairs and shrugged. “From other hunters, even some demons. How you pull women in, seduce them, keep them for a night, and throw them away like they are nothing to you.” 

“Hey,” Dean stood up, his face growing hot at the thought of her rejecting him. No, it wasn’t the rejection. He realized it was the way she thought about him. “First of all, I don’t throw girls away. I make sure they’re okay with something short term.”

“Oh?” She rolled her eyes up at the ceiling and sat back, exposing a little bit of her stomach as the flannel fell on either side of her. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not like we can have anything normal anyway. There’s too much moving around... I tried dating a hunter a few years back, after Bobby died. He comforted me, told me he’d keep me safe. He got too attached and wanted to quit, start a family.”

“Wish we could some times.” 

“Be nice.”

Dean watched her for a second. “You know, my offer still stands about the fire.”

[skrltwtch]

Scent

Prompt: a & b have been friends since they were children — but they’ve gone their separate ways during college. during that time apart, muse a and b were attacked by a vampire and werewolf respectively, undergoing a transformation they never expected. they kept it a secret from each other, hoping that this doesn’t change their friendship — until they meet up over summer and … holy fucking shit why do you SMELL like that? (Source in master list)

Word count: 5,123 words

Genre: Romance, supernatural

Warnings: Blood

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Impatience composed the rhythm my fingers were drumming on the table. Late. As always. The optimist in me would say it was comforting to know that some things remained the same after all these years. The pessimist in me, the unspoken captain of this ship, wondered why it had to be this gross habit that weathered the winds of change. He suggested this time and place. He had been insistent on meeting in the evening. I didn’t mind either way. I simply figured that being fussy about what time to meet meant that he’d put some effort into being on time.

Because the bar had a flood of new patrons and a dearth of ones contented enough to leave, I went inside and got a table for us first. I didn’t want to have to think of a new place for us to go if the place was packed by the time he got here — whenever that’d be. Time check: fifteen minutes and counting. He was such a lovely friend, and may God never fail to bless every brown hair on his head for every second of his life, but this was infuriating. Not even a text to tell me where he was and what was holding him up. Morgan, please!

His arrival melted away all the indignation I was feeling — and made every hair on the back of my neck stand.

No, that was the pins and needles from sitting cross-legged for too long.

‘Ellie?’ Confusion squinched his eyes. I expected this. The last time he saw me was in college, i.e., some twenty kilograms ago. I wouldn’t have pitched a fit if he’d thought the pictures I used were the result of Photoshop, Facetune, and/or angles. In contrast, he looked exactly as he did when the pictures he used were taken — in college, albeit maybe with a little less baby fat in his face than I’d remembered. Damn. Well, how much could a person change in three years? It wasn’t like he ever needed to lose an ounce of weight, too, let alone twenty kilograms.

When I confirmed I was the same Ellie he’d had the privilege of knowing since childhood, he enveloped me in a hug. I did what had been conditioned into me by the ‘dog’ that I told people was responsible for the scar on my arm the time I went jogging at night because I thought the full moon was bright enough to keep me safe. People were more keen on lecturing me for daring to have that train of thought as a woman in London than questioning what kind of dog it was exactly that could leave a scar like the kind I had, perfectly vindicating my choice of cover for what really happened.

His scent was like a bat to my face. I’d never smelled anyone like this before. People smelled like their diets, their emotions, their likes and dislikes, their best and worst memories: all that made them, them. The scents I’d have associated with him would’ve been the crisp brininess of sea air and the comforting sweetness of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Instead, he smelled like blood, yet it didn’t smell like it belonged to him — or in him. I was also discerning a discomforting whiff of inhumanity, like something in him had been switched off. On top of that, he was clammy to the touch, and, most damningly of all, perhaps — no, no ‘perhaps’, as I pressed my ear to his chest, I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

I put on my best poker face and released myself from his embrace. ‘You’re late.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He sheepishly ran his hand through his hair. ‘God, it is so good to see you. It’s been so long. And look at you! I couldn’t recognise you. (Is it gauche to say that was why I was late?) I only knew — I only had a feeling it was you because —’

‘Because …?’

He clicked his tongue. ‘That’s not important. Listen, I don’t know what I was thinking, asking to meet in a crowded bar … Do you want to go somewhere quieter? So we can talk better without having to shout?’

I downed the last of my drink, which I’d been forced to get earlier than I wanted so the staff wouldn’t kick me out for taking up a table in one of the more desirable corners of their establishment. I agreed with Morgan on the condition that he thought of where to go next. I hated crowds to begin with, and now that I was hypersensitive to all that the five senses encompassed, crowds were, to put it simply, a fucking nightmare. I should’ve put a kibosh on his suggestion to meet at a bar when he made it. I’d be comparing apples and oranges here, but not liking crowds was normal, whereas smelling and feeling like a dead person wasn’t.

We went for ice cream. The first thing he asked me was how I lost the weight. Had we not met on an app meant for matchmaking, his first question would likely have been something else entirely, something to do with what it was that had us seeing each other for the first time since college. I told him what I did to get in shape, which was to watch what I ate and move farther and for longer than the trips I made from my room to the kitchen or bathroom, or from my desk to the pantry or washroom, throughout the day. What I left out was how I’d been maintaining despite having ordered something as indulgent as three heaping scoops of gelato with chocolate brownie pieces and hot fudge sauce: catch something from an animal bite that counted an enhanced metabolism needed to sustain monthly bodily trauma among one of its many symptoms. It really was easy as that.

We opted for takeout and a walk around Hyde Park to pad out our evening. The open space did nothing to defuse his strange scent. It was all I could focus on, and I needed all the brain cells I could get to the office on such short notice focus on our conversation. We’d gotten the answers to simple questions about our lives over text prior to tonight: what we did after college, what we were doing now, how our families were doing, so on and so forth. You know, small talk bullshit. I hadn’t doubted that we’d broach the subject of our break from each other at some point during our reconnection. The elephant had made itself comfortable in the room the instant I received the notification he’d swiped right on me. The thing was, the elephant couldn’t stop another one of its ilk from invading its space, and now they were both arguing over which one of them deserved our attention better.

The almost pristine three-layered sundae drenched in strawberry sauce in Morgan’s hand provided the perfect icebreaker for me to possibly appease either elephant. ‘Are you okay, Morgan?’ I said. ‘You’ve barely touched your ice cream.’ Conversely, I was halfway through mine, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had hot fudge sauce smeared across my lips.

It wasn’t only his restraint from inhaling his ice cream, the single course of action the Morgan I knew, the one who wouldn’t be smelling like a mortuary, would’ve carried out ages ago. He had been looking out of sorts the entire evening. Even softballs were answered with skittishness and reserve. Really, why’d he agree to meet if he wasn’t entirely over what happened all those years ago? If that was what this was about, that is. Did seeing me in person make him realise that it wasn’t the best of ideas to attempt to rekindle a friendship that’d turned awkward from differing expectations? It didn’t bother me in any way, but that was easy for me to say, considering the role I played in all this.

‘I’m fine.’ He gulped down a giant spoonful of ice cream without flinching. He and I understood the concept of ‘fine’ very differently. ‘Ellie … we’re friends, right?’

He’d wanted to be more than at one point.

‘Yeah,’ I said as deadpan as I could to prevent him from reading too much into my answer. I mean, I would if I were him.

‘We can tell each other anything.’

We sure did.

‘Promise me you won’t take this the wrong way,’ he continued.

I stared at him blankly. Caveats never came before anything good.

‘… Why do you smell like that?’

Wow, what the fuck. I should be the one asking that question, not him!

‘Like what?’ Still as deadpan as humanly possible. Disregard the fact that I hadn’t been human in a while.

‘Like … fuck, I can’t. This was a bad idea.’

‘No, tell me. Like what?’

‘Like the forest. Moss. Tree bark. Leaves. Dirt. And a little bit of raw meat.’ There were no pauses between his words, though the sounds were disparate enough to identify them as actual words. ‘No, a lot of raw meat. No, forget I said anything. Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.’

‘Just what has gotten into you, period? Why do you smell like spoilt wine — like blood?’ I wanted to ask as well why he didn’t seem to have a heartbeat. I remembered in time that a stethoscope was required to detect that sort of thing, and I had no business owning one. I wouldn’t even know where to get one, short of robbing the doctor the next time I had to go in for a check-up.

‘Something happened to us, didn’t it? Other than the obvious.’

‘I think so. Say it together on the count of three?’ I needed the countdown to convince myself that whatever had made him like this hadn’t made him cruel. He hadn’t said or done anything that’d wound me. No, what was I thinking? This was Morgan I was talking about. What sacrilege to think he could hurt a living being. I should apologise to him for this.

He agreed to my proposition.

I started the countdown: ‘One — two — three —’

‘I’m a vampire.’

‘I’m a werewolf.’

Together: ‘What?’

‘Are you messing with me?’ he said.

‘Are you messing with me?’

‘Have I ever?’

He had a point. I really needed to apologise to him. ‘How did it happen?’ Why play dumb? I turned into a hulking wolf-woman hybrid once a month. There were obviously others like me. It stood to reason that vampires would exist as well.

‘I … met someone after college. She and I had … stuff in common. I thought she was kidding when she asked if she could feed on me the first time. I let her anyway, and so much about her made sense immediately. I asked her to turn me eventually. Being vampires together was fun at first … and then it wasn’t. I don’t regret it, though. Okay, I do regret not being able to really enjoy food anymore.’ He cast a wistful stare in the direction of his sundae. It was a milkshake by now. ‘You?’

‘I was bitten while I was hiking at night. It was an accident. He’ — I paid no attention to the wince he made — ‘realised what he did and brought me to safety. He revealed himself to me the next day. He taught me everything about being a werewolf. Of course, one thing led to another, and …’

‘He was your ex,’ he said stiffly. For the first time tonight, I smelled something other than blood on him: bitterness.

‘Yes, the one I told you about on Tinder.’ Because he asked. His responses in that part of the conversation, as brief as it was, had borne little to no emotion. Jude and I ended things on a good note. I made that clear to Morgan. There was nothing for him — as a friend — to have strong feelings about. ‘Please, Morgan.’ Us coming across each other and reconnecting on a dating app meant — was supposed to mean — nothing.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry for what happened in college. I’m over it, I promise. The time and distance apart helped. I don’t want us to not be friends anymore because of this — because of what I did. I’m happy we got to meet again after so long … and after everything that happened.’

‘It’s okay, Morgan. I wasn’t — I’m not — upset about what happened.’ I wasn’t really anything about it. Okay, I might have been surprised that the roles had been as they were: Morgan glowed up toward the end of secondary school, a development that didn’t go unnoticed by most of the female population wherever he went, whereas I was pudgy, socially awkward, and not the right amount of weird for it to be seen as quirky, and would therefore be likely to latch on to my sole source of male attention. (I was now two out of three of those things.) ‘Things happen. We don’t get to control this kind of thing. I’m happy, too, that you’re back. I missed you. I’m happy you got to work things out and want to continue being friends. Let’s just put this behind us and move on, okay?’

I hugged him. Relief and cheer emanated from him, alleviating the musty scent that made sense to belong to a vampire.

‘I missed you, too. On the bright side, it made the vampire–werewolf confession easier to stomach, didn’t it?’ His grin revealed pointed canines.

I chuckled. We could compare our fangs sometime. ‘What do you do for food?’

He guzzled the entirety of his sundae-milkshake in one drag. I envied the apparent departure of the concept of brain freeze from him. I should learn more about vampire lore from him and see what Hollywood had gotten right and wrong. (It was mostly the latter for werewolves: we were underrepresented and misrepresented. I just could never get a fair shake on the big screen.) ‘You’d be surprised by how well vampires have modernised and worked the Internet to their advantage. Blood bag delivery services, forums and apps for vampires and … vampire enthusiasts to connect. How about you? What do you do on full moons?’

‘I drive out to the woods whenever I transform — whenever I want to. That’s a thing.’ Jude and I spent a lot of our nights together as wolves. I did miss that sometimes. Jude never prepared me for how lonely being a werewolf could be until it was too late. ‘I hunt. I play. I explore. I haven’t killed anyone to the best of my knowledge.’

‘I want to make a “good girl” joke, but you can literally tear me from limb to limb.’ I nodded with a slight air of pride. ‘This is so fascinating. Vampires are pretty straightforward. What you see in movies and on TV is what you get — mostly.’ Ah, hell. ‘Hey, can I tag along whenever you transform? So I can learn how to hunt animals. Blood bags are actually kind of shitty, and I’m trying to keep biting people to a minimum. I — um — I don’t want to accidentally go too far and turn or kill someone.’

I was deeply relieved that he was still the same caring, thoughtful person I knew in spite of the faint unfeelingness I sniffed earlier. I wouldn’t think twice if it were another vampire: maybe that was what was needed for them to survive. I mean … who was I to judge? I gave in to feral thoughts occasionally. Given a choice, the only thing I’d choose to hunt was the perfect red velvet cake. But this was Morgan, the same person I needed to apologise to for thinking he’d say something mean to make me feel bad on purpose.

‘Of course, I’d love to show you the ropes! Just don’t judge my wolf form, okay?’ I said.

‘Shut up. I’m sure you look great. Would you prefer being called cute or ferocious?’

‘Both, please.’

‘I figured. Can you believe I was afraid to tell you about this? I didn’t know how you’d react, especially after …’

‘Same.’ The club that knew what I was, was a highly exclusive one, consisting of only two members at the moment and for the foreseeable future. I didn’t dare tell anyone else. Just how would this come up in a normal conversation? ‘I know we can tell each other anything.’ We did. We were in a world where asking a friend to be more than friends was less cause for concern for one’s mental health after all. ‘And nothing’s come between us. Not even —’

He nodded emphatically.

We found a place to sit in the park and continued talking, sharing stories about our new lives and recounting those from our old ones. Time became inconsequential, as did the fact that it had done so on a weeknight. We left only because the park was closing soon and I got hungry, because enhanced metabolism. A Lebanese takeaway near the park was my saviour. Our conversation persisted into the wee hours of the morning and a long way away from where we’d started. As he turned down my request to have breakfast together before heading home almost at the crack of dawn as we were wont to do in our early college days (and he did so patiently, which was more than what I deserved for being a forgetful idiot), it hit me for a moment that being friends with a vampire might pose a challenge to scheduling, as if his chronic lateness wasn’t already a thing. Then I realised it didn’t matter. I was simply happy to have him back in my life, and while anything about us could change at any time, one thing was for certain: our friendship would be everlasting.

✦✧✦✧

It happened again.

I fell in love with her again.

As soon as I felt the same tingle in my stomach that gave rise to our long separation in college, I knew I had to call our friendship off for good. This couldn’t keep happening. She needed a friend she could count on to be there for her because he wanted to out of cordiality, not one whose intentions she’d constantly be second-guessing. She had to know something was up. She had to have sensed my feelings for her. What could that nose of hers not detect? No, we agreed not to read each other’s emotions using our sense of smell. We weren’t at that level of intimacy with each other, as much as I desperately wanted us to be.

And hell, did I ever want it so terribly. Being what I was, everything I felt was intensified. I didn’t know what I might do to her if I continued to be around her while she didn’t reciprocate my feelings, and I didn’t want to find out. I was prepared to spend all of eternity without her. There’d come a time anyway when she wouldn’t be in my life anymore. Werewolves weren’t immortal. I’d have to watch her grow old — at a slower rate than humans, sure. So that’d buy us at least a decade or two. So what? I’d still have to watch her die. The sooner I ended things, the better it’d be for the both of us. She could get a head start on the life she deserved, one free of a perpetually lovesick wanker.

I’d do it tonight — under the stars at the beach, the breeze appreciable but not disruptive, the waves lapping the shore with calm strokes, the waxing gibbous moon bathing us in a warm, tranquil glow. It was fucking perfect … for what I wished this was instead of what this was supposed to be. It didn’t have to be tonight. Did I want to ruin this lovely picnic she’d so eagerly planned and looked forward to? It had to be tonight. The longer I spent in her company, the more I feared I’d do something that’d push us beyond the brink of repair.

Desire and disquietude were making it difficult to focus on her words. She was talking about … her latest project at work or the 22nd and 23rd cats her sister had just adopted … or something. Her lips were mesmerising to watch. They must feel just as nice to kiss. Jude was bloody lucky to be the only person to know for sure. Fuck. Fuck, Morgan. You’d fucking lost the plot. This shit was exactly why you needed to get away from her. Fucking knob. Fucking loser who thought ‘once bitten, twice shy’ didn’t apply to him. She’d think you were a fucking obsessive creep, and she’d be right.

‘— I can’t stand to visit her. I don’t need to be a werewolf to think that the smell of twenty-something cats in an okay-sized flat is horrendous. And no one would dare call her out on it. You know what she’s like. It’s how she has twenty-something cats to begin with. She wasn’t even a cat person before. Anyway’ — Ellie held up her hands, the movement stealing my attention from her lips, ‘low contact, as it is with the rest of them.’ She popped a pie bar in her mouth. ‘And I just spent the last five minutes ranting about my sister and her lack of self-control. Totally the best thing to do at a time like this, right?’

I could listen to her spout off about the most mundane thing possible all night and find it all so riveting.

I sipped my drink — badger blood to bring out the sweetness of the fruit-heavy dishes and complement the fowl-based sandwiches she packed. I never would’ve thought of pairing the blood of different animals with human food to make the latter more palatable. She revived in me the thrill of being a vampire after two years of languishing under the spell of ennui and regret for an existence spanning all of eternity cast on me by the desolation of my split from Lorelai. And I was likely going to go down that rabbit hole again after tonight. It was for a good cause. I’d rather be miserable than be the source of her headache.

‘Morgan? You’re — um —’ She made a circular motion at my upper body, and then heaved her shoulders in an amused shrug. ‘I wish you all the best in getting all that out.’

I looked over what she’d gestured at. ‘Fuck it. I’d been meaning to toss this shirt anyway.’

I soaked up what I could with a napkin — or five — and took off my shirt before I’d retch from the smell. I practised controlled feeding for a reason. Now I was shirtless and a little bloodied, just in time for one of the most important conversations in my very long, soon to be very lonely, life to take place. Terrific.

‘Ellie, I — I have something to tell you.’

‘I fucked up the dip, didn’t I?’

‘No, it’s not that — it’s delicious.’ For something that didn’t come from a vein, at least. ‘Ellie … I love you.’ Again. Because I was a stupid fuck.

Her lips formed an O. Stop fucking looking at her lips!

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought I’d gotten over it the first time.’ It sucked that there was now a ‘first time’. ‘I just get this feeling when I’m around you. I feel safe, happy — I feel like I’m alive again. I don’t have to hide anything about myself. I can be me, yet you make me want to be the best I can be for you. But I can’t keep doing this to you and myself. I don’t want to settle on being friends this time. I know that part of me won’t let me either. And I don’t know what that part of me would do if I continue to be in your life like this.’

‘Morgan —’

‘I shouldn’t have come back. I’ve enjoyed the past year tremendously. But I think — I know I have to leave now while things are still … good between us. It’d be for the best. I don’t want to fuck up what we had since we were kids. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I truly am.’

She simply stared at me. She must be thinking why the fuck she’d been saddled with a right prat for a friend. Where did things go wrong? Did I knock back too many whiskey shots on my 18th birthday? I vaguely remembered her asking me to stop after my eleventh. Why wasn’t she still saying anything? Did I break her?

‘No, Morgan’ was what she said at last — and the only thing she said for the longest time.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t leave.’ Her hand hovered over mine. Uncertainty swam about in her eyes. Her dilemma was plain to see. I took her hand and locked our fingers together. This was the only time I could get away with being this forward. I wanted to savour her warmth as well for as long as I could; I’d miss it so much.

‘I have to. It’s not safe for you to be around me.’

‘But … I want to be with you. Not as friends. Morgan … I’ve fallen in love with you, too.’

‘What are you saying? No, don’t — that’s not —’ Had I put her under some kind of glamour without realising it? Was she humouring me? Every fibre of my being yearned for what I heard to be true. Nothing I’d seen in all the time we spent together suggested the possibility. Nothing we did together seemed out of the ordinary.

‘I’m — I mean it. I should be the one apologising, I think. I’ve felt this way for the last couple of months. I look forward to being with you all the time. I love receiving your texts throughout the night and waking up to them in the morning. Nothing feels like it’s happened until I tell you about it. I get these butterflies in my stomach every time you smile at me and touch me. You remember these small details about us from so long ago. I think the moment I knew was when I was having a tough time transforming for whatever reason and you were just … there for me, holding me, talking me down. I love you. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how you’d react because of — because of what happened in college.’

She sniffled. Seeing that I was the reason for her tears stung my heart. I wiped them away for her. ‘I love you. I always will,’ I said.

Then our lips met. I’d waited so long for this, and it was both everything I dreamt of and like nothing I could’ve ever imagined. Her lips were so warm, so soft, so sweet. I tasted the tartness of cherries and apples, the smokiness of turkey, the acidic sharpness of vinaigrette, on her mouth, notes I thought lost to me forever. An indistinct thumping sounded deep inside my chest. Her fingers slid into my hair, making waves of it. I pulled her closer to me, my hands gripping her waist, in the hope that the rush of her skin against mine would allay my doubts that this was all just a dream. But how could it be a dream when everything seemed to finally make sense? While Lorelai had promised a life anew in death, Ellie was the promise of a life renewed and delivered from death.

I didn’t want this moment to end. It had to, as my body was beginning to respond to the call of her blood.

She pulled away. No, I wanted to cry out. She must’ve sensed my thirst.

‘It’s okay if you want to,’ she said. ‘I’m not afraid.’

She bared her neck for me. My nostrils flared. I could smell her blood — like red hot ambrosia. Her heartbeat pounded in my ears, growing louder with every second I dithered. Why was I hesitating? I wanted her. I needed her.

I sank my teeth into her neck. She shuddered; a soft moan fled her lips. Crimson flowed out of the punctures I made. Everything I’d imbibed prior paled in comparison to what I was now partaking of: little explosions of flavour — syrupy, racy, robust — went off in my mouth. I feared nothing else could do it for me after this. I lapped up every drop of ruby as if it were exquisite manna; I made sure none of it went to waste. The blood I ingested was making its way south, making a signal for another kind of craving to be met. Not now. It’d be too soon for us. I had all the time in the world to get to know her better.

Her scent and whines were becoming too hard to ignore. I stopped for fear that I was misinterpreting them out of my own bias. I found myself staring into enlarged amber irises in pools of black. Claws had popped out from under her fingernails. She, too, was sporting fangs. Her chest, lightly shining with sweat, rose and fell sharply. The changes reversed themselves in short order. Red spread across her cheeks in uneven blotches.

‘I’m sorry. I —’ she said.

I cupped my hand around her cheek. ‘You can let go if you want to. You don’t have to be shy around me.’ She’d always been sheepish about her wolf form and the lengths she went to for its emergence around me. The incident she referred to had only been allowed to happen because her panic attack drowned out any embarrassment, any diffidence, she harboured about the process. That was the only time I saw her in that state.

She shook her head. ‘I know. I just — I’d want to experience that — our first time — as myself, and I don’t think I can do that now. I hope that’s okay.’

I wiped my mouth and gave her a light kiss on the lips. ‘Of course. We don’t have to rush into things. We have a lifetime ahead of us’, and I wanted every second to be as special as the last. She smiled in agreement and enfolded me in a tight embrace. It startled me how much she felt just like home in my arms. I could do this with her forever, and for a fleeting moment, as I fingered the now unblemished skin where my teeth had pierced, I wondered if there would ever be the chance of her wanting to share in my idea of forever.